Blonde Needles in a Giant Haystack 10

According to their information, the abandoned fort was 88 miles away if they avoided Haousa and did a considerable part of the trip offroad. This wasn’t a problem; the men had all driven cars under worse conditions, and the area was neither very steep nor too uneven for the Land Rover. They could not go faster than some 30 mph, but they weren’t in a hurry and even found some boyish fun in getting over bumps and through dried levies.

There was no fun for their passengers, though, for the four bound and gagged girls had to follow every move of the car, and the way they were tied made things even worse.

Crouching between Carmen’s thighs, and her head tied close to the other’s lap, Babette had forgotten about the vile taste of her gag, forgotten about the painful elbow tie, forgotten even about the crotch rope that bisected her pubic mound. She was feeling a helpless victim of gravity and centrifugal force, and none of those was kind to her, though there were nuances in her predicament:

If she was forced to the right, her ear was pressed against Carmen’s inner thigh; Inconvenient, but tolerable. The same was, of course, if she had to lean to the left. However, the car didn’t take too many curves, and instead, it drove up and down a lot of hills.

Up the hill meant that her breasts were squashed against the backseat, and she had to arch her head backwards to not get her face buried in Carmen’s lap. It was terrible, but every time the car went down a hill, Carmen involuntarily slid forward, and Babette had no chance to avoid the close contact of her mouth and nose and the other’s crotch. Babette fought for breath, and she literally inhaled Carmen’s scent. A part of her wished she would faint, but she also feared that she would suffocate if she did so.

For Carmen, the situation was little better. She was forced to bend forward, and Babette’s head either pushed against her middle or her lower belly. Each movement of the car made the other tug on her crotch rope, and to Carmen’s horror, she wasn’t only appalled, but also found the constant rough massage a little exciting.

»This Babette’s a pretty girl! Under other circumstances-«

It was a thought she shouldn’t follow, for she didn’t want to risk that Babette could see and smell how she was thinking. However, it was the only escape her current plight offered, and so, she clung to it.

Beside her, Inga was tempted to bend forward even more, trying to trap Dalanda’s head and smother the girl. For her, the situation was humiliating, too, and she had to give the Black the point that she had less experience with such bondage. And yet, Dalanda constantly squirmed, and she repeatedly screamed into her gag, sending vibrations through Inga’s lap.

Indeed, Dalanda was close to a panic attack, or even in the throes of one, for there was little difference. The rope between her legs seemed to chafe her on the slightest movement, the strange pantyhose in her mouth was driving her insane, and then, there was the pair of panties over her head. She had to breathe through another woman’s fragrance, had to breathe in even more of the scent from Inga’s lap, and since she could hardly see a thing, her other senses were sharpened even more.

So, all four were in quite a mess, and it took them a while to realize the car had stopped. Little later, the door was opened.

»We are there, Ladies!«

***

At Sidi Ifni, the two groups met at the parking lot of a supermarket where they seemed to be the only foreigners. However, none of the people gave them more than a cursory look, and they could gather and talk about their further steps.

»If we want to know more about the theft of the yacht, we have to attend the Police Office! I think I will act as an agent of Stuyvesant’s insurance who wants to make sure that there isn’t a fraud going on!«

Sato frowned at John, but he had to admit that his plan was reasonable. Nevertheless, he didn’t want to let the man go alone.

»I’ll accompany him! We already talked about that in the car!«

It was Gabriela; they had decided that the appearance of a Policewoman in uniform would underline that John was serious. What he hadn’t mentioned was that he rather hoped she would distract her Moroccan colleagues a bit. Melissa hadn’t been too excited about that, but she had agreed that she and Johanna would have an eye on Ana who, currently guarded by Melissa, was crouching in the car’s foot room.

»Which brings me to the third and last group: Jeb and Sato!«

He raised his hand, anticipating Sato’s protests; Jeb had already been briefed by him.

»We will need an off-road vehicle, better two! Try your best with the cash you have, and after that, you meet at the hotel the Ladies hopefully have organized until then!«

The two men looked at each other with a mixture of hatred and disgust. However, when they put their available cash money together, each took half of it and they walked towards the nearby business area where they hoped to find a used car salesman. Gabriela shortly bent into the car to say Goodbye to Melissa and then left together with John. Johanna looked at the supermarket and also looked into the car without getting inside.

