With the blouse tightly tucked in, she looked hot as hell. I gave her no relief, though. "You look more like a Sunday school teacher than a whore. You...re going to have to do better next time, cunt, or do without cock." She looked forlorn for a moment as she stared at herself in the mirror. She started playing with her displayed tits. "I'll make up for it, honey. I'll act so fucking slutty for you you'll forget." "Then get on your knees, bitch, and suck my rod." Her heavily tinted lips almost. The owner greeted us, an older Arab man wearing what looked like middle eastern clothing, he introduced himself as Mustafa. He was friendly enough and urged us to look around.My Emily asked him about belly dancing outfits and he lit up. He led us towards the back of the store. There had to be over a hundred different belly dancing outfits. My wife rifled through the outfits finding a white sheer outfit accented with gold rings around the topThe shop keeper pointed to a changing room and my wife. They were my new babysitters, Dad would honk his car horn and then I would wave goodbye to them.Arguments returned to the household and by the time I was thirteen, my parents had separated and were divorced.Unluckily, I was made to stay with Mum.I was always a Daddy’s girl, before my recent trauma; now Dad was gone.Once Mum forced Dad out of the picture, she started doing her own thing; and her inner demons were finally released.Her demons were called; Vodka and slot machines.This is where my. Wore a Bermuda and a loose shirt. “My Car has overheated.” was all I could tell him as he came forward and looked into the car.“Guess you need to wait till it cools down.” he said looking inside the car.“Yep! And my phone doesn’t have a network to call for some help.” I said as he looked at me.“Its not a problem. My home is just across the street. You can stay at my place till your car cools down or you find some help and then you can leave.” he said inviting me to his home.“I guess I don’t.