Oh all right. It's the story of how I experienced puberty in 7 minutes one thursday when I was 11. My brother and I were too old to have a babysitter but could not be trusted to take care of my little sister, therefore, there was Katya. We never found another babysitter who had respectable musical tastes.

   So, I came out of my room one day to find Katya showing the scar from an operation to my sister. I think it must've been located below her navel just above her pale blue underwear, but I don't really remember seeing the scar. I remember her pants were zipped down and that she smiled and said "It's gross, isn't it?" and there came a great dryness in my throat. Yeah, it's pretty gross. I'm going to my room.

   Where I sat at my little blue-grey writing desk in front of a mirror, in a cold sweat, and grew facial hair, like the werewolf transformation scene in a Lon Chaney movie. Katya opened the door, looked in at me, and said Are you okay?

   Yeah.

   Can I get you an aspirin?

   No. (pause) No. Get out of here. And whatever you hear, whatever happens, do not come in here. Listen to me! Do not. Don't come in here.

   Except I didn't actually say that, I said No. I'm okay. And after a long moment the door swished over the carpet and shut behind her.

That's the babysitter story, not terribly smutty, but the thread needed, well, something.