First let me tell you that the article won't mention you—or any of the other women I interview—by name. I am largely gathering statistics. However... the text of the article may contain a few case histories, if yours is one of them it will be sufficiently changed that no one, except you, will be able to identify the history. Is that satisfactory?" Yes, quite." Answered Lizbeth."One more matter before we begin" Dr. Frank went on, "Compensation. Upon the completion of this interview you will be. And he sheepishly told me she was twenty-four. What every woman fears – a younger woman. Insecurity raged inside me. My butt was too big. My tummy not flat enough. Too many wrinkles around my eyes.The only thing that poured out my mouth, “And she’s pretty, you said?”He nodded, “Very.”This cut me like a knife. But, why did it matter if she was pretty? Would an ugly girl have made me feel any better? Probably not. I felt almost sick.I sat lost in my thoughts for quite a while. The silence was. Things between us have always been like that with each of us taking care of the other. We make great team.We began playing basketball in a vacant lot where our folks and some neighbors put up a goal to keep us occupied and burn off excess energy giving them some peace, moved on by the time we were almost 8 to play in a pee wee league at a city gym, and by the time the two of us were 9 years old after playing together for more almost 2 years we had become a great catch, pass, run, and shoot two. ”Candice hung up the phone looking pale. She sat there shaking for a moment. She sat there until she was alone at her desk. Her hand trembled as she picked up the phone to make a call to one of her masters.“Exalted Master Stephen Augustus Stapleton, the Third. This is Slave Candice.”“What is it?”“Peter Moore called.”“He what?” Stephen shouted.“He called me here at my desk.”“When?”“Five minutes ago.”“Come up to my office, now!”Candice picked up her handbag and headed towards the elevator. She.