Friday, May 19, 2017

Cary (and Elaine): Sometimes it's like I've learned nothing

So the last time I wrote something here, a few months back, it was all about Elaine teaching me how to be her so that I could get a job and keep her career going, which incidentally would keep a roof over our heads.  I seem to do all right, although the interviews are difficult.  I usually do jobs that most anybody can do, so the interview about kinda technical things would be tough even if I'm not doing it in a miniskirt and heels.  It takes a few tries before Elaine and I find a job that both will take us and looks likely to wrap up before the end of May.  It's a near thing, but today was the last day.

Elaine tells me that's good, which I'm thankful to hear, because I don't feel like I've learned anything specific on this job.  I started out not knowing much about computers, and I really don't know much about computers now.  I don't even know much about running a hotel, and yet I've somehow earned Elaine a bonus for spearheading a local group's development of a system to track everything about that.  It's bizarre.  I feel like I've gone into an office every day for months, running a lot of meetings, moving a bunch of sticky notes around a wall, but not actually doing anything.

Supposedly, according to Elaine, all the programmers would have just play video games all day long, never schedule a meeting with their "subject matter experts" or getting anything done.  I don't know that this is necessarily the case - they all seem to be good kids, more enthused about their work than I was when I was their age.  I guess maybe that's something I'm taking with me to my real life - whenever friends talk about the lazy younger generation, I can say that I don't really believe them.

I don't really know them, though.  A lot of Elaine's teaching me to live her life was so that I could go out with her friends.  I don't do it that much - like the ones at work, they're nice kids, but even with Elaine's drilling, I can be a few seconds behind in any conversation.  Dancing can be fun, but people get kind of grabby, and guys tend to take a step back when I start to talk about sports or anything.  Mostly, though, it's a matter of feeling uncomfortable leaving Elaine at home.  We spend more of our paycheck on home video equipment and the like so that she can watch movies while I'm at work or out, and most of the time I would rather stay home and watch something with her than go out with her friends.   We've got a few shows we're watching together, so sometimes she's kind of pleased that I'm letting her social life slide.

Not always, though.  The other day, I take a picture of myself with the team so that, when she's back in her own life, Elaine will recognize the people "she" worked with for these months, making sure to tag all the faces, and when I get home, she points her little fingers at the screen and asks why I've been holding out on her.  I kind of shrug.  I guess he's kind of handsome - tall, black, bright white teeth, only hair a close-cropped goatee, in good shape but not super-muscular - but not exactly distracting to me.  I tell her that I didn't think it was a big deal to mention it, because I think I handled telling him I don't date co-workers fairly well and I didn't want her to worry.

"HE ASKED ME OUT?"

Kind of, I say, but it would be unprofessional.  Besides, I wasn't feeling anything.  She says that's ridiculous, that everyone else with a functioning sex drive is starting to go along with what their bodies want, and he is exactly her type.  I say he's evidently not mine.  She looks at me curiously, and then asks if there are any guys there that do make me tingle.  I say no, but then I remember how I jumped a couple days before when another co-worker made it right to my desk without me noticing.  I point to him - white, a little closer to my real age, shaggy hair - and she just looks away, shaking her head, saying it's a good thing that I'm so professional.

I have to admit, I was kind of tempted to ask one of them out on the last day, maybe have one actual date before going back to the Inn next week.  I chickened out, though, so I guess I didn't learn anything about what the next lady I ask out will be feeling, either.

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Monday, May 08, 2017

Tyler/Judith: Hold your breath

It's Sunday night. I'm in a situation that still feels unreal to me: desperately trying to pick an outfit for dinner. It used to be so easy, and Kit knows it. He's on the bed, dressed in his shirt and tie, his black socks wafting in the air while I'm charging back and forth. Is it too cold out for this? Am I gonna be comfortable?

"The purple dress," he says. "I always love you in that."

"Yeah, and I know why," I snicker. "Look at this neckline. That's a good reason to put it back."

"Aw, why?"

"Because Kip is gonna spend the whole night ogling my chest, no matter what. I don't to give him more ammo."

Kip is Adrian's brother who most definitely has a crush on Judith. It's incredibly sad and upsetting and a big contributor to why we haven't exactly kept things cozy with that side of the family. But tonight it's a big family dinner and we've got to go.

"I'll sit between you two," he huffs, half-jokingly I think. "He'll behave. And I'll get the show."

"You get the show no matter what," I snap back.

He has a retort of his own, "Not always. You make me work for it."

