Janice. Yes, her name was Janice Perkins, biology major from Philly. Yes, had situations beyond our control been different, I might have married out o... love, fresh out of college. But, nope!I gave Janice a chance and was polite, but the sensation was unremarkable. I opened my eyes, gazed down and there she was, just as she’d appeared a dozen years ago.“Hey, Alex. Miss Perkins here. This succubus is going fuck you, then I’m going to transform into an incubus. We’ll put your seed into Clair.. The guys aren't meeting us until Eleven, so we don't need to rush off." What exactly do you have in mind Jeremy, you dirty pervert?"I knew though. He had a high sex drive, Jeremy did. Well, so did I, but I let him think he needed to persuade me. Men like that. Bastards. Anyway, eventually, we were cosied down on the bunk, under the thin blanket, in the dark, starkers. Shy I'm not.Jeremy was a slow, unhurried lover, always treating me like some fragile ornament that might smash if he was too. Growing up I was not particularly interested in the standard and overtmacho role nor was I effeminate. I stood in the middle somewhere.Growing up in the 1960's gender roles were massively enforced andstifling; the fear of being outed was palpable. Men's clothing was, andis, purpose driven, rough, confining and restrictive in all aspects; theform and function of it was strictly enforced as though it was auniform. Women's clothing on the other hand was about freedom andbeauty. Men's clothing is. Dinner with my family was OK. My twenty-year-old sister Alyssa caught a ride home from Juniata College last night so she could watch our game. Alyssa and I had fought when we were little. Now we had more of a live-and-let-live outlook on each other. I even had hopes that in six months, when Alyssa turned twenty-one, that she would be willing to help me get booze.My little brother Justin? At best I would describe him as a dweeb. We had been close when we were younger. Now, the gulf in outlooks.