But Mr Edmunds was already unbuttoning her dress from the top down, and she watched as her white lace bra sprung from the confines of her unflattering...uniform. She looked away as the buttons sprung open all the way down her flat stomach before revealing her small bush, spread wide and inviting over his lap. She never liked the bald look, so she left a very small triangle of hair on her mound, pointing towards her slit.She cringed as Mr Edmunds looked at her and smirked. "All for me?" he. "I scooted back. I worked my way down her back to the elastic waistband of her shorts. They were high-waisted and I was still a few inches from where she'd asked me go, so I moved my hands down and rubbed the spot through the fabric, working my way out to her hips and then back toward her spine. Then, just for the hell of it, I went back up to bare skin and slipped just my thumbs under the waistband.She lifted her hips, as she had done with her bra. I grasped her shorts and pulled them down. She substituted her hand for her hair, stroking him with featherlike touches. Mark never moved but continued to moan. Finally she could bear it no longer and kissed him softly between the shoulder blades then moved up onto his shoulders as her breasts pressed gently against his back. She gloried in the taste, smell and smoothness of his skin.It was becoming too much for Mark. He rolled away from her pushing her off."Serena, my sweet, no more or I shan't be able to control myself," he. The figures were about eight inches in height, crudely moulded and almost featureless. They knelt upon a rough, but level iron base that was about an inch in depth. Though simple, the artefact had a genuine quality to it that made it a nice little piece. Cassie sighed softly as she looked at the artefact, not in frustration, but in sorrow. The friend who had handed the sculpture over to Cassie, a wild-hearted archaeologist named Clara Roft, had been missing for several weeks. She had been.