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”“Do it again and I’m hiding the keys. I’m not joking, honey. These machines can kill you.”“Kay. Sorry.”I watched her find and put her helmet on before returning to the kitchen. For the next half an hour Rachael roared around the property. From the sound echoing through the open kitchen doors, I could tell when she was racing and when she was cruising and, smiling, I noted how racing dominated.Eventually silence returned. I sat to read a book in the rear garden courtyard after checking on my granddaughter. She was busy at the computer, occupied with a chat program.The afternoon passed calmly. Weather was hot, sun intense; typical Arizona. When evening approached, I started the charcoal barbecue and puttered around in the kitchen preparing a salad and soaking corn on the cob in strong brine. The steaks, thick and aged to perfection, sat on the counter to get to room temperature.With everything prepared, I opened a bottle of Argento Pinot Noir, a nice red wine from Argentina. Glass in. Tatyana winked at me.Surrounded by my escort of cheerleaders, I marched towards the cafeteria’s open doors.“Stay pure tonight!” Lola Lovell said, standing on her soapbox with a megaphone. She wore a demure gown of white. She was surrounded by a group of futas and girls, all equally in long skirts and high necklines, all nodding along with her. They wore their purity bracelets, some with promise rings, others clutching the crosses they wore.I winked at them, my glittering titties bouncing as my escort of cheerleaders swept me passed.Then we entered the cafeteria. The music swelled as I passed through a balloon arch of purple and gold. The interior had been transformed by the dance committee, streamers dangling from the ceiling. All the lunch tables were gone, the space cleared out for the festivities. The lights were turned down lower, a fun atmosphere engulfing the place. There was a performance stage at the far end where student bands would sometimes play during lunch. The DJ was up.
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