People in Trouble by Sarah Schulman

loose skin away from her eyes and opened the window.   Her neck was getting veiny but it was either that or the beginnings of an extra thickness around the waist.   She stood back from the glass and viewed her entire self.   That body had become her pleasure dome, every act of it.   She was doing something powerful.   She was completing her sexuality.   Her love for men was still intact but then there was this other set of relations.
     
    Kate wandered around the studio touching her own objects.
     
    She tightened the glue, moved her charcoals over by the window.
     
    Kate gathered her sponges and dumped them into the sink.   She washed her hands then, still naked, and picked up the magazine Molly had given her.   She caught herself in the mirror again and then opened the magazine.   Molly had handed it to her one late night after a guided tour of all the lesbian bars below Fourteenth Street.
     
    "This is the Cubbyhole," Molly had said, starting with a loud, overpriced butcher-block place on Hudson Street.   "It should be called the Glove Compartment.   It mostly attracts graphic artists and luppies.
     
    That's lesbian yuppies in case you didn't know."
     
    There was a video box there, where for fifty cents patrons could watch the video of their choice.   She recognized some names, others weren't that familiar.   They watched Madonna singing "Material Girl."   Molly had called it a classic.
     
    "Oh, Molly."
     
    "What's the matter?   You know what's weird about this place?   It has too many fish tanks."
     
    "Look," Kate said, pointing to the front door.   "That woman, I know her.   That's Susan Hoffman.   Her husband is a sculptor.
     
    Susan!   Hey Susan!"
     
    "Kate, what are you doing here?"
     
    "Just stopped in for a drink."
     
    She could feel Molly standing next to her but Kate just didn't want to introduce them.   She felt pressured.
     
    "Me too."
     
    "Isn't this strange," Kate said.   "All these women dressed up like this.   I mean, it's nice."
     
    "Yeah," Susan said.   "Nice."
     
    Then Kate noticed that Susan was dressed up too.
     
    "How's Dan?"
     
    "Fine."
     
    "Pete's fine too."
     
    "That's good.   Oh, there's my friend.   See you later."
     
    "Will I see you and Dan at Jack's party on Saturday night?"
     
    "Yeah, we'll be there."
     
    "So will me and Pete."
     
    "See you then."
     
    "See you."
     
    Kate felt disoriented as she watched Susan negotiate her way across the bar.
     
    "Isn't that great?"   she said to Molly.
     
    "Isn't what great?"
     
    "That a straight woman like Susan can feel comfortable coming to a place like this."' "Why didn't you introduce me?   By the way, she's not straight."
     
    "Of course she is.   I know her husband."
     
    "She knows yours.   Kate, look at the way she moves through the crowd.
     
    See how she touches the women as she moves past them and smiles sweetly.   Watch.   I'll bet you anything that's her girlfriend."
     
    "Which one?"' "That femmy girl with the great earrings.   See, wait, yep, watch that smooch.   She came here to meet her lover."
     
    Kate stared at the door for a minute and then drank down her four-dollar beer.
     
    "But I know her husband."
     
    - - "You think you're the only closeted married woman in New York City?"
     
    - I "I am not closeted."
     
    "Okay.
     
    -"How weird about Susan," Kate said.   "It makes me feel like I don't really know her.   Like I don't have any idea of who she is."
     
    - I Molly didn't say a word.
     
    "This is Kelly's," Molly told her, bringing them to a remodeled overpriced bar across Seventh Avenue.   "It used to be exclusively for jocks.   But since the renovation it got taken over by collegiate dyklings.   Everyone here is femme."
     
    "How can you tell who's femme?"
     
    "That's the question of the year.   After a while you just know.
     
    Usually it's the one who puts her arms around the other woman's shoulders when they're dancing."
     
    "Which one of us is