She hung the skirt over her chair. I had always assumed that Miss Ferguson wore tights. Not so! Black hold up stockings with darker lace tops complime...ted frilly black French knickers. She slid these down, daintily stepped out of them and folded them neatly onto her desk.I hadn’t realised how attractive she was. Her black clad legs were beautifully shaped and her high heels emphasised her taught calves. Her pubic hair was short, trimmed and clearly cared for with some care.“Stick your head into. “It’s time to wake up now, Paul.”I woke with jolt and sat upright. I’d thrown the covers off and they lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. I was covered in sweat. The t-shirt and boxers I’d slept in stuck to me and I was breathing heavily.This couldn’t go on. I had to do something about it.But what?Wasn’t it obvious? She’d told me. Chloe had told me. Hell, Emily had taken me there and very nearly forced me to do it.But this was something I had to do alone. Well, as alone as I could be with her. More

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