Mr. Anderson, obviously.

"Mr. Anderson obviously," you hiss, "I'm not a girl. And I'm not gay. Not that there's anything wrong with that."

She grins delightedly. "Why, you little perv. Wanting to fuck your own mother. You should be ashamed of yourself. You must be quite a momma's boy." You start to protest, but you're a bit too loud and she puts her finger to your lips.

She glances down meaningfully at your crotch. "Maybe you should go back to your room and take care of that. Looks uncomfortable." Then she turns and walks down the hall, leaving you flustered. You shake your head in disbelief and collect yourself.