Tuesday, January 29, 2019

Jonah/Krystle: You've got a boyfriend when...

... your 2-year-old daughter knows maybe a dozen people's names and "Calvin" is one of them.

This whole dating thing has been surprisingly easy so far, to the point where I sometimes find myself waiting for the other shoe to drop.  There's a part of me that wonders if Calvin has been to the Trading Post and knows I have, because he accepts me being weird so easily and doesn't push where it would freak me out, but what are the odds on that?

Like, back in October, he practically had a twinkle in his eye talking about second-date plans, and I'm like, dude, you don't know me and aren't that clever.  But I kind of enjoy that, waiting to see what he thinks I'd like.  A few days later, he texts asking if I'm free mid-week; I say yes, he says to bring workout clothes.  Interesting.

We meet at a subway station in Cambridge, and he leads me a couple blocks down the street to a rock-climbing gym.  "That's...  A choice.  You saying I'm fat or something?"

"My sister said you'd say that, and also said not to say I wanted to see you in spandex."

"You should listen to her more."

"She says that a lot.  But, honest, I just picked up on you liking sports but not really being into running.  You ever do this before?"

"Just, like, ropes in gym class."

"Trust me, you'll love it."

I don't, at first, as I go into the locker room and change.  I don't think about my butt much, especially after a couple of years - obnoxious guys tend to and grab it at work and on the subway, sure, but they to do that to everyone, and I've got more tempting targets up top - but put me in a pair of yoga pants in a room with other people, and, yeah, there's no denying that I've got a genuine black girl bottom.  It's nothing to be ashamed of, but I went to high-school with a bunch of white guys and serve a lot more in Ashlyn's, and they can get weird, like it's either gross or something exotic.  It's just my butt.

Still, getting into that and a sports bra, I couldn't help but think that this was a lot more skin than I was counting on for a second date.   I try to tell myself I'd be cool with it if I were still the guy, and you might as well rip the Band-Aid off rather than get ghosted because he finally sees your shape after a couple months, but I'm new at this and kind of nervous as I leave the locker room.

He smiles when he sees me without being creepy, though, and we go to one of the beginner walls, a trainer showing me how to work with the harnesses and all, which would probably be nothing if I'd just decided to do this on my own, but is also way more "guys I don't know touching me" than I expected on a date.

On the other hand, climbing is awesome.

I liked sports in school, but I just never got the hang of running since becoming Krystle, especially since getting pregnant.  I'll do it if Little Moira is about to get into something, but when you're as busy as I am and maybe don't have the right bra for it, it's something to be avoided.  It's probably worse if you became this top-heavy all at once, but who knows.  Yoga isn't a bad way to stay in shape in that case - it's actually really good for learning balance and stuff if the Inn changes you that much - but it's really boring.  "Hold that pose" is harder than it looks, but it's not like you're competing with the girl next to you or feeling like you're accomplishing anything.  Considering that I didn't really care if guys thought I was attractive and everything else kept me busy, I was ready to fall out of the habit.

This, though, was just fun - a lot of the stretching and feeling the burn as you balanced your weight and stretched like yoga, but you're getting closer to a goal, you can trash-talk or give your partner encouragement.  It's fun and it doesn't hurt in the wrong way, and I enjoyed it so much we wound up staying until closing.

After that, we started doing more conventional dates.  Movies, sports (I'm still not sold on hockey), skating (I am way better at that then he thought a working-class black girl would be).  I'm not sure when kissing became a thing that we just did rather than something I have into when circumstances had our lips close, or when it felt like it might hurt his feelings not to, but it did.  I admit, I nearly jumped out of my skin the first time there was tongue and the first time he touched my breasts while watching a movie, but I told myself I'd done that, and was more appreciative the next time.

Meeting each other's people was a big deal, too.  Momma Kamen has seen a lot of the original Krystle's questionable taste in men, and I had no idea if Calvin was going to fit into some pattern that had nothing to do with me from her point of view.  Plus, if my daughter didn't like him, it was game over, which admittedly wasn't really that scary - aside from the part of my brain still rebelling against dating a guy, there's one that feels like every evening I go out and leave Moira with her grandmother, on top of the ones where I'm working, is me being a bad mother.  She says I'm not nearly at the point where we have to worry about it.

