Tuesday, June 27, 2017
For Teddy, though... I wanted to wow him. I didn't want to dress like a realtor going for after work drinks. I wanted to dress like a hot chick on the prowl, someone commanded his attention. The mild weather trend hasn't worked for my advantage but I still wore a nice light dress that shows off my figure, lots of leg and chest - I don't really have cleavage so wearing low cut means I can go pretty extreme. I wore my tallest pair of stilettoes, and even went to Shayla to do my hair and makeup. I can do it myself but not if I want to look all-caps HOT.
Underneath was my laciest, skimpiest thong and no bra. And the chill in the air meant the girls were perky.
It was worth it, though, at least at first, because I could tell he was impressed. I've never seen him at a loss for words but he stumbled to say, "You look -- really good!" I blushed, "Who, me?" I could tell he was trying to play it cool but I examined his trousers for signs of attraction.
I have to admit, there are parts of being a chick I really get off on. It's nice to have people treat you like you're this small, precious thing they need to protect and care for. I like having chairs pulled out for me and doors being opened for me and being looked at with that fawning gaze. I like how he takes any opportunity to touch my lower back to guide me, or take my lightly by the arm on the way into the restaurant.
I also relish being a chick who isn't a chick. All those things that I hated about my old girlfriends, the way they would nag me and get pissy if they thought I wasn't paying attention to whatever I was saying. Who really cares? We both know what we're really here for. Any guy who might end up dating me is hella lucky since it would basically just be like dating a bro with tits, and let's face it, what guy doesn't basically just want that?
I tried to avoid work conversation and asked him about his personal life. We got into the subject of how he was a workaholic in his 20's and 30's and now he was paying the price, because he never settled down. That was getting a bit serious, but I used to opportunity to reach out and touch his hand and say things would be okay, it wasn't too late.
He gave me a weak smile, cleared his throat, and asked about Stretch.
"Oh, uh, I guess that was an open secret, huh? What did he tell you?"
"Nothing," he said, "He was pretty secretive about it, but we could all tell something was going on."
"Yeah, uh," I felt my voice creak into an even higher register, shifting in my seat, "It didn't work out. I think he was into me, but the reality wasn't quite what he imagined. He thought I was some pretty, innocent little princess."
He smirked, "Oh, and you're... not that?"
"No," I smiled wickedly. "I'm a dirty girl."
Holy shit, I was getting myself hot.
He looked away. "Good to know," was all he could say. I was a little irritated. Why was he backing off. Didn't he want this? Am I somehow not good enough for him?
Finally I broke down - because after all, I would've loved a chick to be this straightforward with me - and said, "Hey, what's going on here, man? Are you into me or not? You can't tell me you're not feeling it a little."
He hemmed and hawed. "I... you see... it's complicated."
"What, because of Stretch?" I scoffed, "Aren't we past that? Aren't we all grown-ups? There was nothing there and if he's not over it, that's his problem."
"It's more than that," he said, hinting at, well, something big. "You... really don't know, do you?"
"Know what?" I was truly baffled. "Are you, like, gay or something?"
"No, no, I'm not..." he said. "God, I can't believe I'm about to say this but I can't let it go on."
"Say what? Dude, you're scaring me." I searched my mind. I wondered if it had to do with the Inn or someone knowing my secret or... someone having a secret of their own? But I was way off base.
"Joy," he said with a severe look on his face, "There's a bet."
I raised an eyebrow. "A bet?"
He sighed. "There's a bet around the office over who could hook up with you first."
I just stared. I'm not even sure I blinked. "Uh... what?"
"Sully and the Big Guy were talking one day, about how flirty you were with everyone and how it seemed likely that someone was going to, well..."
"Hit that?" I completed his thought for him.
"I guess so."
"And Stretch was part of the bet?" I felt my heart sink a bit.
"Yeah," Teddy nodded.
I took a pause before my next question. "And you?"
He bit his lip. "Only indirectly."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"Well, they figured that if I somehow 'won' that would be it for them, so they made me put some money in the pool."
"How much?" I said, too stunned to raise my voice beyond a whisper.
"$500 apiece," he shrugged. I had to restrain my reaction - disgusting, perhaps, but it's hard not to be flattered by being worth that much money.
Before I could say anything, Teddy piped up, "Joy, you've gotta know... I wasn't really in it. I had no plans to try to win, if anything it made me want to keep you at arm's length."
I sniffed, "Well, that didn't work."
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner," he sighed, "Things between you and Stretch seemed pretty legit and I didn't want to wreck that."
"Yeah, that would have killed it if it wasn't already dead," I sighed.
"If there's anything I can do to make things up to you, just let me know."
"Let's just forget about it," I sighed, "And try to enjoy our meal."
"Okay," he said.
"And hey, Teddy... don't tell anyone I know about the bet, okay? It sucks but I'd rather not deal with it."
"Whatever you like," he nodded.
I was obviously a bit distracted for the rest of the night. I'm seeing a few downsides to embracing the whole "sex object" thing. I'm more than just a pair of tits and ass - as fabulous as the assets I got from the original Joy are (well, she could use a boob job maybe but I'll leave that for the next Joy.) I'm good at my job, I'm a decent person, I'm good company. I'm a lot of things. And I happen to enjoy getting laid, same as I did as a man.
