LITTLE MISS PINK BOWS

[littlebetsy]

“Little Miss Pink Bows,” Pt. 1

A new story by the author of “Her Very Own Sissy”

and “Mandy’s Little Plaything”

(The following story was inspired by a drawing sent to me by one of my readers.  I am in his debt for “Tammy the Terror.”)

Pt. 1:  Mrs. Stratford Speaks

MRS. STRATFORD:     Now hold still, Clarence.  I’m going to apply the curling iron to your pretty bangs.  Yes, of course you’re going to have them curled.  What kind of mother would I be to send her sissy son out in public without looking his very best?  Don’t worry, I’m not going to style all of your lovely locks, just the ones that will show after we put on your darling baby bonnet.  Oh, hush, you know I have to wrap the iron tightly so we get those wonderful ringlets that everybody loves.  Yes, I said everybody.  I get compliments about you all the time.  “My, my,” they say, “his hair is so fine and golden!  Is it dyed?”  No, I tell them.  That’s the lovely color he was born with.

Now raise up your right leg and point your toes like a pretty ballerina.  That’s my good girl.  We’re gonna slip on these extra fancy white anklets with their lacy cuffs and the cute little pink bow accents. Little Miss Pink Bows!  That what Mrs. Anderson across the street calls you now.  She asked me about all those pink bows.  She said, is that all that child of yours wears?  I laughed and said, well, no, but it just so happens that my son has a passion for frilly bows and the color pink.  So it should be no surprise that you see him so often with that adornment.

What do you mean you don’t like pink bows, Clarence?  Have you forgotten last week when Aunt Sally came over, and I put you in that fetching lilac leotard with the saucy pink bow on the crotch?  The whole time Sally was here the bulge behind that little bow kept getting bigger and bigger.  I worried that your naughty wee-wee might actually poke a hole through your pretty new dance outfit.  Now that proves it, doesn’t it?  Why would my little sissy son get so excited wearing pink bows if he didn’t just love them?  Okay, let’s do the other anklet now.

There, precious, now what shoes would you like to wear today?  Tennis shoes?  Don’t be a silly sissy!  Since you’re walking all the way to the village, you’re going to have to be a bit more dressed up than usual.  Well, then let’s see.  What about these darling black high heels?  Now don’t make a face.  Just look at the little pink bows adorning the toes.  Don’t they match your socks perfectly?  What’s more, the three-inch heels will keep you from slouching.  Do I need to tell you again that high heels lift your calves, push out your fanny and heighten that adorable sashay in your walk? 

Now stop that whining.  I simply don’t care if you hate wearing heels.  Sometimes feminine fashion requires that we make certain sacrifices in comfort.  Besides, it seems to me that a boy would want to be as tall if not taller than the girl he is going out with.  And even though Tammy is two years younger than you, she has a height advantage of a couple of inches.  These pretty shoes will put you a bit closer to her eye level.  Won’t it be nice, Clarence, for your date not to be looking down on you all the time?

Oh, how that girl has grown up! Do you remember when Tammy first moved in next door?  Tammy the Terror, I called her.  You were 11, she was 9, but it took no time for her to establish who was boss of the back yard.  I’ll never forget the day she first stormed into your sheltered life.  I watched as she invaded your private playground, ridiculed your soft, fine features and mocked your childish voice.  She laughed and said you were too old to be playing in a sandbox.   Then, as you sat panic-stricken, she danced a little jig over the intricate sandcastle you had spent the whole day creating.  You came running inside, tears gushing down your hot little face.  I held you and kissed you and felt your frail body trembling with fear.  I loved you and pitied you.  But I also knew Tammy was right.  You were stuck in an endless childhood, never willing to move on from your silly toys, terrified to make the bold move into adolescence.

So I chose not to scold that aggressive little tomboy.  I thought she might give you the toughening up you needed.  Accordingly, I turned my back a few days later when Tammy and her girlfriends taunted you and sang over and over “Clarence is a fairy, Clarence is a fairy,” even though you were on your knees crying and begging them to stop.  I said nothing when she broke your toys.  At Halloween I stood by when she stole all your candy.  I even invited her in one day to watch me spank your bare fanny for getting mud on your little white sailor suit.  I did this even though I strongly suspected that Tammy was the very one who put the mud there.

