He headed back towards the Seine. He was lucky. Passing the Trocadero he saw a poster. The Orchestre de la Société des Concerts du Conservatoire wer... performing that night. Clegg decided to treat himself to an evening's culture.Wagner, Beethoven, Bruckner. The programme was predictable, Clegg guessed, given the sea of grey uniforms in the audience and certainly better than Hindemith. The Beethoven and the Bruckner were fine, thought Clegg but when it came to the Wagner he agreed with Mark. “I want you”“What do you want?”Isobelle hesitates.“Say it”Quietly. “I already did”“Say it again. I need to hear it”“I want you to fuck me”Ezra ceases to adjust his clothes, he teases the bush at the cleft of her legs and sinks two digits into her folds. Isobelle’s lips part in surprise. He rubs the delicious wetness, finding her clitoris. Her knees almost buckle.“Is this what you want”“No” and then mildly, between gasped breaths. “I want cock.” She smiles dreamily, her whole body alive and. More

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