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From: vickietern@aol.com (VickieTern)
Subject: {ASSM} Charlotte's Niece by Pamela Chapter 18 TG femdom
Date: Sun, 30 Jun 2002 15:10:04 -0400
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If you shouldn't read this, don't.

Earlier chapters can be found pre-assembled in www.fictionmania.com
under Pamela's name.


Charlotte's Niece

by Pamela  (pamelapamela@hotmail.com)

Chapter 18

I continued skipping around the room looking back at Linda. I nearly  
collided with Sandy and finally stopped and stood still looking at Linda 
from across the room. I walked slowly toward her while she steadily gazed at 
me.  The music stopped and the girls glided to a halt and Mrs. Williamson 
dismissed them. They raced to the door chattering loudly.  I wondered if I'd 
ever be able to find my clothes again after the storm of girls hit the 
dressing room. I nervously  fiddled with the skirt of my tutu, first pushing 
the stiff fabric down, then grabbing it and pulling it up.

"Aren't you precious, Greg. Such a pretty tutu!" Linda said in a  syrupy 
tone.

"I'm not Greg, I'm Vickie!" I said in a whisper, looking to see if anyone 
had heard Linda, "Please?"

"All your talk about experimenting and really being a boy. A lot of 
baloney!"

Linda was upset and talking too loudly, I had never seen her look so 
beautiful. Her figure in the leotard  was close to perfection.

"I can understand that you hate me, Linda. And I wish that somehow I could 
be Greg. But I can't. I'm Vickie. Greg is gone now. I'm afraid, Aunt 
Charlotte..."

Linda looked at me sadly. "You're afraid what? That you've become gay?"

"That wasn't what I was going to say. I don't think I'm gay. I don't know 
what I am. I'm afraid that Aunt Charlotte and I agree that its best that I 
be Vickie."

"Charlotte again. Everything revolves around Charlotte. What do YOU want?"

"I would like to be your girl friend, if I could.  Aunt Charlotte says 
you're too old for me to play with, but maybe she won't mind."

"That's so stupid, and insulting." Linda turned away and made as if to start 
doing a warm up exercise on the barre. As an afterthought she said, "I know 
it all revolves around Charlotte. You're just her little toy. She turned you 
into a girl. Its scary and disgusting."

"She's not like that!" I said.

"If not, then you'll come by my apartment."

"I could come as Vickie?"

"What in a tutu? In Charlotte's girdle? What other silly costume?"

"I'd wear a dress. Charlotte only wants me..." I stopped short realizing 
that it was not what Linda would want to hear.

"Charlotte only allows you to wear dresses?"

"Not allows, I guess,  Charlotte has never really said I can't wear jeans. 
Its just that Vickie, I mean me, is the kind of girl who prefers dresses and 
skirts."

"So I have to introduce you to my parents as Vickie? Wearing a dress?"

"I'm sorry Linda."

Linda thought for a moment. "Who knows, maybe Greg can return under a little 
coaxing."

I didn't know exactly what that meant. But the thought crossed my mind that 
it might be something that I should hope for.

Mrs. Williamson came over to us. "I didn't know you knew Linda," she said.

"She lives in the same building as my Aunt Charlotte, and we became 
friends."

"I'm so glad. Linda is one of our great stars."

"Don't tease me Marion," Linda said.

Mrs Williamson smiled at her and then her face turned more serious and she 
said, "Vickie here made quite a debut today. Not only does she dress like a 
prima ballerina, she shows natural talent.  She should be dancing everyday. 
In no time she'll be in our best classes."

I saw Linda looking at Mrs. Williamson as if she were crazy. Still, I 
blushed scarlet. "Mrs. Williamson how could that possibly be true.  I felt 
like a dinosaur dancing today."

"You need to have confidence," Mrs. Williamson said, "you have to believe in 
yourself."

"Its just that the other girls were younger."

"There is no such thing as a modest ballerina," Mrs. Williamson said. "To go 
out on stage in front of thousands and balance on pointe takes courage, 
fearlessness and supreme self-confidence. I think I'll have to beat that 
into you!"

"Mrs. Williamson..."

"Now go on to the locker room and change" she cut me off.  "Class must 
begin!"

Linda and I exchanged parting glances, and I hoped that my eyes communicated 
that I was glad that she had kept my secret.

