My shot at my fantasy man all comes down to this -- a message written on a cocktail napkin, "After the show, my place, breakfast?" I unfold the note ...nd order another drink. He has responded with two words: "I'll cook."I feel my nipples growing hard and the heat rising to my cheeks. It won't be long now, I think.I slide off my barstool and head for the ladies' room to freshen up before I meet him after the show. As I reach into my purse for my compact, I feel two muscular arms encircle my. At Grover High School, there is a sort of dress code for students, teacher, and attending parents alike. Any pants worn, whether it be leggings or jeans, must be pulled up as high as possible, tightly hugging the cheeks of the girl as a sort of constant humiliation, giving everyone else a view of their bottom. Skirts and dresses must be either skin-tight, or tucked into the panties of the girl as long as she's in the school.While humiliation is important in society, schools still try to. He is an Engineering student." Bobby Abbott? As in Robert Abbott? He wouldn't by any chance also be called Deuce would he?" Yes. Do you know him?" No, but I know of him. He wasn't born with a silver spoon in his mouth; his spoon was diamond and ruby encrusted platinum." What does that mean?" That your plan to get yourself a rich kid is right on track." Bobby? Bobby is rich?" I can tell that the idea sickens you." Oh my. My Bobby wealthy. I never would have believed it." Poor baby. You thought. I then filled her in on what I planned to do. I knew there was some risk to my plan, but I didn't believe that foster care or HRS was much of a solution. I also knew that it would most likely be emotionally devastating for Debbie to go through the trauma of a trial.Billy was the key to her problem. If he went away, then Debbie would most likely feel safe in her own home again. I knew that for Billy to have done what he did he would have had to have used Ecstasy or GHB or some combination of.