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She was Asian, a little heavy for her height which was only an inch or so taller than I but she was deliciously butch (I have phases where butch reall... does it for me). Her hair was short and black. She wore a pair of well-cut trousers and a white silk shirt with black oxfords on her feet. I was in pale blue, a short dress with sheer sleeves and a sheer v-shaped panel in the bodice. I had tied my hair back and my legs were bare. I noticed her as soon as I walked in. She was with a group of. Warm hugs all round, introductions to your son Justin, and a quick tour of the new house out of the way it was time to get down to work. Your door although attractively carved was split on one side and had a rotten panel at the foot, so I would need to get going if I were to have it rehung before the day was done. You excused yourself to continue unpacking and I set to my task. By 5:30 the heat and humidity had left me drained and dripping, but the door although not 100% would swing and lock so. Most days of the week he was a confident man. He had always deliberately cultivated a proper amount self-doubt because that was how you learned. It kept you grounded, stopped you overreaching yourself. He couldn't stop his well-trained brain asking if he had over reached when he married June? Was she too much for him?Whatever the truth of it, his brain could invent any number of bigger more impressive lovers for June. If this had been work, he could have dealt with it; he knew how to handle. When we're with a man, we look to him for guidance. When we're out, society tells us, in no uncertain terms, even without words, what we're supposed to be like. When we're by ourselves, we're still judging us through the eyes of others. Even now, here, between the two of us, you're looking for me to tell you what we should do, and I'm waiting for you to explain a relationship, a mutual feeling, that maybe can't be explained. And I want to find out what all of that is." She nodded, slowly. "I.
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