Auguste lay in bed listening. It sounded like moaning, coming from just outside the door. Then words, but muffled. Impossible to make out. Then something metallic. A clinking. Then silence.

Some minutes later Nurse Felice entered the room. “Sleep well, honey?” she asked.

“Some noises woke me,” Auguste told her.

“Noises? What kind of noises? Maybe you were dreaming?”

“Sounded like moaning,” Auguste said. “I hope no one was—”

“Oh, that.” Felice offered a wry smile. “That was just me finger-fucking Naomi. It’s such a kick bringing her off.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Why should I kid?”

“What about the clinking noises?”

“Handcuffs,” Felice said.

“Now I know you’re kidding.”

“Have it your way. I just need to check your ... Mmm, lookin’ good.”

“Where is Naomi?”

“Getting cleaned up. She’s a messy comer. Such a juicy twat.”

“Felice, why are you saying such naughty stuff?”

“Truth. And besides you like it. And besides, it’s true, true, true. You don’t believe me? Here, smell.”

Felice held two fingers beneath Auguste’s nose. “Our girl’s got the loveliest cunt scent. Tastes good too.” She moved the fingers into Auguste’s mouth.

“Satisfied?” Felice asked, after Auguste had licked the moisture from her fingers.

“How do I know...”

“That it’s not my own pussy juice? You know what they say. The proof is in the pudding.” Whereupon Felice climbed up onto Auguste’s bed, knee-walked to his head, pulled up her uniform skirt, and lowered herself onto his face.