“Now ordinarily you wouldn’t start a house tour under the house,” she started, “but then you wouldn’t ordinarily be touring a treehouse. Pau...la, Paul, could you show us some of the features here at ground level?”“Sure thing,” the little boy chirped as he led the others forward. “Here we have a tire swing. It’s the same as any other: it hangs from a strong branch of the mango tree, a branch that isn’t supporting any part of the treehouse. The only thing that’s different is that the steel cable. I could do whatever I liked so long as I didn't leave Chrystal Heights and was contented to be a monosyllabic, big breasted, sex-crazed bimbo for the rest of my life."But you'd found a job." Yes, but I was only paid in tips. And in a town like Chrystal Heights, a quick blow job under the table doesn't get you very much since there are plenty of Hanover Honies wandering around giving it away for free while they serve their own sentences."Working for tips in a Chrystal Heights coffee house, you. Well OK, I was beingunfair. He was a decent enough guy. It wasn't his fault thateveryone who knows him admires him and he concurs. I started the car. I'd forgotten the bra, but when I lifted myarms to the steering wheel I was again conscious of the elasticclamped to my chest and the tug on one of my shoulders. I wasdetermined to pay no attention to either sensation. Marsha hadassured me that in another few hours there'd be none. I couldwait."Remember to congratulate her," my jewel of a. I carried it to the kitchen table and laid it flat. Walking toward me, she unbuttoned her coat, revealing the anticipated fashionable outfit. A loose, white satin blouse was tucked into the top of a black pencil skirt. Her dominant, precise appearance made me feel even scruffier, but it also brought on more naughty thoughts… of her in leather outfits. And a paddle. Oh boy…I stood on the other side of the table as she leaned over the painting for a closer examination. She seemed to be analyzing.