I'm so sorry. So very sorry...”My thoughts scattered like a flock of birds before a pouncing cat. I couldn't think. Everything was so crazy. This ni...ht was so crazy. It had started off so magical. My date with Mrs. Albertson's son, Kurt, had ended up with us back here in his bedroom. We'd been dating throughout high school and even went to the same college to stay together. I was eighteen, a freshman, and finally ready to surrender my virginity to him.At the time, I loved him so much. I thought. Because the spandex was so thin, you could make out the outline of the butterfly if you happened to look between my legs (as I know people will do!) and so the loose running shorts were there for concealment. I also had the battery pack/remote control to deal with, which I ended up just tucking it into the spandex on my hip, and the running shorts hid that well, too. As soon as I was dressed, I turned the butterfly on low. I can't describe how incredibly sexual I felt. The stimulation was. My upper body in the starchy blouses we wore at the academy wasn’t hilly, but my legs in the short, navy blue skirt were long and slender and pale. I couldn’t have been THAT bad.And I wasn’t, I don’t think. My tits grew, but, I mean, up to normal—no sudden fall harvest of cantaloupes on my chest or anything. My eyes were small but nice, usually squinting a little from the cigarette smoke. I didn’t avoid vice as such. Later, after college, there is photo of me on a park bench in Paris wearing no. "Oh andTaylor? Your mother and I want you to know, we accept you no matterwhat." Huh?" Taylor was confused. What the hell was his father talking about?"And even if there's something you don't want to tell us yet, weunderstand," Taylor's mother interjected.Suddenly it clicked. If they'd gotten an email from Principal Fletcher...she must've said something about the cheerleading or the fact thatTaylor, as far as Principal Fletcher knew, was a girl."You don't understand! Whatever that email said,.