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” A sly grin formed slowly on her lips. “Athlete, master craftsman, and a psychologist? You’re a Renaissance man, Mr. Griffin. Or do you prefer that I call you Michael… or Griff?” “No, that’s okay,” he shrugged. “Mr. Griffin’s fine.” She dropped her head and laughed, hands still folded under her arms. The sound was surprisingly disarming. It reminded him strangely of the wind chimes on his front porch. “Well, it’s a beautiful setting anyway,” she said as her laughter faded. “And a beautiful evening.” “So this is where we engage in small talk.” Her smile was catastrophic. “Are you always this exciting, Mister Griffin?” He had to touch her again. That face. He didn’t care how she might react. He had no interest in Sloan beyond her looks. Having witnessed her act all day he had no desire to join that particular circus. That stuffed shirt she had shown up with could have her. He raised his hand and traced lazy circles on her cheek with the backs of his fingers. She tilted her face into. The band was practicing for district competition and the band director was making them repeat the precision drills repeatedly. Jessie felt an orgasm building. When she came, Jessie staggered and missed her drum completely. It took several steps to regain her composure. The director figured he had been working the band to hard and gave them a break. Jessie slipped her fingers into her waist band and tugged the bow releasing the ball letting it slip away from her sensitive clit. “Are you okay Jessie?” her friend Rachel asked her. “I’m fine, just a bit winded,” Jessie lied. “What was that string you pulled out of your waist?” Rachel asked her panting friend. “Um nothing,” Jessie lied again. “And why are your cheeks so flushed. It isn’t even warm out today?” Rachel drilled her friend. “Look Rachel, you are just too young to understand,” Jessie tried dodging the question. “I am going to be seventeen before you,” Rachel shot back. Rachel kept pestering Jessie until Jessie decided.
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