Redemption of a Sex Offender
August When he walked into the faculty lounge, everybody froze. He was obviously trouble, from the leather vest that passed for a shirt all they way down the tight button-fly 501s to the black motorcycle boots. And the long, tawny hair that drifted over his shoulders and down his back, held out of his face by a small braid to one side tipped with a leather thong covered in glass beads and feathers. Erica could almost smell the testosterone. Helen Crawford, head of the English department,...