Others from the ceremony were around the room. Tamisra, the petite Liverpudlian doctor, was fisting James, the stocky Welshman, his face buried betwee... the thighs of the woman who had brought the potion to me. Her tanned European partner watched on, stroking himself while reclined against the wall. Enthusiastic moans drew my attention to another corner, where Kylie, the bearer of my Child of Baphomet – and ripper out of my body hair – was riding a skinny white guy, not dissimilar to myself in. It cost me an arm and a leg, but it was worth every penny when I told her to pack a bag."Why, where are we going?"I refused to tell her until they called our flight and just to see the sheer pleasure on her face was the most beautiful thing I could ever remember seeing."You're taking me to the Canaries?" No." I laughed, "I thought I'd just wind you up."She cried, she actually bloody cried in the airport, and she was still sniffling as we boarded the plane."We're really going aren't we?"I was. More

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