It looked like he was too disgusted with me to even acknowledge my choice. I checked the transfer slip to make sure it was for the class I wanted.Lati... was Latin. We were working on translating passages of Cicero’s Paradoxa Stoicorum as an exercise. Miss Lustig—yes, the same old librarian who had been my proctor when I first got back to school—taught Latin. There were fewer of us in the second-year class than there had been in first year. I’d heard a rumor that there was no first-year class. “Because there will be a next time?”“Naturally.”I authorise him to rise and leave. His facial cheeks are crimson, as well. As he attains the door, he flicks one last glance into my direction. His next visit to my office will be determinant, but he’s clearly willing. I wish I could capitalise this giddy arousal, but I can’t spend all my time with my vibrator.Another two weeks pass. My devoted pet taunts me both in and out of class. She often flashes her waxed labia under her desk and makes up. More

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