The Turner’s Elaine hurriedly grabbed for her tattered black handbag as she exited her 1994 black mustang. She hadn’t washed her hair in about five days and piling her thick black locks high in a bun atop her head wasn’t going to disguise her neglect much longer. She felt the familiar breeze of the air against her backside and routinely hiked up her low rise skinny jeans to cover the inadvertent peepshow her buttocks were giving. Her saddle colored leather jacket looked about as done for as her hair, but that wasn’t something she was willing to change. She head for the school doors taking a brisk stride. Her long legs kicked upward, as if she were practicing her best goose step in some foreign army; likely the consequence of wearing cumbersome motorcycle boots. As she strode toward the principal’s office she sighed and curled the top corner of her upper lip, making no effort to hide her annoyance when she spotted Belinda. Belinda was impeccably dressed as always and returne...
Rants, Raves, Reviews and Reflections... From A Lady With Lots Of Kinks In Her Thinking.