When Scott woke up he was alone in George's bed. He rolled over andstretched, then sat up. He briefly wondered where George was and was aboutto go find him when the subject of his interest arrived in the doorway with alittle "ta daaa!" Scott's jaw dropped open and his cock rocketed erect. George stood therenaked and all woman, and more beautiful than ever. The blue formula had doneits work to perfection - in fact, there was very little of the old George leftin the person standing in the doorway. He - she! - now had waist-length platinum blond hair framing a very longand oval face. Only the nose and eyes were even faintly the old George, andboth were considerably more feminine. Her arms and legs were sleek and slenderand shapely. Her waist was tiny and flat between a pair of 40D breasts thatwere creamy and round and mouth-watering, and wide sexy hips that sported anice cushiony ass. Centered on those hips was a brief strip of silvery pubichair just above a pair of. “I had a cold. Don’t want you getting it.”“I’m so sorry to hear that. When was this?”“Week before last.”“Are you quite recovered?”“Probably.”I leave my nail pressed against the can. He snorts in a way that might indicate laughter and inclines the can to me. I take it. It’s still very cold; it must have come from a fridge in the railway station shop. There’s a trace of condensation around the rim, and the can is three quarters full. I take a couple of deep swigs, then we both regard the can. Millwall’s expression reminds me of Bambi’s mother, moments before her exit from the film.“I love Bud,” I say.“I prefer Stella.”Ha!“It’s the larger cans –”“Yes!” he says, expression animated for the first time.I hand back the beer and indicate the seat opposite.“May I?”He shrugs. Charming.“Oh,” I say. “I don’t want to impose.”“No.”I raise an eyebrow.“You’re not,” he begins. “It’s not…”He points at the seat. I perch demurely on the edge, put my handbag down beside me, and look out of the window.Kent.
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