"Damn right I do," I say. I slip it on over my head. Predictably, my boobs come falling out, my bra is visible. You get so used to seeing women in movies and TV and magazines who have their outfits perfectly chosen for them, you don't think about how sometimes nothing just goes together. You need a goddamned masters degree in fashion sometimes to put together an outfit - a really nice one - that "goes."

I slip it off. I prefer a more modest light blue top. It's silky, so I like the fabric, it covers everything and goes with everything. Kit makes a face. "What?" I ask.

"I've never liked that one," he sighs, "Simply not flattering, I don't know what Judith was thinking when she bought it."

I huff dejectedly, "She didn't. I bought this one."

She reaches into the closet and pulls out a shear dark green top. I roll my eyes. We're back to square one, because everyone can see my bra in it.

"That's what the blazer is for," he says with a smile. I nod, okay, that will work. He adds, "There's a really nice knee-length knee-length skirt in there to finish it off."

I don't particularly feel like wearing the skirt. I haven't shaved my legs. I don't have anything against the garment in general. I'm over any kind of male-born aversion to girly clothes. Bring it all on, but make it comfortable. Instead, I opt for slacks.

Kitty gives me that face and says I look like I'm going to a job interview. I roll my eyes and insist I look fine, but a look in the mirror makes me doubt that.

I can't believe I'm about to utter these words but I do: "I feel fat."

I feel up my belly. I twist and look at the way my hips balloon out and project into a big round butt. I'm used to looking this way, and honestly it's not so bad, but I don't feel "fat" until my clothes don't fit right. Make no mistake, if I had been incarnated as a huge lumberjack of a woman I would have made due without shame, I think. But there's something about this situation that makes you feel the pounds and inches you gain after you get here, and Judith's body is pretty prone to fluctuations. Basically, I want my clothes to fit. It's a real kick in the tits when you have that notification that you're getting bigger, you're having an effect on this body. It feels unforgiving. I suck in as best I can. This isn't going to work.

"I'm sure you have something more forgiving," Kitty says. He's trying to be reassuring, but he's not.

"No, never mind, I'll wear the damn spanx," I grumble, dropping trow so that I can put on something restrictive that will keep me from breathing properly all night but at least allow me to fit in these damn pants. Then I have to find shoes to wear with it. Two-inch black pumps. Why does everything have to suck?

We go out, and it's a nice enough time. Nobody notices I'm being quiet. I order the salmon because it seems light. The Kid wants to order off the adult menu but I remind her that she wasn't able to finish the steak she ordered last time we tried that. Kitty says there's no shame in the doggie bag, and I say fine, knock yourself out.

Kip is ogling me no matter what I wear. I wonder if Judith ever felt flattered and encouraged it.

We get home. I'm definitely too tired to have sex, but we do kiss and cuddle a bit. I think about what an ordeal just going out for a night is sometimes. I toss and turn, and then I'm up half the night re-living my salmon. Not on purpose - I'm not trying to slim down, I just can't keep it down. Kitty sleeps through the whole thing. Between retches I pull my hair back into a ponytail so it doesn't get chunks in it.

On monday morning a thought occurs to me and I can't get it out of my head. I'm gaining weight, I'm getting sick, I'm a bit moodier maybe. I'm trying to remember when was my last period. I'm not on the pill and they tend to be erratic. I swear it's been less than a month. Once I went over 5 weeks between them, but that was before Kit and I were even doing it so I didn't think twice.

I happen to check the blog and see Jonah's post about his/her little baby girl.

I find myself at the pharmacy in the "Family planning" aisle. The pregnancy test seems like an unnecessary expense, right? My period will come any day now. So much grief and embarrassment in bringing it to the cashier, it's not worth it. I'm worrying about nothing.

I buy it and take it home. I couldn't even look the cashier in the eye as I did so, I can't even pretend I'm hoping for a positive to decrease the awkwardness. I drink two glasses of water, more than necessary. I'm shaking. This can't be happening. I'm only months away from getting out of here. I can't screw this up, for me and Judith and everybody. I can't get stuck here like Jonah. Even if what Kitty and I have is for real, we are not meant to stay in these bodies.

I pee on the stick. The two minutes it takes to reveal the result are the worst I have felt in years. Worse than waiting to find out how your body is transforming. Worse than whatever it was that drove me to walk out on Meg. Every problem I've ever had seems so small in this moment.

It's negative.