I don't really think she trusts him, and I don't necessarily blame her for that; the least-involved of Karla's baby-daddies is the white guy with some money.  She grilled him pretty good, but he got out of it alive.  It was a little embarrassing, both because he's a good guy and because she doesn't really know who she's doing it for.  But I try to imagine my own parents trying to suss out his intentions and I just can't.

Little Moira likes him, though; he's a good tickler and she likes it when he lifts her up to the ceiling so she can put star stickers up.  He is also very easy to persuade that it's never too cold for ice cream, and what more does a two-year-old need?

I didn't meet many of his friends until New Year's Eve; it was our first party, I guess, and by then Momma Kamen had at least gotten to the point of accepting that Calvin was going to be a party of my life for a while, because she raised an eyebrow at me in my jeans, sweater, and Nikes.  "That's how you ring in the New Year now?"

I was trying to figure out how to say "uh, yeah" without sounding disrespectful, but then wondered about the other girls at the party - would they be dressing down?  I quickly texted Calvin, and he said not to worry about what anyone else was wearing.  I may not have been born a girl, but Moira the Elder had grumbled about something like this a few weeks earlier - "don't worry about the other girls" means "at least some of the other girls will be making an effort".

So I went to my closet, pushed my church dresses aside, and looked square at the ones I'd worn on two of the most miserable days of my life:  The day I let someone with my face have their way with me on the left, the day Joseph finished Lamont's jail term and I tried to give him a treat only to fight and find out I was pregnant on the right.  The second one looked less trashy, so I went with that and the heels and push-up bra that went with it.  Plus some black pantyhose, because it gets cold.

Then some makeup, because I look good in the mirror and it wouldn't seem right to not go that extra little way.  I don't dress up much and I've gotten used to myself naked, so it takes me a little by surprise every time I get reminded that people used to stick money in the original Krystle's panties for being hot.  I kind of feel ashamed most of the time, both because I know that me being like this is unnatural and because I took that hotness from its owner, but this time, I'm also thinking that Calvin is in for a treat.

Momma Kamen must see that I'm thinking that, too, because she says "there's my sexy little girl" and that she hasn't seen me wanting to make this effort in a while.  I blush, realizing that I do want to look nice for my boyfriend.

He appreciates it, and it doesn't suck that his friends all seem impressed with the "cute, responsible single mom" he's been telling them about.   I smile and laugh, say that when you've got a toddler, you save the time to get fancy for special occasions, and then kind of sick around Calvin for most of the night, trying not to feel too jealous of everyone talking about their recent college or had school experiences.  Could have been me, but I've got an awesome little girl, so that's not a bad trade.

I'm not really that good in heels, especially when there's a lot of dancing, so I wound up leaning on Calvin some, especially with the beer and champagne and all in my system.  There were a few times I could feel how much he was enjoying my touch, but he didn't press it when the night came to its close.

That was kind of neat, all told, although my legs felt it afterward!  Very glad that Little Moira's second birthday party could be an informal affair, and not the last bit alarmed that Calvin is trying to get in good with my daughter by spoiling her at all.


Friday, January 25, 2019

Jenn/Zack: Reaching a conclusion

So, I ended up meeting with Alexa. It was nice. We had a lot in common, even though we're not supposed to. On the one hand back when I was female I'd probably have a lot of preconceptions based on her appearance that would cause us not to get along - that she was shallow, mean... dumb? Which sucks because I try to be about uplifting women. And maybe my male mindset really wants to see the best in someone who looks like she does because on some level - deep down, where I would never do anything about it - I think she's attractive.

All we did was have coffee and chat. I said I wasn't sure if I was right for her job. She pressed on about it, saying she loved my portfolio. I couldn't tell her it wasn't my portfolio. I said maybe I had some colleagues I could send her to. That was about it.

I haven't told David yet because I know he doesn't want me to do anything like that, and I know he'll react very badly when I tell him.

