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Styles," I said. She was my second grade teacher."Becky McFadden and Sammy Kovel," the woman said, showing that she recognized us too.Mrs. Styles was ... litter heavier than I remembered but still an attractive woman. I recalled that she had gotten married when I was in the third or forth grade, something I would remember because of the crush I had had on her. Her breasts looked larger than I remembered and, sitting in the chair, she didn't look as tall.I introduced Becky to Mr. Olsen. She was. They were only seconds later in coming, and she lay quite still for a momentwith her eyes closed, imaging herself as seen from above ? lying spread outin the form of a Saint Andrew's Cross, her limbs clamped to the ground. Then,as usual, she struggled deliciously with her bonds for several minutes beforesubsiding, panting with exertion, into the straw she lay on. She lay still for a moment, savouring the feeling of the sweat between herbreasts and in the hollow of her flat stomach, and, above. No fuel injection for me, back then. When all my friends were buying Corvettes, Mustangs, Camaros, and Olds 442’s, I had my sedate, four door black sedan with the gold vinyl roof. Yeah, it looked a bit like a Mafia car, especially when driving it slow around the old neighborhood at dusk. I bought it used with 11,000 miles on it for $3,000, a lot of money to me back then in 1972. Okay, there was an unexplained big blood stain on the dashboard that the salesman ignored, but I didn’t ask any. Our toiled breathing gradually came back to normal as we lay there, cuddling and dozed off. When I awoke, Gerri was laying next to me, her arm laid on my chest and one leg straddled mine.I got up, stood beside the bench and leaned over, kissing her lips. She woke, returned the kiss as I slipped my arms around her, and carried her to the walk-in shower. I put her on the marble seat, went to turn on the recessed lighting and the two overhead rectangular shower heads. After turning on the water, I.
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