That alone should have proved to her I was no 'sissy boy' since my cock was rock hard and pushing into her leg."Oh ho, my sissy boy like Freda" she said as she ground her leg into my erection."I think you know by now that I'm not a sissy boy. You are feeling the proof with your leg." Okay yes I feel, but you still my sissy boy."We finished the dance and our drinks came. Freda picked up hers and chugged it down then she set the glass down on the table and said:"Sissy boy take me home now" and she grabbed her purse and stood up. I didn't even get a chance to take one sip of my drink, but I didn't argue. I was just too curious. That I was "her sissy boy" intrigued me and I had to see where things were going.When we got to the truck I went to open the door for her but she pushed my hand away from the doo handle and instead she reached for the handle to the back door. She pulled the back door open and said:"Back seat sissy boy."I guess I was a little too slow for her so she pushed me into. Maybe's time to hold with the bolshies." I stood up, introduced myself, and shook his hand. It felt substantial on mine, strong and reliable. A hand of a man you could trust.He told me all about union power while we downed a few pints. I knew I was going to regret it tomorrow and the Missus wasn't going to be none more pleasant either, but I was drawn to him like filings to the magnet. Like the bosses to every last bloody bob.The next day I had a bad time. The wife was angry with me for wasting my money on drink, not like she'd not like as not have wasted it on some pointless frill for the girls. Like who did she think we were, bloody toffs? So when I'd had my supper, and she went into a bed colder than a witch's tit, I remembered Charles would be at the pub, talking everyone's ear about union strength and all that tosh. To be honest, I didn't know that I believed in that stuff. Sounded too good to be true and probably was. Still, wasn't fair for a man to work all day long and to.
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