"Who are you?" she said, after clearing her throat a couple of times and spitting.I told her I was an American soldier, a Continental."These were beas...s, animals," she said, gesturing at the bodies. "They killed John for no reason and let that boy, that bastard, have at me for sport." He won't hurt anybody else," I said as I helped her to her feet and handed her the coat of the man she had killed. She struggled into it, covering a fine pair of breasts pushed up by her tightly laced whalebone. Michael was 17 and an extremely confident, loud and hilarious drama student who every one knew, loved and aspired to. Girls wanted to be with him and guys wanted to be him. He wasn’t traditionally good looking but he had this serious inner sexiness that I could never quite put my finger on. He had light brown wild hair that would stick out at random angles, which he would always subconsciously mess up even more with his hand. He was quite tall and thin, yet proportioned and toned. I had never. More

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