Walking out the door, a hand grabbed me. Her again. She was afraid. She needed someone to take her home. I felt mingled pity and disgust.Pity won. We ...ade our way down Eighty-fourth Street under the harsh orange glare of sodium arc streetlamps. Where did she live? Some town on the Island. Long Island. Where the rich folks lived. What the hell had I gotten myself into?She wasn't a bad looking broad, maybe on the wrong side of forty by a couple of years and a bit the worse for wear... but pretty. " I'll take your word for it." I sipped my tea and enjoyed the way her hazel eyes seemed to glitter beneath her thick, auburn hair."You can take anything of mine you want," Queyla replied and I widened my eyes. "Now, what do you really want to do with him?" Breasts," I told her. "I want him to look like a woman, but keep his penis and testicles." Hmmm ... Sounds like fun," she said. "Tell me when to stop."Esya giggled nervously as his flat chest began to expand with budding breasts. They were. More

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