Simon/Joy: Holiday Cards

Thanksgiving has barely passed and December has barely started, but we're already starting to get holiday cards from everybody Treena or Joy has ever met, from the old lady on the ground floor to Joy's ex-boyfriend in Scotland.  It's kind of interesting how the different groups affect me when looking at them, and it's not necessarily what you'd expect.  I've long accepted that Joy's family are my family for as long as I'm her, for example.  We've got the same genes, and that counts for something.  I can look in the mirror, see bits of Joy's mother there, and keeping in touch with her seems natural.  Similarly, I may not have as much history with Joy's friends as they think I do, but I've talked with them, hung out with them, talked them into doing things.  It makes sense to hear from them.

The others, though, are really weird.  You know, the ones who met Joy in some other way and keep sending her cards even though I can't find their names anywhere in the social media accounts I've inherited and their addresses apparently didn't migrate between phones at some point.  I can call Joy's family and friends my family and friends, but even though they're kind of inconsequential, relationship-wise, it feels kind of weird to call people acquaintances if I have not actually made their acquaintance.  I mean, sure, whatever, you keep it up, guy who went to high school with Joy and thinks dropping five bucks on a card every year might get her to hook up with you at the reunion, your letter is kind of more interesting than the baby pictures, but it's not going to get you into these panties.

I am trying to write one of those letters of my own, because it does seem like the kind of thing that would be in-character for Joy, and a couple of them did mention not hearing from her for the past couple of years.  It's a little easier this year than it would have been before, when I would have had to make up stuff to fill in a seven-or-eight-month gap, but it's still a little harder to fill in than I thought.  I can't include the Inn-related stuff, obviously, and a lot of the exciting stuff this year has involved sex (or not having sex), and I'm not really up to writing two letters, with one of them censored, and trying to figure out who might not think the fun one was completely inappropriate.

The office card was a lot more straightforward - make sure I dress nice the day the photographer comes in, and it's not like I ever show up in sweats.  They didn't put me front-and-center, but I got a prominent place, as a pretty blonde with bare legs sure breaks up a wall of thirty-something year-old guys in suits.  It would be great if it helped me out professionally - I'll certainly be the one they remember if a former client gets the cards and says "huh, maybe I should sell the beach house, and I should go with the realty office who helped me buy it even if the actual person I worked with isn't there any more" - but I know it's mostly a way to humanize the crew that wants a big commission.  It's certainly not going to get my numbers up by the end of the quarter.

Which is too bad, because I could probably use the money to cover some expenses and sock away.  When I went out to the parking garage Monday night, I got a big shock when I saw the car's rear end had been absolutely crushed, enough to bend the axle, and while I figure it has to be the guy with the Hummer, the security camera was apparently busted, which means the insurance company is almost certainly going to be dicks about covering it.  On top of that, the body shop told me I wouldn't be able to get a loaner that night, which meant I was looking at taking the bus or an Uber home.

Fortunately, Teddy had been on a call when I was getting ready to leave, so he made it to the garage just as the tow truck was pulling out.  His eyebrows went up at the damage, but he asked if he could give me a ride.  I said he certainly could with only about half the innuendo I could have, which amused him more than anything.  I turned around to stow my bag in the back seat, and that's when I caught a glimpse of the pay stubs he had dropped there.

Now, I know enough not to read too much into any one paycheck when you're in sales.  Not only does seniority count for something, but what you do week-to-week is a big deal when you're being paid a commission; some weeks I'll do better than him, others he out-earns me.  But the one on top of that pile was the holiday bonus, and it was almost three times mine, and I know he hasn't been in the office that much longer than I have or outperformed me that significantly.

I mentioned it to Treena in passing as part of bitching about what happened to the car, and she immediately seized on it as bullshit.  I was pretty determined to act like it was none of my business, but the next morning made it tough, as the body shop tried to pad the estimate and stuck me in a sub-compact with their name on the side in big letters for a loaner car, which just makes for a great impression with clients.  Waiting for the shop to open and dealing with all that got me to work a little late, and when Stretch made a pretty harmless comment about it I snapped at him, saying that when folks try to charge you twice as much despite your only pulling in half the money, you've got to spend time haggling.

