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Bone Deep By Cassandra Morgan The bar was crowded, but the big man moved easily through the people. Those around him parted to let him pass. Bone Martin was used to people moving out of his way. Who wouldn't? Bone was 6-5, and weighed 280 pounds. He was dark and menacing, with large arms and big hands. He walked, and the joint scattered. No one wanted trouble with Bone. He glided through the pack of humanity, his eyes locked on a small table in the corner where two other men waited for him. Before he got there, however, a tentative black hand touched his arm. "Oh, hello, Didi," he said. "Hey Bone. How's my man?" "I'm fine, Didi. You keeping yourself warm at night?" "I'm waiting for you to call, Bone. To keep me warm." He laughed. "Well, the phone may ring yet, girl. I can't believe all the guys in this place aren't calling you." Didi looked up with her dark eyes. She was pretty, Bone thought. Nice lips. Nice teeth. A smooth caramel complexion. "Men call," she said. "But they ain't you." He shrugged. "Life is a brushfire," he said. "Takes time to stomp the flames out. I've been busy." "You call, hear?" "I will." Bone moved to the table now, and the faces of the other two men lit up as old friends' faces do. There was Singer. There was D.B. How many nights had the three of them lied away an evening? How many chickens had contributed wings to their dinners at Albert's Bar? "Hey," Bone said, embracing Singer, then D.B. "Hey," each of them said. With these three, the talk started slowly. "You guys order?" Bone asked. "Yeah. Wings and beer. Like usual." Bone unfolded his legs beneath his chair. He massaged his right knee, which always hurt. "What's up?" he said. "Singer was just saying that LeBron was better than M.J.," D.B. said. "He's been on the weed, if you ask me." "Nobody better than Jordan," said Bone. "You know how I feel." "Everybody knows how you feel," Singer said. Bone laughed. He had known his two friends longer than anyone. They were kids together, getting dirty on Maple Street. Later, they were Bearcats, a member of one NIT team and one NCAA team at Cincinnati. Hell, when they met, Bone was still James and Singer was still Marvin and D.B. was still David. But time changes things. The clock moves, and their home town was just a place on the map where they used to live. Memories were stored there now, and while they all visited, they didn't reside there anymore. Ah, but his playing days were glorious. He was a rebounding machine. He was a couple of inches short for the job, but hell, Charles Barkley wasn't any taller than him. Rebounding was about work, and being in position, and wanting it more than the other guy. D.B. was in charge of the points most of the time, but Bone bled for his team. He had long arms and big hands, and when he touched the ball, it was his. Once the ball went off the rim, no one asked how tall he was. They had been a team of nicknames. Digger and Ghost and Shooter and Wang and Hammer. But Digger moved and Ghost got rich and Hammer died in a car wreck. Wang was in jail and Hammer's wife didn't let him drink. So the Three Amigos hung out. Bone looked up at the TV in front of them. It was playing highlights, and Stephen Durant was hitting long shots. "You remember the night of your 3s?" Bone said. "Of course I do," Singer said. "Best night of my life." It was their junior year at UC, and they were playing Buffalo, and Singer had gone crazy in the last minute of the game. He hit two 3s in the final seconds, then another one in overtime, and they had won by three. Singer Bailey was a point guard, and a good one, smooth and quick. His teammates called him Singer because of an annoying habit of singing old songs under his breath when he handled the ball. Singer was more of a passer than a shooter on most nights, but he had 17 against Buffalo that night. No one told him he couldn't sing after that. To the media he was D.B., because he was harder to catch than D.B. Cooper. But the truth is that, one day in practice, coach had called him "Dog Balls," because of how much he sweated, and the other players wouldn't let go of it. He was still D.B. to his former teammates. Then there was Bone, and again, his nickname was a lie, too. Coach had said in a press conference that James Martin was called "Bone" because he was the backbone of the team. The truth is that coach was riding his ass one day about all of his boneheaded mistakes on the court. That stuck, too. And so they met at Albert's every week, and they told the old stories about the old games, and they acted like their lives weren't being lived in the past tense. Bone was an investor at Barnaby and Himes. Singer was a high school coach. D.B. was