Sanity intruded on my thoughts. What was I thinking? She was a drag queen, wasn't she? A drag queen was a guy. She was a guy, my little Barbara, the blonde cutie I'd rescued in the bar by accidentally breaking her g-string and touching her emerging privates.
So it was a very bad idea to go and see if I could find her, see if I could get her to kiss me again and see if it still seemed the same as it had when I kissed the lovely bride in my arms, I recalled her wonderful girlie fragrance and the soft curves of her girlish body pressed against me.