"Good, so we are starting to reach you," Jason replied as he lifted his hand off Megan. Crack, crack. She stamped again. Crack. Now her left foot came...up. Megan quickly blurted, "Ouch, I'm sorry." "That's better," he said. Crack. "Ouch," was her response along with both fists balled up tight, hitting the table. Every stroke brought the stamping of at least one foot and both of Megan's hands pounding the table. Crack. Crack, "I'm sorry," she whispered under a quiet sob. Crack. "Own, please. She was addicted to work, some would say, and would spend long hours in her office. This left her children, Amanda and her son who they had christened Liam, a name descending from my father's Irish roots, a lot of time alone while left to their own devices. It was on one such evening that I first tried on female apparel. I had spent ages in a corner of a room, apparently disinterested, while my female family did their make up, got dressed or styled their hair. I felt I became pretty good at it.. More

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