**********************************

In the dressing room, chaos reigned like I had thought it would. I had to 
squeeze my way through the twenty girls squirming out of their leotards and 
into their shorts, skirts and tops. I held my stiff skirt up against me as 
best I could, lest it get caught on someone.  It was so difficult to move 
through the girls, that  I had to laugh, and the girls around me laughed 
too. It was like a Marx brothers movie  as I inched step by step to where I 
had left my dress.  I noticed that only some of the girls were wearing bras. 
  I felt selfconscious  wearing a padded bra that me seem so much more 
endowed.   Girls bumped me with their arms and banged into me as they hopped 
into their shorts.

When I finally got to my corner I saw that Jessica was changing there.  My 
dress was where  I had left it, though it had been tussled up.

"I didn't know that you know Linda?" Jessica said.

"Yes, she lives in my building.

"She's a great dancer. Sometimes she teaches our class!"

"Really?"

"Yeah, when Mrs. Williamson is busy."

Jessica was wearing white panties and a tiny wisp of a white bra.  Looking 
around, I saw that most of the girls just wore plain white panties. With 
some trepidation I slipped out of the tutu exposing my ruffly panties and 
padded bra.  It looked to me like all eyes were gazing at me.

"Gosh those are pretty panties!"   Jessica said.

"Thanks," I said.

"As my mom would say, you really like the frou-frou!"

I blushed.

********************************

When I got back to the apartment Ethel was getting ready to leave for her 
trip.  She asked me how the class went, and I told her that I had loved it. 
The girls
were nice, but they were kind of young for me. She didn't seem perturbed by 
that and I just let it go.

Ethel was anxious to tell me what I needed to know about fixing dinner for 
Charlotte and for taking care of the apartment. The dinner that night was 
shrimp fettuccine, which I thought was too ambitious for me to prepare 
correctly, but Ethel had done most of the preparations, and I would only 
have to steam the shrimp, make the pasta and combine them with a sauce she 
had already made. Besides that was the salad that I would make myself.

At 5 O'clock Ethel left and I felt more than a twinge of sadness at the 
thought that she wouldn't be around for a few days.   I couldn't dispel from 
my mind the recent memories of Charlotte whipping, and hurting me and 
humiliating and embarrassing me.  But I was determined that as long as I 
believed I was Vickie that I would be safe.  She would never hit a girl - 
particularly her own niece. There was some predictability in that.

With time on my hands, I took a bubble bath, and when I got out of the tub 
feeling relaxed and smelling pretty, I realized that I didn't want to put on 
the bra and panties I had worn while dancing, since they were sweaty. But 
Charlotte hadn't left out clean  underwear for me and I was in a quandary as 
to what I should do.  If I put on the dirty underwear she could very well 
yell at me for being dumb. But if I put on clean underwear she could yell at 
me for defying her.  I decided that a way out of the dilemma was to put on 
my nightie and wait until Charlotte came home to find out what bra I should 
wear. So I put on one of my pink nighties and the fluffy pink slippers and 
went to the kitchen and made the salad. Then I sat down in the living room 
to wait for Charlotte's return.

I opened up one of her lingerie magazines and went to the table of contents, 
looking for an interesting article to read. "Making the most of your bra,"  
"What is too much lift?,"  "24/7 bras," "Lace, lace, lace," and "Bra and 
panty envy."  The last of these  raised my curiosity and I opened to the 
article.  It was about little girls envying their older sister's bras and 
panties, or about girls who weren't yet wearing bras being envious of those 
who did, and how it caused tension in  girls locker rooms. The topic was so 
close to my questions of Ethel that I couldn't help but chuckle to myself.  
According to the article, since the end of the "burn the bra" decade in the 
1970s, girls have been wearing bras  at younger and younger ages. It was the 
inevitable result of bra envy. While it was good for the manufacturers, it 
was not necessarily good for little girls. Just because your older sister 
wears a bra, doesn't mean you have to. Your day will come soon enough. You 
can be just as feminine as any girl even without wearing a bra. Just another 
unfortunate consequence of the age of instant gratification.  I read on the  
last page of the article:  little boys can also suffer from bra envy. 
Perhaps they see mom and dad's attention devoted to their older sisters 
developing bust, and they find themselves envying big sis. They  may also 
spend a lot of time with mom as she gets dressed and they want to be like 
her. Particularly if they have her all to themselves during the day and 
after school before dad gets home. The treatment is the same for boys as 
girls.  It is important to be firm but gentle. You don't want to hurt his 
self-esteem. Make it clear that bras are for older girls who need  to 
protect their breasts, and that boys are lucky since they do not have 
breasts that need to be protected.  If he continues to  suffer from bra 
envy, you can do the same as with a younger sister. Buy him a pretty bra but 
only if he agrees to play with it following your rules. For example, he 
should only wear his bra when dad is at work and only in the house or yard. 
Not when he plays with his boy friends; only with his own or his sister's 
girl friends.  This will help teach him responsibility and the virtues of 
compromise and self-control.

