As a tease I asked Resha, “What woman would that be?”“I don’t know ... some girls think a partner’s wife...” I shook my head, that would n...t happen. It would upset the whole dynamic that made the firm so productive.“It might be somebody with an office in the building,” I said casually.It took Resha a moment to catch on, there were all these old lady secretaries around, but they did not have offices, just desks that were arranged in clusters. Only one woman had an office with a door, with a. Her husband, Ralph, owed his brother some favors so couldn’t really refuse.It wasn’t the boy himself that was of concern. It was their living accommodations. They had just moved into a tiny home next to a lake and there was only one bed with little space for another. Billy would have to sleep in their bed.Ralph seemed glad to have some male companionship and insisted that the boy would be no trouble and might be helpful around the place. Wilma wasn’t so sure, especially when her husband said. “He is a kindly sort, you might get a large tip”, he concluded, smiling until I realized what he was aiming at, my dress style.I was a “Tart”, and dressed as such, on my way out to a “Lords and Tarts night”, a tongue in cheek event for teenagers, and my dress sense saw me revealing a lot of lace, tight knickers and stockings.At first dad was pessimistic about me travelling in such a fashion, but more concerned I was sending out the wrong message to any guy looking for sex, what did not know, it. Hell, yes! That had to be it. Itwas a trick mirror. A novelty item along the lines of funhouse mirrors.It had to be.There was an easy way to tell. My erection swaying before me, I hastenedfrom my study, walked down the hall to the bathroom, and got anotherheart-stopping shock as I saw, in the bathroom mirror, the same sightthat I'd beheld in the looking-glass mounted upon the wall in my study:I was a fucking blond!I happened to notice the mole at the right corner of my mouth. Theaccursed.