I widen my stance. I have no idea what to do with my hands, so I let my arms hang to the sides, but I’m pretty sure neither of these guys are focused on my hand movements right now.

He brackets my waist with hands, his grip strong. ‘Now come and sit on my lap.’

I lower myself into a seated position. The wool of his trousers feels somehow forbidden against my bare skin. Ethan collapses back on the sofa and spreads his arms out along its back. There’s something arrogantly expectant about the pose—it suggests he sees a lap dance or a blow job in his near future—but the deep sigh he lets out tells me he’s more agitated than he’s letting on.

Brendan, on the other hand, seems in his element. I know from his questionnaire that he’s a voyeur, and all my experience of him tells me he likes to show off, too.

‘Right,’ he says, ‘I want those legs even wider. Hook them around the outside of my knees.’

I take a deep breath and do as he says, stepping each foot wider. He widens his legs too so that I’m straddling him. Which, of course, means that Ethan now has the money shot.

‘Can you see?’ Brendan asks him.

‘Indeed I can.’ Ethan’s voice is low. Gruff. His eyes flicker back up to my face before returning to my pussy, which is on a platter for him. My skin heats with mortification and shame and something else, something darker and far less predictable.

‘Does she look nice and wet?’

‘She does, yeah. She really fucking does.’

‘Let’s see, shall we?’ Brendan takes one hand off my waist and slides it around to my front so he can finger me in front of his friend, and oh my God, the shame of it. The shame of being played with like a little toy, of wearing this kinky lingerie that gives him full access to his fuck doll, of my boss fingering me in front of his friend who I’ve only just met.

But that’s not the worst part. The worst part is that I’m wet. Seriously wet. Wet enough that it’s actually audible when Brendan’s skilful fingers slide over my still-swollen clit and push inside me. I’m so slick. I know it, and so do they.

Ethan is holding himself still, breathing slowly and steadily like it’s the only thing tethering him to reality. His eyes haven’t left the spot where Brendan is breaching my body.

Brendan pulls his fingers out, and I let out a completely involuntary whimper of distress.