Is it myimagination, or does she does that on purpose? Is she taunting us withthe overly feminine detail of her outfit that tomorrow will serve toeven...deepen the embarrassment of one of us?Unlike my father, I was allowed to live as a boy, and, except for thedresses I had to wear to frankly not very frequent formal visits of mymaternal grandmother, I was free to wear whatever I wanted. Yet I neverfelt quite free and my father's fate was a constant reminder that keptme in line, well into my early. As soon as I felt her curves against my fingers, I was keenly aware of her hair's minty scent. We had to press our waists tight to each other to successfully navigate her around in a semicircle. The only open table path was beside us. I realized walking the steep hill path in the cool morning had caused a bit of a sweat on my forehead. The tall woman stopped, still pressed against me, looking down, taking in my features for the first time."You're pretty short, but cute. You must be Lord Solon,". More

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