"Thank you, Emily," Leah says. I tuck one leg behind the other and bob down in a littlecurtsey. "Is there anything else I can do for you, ma'am?" I as...her."Not at the moment, thank you," she replies.I pirouette through 180 degrees and make my exit from the room,taking short steps in my high heels and placing one footdirectly in front of the other so that my arse wiggles as Iwalk. I don't suppose that Leah is looking. She has probablyalready picked up the newspaper and is reading the main. Mrs. W. was a frumpy, lumpy old redhead, with a wide ass and a prominent boob shelf jutting from the shapeless sack dresses she wore. To my nineteen year old self, she seemed ancient, although I suppose she was somewhere in her late fifties to early sixties.My room was on the third floor of the old house, sort of an attic under the roof with sloping ceiling and two dormer windows. There were two overseas grad students on the second floor, who I rarely encountered, and Mrs. W. resided on the. More

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