When his large, calloused hands would curl into fists and try to beat the innocence out of the tiny boy. Perhaps they started in third grade, when a h...rsey faced teacher would read to the class, after lunch, about the hundred-acre wood... and the adventures of that same bear and his friends. Her voice would gently transport her surrogate children to that far away place. A place where there was always so much to do... count all the bees in the hive... chase all the clouds from the sky. His mind. I can still remember the feel of the slipper in my hand, the weight of it as I swung it. And the noise when it connected! My brother howled with each whack. He swore afterwards it was harder than mum's. My mother gave me a tiny, complicit smile as I handed the slipper to her. 'Why don't you put it back yourself?' She said. So I took it back to the kitchen, hung it on the back of the cupboard door. When I did that, something changed. I still got the slipper regularly, but now handed it out too.. However, as most good things get better with age so have I. I'm actually comforted by the fact you asked me and I admire your honesty and concern. My temper is no longer an issue, I give you my word on that."Devon stood to refill their glasses."I'm glad to hear that because I really like you. I think you'll be a great addition to the association if you choose to continue with this." Thank you, I'm looking forward to it."The men lifted their glasses in a toast."Well, I actually have a bit of a. For a start I can wear less, no coat, no warm clothes, in fact a skimpy skirt and strappy top that covers not much more than the tops of my hold ups and my bra. I like to walk in countryside and feel the warm breeze gently ruffle my clothes and visit those areas where you know others have been when they have been a bot randy.Walking through the woods you can pick up little signs, in one place there are ropes hanging from tree branches and a rug underneath. My imagination races. Its the first.