’ She said, matter of factly. Her blue yes were pretty, but vacant, like that punk rock song. ‘Isn’t that what people do?’ I asked. ‘Not l...ke you do.’ She stared at me. I stared back. Who was this woman? Some nameless broad I met in some nameless bar? Was she my wife? A girlfriend? No, not even that. She was just a girl. A companion for the evening, nothing more, probably much less. No need to explain the complexities of my thought processes to her. No need to explain what I thought about the. On Monday morning, at home, Cindy came into the kitchen for breakfast wearing the shortest skirt that I had ever seen her wear, and the skimpiest top. She lifted the front of her skirt to show me that she wore no knickers. Then she jiggled her tits to demonstrate that she wore no bra either. I hope that you like what you see, Ron, because this is how I intend to dress from now on. Im a whore. You know that Im a whore, so I dont need to hide the fact. From now on Im going to dress like a whore. More

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