”“No,” he agreed, “Would you like to go?”“Not really, I have a full schedule for this evening,” she said.“I have some spare tickets,�... he said hopefully.“No way,” Sinders replied, “I know what you’re after.”“Just straight, one freebie, one little poke for a ticket?” he suggested.“All right,” she replied, “Drop your Lederhosen you’ve wasted ten minutes wittering.”And so the die was cast.“Madame,” Sinders said five minutes later after the fat bald etc bloke came in his lederhosen, “I have a ticket. The thunder of my pulse drowns out other sounds as her soft, warm hand rests on my shoulder. I cannot breathe as her silky hair brushes my cheek. She smells... clean. Clean and fresh, with just a hint of lavender and something else... "Very good, Justine!" I can barely hear her whispered compliment over the pounding of my pulse!I sigh with relief and longing as she drifts away, murmuring encouragement to other students as she passes.Why, oh why did I take THIS art class! Even as the thought. More

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