As she fluffed the hair with herhand. She told me to look. I did. I was a black haired version ofFarrah Fawcett. That was my hair. I could feel the h...ir brush my neckand forehead. It felt good even on my ears. I just stared. Hell, thatwas all me. That was Cindy.I sat there stunned. For a few moments I was confused. That wasn?t me,but it was. The girl in the mirror was me, but I?m not a girl. This washow people would see me, but not me Cindy. But I was Cindy. I wasn?toverly beautiful, but I was. You've always been mine. How could that black-haired bitch come between us? What was it? The inheritance? The Bentley? The Chelsea House? Her tits were bigger?" It was never the house, the money, or the car -- but they were nice tits."Smack!"Ouch! Take it easy, Ash. I was teasing. She couldn't hold a candle to you." Oh really. Any just how could she not?" Well, let's see. That mass of golden curls that cascades halfway down your back. So completely natural that you don't have to do anything but. More

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