Come and sit with me.’ She dressed, I naked but for my stockings and knickers, sat. We were both in deep leather armchairs facing each other. ‘Do ...ou prefer me like this or like the butch she was with yesterday?’ ‘That was you?’ ‘I do not like to be one person. Tonight I am feminine and I may be tomorrow, or in an hour I may be a dyke again.’ She sipped from a long-stemmed glass. ‘Sometimes, I am both.’ To my astonishment she placed her hand to her crotch and squeezed the dress to reveal the. I focused on her belly or on her legs, which were no less beautiful in their current position. The warmth of her foot, and the smell, unpleasant but feminine, gave an illusion of intimacy, despite her hostile behaviour. After what was probably just a few minutes but to me seemed like an hour, she switched her legs between my shoulder and my face. Shortly afterwards, she said, “If you are actually going to stay there, you might as well hold my feet up. Go ahead!” Despite the recurring alarm. More

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