The laughter that came in response was a bit more nervous than usually happens when I make a joke, but I didn't think too much of it, diving into work, making calls and emails, setting up some showings.  I didn't think much of it until I was about to step out for lunch and the boss called me into his office.  I stepped in, took a seat, and asked what was up.

"Joy, are you happy here?"

"Uh....  Yeah, I'm pretty happy here.  The work's good, the pay is good, and so are the co-workers."  I tried to pay it casual, but conversations that start like this are usually dangerous.

"Good, good...  From some of your comments this morning, I was worried that you might be dissatisfied and, perhaps, trying to lay the groundwork to get more than your due."

"Oh, no, just, you know, dealing with car stuff this morning.  Can't live without your car in California, right?"

"You certainly can't.  It's not that we were particularly worried, but you know how it goes - a woman takes a job in a place that has a lot of money going through it, they're often looking to hook onto a man, whether it be a customer or a co-worker, but we'd never had that feeling about you."

"No sir - trust me, if there was anyone looking to make money off getting laid here, it wouldn't be me!"

He pulled forward a bit in his chair, so he was looking at me at just a little bit more of a downward angle, trying to adopt just a teeny bit more of a dominant posture.  "Are you trying to imply something?  Something you can use later?"

I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry.  "What?  No!  I mean, I might have heard something that sounded bad, but I might have misinterpreted it.  I mean, guys in any kind of sales job have to be competitive, right?  And sometimes, out of context, that can sound a lot worse than it actually is."

He smiled, pleased at this response.  "I'm glad you understand.  A lot of women don't."

A lot of days, if have made the funny-to-me comment that I wasn't most women, but instead I just thanked him and went to get a salad from the place down the street.  I was kind of feeling like "most women" at that moment, or at least the group that have been making such a big stink about guys being guys lately.  And I hated that; I wasn't going to be one of them.

That attitude carried me through the rest of the afternoon and into the evening, getting home with just enough time to do little more than pass Treena in the doorway, telling her to keep her feminist agenda to herself.  She was kind of in a joking mood, saying I really should have noticed it was my feminist agenda too by now.  She stopped for a second when I said it almost got me fired, but I said not to worry, I'd handled it.  She said that was good, but if I wanted to talk, she wouldn't be out very late.

Oh, and there was another card on the kitchen table, and this one might mean something.

I looked.  Yeah, it did - it was from "Simon Woodford".  Me.  Or at least, Brian Meeks with my body and life.  There were two letters in the card, one the printed-out version everyone got, talking about work and home repair projects that I had always put off that Brian took on, and finding out he had testicular cancer, which he joked about as much as he could.  One was handwritten and obviously just for me, apologizing if I found the other letter inappropriate, but it seemed like humor was the best way to cope on a day-to-day basis.  He got into a lot more detail about the surgery and radiation, and how the doctors were really encouraged.  He said he was mostly worried about my dad, who seemed to take the diagnosis kind of hard and sometimes needed a reminder to take care of himself too.

And then there was the picture, me but not really me - he'd apparently decided to shave his head when some of his hair started falling out, on top of a few more lines on his face but also a weird smile that I knew was phony from all the apologies and guilt that came out of his mouth when talking to me.

Really, a bummer of a Christmas card, but kind of a perfect cap on 24 hours of not feeling like I'm in control of my life the way I usually do.

-Simon/Joy

Simon/Joy: The Bet.

I was really looking forward to my date with Teddy. Neither of us were calling it a "date" but I was definitely treating it as such. I haven't even really been out on many "dates" since I've been here. A few pre-arranged outings, but even when I was seeing Stretch we often just went for drinks after work so I didn't change my outfit or do my make-up differently or anything. The only time I put a lot of work in is if the girls and I were going to a club or I was going solo hoping to hook up. If I had a booty call, I usually would just wear something comfortable and seductive, knowing I wasn't going to be wearing it for long.


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...

