I slide my hand into his andgive it a tug. "No," I say, and touch his thigh, "I want you to come with."He follows me. We have all twelveswhen the saleslady asks us if she can put the dresses in a fitting room.I wonder if the saleslady can tell I'm just a daughter. I put my arm aroundhis waist while he picks out dresses that he likes. He says that with my new breasts I'm probably a twelve. I pretend Dad and I are husband and wife.
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