“You mean having surgery so I would have a vagina?” “Yeah.” She thought for a little while and then sat down opposite me. “I have thought ...bout it, actually I have been awake for hours thinking about it, and honestly, I am not sure.” “So, some part of you is still a man?” She laughed. “Maybe, I think it’s more a fear of not being able to have an orgasm.” “Oh, is that a sure thing?” She shrugged her shoulders and poured more wine. “There is always the risk; it’s a very complicated. " i continue... "no more pain... no more suffering... just bliss... quiet oblivion and bliss... all you need to do is say the word... one little word and it will be over... no effort... no strain... just a word... just say it... say it... is that so hard...??? so much to ask...???" and here calm and almost quiet begins to rise... soft tones replaced by deeper meaning... menace growing... a return to what was before and now... words clipped... the spaces between them more blinks than breaths and. It probably only took about twenty minutes, but it felt like I had waited for hours. At long last, the bedroom door opened just a crack. I let my breathing become slow and heavy, and closed my eyes most of the way as I so often had. He walked in, his strong chest bare, black hair cascading down to cover his broad shoulders. He wore dark, thin shorts, and I could see there was already a tent in them where his erection strained to escape. "Girls!" he called out, the usual test to see if we were. I told him it was a school night and could only sit until ten o’clock and he agreed. So, on Thursday, he came to pick me up. As we pulled into his garage, he stopped the engine and said, ‘Um, Mandy, before you get out, uh, well, Steve Parsons told me about you and, well, I’m single, I don’t have any kids. But he told me that you had other services, and, uh, well, I’d like to hire you for those. Can we go inside and talk about it?’ I agreed and we went in, sat opposite each other as he.