The summer that Lei got her first bra, I must have developed bra envy. Then 
it was reinforced every time Charlotte visited and gave Lei a new bra or 
panty. If only my mom had known the truth. She could have gotten me my own 
bra to play with and then I'd probably had an answer when Charlotte made 
me.....  When Charlotte made me what? What had Charlotte done?  I wasn't 
sure if Charlotte had made me buy panties and then become Vickie, or if I 
had done it by myself because I was under the spell of bra envy.

I heard the key enter the front door lock  and I jumped up and ran to greet 
Charlotte.  She came in bustling with energy and an outdoorsy smell.  I 
stood expectantly next to her and then excitedly gave her a kiss on the 
cheek.

Charlotte  said, "why are you in your nightie?"

"I came back from ballet class, which I really really loved and I had been 
all sweaty, and then after Aunt Ethel left, I took a bath and then I knew 
you wouldn't want me to put on my sweaty bra and panty, but you hadn't left 
out a clean one and I didn't know what one you wanted me to wear. So I put 
on my nightie!!"

"Well I suppose in this situation it is OK if you pick any of your bras and 
panties to wear," Charlotte said.

"I wasn't sure Aunt Charlotte, and I didn't want to be too forward!"

"Yes I can see that picking out a bra for yourself is a daunting task. 
Perhaps you are too young for that. Here let me find you a bra and panty." 
There was a trace of sarcasm in her voice.

I followed Charlotte to my room where she proceeded to open up a dresser 
drawer and pick out a bra and panty for me.

"I want you fluffy tonight. Put  on your white petticoat and the  pink skirt 
and the white peasant top. You know which ones I mean?"

"I think so!"

"Good, but before you go, I'll  have my  martini! And take care of my 
shoes!"

"Of course, Aunt Charlotte!"

We went back to the living room and Charlotte sat in her usual seat and I 
knelt down and took her shoes off her stockinged feet and carried  them to 
just inside the door of her room. I then went to the bar and mixed her a 
martini and brought it to her.

"Now run along now and get dressed."

I went back to my room and put on the bra and panties she had selected and  
took out the petticoat, skirt and top that she had referred to. I was not 
sure if they were what she wanted so I ran back to her  wearing only the bra 
and panty  and showed her the clothes. "Is this the petticoat and skirt you 
wanted me to wear?"

"Yes dear, but you'll have to wear an  apron so you don't get them dirty. 
And you'll have  to put on stockings."  As I ran back to my room she called 
to me, "how long until dinner?"

I stopped and said, "when the bell goes off, Aunt Charlotte, in just a few 
minutes!"

I continued on my way  back to my room and got dressed. First I put on 
stockings and then pulled the soft white petticoat up to my waist followed 
by the pink skirt with an elastic waist which I placed over my head and slid 
down over my bust and down to my hips and spread the skirt evenly over the 
petticoat. I put on the blouse and tucked it into my skirt. I could hear the 
buzzer going off in the kitchen and I ran to the mirror, looked myself over 
and ran back out to the kitchen.  "Sorry, Aunt Charlotte!"

I turned off the oven and took out the dish with shrimp and pasta.  I put on 
my apron, and then  went  back out to the living room."Aunt Charlotte, 
dinner will be served!"

******************************

After I had cleaned up the dishes and table, Charlotte asked me sit with her 
in the living room. It was eerily quiet, just the two of us together, 
sitting side by side with the occasional sound of a bus or car horn outside 
and the ticking of the clock in the dining room.

Charlotte put her arm across my front and rested her hand in my lap,  and I 
turned to look at her.

"Yes, I like my Vickie fluffy," Charlotte said, "you look good."

"Thank you, Aunt Charlotte," I said.

"There are two types of girls in the world. Those who are fluffy and those 
who are not."

