‘You’re not going anywhere.’ He slowly stalked towards her. ‘I have rites!’ she yelled stomping her foot, ‘you can’t keep me here it’s...illegal you fucking psycho!’ ‘You lost all rites the minute you stepped into that fucking abortion clinic.’ He spat and she gasped, already filled with shame over the huge mistake she almost made. ‘Whose peter?’ he asked coming closer towards her, his eyes shooting silver sparks of lightening, brilliant enough to make her flinch. ‘Who?’ ‘Don’t play fucking dumb. I still followed in silence. I entered and she was taking off her clothes. She didn’t look at me, just carried on like I wasn’t there. I had only taken off my shoes and socks and June was down to her knickers. June is in her late fifties and she is five ten tall and slim with shoulder length greying hair and she does not hide that fact. I'd never seen June naked, but bloody hell she had very nice tits; not big but nice. They sagged only slightly and were still a nice shape. She took off her. She pressed play and out came the words of some faint voiced singer playing acoustic guitar. Sensual music with a theme of love. Sam started to pull her shirt up. High enough to reveal her stomach. Tight enough to stay put without aid. The music had changed songs, now a jazz combo was playing. Sam Cooke something or other. Her hands played over her stomach, tracing patterns where none had previously been seen. Goose bumps arose, and hands moved to quiet this stirring of the flesh. Lower and. ‘Oh well,’ Tashka said. ‘I would have liked to be a woman for Vadya, just for one night. But he does not like me to wear a dress. In fact, he forbid it!’ she laughed. ‘How about a suit made in the style your friend Anata wears?’ Arianna answered, looking with a warm love into Tashka’s wistful face. ‘She does not wear dresses but nobody will say she is not a woman.’ Tashka thought about her friend’s Northern peasant clothes: wide-hipped trousers and little jackets made from fabrics in dashing.
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