The night is a deep velvet blue and the moon an alabaster balloon and the planets and the stars are spilled across the heavens, in handfuls and heaps, like gold coins. The smell of brine lives deep within the breeze that blows up from across the ocean and speaks [...] of deep, feminine mysteries and unawakened and illimitable desires, of silver-haired mermaids and bearded, trident-waving mermen and the looped humps of sea monsters and bejewelled cities drowned beneath masses of unreadable water.

Minute beads of perspiration has formed under Georgia's eyes, as she says "All right. I'll have the bath oil!" and then releases her fraught and silvery giggle. Bunny shoots his cuffs ans writes on the order form. "One bottle of Moroccan Rose Oil for the lovely Georgia." Bunny smiles at Georgia and Georgia, in time, meets his eyes, and smiles back at him and Bunny knowes, without arrogance or hubris, more than he knows anything in this world, that he could fuck Georgia in a heartbeat. Amanda too, he thinks. Zoë would need a little more work but it was Georgia that would give out and give out all the fucking way.