‘No!’ I couldn’t tell whether that was a confession of ignorance or a denial. ‘He tells me you used to go out on Tuesday and Thursday evening,...and not come home until after he went to bed. But you only went out when I wasn’t home. You can guess why he thought what he did.’ ‘I wasn’t cheating on you,’ she said with a forlorn look. ‘Oh? Just what were you doing at Peter Ambleton’s house at night?’ Again, her head snapped up at the question. I sat as impassively as I could, trying not to show any. "Not too bad."She couldn't be suggesting what I thought."So sweet lips, have you ever sucked a cock?"My jaw dropped. "No, no; I'm not gay." What kind of question was that,did I look gay? Maybe letting Camille buy me a drink was a mistake."Okay," she shrugged. "But look at me, do I look like a guy?"She definitely didn't, she was gorgeous; as she took a sip of her ownbeer she left a chocolate coloured lipstick stain on the glass. If I hadnot seen the bulge in her tight leather pants I would. More

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