David came home that night, late and tired and complaining about everything as always. There's an added dimension now where he gets home and starts to undress, expecting sex. Now that we're sexually active he expects me to just be ready willing and able 24/7, at his beck and call every night, because that's what guys want, so that's what he expects from me. And it's not necessarily wrong - I do have desires and using his (Lena's) body is certainly one way to keep my attention focussed on him - and not like I don't enjoy it but... I've started feeling very bad afterwards.

I lie there and think, is this it? What do I have to look forward to? Did we ever have real conversations? Because we haven't lately. Did we enjoy each other's company? Because I don't think I do now. Was it really just about sex, and I pushed hard to keep the intimacy in our relationship because I knew we were doomed without it? Did we stay together because I felt obligated after we changed? If we were us, would I have walked away already?

I would have wanted to, I just know it. And it's scary to think I wouldn't have gone through with it because I was getting to an age where you just want to settle down with whoever you're with already. I already had m doubts before we got into this mess, but there was no way I was going to abandon him while we looked like this. But it was hardly any kind of fix for our problems. Resuming sexual activity really just emphasizes how little of a relationship there ever was.

And now - now that it's hard and inconvenient, I might need to do it (end the relationship) more than ever. It's more important now that I've done something he told me not to by meeting with Alexa, and that whenever I tell him I know it's going to touch off a huge fight, I know it's either now, or wait until we get our bodies back, and by then I will probably talk myself out of it.

I need to break up with him. I care a lot about his feelings and what happens, but I realize now that's different from love. I have my doubts because it seems wrong to break up while we're in the middle of this whole thing and I feel like I'd be leaving him high and dry, but I should follow my heart on this one.

Woo. I'm shaking, having written all of that. It's a good thing he vowed never to read this. I needed to put it out there, somewhere I hope he won't see.


Wednesday, January 16, 2019

Jenn/Zack: Holiday in the Heat

It began with a DM (and I don't mean Daryl/Magda, haha...)

A few days after my last post, as David and I were preparing to take our Christmas Holiday to Lena's Beach House in Florida, I got messaged on Instagram by a stranger asking, "Are you Valerie's photographer friend?"

I raised an eyebrow. I haven't done too much photography lately, only to keep Zack's client base up. I was enjoying it, and with Zack's help on photoshop I was pretty decent at it, but I didn't have the energy to go out and find customers, or the financial need thanks to Lena's bank account. I was also pleasantly surprised to hear that Tyler/Valerie and I were "friends" but I really wasn't sure why she was shopping me around... but I was intrigued, so I answered, "Yes... who is this?"

"My name's Alexa, nice to meet you! (Val told me you might recognize the name hehe) I'm looking for a photog to partner with for my account."

Alexa -- as in Ryan's Alexa? As in the girl Tyler, like... cuckolded?? My better instinct was to stay the heck away, but my love for drama commanded me to pursue. It'd be like meeting a character from your favorite reality show. I told her I wasn't really available in December, but maybe... maybe we could meet up in the New Year. She said that would be fine.

After that, I started browsing her feed, and it made me almost wish I hadn't agreed to meet her, at least not without serious consideration. I started scrolling, and scrolling, and found myself mesmerized by this girl's... everything. Her face, her features, her body, her style. The part of me that's a girl was both jealous and impressed by her hair, her makeup, her clothes. But there's another part of me now... one that's more interested in the curve of her hips, that glint in her eyes in that close-up where she's looking over her shoulder... her coy smile, the seemingly perfect soft line of cleavage between her breasts. It was this simultaneous feeling of both wanting her life, and maybe... wanting her in my life.

I got this sinking feeling I was in trouble either way. I didn't know if I should be putting myself in a room with her. I mean, I know I'm strong, and committed, but why put myself in a situation where I'm going to be... like... lusting after a woman who isn't my boyfriend? (Boy, that's a hell of a sentence!) David is jealous enough, why give him a reason?

When David got home - seemingly tired and worn out from the office as always - I told him about it, I was very up front. Not about any attraction I may or may not have had to this girl, but about the job offer and how I had agreed to meet with her but was thinking of reconsidering. I showed him the Insta feed.

