After the thrashing her father had given her, especially when his spanks had moved between her buttocks, she would certainly not make that mistake again. She stood then in the streams of diffuse light, naked but for her white stockings, tied with bows, and her pair of white shoes. She ran her hands down her body, over her budding breasts, down her belly, past her little patch of blonde hairs, and down to her stocking tops, feeling the crisp air goose-bumping her flesh. She sat, then, between the thighs of the tree, and rustled through the dried leaves next to her, until she found her bag of secrets. She took each thing out nervously. First there was the bottle of wine she’d taken from the cellar. It was half-drunk, now, and would soon need replacing. Next there was a battered packet of Marlboro, with three cigarettes in it that she’d still not had the nerve to try smoking. Next were three dirty magazines she’d discovered in one of the gardener’s sheds, a copy of Hustler, a Swank, and. 'Sorry, sexy. The Jays are on their way in a taxi. They're at the corner of the road.'Like Toby, they had dressed up far more than me. Each wore a tight-fitting black latex top. His had a hood that, pulled up, covered his head except for his eyes, nose and mouth; her top had ribbed bra cups, very low at the front, exposing the upper surface of her breasts and revealing her nipples. 'You'll do, ' she said to Toby. They'll all be wondering what you've got on under that kilt. But what about him? Where does he think he's going? His aunty's Hallowe'en party? Come here.' She took a stick of face paint from her handbag and told me to sit down. I submitted to having black lines painted on my cheeks and forehead. They had let their cab go, so Toby phoned for another to take us to the club. God knows what the driver must have thought as we climbed in.When we descended the steps to the fetish bar we found only half a dozen others. Four were wearing black clothes that might have come from any.
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