3
" Teachers were not allowed to beat children as they did in the past, although, Mma Ramotswe reflected, there were some boys-and indeed some young men-who might have been greatly improved by moderate physical correction. The apprentices, for example: would it help if Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni resorted to physical chastisement-nothing severe, of course-but just an occasional kick in the seat of the pants while they were bending over to change a tyre or something like that? The thought made her smile. She would even offer to administer the kick herself, which she imagined might be oddly satisfying, as one of the apprentices, the one who still kept on about girls, had a largeish bottom which she thought would be quite comfortable to kick. How enjoyable it would be to creep up behind him and kick him when he was least expecting it, and then to say: Let that be a lesson! That was all one would have to say, but it would be a blow for women everywhere. "
― Alexander McCall Smith , The Kalahari Typing School for Men (No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency #4)
9
" Oh my god.”
He didn’t turn or say anything even though the frustration in Honor’s voice made it difficult.
“My pants are stuck. I don’t think I can get them off without some help. Jesus, wet jeans are heavy and uncooperative.”
A grin stretched across his face. “You want my help?”
She let out a deep breath. “Yes, but you have to close your eyes.”
“You going commando tonight?” he teased.
“No, but…”
He shut his eyes and turned. She took his outstretched hand and tugged him down to the ground. Once there, she helped him latch on to the bunched up denim at her thighs, he guessed. Do not peek, Bishop. Do not peek.
“But?”
“My panties are white and now see-through and there’s not a lot to them.”
“Gotcha.” There wasn’t a red-blooded man alive who wouldn’t peek. “Let’s get these off you.” He pulled, she pushed and wiggled, and he got the pants to her feet in no time.
“Thank you,” she said, a little out of breath.
“No problem.”
“Bryce!”
“What?” Christ, she had sexy legs, and the barely-there material at their juncture left little to the imagination, so his thoughts leaped to about a dozen dirty scenarios.
“Your eyes are open! "
― Robin Bielman , Blame it on the Kiss (Kisses in the Sand, #2)