Smeralda planted her hands on her hips and stared at him."I don't know who you think you are talking to, but I do believe you have lost what little bi... of sanity that you had, Marshall." Do it! His outrage was painted across his face and shook his voice."Don't take that tone with me. I am a grown woman. If I choose to go home there is nothing that you can do about it."His face turned even redder before he stalked over and jerked her into his arms then threw her up over his shoulder. Spinning he. I knew she would be searching for the flashlight. As if the situation was not bad enough, I could only imagine the humiliation of having her switch it on and witness what was taking place in the bath."Just sit still," I managed to mutter hoarsely, "...both of you, it will be over soon." I was trying to make it sound as though it was an ordeal; that it was something that we could suffer through, praying for it to pass as quickly as possible. The truth is though I didn't want it to pass. With. There was Marsha, a short brown-skinned girl, probably Hispanic or Middle Eastern; it was hard to tell. She was a voluptuous girl, all hips and breasts and curves. Her face was round like the rest of her body, round cheeks, round eyes and full lips. She had long dark brown hair flowing loosely around her shoulders. Marsha was wearing a red scoop-necked shirt that was stretched by her large boobs; he couldn't tell if she wore a bra on those tits. Her black skirt came halfway down her dark. ‘Bullshit!’, Shana yelled and told him to go to hell as she slammed the phone down in fury and drove all the way home, crying shamelessly. When she got to her apartment, she was so sad, angry and confused, she dropped her things on the couch and headed straight for the shower, in which she took a hasty shower and then dried off, then headed straight for her bed, in which she started to cry herself to sleep when she felt a hand touch her face and a man’s voice say, ‘It’s all right, Shana, I am.
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