Simon/Joy: Making my move.

A lot has been going on recently so let me recap the last few months of my life quickly:

• 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.

Now, here's some stuff I didn't tell you.

• 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.

It started innocently, even while I was still "seeing" Stretch. I would find myself craning my neck if I thought Teddy was walking by my desk. I would feel more enthusiastic about teaming with him on a sale than with the other guys. I felt the urge to sit near him at meetings, found my eyes glancing his way.


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.


It's on.


Now... what to wear...

Simon/Joy: Can't stop won't stop

Life since Stretch and I cut things off has been... okay. I mean, looking at the big picture, things oughtta be grand. The weather's gorgeous, I'm making tons of cash. I'm still a chick for now, but I've definitely learned to live with it a long time ago and never let that keep me from thriving.


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...

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

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.

Simon/Joy: March Madness!

Things are going well for me. I'm making tons of money, keeping busy, and having tons of sex. Sometimes I feel guilty about it, like I shouldn't like having a guy stick his prick in me, but I'm stuck in Joy's body wired to like having my pussy poked so why fight it? You gotta live your life, it's no different from playing with myself except at its best it's like 1000x hotter (at its worst it's a pretty big disappointment but I just don't call those guys again.)

So yeah, I get laid like two or three times a week, whenever I'm feeling it. It's nice just to be able to text a guy and be like "Hey come over" without having to specify what it's for, but he knows. It's all very casual, I make that clear up front.

Except things have gotten complicated lately.

I went out on a date with Stretch. I was putting vibes out at work just to see if I could add one of those guys to my regular rotation, and Stretch finally picked up on it. I know he's been nursing a crush on me since at least Christmas. Except I have a rule never to ask a guy out, that's beneath me. If they want me they have to come get me.

It took him a while to pick up on that, though. He gets really flustered when I'm around, which is... cute. And I remember when I first had that thought - "That guy's cute." That's different from knowing a man is attractive and feeling he'd be a suitable sex partner. That's when I knew things were getting a bit weird.

I got scared and almost called it off but that's not my style. I went along with pleasuring myself when I wanted to try that, and I went along with exploring with Joey and all those other guys, and that worked out great. So I figured why pussy out now? I look like a chick, obviously I have some of the tastes of a chick. If I'm gonna like guys, so be it. Life is too short to deny yourself anything.

So we went out and it was... nice. Different from having a quick drink as a preliminary for sex, with a muscle-bound dude who is going to be fun in bed. We had to make conversation, share stories, be a bit more open... and to be honest that is not my strong suit. I think I excel at hookups because it's a transaction, like sales. This is true when I'm a guy, too - I've dated and hooked up a lot but I'm not really a "meet the parents" kind of guy (I've already met his parents! How messed up!) And as a chick I've gravitated more toward guys who remind me of me, alphas, go-getters and takers, and Stretch is... even though we work in the same biz, he's more soft and sensitive (kind of like a woman??) We're very different, and it was awkward, but he appeals to me, sooo...

We've been out a few times this month, when schedules permit, but I haven't fucked him yet. It feels weird to broach the subject, like I shouldn't be giving it away with him even though I have no problem doing that with other guys. I'm still not sure if I like the idea of committing to just one guy and if I do if it should be him, but I'm, I dunno, open minded I guess about it. I still have all summer since I booked my return trip to the Inn for August.

It's weird. Suddenly I feel weird talking about it. This is different.

PS!! He does not know about my other hook-ups except I have told him we are not exclusive. The rest is my business and my business only. He seems okay with it, albeit reluctantly.

Simon/Joy: Stretch, Sully, the Big Guy and Teddy

I had sex again last night, big deal. Only this time I went over to the guy's place, because I didn't want Treena to judge (until she reads this.) It was kinda messy and smelled like a locker room... and is it weird that that turned me on a little? It was far from home, and I thought I could maybe spend the night, but I felt too awkward so I Uber'd home at 3 AM. Exhausting.

