Mascara thickened and curled his lashes.There were a pair of shoes in the closet. They had three inch heels, and Martinsohn hesitated uncertain tha... he could manage such things. He put them on and took and experimental step, ready to catch himself if he fell. It seemed almost natural, as easy as walking in flats. Better yet, he thought to himself, they make me walk in a more feminine manner, hips swaying invitingly. He actually giggled at the thought.Ray Martinsohn made one last try. I didn’t care how it looked. It was fucking hot.I arrived at the theatre for his “private workshop”, wearing my usual tight jeans. Upon entering the small theatre, I noticed an exclusive light on the stage where a table rested. There was also a tub of body grease! Suddenly, I heard a disembodied voice, “Please go to the stage.” I did, but was a little taken aback by responding only to a voice. “Where are you?”, I nervously said. “I’ll be down soon”, he responded. “Don’t keep me. More

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