.. The left cheek of her buttocks was now various shades of red, and I wondered if I had discovered a new style of art? Imagine having freshly slapped...women's arses on display at the Tate Modern? The punters would flock in to see such 'art'.I made a mental note to give Damien Hirst a bell( telephone call), I'm sure he would be up for it.Meantime Pippa had realised the script had changed and tried to get up.I held her down and landed another stinging smack on her right cheek, not quite so hard. The kind of kiss that artists spend years trying to capture on their pages, their canvas, or their marble. The kind of kiss that makes a good girl want to do bad things. The kind of kiss that makes a girl wet. I felt it hot on my lips. I felt it in every fiber of my being. I felt it leaving white-hot trails through my body, tracing the pathways of my blood supply. I felt it heat my extremities and curl my toes. Slowly, you lowered me to the ground. I could feel my body rubbing against yours.. She'd kicked off her sandals and her toes were stroking against the outside of my leg. I moved my leg against hers and smiled at her. My legs were slightly apart now, and I deliberately edged my chair a bit closer to make it easier for her. She slid her leg over mine until it was between my legs, stroking against my inner thigh."I really can't hold my liquor, Mr. Washburn," she said, her eyes sparkling even more if that was possible.I saw a quizzical expression cross her sister's face, but it. It was Friday, and I stewed the wholeweekend. I was totally at a loss to know what to do. But, Monday, I wason my way to my second class of the day when Allison's name was pagedto go to the office.I was shocked to find Allison's mom there, and she told me there was abreak in the case against my attacker, a new witness had come forwardand was going to testify that afternoon. We went to the courthouse, andI listened with pride as the boy, whose name was Tim, told his story.The defence moved to.
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