’ ‘No good, they told me to seal it behind me.’ ‘That’s not protocol,’ Jordan said. ‘The board, what’s on the board?’ ‘The board is clean!’ ‘We need to start,’ June shouted. ‘Why start, the board is clean?’ Stewart asked. ‘My God, the board, look at the board, it’s gone all red,’ Jordan screamed. ‘Son of a bitch,’ Stewart replied, he then paused, took a deep breath and then grabbed a key. Unlocking his desk he pulled out a notebook and opened it. ‘Okay, everyone stay calm,’ looking down at the book he read out Operation One fish Delta,’ turning the page he then read out, ‘Keyword: Two fish.’ June then screamed, ‘Why hasn’t anyone called Omaha, Omaha, Oma, Oma…’ —– ‘June, June darling. You’re Oma’s here.’ ‘Oma, Oma, Omaha…’ she called out running to her grandmother. ‘Why June, you’re crying, what’s wrong?’ ‘One fish, two fish,’ she replied, grabbing her and squeezing her hard. Her grandmother looked up to the daycare worker and said, ‘You just have to wonder what they do in there all. ” It takes me a few moments to react, enthralled as I am, much to your amusement. Your rich chuckle, however, galvanizes me into motion. Reaching behind me, I clumsily unzip the modest cotton skirt and wiggle out of it, pushing it down past my thighs and letting it pool at my feet, my soaked panties on display. I risk a quick glance as your eyes drift downward, seeing what you see; matching pink cotton turned dark with my juices pushing up between my pouting lips, leaving them partially on display. “Slut.” “Your slut, Miss.” “Good girl. Mine.” Your words almost predatory. Once again, you shift, this time sitting up straight, a single finger tap on your thigh all the instruction I need. It’s all I can do not to fling myself across your lap. I know better, though. As carefully as I can, I lower myself and shuffle on my knees, turning so that my belly presses against your waiting thigh, the thin cotton of your pants brushing against my trembling flesh. “Mine,” you repeat, hand resting on.
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