‘Come on, Carl,’ she said, somewhat belligerently, as though the failings of my sex could be laid at my door. ‘Tell me, you’re a bloke, tell m... what it is that I did wrong.’ ‘I dunno, Aunt Hazel,’ I replied, more than a little uncomfortable at the position I found myself in. Drunk people make me nervous, I don’t know how to handle them and, in the few times I found myself confronted with someone less than sober, I’ve so far managed to always say the wrong thing. Not that my aunt was totally. She went behind the curtain and began to change, taking off her jeans and top and peeling off her bra – her cocktail dress was a backless one and a bra would have been totally out of place. A covert camera perfectly placed above the changing area permitted a perfect view of her ample breasts which Richie was able to flick across to on his laptop. Jenny heard Richie milling around on his side of the curtain and just assumed his joint was getting the better of him, unaware he was getting a hard. More

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