.. Otto... Khalid. One of them twice, maybe. At least, he was first. In front of Miss Judith, he was trying not to show too much enthusiasm. But, all ...he same, he was definitely enjoying himself. This girl was getting really squelchy. He could still hear her moaning. And gasping. He wondered if he might make her come.„How is she, Mr Osman? I mean... you have no complaints?“„No... no... hhhaaahhh... no Miss Judith... quite a... quite a haaahhh... haahhh good fuck... „ repeated Quentin. He was over 6 feet in height, thin, with darkbrown, almost black, hair and a thin face, dressed casually in black corduroytrousers and an open-necked green shirt. Attendance at these matches was oneof those tedious obligations – noblesse oblige – that were thesedays about the only remaining function of an almost redundant British aristocracy.This whole event was as bizarre to him as the chants of the crowds, FA Cup,and tribalism of football would be to the huntin', shootin' and fishin' setof. More

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