married with three kids. He managed a Best Buy. "I saw Didi light up when you came in, Bone," Singer said. "When you gonna hit that?" "Oh, it's been hit. Just not by me." "Shit. I'd love to have her." "You have her, and Keisha gonna kick your ass, D.B.," Bone said. "So, you seeing anyone?" Singer asked. "Kinda." "Kinda? How do you kinda see someone? You kinda slip her the dick? You kinda massage those tittles?" "Kinda," Bone repeated. "She's married." "Whoa," Singer said. "You slamming a married woman? You gonna get shot." "No," Bone said. "I won't." "Man gets brave when someone's in his woman," D.B. said. Bone grinned. Then he leaned forward and whispered. "Her husband knows." "Shit," Singer said. "He knows, and your ass ain't shot? What kind of pussy is he?" Bone looked at Singer. He shook his head. "I ain't supposed to talk about it," he said. "She wouldn't want me to." "This is us," D.B. said. "Out with it." "Well, she's my boss. Miriam Abernathy." "Your boss?" Singer said. "So she's white?" "It's ain't like that," Bone said. "Ain't just because she's white," "Isn't it?" D.B. said. "I'm not there because of ... status," Bone said. "She's a nice woman. We started talking at work one day, and then we started having lunch, and one thing led to another. She can lick the paint off a car door." "Jesus, Bone," Singer said. "You're fucking a white chick? Does she put the Beach Boys on while you have sex? How white are you these days?" "Come on, Singer. That's why I didn't want to tell you." "I had a white girl once," D.B. said. "She was sweet. She took me home to meet her father. He offered me a job doing yardwork." "Nice white man, huh. You're lucky he didn't call a cop and have him shoot you." "That was coming." "So, Bone. What do you do? Fuck her while her husband watches?" Bone smiled. "Sometimes," he said. "Shit. That's funny," Singer said. "White men are such pansies." "You don't know the half of it," Bone said. "Well, what's the rest of it," D.B. said. "He's a sissy," Bone said. "A sissy? You mean he plays with dolls and shit?" "He wears dresses. Maid's uniforms, mostly. He cooks and he cleans and he bows to her. What do they call it. Curtsy. He curtsies to her." "You're shitting me," D.B. said. "I'm not. He used to be Cary. Now he goes by Cherry. He likes to watch while I fuck her." "Bullshit. Ain't no man alive gonna watch while you get the pie." "He does. He sits at the end of the bed and he plays with his little Peter beneath his lock." "His lock?" "Yep. Miriam keeps him locked up. She calls it a cage. It's like he's Iron Man, but it's just his dick. He can't get hard or anything. And she has the key. He can't get out of it unless she lets him out." "Damn, Bone. Why you want to fuck someone like that?" "Singer, she is so sweet to me. She can't do enough. She gets me drinks. She gets me food. She lets me fuck her ass." "Her ass?" D.B. was amazed. "Keisha wouldn't let me touch her ass with a hundred-dollar bill." "Well, Miriam does. She says she likes my black skin against her white skin. She likes that I'm a foot taller than her. She likes that I'm bigger than Cherry." "Damn," Singer said. "I'm hard just thinking about it." "You should have been there the first time," Bone said. "I walked into the room, and there was this pansy at the door. He was bowing and scraping, and he made me a drink, and he called me 'Sir.' He minced around the room like he's a fashion model. He kneeled on a pillow while I kissed his woman, while I took off her blouse." "Jesus." "I screwed her two ways til tomorrow. And he looked at me like there was a light in his face. He was happy and smiling and shit. And then he licked her." "No way." "It's true. He licked up my jizz like it was mama's soup. And when it was done, guess what he did?" "What?" "He licked my cock." "Liar! He did not." "He did. I was stunned. I never suspected he was gay, but he licked right up my shaft and he put the knob in his lips and sucked like I had been snake-bitten." "God, that's gay," D.B. said. "It didn't feel gay. It felt like a sissy was sucking me off. Lipstick and everything. It was nice, if you want to know the truth. She was very girly." "I don't want to know the truth. I don't want to hear the truth." "She kissed my nuts, Singer. She licked my ass." "Gross. What a fairy." "The thing is, Singer, she was really pretty. TV actress pretty." "Christ, Bone. You let a man gay all over you." "You aren't listening, Singer. If she was here right now, you'd push Didi out of the way to buy her a drink. I haven't ever seen a sissy who looks like her. I've seen all these sex-changers on TV, and none of them are nearly as pretty." "Did you suck his dick?" "God, no. Singer, what are you saying? Of course I didn't. I