“Fuck, that was good,” he said, sort of smacking my thigh in a convivial way - just two buds. I lay there, breathing heavily, unbelieving. Then...a chirp sounded from his cellphone on his bedside table. He leaned over and checked it. “Oh wow - Alma’s coming back tonight!” he said, happiness in his voice. Quickly, he became a bit flustered, “Fuck, you’ve gotta get out of here!” he said, hustling me out. “OK Chris,” I said, in a daze of pleasure. “Sounds good.” I found he was pushing me out. " I don't feel anything at all, Anne," Fran replied tonelessly. She knew Ms. Smith quite well. "I am all mixed up. I know I should feel something. My mother is dead. I have never known my father, so I suppose I am now an orphan. But I have been wishing for her to be dead so much recently." She trailed off.Ms. Smith, not easily shocked nevertheless looked shaken. "But why have you been wishing that Fran?"By means of reply Fran rolled up a sleeve unveiling a number of purple, black and. All had adjustedvery well.That evening, Tommy went home and changed clothes, putting on jeans and aT-shirt. He was comfortable remaining in women's underclothes.it wasn't worththe bother to change out of them. Even the bra felt natural...he forgot hewas wearing it. Sue noticed but said nothing until bedtime when she presentedhim with a gift for his first day on the job as a woman. She gave him awoman's long nylon nightgown, trimmed with lace which he appreciatively puton. It was to be the first. Harris brought me some lemonade and we satin uncomfortable silence."Your nails are lovely," the former Mrs Harris commented as i took adrink from my lemonade.I glanced at them and mumbled a thanks, the French manicured setextending more than a half inch beyond my finger tips. I was stillgetting used to having long nails, sometimes even the simplest tasksbecame almost impossible, but Mrs Harris always kept her nails nice,and i didn't want to raise any suspicion with Allen that anything waswrong..