We’re dancing… bodies held close… swaying slowly to the sound of the music the rain plays for only the two of us hear. You dip your head to smel... my hair, held off my neck with one clip… your lips locating the cord of my neck just below my ear… wolf-like smelling the blood that pulses there and brushing over it lightly… following the flow… bathing it in your hot breath… the sheer intimacy of the act sending a spark of electricity through my entire body and making my knees weak for just a split. Mrs Havisham took her choices each year and they moved to her Tuition and Training courses. Mrs Havisham was the most generous person for these young ladies and gave them a future.The youngsters paraded in. Each wore the standard school uniform. Full length dress in grey, the hem touching the tops of their black boots, together with a white cotton blouse made in one of the best mills in Lancashire. Although never discussed, underneath they wore a corset, stockings and bloomers. Mrs Havisham had. More

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