Pale, messy, sexy Julie with the whiskey voice. Julie, who I couldn’t get out of my mind, for whom I’d written a song in fifteen minutes, whose ru...y lips kept my inspired all day, for whom I shaved and washed and dressed my jazzy best. And as my black coat cut through the air like a blade, I found myself walking down Bleeker eager to meet her again. I entered the Village Gate, and there she was, wearing black leggings and white blouse (a little more upscale for the Gate), her mass of blond hair. I would need a new bikini if I managed to get past Chaos. I looked in the mirror as I was about to walk out. My breasts were bulging over the top of my bikini and my shrinking waist made my widening hips even more obvious. My sleek athleticism was slowly being replaced by soft erotic bimbo curves. Even my face looked softer. I snarled at the mirror, trying to look fierce. I stopped when two of my colleagues walked in the locker room and looked at me strangely. I walked into the arena and saw. More

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