Now Anna was propped up on the edge of the sink, legs flailing about at absurd angles around Nigel's shoulders. He clapped a hand over her mouth. For fuck's sake.
People are right outside.
That seemed to excite him even more, and he moved faster. She braced herself more firmly, arching her back, and then he let out a groan. She'd come a long time ago, and after a minute she sat up, unceremoniously sliding herself away from Nigel and his limpness. She jumped off the sink, wiped herself quickly, pulled on her tights, which Nigel had thrown in the direction of the bathtub, and struggled to pull down her bunched-up skirt over her ample hips. Nigel was still panting, one arm leaning against the sink, his trousers around his ankles.