As her actions intensified and thighs tensed against my head, a gasp followed. Then a single word, uttered with clarity that took my breath away."Fuck..."A perfect strut vowel, cut glass British, honed through years of elocution lessons to prepare her. To impress the dignitaries and diplomats and suitors that would one day kiss her hand as she curtseyed the way a Disney princess might. And I'd sullied the vowel. Driven her to surround it with consonants her parents would be horrified to hear pass. Weighty, and the feeling from both my fingertips and my chest insistedthat these things weren't cartoon balloons. They were warm, they had akind of lumpy, kind of grainy sort of feel under my fingers. They mightbe the first pair I'd handled, but they felt very, very real. And Icould feel them from both sides."I'm a girl," I said. "I'm really a girl." I let go of my breasts, putmy hands on the counter beside of the sink, and leaned forward until Iwas standing on tiptoe and my nose was only. More

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