There was no cosmopolitan seduction while sipping coffee in a sidewalk cafe, no exploited moment of emotional vulnerability. I didn’t yield to get b...ck at my husband. God, no, it wasn’t like any of that at all. Better if it had been, though, because I could rationalize the guilt.So, what happened? Byron put me on my knees. The bastard snapped his fingers and to his feet I leapt, drooling and squirming like Pavlov’s favorite in-season bitch. He smashed my suburban America decorum, loosing a. Although we got a few wolf whistles between getting out of Julia's Mum'scar and reaching the lingerie shop it appeared that no one seemed tonotice two young girls dressed as French maids shopping together. I wasstarting to feel I understood why girls often dress in similar clotheswhen they go shopping."Hi Julia," said the sales girl. "Who's your friend?" She's an exchange student," Julia lied, realising that if I did not haveto speak much the sales girl might not clock me. "She doesn't speak. More

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