I could probably just keep hooking up with random dudes as long as I like - there's no shortage of bro's at the bar lining up to buy me a drink - but it's starting to wear me down. It's getting repetitive I'm not patient enough to set up a really good screening process so I usually just pick the first dude who gets to me, which is probably a recipe for disaster. I've thought about online dating, but I also don't like all the buildup and I'm seriously not looking to date, and all the guys who only want something casual on there are kinda... gross, tbh. But I have one last option. Work.

Some people are not into the idea of mixing business with pleasure, but those people are missing out on lots of fun. Seriously, you have a group of people you have to see day-in-day-out for years and you never even consider bumping uglies with any of them? Waste of time. Some say it causes workplace hostility, but only if you do it wrong. Plus there's something sexy about sneaking around, having a secret (lol, tell me about it!) and generally being naughty.

In fact, many years ago I had it hot and heavy with this girl from accounting. She dressed real conservative but she was a total freak. Loved anal and wanted me to tie her up once. Not that I'm up for any of that, but, you never know. She dumped me cold and I never fond out why.

So you might recall I spent the holidays with my co-worker Stretch. I honestly thought he was gonna make a move on me but if he wanted to he didn't try very hard and I wasn't up for it yet. Now that I am - and honestly I think I've been strutting around the office like a cat in heat for weeks trying to get some attention - and nothing. He seems shy, intimidated by me. Yawn.

I'd consider it if he would just man-up and make a move. He's tall and thin and clean-cut... kind of a Ryan Gosling look to him. I could go for that.

But he's not my only option around the workplace. In fact, there's three other guys I have a good relationship with: we flirt, we tease, we have long chats about the weekend. There's the Big Guy, who is so-called because he weighs about 300-lbs, and I know what you're thinking... sounds gross. But I think he's actually more athletic than any of the other guys because he hits the gym constantly. Good square jaw, looks like he used to play football in college. He just sweats a lot. He's vulgar and brash, and probably loves the fact that I can execute a perfect "That's what she said" joke.

Only, I think I saw him wearing a wedding band when we first met months ago... and now it's mysteriously disappeared. Not that I've ever asked...

Then there's Sully, kind of a cross between the two. A bit older than Stretch, and chubby but not "fat." We've teamed up on a few sales, and he is a smooth talker. He keeps telling me that one night, when he's free, we're gonna hit the club together. I have no idea what he needs to be "free" from... he does, however, have a face that looks like a potato and I don't think I could live with myself if anyone knew I had "hit that."

Lastly, there's Teddy. Honestly, besides the fact that Teddy is over 40 and looks it, he'd be the guy. Like, he's kind of who I see myself being in 10 years, and who doesn't want to screw themselves? Aloof, soft-spoken, but smart as hell and surprisingly funny. The man has been my idol, a bit, since I got here, and I'd be lying if I said he didn't occasionally pop into my head when I was "with myself." (Or with another guy.) But that aloofness means he can play hard to get... and I don't know if I have the patience to unwrap all those layers. I'm only here for a few more months so if I want something consistent, I need to act now.

In case you were wondering, Joey is dating some Filipino chick. Good for him, Asians are hot, but I'm not gonna deny that I'm annoyed that now that I'm ready he's off the menu.

Simon/Joy: Holiday Hangover

Treena was trying to convince me to go see Joy's parents for Christmas but I couldn't bring myself to do it. What do I want to hang around them for? They don't know their daughter is dead, so I'm not really "comforting" them. I don't plan on being here much longer so it feels pointless to get to know them. It would do nothing except make me miserable, cost me money and probably catch a cold from going from the balmy San Diego climate to the frosty Iowa one (the locals have all been complaining that this is cold for here... we should send them to Cleveland!) I mean seriously, if they want to see their daughter they should move out here. Sorry if that's rude. Maybe the next Joy will be kinder to them.