»I have an idea! Just give me half an hour!«

***

To call the abandoned outpost a fort was an exaggeration. It was surrounded by a withered concrete wall and consisted of two barracks with roofs made of corrugated iron. An old flagpole told that this had once been a military place, and beside it was the reason why the men had chosen this outpost for meeting: a well.

»According to our sources, the water is good and clean, and there is enough you can not only just drink, but also wash yourselves!«

They had placed their captives in a row under the overhanging roof of one of the barracks. They all showed signs of severe exhaustion. Inga was the only one who still had the power to look angrily and to sit upright. Beside her, Dalanda had sunk to the ground, only her heaving chest and the slight billowing of the sweaty panties covering her face indicating she was still alive. The combination of musty air, constant screaming and fear had driven her to the brink of fainting.

Babette was little better off, feeling dirty with the gooey sweat all over her body. Carmen meanwhile hoped that neither she nor one of the men would notice the wet spot at her panties: the constant massage of the crotch rope and the close presence of Babette hadn’t left her completely indifferent, and she hoped it would dry before any of their captors would make lewd comments.

The outpost was lacking a door; it had consisted of wood, and so, it had once been removed by people who needed firewood. So, Nico, who had lost in »Rock paper Scissors«, had to sit beside the entrance and have a look at the only road leading to the building. Both Marco and Cory had stripped to their shorts and were washing themselves, playing with the water bucket as if they were boys. A grinning Cory finally took the full bucket, carried it over to the girls and poured it over them, laughing at their spluttering and gasping. The shower had been refreshing, but since the well was deep, the water had been surprisingly cold.

»I don’t think the others will be here until dusk! So, we have to do something to pass the time, eh?«

None of the four liked the glistering in Cory’s eyes. He whispered something into Marco’s ear, and the Black just shrugged. He then picked a few pebbles and hid them in his hand, allowing Cory to take two. He turned towards the captives and announced:

»You will be allowed some freedom, but of course, we have to be careful, too! So, we built two pairs, and these will be tied together by their ankles!«

Marco reached for his gun and Cory approached Inga, drawing his knife. She stared at him with calm hatred, and he grabbed the cleavage of her little dress.

»Looks like you won’t need it anymore!«

He pulled, and the dress tore, exposing Inga’s firm breasts. By more pulling, and with the help of the knife, he removed the dress completely, leaving her in just her borrowed white lacy panties.

»You may either remove them yourself once I have untied you, or I will do it for you if you refuse! Your choice, Blondie!«

He cut the ropes away and freed her from the handcuffs. The Swede managed to get on her feet and staggered over to the well where the refilled bucket was waiting.

»Take off the panties and place them over there!«

Cory pointed at a shadowy spot beside a small rock.

»You may also ungag yourself and put the pantyhose beside it!«

This was an order Inga followed deliberately, and after that, she went for the bucket, drinking some water from her hollow hand. Then, she also used some to wash her face and arms, but decided not to pour it over her body, as the cold water would cause her nipples to harden.

The sun was burning down on her, and so, she withdrew to the shadow, waiting for Cory to strip Carmen to her panties before allowing her to ungag herself and to have some water. Like Inga, Carmen had to take off the black lacy panties, and when she had approached Inga, Cory cuffed her right ankle to the Swede’s left. Otherwise, they were left unrestrained.

Babette rolled her eyes. So, her »partner« would be Dalanda whom she still blamed for Marco having lost interest in her, so she was seen as fair game by Cory. Said man now bent over her, enjoying how the sweaty, transparent dress clung to her buxom forms before he ripped it away. Babette didn’t hesitate to remove the black panties that showed Dalanda had been wearing them for quite some time. She quickly ungagged herself, draped the damp pantyhose beside them and then had to get a new bucket from the well until she could refresh herself. With a look at Marco, she decided to play dirty to regain his attention, as at least, he seemed to be kind.

»It’s really hot, isn’t it?«

She took a deep breath and then poured the whole bucket over herself. Babette gasped at the cold shower, and she forced herself to arch back, so Marco got a good display of her features. Indeed, the man grinned and held a thumb up as she pranced towards the shadow.

»So, playing hard to get isn’t your approach?«, Inga commented sarcastically. Babette just shrugged and watched as Cory ripped the dress from Dalanda who seemed to weakened to protest much. Soon, she, too was naked and free, and Cory cuffed her right ankle to Babette’s left.

