‘You want to keep me thirsty, Miss? Do you? I could die, right here, of thirst. Then what?’
Nadia’s eyes flit to the OFSTED inspector’s shoes – cheap brown brogues, customised teal laces. Wanker. She turns back to the interactive-whiteboard. Tap. Tap, tap. Michelangelo’s David. Not all of it. Just the cock. ‘Oops; let me just…’ Later she’d lament ever having tried to outmanoeuvre 9L by dissecting homoeroticism in renaissance art. She keeps jabbing. But the cock won’t go away. 9L fall silent for the first time. Ever. Then Chantelle starts rasping. Gasping for air as she slides from her chair.
Nadia’s eyes flit to the OFSTED inspector’s shoes – cheap brown brogues, customised teal laces. Wanker. She turns back to the interactive-whiteboard. Tap. Tap, tap. Michelangelo’s David. Not all of it. Just the cock. ‘Oops; let me just…’ Later she’d lament ever having tried to outmanoeuvre 9L by dissecting homoeroticism in renaissance art. She keeps jabbing. But the cock won’t go away. 9L fall silent for the first time. Ever. Then Chantelle starts rasping. Gasping for air as she slides from her chair.
