The room was lit only by his desk lamp and the nearby street lights of Tulsa. A light mist hung outside in the night air. C’mon, he thought, whoeve... wrote this, please let it be the last page. His policy when grading essays by his students at Marland University was to fold back the cover page, so that he did not know the name of the writer and could be completely objective as he read the essay. Like all teachers, Joel felt a natural fondness for some of his students. Others irritated the hell. I think lazily. His fingers rest on the curve of my ass, massaging tiny circles. “Its okay Daddy. At least I have you.” I say, mesmerized by the pleasure radiating from his fingertips. “Would you like a massage, honey?” he asks, gently pulling me over to the couch, not losing touch with my body. “That would be grand, Daddy!” I exclaim, and hurriedly lay down on my stomach, waiting for his hands to work their magic. He taps my shoulder. “No, no, sweetheart, not just a back massage. I want to. More

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