Her hand went up to push a wisp of long blonde hair that had fallen forward into her face."You've still got a smudge on your nose," Morgan declared."T...anks..." Tight-lipped with rage, Fran brushed past her husband's brother, already annoyed with herself for over-reacting to his brash manners when she had already promised herself that she wouldn't.Alone in the kitchen, Morgan looked around at the bright yellow decor and headed for the refrigerator. He found a quart container of orange juice and. High class stores like thisusually had people willing to help and not judge or laugh at him. Heneeded someone who could help him find what he wanted. He took off hisclothes and she took some measurements of his chest and hips and legs.Then she asked him, "Do you know what kind of dress you want?" What do you mean?" he asked her."Sir, do you want a gown, something like for a date, evening to look goodand facy. Or something for the every day to wear casually?"That was a question. This was going. More

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