Maybe it’s the high school senior who always gets picked on because she has twice as many pimples as the rest of the student body combined. Maybe it...��s a middle-aged man who works down in the sewers fixing pipes and wading through… well… you know. These people have a lot to complain about and you think to yourself, “wow, their life must really suck”.So why are they always so damn happy? Never without a grin, always giving an enthusiastic wave and a “how do ya do” no matter what time of the day. The air seemed to have turned to water, the rain was coming down so heavily and although they both broke into a run, Amanda and Ebony were soaked through before they took two steps. The sky seemed to shriek at them, with blasts of thunder and lightning, to hurry as they sprinted for the hut. The door of the hut almost flew off its hinges as the girls shoved their way in, panting and wheezing with their hair and clothing sleeked to their bodies. The previous hickers had left the fire set so. I guess that's fair," Stacy agrees, trying to make sure she's following Cara's logic accurately. "Which means, when you are on a break, you're technically, not my employee and I'm no longer your employer. You are just a young, pretty girl, sitting on my sofa…" Cara's voice trails off, conveying the weight of her statement. She taps her immaculate, french-manicured fingernails against the cushion. Stacy swallows the lump in her throat. She suddenly feels very vulnerable and helplessly aroused.. . tension between them that neither would acknowledge out loud, but was expressed in other ways.They would often stand close together, while working on this or that plant. He would slide his fingers slowly over a leaf, damp with the moisture she'd just sprayed on it. She would grasp a thick branch in her hand, running her thumb over it to brush away some dirt. It was a subtle, sensual play, but one they never acknowledged by actually touching each other. Oh they got close, close enough to feel.