At first."My heart lurched. I could barely breathe. Was that a...come on?"I just want to have dinner," she went on as if she hadn't just reachedinto m...y chest and given my heart a playful squeeze. "But I'll be therefor a week. Plenty of time for other things."I could barely breathe. I was back to being a basket case...she wasclearly coming on to me, and I hardly knew how to act. I comfortedmyself by stammering pathetically and doing my best broken-down old carimpression.I lied, it didn't comfort. Just before he opened the secret door, he saw her and froze. She wasn’t, she couldn’t, she was. She was a picture of desire, her elegant fingers plundering the depths he longed to plunder, with his fingers, his tongue, his… His eyes devoured her tits and his mouth watered, he watched as her face grimaced in pleasure. Her pleasure was driven to heights unimaginable as yet again she felt his presence. Unashamedly she spread herself, she could almost feel his touch, his breath, she yearned for him. Her husband was a little older but very tan like her and wearing an excessive gold watch, a rich guy and a trophy wife. The third one, however, I never saw speaking to anyone else—no obvious husband or grandparents. She had brunette hair with auburn accents, from the sun perhaps, long and naturally curly. She wasn’t quite as skinny as the other two, but she still looked quite good. Belly, thighs, hips: she wasn’t rail-thin, but she had a natural, attractive, feminine shape. But what really. Ace had been my bus driver for the past three years. After more than 400 days of conversing, we had become quite familiar with each other. It was more than just hopping onto the bus and mumbling ‘Hello’ as you pass by. Developing some sort of a relationship, whether it be a friendly adult-child or staff member-student one, is key in a school environment. Everyone has a story that makes up their life. While Ace is driving the bus, it seems to get brushed past and hidden under the wheel. I.