[continued from previous message]

Castle was a safe place for them and other deviants.

There were men holding hands and some of them were openly kissing. Most
of the transvestites were surrounded by flocks of admirers who appeared
to be enchanted by them to the extent that some of the transvestites
were sitting in men's laps, some were kissing and some were outright
fondling each other.

Donald hadn't thought about it for quite some time now but suddenly
images of the nylon sheathed calf of Julian Clifford crept back into his
mind, except the well-turned leg was not attached to Julian Clifford's
body, it belonged to some seductive coquette who was as yet faceless.

Donald recalled Gillian Snodgrass scolding him and telling him to 'go
out and explore the world and find something exotic to tickle your fancy
before you remarry'. There was no doubt that some of the more attractive
and feminine types were indeed exotic.

"See anything you fancy? You walked right past me and didn't recognise
me," Jimmy Bottle or more correctly Wendy Wantsit tapped him on the
shoulder and grinned at him when he turned to face her.

At first Donald had no idea who was talking to him but the woman was
stunning; dressed in a leather micro-miniskirt, white diaphanous blouse
with a black and silver bolero jacket, high heels, shoulder-length
blonde hair and heavy makeup. She was attractive and sexy and Donald
would be lying if he didn't admit to himself that his first instinct was
to fuck her.

The voice was the giveaway; he recognised Jimmy Bottle's high whiney
effeminate voice.

"Ok; I think we can sell this in court but you can't wear that," Donald
waved at Wendy's streetwalker clothes.

"Oh, don't worry darling; I have a nice suit that will impress the judge
and the gallery," Wendy smirked and before Donald could do anything
about it she leaned in and kissed the side of his mouth leaving him in a
cloud of perfume and lipstick on his lips.

"I'll send you the court date," Donald yelled at Wendy as she
disappeared into the crowd and although he knew better he couldn't take
his eyes off her pert arse and long legs sheathed in sheer black fully-fashioned stockings.

"Well that's that taken care of," Donald said to himself.

As much as he found some of the transvestites fascinating and alluring
Donald decided to be on his way. The Elephant and Castle was not the
type of establishment that a preeminent barrister like himself should be frequenting. He decided to stop for a quick piss on the way out and made
his way the men's lavatory and was a little relieved to find that there
were no transvestites in there. They were free to use the women's
conveniences at the Trunk and Brick.

Donald stood at the trough and let his water flow, reading the graffiti
on the wall as he pissed. A cork board was mounted centre-trough and was covered with tart cards pinned to it with drawing pins. One of them
caught his attention, it read: TV Julie. Discreet service for select
gentlemen. Kisses and cuddles or spanking and discipline. Hand relief only!

A picture of TV Julie reclining on the sofa, one foot up on it the other
leg extended, her arms draped along the back of the couch, one hand
holding a riding crop, her head thrown back a little and her lips opened sensuously, accompanied the text. Her knickers were openly on display as
were her stocking-tops. Even in black and white she looked beautiful and
sexy.

Donald realised what a fool he'd been.

Julie was not 'True Value Julie'; she was 'Transvestite Julie'! Oh my
god! Was Julian Clifford not just a manufacturer and distributor of tart
cards? Was Julian also the 'tart' being advertised?

It made sense didn't it? What would make a man wear stockings under his
suit? Because he was a crossdresser and it was compulsive! Julian
Clifford was also Julie Clifford; it all made sense!

Now what was Donald going to do with that nugget of information?

Donald took Friday off from the practice and waited patiently for Julian Clifford at Lambeth North tube station and got on the same Bakerloo Line
train, alighting at Oxford Circus. Donald had been careful not to arouse Julian's suspicions but had got close enough to see that Julian was
wearing stockings or tights under his suit.

He took a perch in the Black Swan public house across from the bookshop
and worked his way through two pints of bitter before Julian closed the
shop for lunch. Julian took a circuitous route around Soho, similar to
the route he had taken when Donald had followed him before.

