I laughed. “I’m not blond.” “No?” “No, I have dark hair, are you even looking at me?” “It looks lighter in the yellow light,” he ...said, grinning. “Are you sure you don’t just want me to be blond?” I ask running my hand through my very brunette hair, which tumbled down in soft waves to just below my shoulders. “I have no preference,” he said, moving closer and raising his hand to my cheek again, this time to softly stroke it with his thumb. I took a half step forward, closing the gap between. Could I, could I see?”I smiled, and removed my sunglasses. I heard silence for almost a minute, then put them back on. “The last time she visited, it was much worse than it is now I am told. The swelling was still bad, and the scars were still red and I think one or two still seeping. And my eyes looked worse also I am told. But we were all young, and she probably could not handle it.”“That is no excuse Di, it was still wrong of me. I should have been a real friend, like Jean. Thank you for. And her boobs were constantly touching me. I was enjoying the ride. I started feeling something is fishy.The same night she was messaging me with more emojis. She started asking me personal stuff like a girlfriend and all. I was shy and didn’t answer anything. Next day, we were working together and she used to bump into me more often. And after everyone left, we were alone again.She started asking the same questions about my girlfriend. I told I have one and she asked me whether I was physical. David rubbed his fingers around my pussy on the other side of my panties. I could feel my pussy getting wet from him touching me. I put my hands around his arm as he kept rubbing me. Something about it was exciting me more than usual. Being in a public place where anybody could just look back. But would they really notice this? I thought. I wanted to tell David to put his fingers inside me, but I was afraid to in case somebody heard me and looked at us. But I didn’t have to say anything. He.