Gonorrhea. Chlamydia. I was fighting all that when I showed up at the beginning of my senior year in Pat Johnson's English class.I was seventeen, abus...d. Pat was a great teacher. Something about her though, made her seem approachable, so I approached. English questions, naturally. How do you get a foot in the door as a writer? She took me to some readings at the university. After about a month and a half of hanging out, things progressed. One of us kissed the other one. I honestly don't. Gina stood up dusting off her hands proclaiming, “That’s should be it.” Shit, I thought, the show was over. She hit the button and the overhead door came down. It was an awkward moment to be alone with her in the dimly lit building. “That ol pricks’ probably still napping,” she stated referring to her husband. As we walked toward the pole barns side door I realized in a moment of courage it was now or never. I jokingly slapped her on the ass saying, “You’ll get a bill in the mail.” Her big ass. More

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