" Okay," he said. "I'll meet you there." He turned several times on his way out as if to convince himself that I wasn't some phantom out of a hallucination. I gathered my things and followed a ways behind him.I sat in my car for several minutes before turning on the ignition. Alone, honestly examining my feelings, I had to admit that I found the idea arousing, more because this was so unlike me, so unlike the routine of my life, than because of any sexual urge. Within a short time I would be revealing myself to a stranger in a way that only my husband and a few old boyfriends had seen. In person, that is. The photo that had started this had revealed me to untold numbers. I wondered what he would want me to do, what poses he would ask for. I realized then that I didn't even know his name. I shook my head and then covered my face with my hands. And then I started the car.I got the wine coolers at a quick mart and drove to the motel. I decided to park on a side street on the off chance. "I know, I know. But she does look amazing." I did like her boots."I ordered a uniform skirt from stores. An impulse, a knee jerk response tosomething I'd been mulling over since Olivia had given me that necklaceand earrings, which I'd hardly taken off by the way. The skirt hung on mywardrobe door for two days, a couple of times I took it down and held itagainst me, like I were weighting it up in a shop. Once or twice I reachedunder the hem and tested the satin lining between thumb and index finger.It wasn't a trendy skirt, we'd never have sold any like that in the shopwhere I'd played at being Kirsty, but it was an easy one to experimentwith. Nobody could criticise the style - it was uniform."Are you really going to do this?" I asked myself. Clint was watching,sneering as usual. The skirt hung in its usual position; a brand new, onlyjust unpackaged pair of black opaque tights hung from my fingers. Insteadof my usual commando raids on the clothes section in the local Tesco tobuy.
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