.. the best way to describe my life I guess... buying a small home and resigning myself to the fact that I was never leaving the town where I was born. I slowly became like my mother... hating change, thinking television had become to risque, conservative both morally and politically.I still remember the day old Mr Lewis told me he was selling the bank. I was depressed for days. I knew he didn't have a choice, the big banks in Chicago had extended their competitive tentacles and our bank just couldn't compete with them any more.The last day Mr Lewis worked he told me the bank was becoming a branch of First National of Chicago. He said they were sending a Manager from their home office... a Mr Tony Gabriel, but he didn't know when he would arrive. I remember thinking how I would probably hate the guy... some big city "know it all" who wouldn't know a thing about my community and probably wouldn't care to know. Just a stop off point for his "upward mobility" career within the huge. I was ready by six. Copper coloured fully fashioned nylons attached to anopen bottomed girdle, long line bra, sheer full cut panties, five inch heeledstilettos and my favourite pencil skirt and blouse. I made my make-up heavierthan usual, sluttier, bright scarlet lips with lashings of gloss, huge falseeyelashes, heavy, smoky eye-shadow...I looked back at my reflection. I lookedlike a complete tart...I don't know what had compelled me to do it. And thenails! It had taken an age and the results weren't perfect but, oh my, Iloved the way they looked. And something about the way they were physicallyattached to me, inescapably so...every time I looked at them my penis startedto swell with a mind of its own. I sat before the computer and squirmed andcrossed and uncrossed my legs as I'd never done before.At seven exactly the message flashed up on messenger'good evening Rebeka...how are you?'The rage I'd felt the night before was nowhere to be seen'I'm OK thanks' I replied.
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