Even he wasn’t from Kolkata.I sat in his car and he started driving without uttering a single word. I was waiting for him to start the conversation,...but that stud guy was so quiet that even his silence and stare were making me get tempted.I removed my chunni and threw it to the backseat. He said, “Have patience baby, have patience!”We both smiled. He was taking me to some highway road which was deserted that night. He stopped somewhere and turned at me finally after making me wait and wet for. "Just normal frustrations of running a school. Though you're not helping." What did I do? Like I said, I haven't even talked to Mr. Parker in almost a month." Your play." My play? What happened? Did Mr. Parker complain about the pregnant girls?" No, he didn't. And, actually, he was very impressed by what you put together in a month." You're kidding." No, though he probably won't ever admit it."I laughed, then stopped quickly. It made my head hurt."So, if Mr. Parker isn't complaining, what's the. For there was no otherway, this morning my wife would find, Stacy, not her husband, in theirbedroom.Even before waking, Stacy had already begun to transition my earlyslumber into my parallel reality. Visions of pink lace, the hertightest training bra, nylons and high heels, manacles, ropes, locksand chains... the sweet aromas of make-up, hair spray and perfumeintoxicated my thoughts. The funny thing was that as part of our D/shobbying, on occasion, my wife would briefly crossdress me and. Gliding her fingers past the bedside panel, she'd ordered the twenty-foot cream curtains to recede, waking to peaceful sunlight in his epitome of luxury.Removers had brought her essential stuff to his penthouse. His armada of suits occupied only twenty percent of his vast closet space. She was still emptying her boxes, finding homes for clothes and treasured personal possessions. She'd stopped asking his opinion. He was easygoing about her invasion of his space.She'd kept a foot in both camps..