And so this is why I call you here to my bedroom. To talk. My flimsy, almost transparent nightie is barely covering anything and is bound to fall off ...y tits. You are in your silly Batman pajamas. Wondering why you are here. Trying not to stare at me. Such a gentleman. "Sit with me, baby," I say and you sit next to me, trying to look at my face but inevitably gazing down. "I wanted to talk to you about something." I imagined having this conversation with you so many times, and I thought I'd be. ‘And now you’re minding the shop for Sally,’ he was talking in a funny childish singsongy voice and it was coming across as a bit demented. ‘Is there anyone here you haven’t wormed your way in with?’ The words flew across the room like tiny, fast moving arrows. ‘Well you haven’t fooled me.’ There was a hysterical edge to it all, his voice seemed to be creeping higher as he continued and she wondered if he had been drinking. He didn’t seem drunk, he was too focused, but he was angry, very angry. More

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