It was silver and the sun reflected bright sparkles that hurt her eyes. To Mary, she thought it was about to land in her garden and she thought of fleeing until common sense told her there was no point running.Then it was heading for the river. The sound increased in volume until it filled every crevice, every space inside her head, a vicious, evil snarling. As it skimmed past low over the water, she could plainly see the red star on the swept back tail fin."Russian!" she squealed in delight. "The Russians!" She bounced in joy, and ran back to her cottage for her hat and coat."There!" Mischa pointed. "That is where the Queen lives - Buckingham Palace. She is related to the Tsar, you know. And there, that is Big Ben and Tower Bridge over there." That is a big place for one person to live," Svetlana said. "What does she do all day?" Oh, order the servants about, sit on a big throne, have her hair done, take tea with dukes and lords - who knows? We could make you Queen of England," he. It was quite a change from the men on the bus or the train that would grab her soft undefended flesh with naughty fingers without a single word and with the slyness of a fox stealing eggs. She felt so degraded by them but in retrospect she was happy to receive their nastiness because she was so young and inexperienced that her disrespected flesh was better suited to their insolence than the finely dressed office ladies or even the motherly housewives with their drooping cheeks. In a way, she felt like she was helping them avoid the embarrassment of poor treatment in a public place by taking the unwanted attentions away from the more venerable women.Lately, she had been pestered by a fairly attractive married man with a constantly agitated huge erection that he liked to rub vigorously between her youthful ass cheeks in a way that made her blush with the sheer dismay of the extent of her guilty joy to be used in such a manner by a respectable older man. She felt shamed by her.
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