John stood up, feeling his skirt brush against his hosed-up legs. He would've moaned, had he any of that sort of energy left.
"Sarah, you okay?" He asked in a voice closer to what he normally spoke with. He leaned over the bed, curious.
Sarah's blonde hair was everywhere, and he could see tiny bits of sweat on her forehead. She was flat on the bed, one arm over her eyes, the other arm quickly moved from between her legs when he asked the question.
"Sarah?" He asked again.
She pulled her knees into her chest and curled away from John.
John paused. He looked back at the computer, feeling a guilty desire to go back at it but Sarah, his facilitator, the wonderful person who had showed him his true calling in life, needed his help. But how to help when he didn't know what was going on?
"Sarah, come on, talk to me." He said, putting a tender hand on her shoulder.
The cheerleader shook it away. "No. Leave me alone." She said. "I... I can't believe I did that! Just go away."
