Mrs. Cole called me upstairs. I set my water down on the table and went up the stairs. It was very hot up there, so I took my vest off and set it on t...he banister. I went into her room and closed the door.“Mrs. Cole,” I yelled. For a few seconds there was no answer. “Mrs. Cole,” I called again. This time, I got a response.“In the bathroom,” she called. Now I could hear her piss hitting the toilet bowl and I was strangely aroused by the sound. I thought about baseball to get rid of my small. I chuckled. “Come to the house then. We talked about it last night. I have one other piece of news though. I got a call from a surgeon last night about the scars. I fly out to get the surgery done at the end of next month in Beverly Hills. Me, Dad and Emma are going to leave on the 28th and be back on the 2nd of February.”“Really?” she asked as she was putting on her jacket. “He just called you up and scheduled you like that?”“Well, he mostly called to consult and said if I was out there, he’d. He couldn’t take his eyes off her as her bare arms had a sensual look whilst her low-cut vest top showed off her curves, her flowing hair was film star-like, and she wore a really short skirt and her bare legs were downright sexy.Partway through the meal, Ben talked about school. Emma wasn’t worried as she was still in education, albeit in the first year at Uni, instead of only in Year 11 as Ben was. Still, that was still no particular issue for Emma who felt an increasing attraction for a boy. For fear of looking stupid in front of Mr. Smith, if nothing else. Mr. Smith doesn't so much as glance at her as he scribbles something illegible in a spiral book. She fidgets nervously, excitement giving way to anxiousness as he continues to ignore her. Finally, after what seems like long minutes—though couldn't possibly be longer than one—Mr. Smith sets down his pen, closes his book, and looks up at her. The sensation she gets when their gazes lock feels a lot like vertigo, she reckons, as.