I stood there, staring straight ahead at a bunch of boxes, feeling violated."Okay, I guess it's not up there," he said, breathing hard. "Come on down....I made sure not to step in the gooey semen splattered on the cement floor as I got off the ladder. Mr. Walters offered me a job and told me he would do me a favor since I was underage and pay me in cash off the books. But I mustn't tell anyone. He also informed me that the dress code was a skirt. So that's how I got the job. Mr. Walters. She was incredibly jealous of Nina but there was nothing she could do to amend the situation. No one was to know of her obsession with Shane. No one. Shaunny went downstairs after her shower in search for Shane and Nina but they weren’t anywhere in sight. She was famished and she didn’t want to have dinner alone. Damn them! They’d just had to leave her alone! They were probably off fucking somewhere! She sat down on the living room couch feeling abandoned and alone. She was tempted to call. He is in plaster and the hospital has told him that he would have to go on holiday with it on. Ron said that he didn’t fancy going on holiday with his foot in plaster and suggested that I should invite you to go in his place, that’s if you have nothing else on. It would be company for me. I’ll have to ask Tom but I’m sure he will be ok with it. Come on said Shilla; let’s try on some of the sexy underwear before the men come back. Giggling like a couple of school kids, we. And who could blame ’em, really. Not me, certainly. It was — dare I say it — very Nice out. So all these Nice people have been working all day, go to their Nice homes in the evening and change into Nice clothes, dump on liberal quantities of Penhaligon and Chanel or, for all I know, a little Eau de Muskrat, and head out for a Nice dinner — right over my bunk. Know what? Perfume, cologne, eau de whatever? It sinks. Sinks like the bird-turd in a martini. Sautéed snails testicles and l’eau de.