We went to Miss McMillan to plead for her to find a way to us not lose that vacation, but she was adamant on that matter.“Please, Miss McMillan. You...know how much we pay attention to your classes. You know this ‘D’ was an accident. Please, let us be on the junior year, please?”“Natalie, you know I can’t. The rules of the school are clear on that. I cannot make your grades better by ‘pen action’. And you know that you and Allan had that grade by your own ‘merit’, Miss Clawdeen”“But, Miss. I felt so wanton but it was kind of funny. The plan was simple and George's tweeds were beginning to bulge.Barb leaned forward, wedging her leather clad tits between the front seats. "Didn't Blake do some paintings as well as writing?" she asked, disingenuously. Barb was an art major. She knew damn well what she was talking about."Yes!" George almost yelled it. We had "played into his hands", or so he thought. "In fact, I have most of his prints -- well, not the originals, of course, but fine. More

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