Using her shoe, I propped the bathroom door open slightly, and went back to where we got off and got our packs, and carried them into the bathroom. Wi...h the bathroom light on, I could see her more clearly. She was a very comely girl, nicely shaped and attractive. She had dirty blonde hair, and brown eyes. Her appearance backed up the apparent attitude with what clearly appeared to me to be an affectation of angst and anger, the kind teenagers sometimes drape over themselves like a cloak.She was. What you are. How you wantto be. You WANT to walk through that door, into your confirmed femininity.You understand the power of lipstick and the thrill of a perm. For you,lucky sisters, a Beauty Salon has become a home, a verification of yourinnate womanhood. Bless you. And Bless the women who accept you as one oftheir sisterhood as you sit under the dryer having your nails polished.For others of you, Forced Sissies of Fictionmania, that door into thatBeauty Salon signals a humiliation about to. More

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