Not Moroccan. You don't look Moroccan. Where d'you come from? Switzerland or Austria or something?" Denmark." Oh! I'd never have guessed!" he said, cr...uching down beside her. "I'm sorry for butting in, like, but I saw you were by yourself. I thought you might want company." Really?" said Marla, with a smile. This young man couldn't be much more than twenty, almost a boy really, with a chin that was still relatively smooth and hair that had grown out a bit from whatever style it was originally. I had a classic, mid-twentieth century vibe to it. It would have beencommonplace on any young woman from 1935 to 1965, and just considered'classic' from then on, but it was striking.To begin with, it was yellow, but not a soft, subtle yellow, while alsonot a garish yellow. Just a perfect yellow. The yellow material had afloral pattern on it, but the medium sized flowers were meant to looklike white drawings of flowers. They were several different styles ofwildflowers with stems and leaves that. "Let's bring him into the bedroom," I said, getting off the rack. "What the hell. Let's have some fun." And I went to the backyard where we had that animal tied. Bringing him back, I said, standing him beside the bed, seeing ourselves with the donkey in a set of mirrors we had around our bed to look at ourselves, "Play with his dong, Luce. Have fun with his dong awhile."She looked at me but only for a second. It was a suggestion she wanted to hear. And she rolled to the edge of the bed, went. I rolled over and gained my feet, darting around the second guard as he thrust with his weapon. I leaped over it, stopping him from tripping me.“Vedr's queef!” he snarled.I almost giggled at the vulgarity of his curse. I would have if my heart wasn't hammering in fear. My feet slapped on the tiled floor as I ran as hard as I could. I had no idea where I would flee to. The guards' armor clinked as they charged behind me. There had to be something I could do to lose their pursuit so I could help.