With her improvised chem-light going, she could at least pick her way through the coats with greater speed.  The hands, though...<br/><br/>Her bottom was pinched a few more times, but no answer was forthcoming.  Not even when one of them snagged her thong and inflicted another wedgie on her more or less by accident...or when another groped her breast as she squeezed between two great Inverness style coats make of skunk fur (judging by the stripes).<br/><br/>The loss of dignity did nothing to hold her movement back.  Soon she was stumbling out the other end into a tiny shop that seemed to specialize in third-hand clothing.  The proprietor, a rather toad-like old woman, gawped as she emerged, but said nothing as she hobbled out of Sunny's way.