Donna and Genetics and Donna and a Dress

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Babes

You might find it easier to follow this series if you start at the first and read them in order. I hope you enjoy Donna, pointed to an article in another edition of the same red-top she had shown me in the pub on the day our friendship changed course so delightfully. ‘It says here, College, that the people of the west have a genetic propensity to eat fatty food and drink alcohol, whereas your Asian does not.’ As she said this she was in the process of putting vinegar on her scampi and chips in a basket meal at the same table we had occupied back then. ‘I read something to that effect myself.’ ‘Well, I am aware that you did not study genetics during your time at University but, in the light of my experience of discussing matters of import with you I think you might shed light on another matter that this article has set me to thinking about.’ ‘I should be delighted to try but I suspect I know no more than you do.’ ‘You are too modest, College.’ She bit into a piece of scampi and I could not help but notice that everything she did seemed deliciously sexy. Her quaint use of language had been gleaned, bahis şirketleri she’d explained to me, from her attempts to educate and disconnect herself from the less than salubrious environment her mother had created in her childhood. ‘Ok, so here’s the question.’ She pointed a chip at me, ‘if people were rated on a scale of one to ten where one is heterosexual and ten is us, my mother would rate a definite and clear one. I would suggest that in view of the nature of his relationship with my mother, my dad was probably not a bender but he might, I guess, have kicked with both feet so let’s say he was a five. With me so far?’ ‘I seem to be following, thank you.’ Her knee pressed lasciviously against mine and she grinned. She had chosen this evening to be at her most androgynous. A denim jacket covered a t-shirt emblazoned with the phrase ‘Straight or Great?’ which I had not seen before. When I commented, gently, that I disapproved of so-called ‘Gay’ slogans she smiled. ‘You’re a one, you are, College. This was a protest we held when I was at school – they were building a new road bahis firmaları which was destined to come through our playground and our PTA had these printed for us to wear demonstrating our demand that the road should curve around rather than through. I think our headmaster was secretly gay and did it for a joke.’ I wasn’t sure if she was winding me up, it sounded implausible. ‘Any how, back to my family. Here’s mum, definitely established as a one on the scale and my sister has, I would suggest, followed her down that path. Certainly her Dennis has the look of a man of whom constant and exhausting demands are made although, having said that, he’d probably find making a cup of tea demanding. Anyhow, if dad was a five, which is unlikely but I’m erring on the side of scientific caution here, that would mean that their progeny had a genetic tendency to fancying the other rather than the same gender. Am I making sense?’ I nodded. ‘Well, then, explain how come I am a dyke. Not that I am complaining, mark you. But it is a scientific fact that almost all lesbians had heterosexual mothers and kaçak bahis siteleri fathers.’ ‘I believe it was a monk by the name of Mendel who first experimented with inherited characteristics, using the pea as his model.’ This was to give myself a chance to think. She smiled and her odd eyes sparkled. ‘You never disappoint, College. A bleeding fount you are, an encyclopaedia with tits.’ Her knee had insinuated itself between mine under the table. ‘My parents too showed no signs of homosexuality and yet here I am. I suspect that while some characteristics are inherited, others are innate and others are conscious decisions. I cannot remember ever feeling differently from the way I do now although I disguised myself to avoid being seen as odd by my school friends.’ ‘I did that as well.’ ‘I have always believed that my sexuality was innate but clearly not inherited. Others, like those who call themselves bi-curious are perhaps making a choice. Beyond that I confess your question exceeds my knowledge.’ ‘Au contraire. That was a most interesting explanation. To discover that I am me and not merely a construct of a bloke I never knew and my mum, the slapper, is hugely rewarding. If you finish your cider, I’ll take you home, whip of the shirt you find so offensive and give you a seeing to in my own characteristic and inimitable style.

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