Gwenneth looked ather tuft of pubic hair, reddish, like the hair on her head. Shecupped each breast in her hand, hoping they might have grown alittle...fuller, more womanly. She took from her pack anold-fashioned flannel nightshirt and dropped it over her head. It was just the thing for sleeping in, for the nights could bechilly, even in July. Then she took out her hairbrush andbrushed her hair for fifty strokes. She held onto the brush andtook from her pack two long scarves. Then she blew. The other man had arrived! He was tall and black, dress in a leather trench coat. Mid aged, he was heavy framed, some could say fat. Though I doubt you'd say it to his face. He had a look of menace, street criminal about him. His eyes glowed with delight seeing young Debbie tied doggie looking over her shoulder back at him.The masked man turned to him also. "Your face man! He shouted. The black thug approached the terrified girl. "I don't need a mask. No one ID's me if they know what's good for. More

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