‘Hey, hey,’ came a very gentle voice. ‘You are moving towards a panic attack, and this is only a dream. In fact, it is your dream, and I am just...a visitor.’ Santa had found his voice, and not a minute too soon. His voice had an indescribable soothing yet invigorating tone, a blend of crooning with chuckling at a mid-tenor pitch range. It was not at all like that deep ‘Ho ho ho,’ that I’d heard in the movies. No, it contained a blend of two qualities: seductiveness and kindly assurance. My mood. The hostess replied, "Well you could have fooled me!"She then put an arm round me and took me over to a large televisionscreen, guiding me on how to walk in stilettos and said that Megan hadmade the first choice. They had interviewed a cross section of thepublic and asked them whether a man or a woman ironed shirts and did thedishes and the overwhelming vote of the public was that a woman did this."Ok" I said "but what about the other two chances? I wasn't a fag or aqueer."The hostess then. He would check out her lovely shaped buttocks in her tight yoga pants, stand behind her and start pleasuring himself. Being on a call, not available for him to fuck, she’d slowly pull down her pants for him, arch forward, and spread her cheeks to give him a good look at her fine ass and hot sex. All the while she’d be keeping up her ever professional demeanor.“Yes, Jim, I hear what you are saying,” she’d say to the person on the line. Only letting out a slight gasp as he’d lean in to squeeze. As I sat there, I felt something migrating from within me down my labia. That was followed by a soft plop and then another and another. I parted my legs, looked down and nearly fainted. I was bleeding. It occurred to me, after a moment, that I had just started my monthly cycle. That was both a relief and a bit disgusting. Yeah, it’s natural, but that doesn’t make it enjoyable, you know. Not unless you thought you might be pregnant. Even then, it is possible for a woman to be preggers and.