He raised an eyebrow. "Wow," he said flatly. "She's pretty hot, huh."

Like it was nothing. Like he couldn't recognize this, like, goddess on the screen. Maybe he's been desensitized by porn, or by being female.

Finally, after a bit more scrolling, he tosses the phone aside. "Yeah, you're not meeting this chick."

I raised an eyebrow - excuse me? Don't you trust me? Never mind the fact that she is also known to be in a serious relationship. We can handle ourselves. This could be a good project.

He says, what do you need a project for? Why can't you just do your own thing?

Suddenly, my resolve doubled. Why doesn't he just say it - he doesn't trust me with other women, or other men.

I said, who was he to tell me who I could or couldn't meet? And he said he was my boyfriend, that's who, and I said really because you haven't acted like it recently, and he says is that a crack about my manhood, and I say no it's a crack about your behavior - you don't act like we're in an kind of relationship.

He says, oh, me providing for you, giving you a place to live, buying all your meals, paying for everything, that's not enough? I say tell him it amounts to being a kept wo/man and it's boring and not emotionally fulfilling. He says if I'm bored I can leave anytime.

I almost did it. I was so angry - my summary really does not do justice to how I was feeling in that moment but I'm not interested in reliving it for the blog's sake, if that's okay.

For a variety of reasons, I didn't. Storming out isn't my style - I'm more a "stick to it and get it resolved" type, but that's very hard when emotions get inflamed. But for a few moments I was thinking, to hell with this, enjoy the rest of your life.

But we're stuck with each other. I can't leave him now, not like this, or else something really stupid might happen. have to watch over him. And yes, part of it is... I'm so embedded in his Lena-life I'm not sure I would be able to survive right now.

Not a great reason to stay in a relationship I guess but there you have it. I have faith that, when this is all sorted out, he'll be the person I love again. We got over the fight, although the core issue - my interest in meeting Alexa and pursuing a photography project - was unresolved. I had a sinking feeling I was going to let him have his way on that one, and I wasn't happy about it.

The next day we went to Florida. We had a few weeks to ourselves over the holidays. Our only obligation was Christmas Eve Dinner with Lena's niece and her fiance, which promised to be awkward, since what little family Lena has doesn't really know she's taken up with a 25-year-old. I asked if David wanted me to excuse myself for the night, and he said no - Lena's a grown woman, and nobody should judge her.

We had a good first few days frolicking in the sun. It was fun, but still very chaste. David wasn't comfortable showing too much skin, although I tried to convince him to get in the spirit of the vacation, while still dressing age-appropriately. We were walking along the beach and happened to pass a pair of women in bikinis. I didn't really look - seriously! But David let out a sight.

"What?" I asked, a note of irritation in my voice - I was prepared to be accused again, and rehash our fight.

Instead he surprised me, "Wish I looked like that."

I was puzzled a sec. "Like what. Her?"

I looked back at the woman - her bikini bottom riding up her well-toned butt. Then I looked at David in his modest, flowy sundress with the deep yet modest neckline.

"I mean, if I have to be a chick, why can't I... you know? With the perkiness and the curves and the... everything!"

In that moment, I saw how trapped he was. Men, and society in general, are conditioned not to see women above a certain age as having value... even ones who are wealthy as Lena Howard. Even if they have kept their looks as well as Lena Howard!

"You don't want her life," I said thoughtfully, "Yeah, she's hot, but she probably lives at the gym and counts every carb she breathes near. Doesn't drink, doesn't stay out late, constantly moisturizing. You should be happy."

"Well, wouldn't everything be easier for us if we looked like that?"

I raised an eyebrow. "How do you mean?"

He shrugged. "I'd feel sexier, you'd find me sexier..."

"I find you sexy," I said matter of factly.

He huffed, "How could you find me sexy?! I've seen you look at other women, and I don't look like them."

"I... don't know! I don't know how it works. But it's the same as being attracted to men, I think - you just... feel the spark."

"Oh, and you feel the spark?"

"I do! If you'll let me," I smiled.

