She spat out a string of four letter abuse words followed by American bitch you stood at the bar at the base camp outside Stockholm sipping a beer Moira stood beside you in grumpy mood her Glaswegian tones still in the air others in the bar gazed your way amused some giving a small titter if have to share a tent with her one more night I’ll suffocate her with my sleeping bag over her head she said you girls don’t get on then? you said more expletives followed after which she sipped

from her glass of white wine you lit a cigarette all the time watching her listening to her talking about the American girl the tour guide and driver had picked up in Hamburg how she spent ages in the shower at base camps across northern Europe how she got her man whom she slept with and what she did and leather said Moira her and her damned leather I know her sort she added you studied her as she spoke her short stature her wild blazing eyes her hair tight curled her small tits pressing against her tee shirt

then she was silent and leaned on the bar sipping the wine grimacing staring at the mirror behind the bar maybe we could swap tents you said you share with the Australian bore and I with the Yank girl that’s a case from the frying pan into he fire Moira said gruffly I’d rather share my tent with a shaggy dog with fleas she said I guess you thought taking in her tight ass some are hard to please.

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