Nicht lieferbar
Warning: Very taboo. Not for the faint of heart. May include BDSM, incest, and other taboo and forbidden elements. This is a vintage **full length** (100+ Pages), post-censorship erotic novel.
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Miss Walters stood behind her desk at the head of the room. She was English; she looked and dressed it. The expensive tweed suit she wore did an efficient job of disguising what was left of her figure, and her salt-and-pepper hair was pulled back from her face in strict enough fashion to almost eradicate her sex.
There were eighteen girls in the room. eighteen of them wore their cashmere sweaters, soft woolen skirts, single strand of pearls and ponytails as though wearing a uniform. They sat moodily in their straight-backed chairs, looking bored, disinterested and discontented. The eighteenth girl was different. She was Diedre Ryan. She wore a tailored dress of inexpensive green flannel. Instead of the inevitable pearls around her neck, she wore a bright green orlon scarf tied into a rakish bow. Her copper hair was an unruly mass of natural curls which she consistently refused to tie back in a restraining ponytail. She, alone among the girls, was listening with interest and appreciation to the words of Miss Walters.
"Norden," the harsh voice of the teacher directed itself to one of the obviously "in" girls seated before her, "give me the name, author and publication date of the first known English novella." There was no answer. It was obvious to Miss Walters, and to Deedee, that Carol Norden was paying no attention whatsoever to the words of her instructor.
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Miss Walters stood behind her desk at the head of the room. She was English; she looked and dressed it. The expensive tweed suit she wore did an efficient job of disguising what was left of her figure, and her salt-and-pepper hair was pulled back from her face in strict enough fashion to almost eradicate her sex.
There were eighteen girls in the room. eighteen of them wore their cashmere sweaters, soft woolen skirts, single strand of pearls and ponytails as though wearing a uniform. They sat moodily in their straight-backed chairs, looking bored, disinterested and discontented. The eighteenth girl was different. She was Diedre Ryan. She wore a tailored dress of inexpensive green flannel. Instead of the inevitable pearls around her neck, she wore a bright green orlon scarf tied into a rakish bow. Her copper hair was an unruly mass of natural curls which she consistently refused to tie back in a restraining ponytail. She, alone among the girls, was listening with interest and appreciation to the words of Miss Walters.
"Norden," the harsh voice of the teacher directed itself to one of the obviously "in" girls seated before her, "give me the name, author and publication date of the first known English novella." There was no answer. It was obvious to Miss Walters, and to Deedee, that Carol Norden was paying no attention whatsoever to the words of her instructor.