Innbox: Mrs. Brooks

Hey all! Tori here again... hope you haven't forgotten about me... Looks like none of pur regulars have had much to say lately (unsurprising since the life of an Inn person can get very... complicated!) I thought Noe would be a good time to share a letter from a fellow visitor that landed in my inbox a while back. Hope I can find the time to update you on my life soon too!

Lots of love,
Tori


Dear Trading Post Inn,


It has been 20 years since I visited the Inn and all these years later, I can hardly believe my luck. Of course at the time I didn't necessarily see it that way, but even at the time I viewed it as a boon of sorts. Like many who have been through this ringer, I lost lots but somehow managed to gain much more. Going to the Inn basically saved my life.


At the time, in the year 1995, I was in my early 40's, still a strapping man if I do say so, but with no prospects. I had spent several years in prison for something that I wished every day I could take back, but would have to live with the knowledge for the rest of my life. In a moment of desperation I held up a gas station... and in my haste to get away, I had forgotten to gas up my car. Funny when you read about it in a "dumb crooks" article, not so much when you live through it.


As much as I tried not to let my time behind bars change me, it was beyond my control. When I got out, I was divorced, jobless, scrounging, unsure what I was going to do from one moment to the next. It was hard to find work, let alone purpose in life. I considered re-offending just to get thrown back behind bars where I was more comfortable. Then my wanderings brought me to Maine, to the Trading Post Inn. And Mrs. Brooks came into my life - or should I say, I came into hers.


It was a shock to wake up one morning and find that I had been transformed into this kindly-looking 55-year-old Kindergarten teacher, but as I learned about my "new life" I felt invigorated. At the time, we didn't know - certainly nobody told me and there was no internet to provide information - that there was a way back. The original Kathleen Brooks had written with resignation that she intended to go back to teaching and hoped that the "new her" would do right by her. I did.


It was not an easy adjustment - I had no formal training as a teacher, no experience with kids. And I can guarantee that the PTA would have had something to say about it if they knew this sweet lady was secretly a male ex-con. But I grew into the role and did my best.


Kathleen's husband was a fine man, gentlemanly... given they had been together for over 30 years when I stepped into the role, I was surprised when he didn't notice me acting suspiciously. Although being a wife, and mother of three grown children, was not the life I envisioned for myself, it also helped provide that purpose I had desperately needed. Mr. Brooks became a warm presence in my life and the love I felt for him by the time he passed in 2007 was very real.


I retired not long afterward. I was determined not to become one of those old widows who can't take care of themselves and since then I have been travelling as much as I can. I've been to 13 countries, tried my hand at learning French and Mandarin, and met amazing people. I have managed to avoid becoming the cliché Bridge-playing old lady, although I do a bit of knitting for the grandkids too!


All this just to say... as I know my time is growing short... the Inn took my old life, my body, and many years from me... but that can never compare to the opportunities and experiences it replaced them all with. And I'm far from done.

My hope is that the rest of you find the good in your situation. I know it's there.

Regards,
Kathleen Brooks II

Innbox: J. and M.

Hey guys, Tori here once more. Sorr I haven't posted lately. Life has actually been kind of crazy and I will have to update you soon. For now, here's a letter from the Innbox. I hesitated before offering to post this person's story because it concerns people who are also posting here, but they're okay with it as it turns out. Another reason I hesitated to post it because it was Valentine's day recently, and well... you'll see :(

And remember, if you've got a story to share, please don't hesitate to e-mail us at tradingpoststories@outlook.com - include your name and "Trading Post Story" in the subject to make sure it stands out!

-Tori

Dear Trading Post,

It hasn't been easy finding my way through this situation but I'm doing my best. My name is J_____ (name withheld on request). Back in the summer, I visited the Trading Post with my girlfriend, M_____. The reservation was a surprise for our first anniversary, as she had told me that the beaches of Maine were the most beautiful part of the country. I was skeptical but booked the trip because, well, that's the kind of guy I am.

She had a point, it was quite impressive scenery... the ocean air, the hiking, walking along hand in hand on the beach. And even if the Inn had a spooky, cold "mysterious secret" vibe, we were enjoying our trip immensely, especially since we didn't have much to do except go for long walks and spend hours and hours in bed. That spooky vibe actually helped us feel a little naughtier, if you catch my drift.

I also just realized... what is it about that place? From the second you step foot in there, you can feel the hairs standing on the back of your neck, some voice deep inside saying "Get out of here!" but you never do. Is that part of the magic? Does it "need" victims? Or am I just too lazy to book another room someplace else?

Then it happened. The thing that happens to everyone who stays there, the thing you all know about. I woke up one morning and rolled over to find a stranger in bed with me. Instead of my petite, blonde girlfriend there was a rather larger person, just lying there asleep on her side, as if nothing was wrong.

