Her left hand glided down my blouse. Her hand cupped my breast, thumb making slow circles. I gasped and pressed myself against the wall.“Please…do...’t…”She squeezed and I let out a moan. Desperation, so scared. I slowly looked up into her face, those liquid eyes, soft, long blonde hair…I shuddered and licked my lips.She said my name softly, “Suzy…”Trembling at her voice I whimpered, “No..please..let me go…”Her hand left my breast and rested on the back of my neck, making my tiny fists clench in. We stepped into the steam room naked, as Europeans do. It was empty, and we laid our towels side by side on a wooden bench. Donna is almost my height, blonde, with breasts like firm cantaloupes, a flat stomach from daily workouts, and a carefully cropped pussy. She sat on the bench next to me, and we both inhaled the mentholated steam and welcomed the penetrating heat.After a few minutes, the door opened and a young woman with red hair stepped into the steam room. We greeted one another in. Charlotte felt humiliated, used, spent and so ashamed. It was 2:15 AM. She showered and tried to clean off the lip stick, she could hardly get it all off. She was a mess. She looked at her phone and saw 15 missed calls from my, her husband. She was crying, wondering how she could explain the time away.She dressed and departed, a broken and sore woman. She would drive to the pharmacy, get morning after pills, clean her self more, try to cover sex smells she tried to wash off with more. I wanted to be a graphic artist or something, I wasn't really sure, but I liked art and I was kind of good at it anyway. So those were the kind of classes I took while I worked part-time at Sears, dressing mannequins and putting up decorations and displays, stuff like that.It wasn't a bad job, even if it only paid for my rent and just enough food to keep me from starving. My parents sent me a little every month and I'd be okay, except I was lonely. I mean, it was a new town and I didn't really.
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