Donald followed him watching Julian stop at every telephone phone box he
passed and he also darted into a couple of newsagents and public houses
and quickly ducked back out. Julian was working his way around Soho
street by street, distributing tart cards from the valise he was
carrying. Donald went into one of phone boxes and found TV Julie's tart
card.

It was identical to the previous card but the text had been altered
slightly: the Hand relief only! stipulation was missing. Donald smiled
at the implication and read the card closely. What had been added was a
line of text that read: Sat through Thu 6pm to late.

Donald continued to follow Julian from a discreet distance and watched
him drop into a lingerie shop and leave almost immediately, stuffing a
package into his valise.

Donald entered the lingerie shop and spoke to the pretty shopgirl. Using
his charm, good looks and a one pound note he discovered that Julian had
picked up a package of twelve pairs of fully-fashioned nylon stockings;
six black, six fleshtoned.

"He picks them every Friday so I have them pre-packaged for him.
Sometimes he buys knickers and other lingerie. Tells me it's for his
wife but we get plenty of his type in here. No skin off our nose, is it?
A sale is a sale and he's a good customer," the girl said, smacking her
gum and studying the pound note that Donald had given her.

Donald smiled and left the shop. He went home and had an early supper
and at 6pm precisely he dialled 723 4141 and nervously waited for an
answer. There was none. Julie's new cards specifically said: Sat through
Thu 6pm to late so being Friday he wasn't really expecting one.

Donald waited until around 9pm and then took a taxi to the Elephant and
Castle. He'd dressed down and was wearing a cheap suit with scuffed
brogues, without a tie. The Trunk and Brick was in full swing; Riccardo
and Hernando were banging out 'Roll Out The Barrel' on their
back-to-back pianos and the crowd was singing along, following the
bouncing ball projected on the wall.

The drag show had not long finished and the 'girls' were lined up at the
bar, eager to convert their tips into drinks. Donald sidled up beside
them and observed them without gawking. Their makeup was very
exaggerated compared to the makeup worn by other crossdressers in the
pub: stacks of false eyelashes, glued down eyebrows with false ones
created above them, harsh contours and heavy applications of bold colour.

The four drag queens sat at a table together chatting with their fans as
they dropped by to congratulate them on the show. One by one the drag
queens went out back to change. Two returned still dressed as women but
with their makeup turned down and their hip and thigh pads gone and two
came out dressed as their male selves.

Donald found this interesting but it was not what he was here for.

He found Julie Clifford sitting with a large-breasted, attractive older
woman and another woman of similar age to her. Donald was surprised to
find that he was mentally referring to the transvestites as women; at
least those that were passable. He wasn't sure it was Julie at first;
the only picture he had of Julie was her tart card which he turned over
and over in his hand as he studied her. Donald was able to get a stool
near the bar right next to their little crowded table situated right at
the back of the pub where the tree transvestites and three men sat
talking above the raucous din of pub.

They had to raise their voices to talk over the sing-along and Donald
was able to snatch snippets of conversation. He quickly ascertained that
the women were called Julie, Bella and Sandra. The woman who he
suspected was Julie was in fact her.

He was sure that a closer examination of Bella would reveal that those
big tits were false; but they served their purpose and as she was a big
girl they were proportionate to her frame. Sandra was pretty but a
little skinny. There was no doubt that Julie was the most attractive and feminine of the three.

end p2

She was wearing a carefully brushed and styled blonde Marilyn Monroe wig
and her makeup was heavy but perfect: black eyeliner and mascara to
frame her beautiful green eyes, contrasted with pinkish hued eyeshadow.
Her high cheekbones were rouged, her pretty nose powdered and those
sensuous lips coated with plum-red lipstick.

She was wearing a simple blue skirt-suit, the jacket hanging over the
back of her chair, a red satin blouse and black high-heeled pumps. Her
short skirt had ridden up a little; enough to show off the welts of her fully-fashioned nylon stockings. Her costume jewellery glittered under
the subdued pub lighting.

