Then he realised that he too was just wearing a shirt. Shrugging that off, he took a match from its tin and handed it to her."Than cue," she said, smi...ing at him. She seemed to be getting the hang of English quite well. Sadly, he hadn't heard her speak enough of her language to pick that up."You're very welcome," he said, smiling back at her, and he went off to check out the horses. They all seemed fine, and two by two he took them down to the stream to drink and then left them to forage for. “So this is our field urinal this year?” He asks, looking down at me from a great height.“Yeah, she’s not much to look at, but I bet you’ll like what she has under her shirt.”“Oh, yeah? Let’s see them.”Not much to look at? I’ve never been self-conscious about my looks before. If this is a psychological game to make me seek validation from my breasts... it worked. I’m proud instead of embarrassed when the quarterback lifts my shirt and nods his approval along with his forty-or-so. More

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