First

“So where did you get those from,” Robert asked.
“I used to live in Miami and that’s where I got them done,” the nonchalant voice quickly answered.
“Oh no, not your boobs,” Robert clarified. “I mean your shoes. Where’d you get them from? I think. . . there cute.”
“My shoes? Oh I picked them up from a market downtown,” the voluptuous woman answered. “But that isn’t something you should be worried about now,” she continued as she inched further, pressing her body harder into Robert.
“Um, Shoshanna, Shoshanna,” Robert move himself away from the woman, “I don’t wanna do that. I just want to talk.”
“Okay. You wanna talk, well then talk. You got forty-five minutes left.” The woman seemed relieved by Robert’s statement.
Robert was surprised by her frankness. Almost as surprised that he was actually going through with this. Since he was a young boy he always knew he was different. In high school when friends made lewd comments about attractive female teachers, Robert cared more about what she was wearing and how her hair was styled, wishing he could fit the clothes and have hair as beautiful. He never acted on any of his feelings because he didn’t know how to go about doing it but that would all change with his next question. . .