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He was dead. She had... killed him. She had stuck theneedle in her leg and finished him off, without even thinking.Stop it. Jesse closed her eyes, calmed her nerves. Stop. Nobody's dead.You're alive. You're safe. She tested herself. What's your favoritepizza? What's your favorite movie? She smiled at the comfortablememories.Pepperoni. And Ghostbusters.Jesse stared into the mirror. James didn't die. James is just a name,he is me, and I'm still here. Jesse and James, they're both me. I ammore than my name. I am more than my body.Her blue eyes blinked slowly.I wanted this, she realized. I've fantasized about this since I was 12.Memories of James' youth flooded back. Had it been that long agoalready? Had it been that long since James lay awake in bed as a teen,fantasizing about life as a girl? How long ago had he shoved thosethoughts into a private box labeled 'fetish only?'Her heart pounded in her chest. I get to experience the life I alwaysthought was impossible - too unrealistic to be. There were a couple of important items that I needed to take care of right now. I went to a cabinet on the non-slave accessible end of the dungeon and pulled out a pair of scissors. These I gave to Thistle. "Cut off all her clothes and dump them in the trash." I ordered. "If she isn't shaved, spread her in that rack and give her a good going over. When I get back, we will give her a good cleaning out." By now, Cindy had stopped spewing and was listening with her jaw wide open as if she was not believing what was going down here - which she probably wasn't. I started back for the stairs, then turned around and said, "By the way, girls, meet the new slave girl, Tassle." A name I had thought of last night when I expected events to happen just as they did. All that was left upstairs of Cindy was a suit jacket and a purse. And her car. When these disappeared, all that would be left would be the slave girl, Tassle. The jacket went into the bottom of the trash can. There was.
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