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“I wish I’d seen it.”“Just don’t tell anyone I told you.”“I wouldn’t. It’d be like Talulah, and telling about her.”I nodded. “But it was so sexy,” I said.“Sod off you bastard,” Bondy wailed softly. He wasn’t actually cross or angry with me, just gently frustrated. I laughed, but stopped teasing him. It was enough.After lunch I had chemistry theory, followed by another maths lesson, then a ten-minute break and the final lesson of the day, physics theory.I never knew whether schools in America really were the way they seemed to be depicted in film and on TV: when the bell went, everyone just got up and rushed off, regardless of whether the teacher was in the middle of talking. In England you had to wait until you were dismissed. If you started to put things away before then, you could, and sometimes would, get into trouble.After the bell went, Mrs Clarke finished what she was saying, then told us to put our things away. “Simpson, wait please.” She didn’t sound all that happy.After. Her eyes darted around as the kitchen staff watched her. Their lookswere hungry, almost animal like and fresh waves of tears poured downward, soakingthe string against her cheeks. The body builder pulled her forward to the butcherblock table she had passed earlier, pushing her to the narrow end and forcingher downward until her breasts pressed against the wood, her bottom exposed. She felt fingers on her ankles and her legs were pulled apart. More stringwas wrapped around her and she realized that the waiter and one of the otherkitchen helpers had tied her delicate legs, spread and vulnerable, to the bottomsof the table supports. "Can you lift yourself up off the table, cheri ?" Askedthe Chef. Melanie just lay there, not responding, tears dripping to the heavywood. The Chef laughed. "Of course you can moi cheri . Andyou will when we need you too." He turned to the rest of the staff. "Get onwith your duties. This is no more than a regular meal preparation for a guest!" Melanie.
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