There, a modest reception area with a changing room connects to the large therapy room, where I hang. There is a second door from the therapy room to ...he main body of the house. Only Mrs. Minever has the key. Thus on these quiet Saturday afternoons, I hang in naked humiliation, but with a degree of relative comfort knowing that only Mrs. Minever has access to the office.Months ago word spread throughout the neighborhood that Mrs. Minever was seeking to hire a boy for a part time cleaning. I was eight when my parents divorced and I was given into the custody of my dad because my mom's boss was not keen on having me around. My dad tried to get by, but drank himself to death in just 2 years. So at ten years of age, despite having a living parent, I was put into the juvenile care system. I bounced from one foster home to another till I was fifteen. I was a quiet boy who did well in academics but failed miserably at sports. When I was fifteen my mom was thrown out of her boyfriend's. More

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