just laid back and let her lick me. Nothing wrong with that." "Yeah? Would you take her to your Mama's house?" "Well, only to clean it. Mama needs a maid." "I heard that." "You should meet her, Singer. I mean it." "'Her?' You keep saying 'her.' " "Well, she is a her. You'll see. Fuck, you might even take her home. Those mixed marriages can work sometimes." D.B. laughed. He slapped Bone's palm in a high-five. Shit, Singer thought. Who doesn't like Cherry pie? * * In Miriam's neighborhood, the streets were named for presidents. She lived on Lincoln, off the corner from Madison. Bone didn't see an Obama Street anywhere. He pulled into her driveway and approached the door. A passing neighbor stopped and watched him, as if he were going to break in. Bone waved, and the man slowly moved on, but he continued to watch. Bone knocked at the door. A few minutes later, a effeminate looking man in a black maid's dress answered the door. "Master Bone," he said. "Do come in, sir. welcome back." Bone entered the house, wondering how many black men had been here, and how many had come through the front door. A pretty brown-haired woman in a red dress approached him. She smiled, and she had dimples. She was 30 years old now, but she still looked like a schoolgirl. "Bone!" she said, pulling him inside. "How's my fella?" She raised up on her tiptoes to kiss him on his mouth. Cherry looked away. "Your fellow could use a bourbon," Bone said, grinning. "Cherry! Get Master Bone a bourbon, won't you. Off with you now." Cherry scurried to get the drink. Bone watched her leave. "So what's the deal with the sissy?" he said. "Cherry? Don't worry about her. She's the help. She used to be my husband, and we started playing dress-up games. He liked the,. He decided that when he wanted to get in my panties, he really wanted to get into my panties. One thing led to another. He started wearing that shit all the time. He's a happy maid these days." "He doesn't mind that I fuck you?" Miriam flinched at the vulgarity. "He doesn't object," she said. "He knows he traded in his rights to my vagina so he could be a sissy. That makes him happy. So I'm going to get what I need elsewhere. And what I need is you." "You aren't planning on putting me in a skirt, are you?" "Oh, heaven's no. You're a man, Bone. You'd never take to it. Some men do, and some don't. You wouldn't." Bone nodded. "Glad we got that straight," he said. Miriam reached out and cupped his dick. She smiled at him. "Whose keeping Conan company?" "Conan?" "The Barbarian. I think I'm about to get invaded." Cherry walked back into the room with Bone's drink. She tried not to notice where Miriam's hand was. She tried not to think about what his wife was about to do. But she could't help it. Miriam didn't hide her sex. She had her appetites. She liked big men, sometimes black men. It all made Cherry feel inadequate. Then again, she was a sissy. This wasn't playtime anymore. This was lifestyle. Everyone knew. The neighbors knew. His old friends knew. His former co- workers knew. He was the man who had become a maid, who had taken the pills for his breasts and the collagen shots for his lips. He went the grocery store in dresses now, while the old women whispered behind him in voices he could still hear. He hung around the bus station to meet men. Was it worth the trade? To be a simpering sissy, he had traded away his respect, and his status, and his wife. He had swapped his men's clothes, and his dignity, and his manhood. He was the man who slept with other men. The man who scrubbed pots and mopped floors. The man who curtsied to the men who would screw his wife. To live like this, she approached dying. And now, this tall, black man stood in his living room, his hand on her wife's ass, lust in his eyes and a bulge in the front of his pants. This man's cock had been in her mouth, and it would be again. Perhaps her ass, too. He felt his skirt on his thighs. He felt the tightness of his corset. He felt the heels on his feet. The hose on his legs. The earrings against his cheek. The hair on his face. He felt it all as he stood there, watching the two of them. He imagined Bone's bone, thrusting to the sky with its impossible length. He imagined it penetrating the pinkness of his wife, and sliding in and out as she cried out. He imagined him coming inside of her, tensing as he spewed into her. He felt a stirring against his cage. Damn him. He could not help it. There was something about the vision of Miriam getting what she needed that excited him beyond measure. He had held that cock before. He knew its weight, its girth, its superiority. God help him. He was looking forward to seeing it again. * * "So, Cherry. What is happening here?" Bone sat in the