"I'm not exactly dressed for dancing."His eyes twinkled. "So?" Mike, I'm-"He took my other hand as well and swayed to the rhythm. "You're what?"I felt...myself moving, pulled into the dance. "Mike, middle-aged moms don't dance in the middle of the plaza on a Sunday afternoon."He lifted his hand and I twirled under it, breathtakingly close for a moment before we fell back into position again. "They can if they want to." He dropped his hands slightly. "Do you want me to stop?"No, I realized. I. "He grinned. "Some of them, maybe. A lot of them would be nothing but turned on. It *is* a turn-on, you know, to see you and know that underneath you're not exactly ... well, you know what I mean."That was the sexiest part of it for me too. To look like a girl but secretly be a boy under my skirts."Anyway," he picked up the paper bag he brought from Chardsville, "I have the stuff for your shot. Let's go in the living room, it'll be more comfortable." What shot?" The injection we were talking. More

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