One of my favourite festivals as yet began on the 24 th August 2011. Now, if we’re being picky, this whole thing began with an idea. I was sitting on the train with a group of my friends on our way to Reading and realised that I was the only single one in my group. I began to think about that one awful time I had sex, was it all really like that? I guessed it wasn’t when looking at how loved up my friends were, but at the same time I wasn’t particularly sure I cared all that much. Mainly because I’d learnt a lot about my body, what I liked, what I didn’t. And my god, did I have a fucking brilliant time learning. The hours of the train journey rolled on with the sun beating down onto my freckled shoulders, the chit chat of my friends filling my ears and the smell of fresh cut grass blowing in through the windows. But one thing remained constant, the thought of having sex. Surely I was just unlucky with my first time. I began playing out multiple different situations in my head;. Can she be real if she is always wearing clothes from my deepest fantasies? I walked down the aisle toward the mirror reflection of this perfect woman. She was, predictably, gone by the time I got there. I turned and searched and finally saw her in the rounded dish of the security mirror, hung in the corner of the ceiling. She was next to the door of the woman’s restroom, looking straight at me in the bright, mirrored glass. Then, she winked and turned so her ass was facing me and bent down to adjust her shoe. The tops of her thigh high stockings (of course she’s wearing thigh highs, I love thigh highs) were revealed beneath the edge of her dress, as was the barest hint of her ass cheeks, tiny panties pulled taut over them. It was as if she were performing just for me. I walked toward the bathrooms. She was gone. A woman stepped out of the ladies room, and through the opening of the closing door I caught the barest glimpse of her through the bathroom mirror, looking straight at me.
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