Donald was not the only man to notice Julie. The man sitting beside her
was obviously infatuated with her, although Julie showed little interest
in him. Several other men in the pub were gawking at her too.

What surprised Donald was that he saw nothing of Julian in Julie. That
actually wasn't true: it was as if Julian had been appropriated and
subsumed by Julie. Try as he might, he could see nothing masculine in
Julie. He studied her sitting down at the table engaging with her
friends, standing up to go to the loo and sometimes to dance and he was intrigued by her delicate femininity and poise. Every gesture she made,
every footstep she took, and every word she spoke; her very countenance
was womanly.

Unless they knew otherwise nobody would ever know that Julian shared the
same body. Conversely they might think that Julie and Julian were twin
brother and sister.

Donald felt vindicated. He'd been fascinated and obsessed with Julian
ever since that glimpse of nylon stocking on the eight-fifty-five
commuter train servicing the Bakerloo Line. His detective work had paid dividends. Donald knew Julian's secret.

The irony was that once Donald spied Julie Clifford he immediately lost
all interest in Julian. Julie had totally replaced any thoughts of
Julian. She was a totally different person and he was infatuated with
her; smitten was probably a better word.

But what he was thinking was repugnant surely? It was anathema to him.
It was totally against his nature.

Gillian Snodgrass' advice: 'go out and explore the world and find
something exotic to tickle your fancy' kept circling his thoughts and he
shook his head and looked at his watch. It was close to closing time.

Donald had solved the mystery of the man on the train who wore nylon
stockings to work under his suit. That was enough. There was no need to
pursue Julian Clifford any longer.

But that night Donald didn't dream about Julian Clifford; he dreamt
about Julie!

All the next day he kept thinking of Julie; he just couldn't put her out
of his mind.

Later that evening, at exactly five thirty, having imbibed two gin and
tonics to fortify him, Donald lifted the receiver in a telephone box
near Lambeth tube station and dialled 723 4141, turning the tart card
over and over in his hand. He had never felt so nervous.

Julie Clifford and Donald Cooper

Saturday morning Julian opened the bookshop a little later than usual.
Julie had imbibed a little more alcohol than she usually did on Friday
night and Julian's stomach was queasy. He had a frightful day and didn't
sell much but now that Julie was making good money from prostitution it
wasn't that important. What was important was that Julian's beloved
bookstore was safe from the debt collectors at Barclay's Bank.

Julian locked up early and went home and Julie took over. She took a
long luxurious bath and examined her slim body for any stray hairs which
were immediately plucked. Julian was not hirsute and had very little
facial or body hair. Julia's body was svelte but not skinny; she was
hippy and what little fat she had was stored on her pert buttocks. Her amber-blonde hair was growing out nicely and had recently been cut so
that Julian could wear it centre-parted and look like some bookish intelligentsia and Julie could wear it styled in a feminine bob.

Julie never wore her own hair at the Trunk and Brick or with her
punters. It was something personal to her and she loved to sit in front
of the mirror and brush and style it and was a little dismayed when she
had to put a wig cap over it and pull on one of her hairpieces but it
gave her the anonymity she needed to perform her duties as a whore.

The only part of her body she was not satisfied with was her breasts.
She had silicon prosthetics of course, breastforms they were called and
they filled the cups of her brassiere nicely and gave shape to her upper
body but she would really like some real tits. Nothing over exaggerated;
that would be outrageous; maybe a B or C size proportionate to her body.
But even if her wish came true and Julie did sprout breasts, what would
Julian do with them? Bind them? That seemed a little unkind. She was
already making him wear nylons and knickers under his man-clothes.

What if there was a way to do away with Julian? She'd often had this
thought but it was impossible. Everything was in his name and how would
she explain his disappearance and her sudden manifestation? She put away
such thoughts.

