"Tornado?" she gasped, flying down the stairs at her brother's heels.Rich yanked a couple of blankets off a box of junk and pulled Teri into the small...storm shelter his father had built after the last major series of storms. The walls were stone set into cement, one small window that was reinforced set up high against the ceiling. There was a mattress set on the floor, a radio and flashlight in a corner as well as a box of bottled water and some food.He turned, letting go of Teri's wrist and. "I don't feel very well."Not Saturday night at the party, but six years earlier, Margaret had felt impelled, excited, scared, unspeakably high. John Boehler and she had French kissed, and he had squeezed her breasts through her dress. He'd unbuttoned the dress, pulled her bra up, and licked a nipple. I was out of my mind. He'd worked the dress down to her waist and up from her legs, petting her, kissing her, removing the bra entirely, pulling off her panties and fingering her like her. More

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