kitchen, drinking coffee, watching the Sissy make dinner. She was working like a waitress in a dinner, her short skirt billowing around her flat ass. "I don't know what you mean, Master," she said. "Is Miriam forcing you to do this? Are you her...slave? I mean, hate that shit." Cherry looked at him. No one had asked him that before. He thought it was sweet. "It's my idea, Sir," she said. "I wouldn't blame Miriam. She's good to me. She found out I liked to dress as a woman, and she didn't leave me. Some women would have. She introduced me to other sissies, and she understood when we ... played. Miriam didn't flinch that I was bisexual or transgender." "Damn, boy. All you need is a plug for your ass." Cherry grinned. "Bingo," she said. "No shit?" "None. It's big, and it's thick." "I never knew a guy who took it up the ass. But I wondered about Singer, to tell you the truth." "It sounds bad, but it's nice." "I had a doctor in college who stuck his finger up there as part of a physical. They call him lefty now." "Heck. I would have married him." Bone chuckled. "You're all right, Cherry." Cherry smiled. "I could suck your cock, Master Bone. We don't have time for you to fuck me." "Later, Sissy. I'm saving up for Miriam." Cherry stared at his crotch. "Lucky girl." * * * Bone and Miriam lay in the wide bed. She was stroking his chest hair. He had a hand on her left breast. She looked into his face, and she kissed him on the neck. "Miriam, am I just another kink for you?" "Excuse me?" "I see your husband mincing around like Tinker Belle, and I know you get off on it. You take ownership of her, and I know you get off on that. Are you what they call a .mistress? Am I just your Mandingo, your black man to sate your jungle fever? You gonna try to own me, too? "How you can you ask me that, Bone? I'm here, aren't I? I shattered my wedding vows to be with you. I'm an adulteress, a cheater, a wanton woman. Answer your own question. Do you like me because I'm white? Because I'm a conquest? Because you fucked the lady of the manor." "You've got a good laugh. I like that. I like seeing you boss Cherry around, I admit it. But that's not why I'm here." "So why are you here?" "So I can have sex with you." Miriam laughed. "Well, that's up front, isn't it. You want to get married?" "Huh?" "If you think you're just a kink for me, we could get married, and we could have golden children. I'll divorce Cherry and we'll set up house. We'll be the talk of the neighborhood," "I wouldn't do that. You're his... hers." "Then shut up and fuck me. It still works, doesn't it?" "Well, let's see. Touch it. Kiss it." "Hmmm." She kissed down his stomach and took his cock in her lips. "Damn, woman. You're good at that." "Almost as good as my husband." They laughed. And then they didn't anymore. * * Singer was like a schoolboy going to his first dance. He was here, well, because the zoo was closed, and he wanted a close look at Cherry. He could not believe the things that Bone had told him. So when Cherry answered the door, his jaw dropped. This wasn't a sissy. This was a model. An actress. A beauty queen. She had bright red lips and dancing eyes, and who knows how much of her chest was really her? "Welcome back, Master Bone. Who is your friend?" "He's Singer, Cherry. He'll sing you a song." "That's nice," Cherry said, looking at Singer. He was a few inches shorter than Bone, and lighter skinned.mBut he was still a good-looking guy. "I might stay for the whole concert." Bone chuckled. "I'd tell you not to get your panties in a wad, but the look on Singer's face says he might wad them himself."." "No," Singer said. "It isn't like that. I'm just ... surprised by how good he looks. Or she looks." "Please, come and sit," Cherry said. "Mistress would be very angry if I left you two outside." "Where is your mistress, Cherry?" Bone asked "She's still at the office. But she'll be home soon. May I entertain you two while we wait?" "I think I'll take a walk in the garden," Bone said. "Why don't you and Singer talk for a while?" Cherry smiled slyly. Singer fidgeted. "You have a pretty dress, Cherry." "Come with me, Master Singer," she said, taking his hand. "The living room is a better place to talk." Bone wandered outside. The gardens were pretty. He wished he had that kind of land to grow things. There wasn't enough green on the South Side. Singer, meanwhile, was sitting on the couch and looking at Cherry. He was trying to find any hint of manhood. "So ... how long have you been like this?" he asked. "Like this?" Cherry said. "You mean how long have I been a crossdresser? Or how long have I been a maid? Or how long since I decided you were the most handsome guy I've ever seen?" "Um, a maid, I guess." "Almost three