I reached the end of my street and turned onto Shaw and stopped in surprise. There was a naked man and woman not ten feet in front of me. “St. Peter...s ghost,” I gasped. It was Mark, that disgusting hound dog that drove poor Louise to her wits-end, and...Anastasia from across the street. Poor Stan. He was such a nice guy, shame his wife was some sort streakin' hussy. “Stop,” Mark said and I froze. His words seemed to reach right inside me and froze my legs in place. “Hi, aren't you a pretty. I’m still full after two breakfasts.”I nodded. “Do you know where you want to go for your clothes?”Mel nodded. “I’ve got a pretty good idea where to get everything,” she said.“Then lead on.”I quickly found that Mel lacked the typical gene that made womankind need to browse extensively and return to each item at least three times before making a decision. In the first shop, one of a budget chain, she headed straight for the girls’ wear and grabbed two plain white blouses for school, then on to. More

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