He rolled his eyes. "You think all this is sexy?" he held out his arm and indicated some loose flab.

"I don't care about that. Everyone's got flaws, and you inherited an overall great body. Lena Howard is a beautiful woman, and you have a beautiful soul."

He fell silent as he considered what I'd said.

I asked, "Do you find me sexy?"

With extreme hesitation, he said "Yyyyyyyyyess....."

"So we don't have a problem."

"If you really found me sexy, you'd want to have sex more."

I rolled my eyes. "You're thinking like a man, honey. I respect your space too much to push you into it."

"So, you really don't mind that we've only had sex once in these bodies?"

"I didn't say I didn't mind. I said I respect you." I wrapped my arm around him and kissed the top of his head.

Next was the niece's visit. I'm sure Julie means well but she wasn't even prepared to give me a chance. She had her eye on me from the start, looking for reasons to criticize me as a partner for Lena. I was on my very best behavior, making great conversation, but she was uninterested.

Before the meal was even done, Julie laid into the both of us, me for supposedly using her wealthy aunt for her money, and "Lena" for not putting her money to better use. I was too annoyed to speak, but David got up in her face, saying it was none of her business what two adults did with their time or money, or bodies for that matter. Julie left in a huff.

The evening proceeded tensely, but I began to feel very warmly toward David again after that. There was my man, defending my honor. But he was also the woman who kept me at arms length. Or so I thought.

After dinner, we were watching a movie in the screening room. We're cuddled up nicely, it's a bit like old times. David has been using some of Lena's body washes and other products and the smell is really driving me crazy. I'm fidgeting trying to ignore what's going on in my pants. He's very still.

"You know..." he finally says, pausing the movie, "I feel like we're under the microscope. People are starting to talk, in Lena's circles. It's like, gossip."

"Really," I sighed.

"Yeah. It's not just Julie. It's people on the board who've seen me Facetiming you. It's people in Lena's clubs. I guess the secret's out."

"Uh huh..."

"I mean, if we're already convicted... we might as well do the crime, right?"

"...Excuse me?"

"Wait here."

He dashed off, as nimbly as a nearly 50-year-old woman could. With purpose, moving like I haven't seen him do since being Lena.

"David?" I called out, when he'd been gone for a few minutes.

"Hold on..." he called back.

I got up to search, but he must have heard me lumbering because he called out "Don't move!"

Finally, he called out "Okay, come to the bedroom!"

I made my way slowly over. This had to be a trick, right? Two days ago we were back to barely-holding-hands. And now?

I went to the bedroom. No David. The light in the ensuite clicked on.

He appeared, bathed in soft light from behind. He was dressed in a sexy black bra and lace panties. I've never seen him voluntarily wear anything like that.

"I bet you've been waiting," he said, putting on an eerie impression of a sultry, seductive voice.

"I..., have..."

"I've been thinking about this a lot," he said. "You like this, don't you? You think I'm sexy?"

"Um... yes," my voice cracked nervously.

"This will make you happy? This is all you want, isn't it?"

"Um... only if you do."

He took my hands and placed one of them on his breast and one of them on his ass.

"We've wasted so much time, Jenn. Make me want it. Make me like it. F*** me hard."

"David I..."

"Now, Jenn!" he hissed, planting a deep kiss on my lips.

"Are you drunk?"

"Haven't had a drop," he said breathlessly.

That was true as far as I knew - which is unusual.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because our vacation's almost over and it will be back to the real world soon. And you deserve it."

"Okay," I said - still a little skeptical but starting to get "in the mood."

And then we did it. I climbed on top of him and he played his part to a "T", moaning and screaming, perhaps a little too vocally and graphically for my liking, but in the heat of the moment it really egged me on.

I mean, I could have done without him squealing "Oh my God I'm f**ing a guy!" But at lease he seemed to be enjoying it.

He must have liked it more this time, because it became a pattern. We found our rhythm and made love every night for the rest of vacation, and well into our return in January. He looks so good beneath me... and on top of me... and one time in front of me.

I haven't ended up meeting with Alexa yet, although it 's in the back of my mind. Things are just so good now that I don't want to rock the boat.

