We had breakfast as usual, chatting about the weather, plans for the summer, etc, a typical conversation between mother and son. But that was only on ...he surface. While I was watching her, sitting on the chair, getting up to fetch something from the fridge, crossing her legs or tucking them under the chair, her robe opening revealing the flimsy nightie she wore, my arousal kept growing until it reached the point where it actually hurt. However our little daily get together in the bathroom lay. But this? A personal admirer? Clarissa wasn’t naïve enough to not be aware that she was pretty, but she always played the part at school, being fairly conservative in her attire and mannerisms when around her students. Little did they know what she liked to wear under said conservative attire, or what she liked to write about when she got home some evenings. Or about where her mind sometimes wandered when she was idle. Luckily for her, school was almost never idle; sometimes too crazy indeed. Next door, plastic covered the new street-side entrance to his future home. He could make out the doorway and interior entrance vault through the sheeting.Across Main Street, the florist was arranging pumpkins on a display stand. The man stood to stretch his back. He spotted Scott and waved. Scott returned the wave and proceeded toward the corner of Twelfth Street. He could have walked through the park from the Black Horse lot, but he wanted to get a good look at the building's completed. Now, she could make herself do things which would have been inconceivable only a few weeks ago. Like kneeling as she was at that moment... her bottom thrust up to the limit, her thighs splayed wide... submitting to the paintbrush of this sadistic pervert who had a*****ed her from her yacht. Oh, how long ago that seemed! Kneeling there, both buttock cheeks burning painfully, Simone heard Quentin using the house phone. “Miss Zelda?” She heard him enquire (she was the chief Overseer at the ‘Maison.