I was wary of the other girls and stayed as far from them as I could. I lurked in the dark, watching the cars go by, a few slowedbut didn’t stop. Th... girls I saw were dressed simply or tarty, it most looked unwell, many thin and I really stood out as the middle class woman I am. I had never thought that for many working on the street is the shit end of a spectrum with high class 5* hotel escorts. All trying to make a living. But I was not doing it for the money, but because it excited me, it. " Look," I said, "I want you to treat me as normal in the pool. The usualfun. No going soft on me. Except... don't touch me here" I pointed at thelittle half golf balls on my chest, "They're really, really sensitive. Ithink it's because they're still growing."And that was it. We jumped in the pool and horsed around like the olddays. I was thankful that I was still hollering like a boy instead of thestereotypical "girly screams." Fortunately my boobs, if you could callthem that, were small. Dad split a few years ago for a barely-out-of-high school bimbo he knocked up. Mom got the house in the settlement- a beautiful place with a secluded swimming pool.One day after a hard practice, I came home, hot, sweaty, and had half of the infield on me. I took off my uniform and put it in the washer and started it. I went to the bathroom naked, as Mom wouldn't be home until 6:30 anyway. I took a nice long hot shower, sending the infield down the drain. I got out, grabbed a towel, and headed. By the end of the evening, I knew it was better to file than cut,and if you want them to look really good, buff them and push thecuticles back. I thanked her and admired them, because they had neverlooked so good.The next thing I did was to look through my clothes and found a T-shirtthat I had forgotten about. It was plain white but had been put to theback because I had grown out of it, but now I was not looking for baggyand slipped it on and found it fit quite snugly. It only just made it.