I took them off to see that I had now a mound of skin,divided by a slit, making me the perfect girl.The door swung open and my Dad came into the room ...itha black and white maid uniform, and his hair done intoa high bun on his head. He wouldn't let mecall him Dad, he just told me to call him Maria andnothing else, and that he was on the service of mymother that he called mistress.I survived the days, with the continuous lessons ongirlhood, on how to sit, run and dance, with theboring ballet. She slid around the kitchenette, tidying things up, setting out plates and utensils, and giving the table a homey feel. A few times as we both moved around we brushed up against each other, or outright bumped into each other, and you could feel the electricity passing back and forth. The conversation stayed light, and we joked about professors at her school, and people in the neighborhood. As we sat down to eat, she looked at me from across the table, and there was something in her eyes, some. More

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