When Cara breezes in, an hour later, all twittering and with a bottle of gin, I’m sulking. I don’t like them scheming together like that. “I’... not going,” I say grumpily. “Oh stop pouting,” Cara tells me. “You know you’re going. We know you’re going. Stop making such a fuzz about it.” She gets glasses and a bottle of tonic from the kitchen and pours us each a drink, with very generous amounts of gin in them. “This is an opportunity not to be wasted,” Cara continues. “Friday night at the. She pointed tothe arm of the chair."Bare it and get over the chair arms folded and keep your backside up,if I so much as see your hands we will adjourn to the basement and beginover. Do I make myself clear?" Yes Madam." I curtseyed and pulled up my skirt and slip, slipped downmy tights and panties to my knees, folded my arms, draped myself overthe arm of the chair and buried my face into the seat cushion. I did nothave long to wait, I felt the strap lightly fall across my bottom sothat she. More

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