She dried herself and poured herself a drink and began the ritual of
applying her makeup. A glance at the clock revealed it to be five
o'clock. The phone would begin ringing soon. Saturday evenings were
always busy.

Julie finished her makeup and slipped into her lingerie, a white satin full-slip, matching full-cut knickers and brassiere, a black lace
suspender belt and flesh-toned seamed stockings. As often happened,
slipping into her dainties had produced an erection. She was too drunk
and exhausted yesterday when she got home from the pub to allow herself self-pleasure and she was concupiscent. She glanced over guiltily at her
little dildo and the tube KY Jelly beside it.

Julie had douched as part of her toilette and she smiled wickedly. A
little stimulation before she went to work wouldn't hurt. She took off
her knickers and lay on the bed and lubed up the dildo and put the tip
near the entrance to her anus. She improved her erection to full
tumescence and slowly inserted the dildo. It still hurt when it pierced
her sphincter but she took her time and soon the tip was pressing on her prostate whilst the girth of it illicited little sparklets of pleasure
from her puckered bud.

She took her cock in her hand and worked the dildo slowly in and out of
her anus, allowing herself fifteen minutes of sustained pleasure,
backing off each time she approached extremis. She would wait until she
had serviced all of her punters before she allowed herself to orgasm
unless one of them bought her off during a session which sometimes
happened if the man was handsome and the sex was good.

She wiped the dildo clean and set it aside and then she wiped the excess lubricant from her sphincter and put her knickers back on. Julie was
still tingling with sexual excitement and that wasn't a bad thing. It
made dealing with the pasty, fat, working class, middle-aged married men
who made up the bulk of clientele tolerable.

Julie had just put on her high heels when the phone rang. It was early;
still only five thirty. Normally she would have ignored it but she was
in a good mood brought on by post-masturbatory bliss and she
click-clacked down the stairs to answer the red phone, dressed only in
her lingerie.

"TV Julie," she whispered into the receiver in the sultry tone she used
for customers.

"What are you wearing?" Donald whispered; he was so nervous he could
barely speak and realised that he sounded stupid as soon as the words
left his lips.

"Piss off, tosser!" Julie hung up the phone and reached for her Consulates.

The phone rang again and Julie snatched it up ready to give a mouthful
of expletives to the idiot on the other end of the line.

"Don't hang up. I'm sorry; I know I sounded like a tosser," Donald said,
his tone genuinely conciliatory.

There was something in the man's tone and his educated accent that
appealed to Julie. It was hard to make an assumption based on a
telephone conversation but the man sounded genuinely sorry, a little
nervous, but also sanguine.

Julie lit the cigarette dangling from her red lipsticked lips.

"Mostly white. A satin full-slip, full-cut knickers and a brassiere that
I've yet to stuff with my false tits," Julie decided to have a little
fun with him.

"Hosiery?" the man whispered hopefully.

"Tan, or more correctly, flesh-toned, fully fashioned nylon stockings.
Black high-heeled courts," Julie let out a stream of smoke.

"Not those horrible thigh-high boots in your picture?" the man sounded
hopeful.

"Hey! Those boots cost me a pretty penny and a lot of my customers like
them," Julie said indignantly but she had to admit that she was enjoying
the banter.

"Your legs are too beautiful to be covered by boots," Donald whispered
and immediately realised his mistake.

"How would you know? Have you been here before?" Julie sounded pensive.

"No. But the shape of your legs in those boots leads me to believe they
will be even more magnificent just clad in stockings with your feet shod
in high heels," Donald thought he had recovered well.

"Well the clock's ticking ducky and I've got money to make. What can I
do for you?" Julie got down to business.

"I have a proposal," Donald took deep breath.

"I bet you do. Look you've read my card. The only thing I've got to add
is that it's two quid for hand relief and a fiver for fellatio... that's
if I offer it to you," Julie wanted to ensure this man knew that she was
in charge.

She tapped ash into a cut glass ashtray beside the phone and listened to
the man's heavy breathing. He seemed to making some sort of decision.

