hamton and fifi

Mrs. B. was a great teacher for 10th grade English. Funny, engaging, personable—and a bit flirty. She was in her late-20s, just a couple years out of The University of Michigan, cute, nice body and flaming red hair that cascaded over her shoulders and down her back. She knew the boys all lusted after her and she did nothing to discourage our interest. Students even gave her a nickname, “Bubbles.” The administration was not pleased, but Mrs. B. didn’t seem to mind. She liked the attention. Oh, and I think that we actually learned a lot of English Lit between the horsing around.

That Saturday passed like a blur as Sarah did her social duties with her friends, but in the back of her mind her guilt was steadily building. What she had done last night was not okay. But it was a moment of weakness, a mistake of her youth, so with one and done there wouldn’t be a problem, right? Her night’s rest seemed to disagree. Six times she woke that night, each time with the desire to visit her father again, but she managed to persevere. She had to watch her video from last night a few times before her lust could be controlled, but she got through the night, minus quite a few hours of sleep as a cost.

These dark stars made her shudder in fear, for while she looked at them, she could sense them looking right back at her, weighing down on her soul with their insidious will. There were no thoughts, no feelings, but what she felt was unquestionably evil. The magic circle around her feet shattered like glass, and Valia dropped to one knee while clutching her head and hissing in pain.