Which... is kind of stupid, when I say it like that.

Oh, man. I'm still in trouble.


Tuesday, January 15, 2019

Daryl/Magda: Not for Tourists

I was a bit surprised when J.T. suggested we do Times Square on New Year's Eve; I'd kind of expected it to be the sort of thing a longtime New Yorker like him dismisses as being for tourists and newbies, but apparently not.  Rather, it's in the category of things that are too good to be surrendered to the tourists, although folks aren't necessarily combative about it. 

It is, in a lot of ways, one of the most true representations of the life I've fallen into as J.T.'s girlfriend.  There's something kind of fantastic everywhere, especially with regard to music, cameras you learn to ignore, noise, tight quarters, and your own little bubble inside them.  There was some of that in Chicago, but not to the extent there is here.

And in Chicago, he was Elaine and more or less anonymous beyond being generally sexy.

He doesn't exactly attract paparazzi right now, but it was the sort of night where we bumped into strangers, at least to me.  He knows a fair chunk of the people in the entertainment press around here, and a few wanted a quote about what he had planned for the New Year, which was a good chance to plug his play.  He hand-sells it a bit too, when someone recognizes him and asks what he's doing now.  It's not exactly top-tier show business, but it's kind of neat.

The chilly, damp weather kind of had me dressed up in weird layers, though - little black dress for the after party, but also thigh-high boots and black pantyhose because it'll be cold, and then a coat to cover everything up.  By the time the ball drops, I'm really questioning all of this - not only is this my first time being on my feet in heels for such a long stretch, but I felt pretty stupid wearing an underwire all night when the top of my dress was underneath my coat. 

Still, the heels make it easier to kiss to ring in the new year, and when we wind up in one of his co-stars' apartments, it makes for a bit of a ta-da! moment when the girls finally come out.  Not that anybody aside from the other women of a certain age and maybe some of the gay guys really act impressed.  I'm honestly not sure what that's about - maybe they find me kind of campy when I start talking hip-hop and video games or express a strong preference for Android over Apple - but it's kind amusing, especially when someone has talked to me under the assumption that I must own an airline rather than work for one to have a boyfriend so much younger than my apparent age.

That goes away once I'm a couple drinks in - I still notice people looking at me kind of funny, but I care a bit less - and it turned out our hosts had a karaoke machine.  Magda's voice isn't write the instrument I had as myself or Elaine, but I suspect that makes it more fun for everybody.

It was almost 5am by the time we got home and I could take off my shoes before ditching the dress and taking off that bra.  I gave my breasts a bit of a heft after that ("boy, you guys are demanding!"), then stopped and prodded a bit more before walking to the bed where J.T. was already half-asleep.  I climbed up and straddled him.  "Hey, squeeze my tits."

"If you insist."  He reached up and started fondling, until I grabbed one wrist and guided it.

"Not like that.  Like you're trying to find something.  You know how they're supposed to feel better than me."

He gave me a weird look, but gave my right breast a harder, less pleasant squeeze, then shook his head.  "Feels normal to me."  We joked a bit about my breasts feeling normal, which led to a little playing while I was already on top of him.

I had a hard time shaking the feeling, though, poking around every time I changed clothes, getting worried whether I thought I could feel anything or not.  I googled "breast self-examination", tried that, and then after a couple days I made an appointment for a mammogram, which was today.

The radiologist was friendly, actually trying to talk me out of it at first, saying that they actually don't recommend the procedure for women as young as me these days, at least not as a matter of course, and I smirked at how I don't hear that very often.  I still said I wanted to be sure, and she shrugged and led me into a room.

I guess I was lucky to have a woman examining me in teems of it being more comfortable, although maybe a male radiologist would have speed me enough not to go through with it.  Initially, it was just a surreal experience, as I took off my shirt and set my right breast on a shelf.  The doctor lowered another, and I squawked a bit as it started to compress the tissue.  She looked at me and asked if I was okay, because the closer they can get the plates together, the better the image will be.  I said I was just a bit surprised and tried to tough it out, but I wouldn't be surprised if the plates only got a half-inch closer together before I said that was okay.  She nodded, went behind a screen, and hit a button.