She was naked, too - draped only in the tatters of my girlfriend's sexy lace nightie.

I panicked, and let out a scream - only to find my voice had gone up a register. I covered my mouth in a truly bizarre "did that come outta me???" moment, and began noticing all the other strange things. The long reddish brown hair. The slender fingers. The fact that my t-shirt was now several sizes too big... even if it was tented by a pair of petite, perky breasts.

To make a long story short, we realized we had become two different people than we had gone to sleep as - I had become Erin Hanley, and my girlfriend had become Rosie Montand. You've met them through this blog, but if you were wondering what had happened to their bodies, it was us.

So, if you've been reading this blog long enough, you can fill in the blanks: "What the? Are you? Did we? We can't... but we have to!" Believe me, I don't think anyone considers it an easy transition to make. nobody in our group seemed to have experienced it before, so we figured it out together.

Erin was out of work. Rosie worked for the school board and as on summer break. There was a silver lining there... we had time to adjust, I guessed, to figure out a plan and work through it together. But then reality reared its ugly head.

M. was not happy. Yes, she obviously felt bad for me, but she was also very focussed on herself. She was... let's say proud of her appearance. She was gorgeous. If she was taller she could have modeled. She was skinny, sexy, a knockout. Now, she was huge. Tall, heavy-set, unkempt-looking. I told her "I still love you no matter what." It was true. She was hard to comfort, though.

It felt strange trying to wrap my now-shorter arms around her now-larger frame, and talk to her like she was still the woman I loved, but she was.

On the last night before we had to check out - when the Inn was mostly vacant - M. sat me down. Tears in her eyes. I had a whole speech prepared about being brave and seeing it through together. I was going to be the strong boyfriend even though I was secretly terrified (and embarrassed and emasculated and everything.)

She told me she had to do this, no matter what. That she was already thinking of breaking up with me once our trip was over, that she had been having doubts for a long time, and now was probably the time to just admit it and go our separate ways. She felt she couldn't possibly continue "faking it" in this form, and didn't want to use me just to feel good, because she knew it wouldn't last in the long run.

I was shocked. After all that had happened to shake our lives up that week, and now this? The ground just dropped out beneath me. I asked why, couldn't we work it out? Shouldn't we be there for each other?

She said no, if she had to pretend to be Rosie, she was going to do it "right," on her own, and make a clean slate. There was no saving us.

So. She went to Rosie's place in Maine, and I went to Erin's in Indiana. And I just... sat, and moped, and tried to get on with the business of being Erin with nobody by my side who knew who I was. I tried to forget M. ever existed., and in the process I almost forgot that J. existed too. But now it's a new year and I have my reservation for the Trading Post. I am doing fine, and I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. I will put things right the best I can.

M. hasn't answered me to confirm if she is going back too, but I can't see why she wouldn't want to. She was so horrified at the thought of being a plus-sized woman that she locked herself in the bathroom to cry for an hour once we knew there was no way back. She's convinced her old body is so perfect that anyone who wound up in it would "steal" it, but even though that's a possibility, I believe what most people want is to put things right.

I don't know. After all she did to me, I feel like I would have a right to say "To hell with her" and not care what happens either way, but I do care, because it involves other people - good people who deserve better than having their body inhabited by a bitter, self-hating, image-obsessed immature woman like my ex.

-J_____.

Innbox: Katie and Jared

Hey guys! Hope you've been having a very good November, and that the weather is good wherever you are. Things have settled down for a bit lately, so I thought I might dip into the Innbox and share a story with you. This one comes to us from "Katie from Jacksonville."

And remember, fellow Inn people, you can always contact me at TradingPostStories@outlook.com and tell your tale!

-Tori

Dear Trading Post,

What a strange life it is for us. I'm sure by comparison to a lot of people, my story isn't all that dramatic, but it's mine, and I feel safe in sharing it with you. About two and a half years ago, I made a fateful visit to the Inn. I was fresh off a breakup and needed cheering up, and my mom, bless her heart, decided what I needed was a getaway. She's always looked out for me, and I guess in the long run it's great that we have had each other's backs through this ordeal.

On the third morning of our weeklong trip, I awake to find myself transformed... I guess you could say the changes were "minor" compared to what a lot of people go through. I went from 29 years old to 27, shrunk by a few inches and went down a couple of dress sizes. My unruly frizzy brown hair also became straight and blonde. I know, nothing shocking at all about any of this, there's almost no reason for me to speak up, but a new life is a strange experience no matter what.

As I was pondering my own strange transformation, I saw that where my 57-year-old mom had been, was now a strikingly handsome, rugged, 30-year-old man, the husband of my body's original owner! I couldn't believe my eyes and ears as this gentleman called me by my mother's pet name for me, recited facts only she could have known, et cetera et cetera. Insane!

