“Don, maybe we should go inside the house,” I suggested. He nodded and stood up, pulling me into a standing position with him. My bikini bra hung...loosely around my neck, my tits still exposed. Don kissed me again, and teased my saliva-coated nipple with his fingers . “Lisa, you are a very pretty girl... very pretty,” he said, holding me at arm’s length. With my bikini top still hanging loosely around my neck Don leaned forward to kiss each of my nipples again. “Very pretty, indeed.” He then. ‘Something of a Casanova, are you?’ He asked. His voice was high-pitched with an obscene wheedling quality to it. I didn’t like him, or trust him one little bit. ‘Who are you?’ He chuckled, ‘Call me Tiny,’ he said, as if it were the funniest of jokes, like maybe you’d call a big fat guy Tiny for a nickname. ‘Who are you, Tiny?’ I said, trying to put scorn into my voice. The music, the mindless monotonous drumbeat of the dance music seemed to somehow work its way under us, like an underline, as. More

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