An hour later we pull up outside the club. Emerging from the taxi, I pull petulantly at my black, muscle-fit, long-sleeved t-shirt. “Fucking hell, Jude. You can see how cold my nipples are in this, and these black jeans are so tight that if I take them off there’ll be an imprint of my dick on them.” He laughs and slaps my arse. “Well hello, Sister Dylan. How nice to meet your puritanical self.”
