Donna had just adjusted her skimpy top for about the fifteenth time in as many minutes, which prompted to ask, "What's wrong, Donna? Got ants in your ...op or something?"Donna shielded her eyes to look over at me. "No, nothing's itching. I just keep moving the strings, so I don't get any tan lines on my shoulders." Why don't you just take the damned thing off and be done with it," remarked Janet, never taking her eyes from her work. "You are here among friends, you know." Yeah, sure," exclaimed. "Whoa fella's," I said breaking into their choir like tirade. "What'd you say bitch?!" The oldest, tallest, and ugliest of them snapped at me. His pock marked face surround by blond, and red dreadlocks would have been enchantingly laughable in normal society, but here it was just scary, and I guess that was their point."Look," and I reached out, and took his bulge in hand, and squeezed it, "we don't have to make a racial statement that turns us all into losers, now do we? If all you want is a. More

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