And all at once he realized, too, that Miss Violetta, having stopped speaking, was eying him sidelong from beneath her drowsy lashes. “I-I-I see,” he agreed swiftly, hoping she had not noticed his sudden reverie.
“Mmm,” she murmured softly. “Perhaps you do…” She almost seemed to smile to herself. Without haste she extended a pair of soft fingertips, and to his extraordinary consternation she touched them delicately to the underside of the head of the astonished boy’s purpled organ, where the thin flesh of the foreskin began to gather. His eyes snapped suddenly to hers in a panic, but the motion with which she smoothed her dry digits an exquisitely slow inch back toward his enormously swollen scrotum was calm and impersonal, and judicially measuring somehow. She said not a word, and of cou
