‘Da nada, baby!’ I answer as she giggles. When we reach the bike, she is standing there in her prim little white short shorts and tennies. Her br...asts are small, but push out against the material of her halter-top as she breathes heavily. She brushes her hair back off her neck on each side with her hands, and softly says, ‘Kiss me Michael!’ I waste no time in closing the distance between us, take her in my arms as she tiptoes up and I kiss her as passionately as I can. The kiss lasts for a. She had been just as poor as me now, and there was no help for poor mothers. I had never known my father. My mother was a hooker, and all she wished for was that I didn’t follow her down that path, having a child by an unknown father. Her dying wish has remained with me to this day. Shack girls were sometimes called waifs by superior middle class types in Grand City because to their eyes we all looked the same. We didn’t eat a lot. My old wages of five lira only really left me one. "I was just talking with my brother, Carl, about Thanksgiving weekend. He, Jackie and Glennis are going to drive over next week from LA, getting in Wednesday evening, they'll go back Sunday afternoon." Kristie's mother smiled. "You will treat Glennis better than you did last year when we went to visit them, won't you?"Cousin Glennis, the four-eyed, chubby seventh grade shrimpy mouse who couldn't stop talking about how she thinks Justin Timberlake is so sexy! You mean that lame cousin? The one. ‘a slave misses mistress so much. 2 much. ,_, but will do what mistress sez’ I wrote her one more text. ‘all good thngs 2 those who wait. im a good thng. ill c u vry soon’ o0O0o On Wednesday, I didn’t get any messages from her and I didn’t send her any. I smiled, thinking of my sweet lover learning a lesson she didn’t want to learn but had to: how to have some patience and temper her passion. Near the end of her workday, I stealthily checked out the shop where she worked. There she was. No need.