Of course I do.

Without protest or reply, I sidestep into the chair. Once my leg hits the cushion, I grab the backrest with my left hand and guide myself onto the seat. I feel that, since I am in this body, I can sit on a chair like the way a man sits on a chair. Although my attempts looks silly, fumbling around and not being able to sit still, once the man behind me begins to speak, that second is when I actually find I position that is comfortable for me.

First, I try resting my back on the backrest and keep my legs and my feet straight, but that felt like I was leaving myself open or something. Next I try placing my right ankle, lifting it up, and putting it over my knee. This felt a little bit more comfortable but it didn't quite do it for me. I tried leaning forward, off the backrest, and supporting myself by placing my hands on the front part of my cushion with my finger hanging over the edge. This felt more comfortable to me than having my spine on the backrest, but I still had to do something about my legs. I could keep them straight and side by side, but that tempted me to open and close them regularly. But when the man behind me begins to talk, I take my right leg and put it over my left legs so that my right knee is in almost directly in front of my left knee and that right foot dangles in front of my left shin.

"Relax, Allen," the man says to me. The instant he says the name which was given to me at my biological birth I turn around in my seat, making sure not to disturb my positioned legs. I turn my head back and there the man who called me by my male name standing, legs apart, in the radiating light of the kitchen. From what I could see his face is much older and his hair messy. He has horn-rimmed glasses and a white lab coat. My eyes meet the eyes behind the glasses. As I stare with a madly curious stare at the man, he simply raises his right cheek as a smirk.

"How do you know that name?" I ask the man who walks from his standing position to the chair opposite mine. My eyes never leave the man's head and immediately focus upon his eyes when he finally sits down. His chin is scruffy with tiny, irritative-looking hairs on it. I would say that he has shaved recently, but hasn't commited to keeping it trimmed every other day. Everything about his face is male. Rough facial skin, bushy eyebrows, and a chunky Adam's apple contribute to his manliness.

"Is that the question you should be asking right now?" the man raises his eyebrows as he asks. He stares into my eyes waiting for a response. For some reason I can't seem to keep my eyes focused on his glare.

Then a voice from behind speaks, diverting both the man's and my attention to it. "Don't listen to him. He does this all the time," the female voice says. After the last word is said in the voice, rhythmically spaced taps on the hardwood are heard. I look horizontally to the back and glance down. I see a pair of women's feet slipped into lace-up, 6 inch stiletto heels, of a light pink design. Connected to those feet were toned legs of a woman, wrapped with dark denim and striped with bleach in some parts of the pants for a faded effect. Belting this pair of pants at the waist was a brown, multiweave belt with a brass buckle. This belt contoured with the itt-bitty waistline of this woman.

Above the belt, see-through, stretched lace made into a off-the-shoulder, shirt-like dress clings to the slim and busty body of a woman. The top has full-length sleeves and thin shoulder straps. The lace clinging to the body is colored a dark brown color that is at least seven shades darker than the skin under it. The skin is a light tan with a lack of tan lines. Part of the belly shows at the bottom of the garment and two large breasts, sized at 34D, seem to protrude out the chest of this woman.

The face of this woman looks Asian in a way like mine. This is seen is her jawline and the way her eyes are shaped. She has a pinkish lip gloss that shines in the light. From atop her head, fashioned in a stylish bun and held up with a pair of brown lacquered chopsticks, flows silky blonde hair.

The woman walks towards the table, clicking her heels upon the hardwood floor, holding a tray of steaming hot food. Nearing the table, the woman bends down to set the tray of food in the middle of the table, and as she does this, her body displays the many curves found from head to toe.

Now sitting down in the chair in between us, she finds that both the man sitting opposite me and my eyes has wandered upon her body. To try to break the silence she loudly calls out to both of us. "Let's eat!" she says diving into the bowls of food for the first spoonfuls, thus breaking the silence and constant eye wandering.

During the meal, I'm introduced to the couple sitting at the table with me. The woman's name is Sasha and she is about three to five years older than me. Her partner's name is Luke Holden and he is at least 30 years old. He is a doctor and this place is actually his clinic. He doesn't get alot of clients these days because his profession is not really as legit, even though he is a professional. Dr. Holden's second floor is his living quarters and the first floor is his kitchen and clinic area. When I drop my shy attitude and start talking with them, I find out that Sasha isn't the girlfriend of Luke, but just a very good friend of his. I am unable to connect Dr. Holden and Sasha with a rational and common relationship.

The meal ends with Sasha taking our plates and every other plate and putting it into the sink, but not washing it. Instead she asks Luke to do it and he courteously obliges. Sasha then takes a brown and pink purse from the couch and puts it over her shoulder. "I'm off to work now," Sasha tells us, caring to wave goodbye as she walks out the front door. Now I'm left alone with Luke but he quickly leaves into the kitchen to wash the dishes. This gives me the oppurtunity to go upstairs and inspect my bags.

Entering my room, I am not surprised to find that my bags are untouched. I can say that I'm in peace to do my business. I close the door and walk to the bed. The first bag I come to is the purse. A silver emblem tells me the designer of the purse is Gucci. The purse is mainly colored white but it is designed with white, black, and pink leather patchwork and white side ties. Like the emblem, the zipper on top is silver. The purse's handle, like the bag, is white and made of leather.

The contents of the purse is common, and it's mainly more empty than full. The only things I find in the purse is a wallet and a small bottle of lip gloss. I ignore the lip gloss and go into the wallet. In the wallet I only find a few things. In it I find an amount of $550 organized in the money compartment. I flip a flap and I find something both bizarre and amazing.

I find a I.D. card with my exact mugshot of my female face. I quickly look at the name and find that my name is Marianne Carpo and I am indeed, 19 years old. I can see that I am indeed Filipino mixed with European descent, with the Filipino side overpowering the European side. I'm unsure which part of Europe I'm from but I doubt that I would find out soon. But now I can finally speak to someone and never be held down by not knowing my name. As I check every bit of detail on the card, I hear Dr. Holden's voice.