She knew that look, the look she called avarice or hunger; right on the border of lust and rapine. She knew he wanted to mount her, screw her, right t...en and there. She sat, pulled down the hem of her stylishly short skirt, smiled, sat up very straight and answered questions, thrusting out her impressive chest and crossing her booted legs, chatting happily about her good education and her skimpy work experience."Now, Miss Taylor," the man was saying as he shuffled papers and tried not to look. "Okay," I said, "yeah, we were, um, busy. But it's okay. Come on in, what's wrong?"That snapped Sandra back to the reality that had brought her, crying, to my door in the first place. "Tom," she said as she walked in, "I'm screwed. I'm flunking two of my classes, and I blew my first three midterms this week, and if I can't get my grades up they're gonna kick me out and I have to go home!"I wasn't sure what to say beyond a trite "it'll be okay," so I just put a hand on her shoulder and. More

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