I breathe a sigh of relief. I feel like I've just been found not guilty of a federal crime. I look again. Still negative. Breathe. My heart and stomach settle back out of my throat.

I put the test back in the box, and put the box in a bag and I walk to a nearby park and throw it out. I think about what, if anything, to tell Kitty. I do plan on saying something about it, but I had to get rid of the evidence just so that he wouldn't find it first and ask about it. I need to control this.

I'm still very shaken. I walk home, sit down, breathe for twenty minutes, then look at the calendar and count the days until we go back... again.

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Monday, May 01, 2017

Tyler/Judith: Spring lull

I woke up this morning and turned over the "Mom's Planner" calendar over to May. My heart skipped a little - we're that much closer to D-Day, or should that be M-Day, for Maine? Or T-Day for Transformation? Well, we haven't named it. Besides, it could be any of a several-day stretch we expect to be in Old Orchard Beach.

I haven't put much thought to what comes next. How could I? I don't know who or where I'll be, or who I'll be with. Everything will be up in the air. And I'm so stuck in the morass of being Mom and Wifey that I can't really afford the luxury of snapping back to "Tyler-Wanderlust" mode even in my dreams.

Besides, things are... and I hate to say it because things are just aching to be jinxed, but... things are good. Kit and I are vibing like we never have before, even when we were Alan and Greta. We've gotten into a good routine. There's me at home, cooking and cleaning, ready to kiss him hello when he returns from work. I listen to his - admittedly dull - office anecdotes. I ask the Kid about homework and friends. We watch TV, we fall asleep in each other's arms. If you didn't know better you'd think we had been doing this for years.

Which makes me feel like T-Day, whatever we wanna call it, is something to be a bit worried about it, rather than celebrated. Anything could happen and for once that feels like a bad thing, if it puts an end to me and Kitty before we're, I dunno, ready to end it. I try not to dwell on it too much.

There's, haha, sandwiches to make.

I still do some work for the Event Agency, but I haven't accepted any projects on my own since the Anniversary I did months ago. Judith would probably kill me if she knew what a fib it is that I've kept her career going strong. I mean, she wouldn't kill me, because she wants her body back, but maybe if she waits until after I've been to Maine... better watch my back.

It pains me to admit, Kit was a little right about de-emphasizing work. We've had to tighten our belts a little bit but it's not like we depended on my income too strongly, and I'm at peace with things as they are now. It's strange to think, this is maybe the first time I've ever not wanted to leave a situation but had to.

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Thursday, April 27, 2017

Simon/Joy: Well, that's over.

I guess it wasn't meant to be between me and Stretch.

He comes up to me the other day and says "We need to talk." I say okay, talk, and he shows me his phone, which shows my Facebook profile, and there's a post on my wall from one of my hookups saying sorry he wasn't going to make our date tonight and he would have to rain check me.

"What's this about?"

I told him it looked like I was free tonight. He didn't laugh.

"Are you seeing other guys?"

"Um, yeah," I said, "I told you I wasn't ready to be exclusive."

"I didn't think that meant you were actually out there seeing other guys."

I sneered, "God, read between the lines here, Stretch. I told you lots of times I was busy, what did you think?"

"I thought that meant work," he huffed.

"Sometimes it did..." I said, "Sometimes it started out that way and developed."

"How many guys are you sleeping with?"

I didn't like his tone but I decided to answer. "Right now?" I rolled my eyes up to do some mental math. "Two." I didn't tell him I had recently been narrowing it down from... well, it depends on how you count, but maybe five.

"And neither of them is me."

"I guess not," I shrugged, "You know, the timing was never right. I kept thinking you were gonna make a move but you seemed fine with what we were doing."

"This is bullshit," he huffed. "You shouldn't do that."

"If it helps, I didn't really go out with any of them," I said, "You're practically the only guy I go out to dinner with."

"But you won't fuck me."

"Woah, I didn't say I wouldn't fuck you, I was waiting to fuck you."

"Well, why should you fuck me, when you've got all these other guys going?"

"That's a good question," I hissed back. "Look, if you don't want to paly anymore, it's fine by me."

"I'm just confused," he said, now shouting loud enough for the office to hear, "What are we doing?"

Me: "Having a good time, I thought."

Him: "I didn't think I was gonna have to share you. I didn't think you were like that."

That pissed me off, I think I've got everyone fooled into thinking I'm real nice and virginal because I've got a petite body and pretty blonde hair and a nice smile. I don't look "nasty" but looks can be deceiving can't they?
Yadda yadda, we went back and forth a while but I could see where it was going. He wanted to be all judgmental with me because he was hurt, but that's his problem.

