Those blue eyes looked at me and seemed to be inspecting myphysical appearance which frightened me, but somewhere gave me falsehope about the relation...hip I fantasized about. "Devin Marx, yes?" she asked, her thick, Russian accent hanging in theair. "Yes." I replied, trying to offer a friendly smile with my answer."Mr. Marx, I am Natasha Broycovich and I am here to tell you have beenchosen for Operation Sheep's Clothing. Now if you haven't noticed thatSoviet control has been weakening and soon. " she smiled in return and left us with the menu, returning a few seconds later with a wine list."Take your time choosing and when you're ready if you just raise your hand, I'll see you and come immediately!"We smiled at the none too subtle nuance and I said we'd settle for the house white."Is that ok with you Melissa, I'm not too choosey about wine?" Yes, that's fine with me," she replied, "I'm not choosey either." It's actually rather nice," the waitress said and then added softly, "But if. I knocked on the door so there were no surprises."Come in, Susie," Daddy said.I opened the door and went in. Dad was busy beating on something with a little hammer. "Hi Daddy, got a few minutes?" I was glad he was home alone. For some reason I can talk to Daddy better than I can Mom. He doesn't judge me and always keeps our talks between us. I hopped on a little stool next to the work bench.Dad looked at my legs and then up to my face. "Gotta keep those legs together, Baby. I might be your dad,. The men, mortified as always, swished into the room, holdingtheir skirts out as if preparing to sink into a deep curtsey, and shiftingthe material clockwise-counterclockwise and back again as they tookmincing steps. Their small feet were squeezed into tight shoes with threeinch heels. As they moved daintily, they fluttered their long artificiallashes and licked their brightly painted lips. They had helped each otherapply cosmetics, to make sure their rouged cheeks were bright pink andeyelids.