I hesitated before entering but my bladder wouldn't wait. I gently easedthe door open and entered the room. Several women were at a mirror doingtheir ...air and makeup. Smiling as I passed I entered a stall and quicklylocked the door behind me.I lifted my dress and slip, pulled down my stockings and panties and satdown, thrilled that I had passed a major test in being Kristen; I hadbeen accepted as a girl in a ladies rest room. It had been so easy thatI couldn't understand why I had been. "So I told her his name."Didn't mean a thing to me, some sort of artist and writer," I said."I know him," she replied. "I taught him several years ago on an evening course. They were a brilliant group that year, sparked of one another, all older students, but they really worked hard, and produced good stuff. He was very clever, but always had an oblique angle on things. You should get on well with him." You have to be joking, of course," I said. "He's coming in to rip my work apart, and I am. There were a couple of laughs, increasing my nervousness. The sound of those laughs nearly cramped my stomach. A line of sweat broke out on my brow, and I cleared my throat nervously. She saved me that day. The technician moving the light let me see the audience. Directly in front of me, a few rows back was Samantha Jones, or ‘Miss Samantha Jones’ as the unprivileged called the captain of the dance squad and Undisputed Campus Goddess. I thought guys would have left behind the concept of an. They want their privacy when they dress.The women came trooping on in about 20 minutes later. All were dressed in their new clothes, but left their soft leather leggings and moccasins on. I didn’t figure them for boots just yet. I would let them see how helpful they were.We sat an ate powered eggs and lion bacon, along with some of the fried potato things that really did taste a lot like potatoes but had a little wilder taste and were purple. Many glances were going around the table. I did.
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