She crushed your ego in front of the cheerleaders back then and now she’s going to destroy you again – unless you can prove to cruel Princess Rhianna, the dom prom queen of your sticky wet dreams, that you’re no longer a snot-nosed, stammering little geek with a stubby pencil poking up in your pants and a Rhianna worship shrine in your room. So what will it be? Are you a man or still just a panty-sniffing, Rhianna-wanna-be worship stroker? Huh, dork?
