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Daddy largely avoided me that evening, obviously embarrassed at his reaction the night before. I did corner him long enough to explain that I needed some new clothes for school. I think he agreed to pay for whatever I bought just to end the conversation as quickly as possible.

I didn’t really mind. Ben’s admonition echoed in my mind all day, “Whenever you're at school, you better be dressed up like the fucking whore we know you are." I remembered how fucking hot I had looked dressed up like a slutty catholic school girl. Denise’s instructions and Todd’s contribution had left me aquiver. Short skirts, “not much thicker than a fucking belt”, “anything you can wear to make yourself look as slutty as possible. Fishnet stockings, skimpy halter tops, long leather boots.”

I had dressed up in the school-girl outfit again Sunday morning, picking out a pair of low heels to go with it until I could find something hotter. The skirt I settled low on my hips, low enough that I could pretend it was acceptable.