She felt her shirt tug against her skin and then there were ripping soundsfollowed by the feel of cool air. Fingers wrapped around her right then left...reasts, kneading them. Tongues flicked across her nipples. More ripping sounds.She landed hard on her back, the wind forced around the unseen pulpy materialin her mouth. It was hard for her to breathe and then her limbs were beingforced wide, scratchy material circling each ankle and wrist. She screamedagain, not hearing any sounds, and knew she. She needlessly adjusted her white blouse and patterned skirt for the tenth time, before deciding on going left as being as good a course of action as anything else she could think of right then. At least, she thought, her racy green bra and panties were adequately hidden by her attire. She’d still be ogled by the male patrons of course, but she’d grown used to that over the years. At least she was putting up a decent front, for the time being. As Erica headed left, she began to think through. More

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