Rainy Sunday afternoon, Chianti upstairs
‘You’re letting that bitch take you out? After that nasty interview fiasco?’
‘She’s rich. She’s gorgeous. And she’s the looking-after type; I want to be looked after. And I haven’t had sex with a woman for nearly three years.’
Tiffany’s situation is far worse than mine. Being under the roof, she gets the leaks. They are about to chuck her off Disability Living Allowance. Oedipuss has cat breast cancer. The view from her bedsit is the Asda car-park. Her new genitalia remain untested.
‘Tiff – is there anything you miss about being Timothy?’
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