She smiled to herself as she thought that she wasn’t helping matters much – at least for the boys who sat in the front row in front of her desk.He... desk was one of the few desks in the school that didn’t have a modesty panel. Before her transformation in the hotel room the lack of a modesty panel on the front of her desk meant nothing since she usually wore pants suits to class. Since that night in the hotel room when her exhibitionistic tendencies were awakened she had taken to wearing skirts. Most of hers were done in tattoo shops, not in prison. They were too well done to be inmate art.“I like your tats,” I said.“Want to see the rest?” she asked quietly.“Not right now,” I said.“Do you have any?” she asked.“Just one, and no you can’t see it.” I said.“Later then,” she said. “You know I’m all sweet smelling you could at least hug me.”“Not a chance,” I said with a smile.“You are gay,” she said.“If you say so,” I agreed.“So who’s the lucky guy?” she asked.“I haven’t met him yet,” I. Then the engine stalled. The car rolled quietly down Main Street until friction and gravity killed its momentum. Turning the key made a clicking sound like a roulette wheel… he’d lost. The next morning, church bells woke him to find a half-dozen cookie crunchers peeking in the car windows. ‘BOO!’ Squeals of laughter faded as they ran down the street and into The First Baptist Church. Bill got out, stretched, and then walked over the ‘Car Haven Garage’. The placed appeared deserted, so he left. He watched, and felt a part of himself die. She pressed her hand against the window and he extended his own. Through the glass, their fingers brushed against each other. The last bit of connection, the last tie, was cemented through the glass. It crumbled as she dropped her hand. She must have seen something in his face, some sign that this wasn’t okay. Her window rolled down, and he ducked his head to keep it level with hers. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry too,’ he said, ‘Can’t you be with.
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