I walk down the street and get to the apartment building. I walk upstairs to the room numbered 227. I hear moans coming from the other side. I lean right next to the door and wait. A few minutes later the moaning stop and a man in thug attire comes out.

He looks at me for a second and boasts, “Ya motha is a gud fuck, cracka boi.” I held my rising anger in my fist as I just nod. The thug swaggers away.

Jo could always wrap me around her little finger. I suppose that is part of what loving your partner the way I do is. So, despite my protestations, I was soon ushered upstairs in our spare bedroom and trying on the underwear, stockings dress and shoes.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” asked Jo hold up the two-flesh coloured ‘things’ that were the false breasts in her hands.

“Do I have to?”

“If you do then I’ll get changed into something nice just for you.”