"Hi there," he said, in a sexy, deep voice that made my heart pitter patter. I looked up at him and smiled, "hi yourself. So you're not drinking tonight?" I asked, fluttering my long dark eyelashes at him. He shook his head "I have to work tomorrow," he replied. "Come on, you're not going to get drunk with me?" I said, pouting my lips. "I didn't catch your name." "It's Jasmine, Jasmine Bradshaw," I told him. "Have you seen my husband?" "He's right over there talking to one of the nurses," Matt told me. I followed his finger and my eyes grew wide with shock as I saw my husband, Simon Bradshaw, rubbing his hands up and down the pretty girl's arms. She was smiling up at him. Feeling hurt, I threw back the last of my wine then slammed the glass down and headed towards the door. My head started to spin. Once I was outside I breathed in the cool air and rubbed my hands up and down my arms. Matt followed me outside "are you, OK?" he asked with concern. As I stared deeply into his eyes I. But what about Connie? I could hardly leave her back at the college in a post-orgasmic trance and reeking of sex; nor for the same reason could I put her on a train for her home on the other side of London. Somewhere she had to be cleaned up and made presentable. I could think of nothing for it but to take her back to my place; with any luck by the time we got there she might be taking a bit more notice.I explained this to her. She did not reply, as such, but at intervals she emitted her slight grunt — "huh" — and I took this for consent.Halfway home she showed her first sign of recovery, suddenly announcing quietly but clearly, "Oh... my... god." Welcome back," I replied. "How are you feeling?" Oh, wow! Jeez-us fucking Christ!" was the best she could manage. I left it at that for a while.As we entered my home suburb she seemed to come out of it a bit. "Oh, Mr Walker," she began.This odd formality made me smile. "Don't you think you should call me James?"She giggled. "Yes. Thank you,.
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