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Hours had gone by but one of the canvases had remained bare. It wasn’t until the banging of hammers from the construction site down the street broke through her concentration. Her fingers moved effortlessly and guided the pencil as she etched in several abstract lines. To the beat of the banging and clanking of metal, lines turned into the shapes, which formed the outline of what she would paint over. The client had requested something urban, so it seemed fitting that Hadley’s inspiration was. .when i went closer and he moved his hand behind on my skirt…i said ‘can you please make me the captain this yr’..he slowly moved his hand from above to below the skirt and was now on my buttocks..he squeezed on on it with his hand and said ‘mujhe kya milega ??’..he had now started to move his hands near my ass and pussy…i was not big enough to know wad sex was exactly but vaguely i knew he wanted to do those bad things to me..but i wanted to be the captain and had very little time to decide…so. At some point the tunnel had collapsed. The ceiling slabs, which were five or six meters square lay at odd angles against the remains of broken walls and dark rich-smelling earth had almost filled the tunnel entirely. I stopped and shined my light across the wreckage. “Well, that was short-lived.” Chance said. “Going to have to get some diggers down to move off that…” “Wait,” I said and took a few steps forward onto one of the ceiling slabs. “I think I see…” My light had found an opening.. She packed lightly for the trip, taking only one dress to wear to dinner if necessary and otherwise keeping her wardrobe confined to casual resort-style wear. Two wrap-round skirts, one long, one short; three sarongs; a beach wrap; two bikinis, one of them exceptionally tiny; the usual quota of underwear; some casual tops; runners; a pair of deck-shoes and one set of high heels; and, on final thought, her massage string. She thought she might get to wear that a couple of times. She liked to.
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