"But Mr. Johnson. I'm not gay. Idon't want to ?do things' with a man."He looked at me with compassion. "Now we both know that's not true,don't we, ...ommy?"I vigorously insisted on my heterosexuality.Mr. Johnson shook his head. "Tommy, Tommy. When you watched us makelove, did you imagine that you were me, gloriously fucking my wife, ormy wife, being gloriously fucked."I snapped back. "I imagined I was the man!"He looked at me as if I were the dumb kid in the class. "What about. She’s dressed for me the way I asked. White blouse, tight grey skirt, tan stockings and black high heels. Her blouse is thin enough to show her black bra underneath, and her skirt tight enough to show the outline of full back panties. She’s dressed like the women I mentally undressed and had fantasy sex with in the business meeting this morning. And of course as. But this time the undressing won’t just be mental and the sex will be real.We’re in the room she calls her boudoir. There’s a double. More

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