I told him I was gonna make the call for him, we were done. He was nice and all, but I can get better than him.

Don't look at me like I'm the bad guy. I am operating the same way I always did with chicks, I told them the deal upfront, including telling them I was gonna keep my other action discreet, so if there was a problem with that, there's the door. A lot of them took it.


The only difference I can see is that as a chick, I'm not being rejected... like, ever. If I want to have sex with someone I get to have sex with them when I want to. And they'll keep wanting to come back to me, because I've turned out to be a pretty good lay, so.. the guys add up, until I get bored of them.


And on the flip side, if I want to make them wait and impress me, something I never would have bothered doing as a guy (Like, "Are you hot? OK I'm impressed") I get to, like I did with Stretch. I get to make my own rules, because I'm a hot girl, so suck it.


I'm not here to fall in love so I don't owe anybody anything. I'm here for fun and to kill time until I get to be Simon again. Don't hate the player, hate the game. End of story.


-S/J

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Tuesday, April 25, 2017

Jonah/Krystle: Moira Ashlyn Kamen

January 22, 2017, 20.5 inches, 8 pounds.  Beautiful.  That last part is still true even if the middle seems like it didn't last very long at all.

Contractions started during church, and while I've tried to move on from thinking that God is trying to make some sort of object lesson out of me, there are times when you can't help but think that.  The Reverend wasn't doing a sermon on premarital sex or deadbeat dads or anything today, but, still, when you cry out because suddenly your body has decided to loudly announce a new way to hurt in the middle of a crowd of people who don't think they would ever let things come to this, the embarrassment is almost just as painful.

Krystle, bless her, recognized what was going on practically before I did, and quickly got me put to the car and was almost on the way to the hospital before my patents caught up.  That was actually kind of surprising; she had been reluctant to be much of a part of getting ready, not really wanting "Jonah" to be seem as too feminine or tagged as the father.  It's a weird thing that none of us really figured out how to approach, because Krystle isn't, the whole "cousin" story is meant to keep me from having this in my background later, and the actual guy who knocked me up has basically said "try and prove it".  But, when the moment came, she was there, even for the actual birth.  I guess she decided she wanted to see it.

I kind of wish I could have skipped out on experiencing it.  As bizarre as the previous months of being pregnant were, being hyper-aware of this other person inside you, that eventually started moving on her own while your body does all these weird hormone things that make no sense, suddenly having her want OUT, but still needing you to push...?  It's all that plus really terrifying, like something out of a horror movie.  And that's regular-girl stuff - halfway to the hospital, I looked at Krystle and asked what would happen if I didn't know how.  Like, I still have a guy's brain, and what if it didn't come pre-wired to push a baby out?  She looked kind of horrified for a second, then said that couldn't be the case, because I was able to do what was necessary to get knocked up in the first place, but I said I mostly just lied there.  We were about two minutes from calling Penny to find out if she'd had to have a c-section when another contraction came and bearing down seemed like the thing to do.

I can't really describe the feeling of it - I don't know if regular women find the whole thing unreal their first (or ONLY) time, but it was like I wasn't in the real world for a while.  The bits of me that I just thought of as hurting when I had my menstrual cramps suddenly needed to be used, Krystle and my parents were frantic, and then I pushed someone out and there was just a while bunch of stuff I wasn't ready for:  The placenta, the sight of the umbilical cord coming out of me along with her, little bits of unexpected hair...  They don't show that stuff when someone has a baby on TV, and I guess I missed health class being a grown woman for the past couple years!

And then she started to cry and I snapped out of it, really looking at her when the doctor put her in my arms, and kind of feeling amazed that she was alive and beautiful, and that I hasn't screwed her up.

* * *

Names were kind of a hot potato for a while leading up to the big day.  It's kind of due to us not really knowing what was going to happen after the baby was born, just having strong opinions on what wasn't going to.  When I asked Krystle about names, she said she didn't want to have anything to do with that, although Mom said she should, because she was going to be the baby's mother.  On the other hand, she didn't want a name from her family tree, because that would taint it or something.  I bought a couple of baby-name books - one kind of generic, one more African-American - but nothing spoke to me.

