My tongue runs up her inner thigh and reaches the bare skin and I kiss and nibble the inviting tissue on show. Standing up I feed her some more wine and from behind you unbutton the blouse, lightly running my fingers over the exposed part of her breasts as I pull it back to expose her. Then gently massaging them for a few minutes before feeding more wine, putting the glass down my hands move down from her shoulders and cup her breasts from your bra, I lean down, kiss and gently bite her alluring neck and tell her to relax. Hear me move across the office then returning, I tilted your head back and drizzle a little more wine into her mouth. Picking up the candle of the desk I keep her head held back and drip wax over your uncovered breasts. Spits and spots at first then allowing a bigger dribble to spill onto them, creating patterns and aiming specific drops onto her erect nipples. Gradually building a nice coating of cooling wax watching her little flinches as the hot liquid hits the. Her eyes passed over the suit I wore, lingering on places that were no longer familiar. “My name is Annelle,” I said. “But inside I have always been an Andrew.” “Oh,” she said, an exhalation, a realization. “I…” What could I say? Here was the woman I had loved, still loved, and I was telling her that I wasn’t the woman she had been loving all along. “All those nights you said you were busy or tired?” she asked. “I was out, dressed like this, trying to convince the world – and myself – that I could be this,” I replied. “And those clothes I saw in your closet?” “Mine… I lied when I said they were my dads, that I was keeping them as mementos after he had died.” Her eyes were wide, so wide, but she was still here! Still with me. “I have a confession,” she said, and there was a trace of uncertainty in her voice. Her hands tightened around mine. My heart dropped six feet below the floor, but I was confused. If she was going to say what I thought she was going to say, why was she.
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