The figures were about eight inches in height, crudely moulded and almost featureless. They knelt upon a rough, but level iron base that was about an ...nch in depth. Though simple, the artefact had a genuine quality to it that made it a nice little piece. Cassie sighed softly as she looked at the artefact, not in frustration, but in sorrow. The friend who had handed the sculpture over to Cassie, a wild-hearted archaeologist named Clara Roft, had been missing for several weeks. She had been. I rolled over onto my back tryingnot to miss any of it. She came over to see me. "Are you OK?" she asked.Then she saw my boner sticking up and frowned in disgust, calling me aperv. She played off the incident in the moment; little did I know whatshe had in store.After class, she pushed me against the wall saying, "I don't ever want tocatch you looking up my skirt again, freak! Come to my house on Fridaynight."The day came. I wasn't sure what to wear, since I didn't know whatexactly was going to. More

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