Iexamined myself discretely. I guess I wasn't Sandra. Sandra should be anadult already. I was a kid. A girl. Nothing wrong with being a girl,though I ...asn't desperate to become a female me. I was dressed like aboy and had no visible breasts. With my hands in my pockets, I couldfeel clearly - no balls here.No backpack and no purse. Keys in left pocket and wallet in right backpocket. And no working phone. There was some change in the wallet and,an id. I sighed with relief. I was Patricia Laurel. Tom couldn’t believe this was really happening. Nothing like it had ever happened to him before! He was happily married, but here he was, about to go to bed with a woman he barely knew! ‘Would…would you like to come in?’ Alison asked, her voice so soft Tom barely heard her. She seemed as anguished about what their situation as he was. Tom, unable to talk, nodded. He stood there, his emotions a complete jumble, while Alison fished her key out of her purse and unlocked the door. She got the door. You’ll get your chance next time to get your revenge!First, we take a nice warm, but short shower together. We stand in the big slate lined shower just long enough to lather you up and then under the warm water from the rain shower head to rinse you off. Well, maybe I spend a little time appreciating the view of the flickering candlelight reflecting off the water drops cascading off your firm breasts and collecting like sparkling dew in the downy curls at the apex of your luscious thighs. I. They’d have to be bored if they looked up Andy Curtis. I’m a retired property manager and have very few professional contacts these days. I keep thinking I should delete my account, but I never get around to it. I get maybe one view every few months and it’s usually someone like a financial planner trolling for potential clients. I figured what the heck and looked to see who had been checking me out. One person. That’s it. Her name was Cara Jackson Weaver. I had known someone named Cara, years.