Rebecca is holding up a number 2. There’s silence for a few seconds, then a sultry black girl reclining in the armchair slowly takes a card out of her pants pocket. “Well, I do believe that’s me” she says, waving the number 2 languidly in her hand.

She eases herself up. You can see she’s a statuesque beauty of African descent, about six feet tall, with shiny dark black skin, short straightened hair and a glint in her eye. She’s wearing her cheerleader’s skirt and just a short sports top. She stretches her arms upwards; as she does so you can see her most of her slightly rounded stomach and her bellybutton stud.

She takes a few elegant strides towards you. “So, this is the guy who thinks we can’t digest him, huh?” she asks, arching her eyebrows quizzically. She drapes her long arms round your neck. “Well, draw me from the hat and I’ll be putting that to the test right away, boy. My name’s Denise and my belly is ready for you. Uh – huh!” She unhooks one of her arms to rub her midriff, then looks right into your eyes and runs her tongue along her lips.

This performance leaves you speechless - you just gawp at her, so Denise presses home her advantage. “Part of the deal is we gotta tell you a bit ‘bout ourselves, so here’s me. I’m 25 and I just luuurve vore, I’ve been certified since I was 17. Let me tell you how I get my steady supply of people to eat. I’ve been manageress of a unisex chain fashion store downtown these last four years. I’ve got me a good store and a good team. We’re a big hit with my head office because we hardly ever get complaints and returns.”

Denise comes even closer to you and smiles broadly. “Well, there’s a very good reason for that. Staff know to call me when some dumbass gives them grief about stuff. I invite the customer into the storeroom to talk about it and when I’ve got them past the door, I demand to see their vore tickets. If they’ve not got them, which is most of the time, well … let’s just say I deal with the complaint internally from then on. Know what I mean, Luke?” She smacks her lips together.

“Word does get around not to cause us hassle, but you still get a few” Denise adds. “Still round about one a week, sometimes more. Saves me buying lunch. Means I mostly get to eat women, but what the hell. Must have sent well over 200 on a one-way journey. When I first started, sometimes used to get a bellyache, but now, one big gulp and that’s it, plus my employers think the sun shines out of my ass. And you, Luke – you think you can be the first to stand up to my digestive system?”

Denise unhooks her arms and turns her back to walk over to the couch. She looks over her shoulder. “Bring it on!”

“So, number 3 – who’s that?” asks Rebecca.