Four hour practice? Seriously? I have classes to study for, shit to do. Anyways.I put my instrument in my locker and gather my stuff. As I step out of...the locker room, I can't help but look at all the girls. Again. If you are in a marching band, you can understand why. Those band girls looove going barefoot. After practice? Barefoot. Before practice? No shoes. During practice? Sometimes. Girls laying on their stomachs, legs in the air, feet kicking, those toes just asking to be sucked. That's. Bright green trees gently swayed back and forth in the light breeze as she made her way down the road. Although she was still technically in London, it was the kind of suburban street she couldn't even dream of being able to live in, far away from the chain stores.She was glad it was finally the weekend. For just over forty-eight hours she was Jane again, a free woman, not employee number two hundred and fifty-six, a nameless whore behind bars.She looked at all the door numbers as she walked. More

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