Your man. A figure of speech, that’s all it was. She was in his bed, that was enough. His hands were under her sweater, tugging it up. She instincti...ely lifted her arms as he pulled it over her head. ‘You’re not wearing that shirt.’ His eyes fell to her chest and the lacy pink bra she wore. ‘Why are you wearing that bra? That bra is for me. I don’t need you prancing around a bar with that flimsy thing under your clothes. What panties are you wearing?’ Ally laughed out loud and Jack gave her a. I bet you didn't know you were going into therapy when you started thisstory.Anyway, my wife and Pippa set up two job interviews for me. So, if youwant to meet me at the garden centre and have a giggle at my mildlyfeminised state you best hurry as I won't be there much longer.The first interview was with Heather at her salon. I didn't know theposition so I arrived classily dressed. A nice suit, and heels. Bag on myshoulder. I was trying to portray a professional woman. I was aprofessional. More

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