Full well knowing the answer, I said, "you're not fluffy, are you, Aunt 
Charlotte?"

"Of course, not. Obviously, Ethel, Lillian, Lei, none of us are fluffy, only 
you!"

"There aren't many girls who are fluffy?"

"There used to be a lot more, particularly girls who wanted to be feminine 
to please men. Now girls are a lot smarter than that"

"Do you think I'm dumb, Aunt Charlotte?"

"You're not dumb dumb, but you aren't the kind of girl who can think for 
herself."

"I like math, Aunt Charlotte!"

"Not not as much as a pretty petticoat and skirt.  Mathematicians don't 
worry about having a large bust and showing it off. And they don't fall into 
a quandary worrying about which bra they should wear."

Her words stung me, and I thought about what I could say in my defense.  
Finally, I said, "I do love this skirt, Aunt Charlotte.  I thought you would 
be mad at me for picking out a bra on my own."  I felt tears coming on and 
stopped talking.  I sat up tall in the seat and adjusted my skirt and 
smoothed down the petticoat underneath.

"Don't worry about it, Vickie.  Some girls are meant to give, and that can 
be a full time job. Other girls are meant to be taken care of by girls like 
you. You have to learn to listen to them to find out what they want from 
you."

"Is it better to be a girl who gives, Aunt Charlotte?"

"Neither is better than the other, as long as you understand which side you 
belong to."

"I'm a giver aren't I?"

"I saw that in you from the start. I'm glad you're seeing yourself for what 
you are."

"What can I give you, besides making you a martini and dinner?"

"Just being a fine girl is a good start. But there are many other things."

"Like what, Aunt Charlotte?"

"You'll have to be taught.  For example, how to be affectionate. How to give 
love and to  make  another person feel cared for. Do you want to learn?"

"I should, shouldn't I?", Aunt Charlotte?"

"Either you do or your don't."

"I do, Aunt Charlotte."

"OK. I think you're old enough to understand."

"Is it something only grown up women can know?" I let out a yawn and muffled 
it with my hand.

Charlotte smiled. "You must be very tired, what with your dancing and 
everything."

"I guess I am sleepy."

"Do you want to lie down  on the sofa with your head in my lap."

"Really?"

"Yes really, now go on, do it!"

I did as she said.  I lay fully extended with my skirt and petticoat 
gathered neatly under and around my hips and my head resting on Charlotte's 
lap. Looming over me were her breasts encased in bra, slip and white blouse, 
just like in the cab ride. Charlotte was sitting up erect and her face was 
partially hidden from my view by her right breast.

"Comfortable?" Charlotte said.

"And how, Aunt Charlotte!"

"Lets play a game."

"What sort of game?"

"Its called 5 answers. I'll ask a question and you have to give me five 
answers. Want to play?"

"Sure, Aunt Charlotte!"

"Good. So I'll go first. Tell me five things you love about me."

"Oh!" I said caught by surprise. I guess I had been thinking the questions 
would be about whales or something like that.

"Can't answer it?" Charlotte said.

"Of course, I can, Aunt Charlotte. What I love about you.  Well, I love how 
beautiful you are, your hair and face and everything."

Charlotte was looking down at me.  I wanted to say I loved her breasts but 
decided I had better not.  "And I love how nice you are to me, and that you 
have given me a nice place to live.  That's three, just two more."  I 
scrunched up my face in thought.  "I love you for getting me a pretty dress 
yesterday and the bras and panties." I looked up at Charlotte's face, she 
was now looking across the room.  Her breasts seemed so inviting. I thought 
of touching them, and then suddenly realized how that kind of thinking could 
get me severely beaten, if not thrown out of the apartment.

"One more," Charlotte said.

"I love you for, for..." I was stuck and I knew it and then I blurted out, 
"for making me Vickie."

I saw Charlotte smile.  "Very nice answers honey. Now  your turn to ask a 
question."

"Could you tell me five things that you love about me?"

"Are you sure you want that question?" Charlotte said.

"Is it a bad question, Aunt Charlotte?"

Charlotte laughed. "Is that your question?"

"Yes, Aunt Charlotte."

"OK. What I love about Vickie. I love your weakness. I love your dependence. 
I love your helplessness. I love your devotion. I love you for worshiping 
me."

I was so shocked I couldn't speak.

