I began to think he may really say no. “Be here at six, Little One.” And he hung up. Little One. The one gift he gave me verbally. A pet name,...an endearment. I spent most of the afternoon getting ready. I bathed and shaved my pussy closely. I lotioned my whole body in a light scent and I dressed in a flattering pink dress with a bra and a new pair of thongs. I painted my nails in a soft color and wore nice heels. I applied just a little make up, but I made sure to put on lipstick. On. “Sorry to disappoint, Ginge. I’m definitely the boring, straight sort but, hell, fuck who you want, I say,” was all she’d said when she had forced me into confessing my sexuality. “My uncle’s as queer as a three-eyed antelope and a bloody marvellous bloke.”Separated by different Universities, she at Cambridge, I at Bristol, we kept in touch loosely for the following few years until we both returned to our home city with our academic qualifications secured. We’d seen each other during that. More

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