The stage lights focused on her, her dark tits bouncing at the apex of her swing, while she belted out one of the songs I hated the most.Wrecking Ball...by Miley Cyrus.Listening to it was like hearing nails scraped across a chalkboard. I cringed at her performance. It was terrible. I shook my head, trying not to wince every third note as her voice warbled. She had trouble hitting all the right notes.“Jesus,” whispered Amelia McCreery. She sat beside me in a low-cut, red dress, shaking her head.. "I think you were turned on about my brother fucking me," she teased. "Yes, love, I was. I am, I mean. I need to get used to it, but I like it." But I was thinking that I wasn't sure. "Wait until we get to the flat," she said with a mischievous grin, getting to her feet. As we approached the door, I felt tense and slightly nervous. I was anxious about facing Steve, knowing now that he was fucking Effie. As for her, she seemed to have an air of restrained eagerness. We opened the door and went. Twenty percent. That's all." Twenty percent of what?" Twenty percent of what I expect you to bring in each night." And how much is that?"The man spread his fingers. "That's in hundreds in case you didn't know."Beatrice nodded. This wasn't an arrangement she wanted to be party to. It wasn't that she couldn't afford it. What troubled her was the consequence of entering into any agreement of this kind with a human. There really was only one solution."You could have demanded so much more," she said. Hot or cold?” “Can I have cold followed by hot? I need to cool down, and then a cup of chai would be perfect.”She stretched out on the sofa, her legs stretched out in front of her, her arms lay listlessly at her side. She was in her school uniform, blue tartan skirt, white shirt and a tie that hung loosely around her neck.“Here, some iced water first, then chai.”“Oh thank you, uncle, I don’t know what I’d do without you. You are a lifesaver.”I returned to the kitchen and made the chai. “And how.