»Ebony and Ivory, cuffed together in harmony!«

Dalanda found the strength to raise her middle finger, but shied back when Cory wielded his knife. Marco fetched a bag and placed a few things on the rim of the well.

»I hope you don’t mind using men’s toiletries!«

Cory let his eyes wander over the four naked women before he spoke:

»Now, the first pair will get to the well and wash! You will soap and wash each other, and you are only finished when we say you are!«

He focussed Inga from whom he expected the most resistance:

»If you refuse, we have to assume that you don’t like water, and you won’t be given any for the time you are in our custody – which might then also be the rest of your lives!«

Inga was tempted to try whether they would really dare to let them perish, since they obviously saw them as valuable goods. However, Carmen poked her side and whispered:

»We won’t die from it! Better your hands on my body than his!«

Inga gave her a small smile.

»You have a point there!«

They approached the well where Inga had to start by pouring a bucket of water over Carmen. Whilst she stood there, dripping and shivering, she had to take a bottle of a cheap showering gel and shampoo combination and soap Carmen’s hair, followed by her body. As they both had guessed, Cory ordered her to do extra time on Carmen’s breasts and butt, and he then directed her to wash her pubic mound and the area between her legs, too.

When the men were bored by the show, Carmen had to lean forward, her hands on the well’s rim and her legs spread, as if she was searched by a cop. Instead, Inga had to wash the soap from her body and hair. In the sun, her body dried quickly, and as a finishing humiliation, Cory had Inga cream the other’s body with sun oil.

It was then Inga’s turn to be washed by Carmen, and though her cheeks were aflame and her eyes showed her distress, she didn’t utter a complaint, denying Cory further amusement.

Both Babette and Dalanda had watched the ordeal, knowing they would be next. The Black repeatedly shook her head.

»I can’t do that! I just can’t!«

Babette felt the mixture of pity and contempt her greater experience with being the captive of more or less creepy guys gave her.

»I am not anticipating it either – but we will do whatever it takes to stay well and alive!«

»Well!«. Dalanda scoffed. Then, in a calmer tone, she added:

»It’s just – I’ve never been that – close to another woman!«

For a moment, it seemed that Babette’s pity was victorious, allowing her to perhaps take Dalanda’s hand, telling her that they would get through this. Then, however, she showed a grim smile:

»Good! I didn’t want you to get carried away when you touch me!«

Their conversation was interrupted as it was their turn to get to the well. Babette, also not used to getting touched by other girls, tried to steel herself for Dalanda soaping her body after she had poured water over her. The Black did her hair, back and limbs, each time twitching slightly when her bare breasts touched Babette. Then, when it came to her front, she hesitated.

»Just do it, they don’t bite!«, Babette hissed through gritted teeth as she saw Cory approach. In feigned friendliness, he asked:

»So, you don’t want to do Babsi’s lovely boobs?«

He grabbed Dalanda’s hand with his left and poured some soap on it. Then, he pressed it against Babette’s right breast whilst he cupped her left.

»Now, do exactly as I do!«

Cory groped her breast and moved his hand over it, at the same time directing Dalanda’s hand over the other. Babette blushed and was not sure what was worse, the rough massage or the reluctant soaping. It seemed to last for hours until Cory finally told Dalanda to now do Babette’s other breast, too.

Panting, and not looking at Babette’s face, Dalanda did her belly, but when it came to her pubic area, she again hesitated.

»Better you than him!«, Babette whispered, but this only added to Dalanda’s dilemma. She just didn’t want to touch another woman there, and again, she hesitated for too long. He again grabbed her hand and mercilessly directed the girl’s fingers all over her most intimate spots. When it was over, Babette had to lean against the well, as her legs felt wobbly.

After that ordeal, getting her buttocks soaped wasn’t equally bad, even as Cory spread them so Dalanda could take care of her cleft. She was then washed clean, but to her surprise, she was not creamed with sun oil. Instead, Cory produced a can of shaving foam and a razor.

»You heard the boss! You have grown a bit stubbly during the last days!«

Dalanda gasped, and though she tried not to show her revulsion, her hands slightly trembled. Cory shook his head.

