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PINUP I’d help my best friend unfold the center girl, that cowboy hat in her hand, his stare demanding and blank. From her pages I learned how to pose down on my knees, take off my clothes piece by piece, purse my lips and pout, her red press-on nails suddenly sharp on my fingers. Even my skinny chest would wobble fake with breasts until I got comfortable on the page, male again, and watched his shaking hand undo each cold, steel button.  ...

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