There was just something about him: He was funny, cheeky, confident, and really good looking. I couldn't help but let my mind wander throughout our sh...ift, thinking about us meeting up outside work and doing things that I, as a married woman shouldn't do with anyone else other than my husband.Fitz and I are both from Northern Ireland and the only two in the station. This helped us bond and we became very friendly and talked regularly. At first, our conversations were platonic, just getting to. Not that it being Saturday even mattered to him, because, after all, he was recently retired and one day was like the next as far as he was concerned. He had recently told a neighbour that every day's a Saturday when you're retired, except Sunday of course.By this stage, Stephen had been jogging for around forty minutes since he left his car near one of the entrances to this nature reserve. Consequently, he had worked up a reasonable sweat, on what was a warm, sunny autumn day. It was cloudless. "'You guys have it made' she says to me. 'I would love to take my shirt off when it's hot but I can't because I'd have every man for miles ogling me. Maybe even I'd get attacked or raped and he'd get off because I was asking for it. And you want to be a woman. Jesus.'"Now I never said I wanted to be a woman. I don't. I just like the clothes and I'd told her that before but it didn't seem to sink in. But that wasn't the point right then."'Honey,' I said to her. 'I've just spent that last four. For Marx I have too much; for myself I have enough. Even my father is impressed, and perhaps a little afraid of me. And beautiful women do serve.

The first image arrived in mid-afternoon at my Los Angeles home high up on the Palos Verdes Peninsula about ten miles south of the airport and the offices I maintain at Century City.

I happened to be there at the time and noticed the incoming Email.

The woman had a good body, but it was the very ambiguity of the image that was arousing. Her cunt.