"My proposal is as follows. You take on no other customers tonight other
than me. I have you to myself for the whole evening and I'll pay you
seventy pounds Stirling," Donald couldn't believe that he had actually
said it.

Julie was shocked. She'd had all sorts of proposals put her way; most of
which were downright disgusting and mostly illegal but this was the
first time anyone had asked for her company exclusively other than
drunken proposals of ardour from admirers at The Trunk and Brick.

"It's a tempting offer but I'm not going to say yes. Turn up to my gaff
and I'll take a look at you and if you're clean, healthy and decent
looking I'll consider it. I'm not going to do anything dodgy. The only
thing on offer is what's on the card," Julie said, half-regretting that
she had.

Julie used a lower class cockney type inflection when she was working.
It was something that developed naturally. Inside herself she believed
that work she was doing was beneath her and if she was to be a whore she
might as well sound like one.

Her intuition was to tell this man to throw his hat in the air and take
a flying fuck at it but there was something about his manner that
tempted her. Besides if he really was some toff with a pocket full of
pounds, wouldn't it be nice to just have one customer to deal with?
Someone who sounded like they had a bit of class.

Like most of those posh poseurs, he probably wanted his bottom spanked
and to be told he was a naughty boy. If he asked to wear her knickers he
was out the door short shrift that was for sure.

"Ok done. If you don't like the look of me I'll be on my way. Don't
worry I'm not going to ask you to do anything, what did you call it?
Dodgy? I really just want to spend time in your company and of course a
kiss and cuddle and whatever else is on offer," Donald said, hardly
believing that he was saying those words.

"Twelve, Black Prince Road, Lambeth," Julie quipped.

"I won't be long; wear something nice," Donald said and hung up the
phone with trembling fingers.

Donald leaned on the telephone apparatus for support. His whole body was shaking and his legs felt like they might give way. How could he have
done such a thing? Donald knew that Julie was really just Julian dressed
as woman. But she wasn't! He'd seen her, heard her voice; he'd seen her
walk and talk. She was a beautiful woman. An alluring sexy woman and the
fact that she was anatomically different didn't repel him; it made him
desire her more.

This was madness! He needed to stop this now. Go home! Go down the club
and get drunk! Go to a nightclub and pick up a woman more his type!
Maybe even pick up a brass who was a real woman! Dare he say it: maybe
even call Vivian Huxtable!

All these things recurred to him over and over as Donald Cooper walked
the fifteen minutes from Lambeth tube station to twelve, Black Prince Road.

"Wear something nice! Who the fuck did this toff think he was?" Julie fumed.

But secretly she was glad that he had said it. She'd half expected him
to ask her to put on dominatrix leathers or a latex catsuit. These were
the favourites of those in her flock who were into bondage and
discipline. Others liked her dressed as the obligatory French maid,
perhaps a secretary or school teacher (she used the same outfit for
both). One punter had the audacity to ask if she a nun's habit!

It would be nice to wear something less costume but still seductive. She settled on a dark suit. The skirt was tight and had a kick-pleat in the
back otherwise it would be difficult to walk in. It wasn't really a
mini. It was a pencil skirt that came to just above her knees. That
jacket was also tight and fitted over a brilliant white satin blouse.
She'd had to lose the full slip she had been wearing earlier and settled
on a black rayon half-slip to go under the skirt, otherwise the
foundation garments and shoes she was already wearing went perfectly
with the outfit.

She poured another drink, lit a cigarette and waited anxiously for her gentleman caller to arrive. She'd seen hundreds of punters since she had started 'being on the game' but she had never felt so anxious about a
single one. She weeded out most of the loonies over the phone and those
that got through her rudimentary screening process were easily dealt
with, usually with a whip, a crop, or cane.

But this man seemed different; a rich toff who wanted her all to
himself. If he was handsome he might be the man of her dreams she joked
to herself and stopped laughing when the doorbell rang.