years," Cherry said. "At first, it was just a bedroom game. She would rub her lingerie over me. Then she dared me to put them on. Then she dared me to dress as her maid. A thousand days later, and I'm a sissy. I like it. Do you like it?" "I ... I think you're pretty," Singer said. "Real pretty." "Do you? If you want, I can ask Mistress to see if you can have me." "Oh, that's not necessary. I'm not queer." "I'm not either. But occasionally, I like to check to see if I'm still straight." "How do you check?" "It's like checking your oil. I use a dipstick." "Huh?" "Your dipstick." "I...oh. You mean you suck me off." "To be coarse," Cherry said. "Cherry? How do they feel? Your clothes?" Cherry smiled. Like the angels are caressing me. You want to put them on?" "Um, no. Yes. Maybe. We...we could kiss." "Sounds dreamy. Pucker up, big guy." Cherry leaned in and brushed her lips lightly against Singer's. He pressed harder and slid his tongue into her mouth. They were still going at it when Miriam walked through the door. "I see you have company, Sissy," she said. "What's his name." "Um, this is Singer. He's a friend of Bone. Bone's here too, in the garden." "Such charming names. Perhaps I should go by 'Gash.' What do you think?" "You ain't even met Dog Balls yet," Singer said. "Dog balls?" "Long story," Singer said. "Ma'am. Speaking of balls, can I play with Master Singer's." "Of course you may, Cherry. I would never nip young love in the bud. Did you say Bone was in the garden?" "Yes, ma'am. He wanted to leave us alone." "Well, I shall, too. Be sure and serve our breakfast at 8 in the dining room. We'll get up tomorrow. See that Singer does as well. Make sure to clean his come off of your face." "Yes, ma'am." Miriam giggled. She went to the garden. She wanted to see what might grow. * * "Her room is pink, Bone. She has five maid's uniforms. Five. And she has this little rocket ship that fits up her ass. And her Mistress has a dildo that's bigger than I am to butt-fuck her with." "Sounds like they have a good time." "I guess so. Damn, Cherry's a hot woman." "I thought you said she was a man." "Only two inches of her are a man. The rest is all Cherry." "You sound like you got it bad." "I do not. I just find her interesting." "Because she let you fuck her in the ass?" "Well, that's part of it." "What's the other part?" "She blew me." Bone started to laugh, and then Singer was laughing along. Sex did that to a man. It left him warm and happy. "Bone, don't tell anyone, okay?" "Don't tell anyone that you're in love with a man?" "I'm not in love. I just like her." "You gonna suck her dick?" "No. Yes. Maybe. That's part of being a good lover, isn't it?" "A Sissy part, tight, Singer?" "What are talking about, Bone?" "Singer...when we played, some of the guys thought you were a little ... feminine, Were they right?" "Please don't say that." "You never married." "You didn't, either." "Did you suck off Digger in college?" "God, no. Did he say I did?" "Maybe." "Well, I didn't." "Would you have? In the right circumstances." "No. Maybe. I don't know." "Nothing to be ashamed of, Singer. Some guys are gay. Some black guys, too. And some girls, too." "Look, I gave Digger a hand-job once. On the way back from West Virginia. That was it. It doesn't make me gay." "It doesn't make you straight." Singer paused. He felt his secrets were spilling out. "Bone...if I was like Cherry, would you hate me?" "Why would I hate you? Because you didn't offer me a hand-job?" "Funny. But I'd need two hands." "Hah. Fortunately, you have two." Singer was quiet for a moment. Then he offered this: "There are times I look at Cherry, and I'm jealous. She looks so sweet, so happy." "You want to be a maid?" "Not full time. Not like Cherry. But I could work on the weekends. I could wear a dress." "Why don't you, then? A lot of people need domestics. My mom, for instance. D.B., for instance." "D.B. has four kids. His place is chaos." "More of a reason for you to look after him. I bet Keisha would appreciate it." "Bone...do you think I'm gay?" "So what if you are? The question is if you want to be a maid. Keisha would be a good Mistress for you. D.B. would be a good Master. They'd give your life some order. They'd make you happy. You could sleep with both of them." Tears were in Singer's eyes. He looked at Bone with an ache, a yearning. "You'd think less of me." "I'd think my friend had found his place. Singer, it's time. Singer nodded in surrender. "Yes, sir." * * Bone looked across the table at Miriam. Cherry flitted about, refilling his drink, being a butterfly. Bone grinned at the domestic scene. "Is this real, Miriam?" "What do you mean?" "I mean, am I still your man? Your black man? Your soul and your heart." "You know you