‘You can’t possibly do this,’ Becky raged at me. She had obviously exhausted that argument with her mother. ‘I … I don’t even know you,’...she spluttered. I kept up a cold front, ‘You’ll get to know me from across my knee, young lady,’ I said severely. ‘You’ll learn you can’t mess around with me.’ Becky was every inch the arrogant teenager. She had discarded the pink jumper to reveal a white T-shirt with some silly slogan across her quite ample breasts. Two inches of bare midriff separated it. She wanted to stay with me in my room. I did not object, but told her that there was only one bed. She did not care; she wanted to sleep next to me. I was in heaven. She was excited to be in Paris and staying with a man she cared deeply about. The best part was someone else was paying for the whole thing. It was like winning an all expense paid vacation honeymoon. Shelley unpacked her clothes and I took the materials she brought aside. When she was done she turned to me. “Would you like to. More

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