You see, you can confide in me.” She smiled, her voice suddenly offering warmth and a false sense of security as she caressed his palms. “And what...sort of things do you think about when you do it?”He looked at her pleadingly as though he was begging her with his eyes to spare him the question.“Well, do you fantasise about girls? Or boys?”He looked up at her eagerly, and she understood perfectly. He was not about to let her believe that he was ‘one of those’.“Girls, Miss. Well . . . not exactly. I am not a big man, but even the loose skirt of yours was tighton me. The boots pinched so much I could hardly walk. But comfortwasn't the object. If anyone had asked me what the object was I wouldnot have been able to verbalise it, but it was as clear in my mind asthe first light of creation.Clumsily, with no trace of your ease, I put on some makeup: clumsystreaks of lipstick, thick eyeshadow and too much perfume. The perfumewas the most important part as its smell would tie you to me with. More

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