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For this last chapter I'll let you come up with your own title. As I said awhile back, I was involved in an incident in Manchester, where I was teaching at a college; that was more biology, than what I am doing now. Shortly after the incident, I packed my bags and moved to London; so you see why it's last on the list. There won't be anymore, so don't ask.

I was twenty-three at the time with a steady boyfriend; both living alone, and yet to move in together. After the morning lessons were over, I retired to my office for a light lunch of sandwiches. Then ten minutes later, I heard a knock on the door. "Come in," I said. And in stepped Jerome, a somewhat timid boy. "What's up Jerome?" I asked. "It's my grades, miss. I keep getting distracted," he nervously says. "By what, Jerome?" I enquire. "Not what, miss," he replies. "Then by who, Jerome?" I concernedly enquire. "You, miss," he shyly rejoins. As I've said before, being desired by a man is a potent aphrodisiac. Jerome however, was a student. "I see, you've got a crush on me, is that it?" I enquire further. "That, and..." he replies. "And what?" I press him. "No miss, I'm too embarrassed," he coyly tells me. "It's okay, Jerome," I assuage him, moving closer and perching on the edge of my office table with my arms folded, not realising that the slit of my skirt has opened to reveal the top of my stocking. "You can tell me," I assure him. "Okay miss. I think about you at night. There, I've said it," he tells me. "Is that all?" I say, realising that it's quite normal for young men to have women on their minds. ...

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