The men kept coming. One sounded through his mask like he waschuckling. The other reached out with his free hand, ready to grab herwhen they were close enough.Her eyes darted about. No one seemed to be watching. "I think that'senough." She whispered the words of the spell that she had beenprepping for some twenty minutes... just in case. What seemed like abit of mist, smoke from a firepot or a strand of the tear gas, driftedout and around the men.They stopped, immobilized for just a moment. Then the taller man beganto twitch. "What the hell? All of a sudden, I itch... itch all over."They both dropped their rifles and began to scratch at the sleeves oftheir shirts. In a frenzy, they pulled off their gloves and archedtheir fingers to scratch better. Neither noticed that his hands weregetting smaller, more supple; his fingernails growing longer, turningred; and that his skin was darkening from pale white to the color ofcoffee with cream.Their fingers, now delicately manicured,. She had blue eyes and long blonde hair. Guys at school bothered her all day. It worried her that sometime soon, a boy would get her alone at a party, get his hands on her bare breasts, maybe get a blowjob from her-her first-and slip a hand down her panties for a good finger slicking. She hated that term, and the idea, wincing at the thought. Boys were such pigs.Now, if Eric Conlon lived across the street, she thought. She laughed, enjoying that idea a lot. Eric Conlon could eye her through binoculars any day of the week.Eric was the hottest guy in school, captain of the football time, quarterback, star softball pitcher and a forward on the ice hockey squad. He was so buff; he lifted weights every day in the school gym. She loved his car, a banana yellow Camaro with black racing stripes, just like in the movies. And the way it sounded? Oh, my God, she loved the deep-throated rumble of its masculine, V8 engine. She wouldn't mind losing her carefully defended virginity to Eric Conlon,.
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