”“Nobody gives a shit any more. That show has been off the air for years.”“Oh, yeah? I saw it last night.”“That was a rerun.”“Oh.”�...Come on. Try to think of a serious thing that we could discover the truth about by going back to the right place at the right time.”“Hey! Maybe we are making a mistake by thinking only of things many years ago that would involve a lot of things we don’t know about or have any way to control. Even if we went back to the night Marilyn Monroe was murdered and camped. He’d come for me, taken care of me, and he’d stayed, even after I’d tried to murder one of our friends, even after I pushed him away and spiralled into self-destructive self-loathing. He’d rescued me twice – once from the Architect, and once from myself. And somehow still I doubted his love?That did it. I had a perfect moment of clarity: I couldn’t trust him with everything, trust his judgement and his motives, his abilities and his morals ... if I didn’t trust his judgement of me. He’d had the. What could I do though? I let her take off the jeans I was wearing and as soon as she did she stopped. She looked at my smooth legs leading up to the little red booty shorts I was wearing (I didn’t own men’s undies anymore, and I had gotten so used to woman panties I forgot I was wearing them). She climbed off me without saying anything. She was quiet for a while and I didn’t say anything. Then she said “wow you really are a sissy, it wasn’t just me, it’s who you are”. Then, almost like she. I could tell where he was going with this. I should have got up and left, but it was raining outside, and his apartment was warm and cozy. I should have pushed him away, but the sweet wine on his breath drew me closer. When I didn’t move, he pressed his mouth gently to mine, and his long fingers caressed the back of my neck. He tilted his head so that our lips melded perfectly. His tongue teased the edge of my bottom lip before pushing past it. I moaned as he explored my mouth.I should have.
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