”Sam said, “For a couple of hours of work, I would like to see $20 to $30. If I made something like $100 per session, that would make it worth my ...hile to change my plans and stick around to do it again a few days later.”I said, “I don’t think we are talking about the same kind of numbers here, Sam. I don’t want to have you feeling like you were cheated later. How about we agree to make your cut either $100 or 25% of the profits, whichever is higher. As I said, I’m looking at the long term. She raised her small fist and knocked upon the door. After a few footsteps, the door swung open.Her eyes fell upon a large, tall man. He looked to be in his late thirties, with a full head of jet black hair, smiling chocolate brown eyes. His origins seemed to be middle eastern. He towered over her. She noticed the towel around his waist and the one drying his hair. He froze seeing her.She cleared her throat, "I know, I'm a little early, but my bus..."He wasn't listening, his eyes couldn't peel. I'm in the driveway looking around making sure I don't see anybody Iknow, or they will laugh and tell everyone I'm wearing girl's clothes. Ireally shouldn't worry though because we've only been living here ashort time so no one really knows me except for Max some boy I met wholives across the street from us."Hey sissy brother, isn't that your friend with his skateboard?" I turnand feel my hair tie fall out as I see Max walking up the driveway withhis skateboard.Oh, know as I wait for him to. Images cascade through your mind until they coalesce intosomething coherent. You're in a club. You're dancing. Young men andwomen all dressed in dark but tight clothing. Short skirts. Tightpants. All designed to announce that they're interested in one thing:sex. You flash in and out of moments in time. At one point you get alook at yourself, glancing in a mirror on a wall, on the dance floor.But what you see is impossible. You're that girl! You're dressed justas she was, and there's a.