Although not happy, he was doing what was right not to hurt someone who had continuously hurt him tearing away at his sense of self. Now that would e...d. It had to end so he could sleep at night. Put it to rest one way or another. He needed to make certain in his head and heart once and for all or he’d go mad with the wondering. She had given him a key to her place months ago although he never asked for it. ‘Your choice,’ was what she said when she gave it to him. He kept it in the glove box of. ." No buts, Erica," I interrupted, giving him a new name, creating a new persona for him. One I believed would help him overcome his stereotypical male reputation and succumb to his real desire: to be a faggot. Again, I don't know how I knew, but I was sure I was right. I finished by demanding, "Now put the wig on, Erica, and suck my cock."He looked so nervous, yet also excited, I assume, to finally do something he had craved for a long time. He put on the wig, his hands trembling slightly. I. The apartment had been newly cleaned, and was spotless, their plants had all been well-cared for and watered, and there was a fresh vase of flowers in every room. The fridge and pantry were newly stocked with essentials, and there were two bottles of wine on the brand new dining-room table.Their new apartment was perfect.Eve works in mysterious ways, thought Julie.Julie's memory stick was back, too, sitting next to the wine, with a post-it note attached.Julie picked it up, and read the note. It had become a lifeline, filling a void I couldn’t identify, but so comforting. I began looking forward to hearing from him. The days when I didn’t hear from him were anxious ones until the next time. He was a voice to identify now. The calls continued and became more frequent, replacing the e-mailed letters. We talked of family, friends, sadness, joys and needs. It was the needs that bonded us – emotionally and, yes, even the reality of unmet physical needs. We tried to understand more about.