When I didn’t respond, she glanced my way. “I hope you’re not too young to have a glass of wine?” A smile crept across her face as it turned slightly pink, about the same shade as her lips. “No, No. That’s fine.” I said, not admitting I did not know a Chardonnay from a lamp post. I knew wine came from California or France and was either red or white. Otherwise, my only experience with it was a glass someone handed to me at Marcie and Tads’ wedding two years before. She set my wine down and handed me the paper. “I had your notes cleaned up, they look so much better typed. Don’t you think?” The paper contained points that needed to be included in the contract I intended to enter with a supplier of plants and flowers for delivery the following spring. The grower was new to us, I had only met one of the partners, a lady who had stopped by the shop during the summer. She and her husband wanted to expand their greenhouse operation and sought new business in our area. Under the. They felt soft and smooth, I coulddimple the feminine layer of fat underneath and feel my fingers doingit. Up my waist I ran them until they found the bottom of my ribs andthen I felt, through my breasts, what it felt like to have their weightgently cupped by warm hands. Did I think of them as my breasts? Wellthey must have been, because I was holding them and I could feel them.Almost reluctantly I let my hands fall to my side. I was probably goingto need to blink any minute but I couldn't look away from the woman infront of me - the woman I had seemingly become.That heatless haze rose again and when I could see her clearly the womanin the mirror was clothed, in a very smart dark blue, uniform dress. Myreflection and I both looked down at the same time and we were properlyidentical. Her dress was mine - I who had never ever worn a dressbefore. But this dress meant more than just women's clothing, it was anurse's dress - knee length and flared. I wore a little fob watch pinnedto my.
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