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I felt the cold air strike my bare flesh between my legs, f0rcing me to hurry to slip on the clean pair of underwear my uncle had given me. I stumbled to get one more leg through the leg holes, and then the other before quickly yanking them up to my waist to protect my crotch. Uncle J still didn’t release the flap of my skirt, holding it high so that he could peer at my rubber duck panties and petite thighs. ‘Wait a minute,’ he said playfully. ‘Something is wrong here.’ I had no idea what he wanted next, but it was tortuous to learn that he was not done toying with me. ‘Something is missing,’ he continued while holding my skirt up. ‘Ah yes! I know what it is!’ Emboldened, he took his free hand and ran its fingers below the waistband of my panties, yanking them down and outward again so that they stretched below far enough to expose my young vulva once more. ‘This pair is clean. We need to remedy this,’ he proclaimed. He passed my lifted skirt off to me, giving me an adamant look that. Gerrrard’s fine collection of antique pistols which hung on his living room wall, quite a collection and obviously worth a few bob.Early Friday afternoon Mr. Gerrard returned from work, he had a good look around the place, packed his cases into his car and then came to me. “Your work is good but not excellent” he informed me. “ I only pay for excellence so you are dismissed”. I couldn’t believe my ears, I had grafted like a dog all week to be paid nothing! I argued with Mr. Gerrard but to no avail and he insisted I leave his premises immediately. Tail between my legs I left.I went home raging mad. How the hell was I going to get him back? I pondered for a while and then remembered I hadn’t fixed his patio door lock. Now I am not by any means a thief but I planned to get into his house, steal a couple of his pistols, just enough to make up for the money he owed me. I hatched my plan. I waited until it was dark, put on my black jeans, black socks, found my black balaclava, which I wore.
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