She wore no brassiere. Later that evening, she had second thoughts and told her mother what had happened. Her eyes never met mine, and they never left the swell of my breasts or the curve of my belly while she prepared me for the bath. The cloth floated off forgotten, and her hand traced tantalizing trails below my navel getting ever closer until it played in soft curls. The irises were a little too long to be fully human. Gisele came thunderously, grinding her molten sex against my mouth in unrestrained ecstasy. Her hand pulled on the white gate, the padlocked clanked against it. From the day I reached puberty, I've always loved cotton dresses. He bit her tongue and lips, licked at the blood like an animal. Already defeated.