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As like all the other times she spent a minute at least inhaling the scent of his crotch, but holding off on the usual tongue bath, she instead continued her climb. Her slim stomach and breasts slid along her father’s muscular and hairy chest until she was lying almost directly over him. He puffed away noisily under the tubes of his CPAP machine none the wiser, a frustrating device that prevented her from exploring his mouth as well.

If you want my judgment, here it is: let your guilt be your penance. Bear it, suffer under it, burn in it. Work even harder now, so that you can help more people than Bella hurt. That is how you pay for your sins, by making a difference, not by sitting in a dungeon. Sophia Rosege, I hereby sentence you to a lifetime of hard labor, bringing mankind into the next age. That is the punishment I bestow upon you. Just make sure you don’t neglect Alexis or anyone else.”

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.