Mr Syme, our teacher had arrived and launched into the days lecture. Now Mr Syme was a perfect example of someone who should never be a teacher. I had...no doubt that he had a first class mind but he had the social skills of tiger with a tooth ache. To him every student was a pain in the arse and we were all treated with the same level of caustic contempt. He was a weasel faced man with thin grey hair who wore the same tweed suit every day and spoke with a whining voice. No sooner had he started. I suppose that is because I am not man enough to sleep in a bed with any color other than pink sheets. As I laid down and pulled the sheets and comforter up over me, my head was swimming with the events of the day. My initial thoughts were about how sore my legs were from the heels and how sore my back was from carrying around these huge silicon breasts all day. Then as I thought about it, was all of this really happening or am I dreaming? I honestly never thought that Mistress Cindy would. More

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