Top down on the automobile. Tops down on the nubs of nipple inside.

Constance witnessed this flock of nubile birds as they took flight from the lap of a silver-blond man she didn’t recognize. Even though she was sure she had seen the automobile he rode in arrive once before, earlier.

“Ah! you are Constance-are you not?” a fair- skinned man with the Latin flair whispered into Constance’s hair. “May I have this dance?” Could he tell her twat was hot?

Did she dare?

Would her family care? “Why, I don’t believe we’ve properly met,” Constance said. “So I will have to say not just yet with regard to your request.”

“Is pleasure beyond measure, my senorita, to introduce yourself to my highness Arturo Mondragon Bourbon-myself-at your illustrious service.”

“Learn to speak English.”

“Fuck you.”

“See how easy it is?”

“Join me in this tango.”

“As you suggest,” Constance lifted her wrist to be kissed. “But remember this, you brute. I never fuck. I just watch.”

She casually slid the bottle of Lafirte Rothschild from her bum.

Sucked down a slug.

“A fine vintage,” Arturo said. “Have you tried the Margaux of the same year?”

“In my mouth or my rear?”

Constance lifted her legs above her head.

Her asshole worked lividly. She drained the remainder of the red claret into her intestines. Snapped the empty bottle from her rump.

Constance gave a tap to her bloated belly.

Her asshole sputtered and thumped.

Richly colored liquid ran like fruit juice. Spurts from her asscrack piped down the sides of the marble pedestal as a gaggle of servants rushed to attendance.

They tossed several crystal decanters full of mineral water between the lady’s cavorting legs and rinsed out her squeaking bowels. The nearly naked slaveys then wiped down the body and the marble with snow-white towels.

“I think I’m almost ready for the dance,” Constance said with a cock of her head.