#44344 - Mr Skinner was now resting against his desk with his hands stuffed deep into his trouser pockets and his eyes glued to my every move as I straightened my skirt. ” Mr Skinner was sitting behind his large oak desk gently rocking backwards and forwards in his leather swivel chair. His breathing was now so loud and fast I thought that he was having an asthma attack until he coughed and asked me, “Are you finished?” “Yes sir,” I whispered with tears running down my cheeks from embarrassment and pain.
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