I looked like I was going for an interview at Bloomingdales rather than a disciplinary with the Principal. I had chosen my tactics and I had to play t... my strengths. I resolved to be contrite and yet outrageously sexy. I knocked on the door and waited. There was a bit of a pause and then a single, deep, “Come in.” Mr LeMay was seated at his desk. It was a luxurious piece of furniture; macassar veneer and a proper Edwardian ink well and one of those Newton’s cradle things. The Principal was a. She gathered her breasts into her hands. She was dizzy, delirious, and felt her arousal as a hot seeping of moisture. "Hey, sailor," Heidi said. She couldn't keep a giggle from escaping. "Remember these?" She waggled her breasts up and down. Peter didn't stir, and she remembered how deeply he slept. But then there was movement. It came from the other side of Peter, from the hank of black hair spilling from under the covers. Slowly the hair turned. "Wha?" came the half-articulated question. Then. More

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