Donald took a deep breath and pressed the doorbell. He knew that if he hesitated he would never do it and walk away, likely forever. He would
probably be thankful that he did but he also knew that he would regret
it for the rest of his life. He would spend the evening with this TV
Julie person who had somehow enraptured him, captivating his thoughts,
ruining his life. He would let her do the things women of her kind were
paid to do and he would satisfy both his lust and his curiosity and he
would never see her again.

One thing was for sure! He would be going nowhere near what she kept in
her knickers under any circumstances!

Donald heard the click-clack of her high heels in the hallway and took a
deep breath and forced himself to smile.

Julie opened the door.

Smiling at her was a handsome man with rugged good looks, wearing an
expensive suit and polished brogues. His hair was black, thick and
lustrous and he reminded Julie of the actor Richard Burton. There was
something worryingly familiar about him and Julie couldn't put his
finger on it. He was certainly not one of her regular punters but she
was sure she had seen him before.

Julie began to close the door, her senses tingling; sensing danger.

Donald's heart was filled with dismay.

"The Elephant and Castle!" he blurted out.

Julie stopped with the door half-closed and looked at him quizzically.

"The Trunk and Brick! You asked me how I knew that your legs were
beautiful and if I'd been here before. I saw you at The Elephant and
Castle. I was amazed at how beautiful you were and then I found your
tart card in the bogs," Donald held out Julie's tart card, which had
crumpled in his hand, as if offering a tribute to a goddess.

It was not really a lie but it wasn't the full truth.

"Look it's my first time doing anything like this and I'm a little
unsure of myself. You know, being with a err, a... well you know. You're
not going to make this easy for me are you?" Donald sighed.

Julie opened the door and studied the man. She knew that she had seen
him before and although his story about seeing her at the Trunk and
Brick was believable and likely she was certain that she had seen him
somewhere else.

The curtain in the house across the road moved and Julie knew that Mrs
Granger, the local gossipmonger, was watching them, gathering more
gossip and rumours to spread.

Julie made a split-second decision.

"Come inside," she looped her hand through the crook of Donald's arm and
pulled him through the door.

Her touch was electrifying. Donald could feel her long delicate fingers
through the sleeves of his jacket. Her long red fingernails seemed to
dig into his flesh. He knew that he was embellishing and imagining it
but the miasma of her sensuous musk was not an illusion and he breathed
in deep as he stepped past her.

Julie felt the man's bicep through the sleeve of his coat and was
impressed. His aftershave was something spicy and alluring and she liked it.

Julie closed the door and put her back to it and studied the man closely
under the hallway light which was the only light in the house burning
brightly. Julie kept it that way so she could examine the punters as
they entered. The man was even more handsome under the light with his
leonine head, Roman nose and full lips and shock of coiffed black hair.
He had an athletic physique despite his age and his suit was cut
accordingly.

"Donald Cooper; enchanted to meet you," a smile lit his face as he
leaned in and kissed Julie on the cheek.

Julie had never been kissed on the cheek by any of her punters before.
Nor had many of them introduced themselves; they demanded anonymity and
they were simply 'men'. They usually grabbed her by the arse and forced
their mouths on hers or they were the opposite: shy and bashful and
Julie had to take them by the hand and lead them upstairs.

Julie felt herself taken with this man immediately. She felt stupidly
girl-like and overwhelmed by his good looks and his manners but it
wasn't just that. Donald seemed to have a genuine affection for her. How
she knew that having just met the man was beyond her. She couldn't
assume anything of the sort and realised that she was being silly.

"Ok you can stay. Seventy quid you said?" Julie was being deliberately
cold and aloof to hide her true feelings.

"Seventy it is Julie," Donald reached for his wallet and Julie realised
that she had failed to introduce herself.

But she had no need to, did she? He had her tart card with her name was
on it. He was just another punter; albeit a rich one.

