I am rapidly approaching breaking point. The only comments from my tormentors are the odd compliment for stokes that bore home well, and rebukes for m.... I look up and find the bar maid now staring into my face across the bar. I'm not crying yet, but tears are beginning to well in my eyes. She takes delight in my suffering, and offence at my gaze. She sneers at me and shouts, “What the fuck are you looking at?” Another stroke cuts into my backside and I grunt out a “NOTHING, SORRY”. Wrong. Murray gave her a cheeky wink and a slap on the arse, told her to enjoy, after more than twenty years of friendship he of course new her so well.She arrived at his table, and was pleased to see he had ordered champagne, had taken control, his eyes never left her, drinking her in hungrily, she watched his eyes follow her every move as she sat on the vacant chair and crossed her shapely legs, her skirt rising just giving him a glimpse of her stocking tops. He introduce himself as Miles, as he. More

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