Michelle clambers off me, and a now naked Vizzini looms behind her, about to take her place at my crotch. Thinking fast, I stand up. ‘I’d love to watch you…together,’ I say, very quietly. I’m holding my breath, expecting one of them to say ‘No, wench, it’s pillaging season! Get back on the couch!’ but Michelle shimmies out of her thong and lies down, her legs open almost 180 degrees. Vizzini leaps between them and goes to work. Light bounces against his bald spot, as he licks and licks while Michelle arches her back theatrically, crying ‘Oh God, oh God, oh God!’ Oh God that feels so good, or oh God please call a chiropractor, I have a twenty-four hour clinic on speed dial because this happens to me a lot?

Every so often, one of them looks up and over at me, to check that I’m enjoying myself. ‘Oh, wow, so hot,’ I say, prodding a nipple that is still slightly sore to the touch. ‘Just going to the loo, but I’ll be right back!’ Shit! Where’s my dress? Never mind. I pick up my bra, realising, with a sinking heart, that my cloakroom ticket is no longer in it, and I’ll have to use my limited descriptive powers in order to get the attendant to pick out my black coat from a line-up of a hundred identical black coats. I can leave without a dress or without a coat but it’s not warm enough or safe enough to go outside in my knickers. Not even in Mayfair.

Vizzini and Michelle are now engaged in full congress. Now it’s his pale buttocks that are bobbing up and down and catching the light. There’s a weird mark on his arse. It looks like a lizard scale. Even though every instinct for self-preservation that I have is screaming at me to run out of the room, I pause, and squint. Almost moaning with relief, I realise what it is. A pink paper rectangle, inked boldly with the number 194. Snatching at it, I cry out ‘Um…lovely to meet you!’ and run away into the night. Well, the night bus. The cloakroom lady does not seem fazed that I’m standing in front of her in my underwear, even though I later realise at home that I put my bra on inside out. ‘Am I the first to leave?’ I ask her. ‘Oh, no, love, not at all, we’ve had a few heading off early. It’s a shame though, you’re all missing the hot nibbles in the break.’