This is a story told through femme lips. Chapter 1: Femme lips as confusion As I attempted to respectfully put a $5 bill in the dancer’s garter – my desire locked tightly in my core so no one would be harmed – you snapped your head towards me, a spark of knowing flashing into your eye. “You’re not straight!” You exclaimed above the music, the voices, the revelry of the bar. The next thing I knew you had pounced on me. Quite literally. The music, voices, and clinking of glassware still...