You can't just go around in that outfit all the time. Remember, you're in Beverly. Hills, that is. Swimming pools. Movie stars. You need something to ...ear in your pool." Aw, heck, if I want to go for a swim I don't wear nothin'. That's the best way." Well, that's not how it's done in Beverly Hills. At least not in the parts of town I go to. Here, try this one on." Miss Hathaway held up a demure one-piece suit in a rather hideous maroon. "I've got one just like it!"Elly May rejected it quickly,. No more Saturday nights out, blasted to the gills. No more weed tasting parties. Those were the best! What I remember of them, anyway.The fact is, I hated my life. I hated the man I’d married, who had singularly failed to make anything of himself. Oh sure, the kids loved him, but then what kids wouldn’t? He had a job making toys, for god’s sake. Toys! He went to college for that. I mean, seriously, he did. He has a master’s degree in child psychology, for whatever that was worth. You have any. "Oh?" The nervousness in his voice made her smile."Yeah, I did."He still wouldn't meet her gaze. "Um, Gabrielle, how did..." I found them. That's all that matters, isn't it?" Ummmm ... uh huh." He turned his head away, unable to make eye contact."And they were wonderful, Tom. It was amazing. You're such a good writer. And such imagination..."He hazarded a look at her, saw her smiling at him like the cat that just ate the canary, and cleared his throat."You know, Gabrielle, they might not have. It was December 12th, the night I turned 18. I was out at a very "ish" club in the city. My boyfriend, Justin, was dressed to the nines; a tight muscle shirt, khakis and dress shoes. He complimented on my hot pink tube top and black mini skirt. He dug my french manicured nails, and 4 inch stilleto heels too. His hands never left my waist and everything was moving along. I figured by midnight that night, he'd have me bent over begging for more as his 8 inch cock pounded my pink little pussy..