It was good. I'd get to dress up and satisfy "my man". Bob got a greatblow job, as I was getting better at it. I didn't care if he thought ofme as mal... or female. I loved the feel of my lipstick covered lips on hiscock.But it was getting a little stale and I knew it was up to me to take itto the next stage.The following week, as I was again kneeling in front of Bob, dressed in ashort denim skirt, tight pink cotton sweater, real stockings and myfavorite black heels, I looked up and asked Bob if. We had separate bedrooms and shared a living room and kitchen.Besides sharing our apartment and job, we couldn’t be more different. He was gay and flamboyant, the apartment, taking on bright colours and animal print because of it. I didn’t mind, not even when he brought home guys to play with. He was respectful and only did stuff in his room, often making quite a noise.It was shortly after my twenty-second birthday and I was feeling quite depressed. No one seemed to acknowledge that it had been. More

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