He stares at me. Stockings. Panties.Bra. And all the creamy soft curves in between. I bend my knee, just afraction, lift my heel, force my thighs toge...her."Fucking hell," I hear a voice from the stalls."I saw you looking," I say, coyly, my gaze drifting down to his shorts."The other day, when I was getting dressed. You were watching me,weren't you Pete?" I don't know," he says, looking away. Blushing. Looking back."You can look," I say, biting my lip, following his lead. "I ... likethat you. He weathered the storm of derision about stinking like a Turkishbrothel. When they arrived, they were given a pre-set lunch of prawnsalad followed by French fancy cakes. There was a lot of ribbing aboutwho had chosen the food, it was not the steak and chips that Alan hadimagined might be on the list. "That's what comes when you trust a womanto organise things" he said as they picked over the lettuce leaves.But they were all keen to get out on the track, and see what wasavailable to drive. The. More

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