’ I manage to squeak that much out. I am breathing hard and there is no point in lying. ‘It’s me, Judy, Cara. I am just finishing myself up.’ ...ow that rum and coke really worked it’s charm. I wouldn’t be saying this to anyone else otherwise. My pussy is pulsating and calls for my fingers, they are debating whether to open the stall door. It is a stall for invalids so it can fit a wheelchair, let alone two girls.‘Oh, my god, Judy… I never would have believed it! I am really surprised at you,. ”“I know that. And I can’t ask her because it wouldn’t be ethical or right. She made it clear what she wants and that she isn’t interested in a one-time thing.”“I’m pretty sure that she’s lying to herself for some reason.”“Even if she is, it’s not my place to ask her.”“The tension is going to grow until you do it, or she moves out. I don’t see any other way.”“How the hell do you know that?” I asked.“Have I been wrong yet?” she asked with a twinkle in her eye. “I watch; I listen; I contemplate.. Growing up in the 1960's gender roles were massively enforced andstifling; the fear of being outed was palpable. Men's clothing was, andis, purpose driven, rough, confining and restrictive in all aspects; theform and function of it was strictly enforced as though it was auniform. Women's clothing on the other hand was about freedom andbeauty. Men's clothing is boring; women's clothing exciting. Womenexpressed themselves through their clothing, men weren't supposed toexpress themselves at. “You were supposed to never be over at my house again but that didn’t work out either,” I quipped at her.She checked her cell phone and said “Uh-oh, Duray is angry,” she told Cheyenne.“How mad?” Cheyenne looked concern but not entirely worried –almost like it amused her.“He wants us at my house five minutes ago and he said we have to leave our clothes here!” Barbara Jean showed Cheyenne the text and they both stood up and immediately began to undress right in my living room.It was a good thing.