"Pour l'art et la culture" for God and the Queen, I was ready to sacrifice my modesty, and was thankful that Madame Lacoste wasn't around ! I started to climb that step ladder, I hadn't reached the third step when a dashing librarian dashed. "No! No! Only librarians are allowed on those ladders !"
I stepped down with a large smile for the savior of my modesty, "Merci Monsieur !" I gave him the reference and he got me the book for my essay. He had noticed the Tutankhamen title of that book and invited me to visit the "mummy lab". On the way he apologized for his poor English accent, "Vous êtes anglaise ?" I protest with mock vehemence, "Ecossaise !"
Back home I told my roomies, "The odor of methanol was horrible, I almost fainted, and grabbed one of his muscular shoulders. He wrapped a strong arm around my back with a reassuring smile... oh... yummy.... his square jaw.... his blue eyes..." my friends giggled, and I teasingly added, "...his strong chest... his opened shirt with a few hairs..." Leslie teased back, "Did you wet your knickers ?"
Madame only heard those last two words, "Leslie ! What is that language ?" Our friend hurriedly apologized, but Madame had already caught her ear as if a ten years old. She found a chair, and pulled Leslie over her knees. She tried to escape as soon as her ear was released.
Madame who had two daughters had plenty of experience. She grabbed Leslie's arm and locked it behind her back while wrapping one of her legs over those of the American girl. Next she had her skirt up and knickers down, and spanked her. She alternated between her bottom and thighs. Leslie showed everything she has, and eventually stopped wriggling.
Next Madame had her holding one of her famous writings with her nose while exposing her bare crimson moon. This time the message read, "A proper young lady will always use the best language."
Later when Leslie was let out of her corner and allowed to rub her still fiery bottom I was asked the name of my beau, "Its Adrien... such a manly name, and I don't know what possessed me, I gave him a peck on the cheek as we parted. Cécile laughed, "Its one on each cheek in France !" Margit commented, "Brazen Scottish girl !
Leslie still rubbing her now skirted bottom chimed, "We have this dishy Italian guy in my advanced French class and he gave four to a few of us !" Cécile giggled, "Have you heard of Italian kissing ?" I showed off and explained, "Its French kissing with the boy having one hand..." Although Madame was heard going back to her apartment I whispered, "... on your bottom !" Margit concluded, "I have a feeling that Leslie will soon have an Italian boyfriend...."
Flora and co
To be continued
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