Page 5 of Precise Justice

“I want you to make an appointment to see me next week. Go home, talk it over, think it through very carefully. If we are in agreement, we can begin the drug regimen then.

“Why isn’t his father here? Is he still with you?” Friedman asked.

“He lets me make the decisions,” Priscilla answered.

“I see, well, I’m going to insist he sign a consent form. I’ll let you take it home and bring it back next week,” Freidman said.

“That’s it for now,” Friedman said.

He looked at Robbie and said, “I believe you will become much happier. In time you will socialize more easily and with much greater success.”

“You okay?” Priscilla asked Robbie.

“I don’t know. It’s a lot to think about,” he quietly replied. “Do you think it’s best for me?”

“Yes, I am certain of it,” Priscilla replied. “Look at me,” she told him. “Do you want to be happy?”

“Of course, Mother,” Robbie said.

“I have no doubt that this will do that for you. You are trapped in the wrong body. That can be corrected.”

Priscilla parked the Beamer in a lot filled with high end cars. She had taken Robbie back to school then hurried to meet her friends. There would be six of them. They were friends of a sort who belonged to the same organizations. They loved to think of themselves as progressive for that was who they were. The truly open-minded, tolerant ones helping to progress society away from the dinosaurs.

Their normal lunchtime restaurant was a very quaint, chic, French restaurant on the I-494 Strip in Bloomington. The Eiffel Brasserie. With today’s weather, a perfect seventy-two degree, calm, sunny spring day, they would dine outdoors in the patio area.

“Hello, everyone,” Priscilla announced when she arrived at their table. There was an empty chair waiting for her next to her best friend, Rebecca Forrest. Priscilla took it. She picked up the vodka martini Rebecca had waiting for her, held it up, said “Salute,” and downed a swallow.

“Well?” the woman across the table from her asked.

“Did you order?” Priscilla asked.

“Never mind that, what happened with the doctor?” the same woman insisted on knowing.

“No, we have not ordered. We were waiting for you,” Rebecca said.

Priscilla held up her martini again and announced. “He doesn’t know it yet, but Robert is about to become Roberta.”

The reaction around the table was very positive. From a simple “yes” to “marvelous,” and hearty “congratulations!”

“This is so exciting,” one of them said, “Our very own trans to nurture and enjoy.”

“Are you sure about this?” another one asked. Her name was Barbara Bivens and she was a successful partner in a twenty-lawyer firm in downtown Minneapolis.

Priscilla leaned forward onto the table to look Barbara in the eye, “Yes, I’ve known it for years. He even admitted to trying on my underwear a couple of times.”

“I’m not sure that means a helluva lot,” Barbara replied.

Ignoring Barbara Bivens, Priscilla said, “We’ll be starting hormone therapy in a week or two. You know, I’ve always wanted a daughter.”

The server arrived with another round of drinks. After passing the drinks out, he started taking orders. While he did this, distracting the other women, Rebecca took this opportunity to whisper to Priscilla.

“Do you have to go back to the office or should I reserve a room?”

“I was hoping you would ask. Yes, a room for two would be lovely,” Priscilla replied with a seductive smile.

“Naughty girl,” Rebecca whispered. Then, using her phone, she made the reservation. She also ordered champagne and strawberries for two.

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