It was Chris.‘Hey there.’ I said happily. Again, he smirked. ‘Okay what? Do you have a problem with the way I talk?’ I said angrily. He l...oked amused by my outburst. ‘No, it just makes me smile. It’s cute really.’ He smiled at me. ‘I haven’t heard an accent like yours in a long time. Brings back memories.’ ‘Well will ya please stop smirking every time I talk!?’ I said to him. ‘No, it’s fun to see you get frustrated.’ He smiled at me again.I stuck my tongue out at him and walked. My friend Steve came over that fateful Sunday. He was dressed up in plain woman’s clothing, nothing fancy, provocative, or outlandish. He introduced me to Jennifer or “Jen”. After a brief conversation about Jen, we sat down and started talking politics and its impact on LGBT. Kind of interesting that we immediately got into that, but obviously we needed to clear the air. She even commented to me how she didn’t think she could be friends with me because we were so different. That was my. He's good looking, tall, fit, well dressed, dark hair and vibrant alluring green eyes. I finish my salad and take my beer up to the bar to chat him up. I tell him where I'm from and how desperately I need to start meeting people and find a place to stay. I can tell that he finds me attractive. I catch him frequently glancing at my big perky breasts. I haven't had sex since I left Toronto, and that was over 12 hours ago! I’m looking at him with lust hungry eyes. I lean in close to him and ask. Just then, Wilma came in wearing a pale green robe and pink fluffy slippers with little bows, drying her hair with maroon towel, handing another grey towel to Chester. “Here Charles, dry yourself off, I might have another robe and you can get out of your wet clothes. Don’t want you catching cold, you know.”“Thanks, Wilma. I am kind of wet,” Chester said, pulling his wet vest away from his wet flannel shirt.“I’ll put up some hot water for coffee then see if I can find that other robe,” she said,.