She was hurrying past the field on her way home when the man stepped out from behind a tree and stood spraddle-legged in her path. Ginny Lee was uncommonly pretty, a small girl with unusually long legs for someone her size, good legs with finely molded ankles; and her breasts above the rounded hips and very thin waist were large and full, not in a way that gave her a top-heavy look, but a proud, feminine look. Ginny Lee was happy about her looks except for one thing: she needed glasses. She stood there blinking and squinting, trying to recognize the man who stood there so menacingly. “Who are you?” she asked, suddenly frightened. He laughed, took her roughly, and threw her down.
