A few clicks again and the seat was attached to the truck, a loud slam of thedoor behind her. Totally enclosed in a delivery type truck with no window...not even a light to see by. Her mind screaming to herself in terror as the truck moved. Other than someone kept hidden from her view, she had not seen a single person all day long,now trapped in a dark truck moving down the roads of who knows where. Her mindbegan to play tricks on her in the darkness, seeing vague images played inthe back of her. He knew he was having another breakdown. The last time, hethought he was a little girl. Eventually, his therapist helped him realizethe little girl was just a voice in his head, and then taught him how toignore what she had referred to as "aural hallucinations".All that therapy slipped away. He giggled from both nervousness and giddyrelief as the shell he had built around himself floated away. In the centerof his thoughts, shining like a beacon, was a realization logic told him wasimpossible,. I looked a lot like Nancy Allen when dressed.Out on the town,I was completely passable as a hot,fuckable woman.When trolling for my DARK DESIRES,I never failed to tell them that under the make-up I was a man.I never lie and I didn't want to get beat up.Just like in my "Black Cannon" story,I've had many pricks pressed against my thigh.Even after learning the truth,a lot of the straight black guys I was dancing with took me to the parking lot for some "quick relief".I was more than happy to. I had never been inside before. It was a fairly bleak reception area with a large wooden reception desk of the kind that you had to stand right up to in order to see the receptionist if she was sitting down. There was a door with an electronic lock that led into the main office at the back. I peeked over the desk and saw the receptionist. Kinda cute. Mid-forties like Julie. But short. Pixie hair cut. Obviously enjoyed being the receptionist and showing off her cleavage. I also noticed an empty.