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Difficulties, from Mike.

In the car, Mom was really serious for quite a while until she finally blurted out that she would talk to Dad about my getting "that operation you had discussed."

All this bullshit and all I had to do was show her my tits? Hell, I would have walked around the house naked for a year if that was all she needed.

Well, one night shortly thereafter the old man came home, accidentally I guess, and I heard them arguing about something. Since they seldom argued (or talked or anything, how they had two kids is beyond me) it had to be about me.

The next morning Mom gave me the bad news. Dad said no. He's old fashioned. He thinks it's unnatural. It would attract the wrong type of men. What would the neighbors say if I started walking around with breasts? The church elders wouldn't let me teach Sunday School. I look so beautiful as I am.

The Porter's were big on what other people thought. Keep the family name spotless. Don't shame the family. Well, as far as I was concerned, I didn't give a rat's ass about that kind of thing. Besides, when you looked around at other families all you saw was their kids getting locked up, knocked up and fucked up. I was a saint compared to most of them.

Mom said that someday down the road, when I was not living at home and paid for everything myself, Dad had said he would permit me to go through with the operation if I wanted. Well, wasn't that sweet of him? I knew I wasn't going to win so I dropped it, although I have to admit that I was proud of Mom for actually trying to stand up for me. She was usually so Stepford about everything.

During the first semester of my junior year, one of my professors started being very friendly to me. Professor Martin was an older man, probably around sixty. He would always make a point of praising me after class, and wrote complimentary things on papers I turned in.

Well one day I was walking through the campus in my usual manner, my head down, not making eye contact with anyone, books held tight against my chest. I think there was a character on the old Saturday Night Live reruns that looked just like me. I think Gilda Radner used to play her, a total nerd. I didn't notice that Professor Martin was standing in front of me and I almost crashed into him.

"I'm sorry Nancy, I didn't mean to startle you. I thought you heard me call to you."

"Oh, I was probably daydreaming, Professor Martin. My fault."

"I was wondering if you would be interested in a part time job of sorts. I have a couple of Yorkshire Terriers who get crazy when no one is around. One of my neighbors has been complaining about the barking. I need someone to spend Friday nights at my place dogsitting, I guess that's what you would call it. If you wouldn't want to, I certainly understand, but maybe you would know someone that would be interested. I know friday nights are a big night out for you young people."

I resisted the urge to laugh at that and told Professor Martin that I would love to do it. Hey, score some points with the guy. It might make the difference between a 3.9 and a 4.0 in the end.

He sounded excited that I had agreed to do it and gave me directions to his house. I told him I would be there at 7 that friday. No more being alone on friday nights. Now I would get to listen to a couple of yapping dogs.

Friday night rolled around and I drove over to his house. It was clear on the other side of town and I got nearer I could see that this neighborhood was just as upper class as ours was, mostly huge Colonials that went for close to a million. There must be a lot of money in teaching.

As I pulled up the long two car driveway to his house, I began to get an unsettling feeling.

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