Either way, I think she needs resolution on whatever is bothering her.” Grandma had known pretty early on something was going on in our house, but it took four months before Miss Agnes revealed herself, in a dream. She asked us who Miss Agnes was the next day and we showed her the portrait. “That’s her,” she said. “I dreamed about her last night. We had a pretty deep conversation, mostly about you guys. She’s an interesting woman.”Knowing wasn’t accepting, and it took another few months before. Then all the hell fell upon my head. After the news Natasha in shock started giving me the silent treatment; I was the guilty one, we both had made love, but it was me who had the guilt of the pregnancy. The return to the ranch was hell; she became a statue of ice, cold, distant, no answering me when I spoke to her. All of a sudden I was reminded of her, my mother, thirteen years ago when I was a teenager, and the reasons for which I had fled my parents house and why had I not wanted to see her. Her mind raced for explanations she might use.In walked Denise. She burst into a broad smile and strolled into the office, closing the door behind her. She was dressed in a slutty costume version of a secretary's attire. Her spike heels were at lease five inches tall, and she wore black stockings held high by garters. Her skin tight black latex skirt was so short that it barely covered her ass and left a good three or four inches of bare flesh visible above the tops of the stockings. From. This is the side of me people don't see, the side of methat's alone and scared. It's the side of me that's always there whenMiss isn't around. I go like this when I get separated from her in thesupermarket even; I'm such a stupid sissy. Sat on the sofa is a boxaddressed to Miss. I know what's in it, she measured me for it. I paidfor it. It's technically mine. But I don't dare open it because it'swrong to open other peoples mail and I don't want to upset Miss aftershe's had a hard day at.
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