She heads to the side of the room. “Today we’re going to journal with a prompt,” she says, adjusting her glasses. It didn’t take me long to figure out they’re her protection, the way she pushes them up on her nose when she’s nervous, shifts them while she thinks. “Close your eyes for a moment and imagine you’re falling. Is there a parachute? Where are you falling from? What do you see on the ground? How does it feel?” I close my eyes and imagine my hand sliding underneath her tight skirt, between her legs. Two fingers working the fabric of her panties over her clit. It’s become an obsession of
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