Now, in all the confusion, nobody told us about the blog, or any way back to our old selves... we were coaxed into living as this couple, with the assumption that we would be this way for the rest of our lives! I'm sorry to say, the ship of us returning these bodies to their original occupants seems like it has sailed, as well as us getting our own selves back. We felt resigned to acting like "Katie and Jared"

Don't worry, the story doesn't get gross. Although I had to clear out some very unsettling thoughts relating to the fact that the woman who raised me was now an attractive, age-appropriate man, I assure you I had no intention of playing wife to my own mother. We became more like siblings or best friends.

To her credit, manhood was a good look for her. She took to it like a duck to water. I guess after so many years of being a wife and mother, masculinity is as easy as anything. I could also see her new youth revitalizing her.

And then she met Alice.

You would think it could only happen by accident, but Ma was no fool. She knew what she wanted and what she was getting into. She didn't wait for any new feelings to slowly reveal themselves and then fight them, she was ready and she embraced them, much to my shock! I didn't know it at the time, but only a few months into our time here, she had set up an online dating account and started meeting women! You go, girl!

Alice was my mom's first serious relationship in several years - she and my dad are divorced and she had a few boyfriends after, but always seemed better off single. And when I expressed my shock, she explained that she enjoyed having the chance to be the boyfriend, the partner, that a good woman deserved, instead of having to settle for some of the men she had been with. (She didn't specify whether this included my father, with whom I have a good relationship too.)

Alice is a sweet girl, and obviously very in love with my mom, but... I feel bad for her, since she doesn't know the truth, but that's only a small drawback. My mom treats her like a goddess. She's planning on proposing at Christmas. I voiced my on objections: it's so soon, we have this strange secret that Alice can never be privy to, and she has been hurt before, albeit in another life by a different gender.

But what's worse is that Alice absolutely hates me, for reasons beyond my control.

My main problem is this: Following a quickie divorce (not long after my mom and Alice met,) I am now the ex-wife, and it has raised a lot of questions about why I always seem to be around, why "Jared" is so intent on finding time to hang out with me. She hates me without reason, because even though I have explained I have no feelings for "her man," she believes that she can never truly have him as long as I am in the picture. She and I can only say "It's not like that!" so many times, without offering any true explanation.

So my mom has had to cut me out of her life for the most part, and it stinks.

It's led me to think some pretty drastic thoughts. Since I found this blog, and I know what the Inn is capable of, I sometimes think I should just go back. I have a very good life, but I'm not overly attached to it. Someone else might need it. I'm leery of using this body as leverage or a bargaining chip, but perhaps if certain conditions were met. (And before you asked, the original "Katie" has never contacted me, let alone asked for her body back. Like I said I never even knew it was possible until earlier this year!)

Then I wonder... if I were to go back, if it were all within my control, would I want to be a man? To experience life from the other side of the fence? My mom seems very happy with it, but she also had a very different life from me, with motherhood and divorce and everything. If I go "that way," and it might be fore good, it's like saying I'm done experiencing everything womanhood has to offer - passing on childbirth, motherhood, or even just becoming an eccentric cat lady. And for what... male privilege and a chance to rebuild my relationship with my mother? (Well it certainly seems tempting when you put it that way, but I kind of want to be a mommy someday!)

Looks like I've got a few months to think about that.

I guess this is just to say that even people whose lives aren't 100% upended by the Inn face problems too. It maybe doesn't make for such thrilling reading material, but nobody gets out of there unscathed, I'm sure. And if what I'm going through is just a small sample of the dilemmas faced daily by the rest of you, I genuinely wish for the best, you are all powerful men and women (and others!)

Love to everyone
"Katie" (nevermind my real name, it's gone forever.)
Jacksonville, FL

Tori: How old am I?

It's been... well, quite a weekend.

Mike took me to a party at the house of one of his grad school friends'. It was literary-themed, so I went as Lady Mad Hatter (sparkly purple jacket, bustier, fishnets and top hat of course) and we got him a red checked topcoat and bunny ears so he could be the White Rabbit (I was hoping for gender-swapped Alice, but oh well.) The party was very chill - there was a lot of activity in the kitchen (where Mike was holding court) but I settled in with some couples in the living room, where we sat around on the couches and drank wine, which is more my pace lately.

Unfortunately, the weather's unpredictability lately has really made me feel gross, and I started to get a really serious headache around 11, so I went to find Mike. "Hey, you can stay if you want, but I kind of just want to go home and crawl into bed."

He looked really disappointed in me, asked if maybe I could take some Advil or anything, and I said I would stay longer if he really wanted me to, but I was feeling drowsy and I would quite like to split early if he was cool with it.

He let me go. I felt terrible for leaving, and I wished he would want to come home and take care of me, but I didn't want him to leave the party on my account. Conflicting emotions that resulted in me really having to fight back tears my whole way home. Stupid PMS.

