This was the white haired man that i often saw sitting on the porch with Herb. The only thing, at that point, that i knew about myself was, that i fel... shame because i liked to look at my friends mother's and, if i could, i would sneak into their hamper or laundry or drawers to touch the feminine undergarments. I did experience some type of arousal when i touched the panties, slips, bras,etc... I had also been caught, by mom, using her razor on my legs. I didn't even have hair, i just knew that. Like Windex.” “Good. I’ll meet you tomorrow in the lobby of the library at 11 a.m. Don’t be late.” “Umm … how will I recognize you?”“Don’t worry about that. I’ll recognize you … oh, and Robert?” “Yes?” “I cannot emphasize this enough: I will not tolerate tardiness.” “Yes ma’am.” Yes, ma’am, indeed – bitch. *** At 11 a.m. sharp, I walked into the library. There were a few other students there – some like me who were there because they had to be and a few Poindexters who were clearly there. "So, Finch," Georges started, "how are you liking this place?" It's cool. I wish I could live her forever. So much better than running all the time."Georges nodded, "good. Lauren?"She shrugged, "guess it's alright." Finch knew that she was understating how much she was enjoying it, but he'd long ago learned to expect that from her. "Yeah, definitely better than running."The four had closed into a small circle, arms and legs occasionally touching. Finch was across from Georges, Lauren on his. " Mom," I gasped. The giggles went away."Jarred, Franka isn't the only one who can read you. You like this girl, actually you more than like her. You went to bat for her against your teacher, even risking eviction. You promised her to make love to her, despite the inevitable uneasiness that comes from her body not matching her real age, and besides, whenever you talk about her, you grin like an idiot and I wonder if I need to buy a Hilti hammer to chisel the smile off your face. You badly fell.