nd out she was going to Paris, Janet had remembered a beret she had in her locker and had put it on Ken, the mannequin, when it was Adele’s turn.
‘Ooh, Ken,’ Adele said in a terrible French accent as she knelt over him, ‘Why do you just lie there so still? Let’s get this heart racing...’
Janet was laughing loudly and then looked up at the open door. ‘Oh, Zahir, I thought you’d gone.’
‘I’m just leaving now.’
She got more reaction out of Ken, Adele thought as, blushing, she massaged his chest.
The best bit was supper was