"You asked the question," Charlotte said. "Part of the game is you have to 
be willing to hear the answer."

"But, Aunt Charlotte?"

"Yes?"

I felt like I should get up from where I was, but as soon as I started to 
move Charlotte said, "stay."

"Now its my turn again," Charlotte said.  "What do you think about my 
vagina?"

"I'm embarrassed Aunt Charlotte!"  The direction the game had gone was 
frightening.

"Answer the question."

"I guess I love your vagina.  I respect it."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know, Aunt Charlotte."

"You have to answer truthfully and intelligibly."

"I'm sorry, Aunt Charlotte."

"Go on."

"I love knowing you wear pretty panties. I mean that your vagina is in the 
pretty panties."

I racked my brain trying to think of something. "And I love that I got to 
wear your girdle. The same girdle which you wore and that must have held 
your vagina."

"That's three," Charlotte said.

"Let me see. I love worshiping your vagina. I wish I had your vagina."

"Good, good, Vickie. One more."

"I can't wait to kiss it again tomorrow morning!"

"See how fun the game is. Now its your turn again."

I could not think of anything to say.  Finally, I tried, "how can I make you 
happy?"

"Good question, Vickie. Let me think for a minute."

Charlotte rearranged her position a little on the sofa, and as she did so 
she held my head and lifted it slightly so it brushed against her breast.

"Well, one way to make me happy..."  Charlotte drifted off into a reverie. 
After a minute or two she began unbuttoning her blouse from the top button 
down and then pulled the lower part of her blouse out of her skirt, and 
undid the last couple of buttons.   Then she leaned forward and took off the 
blouse so she was now just in her slip and bra.  Wordlessly, she pulled the 
straps of her slip off her shoulders and then pulled the slip down around 
her hips.  I smelled a floral scent which must come from her dresser drawer 
sachet.  I continued looking up at her face and then stared  at the 
massiveness of her filled out bra, suspended inches from my face.

"You can give me pleasure. That's the first way a girl giver can give."

"Yes, Aunt Charlotte."

"Do you want to give me pleasure?"

"Yes, Aunt Charlotte."

"If I take off my bra, will you suckle me gently?"

"Yes, I will  Aunt Charlotte."

"Its a form of giving."

"Yes, Aunt Charlotte."  I examined every detail of her white bra. As she 
bantered with me, it seemed like her nipples grew increasingly distinct 
behind the fabric.  They poked at the material now.

"So you are truly a giver?" she said.

"Yes, Aunt Charlotte."

"Good, now I'll let you give."  Charlotte reached behind her back and 
unfastened her bra, and I watched as her breasts first rose with the bra and 
then fell back against her chest as she pulled it away.

I opened my mouth expectantly as Charlotte looked down at me. She 
straightened her back and sucked in her stomach and I watched her breasts 
jut out menacingly over my head. The hard nipples pointed out invitingly.  
Her arm slid underneath my head, lifted it slightly and then held it, and 
she leaned forward slowly aiming her left nipple toward my mouth.  When it 
was just an inch away she stopped. I couldn't see anything more than her two 
breasts.

"You can suck on this gently. Very gently. Understand?"

"Yes, Aunt Charlotte."

"Good," she said.

The next thing I knew the nipple brushed against my lips and then I started 
sucking on the hard rigid warm skin. Almost immediately I tasted a few drops 
of sweet liquid and then some more every now and then.

"You are such a baby," Charlotte said. She moved her hand so it was lying on 
my skirt over my penis. Small pulses of pleasure radiated through me.

"Not so hard!" Charlotte said and I eased up on the pressure.  It seemed 
that the harder I sucked the more I could taste the sweet liquid. I felt 
intoxicated by the flavor.

"I'm sorry, Aunt Charlotte," I mumbled.

The sweet liquid came out sporadically from her breast.  Her fingers slid up 
my leg underneath my skirt and petticoat and settled again on my penis. 
Charlotte stroked it slowly.

"NOT, so hard!" Charlotte said sharply.

"I'm really sorry, Aunt Charlotte!" I said with desperation.

Charlotte pulled the breast away and moved her other one in front of my 
face.  I latched on to it and immediately felt a small flood of her milk.  
Charlotte's hand stroked my skirt as if to smooth it down.

"Gently, Vickie," Charlotte said and then let out a small moan.

I swirled my tongue over the nipple and flicked at it a couple of times.

