Again, her mind drifted back to a happy game of comparisons. She pictured both of the men without shirts, the first long and lean, like a swimmer. The...second had muscles, she decided. Muscles to trace with her fingers. And her tongue. She felt herself blushing as she twisted a slice of lime over Viv’s glass. There was no way she’d be able to choose between the two.The heavy wooden front door scraped open, and another young man walked in.He was wearing a pristine white oversized Miami Heat. The shouting men and women in the mob cut Mrs Armitage's wrists free of her cuffs and encircled her, shouting and slapping at her tits and buttocks, groping up her ass crack and yanking at her hair, and she spun round and round trying to fend off her tormentors. She was taller than many of her attackers but that almost made it worse, because they were darting in under her outstretched flailing arms and leaping up at her from below, jumping up onto her naked back as she spun wildly about trying. More

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