." She blushed again, and I felt myself grow more aroused."That's not it at all, I think you're gorgeous!" I realized my words about two seconds after...I had already spoken, and now it was my turn to blush.She lifted her head, "You think so? Really?" I nodded meekly, and she just blushed again, afterwards looking up at me and beaming. She bit her lip. "You're not so bad yourself" A dirty smile came across her face, and I could feel the same smile growing on me. I was now fully hard, what with my. She told me that there were maybe 30 people there in the end, all adults and all enjoying music, conversation and drinks. She was playing the part of the hostess and was making sure everyone was being looked after and drinks were topped up etc. As part of a group of new neighbors that had come along, there was a couple (both in their 30’s) who lived just a few houses down the road. She told me that the guy was quite good looking and when she found out he was a part time fireman she said her. We were there in September, the beginning of summer.One of the more saddening stories of the quake was the near total destruction of the small ship yard and the deaths of its principal investors and staff. There was a nearly completed steel hulled schooner, launched but still fitting out when the quake struck.It was sitting in the mud of the Ahuriri Estuary tidal basin and had been written off as a total loss by the insurers. The looters hadn’t gotten around to scavenging it yet.I approached. Hatred and fear, her thinking continued, fear and hatred. Are they so different, I wonder. Or are they merely different manifestations of the same thing? Is hatred spawned by fear, or fear by hatred? Or do they arise simultaneously and feed off each other? Am I simply asking which came first, the chicken or the egg?And how is it that either of those destructive emotions comes into being at all? What's the starting point, the kickoff? How does a brave, honorable and evidently compassionate man.
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