are. Bone, I wouldn't be with you unless I was committed." "Prove it to me." "What's there to prove, Bone. We got to office parties together. We go to Albert's to see your friends. We hold hands at the mall. Some of my friends don't see me any more because of their own attitudes. I'm yours, Bone. You can't get rid of me." "Will you wear one of Cherry's maid's dresses for me? Clean up? Wash my boxers?" Cherry looked as if she was going ot say something. She didn't. "If that's what you want, I'll be your maid. You'll have two of us." "What if I want to put in bracelet cuffs? So everyone can see you belong to me." "I'll wear them proudly." "What if I want other sex parties. I have a friend named Didi who has a wet pussy you could lick." "She sounds nice." "How about a collar and a leash? A jack-of-spades ankle tattoo? How about you sleep chained to a chair? "Bone. I'll do anything you want. You know that. Why are you being like this? Why do I have to prove it?" "Because part of me still feels like you're playing me. Because of what you did to Cherry. Because white women are weak and deceitful and can't be trusted." "Cherry is following her nature. I'm not playing you, Bone. Love is feeling that way, like the other person is taking advantage of you. But I'll have your kids. I'll shine your shoes. I'll blow you in a public restroom." "I don't know, Miriam. Black men have been dominated by white people for too long. I had coaches use me. I've had women use me. I've had employers use me." "I know, baby. And I can't do anything about those assholes. But there is no limit for me with you. I love you." "Do you own me?" "God no. If anything, you own me." Bone nodded. He walked over to Miriam and leaned down and kissed her. "You're one hell of a white woman." "You're one damned fine black man." "I like how tiny you are. You have to go up on me you're so short." "I like it too. I like the way you moan after sex." "I do not." "Liar." Bone laughed. He picked Miriam up in his arms and carried her toward the bedroom. "It's moaning time again," he said. * * Keisha was pissed. Come to think of it, Keisha spent a lot of time being pissed. Four kids would drive anyone crazy, and D.B. was lazy, and her mother was coming over. Just great. She liked her mother, but not on Sunday when the kids were off school. She looked, and she saw her maid picking up discarded toys. She grinned. Damn, she liked having a maid. "You need to set the table," she said. "My mother is coming over." "Yes, ma'am," Singer said. "Right away, ma'am." "Have you thought any more about your new name?" "Yes, ma'am." "And what did you decide?" "I think it's your decision. You're the Mistress." Keisha grinned. "How about Ginger? That's close to Singer, but it's enough so all of your old friends -- all of your old players -- will realize your change of life." "If you wish, ma'am." "Okay. Did you iron the clothes? Clean the toilet? Wipe the counters?" Ginger nodded at each question. She liked this life. She liked her new clothes, and she liked taking orders, and she liked serving Miss Keisha. "Did you vacuum? Did you clean out the fridge? Did you wash the dishes?" "Yes, ma'am." "Did you suck D.B.'s dick? Did you give him your ass? Did you kiss his balls?" "Yes, ma'am. I know you don't like to do those sorts of things. Master has been taken care of. Even when we were balling, dude had a good shot." "Shit. I got four kids. That man's sperm has done it's damage on me." "They're great kids, ma'am." "They're a street gang. They'll be robbing liquor stores soon." "Oh, Miss Keisha. You're too hard on them." "Don't contradict me, maid. I'll spank." Keisha grinned. "I understand, ma'am. I just think the kids are great." "Well, you would. That Robert is going to be as gay as you are, isn't he?" "Robert is a special boy." "Right. He's a member of the Junior Fag Association." "Ma'am, that's terrible." Singer was laughing now. "He mat be the president of it." "He's very sweet. He's sensitive." "Ginger, you're working out just fine, okay? You're a good nanny, and you're a great domestic. And you look good in a dress. You can be my sissy forever. Don't ever leave me." "No, ma'am." "Now, make us some fish for lunch. Maybe a salad." "Yes, ma'am." "And put on your pink uniform. It brings out your nature, Sissy boy." "Yes, ma'am." Ginger walked away. This was what it was like to play basketball. There were instructions, and there were details, and there was a free flowing beauty to the game. Only the uniforms had changed. You still had assignments, and you still had teammates to assist. If you were lucky, you scored. She smiled. She felt her breasts jiggle. She heard her heels on the floor. This was her place. Copyright (c) 2019 Cassandra Morgan