Chapter Thirty Seven

And on the next dawn. Upon a beautiful morning.

John Jackson is with her. The ugliest of them all. She sits on his laps. As he kisses her. In class. In that same class where she once sat alone.

His kiss is paralysing. How he touches her hair. Plays with it. How his lips touches hers. With a fiery touch of passion.

And he pulls her closer. Her chest on his. Her breast on his. And she is soft. Her skin softer than any wool ever to exist. His muscle is hard. Harder than rock.

His hands go down. Lower to her waist. And his hands smoothen her. And go lower. To her back. Low down. Beyond her waist. And grabs her tight.

Just where she wants to be touched.

His hands play with her. Rubbing on her cloth and skin. But she pulls away. Just when he does that. Like she has thought of something. She does not want to do it.

She does not want to be touched there.

He does not understand. The worst of them all does not understand. Why she walks away from him.

But she is used to it. She runs away from what she does not know. Though John Jackson does not like it.