‘When I’m done with you, bitch, you can take me to your friends.’ He started to
unbuckle his belt.
Wess tried to get up. Bauchle Meyne’s companion stepped towards her, to kick her
again.
His foot swung towards her. She grabbed it and twisted. As he went down, Wess
struggled up. Bauchle Meyne, surprised, lurched towards her and grabbed her in a
bear hug, pinioning her arms so she could not reach her knife. He pressed his
face down close to hers. She felt his whisker stubble and smelled his yeasty
breath. He could not hold her and force his mouth to hers at the same time, but
he slobbered on her cheek. His pants slipped down and his penis thrust against
her thigh.
Wess kneed him in the balls as hard as she could.
He screamed and let her go and staggered away, holding himself, doubled up and
moaning, stumbling over his fallen breeches. Wess drew her knife and backed
against a wall, ready for another attack.
Bauchle Meyne’s accomplice rushed her. Her knife sliced quickly towards him,
slashing his arm. He flung himself backwards and swore violently. Blood spurted
between his fingers.
Wess heard the approaching footsteps a moment before he did. She pressed her
free hand hard against the wall behind her. She was afraid to shout for help. In
this place whoever answered might as easily join in attacking her.
But the man swore again, grabbed Bauchle Meyne by the arm, and dragged him away
as fast as the latter, in his present distressed state, could go.
Wess sagged, sliding down the wall to the ground. She knew she was still in