I hated the way I looked. Every thing about me, I hated. The way I looked and the way I lived. I was smothered in my parent’s money and negligence. ...hey’re weren’t so much my parents as they were wardens of my house. Oh, don’t get me started on my house. It was their throne of glory. Glory of how much money they had. It was a dream house, the kind people walk through and dreamed about. Three stories, clean carpets, newly painted walls, a confusing lay out that would get Christopher Colombus. I got up onto my forearms and saw the number 400. I understood and said yes, and started to get up to go and get my wallet when she smiled, motioned me to stay, reached over my pile of clothes, rifled through and found my wallet and extracted the payment. She smiled again, leaned down and kissed my lips again, and I noticed her perfume for the first time. She then stood up, still straddling me. I was at this time leaning forward on watched as she above me removed first her top, which she threw. More

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