A fresh scent came off of her that didn’t smell like perfume. ‘Please remove your jacket and shoes. I need to weigh you,’ she requested. ‘Two ...undred and ten pounds,’ I said. ‘Wanta bet?’ I threw in, trying – as usual – to be disarming. ‘Wagering is against the rules,’ Karina said light-heartedly, as she moved the weights on the bar, the heat of her arm warming my chest. ‘Hmm, 212. Must be something heavy in your pants!’ she said, glancing up at me with glinting, yet non-committal, almond. Miss Beattie looked up. “Oh it’s you, Happy Birthday,” she partly opened a drawer, and then closed it again. As she did, she said, “Its Sandra isn’t it? You won’t need the safety pack then. Go on in, she is waiting for you.” Sandra was evidently a regular, obviously she knew already Sandra didn’t need condoms. Nothing more was said. The big table seated twenty or more people for meetings etc. It was also well known amongst the senior students as the sacrificial table. If you can believe what. More

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