I would miss him and we exchanged home phone numbers and promised to keep in touch. He had given me some real good advice on a couple of personal questions over the last year and I was thankful for his acquaintance. Last period found me sitting in Ms. Stone’s domain and I wondered what kind of game she had started us to playing with her phone call last night. She was her usual gorgeous self and exuded an aura of unabashed sexual tension. She wore a bright red skirt and jacket, buttoned in the front, over an obviously very sheer cobalt blue blouse. Her seamed stockings and shoes were of the same shade of red, as were her nails and lips. She wore a large golden butterfly broach, with little blue jewels on the tips of the antennae. Her earrings were long, gold, and had blue stones set in the pendants, which dangled just above her collar. She chatted with each of us and wished us all the very best in the future. She walked up and down the rows of desks as we talked and each time she. He looked at his daughter who refused to look back at him and knew that it was all true. Hell, there was probably even more to it; much more to it. He had thanked the officer and then closed the door.Kelly took a step toward the stairway up to her bedroom and waited. Stan turned and looked at her. The knees on her jeans were wet and dirty. Her hair was a mess. Her eyes were red and she had wiped most of her makeup off of her face. The officer had not said anything about charges. He doubted that they had even taken her downtown. They did not think of her as a slut. They did not see her breasts the way he had over the last year as she bounced around the house and out at the pool. They did not see her browser history, read her chats that she had with older men. She may have told the police it was a mistake or that it was her first time there. It was not her first. He knew it was at least her fifth time of going with at least two other girls to the park to play, "Whore Corps". That's.
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