Jack was about to ask who was in charge when he saw a middle-aged hippie, with a Billy Thorpe style ponytail, approaching them.

“Hello, I’m Henry Porter.”

“Jack Smith,” said Jack, holding out his right hand, which Henry accepted reluctantly, as though it were something slimy.

“Oh, you’re Chris’ father?” asked Henry.

“That’s right.   Are you in charge around here?”

“I’m one of the organisers,” said Henry.   “No one is actually in charge here.”

Looking around the room at the half nude, half doped, half drunk teenagers who lay about the floor, Jack felt that he was inclined to agree.

“Is Chris about?” asked Kevin.

“No, he left over an hour ago,” said Henry.   “One of our organisers was feeling a bit ill, so Chris offered to see her home.”

They got Gabrielle’s address from Henry, then left.   “Who was that?” demanded the youth, who now had one of Rita’s breasts in each of his hands.

“Chris’ old man,” explained Henry.

“Oh,” said the youth.   “Well, we won’t hold that against Chris.”

*      *      *

11:47 PM

Chris held onto Gabrielle’s breasts squeezing them with all of his might, as he drove his penis hard into her anus one last time and ejaculated deep into her rectum.   Gabrielle shrieked with pleasure and pain, and Chris almost fainted from pleasure.

“I think I’m in love with your arse,” Chris said, after regaining his breath.

“Unfortunately, in this country, you aren’t allowed to marry arses,” said Gabrielle.   “Only whole people.   But I tell you what, I’ll let you have visiting rights occasionally.”

Chris slumped onto his back upon the bed.   Gabrielle put her head to Chris’ crotch and licked his penis clean, then turning, she nuzzled her head into the crook of Chris’ left shoulder, then asked, “So what will you do, if you do decide to quit your job?”

“I really don’t know,” admitted Chris.   “I haven’t given it a lot of thought, lately.   I’d hoped to find something better before quitting, but I’m so tired out at the end of each day that I just don’t have enough energy for job-hunting.”