"Where did you find this young man?" asked Virginia."Watford," replied Albert. "Further away than we might wish, but to takeany more lads locally would invite unwelcome attention. He made themistake of trying to pick my pocket." Where am I?" asked Harry, now fully conscious and looking around himwith puzzlement."Welcome to The St. Searle School for Wayward Girls. My name is VirginiaChapford. I am the headmistress of this establishment." 'Ere, you can't go treating me like this," protested Harry, trying -and failing - to shake off the iron grip of those holding him, "youain't the bleedin' rozzers." You have no conception of what we can and cannot do," said, Virginia,indicating the old ledger and the small stone statuette on the desk infront of her. The latter was an ugly looking thing, a crude stonecarving of a voluptuous, very large-breasted woman."What...what is that?" Pick it up, please." Why?" asked Harry, looking at the statuette fearfully."Because you are in no position to refuse. There was no telling how far we might have gone if the phone hadn’t interrupted us.I told myself that, if it really was just a normal part of having a maturing teenage boy in the house then I didn’t want to say or do anything to damage his development or – worse – ruin his rapidly maturing relationship with his father, my husband.The disturbing truth was that feeling that young man’s hands on my body in that way had given me a tremendous thrill, the like of which I had seldom experienced in my very limited sex life.I needed advice and I needed it badly. And there was only one person I could go to so there I was in the coffee shop in a fluster. The lunchtime rush hadn’t started and cafe was nearly empty. All the same, I looked carefully around to make sure I couldn’t be overheard before answering Lou’s question and telling my friend my shameful secret.“He touched me,” I whispered, leaning as close to Lou as I could without drawing attention to myself.“For real?” she asked, her eyes.
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