I was feeling lonely though. I mean, it's so strange, living with this secret - the "Joy is dead" one, not the "I'm secretly Simon" one. That, I'm used to. But being in a dead chick's body? That's starting to get freaky. Every minute of the day I'm trying to live my life and I just randomly remember: oh, a dead girl bought these clothes. A dead girl picked this body wash (I used up the bottle that was left for me but picked the same one again because I liked smelling that way and thought she'd appreciate it.) Everyone calls me by a dead girl's name. It sends a shiver up my spine. But I keep saying all this stuff, writing it out instead of holding it in, cause that way it feels more normal and I can maybe get over it. People die. It sucks but we're still here, right?

Gotta admit, it makes the next six months interesting? Like... I don't have to keep this life "safe" for someone else who is expecting it back later. The next person is probably gonna just clear the slate again anyway, so I can do what I want. Keep doing the job I want, save all the money I want... pick a different car... the big one is, move out, if I want to. I have to admit I've really come to like Treena and everything, but I'm a pretty independent guy and having a roommate is not something I feel like doing at this stage of my life. I've had some good success so I can afford a place of my own if I want to. But on the other hand having her around kinda keeps me in line. I figure if I was on my own, with nobody watching and judging me, I could really go crazy, and maybe not in a good way.

I didn't want to do nothing on Chirstmas, though, so I took my co-worker up on his offer to spend the holidays with his family. His name is Miguel, but we call him Stretch around the office because he's tall and gangly. All the guys have nicknames... mine is "Blondie." :(

His family lives out in Chula Vista, in a Mexican-American community. They're pretty assimilated, so there wasn't any really strange traditions... just good food. Mexican home cooking, mmm. And I also had to bring some "Church clothes" for Midnight Mass. That was a little awkward, because I guess I've got a bit of a strange relationship with God... like, I'm not sure I even believe in him, let alone know what to do with the fact that he gave me the body of a dead person. Still, I can pretend to be pious and virginal and all that stuff.

It was really nice to be around people. They made me feel very welcome and warm. I was worried that I would stick out like a sore thumb, but the family is half-white and many of Miguel's siblings and cousins have white spouses/partners/significant others.

We had a lot to drink, so Stretch and I crashed there, and ended up sitting up all night talking in his room, drunkenly. He said, "You know, around the office you have this reputation for being closed off."

"Oh, yeah?" I said, intrigued at what the others thought of me... aside from one middle-aged lady who works with us sometimes, I'm the only chick in the place.

"Yeah," he went on, "You know, you never come out with us, don't say much about your personal life... I know your family is far away because you happened to mention it, but that's about it."

I leaned back, "What would you like to know?"

"How long have you been in 'Daygo?"

"A few years..." I said, trying to recall what I know of Joy's past. "I moved here when I was... twenty-one, then I got a job out east for a year, and then I came back this summer."

"Why'd you get into real estate?"

"I like the money," I smirked.

"You don't strike me as a live-to-work kinda gal," he said. "I always thought you were just working to live."

"I'm a bit of a workaholic, sure," I said. "It gives me a lot of pleasure to have goals."

"And this is your goal?"

I thought about it for a second, and answered with a laugh, "More."

He smiled a bit. "How come you're single?"

"Who says I am?"

"Pretty girl like you, alone for the holidays? Come on."

"There was a guy, it didn't work out."

"Just one guy?"

"Just one recently."

"You a one-man woman?"

"Heh. Right now I'm a no-man woman."

"That's cool," he said, although I sensed he was hoping I would say something different.

"What about you?" I asked, turning the tables since I was starting to get uncomfortable, "No girlfriend?"

"Nah," he said. "I can't settle down."

I gave him a "pfft" on that one. The guy's so awkward and goofy that he should be happy with anyone who will take him, to be honest. But I was tipsy and he was charming me, so what do I know?

He seemed like he wanted to make a move, and honestly I don't know what I would have done. Let it happen for a sec, I figure, then pushed him away. It's nice to be kissed, but I really don't want anything. After Joey, and Joy's death, I just... don't have the energy for drama right now. But maybe that means I don't have the strength to say no, either. We'll never know because it didn't happen and I fell asleep alone.

And desperately wanting to touch myself, but I couldn't because any noises I made would probably disturb the guy, sleeping on the cot next to me.

Oh well. Had to save it up for when I got home. Hey, who says I need a man?