They watched as Omar went up to the bar, and then Susan sat at the table with her friends.“Well was he up to your expectations then?” Greta quizze...d, her eyes still on Omar.“My expectations and more, God, he’s good; never did I consider that I’d take it in one, slid into me as if I we’re made for him, I just hope there’s more. Well…when I saw it Christ, I’d never have realised a man could be that well equipped, and he certainly knew how to use it!” Susan could feel the dampness on the increase. ..heard a.noise.”Momma grunted. “We’ll discuss this later.” My shoulders slumped and I turned towards the hall. “About that noise you heard…” I sighed. “Just a woodpecker.” “Next time you hear it…”I heard Papa come out of the bathroom and ran for the hills— or in this case the safety of my bedroom. Momma and I never did have that discussion, nor did she tell Papa about my spying. Every time I heard them going at it… Well you can guess what I did. I grew a bit over the years since; broke six. I went off to hunt up dinner.I was brought up short, later, in my reading of Book II at a passage where Bridget tells Colin that:"I'm not beautiful. I don't come up in the least to the artist's standard. My measurements are wrong. I'm too small."To which Colin responds: "That's rot."Only a few weeks ago Winnie had told me that she was too small. I didn't think she was "beautiful," but I certainly thought she was nice-looking. Not a film star. But who'd want to be with a film star? I was still. He motioned with his head toward the upstairs window. He already knew--he'd made it his business to find out-- that it was his uncle's bedroom, and Uncle Bob was still up there. The air was quiet, and Nick was in no mood to play games, not even with Betsy, if the price might be a bullet in his balls."Oh!" Betsy gasped. She held onto the ladder with one hand and flipped her T-shirt up with the other, flashing her tits at Nick. His mouth watered at the sight of them. His lips pursed.