Then we repeated it three more times, getting both top-down and side-to-side images for each breast.  It hurt like hell, just another example about how guys can be real wimps about pain (I initially typed "pussies", but that hardly seems right).  I winced a bit putting my bra back on afterward.  It was going to hurt if they were hanging, but I guess I have a bit more to learn about wearing the right underwear for the occasion still.

The doctor was able to show me pictures fairly quickly, and assured me there was nothing out of the ordinary, although there was a fair rate of both false positives and negatives - was I sure I'd felt a lump?

I immediately felt embarrassed.  "I, uh, guess maybe not."

"You sure?  Tests are one thing, but a woman knows her body."

Not necessarily, I thought.  I felt a weird sort of shame with that, like I should know my body better, or should have grilled Magda and Lindsey on this, so that I wouldn't think a bruise from bumping into something while wearing too tight a bra or something like that might be cancer.  I felt like apologizing to this doctor for wasting her time.

J.T. tried to look unconcerned when I got home.  "How'd it go?"

"Healthy boobs.  Sore, but healthy.  Be glad you were to young for this when you weren't yourself."

"True that, though it's not like Elaine's cramps were any picnic."

"Word.  Don't miss that.  But, man, today was something.  It's one thing to laugh off people because they don't know the real you, but this was kind of real, y'know?"

"Yeah.  I'm glad you're up for it."  He kissed me on the forehead, gently.

"Thanks.  The guys who won't get here for a while don't know what they're in for, but I guess that's what happens when you actually become a woman, and not just a guy visiting that sort of life."


Tuesday, January 08, 2019

Tyler/Valerie: Bad timing

I didn't go out and make plans for New Year's Eve but being that I have found myself in the body of a 25-year-old something was bound to happen. A few days before the 31st Maddie and Charlie persuaded me not to get in the way of holding a party at our loft. Not that I could have stopped them but they wanted my blessing and,if possible my participation (read: cooking, house-mom duty.) I said sure, but I needed help with something.

I needed sex.

Okay maybe it's an exaggeration to say I needed it but it was definitely a strong urge. After my meetup with "Cyn" I counted backwards and realized how long it had been since my ill-conceived tumble with Ryan and decided it was time to get back out there... at least for a night.

I was actually a little confused by my sudden need. I've gone long stretches as a woman without sex before - my whole time as Lauren, months as Judith, nearly my whole first year as Valerie. Maybe my desire to abstractly get laid by a man, without having one in mind, was a sign that I'm truly female, and hetero to boot... or maybe it actually makes me a guy who possesses a vagina and is attracted to men. How should I know.

The pursuit of sex has of course changed since I was fully male. Now all I have to do is stand still and - sorry to sound conceited but it's true - someone will want to sleep with me. The problem is it's easy to turn down these offers because, well, men are men. It's easy to find flaws and assume you'll find a better one eventually. Hence you find yourself six months down the road growing cobwebs between your legs. (Kidding, I dust regularly.) Anyway, to that point, I haven't met a good man in a long time. Technically ever, when you consider Ryan was a cad, Rafe was anti-commitment, and Josh impregnated another woman.

And sure, maybe my standards are high, but I deserve to be wowed. I'm a catch. (I've decided that most men would never admit it, but they'd prefer a woman with a man's brain.)

So I must really have wanted it, to want it in spite of all the potential for disappointment, frustration, and the host of other reasons women can be deterred from casual sex. My sudden needs were really eroding my commitment to my standards. But it was only going to be one night.

My ultimatum to Maddie: find me a guy I might potentially want to sleep with or I'll invite Rafe.

She brought me a guy named Erik, a friend of her boyfriend's. His online presence showed he was a clean cut, harmless type. Didn't exactly light my fire, but no red flags. I agreed to meet him. If he could string a few sentences together he would have a very good night.