So when the nurses asked, it was another quick decision, but I decided to go with the names of the two ladies who had looked out for me whether they knew the whole truth or not.  "Moira Ashlyn" seems like an absolutely ridiculous name for a girl who seems to have gotten all the genes for dark skin that Krystle and I have between us, but in that moment, I wanted to give her a name that really represented that sort of love, and none of the ones that did mean that seemed to mean it as much as that one.

* * *

It meant Moira and Ashlyn had to visit and see their namesake, of course.  Ashlyn had to come up for the baptism, since I'd asked her to be the Godmother, but it was not exactly a hardship from the way they cooed and tickled and asked if they could hold her.  We'd never really had a shower, so Ashlyn took the opportunity to bring Changeling onesies, teddy bears, and a big box of diapers from the other waitresses.

She admittedly wasn't sure about the whole Godmother thing.  I don't know what she believed before visiting the Inn, but she's not really a churchgoer these days - as much as the experience shows you that there's some sort of greater force out there, Ashlyn had met a lot of Inn visitors, including a creepy stalker, so it's hard for her to see it as part of God's Plan.  She's not quite a non-believer, I don't think, but she's not devoted.  Still, I can't think of anyone is trust to raise this little girl more if anything happened to me, Krystle, my folks, her folks...  Putting it that way seemed to take a load off her mind.

They were the easy visitors.  Momma Kamen and Karla also came up for the baptism, and it was uncomfortable.  Krystle's mom really was not keen on being presented as some sort of distant relative so that "Jonah" could have his reputation intact, and that disdain clearly hurt Krystle.  She also REALLY doesn't get along with Karla, no matter who she looks like.  The good news is that babies can magically smooth over a lot.  Moira's cousins were really excited to meet her, so Karla put a happier face on for them, and "Momma" may have been upset at my family, but she seemed to feel good when she got to hold Moira, and privately suggested that maybe being in this new place was good for me, keeping me from falling back into old habits.  

The funny thing is, she kind of doesn't know how right she is, in that Krystle is doing real well being me.

* * *

I've never been as popular with the girls in my class as I was a a pregnant woman and how as a new mother.

Part of "me" being popular is Krystle, of course.  She hooked up with a couple of the girls that went to the Inn, they spread the word that "Jonah" was a terrific lover who really knew how to please a girl, and things happened from there.  I didn't exactly like the reputation as a player he was building for me, but it's difficult to argue too much when you've got a baby on the way.

Still, all the girls who went to the Inn with me have gotten even nicer since Moira was born.  All the complicated stuff seems to have been replaced with "OMG BABY!!!!"  Maybe it wouldn't quite be the same with the other girls at school - if you were taking a trip with your church youth group, your probably a bit more traditional - but they seem to enjoy hanging around and helping out when they can.

One, in particular, has gotten real close.  She doesn't really like to talk about it, but I think she had a near miss on having to make the sort of choice I did.  At any rate, she's around a lot, speaks up to defend me when someone suggests that they think there must have been another way, that sort of thing.

It really feels like there could be something there when things get back to normal, and that's a wonderful feeling, since most of the time, even with Mom and Dad and Krystle and everyone helping, Little Moira takes up enough of my life that "back to normal" seems impossible to conceive.

-Jonah/Krystle

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Wednesday, April 19, 2017

Tyler/Judith: Low Pressure

It's Sunday morning. The sun is beaming through the master bedroom. I'm sitting on the cushiony bench by the windowsill - the nook, I guess - reading a book that Meaghan recommended. I'm wearing only a bathrobe and a pair of beige underwear - "granny panties" with a lace trim.

I hear a voice clearing its throat from across the room. "Ahem," I look over at Kit. He's sitting up in bed, gesturing to look down at my chest. I've allowed my robe to fall open and have been idly running my fingers down the length of my hair and along the soft inner curve of my breast. This is a little habit I've picked up when I'm deep in thought - Kit finds it a bit embarrassing but is more amused by it than anything. I can't help that, after 30-odd years as mostly a man, I still carry a fixation on breasts, even if I face them in the mirror every day of my life. Believe me, they're not always easy to ignore.

"Steamy book?" he says with a raised eyebrow.

"Not particularly," I sigh, "It's about World War One."

He walks over and begins to rub my shoulders. "I think we won that one."

"Shh," I say, "No spoilers."

He places his lips to the top of my head and pecks a light kiss. It feels nice.

"You thinking about seeing a hairdresser soon?" he asks, indicating my frayed-looking locks.

At times, this kind of suggestion - that he knows best - rankles me. But it's not like the thought hadn't occurred. "I don't feel like it." I hate sitting still for the female equivalent of a barber, never like the result, and always feel overcharged.

