The image swims into focus. But the girl is not me. As I look at her, my heart freezes, stops beating entirely. Everything before me hardens, turning ...o ice, reality slowing down. Behind me I am vaguely aware of the bathroom door creaking open. Onscreen, the girl stares back at me with her cold, superior countenance. She sits with her legs folded beneath her, wearing exquisite undergarments of black lace, perfectly tailored to her curves, cut from fabrics difficult to obtain. Though she is a. As he backed up in the doorway apologizing like crazy shutting the door as quickly as he had opened it. I rinsed my mouth and wrapped myself in my towel and hurried to my bedroom as fast as I could. Once inside my bedroom I was filled with feelings of embarrassment and at the same time a feeling of eroticism somehow. I stood in front of my full length mirror looking at myself. At 23 I was 54 and weighed 112 pounds. My breasts were the smallest of any of the woman in my family with 34A cups but. More

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