Her lurid recollections bewitched me, as they were, viewed through a lens of hard knocks, of exploitation and sex as a tool of the rich and powerful. ...��Am I keeping you from your girl?” she smiled putting out a cigarette and taking a sip of what I guessed was Pernod, served strong but very long. A jug of iced water sat on the table, two thirds empty. “A little,” I conceded. “You know, I could be your Mistress,” she said taking pains to emphasise non-verbally what that might entail, “or am I too. The next morning mom and I left together, and after we left the houseshe told me what we were going to be looking for."Stuffing your bra with those gel things might do once in a while,around here I guess, but I never intended for you to get invited out toso many places, so there isn't any doubt that we need to find somethingbetter for you." Like what?" I asked in my innocence."Like breast forms honey. Something not too expensive, yet will help youlook more natural. At a party I would assume. More

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