The sponge rubbed away the remnants and half dissolved hairs.The sensitive parts of my skin were sore. She dragged me out of the shower with a smirk."...hat was that for?" I said."What was that for Mistress," she said grabbing my nipple and twisting it.I grimaced but it didn't hurt that much."What was that for Mistress?" I said, like a smartass."I can't stand hairy girls Lisa," she said, her smirk returning."I'm not a girl," I said."Really Lisa? Is Lisa a boy's name?" Uh, my name's not Lisa. I suppose it was just the fact that she and Ihad built the tree house with only a bit of help from old Ben Jones thegardener. Living in the tree house had become second nature to us. BenJones was the nearest thing I had to a male role model even though hewas as old as, well as old as granny. Also he only came twice a week sothere wasn't much masculine input into my childhood after daddy died.At breakfast nobody asked about Judith and I sharing my bed and we letthe subject lie. On the bus we sat. More

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