But it was her sunken eyes—an equal mixture of blue and red—that told me she hadn’t slept in a while. She might be pretty. She was about five-fo...ot-eight or so, but with the baggy clothes it was hard to say anything else about her body. ‘You look like you have a deadline, Charlie.’ ‘How would you know?’ ‘I’ve been there…many times.’ She mumbled something and then raised her voice, ‘Come in and let’s talk.’ She led me into a very large but old studio apartment. Everything was in one room. If you're reading this article,you're most likely at your computer monitor, which means that you'vealready pulled up a chair.Okay, good.In this article, I'm going to review the splendid art of a magnificent(and very beautiful, too, by the way) transgender artist who goes by thename of Kimberly Wilder. Several Yahoo groups are dedicated to her artand that of her friends. She has--or had--also posted some of her workon various other websites. It's harder to find now, though, it seems.Signing her. (My first story.)I was almost 19 and it was a cool autumn evening driving our friend Harry home from work. My friend Kate was in the passenger seat as usual. She could not drive a stick shift well on the wet valley back roads. So, I was driving her car and Harry chattering away about his older brother moving in w/ him for awhile. I didn't pay him much attention as Kate and I were too busy singing along to an old 80s song on the radio. I always like to take a different route to my destination. I'll prove it to you." Carol started unbuttoning her blouse.This was just plain strange.She removed the blouse and stripped off her bra. Her argument was looking just a little better to me. "Here, I'm going to burn it. I want to show you how unimportant it is to me."I grabbed for the bra but she evaded me. "This is silly, Carol. Burning that bra only makes you need to buy another one." I'm going to burn it."I started to chase after her and she ran across the bed to escape. I realized that I.