Julie eyed the crystal bowl that sat beside the telephone where she kept
her keys and loose change and nodded. It was as if for some reason she
didn't want to touch Donald's money. That doing so would somehow degrade
her in his eyes. She knew that she was being stupid but she gave a sigh
of relief when Donald laid the crisp fifty pound note along with two
tens in the bowl.

"Now the preliminaries are concluded, might I suggest that we move
elsewhere, it's rather crowded here in the hallway," Donald quipped.

He couldn't help but drop his eyes to her ankles and calves. There were
the culprits! The limbs he had seen peeking out from a pair of trousers. Swathed in nylon stockings, they had beguiled him. But the woman to whom
the limbs belonged bore little resemblance to the man on the
eight-fifty-five commuter train. This woman was the girl of his dreams.

Julie saw Donald's gaze descend to her legs. This was not an uncommon
scenario; men often lusted after her legs... and her bottom, but in this
case she sensed that Donald was appraising her rather than just lusting
over her. It was a strange experience and she wondered if she had made
the right decision allowing him into her house.

end p3

She eyed the seventy pounds in the crystal bowl and decided that if
nothing else; the money would come in handy. She took the handset off
the red telephone and laid it on the table top so that they would not be disturbed and led Donald into the sitting room.

She'd done this absentmindedly. With one single exception she had always
taken her punters upstairs to the workroom.

"May I pour us both a drink?" Donald pointed to her little bar and Julie nodded.

He poured two gin and tonics and brought one over to Julie where she
stood in the middle of the room lit only by two dimmed standard lamps.

"You really are beautiful," he offered Julie her drink and she took it.

Her fingertips lingered briefly on his hand and Donald smiled and
sighed. She smiled demurely at him and took a sip.

"I bet you hear that all the time?" Donald said; knowing it was true.

There was no evidence of Julian's existence in the house. The woman
standing before him could have been Julian's twin sister but there
wasn't a skerrick of manliness about her. She was petite, utterly
feminine and ladylike and ridiculously beautiful and desirable. Donald
wanted to kiss her like he had never wanted to kiss another a woman in
his life but now he was in her presence he was scared. He thought that
if he started he would never want to stop.

"As a matter of fact..." Julie was about to reply when Donald stepped
into her and kissed her.

It wasn't lewd or coarse. He held her gently by her elbows and placed
his lips on hers and Julie felt herself melt. There was something
affectionate and tender about the kiss. Donald's full lips were gently
pressed on hers. She could smell his aftershave and feel the warmth and tender-heartedness in the gesture. His lips were soft and gentle, barley brushing her own. She felt his breath on her cheek as he lingered just
long enough not to be lascivious.

Julie felt her cheeks burning as she blushed. Why was she behaving like
this? Men came to her house to kiss and fondle her, to grope and
manhandle her. She whipped them and spanked them and pulled on their
willies until they spurted their essence and left, having paid for the satisfaction they received doing these things to her. She willingly got
down on her knees for some of them and suckled their phalluses until
they ejaculated in her mouth.

So why was she feeling like an adolescent schoolgirl in the presence of
this handsome stranger? He may be behaving like a gentleman for now but
soon he would behave just like all the others. He would make her do the
things that fed his carnal desires. 'Make no mistake Julie -- he's just
like the others' she thought to herself.

Julie's lips were plush and delicate; unlike any other woman he had ever
kissed and there had been many. She exuded a magnetism that beguiled
him, he could taste her lipstick, smell the cosmetics on her face and
the scent of her perfume. Her hair brushed his cheek and he was swept
away by the deliciousness of the simple act of kissing her. He wanted
their first kiss to go on forever but he broke the kiss and stepped back.

He reached out to stroke her cheek and Julie stepped back alarmed. She
wasn't used to such affectionate gestures and she thought that Donald
might be about to slap her. Some punters had done so before.

But Donald reached for her and pressed the back of his hand to cheek and
gently stroked it.

"You are such a beautiful creature," he sighed.

Julie demurred and put down her drink and turned her head slightly so

[continued in next message]

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