The party was... what it was. I looked good. I curled my hair into nice wide ringlets and wore a low-cut clingy dress that shows off my assets but still looks appropriate for a house party,(assisted by an insane date night bra I have never worn before that felt like scaffolding) and tights. I busied myself hostessing since, at my age, getting hammered with twentysomethings is something I have reservations about. I did drink a bit to make sure I had the necessary courage. Erik seemed unaware he was there to be my plaything and kept his distance at first, but there was little else for him to do since Maddie had brought all the same people they usually hang out with, and Charlie had brought all her gay friends, which I think a made a vanilla guy like Erik feel a little out of place.

Eventually, Maddie said to him, why don't you keep Val company in the kitchen? He made some feeble attempts to help with what I was doing but I indicated it wasn't necessary and worked to break the ice. He was a little shy, which was simultaneously cute and irritating. He said he liked to travel, and had been through Europe, which I know is a cliche but at least gave us something to discuss. I had another glass of wine and started closing the physical gap by touching his arm. He responded by going right for the kiss. Points for enthusiasm. I told him he could meet me in my room. It was only 10.

I went to the bathroom. I had started feeling strange an hour or so before but hadn't had a chance to investigate because I was busy and it didn't feel urgent. But once I got in there I pulled down my panties and found, yes, my period had showed up a few days early. That kind of explained the horniness, actually. One of these days I will get truly

I hissed a "Damnit!" and threw my underwear in a nearby hamper. I groaned in frustration. As a man I had had period sex within a committed relationship many times but you can't spring that on a guy you just met. Plus I now felt dreadfully unsexy.

I put in a tampon and went to my room, where he was sitting on my bed, as casually as a guy who thinks he might get laid.

"Hey," I somberly informed him, "So... this is awkward but I just got my period. We can, uh, still do some stuff, and I'll understand if sex is off the table."

He looked at me for a few moments, clearly weighing his options. I seemed to be the only single straight girl at the party, thus his only real opportunity to get laid - which I vividly recall 25-year-old guys being wired to pursue at any cost. Still, you can always count on the male discomfort with menstruation to ruin a party.

He shrugged, "Lets, uh, see where it goes." That was very polite.

We made out for a while. It was fun, but the creeping sense it was not going to culminate in anything spectacular for me kind of flattened the experience. I took my top off and let him plsy with my tits (god, they all love my tits. They can take em!) And presumptuously unzipped his jeans, I guess just to see how I might react.

Oh what the hell. It was almost midnight on New Years. I wrapped my hand around his johnson and began to play gently (what do you know, I know my way around one of those things.) I could hear music in the other room. I decided if he could go the length of a song without ejaculating or doing that awful thing where he pushes my head towards it, I would give him oral.

He made it.

I'd never done it before. On the one hand it seems like something you should keep for someone you really like, but on the other it was like something you can do when sex is off the table and you don't want to ruin the moment. An investment, kind of. At first I felt silly. Like I had lost my last shred of manhood and put myself in a position of pleasuring a guy without getting anything back. As if this was the moment there was truly no going back, like I haven't decided that dozens of times in the past year - I'm a woman, and sometimes women do this. the fact that I didn't hesitate probably shows you where I'm at.

But I had a lot of time to think while I was down there. Was it pleasurable for me at all? Was it anything close to what I'd hoped for? No to both. But undignified? Not that either. There was no shame to what I was doing, because we were both consenting adults and I wanted somebody to have a good time. But even after that, I still really needed sex.

"Hey," I said, "If I get you a condom, would you consider it?"

His grunting stopped and he paused to think. "Can we... do anal?"

"Uh... no." I sighed, and finished him roughly with my hand. Here's a kleenex, see ya. In hindsight - not that I would consider it, but I could have let him down gently.

I rejoined the party and kept my distance. He wasn't so bad, the whole experience just soured my night. Maddie was oblivious, but Charlie was amused. We ended up talking for a few hours as the party wound down.

She laughed when I told her he had balked at the offer of period sex.

"I've never had that problem," she said with a wink.

"Don't rub it in..." oh, poor choice of words. We laughed.

The new year began. The search continues. And my thumb hovers over Rafe's name in my contacts. He's not good for me in the long term, but he knows his way around...