She gasps as her fingers softly brush over her lips. Her free hand on her desk, she hears the hum of her butterfly, her fingers pushing down upon the...thick pile of unmarked papers, crinkling while her nostrils flare as she inhales that sweet musky scent of a woman’s arousal. The clock upon the wall still ticks away, the beat of time a never ending constant. The tip of her long middle finger sliding over her slit, the hand on her desk clenching a poor student’s test paper being balled up in. The strange part was she didn’t run from the house but walked away as if she was just over for a visit. She said she thought this was about 4:30 but she couldn’t be sure.’ I nodded, I was suddenly in a daze. Then suddenly I thought of something. ‘You said they found the murder weapon. If they got the prints off it, they could prove it wasn’t me.’ Mr. Wallace shook his head. ‘Whoever did this knew what they were doing. They washed up in the bathroom sink, the police think they used the washer to. More

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