. except it was one-way. Choose your cliché: I was as transparent as glass, she could read me like a book. Those were all true, but her thinking was ...n a different plane than mine. I could love her, but her understanding of me didn't seem natural somehow.I'll never forget the night we got the call that she had a heart. I was still in her room, getting ready to leave for the night when a doctor practically burst through the door, "We have a match in New York! It'll be here in about an hour and. She nodded. "Tell me." Because I was a bad girl. I wet my pants. " I waited. She started crying again. "And I lied to mommy." That's right. Now bend over my knee." She did so reluctantly. I stroked her smooth bum. It was so soft and so white. I raised my hand, she flinched and moved her hand to cover herself. "Move your hand right now" I commanded. I was wetter than I had ever been by this time, and through her slightly parted legs, I could see that she was in the same state. With great care, I. More

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