The girls scowled at him as he left them. He picked his way through the wine cases and barrels that were piled, untidily around the room. Most of the ...ood stuff had been drunk. There was no point in leaving that for the Germans. Clegg locked the door behind him., ignoring the plaintive muffled groans of the girls.He emerged into the bar of La Belle Aurore. Rick, the owner, was sitting at a table near the bar. On the far side of the room Sam, the bar's pianist and one of the finest jazz. Just like on the TV, everything was happening too fast. Her thighs tensed as her fingertips circled the ring of muscle that protected her vagina, and then she arched her back and thrust them into her. On the TV the woman was riding the man, his hands at her breasts, coy shots of her writhing buttocks cutting to his face, twisted in pleasure. Uli sat forward, forcing her fingers deeper into herself, and rolled her hips so that her thumb dragged across her clit. She closed her eyes and imagined. More

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