Every week I watched her. Just one hour a week! How my eyes feasted on her form. I was allowed to look: she was teacher. She stood at the front of the class, twisting herself into a series of crazy postures, which we all struggled vainly, flabbily, to copy. She was perfect. We trembled before her perfection – three old ladies, a skeletal teenager, and me. She didn’t seem to notice us: it was as if we were viewing her own private ritual. I stood at the back of the class and stared unashamedly. The whole hour, I gazed at her, willing my miserable self to copy her effortless grace. I took in every detail, drinking her in. The stark bones at her collar and wrists, the arch of her spine, the firm, pink nipples that grazed her t-shirt. She barely spoke as she moved: her few words bahis şirketleri sounded like a lullaby. “Deep breath…suck your belly in…drop your shoulders, relax your neck, your face, tilt your pelvis…” I did all she told me: willed my limbs to mirror hers. Week by week, they started to respond. I barely noticed. I only watched her. But she saw it, saw me, and started to smile at me now and then, when I skipped through the door, when my limbs lengthened, my spine flattened, according to her demand. At the end of each class she turned the lights off for five minutes and instructed us to relax, breathe, meditate, feel the weight of the floor beneath us and sink into it. I spent that time thinking of all the things I’d like to do to her, given the chance. How I’d smooth bahis firmaları my fingers over her elegant lean contours, before pushing her legs apart and delving into the hot wet essence of her, the filthy female essence I prayed lurked beneath her prim, controlled exterior. I would grab her buttocks and guide her on to my face, making her buck and moan as my teeth and tongue found her waiting and wet for me, tasting her, teasing her, nudging and sucking on her, forcing her to lose control, shriek and cavort like an animal caught in a trap. Yesterday, I started to see how I might get my chance. She was distracted when her class trotted in, and when she began teaching, her movements were awkward almost clumsy. I stood at the back watching as she winced and limped through kaçak bahis siteleri the motions, like a tiger stalking its wounded prey. All too soon, as ever, it was ever. But now was my chance! Surely I’d never find a better one. I’d not spoken to her before, only smiled. I screwed up all my courage and went up to her. “You’re having some trouble today?” My voice quivered a little at the start, but finished confident. In charge at last. She nodded at me, ruefully. “I must have slept awkwardly. My shoulder’s killing me. I can hardly move my right arm.” She demonstrated, wincing as she tried. I cleared my throat. “Would – would you like me to do a little work on that for you? I’m – I’m a trained masseur.” She looked flustered, doubtful, then grateful. “Do you think it might help? I’ve got another two classes to teach today, and I don’t know how I’ll get through them.” “I’ll do my best”, I said firmly, trying and failing to keep the eagerness out of my voice. “Kneel down in front of me. That’s it. Lower your neck.