That's not exactly what I meant when I said things did get worse,Francine called her regular babysitter, Kill me, just kill me please.Cathy and I were...put into some of her nighties, as you probably guessed,gowns. We were sitting together in a big arm chair when the sixteen yearold babysitter arrived. Her name was Agnes. She was told that ourbedtime was ten o'clock.When our moms kissed us good night and told us to be good girls forAgnes I could see a big "Gotcha" smile on her face.About this. If that doesn't scream 'touch me,' I don't know what does." You don't understand Vee. You look to beautiful. To delicate. Like you would break from my touch." Here, let have your hand," Vee said and put hers out for mine.Cautiously, I stuck my shaking hand out and put it in Vee's extended one. Vee took my nervous hand and positioned it right over one of her breasts. In instinct, I cupped the softness of her small protrusion. Her skin felt like velvet. The warmth of her breast passed into my. More

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