I thought this little girl bully could be my unknowing accomplice in forcing you to grow up.  But to my surprise, you became only weaker.  She would give you orders, and you would follow them like a good little slave – no matter how degrading or humiliating the command.  After the girl had played all day outside in her bare feet, she would direct you to lick the dirt off each sole before she went inside her house.  And you obeyed her without hesitation.  At dinner you would not eat the dessert I served you.  Instead, you’d wrap it in a napkin and bring it to Tammy as if it were an offering to a goddess.  She would even entertain her friends by getting you to pull down your pants so that they all could see how babyishly small you are down there.

After a couple of years of this dominance, I realized that your destiny was not to be a real boy at all.  Tammy’s taste for cruelty and your cowardice in her presence convinced me to look for a special quality in my son, develop it and exploit it.

Your cherubic face with its long eyelashes and puckering lips; your beautiful goldilocks; your hairless, milk-white skin; and your lisping, childish voice will always put you at a disadvantage when dealing with the average man or woman.  But fortunately for you and your single mom, there are some people with eccentric appetites who will find you delightful company.

And now, at 15, Tammy is almost grown up.  Gone are the freckles, the scabby knees, the baby fat, and the pageboy haircut.  They’ve been replaced by shapely tanned legs; the trim figure of a dancer; long, light brown hair; and a face that could land her on the cover of a glamour magazine.  You should be thrilled that any girl would stoop to go out on a date with you – much less one that has already been in several beauty pageants. 

Now, baby, wanna see what Mommy bought for you to wear today?  It came in the mail last week.  I ordered it from that catalog that we like to browse through, Sissy Showstoppers.  Close your eyes while I bring it out of Mommy’s closet.  Oh yeah, you’re just gonna flip over this.  Okay, baby, open your little eyes!

(To be continued.)

[Anonymous]

Pt. 2:  Tammy Speaks



TAMMY:     The back door was open, Mrs. Stratford, so I just came in.  Oh my gosh, look at my little girlie friend.  Clarence, you are wearing the cutest sissy sundress I could imagine.  Just look at those wide, lace-edged shoulder straps that button on the front.  And the size of those buttons!  They must be two inches across.  Perfect!  It’s all in proportion to what a real baby girl’s dress would look like.



Stand up, Clare, I want to see how short it is.  Oh, I must be dreaming.  Sissy, your dress doesn’t even cover the waistband of your frilly panties!  Aren’t you the shameless tease!  And, gosh, look at those stiff little petticoats and how high they make the skirt ride!  Am I going to enjoy walking you around today!  Now don't look so frightened.  You know we're going to have lots of fun!



Oh, now I see!  It’s a four-piece ensemble.  The dress, the panties, the baby bonnet and even the sissy purse are all cut from the same material!  What a smart idea!  Let me feel it.  So bunny soft and what a charming pattern:  little white hearts on a light pink background.  Is it cotton, Mrs. Stratford?  No?  A stain-resistant blend?  Say that again, please.  â€śFor the spills that sissy makes on himself and the spills that others make on sissy.”  Oh, now I get it.  That’s too funny!  Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!  I’m going to have to remember to tell that to Sabrina, Jill and Kelly.  Oh, stop pouting, Clare. I have a right to keep my friends informed, and they'll be delighted to know.



And so now it’s high heels for Miss Priss!  Such sexy grown-up shoes for a widdle baby thissthy to be wearing.  Walk for me, sweetie!  Let me see how my little pansy struts his stuff in big girl shoes.  Yes, once more down the hall.  Why, Baby Clarence, I think my little girlie friend has been holding out on me.  You’ve been practicing your sexy “Check Out My Cute Little A--” walk, haven’t you, Clare?



What do you mean you don't like wearing high heels?  Sweetie, they absolutely do wonders for your legs and posture.  And the way you move, people will think you were born wearing them.      



Sissykins, I’m awfully flattered that you’d get all dolled up for our date this afternoon.  A girl always feels special when her escort takes that extra step to look nice.  Like my friend Kelly says, when a boy dresses sharp, people notice both him and the girl on his arm.  Well, Clarence, looks like I’m going to get a lot of notice today.



What?  It wasn't your idea to dress that way?  Well, I think you're very lucky to have a Mom who takes such an interest in your clothes.  I wouldn't go out with you at all if you wore something ugly.



