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I slowly slid the shirt off over his cold shoulders and stood back to admire him. Now he was half-naked, I could see the wounds the coroner had left, ...he incision where he'd cut into the dead flesh, looking for something I could never understand. Thank god for the abbreviated autopsy. They'd found him – the police – slumped on a bed in a cheap flat on the bad side of town, dead. Overdose, they'd said, and the coroner had agreed. Heroin. Suicide. There had been a broken syringe lying beside the. After I was in this new blouse which was very similar to wearing a bra he got me off his lap and started draping the sari around me. He kept fondling all parts of my body while dressing me and I also enjoyed it. Then I put on a very high pair of heels and tried to walk around to see if all was ok. In fact this new frock like petticoat was much easier to walk in over the regular one. When I walked around a bit and took a good look at myself in the mirror in various poses including bending over I. More

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