The skirt zipped on my left side and fit snugly around my waist. I smoothed the fabric, my bare toes flexing. I grabbed my socks and pulled them on as...fast as I could.“Heather Miller,” Mother cried for a third time, “why are you dawdling?”“Sorry, Mother!” I called back.I rushed to the door, my black hair swaying a thick braid behind me. I was so nervous after taking those panties home, that I forgot to undo it before I settled on the bed. Lucky me, I didn’t have to spend the time to read. I excused myself, and was absurdly pleased when he followed me. I mean, he wasn’t extraordinary looking: about 6’ tall, with brown hair that looked like it would curl up if it weren’t short, and laughing green eyes. Laughing AT me, really. And he certainly wasn’t built or anything; I thought he looked pretty thin. I was thinking: hot geek. But when I punched his arm, I hurt my hand which made me suspect some lean muscle tone beneath the zeppelin t-shirt and loose dark blue jeans.By the. More

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