Skipping the shower, as discretely as I could—didn't want the other guys to notice, or catch on. Then jet home as quickly as I could. It was like a ...ace going down the stairs to the basement, pulling my kicks off, and huffing on them like a d**ggy huffing glue. I would take deep whiffs, inhaling my own foot funk. It got better throughout the year as the sneaks got more and more dirty, and thus more and more stink. My jeans would come off quickly—then flat on my back with dick in hand. Pulling. Take control of your life, Denise. Set yourself a goal and reach for it. It doesn't have to be a permanent thing; you can decide to concentrate on professional life for the moment if you want."But you mustn't go around being angry with Stan or Anne for finding each other. As I told my daughter Kelly a while back, you are responsible for your own life. Don't expect others to make you happy if you're not even trying for yourself. Even if things go wrong, feeling sorry won't help you, doing. Not surprisingly, the poor girl was the only one still sobbing when we held our caned palms under the cold toilet taps to try to relieve the stinging. Susan said she'd never imagined being caned and was distraught by the thought her parents might find out. She sobbed uncontrollably as she looked at her striped hands. I felt so sorry for her. I hugged her and said she wouldn't be called the class goody-two-shoes anymore.I could not believe that Susan had never told David about her caning as we. As soon as breakfast was over, Miss Catherine got her outdoor clothes ready, and I prepared the car for the short trip to the rail station. We got there in plenty of time for the train schedule, and we were in London with time to spare. I guided Miss Catherine – sorry, I guided Catherine on a route that passed a couple of interesting historical buildings, so she had something to gawk at as we walked.I kept my eyes open for questionable characters as we ambled along like tourists. No-one.