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I kept after my father, and my mother could see that he was weakening. She pulled me aside.“Mary,” she said—that was my name, Mary, though I tried to get people to call me Marie, it sounded so much more like a ballerina—”Mary, you have to give your father a break. We’re still paying for Kelly’s wedding, and even with scholarships there are college expenses for Wanda.”Kelly was my oldest sister, married and living in Cheyenne, Colorado, and Wanda was our middle sister, a Junior at the University of Colorado in Denver.“I understand, Momma,” I said softly, “It’s just that I want to be a dancer SO badly.”“Well, sometimes we don’t always get what we want, Mary. Do you think that your father grew up wanting to be a coal miner?”I didn’t know what to say. Like most children, I never really saw my parents as real people, just as “Mom and Dad,” doing whatever they did.“I ... I don’t know. What did he want to be?” I asked.“You know how much your father loves animals?”I nodded.“Well, he had. Eing asked to take your panties down and show your bum to an old man, while he sat behind his big oak table and jacked-off, was only one of lives experiences I was exposed to as a young girl, in my first year at boarding school.The master in question, was regarded by all girls as a 'Dirty Simpleton', don't ask me who christened him, but it suited all, especially as he had a steady stream of girls, willing to drop-them for him to wank off to.When I was first introduced to him, he sat me down and talked mainly about corporal punishment and little girls bums. He had a very unhealthy fascination for girls bums, and as he talked he clearly had an erection, all you had to do was agree and show an appreciation in his topic.
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