She pulled her neck hard against hem, pressing her arms together in front of herself. She put down her arms, put them by her sides. She closed her eyes, gently closed her eyes. She stood and felt herself breath, heard herself breath. Slowly she crossed her hands in front of herself, standing as she might stand before the Virgin. She seemed as though in prayer, praying for the soul of the man, or perhaps the woman, who had lain upon those sheets. No prayer escaped her lips. Her hands lay crossed over her chest, not in prayer, but in gentle touching. Her palms pressed against the tight rises beneath them. She felt that pressing, felt it flow through her body. Her palms moved in slow motions of pressure, first hard, then soft, then hard again. She felt the pressure invade her body, radiate out and through it into some part of her she did not know she possessed. Still she stood there, feeling, delighting, wondering at the sensations flooding and ebbing within. On her feet were white knee-high leather boots. In Laura’s opinion it was a rather cheap display but chose not to get into the usual argument today.Enjoying her tea while chiding Jenna for crossing her legs suggestively in public; Laura noticed several black men sitting in a van across the street. Disgustingly, the blacks appeared to be ogling Jenna. Laura marched straight over to them, ordered them on their way, marched back to the caf?paid the bill and, in a huff, trotted back to her car.Laura and Jenna continued their afternoon drive not noticing the van tailing them in the distance. Soon, at Jenna’s request, they pulled off at a small, secluded beach, parking their shiny BMW just past the sign that read “Beach Closed – Use at Your Own Risk”. Strolling down to the water’s edge they didn’t notice the old van pull up beside their car. Nor did they notice the 5 big knife-wielding black men step out, rub their crotches and leer in the women’s direction. The men lounged against Laura’s.
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