I recently met a cute boy at the bar where I work in Los Angeles. He had just moved here from San Francisco, and it wasn’t long before we were making out while I played with his butt. At the end of the night, I asked for his number.
“Just so you know, if we’re gonna hang out, I do drag,” he said while typing into my phone. His tone was almost apologetic, as if admitting something shameful.
“Does that mean I can’t play with your butt?” I asked, trying to be playful.
Jeff Leavell 