'No...but I love your name. Do you look like her?' The stranger instantly replied.I instantly blushed like a tomato.'Oh.....thanks......sort of.' I ty...ed.'Really? Do tell.''That’s my nickname among my friends and family.' I replied as I turned to look at the reflection of my long legs and hour glass figure in the mirror for some sort of confirmation.'Because?' The stranger asked again.'When I was younger I looked a bit like her, even my hair. A friend of a boyfriend teased me -- calling me. We were born with it as though we had carried it along from some other life or some other place. It was colored by that same wonder with which a c***d sees its first bird in flight or the branches of a tree against the blue sky. For us it had the beauty and rightness of all natural things. Scoff if you want. It was so. I suppose Terry was about six years old when I first tied her to the apple tree at the bottom of the garden. I wondered why she did not cry. But, for both of us it was the birth. " I replied calmly. "It's in a small box glued to the underside of the step your are standing on." I was lying.Cunt bent down, keeping her eyes on me the whole time and felt for the box. "It's not here!" she exclaimed, "Where is it!" It's more towards the back.” I replied, "Reach all the way back... over on the left side."Cunt bent down and started taking quick glances under the step but would immediately look back at me. There was no way I had enough time to climb the stairs before she looked. ” he said and stopped. “Well, I am glad you got to taste my wife too. All men who have fucked my wife should form a voting bloc, I tell you. The number must be big enough to turn elections!” I said angrily. Johnny kept quiet. In a few minutes, we reached my home. Johnny parked the car in the garage and escorted me to the door. He handed me the file and the DVDs and was about to go when I said to him, “Give me directions to the farmhouse.” Johnny turned around and said, “Let it go, Sir. Just.