Oh, Mrs. Stratford, would you think it rude of me to make one little change in Clare’s lovely outfit?  Well, you see, the last time we went out on a date, your sissy son was extremely nervous and bashful.  I guess that’s normal when it’s your very first date with a girl.  But the problem is, Clarence was so shy that he just wouldn’t keep up with me.  He was scared to turn the next corner, or go into the next shop, or walk up to a group of my friends with me.  Yes, I know, you’ve taught your baby to walk prissily and not let one foot get too far ahead of the other. But I’m sure the pansy could have stuck close to me just by moving his pretty feet a little faster.



Well, what I had in mind was making our Clarence leave his sweet little panties at home today.  That way, I could tie a leash onto his teeny-weeny ball sack and give missy a little tug whenever he held back.



Oh, thank you!  I’m so glad you approve.  And see what I’ve brought with me?  Remember what you said about how crazy your girlish son is for pink bows?  Well, I picked up a yard of pink satin ribbon the other day.  Isn’t it just the perfect color for Clare’s outfit?



Now, don’t be afraid of me, sissy.  Tammy won’t hurt her timid little fairy-friend.  Down and off with these constricting baby panties, princess.  Ah!  Isn’t that so much better?  Aw, there, there, precious, don't cry.  I know it feels kind of funny to be so bare and vulnerable down there.  But the leash is for your own good, Clare.  What if I lost you in a crowd?  There are bad men out there, baby, who would do nasty things if they ever got their hands on a sissy like you.



Be still and let me run this end of the ribbon around your tiny testicles.  Stop squirming or I will spank you where you least want to be spanked.  Yes, now the ribbon goes underneath and then into a loop and then another loop.  And now I’ll close the knot.  There now, isn’t that just the icing on the cake?  Look at the lovely bow I made on your ball sack, sissy Clarence!  What a wonderful birthday present you’d make.  See, told you there’s nothing to worry about.  In fact, it’s really quite cozy.  On one end of the pink ribbon we have an itsy-bitsy sissy sack and on the other end we have the pretty hand of sissy’s date for the afternoon.  Isn’t that a good feeling, Clarence?  Knowing that you’ll never be separated from your girlfriend?



Oh, look, Mrs. Stratford.  Sissy’s blushing.  It must be all the attention I showed to his darling teeny parts.  What’s that?  Oh, yes, I see!  You’re absolutely right!  When sissy’s face blushes, his pretty little fanny blushes too.  Is that not adorable?  Red cheeks above, red cheeks below.  



Okay, let’s try walking.  I’ll lead you up and down the hall, precious.  That’s right, let me hear those heels clicking behind me.  Now then, don’t you feel so sexy in your short-short baby sundress and your big-big girl shoes?  



Time to go faster now.  Show Tammy you can keep up with her.  No, don’t run.  Stick to that silly little mincing gait.  Just move it faster, missy.  Remember, hands up and wrists limp.  Keep those dainty steps, but also keep up with your girlfriend.  Yes, that’s right, sweetie.  Yes, I love to hear your “click-click-click” and watch you twitch that naked fairy a--!  Oh my, you couldn’t look any more sissyish.  Boy, are you gonna draw a crowd today.



Stop sobbing, sissy, your mommy is trying to tell me something.



What’s that?  You want me to take your hairbrush along, Mrs. Stratford?  No, I don’t mind.  Yes, I’ll be glad to apply it the brat’s rear end if he gets surly or throws a tantrum.  Sure I know how to use it.  I’ve started working out at the gym and my arms and shoulders are really getting strong now.



There’s something else?  You have a snack for sissy to take on his walk?  What is it?  Okay, let’s go into the kitchen.  Remember to keep up with me, prissy Clarence.  If you lag too far behind, those little balls of yours are definitely gonna feel it.



Wow, I see; it’s a frozen treat for my little friend.  What is it, a popsicle?  It sure has a long wooden stick.  Okay, I’ll take the wrapper off.  Here we go . . . no!  I don’t believe it.  Ha-ha-ha-ha!  You can’t be serious!  It’s a popsicle in the shape of a big hard dic-k!  And it’s bright red.  What is it, raspberry?  What a delicious flavor!



Ha-ha-ha-ha!  Oh my gosh, this is too much.  Your son is going to be walking down the street wearing a baby dress, baby bonnet and high heels – and no panties.  I’m gonna be leading him by the balls, and he’s going to be licking and suc-king a huge red p-nis!



I can’t wait.  Hurry, little Miss Pink Bows!  On the way to the village we’ve got stop at my house and get my camera!



(To be continued.)

