.. Yes, I am... I have a... have a pretty face... No! I'm a man!" He turned to her, fell to his knees, and began to sob. "P..please, 'Lita, stop..... stop this!" Merciless, Graciela went on: "A man? Once you were, yes. But look at your tits. Feel them, like you used to feel mine." Helplessly he stared at his shapely torso, then felt his breasts, cupping them with scarlet-tipped fingers. The nipples were exquisitely sensitive. "Does that feel like a man's chest?" Through tears he. All was good. She knew, he had no idea, maybe, but: ‘OhhhhBaabbbbAAAAAAAABBbbyy.’ He was six feet she thought and guessed 185 lbs. Boxer’s build. Very short, white hair. Tightly cropped white beard. Large, all seeing, deep blue, very young, eyes. He shook the Doorman’s hand as if they knew each other well. He appeared to know no one he passed on the way to the bar and was greeted by the Bartender with a smile, a hand shake over the bar, and a double shot of Glenlivet, up. He did not sit or lean. More

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