I later found out this was because she wanted to wash the car. I was standing at the toilet, skirt raised and panties showing, cleaning up, when she w...alked in on me."What the hell!?" she shouted. I quickly dropped the skirt and flushed. Turning around to face her I was speechless. "Explain this, this..." she yelled."I'm sorry dear," I finally got out. "Please, let me explain." I already told you to explain, stupid! Get out of there! Well!?"I stumbled to the bed, sat down, and, while she paced. As we disappeared into the darkness an insane idea took hold of me but I went with it anyway. I led Margaret well back from the street then looked at her and whispered, “Show me your breasts.” “What!?” was her understandable response. “I want to see your breasts, Margaret. Show them to me.” She glanced up and down the alleyway. I thought she was going to tell me I was crazy and walk away but she didn’t. She was making sure we were completely alone. She retreated further into the shadow so her. The girls came home, hungry and not quite as energized as before. Looking back, I’m pretty sure they were so energized the first time because of their exhibitionism. Later, I would check to see if anything like that had happened on their second go around and nothing even came close.We ate dinner and then the girls began to change, one by one, from their dresses into what would pass for their impromptu pajamas; my t-shirts and Natalie’s sweat pants. Because of how their dresses were made, only. I am an established fashion designer in my mid forties. Alistair, my late husband, was a psychologist .he’d developed a very successful private practice. We lived in a charming Devon country home by the river Fen near Fenley in the early eighties, a beautiful unspoilt typically English village situated just three miles away from our home. Ben, my gardener and odd job man, kept everything in top notch. He knew exactly how I liked the flora. His work was impressive and, like the woman I am –.