They fuck like ferrets. Last night, having invited themselves to dinner, they were overcome with passion between the soup and main course. They retired to the bedroom. Elaine made polite conversation over their gladsome cries. Her friends, embarrassed, left early. Quiet descended long enough for Elaine to go bed. They started again. Their headboard thumps. At 1 am they finally stopped and Elaine got some sleep.
In the morning they were at it again. Elaine put on the kettle, went back to shower, and found that the two of them had migrated to the bathroom and were saving water together. "Oh God, Oh God, I want you inside me!" Rita howled.
Elaine trudged into the kitchen, and drank coffee, her mouth tasting of dead cats. The coffee had its effect. Her bowels started to move. She thumped on the door. "Oh Elaine!" raged Rita. She and Sedgely stomped out angrily, towels around their midriffs. Rita's glance said: do you think you own the place?
Actually, she does. Elaine wonders: if she threw them out, would it stand up in court?
Knowing Sedgely, something probably would.