I grabbed her hand with mine.“This is not a good idea,” I scolded. Amy bit down on her lower lip and whispered softly,“I just want to feel you.�...�“No,” I countered.Amy was persistent. She withdrew her hand from under the flap of my sleeping bag and in one motion, she stripped out of her t-shirt, baring her small 36 C-cup perky boobs.“Put your shirt back on!” I said.Amy fell on to her back and pulled off her shorts, then sat back up next to my cot.“Tell me,” Amy whispered, “I don’t have a hot. Did they see me as a fraud?Could they tell? How could they possibly tell? I glanced at thiscleavage, my bare legs. I thought of my vagina, my bush. But I had nopurse. I was holding a man's wallet and a pack of cigarettes. God, Ifelt lost. I had envisioned the ride up the escalator as a glorious moment, but Ifelt so out of place. I made my way toward the make-up counters and myapprehension only grew. I lurked on the outer edges of the cosmeticarea. The attendants, in their white smocks. More

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