I tried to stand up. My footing was unsure. I reached for my pocket knife. I burst my life belt and cut away my jacket. My undershirt had been damaged...in the struggle to exit the aircraft. The arms of my shirt were ripped off and the buttons were shot. My muscled torso was exposed as I waded through the surf and onto the beach. The sun was high. It was a hot August day. I reached into my trouser pocket and fished out a damaged pair of sunglasses. I jimmied them back into shape and put them on.. The game got interesting, she was on lead and at one instance I made a stupid error because of which she could get a big word. So, playfully to stop her, I pulled her back, she resisted and in the middle of events, I accidentally grabbed her boobs. We stopped. Both of us were embarrassed and we didn’t talk for some time and started playing silently.Sometimes later, she took my hand and locked with her, assuring me that nothing happened and she hasn’t took it seriously. I was very much relieved.. He'll be here in a moment. Won't you sit down?" It's 'Butterbuns', darling." said Betty. She sat in one of the three new, soft, red-leather settees grouped around a solid marble-topped coffee table in the center of the elegant sitting room. The hem of Betty's little black dress rode up her black-stockinged legs and inched higher as she crossed one spike-booted calf over the opposite knee. "We're known as the 'B's. Betty and Boris. Mr B and Mrs B." She giggled."Buttered buns are something quite. But then she became fixated on penises. She begged me to ’get her one to try’, as she put it,” the mother explained. “I told her I had a hard enough time trying to find one for ME, much less for her!”“Then she asked me about you, Mr. Brooks,” she whispered. “At first, I dismissed the idea with a wave of my hand, but Cherie pushed on. She knew you were rather short tempered, but she thought you to be kind at heart, just lonely. She felt that you would treat her gently, and that you wouldn’t.