There were just the three of us at home, Mother, sister and I, father had long disappeared. Mother worked in the fashion industry so back in the 1950.../60s/70s when there were still the classical fashions being worn daily, she was always immaculate.As I got older, I started to wear her clothes and then one day, my sister, who was supposed to be out, walked in and caught me dressed in a lovely tight skirt of mothers, tan stockings and black t-bar heels, laid back, wanking myself. I had somehow. He did back in his home village, but his k**s were on their own now. I do not know exactly how old he is, but I would say 45 to 50 based on some of the history he related. I admit I had a couple of glasses of wine that evening, for I became a little bolder. I asked him where her grew up. He hesitated and said he grew up on the border of the Congo. I kept pushing and asked if he had been involved in the extensive fighting there. He lowered his eyes, embarrassed and yes, as a young boy he had. "I unlocked my front door unsure what she was expecting of me.She walked towards me as if to follow me inside."Come in," I suggested sarcastically. "How are you?" Fine, but we have unfinished business." I built you a special room," I told her, "I was going to fetch you." Show me." she said."A torture chamber, dungeon." I continued."Show me."I lead her to the basement and unlocked what appeared to be a closet door which led to my chamber. It was warm in there, she looked around."For me?" she. Sam was soon speeding away, narrowly avoiding a lamp-post in the process and left Ellen to turn back toward her home, with a second shake of her head. Only then did she notice the bulk of a moving van parked in front of the next-door-neighbor's house and a young man, around 18, maybe 19, lugging boxes back and forth. She blanched slightly - she was used to living next to an old, private woman who never peeked out her door and an empty house on the other side. She hadn't even given rushing.