He was one of my many boyfriends, and I was one of his girlfriends. A very special one, he always took care to point out. He was tall, had curly dark ...lack hair with eyes to match.... he always smelled of some very exclusive cologne. And his expensive clothes and watches, and his silver BMW, apart from ofcourse me, gave one ample proof of exclusive tastes. I had turned 17, and the thought of building a career was already haunting me. I had done some escorting already, and just loved it. Tom. I was just confused. *** (GROWTH) I was always scared of being alone. Maybe it was something to do with that whole single parent family thing. I dont know (they blame every fucking thing on broken homes these days). Whatever the reason: I know that when Mum died I just clung all the more to Byron. It was the only way I could cope. What wouldve happened if he hadnt been there for me? He probably saved my life. Or at least kept me sane. But I know now that I hung on too tightly to him. Squeezed. More

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