He had her arm. Her tears were teaming, ready to stream. She couldn’t look at him. She was collapsing from the inside and she couldn’t stop it. He...pulled her into his chest and into his arms. She erupted with sobs. Everyone avoided her. It was as if they could catch death from her. No one would look her in her eyes. She knew they were trying to stay clear until she was able to engage in everyday life, but she didn’t know if she could ever handle it again. No one looked at her. She needed to be. The stairs creaked under my weight. I quickly ascended them. I got to my room, stripped, hoped into the shower and let the steam take me over. The streams of hot water stung the bruises forming on my back. I knew better than to go out with him anyway, my brother warned me. He said Richard had a reputation. I thought that was an ambiguous term. Reputation implied that he knew women, how to work them up and get them all hot and bother, and in the mood. Not drag them into a seedy back alley, park. "You have tried on women's clothing," he repeated slowly, "and thensomething moved in you. Right?" I suppose," I replied."You suppose," he repeated again. "Now, when was it that you first puton women's clothes?" About a week ago," I replied."And you have been wearing women's clothes ever since?" he continued."Yes," I admitted."Are these your own clothes you're wearing right now?" he asked."They're my wife's," I said blushingly, "except for the shoes." Right," he said, "So your wife helps you. After she knew she had gotten him beyond the point of no return she stopped and explained to him that he could do what ever he wanted to her. She said that I had helped her to realize her role in life was solely to please men. That I had told her she was never to refuse access to a cock in need and was to do what ever was necessary to bring complete satisfaction to those who chose to use her slut body. She said it was more exiting than she could have imagined to give herself to someone else; to.