”Over the brush sailed Belgravia, over the post and rails, over the rustic poles, driven on by Rupert’s erotic pelvic thrusts. And I think Tory and I could make each other happy. You’ve had a bad press recently, haven’t you?”“You noticed?” said Rupert. “So Rupert and Billy are already here.
She longed to leave Rupert, but where could she go? Certainly not home to her parents. I’d no idea how he’d feel about Rupert. Tory looked at an obscene, pink pile of sausages, greasily glinting under a cover on the bar. Here is a golden opportunity to study the British in one of their most primitive rituals.
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