” I replied forcibly.“Why aren’t I?” She casually asked, turning to face me.“Well…” I began, almost nervous from her question. “I mean...�� you mean more than that to me.”“I’m aware I’m more than just a slut, squirt. Obama’s also more than a president. He’s a person.” She replied.“Obama?” I asked.She shrugged. “First person I could think of.”“Yeah, but a slut’s a bad thing. I-”“Why?” She interrupted.“Why is being a slut a bad thing?” I asked.“Yup.”“Well… It kind of devalues you. Like you’re just. .. uh ... do things?”She smiled. “We shall be able to enjoy making love until right before I lay my egg. Afterwards, I shall be-”“No, I mean, running, jumping, climbing. We are being chased by the bloody KKK,” I said, grinning shakily.Tjen nodded. “Yes.”“All I needed to know. Lets get dressed. We have a flying machine to catch,” I said, grinning at her – trying to seem jaunty and ready. Yanks seemed to act like they could take on the whole world, if they had the right motivation. I remembered. . so where are they now and how come you're drinking alone?" Oh their on an overnight canoe trip ... should be back tomorrow afternoon." I suddenly realized that I had told a complete stranger that I was alone for the night and was pretty much defenseless."I see."He smiled and then stood up and reached across and poured more wine into my glass but his eyes weren't on the wineglass they were rooted to the swell of my breasts. Again I felt uncomfortable by his leering but at the same time it. During that day I wore my normal clothes over the top, but underneath, the feel of the female sexy clothes kept me on fire.About 8:00 o'clock that night I packed my little bag with a pair of black high-heel shoes, a wig, and some make-up. I drove in my car as close as I could to this toilet block. In the car I put on my make-up, wig and high-heel shoes. God I felt like a real woman. I was high with sexual arousal. My cock felt lovely encased in the sexy panties and my legs rubbing together with.