" I cleaned up my room last night. I want to dump this trash before Ileave for school. I'll just be a minute." I skipped out the door,closing it befor... my mother could ask more questions.We kept the trashcans on a little wooden platform my dad built to keepthem off the ground and rusting. I marched over to where the two canswaited. Lifting their lids I found the one least full. "I'm done withthis," I said. chucking in the bag of clothes. Barnes House was justvisible from where I stood. I turned. He must have been waiting for me. I stepped inside, set my backpack down and took off my sandals. John was a very tan, smiling bald man about my height, 5'10 and 160ish pounds. His eyes were big, always seemed to be wide open, and his smile would have been a tad creepy if I hadn’t seen pictures of him and been prepared for it. He was lean, but fit, his age showed, but only slightly. He was wearing khakis shorts and a white polo shirt. I was pretty similar in build, though lighter at 140. She certainly had no objections to her discipline-minded spouse from dipping his hard dong in the royal ladies chocolate pudding, but she had some reservations about her beautiful Emma’s noticeable liking for rug munching duties with ladies of leisure hairy landing strips and her promiscuous attitude toward her same sex in general terms notwithstanding.Of course, she was heavily involved with the bastard son of a Duke suffering the physical demands of his unusually oversized shaft that had been. Sister Saint Augustine was standing in front of her, her face up close. Her expression was neither kind nor angry — just blank, clinical. The lack of emotion frightened Kristen more than the fact that she couldn’t move.“How are you feeling, dear?” Sister asked.She tried to say all, right, but it came out muffled. Something round and hard filled her mouth. She couldn’t close her teeth.“What was that?”“What’s going on?” Kristen asked, but it came out, “Uh-ss oh-ee uh?”“Sorry, but we must take.