- Story 17-
- EIGHT SECOND RIDE-
- Could he stick out any more like a sore thumb? With the amount of people staring at him, he’d expected to look down and see a frilly pink dress stretched obscenely over his torso and hips with a pair of stiletto heels on his feet, but he was only wearing his usual pressed black slacks and white button down. Maybe he should have worn that red flannel he had shoved into the back of his closet. At least he’d match ninety percent of the people here if that were the case. His work clothes were a dead giveaway that he didn’t belong here.