As it was, her only audience was the one she wanted: Johnny, the young groundskeeper with the killer body. “Oh, Johnny?…” she called. Johnny wa... standing only a meter away clipping a shrub, sweat pasting his thin T-shirt against his chiseled chest, the bulge in his tight jeans distractingly enormous. “Yes, Mrs. Khanna?” “Come sit and have a cool drink,” she invited. “I wouldn’t want it to get out that I drive my help too hard.” Johnny poured two glasses of lemonade, perspiration dripping off. Dropping her hands to her sides, she felt tears of hopelessness coming to her eyes. She felt incredible, like a Goddess, but she didn’t want this. She wanted who she WAS, not this….this hideous abomination. This wasn’t her body, it was….somebody, or something else. Narrowing her eyes, she glared at the mirror, and for some reason wasn’t surprised that as she did so, her warm brown eyes turned almost completely black. She grit her teeth and growled at herself, “If I have all this power, I’ll be. More

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