The director, Rod Sterling, wanted her face lit, and I was behind. He would get on my ass a little about that later. I didn't care. He was one of thos... creatives who always felt the rest of the world didn't understand them, and it was their job to educate us lesser beings. It didn't matter in the end. Art was for those people who couldn't dig ditches or light sweaty fucking people. No matter what he would say, I did my job well, and he knew it. I slipped occasionally. Three hours sleep will do. 'Why are you wearing my things?', she said. 'I just enjoy wearing them'. 'But why?' she insisted. 'Are you getting off on this?' I looked up, surprised, and saw her just looking at me. I noticed that she was wearing a soft summer dress, and strappy heels - and her hands were moving in her lap! 'Mum, I just love the feel. I feel like a gorgeous girl, when I wear your things!'. 'Do you do other things?'. 'I don't know what you mean' I mumbled. 'Come on' she said 'you're almost thirteen years old.. More

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