Desi PISS
Halfway through, we were talking to each other where I started asking him "So, are you married sir?" He looks back at me with his grin and replies "Yes, married one beautiful wife in Pakistan, but I have three girlfriends here ha ha" I said "Cool" he stared down at my legs for a bit then he asked "so, do you have a boyfriend?" Confused I replied that I did not. "What? Sexy young girl like you have no boyfriend? You have beautiful body my friend" he remarked to which I was stunned but borderline blushing towards, "No sir, I am not a girl...I am a boy" I replied embarrassingly...the shock on his face as he takes another look at me thoroughly, I can't blame him...I looked and dresses like a teenage butch girl with a short emo haircut. All of a sudden I realized that I left my wallet back at my friend's place, as soon as I told him this...he was furious. He stopped the car and yelled at me "Are you lying? I need money I save it so I can go to pakistan, I miss my wife's fuck. I miss giving. In those few moments, the professional in me urged me to flee, reminding me that my duties were complete and nothing further could be done. Once Christy was scanned into the national healthcare database, she would be tagged by the police, the Chinese, and whoever else wanted her body. The other parts of me warred in my thoughts, sentimental and emotional parts that I wasn't supposed to use, and they urged me to stay.Later that night, I sat in the chair next to her bed. "Severe epileptic convulsions with probable brain damage" was the doctor's diagnosis. The door opened. Instead of the nurse a man in fashionable leather stepped in, closing the door behind him. When I looked into his face I spit out in wonder: "Mr. Fuckit!" Excuse me," he deadpanned."That's the last words you said to me, in the garage, on that day. You said 'fuck it, take care of her.' I didn't know what your name was."He chuckled. "An appropriate name under the circumstances Mr. Hughes. My name is Victor." He offered.
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