Stephanie peeked her head into the office, already wearing her sweater and holding her purse. “Mr. Hansen, I am meeting some friends for choir pract...ce, so is it ok if I go ahead and leave?” ‘Choir practice’ – teacher code for happy hour at the local watering hole, which still amused Scott every time he heard it. God forbid any of the students realize that teachers had a life outside of the school. “Did you get the attendance report and no-show list done for the week?” “Yes sir, they are. Holding the box in her hands, Jenny knew all of these were from that broken relationship. Of course there was no question of her looking at any of the cards or letters. That would be too much of an invasion of Diane's privacy. The pictures, on the other hand, were something else. The envelope was already torn open and most of them were loose.It was a small ethical dilemma and Jenny was so curious about what Mr. Wrong looked like that her moral compass failed. It would take more will power that. " Dude ... I'm sorry," Jaron sighed.My strength gone, I pushed my nose into the floor. I felt slime oozing out of my nostrils, joining the puddle of tears rolling down my cheeks as I forced myself to face the truth. Dawn had already confessed all. She'd gone willingly with Jaron to his house, initiating things even. Even though I still wanted to believe that he'd somehow coerced her against her will, the evidence just wasn't there.This wasn't Jaron's fault.My Dawn had actually cheated on me.So. The black man looked at me in my eyes and he tendered his huge right hand: “I’m Byron, you are . . .?”. He introduced himself with a nice smile.“I’m Ana; my friends call me Anita.” I answered smiling as we shook hands. I felt a kind of spark when hands touched. He held onto my hand, holding it in both of his on the blanket on his lap. He leaned over to my ear and whispered:“Anita, can I ask you something?”I looked at him waiting for his question.“Anita, are you one of these BBC sluts I hear.