She reached for her sweatshirt and then stopped. Her mind was having a war with itself. Mar knew she had to do what they said. Her life depended on it... Still, another part of her was screaming no. Doing this would change her forever. She'd be broken inside. Looking up, she saw all the gazing eyes and lecherous smiles. Never before had she felt so violated. Why didn't... ?Hurry the fuck up you lazy cracker,? the suited man snarled through clenched teeth. ? You don't want to see me pissed off.?. We were all making polite talk. I learnt Andrea was a writer herself, mostly magazine articles and a few short fictions. It was long before it was time to make our way to our seats. Andrea it seemed had arrived alone as I had, so it seemed somehow natural to fall in alongside as we made our way out. She was wearing a black shawl over her shoulders. I glanced down at her black stocking legs and they looked – just great – from what I could see. She went ahead as we went single file through the. More

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