I didn't take a newspaper; my weird hours didn't cater to it. So my usual routine was to run a cup of coffee, look at a little TV while I drank it, do...the three esses—shit, shower and shave—and then log on to the national news on my laptop. Which I did. Some asshole killed himself along with his wife and three kids, some other asshole detonated a suicide bomb in the middle east and wasted himself along with a couple of civilians, a third asshole ... oh, hell, the same crap as usual. The weather. Doing my best to give a sexy show for him. After 10 minutes or so of this his coworkers joined him in the parking lot and they were leaving...the first guy pointed me out to his friends and they started hooting and hollering "Hey Sexy" and "check out the slut" and then "It's a faggot!" "She's a He" and much laughter. I went back in disappointed. My illusion had failed. They were making fun of me. I closed the balcony door and curtains, then turned on the tv to pass the rest of the evening.A. I liked that. She was obedient and forthcoming, offering herself freely and voluntarily without expecting anything in return. “What’s your favourite toy?” I asked.“My husband’s dick,” she replied.I laughed. “Ah, okay,” I said. “What’s he doing now?”“He’s helping me take pictures,” she said. “And he’s waiting for instructions.”“Okay,” I answered, seeing how far I could go wit her. “Then I want him to film you while you spread your legs and start pissing right where you are now.” It was a bit of. “Alf told me to come across to make sure you get Trafalgar on board,” she said, pecking Jack on the cheek as she took Trafalgar’s lead from him, with a delightful chuckle, and proceeded to lead the very willing stallion into his box. Jack quickly applied the fastenings that would ensure that he was secure for the journey.As he turned from that task, Becky pressed her lips warmly against his, before breaking away to gasp, “Oh, God, touch me.”Jack whispered in her ear, “Trafalgar might kick me.”.