Priya bent over the table and placed a rolled fifty Pound note up her right nostril, and, closing the left nostril with her index finger, inhaled. Guiding the note across the thick white line of powder on the mirror below and tilting her head back once the line had gone. This is fucking crazy, she thought. Tyrone watched Priya bend over. Her skirt, already short enough to show she wasn’t wearing any panties when she stood...