[Anonymous]

Pt. 3:  Tammy Speaks



TAMMY:     Hello, Mrs. Stratford, we’re back.  Yes, your sissy son has been crying.  In fact, it’s the fourth time he’s been in tears since we left.  Yes, I’ll come in, sit down and tell you all about it.



Well, we started down Elm Street.  Because of the beautiful weather, it seems that the entire town was outside, trimming hedges, washing cars, playing basketball, roller skating, biking or jogging.  And Clarence was a hit with everyone.  We were constantly stopped by adults and children who wanted to admire his adorable little sundress and bonnet.  Yes, they also complimented how well he walked in his big girl high heels.  And they all were so amused by sissy’s p-nis popsicle.  People kept saying, “Does it taste good, little girl?”  And poor Clare just blushed and kept on licking it.



It was when we got to Central Avenue that trouble started.  Coming down the sidewalk towards us was a group of tough guys that are always getting picked up by the police for one thing or another.  You might know Butch Fenton.  He’s Clarence’s age and dropped out of high school last year.  He was with his thug friends, Spike and Lance.  



As soon as they spotted us they started hooting, hollering and making the rudest remarks.  It’s one thing to tease a sissy and make him blush.  But there’s no excuse for foul language.  I’m not going to repeat the ugly remarks they made.  



I told them to mind their own business, but then Butch took the ribbon leash away from me and started pulling Clarence down the street.  He led him behind a building and was making the poor thing dance round and round in circles.  I tried to rescue my sissy date, but Spike and Lance blocked me.  



Then Butch yanked the leash upwards, and Clare was forced to go on his very tippytoes.  Yes, it was terribly cruel.  But I must admit that your sissy son danced really well on his toes.  I bet he’d do well in ballet.



Then all of a sudden Spike ran up and punched poor Clarence in the stomach.  I think sissy’s petticoats may have softened the blow, but still he doubled over in pain and fell on his hands and knees.



That’s when the boys noticed the p-nis popsicle.  Clare had dropped it on the ground.  The bullies started cackling and jeering and making more vulgar remarks.  This went on for some time.  



Then Butch picked up the popsicle and said, “Let’s see if this is your size, you crybaby queer.”  Then he pushed the icy shaft between Clare’s b-tt cheeks and rammed it right up his tender hole.  Sissy screamed, and you should have heard how the bullies laughed.



Finally, they spat on him and ran off.



I helped baby stand up and told him to straighten his bonnet and dress.  Tears were rolling down his soft, girlish cheeks and he was begging me to pull the popsicle out.



I shook my head.  â€śNo, Clare.  I’m disgusted to see you act like such a wimp and make no attempt to defend yourself.  You’ll just have to hold that frozen treat in your rear until we get you back home.  But I’m not taking you home just now.  We’re supposed to be on a date, remember?”



So I picked up my end of the leash and off we went to the village, me in front, smiling and waving to my friends, sissy in back, boo-hooing like the big baby he is, the stick in his butt wagging back and forth as he strutted in his big girl high heels.



“Pweasthe! Pweasthe, Missth Tammy,” he lisped.  â€śPull the popthicle out of my fanny!”



“Sissy,” I said, “if I pull it out of your b-tt, I’m gonna stick it right back in your mouth”  



After that he shut up.



In a way I did feel sorry for the little fairy.  I’m sure it must be awfully uncomfortable to have something that cold stuck deep inside you.  Yet at the same time, I knew I couldn’t go back on what I had said.  It would make me look like such a weakling, which everyone knows I’m not.



Finally, we reached Main Street with all the shops and restaurants that I love.  My first destination was a shoe store that has a snazzy pair of sandals I’ve been eyeing for weeks. I was about to go in, when I heard something clatter on the pavement behind me.



I turned around and saw that the wooden stick had fallen out of sissy’s rear end and was lying on the sidewalk.  I guess the frozen raspberry dic-k had finally melted away and the handle had worked its way out of Clarence’s little hole.



“Sissy!” I said.  â€śYou should be ashamed of yourself!  Here we are out on a date, and you embarrass me by littering on a public street.  Don’t you know there’s a law against that?  Pick that up and put it in a trashcan this instant!”



It’s a good thing you lent me your hairbrush.  Your sissy son needed to be corrected right away for his misbehavior.  So I made him bend over and gave his naked fanny 20 whacks with the back of the brush.  When I got finished I saw that we were surrounded by a crowd of onlookers.  And you know what?  They applauded and cheered me!  Gee, it was the same kind of thrill I get when I’m in a beauty pageant!