»You might cut her, and I don’t want to spend all day leading your hand! Marco!«

The black man flexed his finger and took a second razor. Babette had to put her hands on top of her head, and she had to put one foot on the well’s rim. Marco creamed her left armpit and quickly shaved it, even dabbing her armpit with a wet piece of her ripped dress. On the other side, things took a little longer, as Cory again led Dalanda’s hand and insisted on inspecting the quality of her work.

It was similar as they did her legs, and Babette gulped when she saw what part of her body was left. She felt the terrible urge to chuckle at the thought of how they would divide her middle between them. It turned out that this decision was left up to her:

»Now, whom do you trust the most to get the job done, Babsi?«

So far, Dalanda hadn’t cut her, but she neither wanted to risk that her fingers still trembled nor that again Cory »assisted« her, and of the two men, the choice was easy:

»M-Marco!«

»Cracker Girl loves it if the black boy has to do the menial works!«, Marco joked and though Babette felt as if jumping into the well was also an option, he shaved her pubic area quick and without hurting her. Dalanda, closely observed by Cory, creamed her with sun oil, remarking that she would only have to do that to Dalanda if she insisted.

»No!«, the Black so quickly spat that both men chuckled.

She then had to take care of Dalanda, and when she soaped her hair, Babette suddenly chortled.

»Hm?«

Babette shook her head.

»It’s nothing! Just, when I was at school, I was told it is insulting to ask black people whether I may touch their hair! Well, I nevertheless always felt a little curious if it felt different!«

Dalanda, who had occasionally heard that question from white co-pupils, rolled her eyes.

»At least one of us is happy!«

The girl then managed to endure getting soaped without twitching, but Babette could only think about Dalanda’s body hair that obviously hadn’t been removed for some time.

»Someone will be quite busy with that!«

Ben’s words echoed through her head when she creamed the girl’s armpits, and Dalanda helplessly twitched when she did so since she was ticklish there. It was worse for both when she soaped her pubic area and Cory commented that at least, these hairs would come off clean.

When Dalanda was washed, Cory demanded that Babette showed him her hands.

»They seem steady enough to me – and I need a cigarette!«

Babette looked at Marco, but he also didn’t show interest. So, she grabbed the shaving foam and the razor.

»Hands up – and try not to twitch this time!«

Dalanda helplessly trembled when she applied the foam, and again, Babette felt the mixture of pity and contempt. She tried to work carefully, thanking the fact that this was a Gilette razor and not a razorblade.

»If you don’t get all hairs, I will pluck those you forget!«, Cory informed her, and Babette groaned before she inspected Dalanda’s armpits closely. When Cory looked, he indeed could not find a hair left. Obviously disappointed, he plucked one of Dalanda’s pubic hairs instead, chuckling as she gasped, hurt more in her dignity than physically.

Doing the legs was even easier on someone else than when she shaved her own, and obviously, the girl wasn’t ticklish there. Now, only the triangle of pubic hair was left.

»C-can’t she just stay as she is?«, Babette asked shyly, pointing at the two other captives sitting in the shadow. Both Carmen’s neatly trimmed thatch of pubic hair and Inga’s landing strip had been left untouched. Cory scratched his chin, as if he had to consider that; then, he just shook his head with a grin.

»Nope! I want her soft and smooth!«

Dalanda had to sit down on the well’s rim, and the men grabbed her feet, forcing her legs widely apart. Since Babette’s ankle was still cuffed to Dalanda’s, it meant that she had to sit with her legs spread and one leg stretched, for this was the only position that didn’t affect her hands.

It became an ordeal for both girls. The razor was good for not cutting someone, but it wasn’t meant to shave off fully grown hair, and so, progress was slow. In addition, whenever Babette was not in touch with Dalanda’s skin, Cory tickled the Black’s sole or between her toes, causing her to mew and twitch, and she panted with fear he might do so when Babette was just between her legs with the razor. Marco tried to make things a little easier by gently caressing her other foot, but he did nothing to interrupt the show.

Finally, when Babette felt exhausted and Dalanda was too worn out to even feel embarrassed, it was done, and once Cory had done a close manual »inspection«, both girls were free to stagger towards the others. Here, they placed themselves as far away from each other as they could without having to sit with open legs, and they neither spoke nor looked at each other.

***

The Police Office of Sidi Ifni reminded Gabriela of something from a 1980ies B-movie, with flycatchers dangling from the wall, a creaking fan in vain trying to fight the heat, and a sweaty man with a moustache behind his shabby desk. There was even an open arrest cell in one corner, in it two young men who both wore bandages, one around his arm, whilst the other was lying on his bunk and had his leg bandaged. At least, it looked as if this had been done by someone who knew the basics about hygiene.

