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"Who are you?" He asked.
…Uhm, what?
"Huh?" Well that slipped out.
"I asked, who are you?"
"W-what do you mean? I'm Amelia, remember?"
Does this person have multiple personality disorder, I wonder. How could you ask who I am just after you had your dick shoved deep in me?
"No." His answer was full of conviction. "You're not Amelia." He definitely sounded so sure.
That made me raise my eyebrow as I eyed him, questioning him silently how he can say so. I didn't correct him at all and just waited for his explanation.
"Amelia doesn't like dressing up." He said.
"That doesn't mean I couldn't, no? How could you say that? I'm a girl too, you know. I too want to dress up for a person I like, for myself." I rebutted.
"That may be so. But you don't like me at all. At least, not enough to want to dress up for me."
I just shrugged in response, though I didn't deny that too.
