Marla couldn’t help smiling at his pronunciation, but chose to make no remark. ‘You pay afterwards,’ she advised him as he fumbled for some dirh...ms. ‘Oh! Of course. Like you do in France and Spain, like.’ After the coffees, they wandered into the Kasbah. Marla enjoyed herself as she helped Paul haggle over a scented cedar box that he took a fancy to, easily reducing the cost to about a fifth what was originally requested. ‘You’re a reet canny lass!’ Paul exclaimed. That expression again. Marla. It all sounds like a terrific jape. I’m quite looking forward to the whole thing.”“Good, well, Mr?”“Douglas. Alfie Douglas.”“Well, Mr Douglas, if you’d like to go into the backroom and have a beer or a scotch or whatever, the boys here will come and get you when we are ready for you.”-----The dinner had been a resounding success. The wine had flowed, the scotch had flowed, the jokes and innuendo had flowed. When Teddy stood up for the post-dinner speech, the twelve members of the BBC drummed. "With that, Monkeywrench began scrambling up the wall, grabbing anyhand or foothold he could. Melissa didn't bother trying to followhim since she could just teleport instead, though the top of thatparticular building was just a little bit out of her range."I feel bad for not fighting," Monkeywrench admitted, though hedidn't stop climbing."Those who mock and run away, live to mock another day," Melissaannounced, repeating one of the Imp's favorite sayings."STOP WHERE YOU ARE," the power frame. Alex began to involuntarily shake her big fat tits. Her knees started to get loose, and suddenly she was clapping her ass cheeks and twerking in just the frosty panties and bra she had on. Alex found herself working that butt, her buttocks bouncing a bit to the rhythm of the rap that she hated so much. Why did she dance to music that she loathed, though?“Oh my god, this is not right! I do not like rap!” she stated. It was too late.She was grooving like a funky hood rat shaking her healthy.