I look down to see him unbutton my dirty white cotton blouse of old. He has exposed my firm and full breasts, naked and waiting to be touched and held. His warm hands found them, and gently cup the small roundness, but I see my own skin now, without her paleness. I quickly gasp and look back to the reflection. Her head is drawn back and her small mouth is agape in the elusive pleasure of finally feeling his touch. The window is a perfect mirror, and only a stage for ghosts