It was 12:33 on a Saturday morning. The rap song, Dial M for Murder, sang in Ja Rule’s gravely voice was pounded into my ears by 250 watts of pure p...wer. Usually I don’t listen to rap, I like Jazz and oldies. Every now and then a bit of good old fashion country. Tonight was different, it had to be rap. Tonight I could meet my death, tonight I was running. Eight weeks hand gone by since I had made that fate full phone call from my Grand mother’s pool. Not the smartest thing I had ever done, but. . I mean, Sir, you can't be serious about not enjoying punishing me. That's a crock and you know it, and you know that I know it! I'm the head cheerleader and the queen of our school ... and you want me to believe that you, a former lowly nerd, don't get off on taking me down a peg or two? PUH-LEEZE! Making me crawl around on hands and knees totally naked and begging for your cock doesn't get you off?"Her thoughts drifted off, as she pictured herself crawling and begging before him. God, that's. More

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