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The fluffy girlI didn't feel like a lesbian anymore. And certainly not a lesbian whore. Let fat Blanche have her freebie; I was out of business as of this minute. Time to get out of this room, too. Out of the apartment. Out onto the street where some kindly cabdriver might, for a small fee, condescend to take me where I wanted to go. Where I might even spend the rest of my life. Oh no, not in a hotel; wasn't there a great big old mansion out in Denver? But to the hotel first, of course, and without wasting a phone call, dear old Jerome wouldn't mind. After all, I still hadn't answered him and he had been absolutely sweet about not pestering me. Take all the time you need, darling. Which was just time enough to kick the habit, the lovely lesbian habit that wasn't so lovely anymore. Hooray! And off to Jerome's hotel now; what blushing young maiden would even dream of accepting a marriage proposal over the telephone? And so Jerome and I were married and lived happily ever after. Well, no, not quite. But we didn't do badly either ...» |
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