The man was more impressed by the 100 Dollars John offered him for his collaboration than by his back story; in fact, he was also interested in Gabriela’s cleavage, since John had persuaded her to open the first two buttons of her uniform blouse.

Conversation was a bit difficult; John was fluent in English, French and Spanish and also spoke some German, but he only knew a few phrases in Arabic, whilst the Policeman’s French was intermediate at best. Gabriela, who didn’t speak French, always needed John for a short summary, and more and more, they learned that the local Police had little to say in the matter.

They had found the abandoned yacht, and according to the men who had reported it, little had been stolen. There was no description of the thieves apart that from Stuyvesant, and when John carefully gave a description of Ben Keane, the Policeman just shook his head.

»We are undermanned! And right now, it seems that the crime rate is exploding! Just yesterday, we arrested these two«, he pointed at the men in the arrest cell, »trying to steal a car, and later that day, a man reported that he was stopped at gunpoint at the highway, and his car was stolen! What’s next? A new attack of the Polisario?«

Gabriela had looked at the two men when the Officer had started his complaints, and she noticed that they had both looked up when he mentioned the word »Polisario«. She knew that this was the organisation that fought for an independent Western Sahara and controlled the Free Zone. Currently, there was a ceasefire, but of course, the Moroccans would have preferred controlling the whole area, whilst the Polisario wanted independence for 100% of Western Sahara.

»Seems that somehow, everybody needs a car now!«, the Policeman concluded, leaving further conclusions to either John and Gabriela or to no one in particular. When John had translated his words, Gabriela pointed at the prisoners and asked:

»They look quite harmless to me! Did they really try to steal a car, or did they just try to grab something from the seat? Are these shot wounds?«

She knew that in this country, Police violence was seen differently than in Portugal, but she also knew that every Policeman tried to justify what he did, and she was sure that there was something with these two: they were linked to Western Sahara, the place Ben Keane was heading to, too.

The Officer gave a short report that told them the shots had been fired by the regular owners of the car, two foreigners who had decided not to stay for the process against the gangsters, as they had already been arrested. Intrigued, she asked for more details, and with an apologetic smile, she then asked John to follow her to the corridor for a short talk.

»These car owners seem to have come to town, just to buy two used cars – and they only fired these two shots! So, we have men who know how to shoot, and who need cars! Sounds like Ben’s mercenaries to me!«

John nodded, and they went back inside where Gabriela begged that she would be allowed to ask the prisoners a few questions. The Officer frowned, and John soothed his concerns with another 100 Dollars. Gabriela found out the elder of the two spoke Spanish, allowing her to ask directly. She described Ben’s men, remembering them quite well as she had been their prisoner for a while, and indeed, they seemed to be sure that two of them had been the defence-ready car owners.

»Why were you so desperate for a car? I mean, wouldn’t it have been easier to steal a parked car in the midst of the night instead of a shoot-out at a petrol station?«

The question triggered a short whispered conversation in Arabic, and then, the man grinned at Gabriela:

»If you want more information, you have to help us to get out of here!«

John had overheard the conversation, and he shook his head.

»We have to keep our heads low! We can’t risk freeing these two at gunpoint!«

Gabriela looked at the two prisoners. Something told her they could be helpful in one way or the other. So, she whispered:

»Ask the Officer if he accepts a bail! He seems quite cooperative when it comes to money!«

»And it isn’t yours after all!«, John mumbled, but he turned towards the desk. If these men were from Western Sahara, they could at least use them as guides and translators, and perhaps, they even wanted vengeance on Ben’s men.

The negotiations were surprisingly easy. The Policeman had not lied when he had told them they were undermanned, and for him, these two were just petty criminals. After all, they were the only ones who had gotten injured, their guns were confiscated and right now, they were only costing resources he didn’t have. So, for 1.000 Dollars each, he accepted that John would take custody of the two men, provided they left Sidi Ifni immediately.

»Doing business with you, I feel like my employer!«, he stated with a broad grin and shook the man’s hand. Indeed, bribing was a part of Davenport’s business. He handed him 500 Dollars, promising the rest for the next morning when he would fetch the two. After a little hesitation, he added another 100.

