"I reached behind my back, pretending to smooth my hair. The buttons strained and my tits nearly popped out of the halter-top. Peter's mouth was wide ...pen. The waitress came and put our drinks on the table."Then I leaned forward and sipped my drink through the straw. Like I said, my top was smaller than it should have been so my tits practically fell out. I had an audience, the three guys at my table, three guys at the next table, and God knows who else. Someone kept putting drinks in front of. Marcia hadbeen "butching it up" during the last year or so of her increasinglyinfrequent and truncated visits with Phoebe. Before these scheduledvisitations, Marcia would jam a baseball cap over her long hair, wearher "manliest" girl jeans, and throw on a bulky sweatshirt in someneutral color, basically any color fog might take. By this time in hertransition, the pretense of having to appear as "male" made her almostphysically ill, as if she'd been required to wear a corpse's filthy,bug-ridden. Come to think of it, I haven't sent her any signalseither. I was just so preoccupied with having a good time. The male sideof desperately wanted to kiss her goodnight. I chickened out and insteadhugged her."I had a great time," I said."So did I. See you bright and early for home room!" she said smiled andwalked inside her house.I walked back to my car and drove away. As I drove home I debated tomyself whether or not I should've went in for the kiss. Was the lack ofsignals a signal itself? I. Ok he will be here in a minute, calm down. I sat on the sofa and let my long red hair fall down over my bare shoulders, noticing my legs looked amazing in the expensive sheer stockings. The buzzer rang and I nearly jumped out my skin, I was in a daze, a reverie whatever you want to call it. Crap, he was here, outside at my door. I slowly got up and buzzed him in, my hands hardly able to hold the phone. I tottered on my impossibly high heels to the door and opened it slowly. He stood there.