It makes me miss the thrill of the chase. Yes, sex is easier to come by and I can take my pick of partners, but man was it exciting to have to work for it. I miss the game.
Then after the weekend, I realized... I'm still playing the game. Just by different rules.
So I got my phone out and texted Teddy - we hadn't talked since Friday and I was feeling bad about that.
"Hey... thanks for telling me all that stuff on Friday. I really needed to hear it."
"No problem, I'm sorry again," he said back.
"So... want to win a bet? ;)"
To be continued...
Friday, June 23, 2017
- As a woman I have discovered the joys of being promiscuous.
- I went out on several dates with a guy from work, Stretch. He was shy and never made a move on me, and I never made a move on him, and eventually he found out I was seeing other guys and called it off, trying to make me feel bad for being promiscuous.
- I wouldn't say I had feelings for him, but I was having some fun.
- There's also this guy at work named Teddy. He's a bit older, but he's in good shape, smart, funny, confident - all things I don't really think of Stretch as being. Everything you say to him reminds him of some awesome story of travel or someone cool he's known.
- He's not obnoxious or crude. He pays me innocent compliments and then gives me a sly wink. He's kind of who I want to be.
- He's never made any serious moves on me.
- Sometimes when I'm talking to him I get a little bit tongue tied and speechless. That almost never happens to me, especially since being Joy and I've been able to wrap every man I've met around my finger.
I was in denial for a while. It's Joy's body. It's not really me. I'm not really a chick and even if I like having a sex as a woman, that doesn't mean I have to... like guys that way.
One weekend, neither of us had anything to do so he challenged me to a game of pickup basketball. I'm pretty competitive even if as Joy my jumpshot is even worse than it was as Simon. He gave me one of those winks when I asked him to go easy on me, and it was like... fuck, there's a pool in my panties. We're both out here in athletic gear - I'm in basically a sports bra and spandex shorts for crying out loud - sweaty and full of endorphins and only a half step away from nudity.
I'm screwed. I want to be a guy again, I can't let anything get in my way and having "feelings" for a member of my same sex is definitely not on the menu. But I've been going through a dry spell these past few weeks ever since I realized my dudes were all just lazy and using me. But I've still got time for a summer fling, right? Maybe if we bang a little, it'll get out of my system.
I asked him if he wanted to go for a drink tonight. He said yes.
Now... what to wear...
Friday, June 16, 2017
By now you've probably read that Elaine did not get to become herself again when her turn came up at the Inn; another fellow gets to have that experience, although for what it's worth, I don't think him becoming Elaine, specifically, was not part of his girlfriend's master plan. It could be, but Elaine is inclined to believe it's not, and I'm inclined to believe her.
The way she puts it, she, her sister, and her sister's boyfriend were on track to arrive at Old Orchard on Friday night. She falls asleep in the car - apparently that's a Mackenzie thing; the rolling wheels just sooth her somehow - and when she wakes up, the car is stopped in a rest area with her by herself. She gets out to look for her sister and maybe get herself a snack, and when she comes back the car is gone. She doesn't have her phone, the others don't notice she's gone until they reach the Inn, and then according to Elaine the boyfriend is the one that says she'll be okay and they can get her in the morning. Everyone changes that night, though.
Meanwhile, a Massachusetts State Police Officer finds her sitting on a park bench, guzzling coffee to keep awake through the night because she knows it's not safe for someone who looks like a ten-year-old to be on her own like this. She's taken to the station because she can't remember "mom's" or "dad's" phone number, says they were going to the Trading Post Inn, and the night clerk at the place down the street says, yes, the Mahoneys have checked in. By the time the local police get there, of course, there are no Mahoneys, just a young African-American couple whose story about being in a room with the Mahoneys' luggage makes no sense.
Around noon, I get a call, as Elaine is telling them that they came to Maine to visit me. Fortunately, more than a few people on the force like hot dogs and know me to say hello at least, and don't seem to seriously think I'm any sort of actual suspect. They just want to know something about the Mahoneys, and I tell them what I remembered from Elaine talking to them. I don't suggest that they may show up in a couple of weeks or so; a couple of other Inn guests saw the handbooks I left at the Inn after changing back and have me a call, saying that a wide investigation would just stir things up and make the issues with missing time and the like different for everyone, and since people tend to be changing back this early in the year, maybe we should let the Inn's curse smooth things out, like it seems to do.
Of course, I can't do that entirely; as I'm walking out of the station, Elaine hears somebody call me by name and bolts from the table where she's sitting, running up and leaping at me. It's such a genuine scared-kid thing that I'm not entirely sure how to respond to it, but she seems okay when I put my arms around her and pick her up, though maybe that's because it gives her a chance to talk to me without someone overhearing. "You've got to do something, Cary - they're going to put me into foster care and the real Mahoneys don't know what's waiting for them!"
