Her tweed micro skirt sealed in her obedience. Vibrant stitched lines drew eyes to her figure. None would guess innocent white cotton panties hid bene...th. In Miss Roberts' lounge, she perched on a straight-backed chair in her micro skirt; her legs in a duchess slant, knees and ankles together, heels, in her tall black Aquazzura boots, firm on the polished wood floor. Her familiar confessional unburdened her guilt, delivering therapy with meaning.“Your skirt is marvelous, Clare. I'm enjoying. . d. . . don’t you leave me now, Billy Cramer, or you ain’t my best buddy no more.’ ‘Well what’re we gonna do?’ ‘Like I said, we gotta go get us some matches and light the candle again, then maybe say a prayer er sumthin’, then get the heck outta here.’ ‘All right, let’s go.’ The two boys back up slowly, stopping to genuflect , easing out thru the curtain, then running headlong. Mark looks around, finds a large rock, and props the door open a crack, guaranteeing their reentry. Mark’s bike,. More

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