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She turned back towards the windowand tried to bat the thought away forcefully. What rested inside of thechest should remain in there, locked away for...eternity. She had no moreneed or desire to touch that... thing. And yet... Anya almost felt as ifthe chest was staring at her, as if unseen eyes were boring into herback. It was like trying to avoid looking at a pet which was constantlytrying to get your attention."This is ridiculous. Even if I were to use that... object... again, thatwould offer. At the same time, my mother must’ve had the same idea. She surely stopped for a brief second, but it must not have been long because I watched her hand move up and down her crotch underneath her skirt. I cannot make out much but I definitely could tell what she was doing. The fact that I was looking directly at her now had to be obvious to her. At this point I know she was aware I saw her. We both were putting on a show for the other. But at the same time, we were enjoying the show and about to. " I do." Thanks. I am leaving because I was supposed to be in bed an hour ago. Do not read this note until I have walked through that door." Good night, Quigley." See you in a month, Jax." In two weeks," I corrected, "if you are going on the club field trip to that sci-fi convention. But if you're not--" Will you be there?" I have never had a reason to attend the con before, so, yeah. I will go." See you in two weeks."…The following morning, I sat in bed alone, still in my pajamas. I had woken. “I want to know. Touch yourself.” Stacy did as I asked, apparently still enjoying being a bad girl. She slide her hand up under her skirt. When she withdrew it again her middle finger was wet. “Yep,” she smiled. I looked at her sternly. “Good. Just don’t cream on my seat.” Stacy hit my shoulder. “Fuck you,” she cried. I smiled and started the car. Pulling up outside my house we got out. The street was quiet and we weren’t worried about being seen. I walked to my front door but before.
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