I say I'll think of something, and then ask the officers if she can come home with me. They shake their heads, saying not while they didn't know what was up, but if I want to fill out some forms, they can start a background check, just in case. So I tell Elaine to be good, getting a sarcastic look, and start doing some paperwork.
I get Missy's text message, so at least I can tell her that her body is in good hands when she drags her temporary guardian to the truck on Tuesday, though I can't say much more than "Elaine's doing well" without the other little girl and her mother thinking I'm suspicious. By then, I've talked with Missy a bit and we think we've figured out what's happened, that this Bing-Bing girl must have left the Inn while Max was sleeping, came back in, scoped out where Elaine's suitcase would be and then rushed Max out during one of the moments when there weren't any police.
We got a little more time to talk this afternoon; she does not like what Missy and Max are saying about things being like this for a year, but she was at least able to give me an email address for the Mahoneys along with her own (though she says not to use it, because it's probably monitored). I haven't heard back from them yet so I don't entirely know what's going to happen, but so far, it seems like everyone is at least safe, and apparently my application to be "Mackenzie's" temporary guardian is hung up on jurisdictional issues as much as anything. So, hopefully, will be able to figure more out soon.
Tuesday, June 13, 2017
Monday, June 12, 2017
Thursday, June 08, 2017
It's a little lonely though. My hookups have become less frequent. Part of that is getting pickier, deciding what I like, saying "no" more when a loser approaches me at the bar. I had to stop seeing one guy because he really wanted to kiss a lot and I wasn't really into that. But I even found myself putting my best guys off when they texted, making excuses or just saying I wasn't in the mood. Eventually I got to the point where I had to wonder: did I really just turn down sex?
I guess there was a honeymoon period (so to speak) where all this sex was new and exciting and now none of these guys have really stepped up their game so it all feels repetitive and boring... I thought, it must be my body getting used to the feeling. How sad.
I was talking about this to Shayla about this, kind of rolling my eyes saying "How can people stand to be in relationships if the sex only takes this long to get bad?" and she basically spit out her drink in shock.
"I can't believe I'm hearing this from you!" she gasped, "You're like, Miss Relationship. I've never heard you act so obsessed with sex."
I sometimes forget that the person whose face I'm wearing did different things with it when she had it. "Well, uh, I've changed a bit. I'm trying to have more fun now."
I should note that I haven't hung out with Shayla much since the Holidays... I was "seeing" Stretch, I guess, so anytime I went out it was either with him, or by myself with the intention of getting picked up. And Shayla, I hate to admit it, is so much hotter than me that it's really hard to get a guy's attention when she's around. When I want to be invisible, I hang out with her.
"Of course you're sick of hook ups though," she laughed, "You want to be in a relationship. You want a guy to get to know your body, and care about your... you know, pleasure. If they don't have to do anything boyfriend-y, they're going to start taking you for granted."
That felt like a cold splash of water in the face. I was laughing to myself about how much fun it was to be "easy" and feel no shame about it I didn't realize that there's a downside to it anyway. I'd been trying to put my finger on why I'd been feeling lousy all month. I didn't realize that the problem might be with them, and not me. I just assumed that all these guys were doing their best to please me every time, but it dawned on me that they really weren't. They were only interested in being with me as long as it took them to ejaculate.
Still, I felt the need to debate the issue. "You can't tell me you'd rather have sex with the same guy for years than meet a new one every week," I huffed.
"Come on Joy, it's like you're forgetting everything you learned in college," Shayla scoffed.
I muttered, "It's been a while..." I guess that's when girls usually go through their trampy phase and come out looking for something more (ugh) "stable" or "deep."
She got this faraway look in her eyes, "I would love to be in a relationship right now... but the only guys I meet treat me like a piece of meat."
I'll admit that I still have a habit of staring at her tremendous breasts from time to time. It's weird knowing that, barring some crazy drunken lesbian experiment between us (fingers crossed, we've still got a few months) I'll never have a chance to get with her. But more than that, I miss having the biological urge to get with her. I just can't help staring because her body is like a work of art. I like the look of it, but I'm sad to say it doesn't turn me on exactly. (Okay, it does a little bit.)
But then I start to feel bad for thinking that way, because even though I still kinda like my newfound status of being objectified, she's had it her whole life and she's clearly a bit sick of it because it's getting in the way of what she wants.
Well, that's her problem if she can't appreciate a good thing. I'm only here for a little while longer so I intend to have my fun. I bet there's tons of chicks out there who would kill to look like Shayla. (And guys too, but they probably wouldn't realize how awesome it can be at first.)
I guess this is all a way of realizing I need to shake things up somehow, but it's not like I want something "relationshippy." In that way, my deal with Stretch was working for me because it was just casual enough to keep me interested, and then I didn't notice so much that my other hookups were bland. Some might say I was stringing him along, but it's still his fault for never making a move. And throwing a tantrum when he found out I was getting with other guys was also a big turnoff.
I don't know. It's a smarter play just to knock it off and stay on my own until it's time to get back to the Inn, but I look at myself in the mirror and think about how intoxicating it is to have a guy fawn over me, our hormones interplaying, hands on each other's bodies... and other parts... I can't quit that!
'Scuze me, I need to make a call...