. no...” He stopped for a second and looked at me hard. “You’re the fellow who rescued that singer over in Iraq! I remember that was on the news... It was a local boy. That’s you, right?”Oh, shit! I should have known that no good deed goes unpunished. “That was a long time ago, Mister Waterhouse.”He ignored that. “Not that long ago. What was her name again? She wrote that song about you boys, too.”I took a deep drink of my beer. “Tolley Hunter. Nice lady. She did a nice concert for us, and I. As the daughter of one of the town's prominent businessmen, she was used to being treated with a certain respect.She looked around for people from her group. What few there were in the bar where equally besieged. She tried to head for one of them. The crush of Africans was thick. She could feel them pressing against her. Hands seemed everywhere. She tried to avoid them but whenever she turned hands seemed to accidentally touch, or not so accidentally touch.To brush her bottom, her waist, her. More

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