The Priestess

 22/25

The longer Lincoln stood next to the bar waiting for the rest of the drama club to return, the more he was sure he had been had somehow. The ruffled dress he wore was not particularly short yet he felt completely exposed and while the pantyhose had protected his legs from the cold winter air, they had done nothing to shield him from embarrassment. The rest of his outfit consisted of a sheer top with velvet cuffs to match the dress, a leather purse and painful leather heels. All of it plus the wig had been courtesy of the college drama club's costume closet and had been his fellow clubmates' vision of the Priestess – the card he had drawn from the tarot deck earlier in the night.

It was apparently a club tradition. At the end of the first college semester, all club members, no exceptions, would draw from a tarot deck blindly and whatever card they selected would serve as the basis of their outfit for the final big night out of the semester. Lincoln had of course drawn the Priestess, not only that but he had drawn it upside-down which, club rules stated, meant he had to remain in costume not just for the club party, but the wider college party that occurred immediately afterwards.

He had begged for a redo but Jean-Paul had pulled the deck away and clapped his hands gleefully while Harriet had beamed at him and started dabbing his face with an enormous makeup brush before the rest of the club had even finished having their turns. His peers had taken great joy raiding the costume closet for the perfect outfit and Lincoln had turned white upon seeing some of their offerings. They had pulled and primped and powdered him until he was barely recognisable in the ensemble he now found himself dressed in as he stood at a local bar.

Of course, none of the others had drawn their cards upside-down, and so when the club party ended at nine everyone else ran back to their dorms to shed their significantly less humiliating costumes. The Lovers, the Fool, the Hermit – all mild when compared to the embarrassment of attending the biggest night of the college semester in full drag. And now he was alone...

Lincoln thought he saw a familiar face slide through the revolving doors of the bar and relief flooded through him. Finally, he would no longer have to stand alone looking like a girl trying to get picked up. His heart went cold as he realised the person he recognised was actually one of his class professors – a department head no less. Lincoln didn't want to admit to such an esteemed figure who held at least a piece of his future in his hands that he was here in full makeup and a dress on some silly drama club lark.

“Well, hello there sweetheart,” the greying lecturer shot him a sly wink. “Buy you a drink?” Lincoln tried for a sweet smile and nodded demurely, his purse clutched defensively before him as he wished for the Earth to swallow him up.