Lips. Tongue. More lips. More tongue.Mr. Patel put his arms around me. Our mouths were still in a wet, messy collusion of male hormonal entanglement t...e kind that only gentlemen of a certain age can desire and express fully. I guided him up from the chair, our lips and tongues still licking the other’s mouth. We stood up. Mr. Patel was still fully dressed. I suddenly became aware that in all my glory – my car parked outside, my IT job, my once having spotted the Agha Khan at Orly Airport, my. All I saw was a fat man in women's clothes. Could I tell himhow ridicules he looked, probably not."Oh my," I said, "you certainly look different, how do you feel?"A bit silly and embarrassed, but underneath, OK," he whispered."Underneath! Lift your dress and show what you are wearing underneath,"I teased him.He lifted his dress and showed me the panty girdle he had got. That didnot do much for him."Come over here and let me give you a kiss," I said to him. A peck onthe cheek was all I could. More

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