After catching up to Lindsay, I put an arm around her shoulders, in part to keep myself from tripping over my
now oversized shoes, and in part because I wanted to get as much contact with a woman as possible while I was
still a male. In response, she glanced inquisitively at me, then, apparently having decided to play along,
she slipped her arm around my waist. I can only imagine what any of my friends would have thought if they had
seen me there, arm around a beautiful woman, with her returning the apparent affection...
“So what's it like?” I asked, in an attempt to keep myself from focusing on every sensation my body was giving
and worrying about what was and wasn't normal.
“Prostitution? In my opinion, it's the best occupation out there. Most people get stuck as doctors or
lawyers, where they have to stress day in and day out about ruining other peoples' lives, or in boring day
jobs, where they toil in lifeless, stark environments. Being a prostitute is all about pleasure, both for
yourself and your clients. I imagine that you'll soon have quite the edge as far as giving pleasure goes,
since you will have first-hand experience with both a man's and a woman's needs.”
“Well, my only first-hand experience as a man is with my right hand.” I replied sheepishly.
“So, what, your girlfriend never put out?” She asked.
“Well, you see, I never actually –“ I begin, breaking off as I notice a lock of dark red hair dangling in my
eyes. I just got my hair cut last week, and it should be brown. Clearly, the changes were progressing
rapidly.
At this point, we turn of the sidewalk and head towards a smallish house. It's quite homely-looking on the
outside, two stories, a chimney, many windows, and overall looks very well-maintained.
“You're still a virgin then?” She asks, as she extricates herself from my arm to deal with the lock.
“Yes” I reply, blushing.
As she pulls the door open, I notice that we now are almost at eye level with each other, with her in her
heels and me in my oversized sneakers.
Stepping inside her house, the entire area seems to be geared to entertain. There are all sorts of erotic
paintings on the wall, several large dildos on the mantle, along with a huge collection of oils and incense
and other good-smelling things. In the corner is what appears to be a very-well-stocked bar. Through a door
I can see a bed that looks king-sized.
I jump a little as Lindsay slams the door behind me, sliding both deadbolts into place.