Monroe carriedit to the guest room and began to vacuum the rug.As he moved the vacuum around the room, Monroe's feet began to stinghim. Monroe knew it...was the heels. He was well aware that they were notmade to be worked in. They were supposed to be worn for the pleasure ofthe eye and not for their functionality.After he finished with the room, Monroe removed his heels and put on apair of his sneakers. The all black sneakers were the least overtlymasculine shoes he had beside his garishly. I knew the choice was mine. My arms reach up around his neck from behind and embraced him. I could feel the firm tips of my breasts pressed against his back, and the softness of my bosom comfortably snugged at the base of his shoulder blades. “Oh madam. It isn’t right”“Please call me Rani. No more madam. Okay?”I ran my hands across his chest; my fingers thread themselves through the coarse hairs. My cheek rested against his back for a moment, and I pulled him closely to me. I gently turned him. More

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