And so that was the second time Clarence cried.



Well, we spent the rest of the afternoon walking and shopping, shopping and walking.  Fortunately the shoe store still had the sandals I wanted.  I let little Clarence put them on me and buckle the straps.  At that time I noticed that baby was blushing on both sets of cheeks.  It must have been because while kneeling on the floor in front of me he had looked up my mini-skirt and caught a view of my panties.  The little sex-sneak!



Then to a boutique for a new pair of tight blue jeans.  Then to another store for a cute little tank top.  And then to the jewelers for a new pair of earrings.  I’m wearing them now.  What do you think?  Why, thank you!



Clarence was so generous.  Whenever I took an item to the cash register, the darling fairy would open up his purse and bring out more money.  I was amazed at how much cash that little girlie purse could hold!



By that time I decided we needed some refreshments.  So I headed straight for my favorite ice cream shop. But you won’t believe what happened.  I saw a group of my friends waving to me from a table.  As I was walking towards them, a waitress stopped me.  She’s actually a girl I know from school.  She pointed to my sissy’s bare bottom and then to a sign on the wall:  â€śNo shoes, no pants, no service.”



I was so mad.  Can you imagine such a ridiculous rule?  



Well, there was only one thing for me to do.  Sissy and I turned around and marched right out of that restaurant.  



Then I walked to the nearest lamppost and tied Clarence’s ball leash to it.  I grabbed  sissy’s valuable purse and walked back inside to join my friends, leaving my little bare-bottom girlie date alone outside holding my shopping bags.



(To be continued.)

[Anonymous]

Pt. 4:  Tammy Speaks



TAMMY:     After a long day of buying pretty clothes, I just love relaxing over a bowl of chocolate walnut crunch with my best buddies.  I told them all about how I persuaded you to let me remove Clarence’s panties for our date, about tying the ribbon leash onto his teensy ball sack, about helping Miss Priss practice his swishy walk in high heels, about giving him a p-nis popsicle to suc-k on in public, about Butch’s gang and the naughty thing they did to sissy’s rear end, and about how I corrected sissy with your hairbrush.  They were laughing hysterically, especially since they could see poor Clare through the window, tied up at the lamppost, alone, miserable and pantyless in his baby-girl sundress and bonnet.



We must have spent an hour in the ice cream shop, lingering over our empty bowls, whispering, gossiping and giggling.  Then the strangest thing happened.  We saw a scuzzy looking man come up to Clare and leer at him in the most perverted way.  He was acting as though he had never seen a bare-bottomed pansy before.  After a moment, the man looked around and started to untie sissy’s leash from the hitching post.  My gosh, I thought, that weirdo is going to kidnap my baby-girl date!  



Oh, and I was also worried about losing my shopping bags.



I started to get up, but then I heard sissy Clarence screaming at the top of his lungs.  Boy, he was wailing to wake the dead.  Well, that made the weirdo-pervert let go of the leash and he made tracks out of there fast.  You can imagine how relieved I was.  But it was also outrageously funny.  I saw that little Clare had been so terrified that he was piddling on the lamppost!  All my friends were dying laughing.



Of course, when I finally left the restaurant, I had to punish my petticoated fairy for being such a naughty little girl and tinkling on the sidewalk.  I gave him another 20 hard ones with the hairbrush.  And that made the third time he cried today.



When I told sissy it was time to go home, he smiled like a little angel.  It was the happiest I’ve seen him all day.  Instead of me pulling him, his teeny-weeny bare c-ck led the way all the way home. “Clickity-clickity-clickity” went little Miss Pink Bows in those grown-up high heels.  But I made sure that darling Clarence behaved himself and smiled and thanked all the people who commented on his cute outfit as we passed by.



Well, we were going up your front walk when your sissy son said the strangest thing.  He blushed and stammered and finally asked a favor of me.  You know what he wanted?  He asked if I would let him have a pair of my used panties!  He said he wanted something to remind him of me when I’m not around.  Can you believe that?  What a nerve!



I was furious and slapped his face four times.  â€śShame on you, sissy, for speaking that way to me!  It had been a perfect date, and now you’ve gone and spoiled it.  Only a disgusting little pervert would want to play with a girl’s used underwear.  I’m going to have to tell your mother!”



And that’s the fourth time he broke into tears.



