"Morgan, oh, Morgan..."

You wake up to Morgan's laughter.

"What?" you say. You roll over on the bed to face her.

"Fay, you are fairly stinking of cunt!" Morgan says, making a face.

"I thought you liked it," you say.

"As long as it means you're happy," Morgan says. "Are you happy at Beavertail?"

"Satisfied," you say. "Though a little frightened. Tess and I ended up battling her inner demons as thought forms. Cook drove me so wild I bit a piece out of her neck."

"You bit a piece out of Cook's neck?" Morgan says. "Fay."

Your, hate-to-say-it-but-it's-true, your steady girlfriend gives you a concerned look. She props herself up on one elbow, frowns and brushes back her unruly hair.

You try and give Morgan an even gaze in return. Deep breath. Sigh. "Well, Cook has quite an enchantment on her. And she said she liked it. Didn't seem worried. Liked my hunger. Her tits taste like caramel cream. Her cunt is apple tart. Her arsehole is butter crumb pastry. We ate each other for hours. I made her late for shift."

Morgan laughs. "You're BLUSHING!" she says. "Golondrina must be rubbing off on you, you're running headlong from cunt to cunt. Tess, then Cook. We haven't been here a week."

"You mean I'm rubbing off on Golondrina. Remember?"

"Well alright," Morgan says. "I had to pull you out of a pile of girls."

"And then you wouldn't go away, Morgan."

"Are you sorry?" Morgan asks.

You feel a little twinge behind the bridge of your nose. "No?"

"You're CRYING," Morgan says. "Fay?"

"You STOLE my HEART, you dizzy bitch," you say. "Come remind me why I don't want it back." You fall back on your pillow and kick your heels up high and wide.

Morgan shakes her head and laughs. "You know your cunt is pretty? I mean, really pretty?"

Morgan gets an abstracted look on her face, gazing at the unfolded package a handspan below your navel, staring into your cunt like it's a complex sigil. Or the finest gift she's ever received.

But there you are, lying on your back with your heels up and your bum and your split hanging out. And nothing is happening. Morgan needs a push.

"You just want me to keep crying, Morgan," you tell her. "And I thought Whiplash and Hawk were cruel."

"No, I mean, I mean I could stare for hours, I could..." Morgan begins.

"Do me! Do I have to beg?"

Roll +DILIGENCE(+2) (+0 Diligence, +2 FRIEND) to tell Morgan to HAVE SEX.

⚃⚃ + 2 = 10.

On a 10+, Morgan is willing, take +1 Forward. Roll +DILIGENCE(+1) (+0 Diligence, +1 Forward)

⚀⚁ + 1 = 4, Miss.

When you HAVE SEX, on a Miss, something goes wrong. Is it trouble, danger, or are you needed elsewhere?

There's some sort of racket at the door.

Morgan raises her head, her chin glistening with your juices, and looks round.

You mostly succeed in suppressing your wail of disappointment. Way to go, Person from Porlock.