"Her?" Jenny laughed. "She's so busy being somewhere else, she'll be late to her own funeral."

Clint chuckled. Jenny had pinned Ma Parsons down with one neat phrase.

"Have you tried talking to your mother? What's wrong with you sounds like something she'd be better equipped to handle than me."

Jenny shrugged and Clint watched the twin mounds of the girl's breasts move under her sweater. He realized suddenly that he could see the tips of her breasts expanding, pushing against her bra and sweater, and the sight made his cock stir.

Jenny, her eyes on his pants, saw the movement, and it called forth a strange, wonderful ache in her belly. Without thinking the teen-ager slid one hand down and began rubbing herself just below the waist.

Clint, excited, knew what he was going to do was wrong, but the temptation was too great. Jenny wouldn't tell anyone and no one would come here during the lunch hour.

Still rubbing her belly, Jenny sat down opposite Clint, the hem of her skirt riding up nearly to mid-thigh. Whether by accident or design she kept her legs apart. Clint could see the small white patch of her panties.

"Do you really want me to help you, Jenny?" he asked, huskily.

"Please," Jenny said softly. "I don't know what's wrong, but now my belly aches. My… my breasts do, too," she admitted, blushing slightly.

Clint smiled reassuringly. He got up and walked around behind her.

"Jenny, if you want me to, I'll make you feel a lot better," he said softly. "But if I'm going to do it right, I have to touch you."

Jenny felt a momentary flash of panic.

"Touch me?" she asked, anxiously, not daring to turn around.

Clint gently laid one hand on her shoulder. "I'll have to take your bra off and touch your breasts," he said softly.

Jenny shivered. All she wanted to do was talk, but Mr. Evans was so nice, and she felt so crazy. What could be wrong?