She spun away from me. ‘No, it’s not bloody all right!’ she sobbed, ‘Look around you, it’s all from you or Mum, not a bloody thing from Dad ...�� and don’t tell me that you have anything either because I know bloody different! He was never there when we needed him, but by going he forced you to be my father, I don’t want you to be my father! That’s not what I want from you….’ I was beginning to see where this was going and I definitely didn’t want to go there, but I wasn’t sure how to extricate. I got myself dressed, basque, seemed stockings and thong all in black, a very short ( probably too short ) red leather skirt, white silk blouse and a thick black belt. I'd brought myself a pair of black patent shoes with a 5 " heel, a blonde bobbed wig and my fantasy nails painted to match my lippy compleated the look.I went downstairs and fixed myself a vodka and coke and lit a ciggie to settle my nerves, I sat on one of my bar stools to watch some T.V.Several vodka's ( about 5 ish ) later I. More

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