I started putting on some clothes. There was no turning back. I wasalready looking like a girl. I just had to complete the outfit and lookhalf-decent....I put on the first skirt I saw. Unfortunate because it wasa short, tight little number. Then I put on my sister's sweater, whichwas big and floppy around the neck, but tight and fuzzy everywhere else.There wasn't time for shoes so I ran down the hall to the front door. Hestarted banging again. I collected myself, assured that he would neverknow I. It felt delicious, and dirty. “Let’s have a bit of truth time, Paisy. Do you think I’m beautiful?” Whatever questions I could have expected, this wasn’t one of them. I sputtered, unable to make up an answer. She was far from beautiful. While she didn’t have an unpleasant face, the surplus weight together with her age let her look a bit matronly, and I would never ever think about her in terms like beautiful, sexy or even pretty. But could I say that out loud? Would she be hurt? Perhaps even. More

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