"Sure," she responded, setting her purse down next to the couch.We lay down across the couch, my arm draped around her. It didn't take long, though, ...or my hand to start rubbing her stomach. From her stomach it seemed to follow a natural enough path. When it reached under her silvery shirt, I found a surprise."You removed your bra?" I asked naively."While I was in the bathroom, silly," she answered."Oh." As dense as I was, I could take a hint.My hand felt right at home, pushing her shirt up. "What appears to be the main issue?" It's highly complex," he explained condescendingly, "a genetic mutation that occurred hundreds of years ago; one that is highly resistant to manipulation."I made a few token suggestions, but he rejected them immediately as unworkable. There was little doubt that science had advanced, but the basic principles remained unaltered, and his outright dismissal frustrated me. His arrogant attitude left me with the impression that it was hubris rather than any lack. I slide into the passenger seat and fasten my seat belt as she closes the door. She gets in the drivers side and leans over to kiss me, her tongue exploring the inside of my mouth with both an insistent demand and an implied promise. I ask where we are going and get a finger placed against my lips for my pains.Mistress drives. As is her habit, she tailgates flagrantly. By the time we pull into the parking lot of the supermarket, my right leg aches from mashing down on a nonexistent brake pedal.. Whatare you wearing now?" I started to stammer, "My business suit ofcourse." Peggy came back, "The one with black slit skirt that showsyour stocking tops or is it the one with the beautifully flowing,pleated skirt?" Oh gosh dear," I peeped out. "Don't panic Emma, I am not throwing youout. Not until I at least see you fully dressed as Emma. I have alwaysthought you had a feminine side; I just did not realize how deep itruns. So, what are you wearing?" It is early evening there, so I assume you.