»You will understand that I can’t let you know all details of my business! However, I need these two as well and healthy as possible! So, when I return tomorrow at, let’s say, 9 o’clock, I expect them to be well fed and in fresh clothes! Also, a doctor shall see after their wounds!«

His smile changed a nuance, and it left John’s eyes. Now, he looked dangerous, and the Policeman shied away in his seat. Remaining his calm and polite voice, he added:

»This was an order! The last 100 are not for you!«

John turned towards the cell and looked at the two men. His Arabic was good enough to ask for their names, and they told him they were Ayoub and Ali. In Spanish, John said, now showing his cold, frightening smile:

»Well, Ayoub and Ali, I just paid two Grand for your asses, so you better keep them clean until we see again tomorrow!«

Switching to friendly in the fraction of a second, he added:

»Oh, and because he is so glad to get rid off you, the kind Officer offered to get you your favourite dish for dinner, so, all you have to do is just tell him what you want!«

Having said that, he and Gabriela left the Office, leaving behind three equally confused men, two inside the cell and one outside.

***

Neither Jeb nor Sato spoke French or Arabic, but nevertheless, they found a way of negotiating with the car salesman who barely spoke English. After all, numbers could be written down, and the fat that Jeb was 6’4’’ and muscular and looked like he could stuff someone into a car’s output sure helped the matter. Sato also had to grimly admit that the American knew more about cars than he did: he pointed at small rusty or oily spots, followed by a Suada in English, spiked with technical terms, and in the end, Jeb’s meaty index finger hammered on the sheet where he had noted a smaller sum than the one the salesman wanted.

The car was a military van that looked as if it had been left behind by Rommel’s Afrika Korps. However, it was the only off-road vehicle left, and at least, they could all find room in it. In addition, Jeb had confirmed him that both engine and gearbox seemed to be okay.

In the end, they got the car with a filled tank for 3.000 Dollars, and whilst Jeb carefully drove from the lot, Sato texted the girls that they had accomplished their mission. Only a minute later, he got an answer from Johanna:

»Hotel ›Alcalde‹, I will wait for you in the lobby!«

He wondered why the message was so short, but then, he remembered that the girls had to take care of Ana and perhaps had no time for prolonged typing. So, he just gave Jeb the address.

»Hai, Torranaga Sama!«, the American shouted, followed by a grin. Sato swallowed his reply, telling himself like a mantra that he could kill Jeb once the mission was over.

***

 »Discreet and modest my ass!«, Johanna giggled, though her cheeks were still aflame from the stunt she had just pulled.

They had decided that for one night, it would be better to choose a shabby looking hotel in the darker corners of Sidi Ifni, for at such a place, a little money could persuade the clerk not to ask about their non-existent passports. Shortly, they had considered sleeping in the car, but they all needed some sleep in a real bed and a shower.

The »Hotel Alcalde« had definitely seen better days, but the clerk indeed willingly sold Johanna the only two rooms left. Two rooms for a mixed group of seven, including one prisoner, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. So, Johanna had accepted and, after having deposited the keys on the desk, she feigned a slight fainting spell, sinking onto an upholstered stool and falling from it. Lying on her back, she had flailed her legs, so the clerk got more than a glimpse of her panties, and so, the man did not see Melissa who, her gun in her pocket piercing into Ana’s side, directed the bound and gagged woman through the lobby and towards their room.

Ana’s bonds were hidden under a long coat Johanna had bought at the supermarket, and a scarf tied over her mouth and nose and another tied over her head hid her gagged mouth. She still would have looked suspicious to anyone giving a closer look, but thanks to Johanna’s distraction manoeuvre and since Melissa only had to get her the few yards from the car to the room, it worked, and now, all three were in one of the rooms. They looked like what one could expect in such a hotel, but at least, there were two single beds and a bathroom. A noisy air conditioner did indeed lower the temperature for a few degrees.

»All right, since I paid for the room and just sacrificed my dignity, I am the first one to use the bathroom!«, Johanna decided and rushed into the room, closing and locking the door. Melissa chuckled and then turned towards Ana.

»Once this is over, you will have a lot to tell!«

Ana mmphed and stared daggers at her. Then, without warning, her knee hit Melissa’s stomach, and whilst the German laded on her back with a muffled grunt, Ana had already jumped towards the door and tried to open it with her foot.

***