’ She tried to explain. ‘Well, Sir. As I understand it, Anya can mean ‘other’ or ‘another person’.’ ‘As in, ‘it wasn’t me, it was ...nya’ could either mean that I was blaming you or simply that it wasn’t me?’ She nodded, ‘Yes Sir.’ ‘Interesting. Especially if you want to distance yourself from your actions.’ She smiled. ‘Yes Sir. It is different for me to say, ‘It wasn’t me, it was Anya” ‘Quite,’ I replied. ‘In that case, who the hell is Anya—and who the hell are you for that matter?’ I paused.. I was in love with her. For fifty minutes each day, I'd watch her out of the corner of my eye. I'd see the profile of her beautiful face, watch the gentle rise and fall of her breasts, see the sunlight halo her golden hair.I wanted to touch her, to feel the smooth softness of her pale skin. I ached to have her look at me with those twinkling soft blue eyes. I wanted her to walk toward me with that inviting, sexy sway, the way she walked toward her boyfriend, Butch.I might as well've been a. More

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