..Sure, we exchanged some vague pictures but none of her pictures did justice to how beautiful she looked in real life...She whore tight jeans with sh...ort black boots underneath, a clean white shirt nicely exposing her beautiful forms. She had half-short black hair, neathly cut, and the only hint of this being a naughty girl was the nipple-piercing sticking thrue her shirt.This girl was truely beautiful, what made me even more nervous, thankfully she broke the ice when a sweet "hello" came out. She was usually a bit abrasive and bossy, but it was as if she'd decided my change was a personal affront."I don't really like it, but there is not much I can do about it. Might as well just get on with things," I said. Her face darkened with anger. I wasn't really sure what it was about me that made her so angry at me.She seemed about to shout at me some more, but the teacher came in. Mr Roberts was an energetic man dressed in a rugby top and track suit bottoms. He was one of the nicer. In fact it would be better called a ‘Cottage,’ especially as it bore the name, ‘Willy Wagtail Cottage.’ It was of late nineteenth or early twentieth century vintage and was the only place that had the wattle trees that the name Wattle Avenue implied. The rest, if they had ever existed, had been swept away by the developer’s bulldozers during the housing construction of the sixties. Residents in the avenue found ‘The Cottage,’ as they called it, mysterious on two counts. The first was the fact. I missed everything that was him. As we kissed, oblivious of everything around us, I made a promise to myself that I would never lose this feeling again, and I hoped that we would never have to feel this separation again. * * *“What are you thinkin’ about?” Chris asked. His slid his fingers in between mine and our hands interlocked. His touch felt so warm and comfortable. “Detention,” I said.Chris kissed the back of my neck. He licked the back of my ear. “Why?”“If it wasn’t for detention, we.