It had been months that we had been seeing each other, semi-chastely. I had made the first move and she had seemed eager. I had pondered and worked through my own feelings when she revealed she was a transsexual. I had waited patiently while she had the final operation. And only then, she said, "while I am grateful for all you have done, I think I would really rather be friends."
"Friends?" I thought, "after all the kissing and groping and promises, friends???" She had reluctantly agreed to dinner, which was somewhat strained. I would swear you were teasing me with your tight sweater, short skirt and boots. When we arrived back at her apartment, she said, "you can come in for a bit, but we are not coming into my bed."
I agreed, being the nice guy that I am. Once inside, I proposed making tea. She agreed and I busied myself at the stove. Once made, I brought her a cup and we chatted about movies and current culture. She was most of the way through her tea when her speech started to slur. "I am suddenly so tired," she mumbled and then slumped back on the couch.
"That's because I drugged your drink, you little cock tease," I murmured and smiled, "and now I am going to fuck your brains out. So I won't be coming into your bed, eh? That's fine. I'll screw you in your living room."
