She flung herself out of bed with a violent spasm of stimulation. As she began her inspired task she stoped a few times in the act and thought about it. She wasn't thinking, merely enjoying the physical sensations. True, she hadn't understood why the Communist Party didn't support the Equal Rights Amendment - even after Angela Davis had explained why. But she regained her concepts of how one's perception and attitudes altered with the distinction of masculine/ feminine.

 

She didn't try to remind herself that even though she was a man, and enjoyed thinking femininely at times, she also had inescapable biases of feminine/ masculine. These merely served as orientation points she thought - like right or left handedness.

 

Having finished costuming herself and cleansing her bowels, junion strutted out onto the streets. Nine o'clock monday morning. All Capitalism's children scurried hither and thither in the early sunlight. Junior reflected on her soft, white flesh. She did, sometimes, feel like a honky in a transient hotel room. But for now, she was off.

Off to find a pigion hole, a classification, a role.

Oh God How She trembled at the tought of it!

 

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