Clothes Maketh The Man — Part 43.

I will admit that there are depths of depravity I am not proud of, I thought to myself as I prepared myself for the evening with Claude. We do push ourselves to extreme limits, do we not?

And in finding those limits it becomes easier to go further still. Following a civilised meal, in which conversation flowed easily, and meaninglessly, we enjoyed a liqueur and a coffee, in the European style. Claude talked politely, but behind each word was the certain message that this was merely a preamble to the true activities of the evening which would be taking place following desert.

And how very apt it was that the tiramisu should be drizzled with cream. I found myself excitedly thinking how nice it might be to bring Claude to completion over Veronica’s modest but obvious breasts. Yet it was to prove an evening of greater complexity than merely a dinner, desert and swift release to round off the evening.

I found myself excited by the prospect of the evening, and as I stole glances at Veronica. She was the ideal attentive girlfriend. And yet here we were, the two of us, fawning over this slightly overweight middle aged Frenchman.

I wouldn’t say Clause was unpleasant. He had an air of privilege that led me to believe that, regardless of what I might have to say in the matter he would be taking me tonight. It was a sense…