They were holidaying on an island, each between jobs. It was just a short flight from home and was said to be a good place to relax and have fun. And it had certainly proved to be all that was claimed for it, Em thought. They’d been having a drink at their hotel’s beach-side bar one afternoon when a man, apparently a regular customer, decided to make friends with them. Em recalled Ambrose saying to her later, “He really just wanted to get into your pants, Em.” He was right. She even remembered thinking that herself, at the time. But the man had offered them dinner and suggested they go to a nightclub afterwards, and Em was in a playful mood. As they left another drinker at the bar had said to Ambrose, “Be very careful, Monsieur.” Ambrose had smiled his thanks. He hadn’t needed almanbahis the warning, but it was nice that someone cared. They went with him to a restaurant in town and ate; quite well as it turned out. The difficulty lay in maintaining conversation in French. They had managed, Em recalled with a smile, but like Wellington’s assessment of the battle of Waterloo it was a damn close thing. Pierre (that was his name) had been very closely attentive to Em over dinner. Ambrose had told her later he felt a bit like a Parisian sidewalk deposit; a necessary but fundamentally unhelpful part of the ambiance. Dinner finished, Pierre then suggested they drive two blocks to a nice little nightclub he knew where they did a very hot floorshow and had some very pretty girls. They could spend almanbahis yeni giriş a couple of hours there and then go back to their hotel by taxi if they wished. Ambrose was sure Pierre wished that he would in fact get in a taxi and go back to their hotel. But that wasn’t about to happen. And Pierre had mentioned pretty girls. A little later they were seated in a private room at the club, a bottle of hugely overpriced whisky on the table, waiting for the floor show to begin. Pierre leaned over to Ambrose, pointed to the other side of the room, and said to him, “Pretty girls there. Why not go and dance with them?” Ambrose looked at Em. Doing this, he got the message that he should go and have a dance. He could come back for the floorshow. So that’s what he did. But almanbahis giriş he didn’t make it back to Em and Pierre’s table for the floorshow, because he was watching it from another one. He’d planned to return but “his” girl told him it would be more fun to watch it with her. She said her name was Giselle and Ambrose had noted that the bits of her that he could see, which were quite extensive, were a lovely pale coffee colour. Since it was obviously going to be possible, he decided he should check out the rest of her too. Em chatted with Pierre. He had suddenly found some English, she noted with an inward smile. The lights in the private room were dimming in preparation for the floor show. She felt Pierre’s hand on her knee. She looked at him and was about to say “No” when he slid it up her thigh under her skirt and into her little lacy panties. But she didn’t say “No.” Instead she felt instantly hot and told him, “You shouldn’t be doing that.” And he had said with a smile, “I know I shouldn’t be doing it.