Her mousy hair was cut into an inverted bob, which meant that the back curved upwards, not down, exposing her pale, lightly haired, and oddly pristine...neck. She was wearing a tight black top with “Sparkle” spelled out in sequins, and her belly bulged over the waistband of her cheap jeans. She spoke in an ugly mishmash of accents that had as its base a generic London/south of England whine but with the stretched vowels of West Indian immigrants. It was as if she and her millions of peers were. For a while I continued to squeeze her breasts. Suddenly with no warning, she opened her eyes and looked into mine. “Are you just going to squeeze over my clothes? Most probably you will leave a mark over my white shirt.”With this she reached down and lifting herself slightly, she pulled her khameez up so I could not reach under her top easily. Then she arched her back and undid the clasp of her bra. Then she put her head on the glass and closed her eyes again. I couldn’t believe what had just. ..I'm looking as she walks, she turns a bit, like she knows that I'm looking..oh, she knows!...."OK Mat, see ya then..." I'm of to counter...she's in front of me...so elegant as she puts her stuff on counter, how she fixes her hair, her blouse fits her so well, curves made for enjoying...watching even more than touching...Paying my stuff, I see her slowly walking with her basket, she turns like she forgot something...I'm passing by her...few feet's in front...to hell with it..."Hey, do you. ? Stu felt jealous of Fenton?s ?little gal?..buthe forgot as Fenton unzipped the inside of his jacket and pulled out a coiledleather thing. ?This, Stuart is a scourge,? named from the Italian scoriada,ultimately from the Latin excoriare= "to flay" and corium = "skin"..and it?s my original, from yearsago.? Fenton uncoiled it, and Stuart gasped. It was indeedthe short whip in the magazine! A wooden handle with five leather thongsembedded with little pieces of sharp metal interspersed up and down.