No stalling

“Your continual stalling, Candice, leaves me with no alternative. I’ll phone your dad.”

“Excuse me, Principal Suter; the sleaze is you holding the measuring tape.”

“Careful, young lady, even at eighteen, you must adhere to mandatory college dress length.”

“Where, when you perv behind me on the stairs?”

“False accusations, Miss Evans. Agree to my inspection of your tartan, or mum receives a call.”

“Okay, but one measure, hem to the waistband, and if you touch my thigh, I have a yellow karate belt.”

“Stop swaying.”

“Am not.”

“Quit rocking.”

“Excuse me, your geriatric hands trembled.”

“Candice, desist the buttock shimmy.”

“Oye, my bum!”

“No movement, Ms Evans. I’ll ban you from being prom queen.”

“Oh, no, pretty please, Mr Suter.”

“Last chance, remove the skirt. I’ll check it on my desk.”

“Ugh, there you are, one close enough regulation tartan.”

“My goodness, maybe, but those are not college-stipulated white cotton underwear.”

“This proves you are a creep!”

“The goddamn pink G-string, Ms Evans, or kiss prom goodbye.”

“What the hell?  Go ahead and sniff them, Sir.”

“In God’s good time, after I measure those amazing shaved lips. They defy standard girly issue.”

“Tarnation, you old codger, no different from a jock. Stretch ‘em out. Spit on ‘em. Lick ‘em.  Finger ‘em. Fill ‘em. But whatever you choose, never stall my pleasure.”