I see that she does not like this Sam McDonald either. “Ir­ving, you have to admit he’s a first-class asshole.”“Mmm,” Irving agrees. “But...that’s not really the point, is it? Let’s get down to nuts and bolts, you’ve both got to be tired. First, did he pick the fight, Hugo?”“I can’t be sure,” I say. “He isn’t sorry about the fight, and I don’t think he tried hard to avoid fighting, but I think he is not himself sure whether he or the other one, this Jerry Trues­dale, began the fight. He does not. ‘Get ready and come to my room in ten minutes,’ I said, ‘and bring a pot of cold cream for your poor back.’ The door opened ten minutes later, and there she was, in her grey, wide-skirted, watered silk Sunday frock, but without the pretty matching merino jacket with tight sleeves and piping of black bugle beads, that made her look so stylish for the Kingsway congregation on Sunday mornings. She put a small pot of cold cream down on the bamboo bedside table, and stood in front of me, her face. The problem was that by now she had grown to love the two men and becoming all conventional and marrying one of them was going to cause hurt and pain. Anyway, one night over dinner the subject came round to the future and she told them about her predicament. One of the guys suggested that they didn’t have to live by conventional rules if they didn’t want to and the decision was taken to not only carry on but that each of the men would father his own child with her. The guys drew lots and over. I wanted him. I always did. I tried to turn to face him, but he held me tight. Adjusting his hands he nudged at my legs a little bit and pushed aside my thong. I melted under his hand and wanted more. But just as I started to get close, the timer to the stove went off and master smiled, letting me go. I claimed out of the tub and using a towel quickly dried myself, removing the rest of my clothing. I walked back into the kitchen and pulled out the pan and put the stakes on a board to rest or.