‘Laila does not need ahusband!’ Juliette scoffed as Cordelia held out her arm and snapped a few photos. ‘This is just to help her have some fun.’
Just as I was about to politely decline again, the doorbell rang. Juliette, Cordelia and Marjorie all looked at each other and smiled.
What were they up to?
‘Could you get that, please, Laila?’ Juliette said, quirking an eyebrow.
‘Okay…’ I frowned.
When I opened the door, there was a tall, very imposing-looking policeman.
‘Laila Hall?’ he boomed.
‘Y-yes? Is everything okay? Has something happened? Is my son okay?’ My heart thumped against my chest.
‘I’m here because you have committed averyserious crime.’
‘What?’ My mind raced as I frantically tried to think about what the hell he could be talking about.
The only bad thing I’d done lately was taking the last chocolate biscuit in the office a few days ago. But no sensible person left chocolate Hobnobs lying around unattended and expected them to last more than five minutes, right?
‘There must be a mistake!’ I added, sweat pooling on my forehead.
‘No.’ He stepped into the hallway. ‘Juliette said you’ve been ignoring your needs, so I’m here to satisfy them.’ He licked his lips suggestively.
Panic washed over me and I was about to cry out for help when I heard laughter from behind me.
‘Juliette?’ I spun around. ‘What’s going on?’
‘He’s not arealpoliceman!’ Marjorie clarified. ‘He’s a stripper! Juliette said we couldn’t throw a party without a bit of sausage!’ She cackled.
A stripper?
Oh, dear God, no.
‘Come this way, sexy,’ Juliette purred, taking the policeman’s hand. ‘And you, Laila!’
Once I’d trudged back to the conservatory, Marjorie pulled out a chair and I reluctantly sat down.
The ‘policeman’, who’d already fired up a sexy song on a mini speaker, stepped forward, stood in front of me and started thrusting his hips back and forth.
Juliette pulled out her phone and started taking photos.
Jesus.
The last thing I needed was photographic evidence of this cringeworthy moment.
Next the guy whipped off his hat and placed it on my head, before trailing his hand across his chest then dropping it between his legs.
My cheeks burned with embarrassment. I knew this was some people’s idea of a good time, but I didn’t like being the centre of attention or having a stranger rubbing his bits and thrusting his hips just inches away from my face.
‘I… this—’ I went to protest, but before I’d managed to string a sentence together, the man had ripped off his shirt, exposing his bare chest.
As Juliette, Marjorie and Cordelia all whooped and cheered, I sank further into my seat.
The policeman continued pumping his hips in time to the music and reached for his trousers, before tearing them off and exposing his tight PVC pants.
‘Oooh-er!’ Marjorie cooed. ‘Is that a truncheon in your pants, officer, or are you just happy to see us?’ She cackled.
