Her eyes drifted down again where she no doubt caught site of my tented groin. "James," she said laughing and putting her hand over her mouth, then r...moving it. "You know, it's okay. Don't feel bad. I totally understand where you're coming from. And I'm touched. A little bit grossed out, but touched." It would be a great honor, ma'am." I said, lowering my voice.Amy laughed. "No, you can't call me ma'am. I'll tell you what, James. From now on if nobody else is around you can call me. “Mr Jenkinson” the girl replied, with more than a hint of embarrassment.Miss Driscoll laughed, another cloud of smoke bellowing from her lungs. Mr Jenkinson, the history teacher in his late sixties had a reputation as being holier than thou, who made the pretence of strongly disagreeing with her approach to education. He had once made a complaint about her liaisons with the boys, which he had promised to drop in return for a sexual encounter of his own. But she didn’t do blackmail. If he had. More

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