Heavens, look at the time.  I’ve got to take a bath and get ready for my date with Darren this evening.  I can’t wait to show off my brand new sandals and tight jeans and sexy tank top that little Miss Pink Bows bought me.



Just think.  I have a sissy boyfriend that amuses me and buys me nice things to wear.  And then I have a real boyfriend who takes me out at night and who is a real stud in bed.



I’m such a lucky girl.



     *     *     *



(A few minutes later.)



MRS. STRATFORD:    Well, precious, that was quite a sissy adventure my baby had today.  I knew that sundress would be a hit, and how smart of Tammy to suggest keeping you to heel by attaching a leash to your sissy sack.



Now why are you pouting?  You should be delighted that a pretty and popular girl like Tammy is willing to spend time around you.  And it’s plain as day that you’re in deeply love with her.  Why else would you stare out the front window every afternoon, waiting for her to pass by on her way home from school?  Or hide behind a tree in the back yard to sneak peeks when she’s sunbathing in her thong bikini?



And you certainly have showered her with enough gifts.  Let’s look in your little sissy purse and see how much is left.  Hmmm.  Goodness, Clarence, you spent over $200 today. You must think the world of that teenager next door!



What’s that?  You’re crying because Tammy is going out with another boy?  Well, now look who’s jealous!   Poor sissy Clarence wants that pretty girl all for himself.  Isn’t that sweet?  Don’t worry, darling, Tammy will still be your friend.  But girls her age also need the attentions of boys who are big, handsome, and strong.  They want to be held by a pair of muscular arms.  And often they like making intimate contact with a p-nis that is large, powerful and masculine.  Just look at yourself with your bonnet, baby dress and tiny wee-wee, Clarence!  You’ll never be the kind of boy that Tammy will invite into her bed.  I know this must be hard for you to understand, baby, but the fact is that for a smart, sexy girl like Tammy the only thing you can aspire to be is her toy.  But once you accept that, then you can learn to be comfortable in your role as something for her to tease and laugh at.  Now dry your tears, sweetie, and give Mommy a big smile.  



That’s better.  Now, baby, you’ve had your fun with Tammy, and it’s time for you to take care of some business for Mommy.  You were quite the big sissy spender today.  That does not leave you with enough to pay Mommy back for that beautiful outfit I bought you.  And, remember, it’s almost the end of the month and there will be the mortgage, utilities, and the grocer’s bill to pay.  Now let me jot the numbers down, add them up and divide by fifty.  This goes into that . . . and subtract that . . . and then into that . . . well, that’s quite a lot, but I’m sure my sissy can handle it.  



Yes, Clarence, by the end of next week, you’ll have to s-ck 30 dic-ks!



Now here’s your little black book. Take it over to the phone, princess, and get to work.  Why not try to line up two or three for tonight?



     *     *     *



(A minute later.)



CLARENCE:   Hewwo, isth thiss Misther Holt?  Hi, thisth isth Sissthy Cwawenceth.  Wemember me?  I’m fine thanksth.  I wasth justh thitting here all awone with nothin’ to do.  And I thought, it sthure would be niceth if Misther Holt came over for a visthit.  You know, my widdle sissthy mouf feelsth stho empty without your big dic-k insthide it.





The End



__________________________________________



But Wait!  There’s More!



Coming Soon to This Website!



A new story by the author of “Little Miss Pink Bows”

and “Mandy’s Little Plaything”:



“SHOW AND TELL”



The shocking story a boy’s shameful secret

and the bizarre action his mother takes to

deal with it.



Excerpts:



"Howard was dressed not just like a three-year old girl but the way a three-year old girl might have been dressed in a long-ago age of folderol, frippery, frills, furbelows and foolishness."



"He looked back over his frilly shoulder at his tormentor.  Unlike the others, Sabrina was not laughing out loud.  Her beautiful face was a study in ironic amusement.  Her wide eyes and slightly parted lips seemed to say, 'Is this all it takes to wound you?  Then you make easy sport, my pet!'”



“That day I drove little Howie home myself.  I marched him into his house and had a very frank discussion with his mother.  Poor Howie sobbed all the way through it.  Then his mom slapped Howard’s face several times and made him take down his trousers in front of me.  I’ve never seen a face turn so red."



“Don’t worry, little girl,” she said with stinging cynicism.  â€śEveryone in our class will be delighted to see you.  They’ve been looking forward to my presentation all week.  After we finish today you’re going to be a celebrity!”