Dear Diary,
My English teacher tutored me after school yesterday. She sat with me teaching sentence structure and grammar. Every time she touched my hand my heart fluttered. I tried to pay attention. I couldn’t. My mind was somewhere else. She patted my hand taking it into hers. Her slender fingers guided my hand to her thigh. My hand slowly moved under her skirt as she continually taught me how to use grammar when all I wanted to use was my tongue. Then it happened…