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CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!At first she has her head turned away from me but now it is towards me and her face is red and tears stream down her cheeks.CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!I have told her that she would not be able to sit down for a while and I'm determined to make sure that this is the case.CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!Vanessa howls and screams, I have not decided on exactly how many lashes to give her but her arse and tops of her thighs are now bright red.CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!I determine that that's enough, so without speaking, I put the belt back in the wardrobe and leave the room with my soundly thrashed wife crying into the bedclothes.I feet that I have dealt with her appropriately and that, to my mind, is the end of the matter.I really want to go and cuddle her but decide that I will go into the spare bedroom and await developments because I am. Drawing it wasn't as cathartic asshe'd hoped."I... can't get the picture out of my head." Cindy, you drew this many times when you were fifteen. When you firststarted having seizures."It was the first time, and the last, Wendy used her daughter's name onQuiz. The name dove into Quiz's head and buried itself in her mind.The red dinosaur peeked over a fold of the brain and glaredmalevolently at the name. Quiz put a hand over her eyes.She took the sketch pad out of Wendy's hand, put it in her purse, andzipped and snapped it closed. She picked up her fork and didn't lookat the woman who wasn't her mother.The girl in the mirror was, frankly, plain; the white bra and pantieswere straight out of a Sears catalogue, totally girl-next-door. Itfelt naked, private, as if the world outside didn't exist until she putsomething on over the white. 'I'll bet I would have this feeling allday if I wore this under my clothes,' she thought, smiling. 'I'll betLaine does.' She turned one way, then.
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I had no idea what to expect, but I sure didn't plan on Chuck having a big smile as he asked me in. I had hoped, and really wanted, for him to be ashamed, hurt, and angry. Either he was a great actor, or he really was quite happy. It made no sense."Millie?" he called. "Your date is here!" Would you like a beer while you wait, Paul?" he asked.I shook my head as I tried to understand what was happening. Why wasn't he ashamed, or pissed? I began to dread meeting his wife. What horrible mistake had I made? How bad would she be?Then she came into the room. I felt immediately relief when I saw her. She was short, slim, and pale, just as Bill had described. She was also wearing a long dress with a high neck. Her dark hair was pulled back into a bun of some sort. It was impossible to determine anything about her breasts with her loose fitting clothes. She was no Miss America, but at least she wasn't some horrible pig!"Hello, Mr. Jensen. I am Millie," she introduced herself.I could see that.

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