First I put the skirt on. It wasso short it barely covered by butt, much less anything else. I looked atthe mirror and pushed my hip to the side and leaned a little, pulling myknees inward to meet in a girlish pose. It almost looked believable withthe makeup and hair job the girls had done to me. I put the shirt onnext, careful to mind my hair and makeup, as I was being warned. It hada bra-like padding in the chest area so the wearer wouldn't need a braherself. I didn't have anything to fill out the top so it didn't matter,but I was relieved I wouldn't be wearing one none-the-less. Finally Itook the knee-high socks they gave me and sat down to put them on. Iwatched in the mirror, as I had been advised, to try and do it with asmuch caution and awareness of exposing my underwear as I could. Nomatter what I tried I couldn't figure out how to do it without flashingan up-skirt shot at myself in the mirror. Finally I grabbed the shoes.Mary-Janes, with a high heel. Thankfully they weren't a. Sarah’s wet eyes whipped to the sound. A staggering, lumpy shadow straightened a toppled trash bin and cursed. Loudly, slurred. The stream of consciousness, just out of earshot, was interrupted by a peal of nervous laughter. The dark face of the figure turned towards the woman by the strip mall, across the small parking lot. “‘Aye, you!” It happened again. Blood rushed to Sarah’s head, filling her ears with static. Her senses strained- no, they sharpened. She could taste his acrid sweat on the breeze, smell his boozey breath. His heart beat slowly in his throat. She could practically feel his pulse under her fingertips already. Under her lips. He was still yards away but she could taste him in the back of her mouth. The drunkard stumbled forward, propelled by something unknowable to Sarah. If she’d moved her eyes from the man to the window she would have understood; as her lungs filled with the stink of him she seemed to inflate. Her limp hair shined and floated around her glowing.
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