Maybe she was famous or disfigured somehow. Maybe she was only playing games with his simmering imagination. Otherwise, they could’ve been any other...naked couple on the planet, walking each other home through antiquated streets at dawn’s end of The Carnival. The knuckles of her spine moved with a durable yet delicate kind of precision, as if she were all sinew, bone and lace. Her ass held the shape of inflated tear drops, flexing wearily as she navigated. Slow. Sure of the way. She was. Though she had said they had a presence of T-girls and cross dressers there, he decided to check them out first as himself. He went to the first one, and after one beer, decided the “gurls” there were a bit too outrageous for him. But the next two places he went to looked quite promising. The last one he stopped in appeared to be mainly gay men, with a few lesbian groups who seemed to disappear around midnight, leaving the place mostly male. After another busy week of work, Becca was ready to. More

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