"Suck gently," I heard Charlotte say and I obeyed her.

I was feeling serene and got lost in my thoughts.  I wished her hand would 
resume stroking over my penis.

"OUCH!" Charlotte screamed. "God damn it, I said be careful!"  She shoved my 
head away from her breast and before I could raise an arm in defense, her 
hand came down and smacked me on the cheek.  "I told you to be careful!"

I burst into tears and tried to soothe the sudden intense pain on my cheek. 
While I cried, Charlotte put her bra and slip back into place.  I was 
sobbing uncontrollably and saying I was sorry.

"You're a naughty baby!" Charlotte said with venom.  "With sharp little 
teeth!"

"I didn't mean to hurt you, Aunt Charlotte. I forgot what I was doing." My 
jaw ached so hard I wondered if Charlotte had broken it.

"You have to be a gentle nurser and pay attention to what you are doing. Or 
I won't be able to nurse you anymore.  I'll get a real wet nurse who won't 
be as patient as I!"

"I won't do it again, Aunt Charlotte, I promise."

Charlotte looked at me sternly, but I saw that her anger had passed.  
"Tomorrow we'll try it again."

"Thank you, Aunt Charlotte. I won't be bad any more."

"Its bedtime for you. Tomorrow is a big day. You start work with Agnes, 
she's running a fitting at Macy's Herald Square. I'll escort you there 
tomorrow and make sure you get off to a good start. We'll have to get up 
early."

Charlotte followed me into my bedroom, and while I was getting undressed and 
putting away the skirt and crinoline and taking off my bra, I said, "Aunt 
Charlotte, you never said how else I could make you happy."

"I'm not sure that you can make me happy, at least not the ways I was 
thinking. You're too young."

I put on my negligee and hopped onto bed and got under the cover.  "Please 
give me a second chance.  I'm sure that if I try really hard I can do 
whatever you want, Aunt Charlotte."

Charlotte sat on the edge of the bed.  "You have to believe that my pleasure 
is the most important thing in your life. If you felt that way, you wouldn't 
have bit down on my nipple.  Your pleasure has to come from giving me 
pleasure."

"It makes me happy to give you pleasure, Aunt Charlotte. It make me happy to 
make you happy."

"Is there anything more important in your life than my pleasure?"

"No, Aunt Charlotte."

"What about mathematics?"

"No, Aunt Charlotte."

"Linda?"

"No, Aunt Charlotte."

"Really, nothing else?"

"No, Aunt Charlotte."

"Your mom and dad?"

Like a hot poker going through my heart I thought of them.  Charlotte 
scrutinized me and I saw the beginning of a smirk in her lips.

"No, Aunt Charlotte. You're happiness is more important. Its most important 
to me!"  I wanted desperately to cry again, but I managed to hold it off.

"I do believe you are sincere Vickie. So I will tell you one way to make me 
happy."

"Thank you Aunt Charlotte."

"You will be my little vagina princess."

"What does that mean, Aunt Charlotte?"

"I'll tell you. You'll be in charge of the vaginas in the apartment. The 
ones belonging to whatever women are here.  It will be your responsibility 
to take care of their needs."

I wondered what the needs could be, and as if reading my thoughts she said,  
"There are three needs.  One is pleasure, and I'll teach you how to give 
pleasure to a vagina. The second  is as the source of new life, and I'll 
show you how to make sure that a vagina is comfortable during its monthly 
menses.  The third is not glamorous, but it is necessary. A vagina is from 
whence women pee and you'll have to make sure that it is kept clean."

I was entirely confused. It was not remotely what I was thinking.  "I don't 
see how I would know when or how to do anything, Aunt Charlotte," I said.

"No need to worry. Any woman who wants your services will raise a finger to 
you. One digit means you give pleasure, two means that you'll help them 
change their tampon or pad, and three means that you'll accompany them to 
the bathroom, where you'll help clean them up after they go."

My eyes widened at this last remark and Charlotte added, "you are strictly 
the princess of vaginas. Nothing else."

I wanted Charlotte to explain to me how this gave her pleasure, but I kept 
silent.  She knew more than I did. That was clear. I supposed I was lucky. 
If I tried to do each job well, she'd probably be very kind to me.  The 
thought of seeing so many vaginas was not an unpleasant thought, and this is 
the one I held onto as I fell asleep.

End of Chapter 18

VickieTern@AOL.COM

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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