She felt like such a “sleeve”’ This was her term for a girl used by men as a “cum dump.”‘I’m a dirty cock sleeve. I’m a dirty cock sle...ve,’ she said out loud to excite herself.She imagined the boy’s mates crowded around her, laughing and making nasty comments. This intensified her orgasm. She pictured them taunting and mocking her as they watched her slutty performance. This added nitro to the fire raging in her mind.Then a week after her appointment with Dr. Harwood, she got a call from him. He seemed to trapeze from one paradox of activity to another, skipping over the pause of stillness. He stopped the rusticity of his movements, trying to focus on a sound coming from the house closest to his. It was poetry and seduction and light and peace and every other contradiction to his world. At the first slow stroke, the crescendo seeped through his thoughts like warm hot chocolate velour over a coconut ice-cream. The violin beckoning gently as it unwound, rising and tensing. It. She finds her mother in that transparent dress and yoga pants.She can’t help herself but notice how hot her mother looks even at that age. She stares at her areolas and her boobs jiggling as she was stirring the food.“Looking for something, Yashika beta?”Startled from the sudden question, she picks up the water bottle from the fridge and smiles at her mother, “Just came to drink water, mom.”“Go sit in the dining hall for lunch.”Yashika sits on the dining table and stares at her mother’s shirt. Coach took me out through the class halls away from the gym accompanied by one of the troopers and told me I was through for the day and should go home. Mom and Dad were waiting for me and looked daggers at Coach. Whitney was waiting with them and kept assuring them I was okay. It appeared that she'd missed a bruise on my left cheek. Oh yeah. Now I remembered that elbow.It seems the refs had taken the photos straight to the visitor's locker room and started in on the coaches. The scorekeeper.