"Your call," he shrugs, rubbing my narrow shoulders.

It's been a bit since the flap over the Kid's suspension. He apologized and admitted I wasn't to blame. I vented about the Chernobeks' parenting style and he talked me out of going over there with a carton of eggs for their windows (I had a pretty good arm in my youth.)

"What should we do today?" he asks.

"Hmm, I don't know," I tease, "Clean the bathroom? I've noticed some yellow specks around the rim of the toilet..."

"Pfft, and you had perfect aim when you were a guy? And besides, what about the clumps of hair in the bathtub sink?"

"Hey, I bought that little strainer thing," I defend myself, "Take it up with the manufacturer."

"How about we go for a walk this afternoon?" he asks. "Find a nice café or something."

There's not much else to do around town. But this is the first good weather we've had on a weekend all year. Being able to get out of the house at will seems like a godsend, really takes the pressure off our situation.

We often take the time on weekend mornings to have sex. Dylan is sleeping over with Meadow today so it's a perfect opportunity to let loose. I don't want to let him assume it's a sure-thing, though. I don't want to toy with him, but it's good to play a little hard-to-get. I like it being up to me. I like him having to win me over, again and again.

I give him the nod of approval. He scoops me up in his arms - I can hear him struggle a bit, because my bod is a little bottom-heavy these days and Adrian isn't exactly in top form. But he really likes being able to do this trick and I don't mind letting him.

He lays me down on the bed and slips my panties off. I don't have many specific instructions because I don't really care. I let my mind wander, leave my body while he uses it as his playground. I've found that if I think too much while we're in the moment I'll get self-conscious about what's being done to me and I can't enjoy it at all. I still don't know that I do, but I like everything around it. It feels weirdly normal and good and if letting "that" get done to me helps keep things stable, I'm cool with it. I swear.

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Tuesday, April 11, 2017

Simon/Joy: Work with me here

So, here's my argument in favor of casual sex: the more you get to know someone, a lot of the time, the less you want to bone them.


At least when I was a guy, I could ignore a bland personality by staring at her tits and just counting the minutes until they were in my hands. If they wanted a drink or five first, I could wait.


But guys? Let me tell you... guys suck. They are boring as hell company. None of them matches my wits or intelligence, so I feel like I'm wasting my time. Everything they want to tell me, that I'm supposed to find so impressive, they want to think it's the first time I've heard it. Like I'm some precious empty-headed bimbo just waiting to be filled up. Mostly they want to talk about their boring job or their boring car or the lame places they've traveled or their season as a defensive lineman in the NFL. Who cares, he didn't even make the playoffs, and I'm Browns all the way anyway.


Because of this sudden repulsion to the male psyche, I've narrowed my roster down a lot, and this has given me a chance to explore things with Stretch. Stretch is cute, as I've admitted, and he can hold a conversation, but he does get a little mawkish when the topic strays from work. Every so often he'll openly flirt with me and it'll warm me up inside a bit, but then he goes back into his shell. Problem is, I feel like by even going out with him this much, it's opened up a Pandora's box... people at work are gonna talk, and if it ends badly that could screw up the dynamic.


I took him dancing on Friday, but he mainly hung out by the bar while I hit the dancefloor. His loss - I hope he wasn't too jealous watching me practice my twerking. That's right, I can shake it pretty hard when I want to - I just wish I had a little more to shake. Instead of joining, he leaves early and just gives me a quick goodbye.


Honestly, if that doesn't light a fire under him I don't know what will. I think it just made him feel bad, and if that's the case, I'm probably not the gal for him.


Look, I could be the guy here. I could take him by the hand and lead him through life and be the first to say "I want you, let's do this." But I don't want him until he shows he wants me. He has to cut the meek shit and man up if he wants this.


Maybe I'm a tease, maybe I'm leading him on, but I don't care. I'm leading the life I want and if he's a good boy I'll let him be a part of it for the remainder of my time here. He's lucky. There's other guys I could be pursuing. I mean, besides the other ones I actually am with.


Why am I doing this you ask? It feels good. To have power over men - as many or as few men as I choose, with as little effort as I want to expend. To pursue pleasure with no guilt. What a gift. I'm not worried about compromising my manhood at all. Someday I'll be me again, and this will all be some hot, sexy, mildly perverse dream I can look back on fondly on my lonely nights.


But for now... Joy doesn't chase.

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