Tag Archives: Miss Peterson
It was a Wednesday when I finished my assignment. I put my diary on Mister McIntyre’s desk with all my dirty secrets open for him. My teenage fumblings and my embarrassing attempts at dating. All of my dirty dreams and forbidden fantasies. All the times I had to go into the bathroom and rub myself while covering my mouth because Mister McIntyre had leaned over me while I typed a letter or chided me for taking too long at lunch. Continue reading
She didn’t say anything when she walked in. She just brushed me aside and sauntered in with that strut she had. She looked around as she pulled each finger of her glove and then took them off and slipped them into her purse.
“You don’t look sick.” she said looking me up and down as I closed and locked the door.
“I mean, you’re pale and your hair is dull and lifeless, but I’m guessing you always look like that.”
Why was she in my apartment? Obviously Mister McIntyre sent her. Why her?
“As I can tell from your silly little scrunched up face and crossed eyes you are obviously trying to fathom why I’m here.”
Her gloves were finally off. She was walking around my living room, a look of amusement on her face. Continue reading