I got home and started to undress for bed, leaving the costume in a heap on the floor and scrubbing my makeup off. I moved from the vanity to the full-body mirror to give myself a good look, to take stock of the way my boobs hang, my butt flattens, my muffin top bunches up. Not that I necessarily mind any of this - I'm not tight little 22-year-old Tori anymore, in the body that intimidated me when I first got here. I carry my wear-and-tear proudly, and honestly I think it makes me feel real, at home with myself, and downright sexy. I wasn't meant to be the pin-up in the body I inherited, I was meant to be me.

We all change over time, usually too subtly to notice... I just happen to have a more recent starting point to reference, a vivid idea of what that girl looked like when she first appeared in my mirror. With some tricks and cheats, I can still look like her, and I've got many more years ahead of being a babe, I'm sure. But when I let it all hang out, I'm... this.

It's not perfect, but I like it - love it, own it - but it leads me to my next thought.

I'm old. Older than I seem, anyway.

I will never quite look as old as I really am. I was born for the first time in 1982, which means I am in reality a 33-year-old person. That being is stuffed into a 28-year-old body, which has really seen a lot in the past five years. I know that doesn't make me a senior citizen, but while I reveled in my youth when I got that extra five years back, that time is now gone and I am older to the world than I was when I went to the Inn. I'm ready to slow down. Is that reasonable at 28, or is it because, in my mind, I'm 33?

This is a stupid dilemma to be having, but also a serious one. Is my brain 5 years ahead of my body? Who am I really? Just when I thought I knew, I found a new thing to obsess about.  I practically wanted to book a CAT scan just to see if my brain looked like that of a 33-year-old man, but I don't think I would want to know if it does.

 Basically, I'm just tired.

On my worst days, I feel like I cheated the aging process, and now feel irrationally afraid of the fact that this is the body I will continue to age in, grow old in, maybe even have a baby in.

Mike came over an hour later - definitely earlier than he would have if I had stayed as long as he wanted - and found me curled up in bed with a book and a glass of water, trying to ignore my anxiety. He crawled into bed next to me and I let him fold me up in my arms. We talked a bit about how I was feeling, and I gave him the abridged version about how I was really feeling "my age." He reassured me that the best years were ahead, and I told him I agreed. Then he said "Besides, there's nothing wrong with staying in bed as long as you want. You've earned it."

He started to kiss and caress me and for a second I thought of uttering that time-honored phrase: Not tonight I have a headache. But if we're being honest, I've always found a good tumble helps with that.

As long as I don't have to do too much.

I love him. I am fighting the urge to tell him just yet because I know it's going to scare him, but we're very stable, and he gives me so much attention and reassurance. It's not perfect, I'd like him to be more available to me, but when he's with me, I really feel it.

Tori: Things are good...right?

Sometimes I regret the fact that I never experienced sex as a man. The few women (mostly one woman) I ever had in my life did give me a certain level of intimacy, but basically 99.9% of my experience is from the female side of the equation. It would be nice to know what it is like to be a man exerting his power over a female partner - and arguably that desire is what led me to pursue my arrangement with Chuck and Jules earlier this year (ultimately, I didn't feel so assertive when we came down to it.) There will always be doubt about what could have been, but I've made my peace with that, it's part of me for the rest of my life. For the most part I'm pretty happy with the way things have worked out. And for the a lot of that part, I'm ecstatic.

Men can be disappointing. Not just as sexual partners, where even the best can be very inconsistent (whereas I seem to be able to accomplish my goal for them just by being present - I've won some of my highest marks on nights when I simply did nothing at all.) but as emotional support. Loving them is difficult.

I like Cute Hipster Mike a lot. I'm very happy with him. He's friendly, funny, charming, sweet, smart... he's not some mindless careerist, he has his own definition of success in life that I find really appealing.

And he's, well... good in bed. Great. Amazing. When he wants to be. We can go for long, long periods of time some nights, and at times when most men would be peaking, he has just been getting started. That's amazing. He has moves I've never seen before. And while in my quieter moments I sometimes let myself think "What if things had turned out different," in the heat of the moment, there's no time for such thoughts, because the only thing going through my head is "Yes, yes, more! I want to be fucked like this for the rest of my life!" He makes me feel like an incredible being of pure sexual delight, and he makes me feel sexy and desirable in a way I couldn't have been in my old life. In a way I couldn't even have been at an earlier point in this life. When we're at our best, when I'm feeling his movement radiating through my entire body, his hands guiding my hips or massaging my soft parts, I feel like I am where I belong.

But he has his off nights too, where he just doesn't seem that into it, where he just wants it quickly and doesn't take as much care as he could. So I settle for what I can get and wait for next time. it's not bad, and it's unfair to expect 110% every time out, but when someone gets you hooked on fine dining, a microwave dinner doesn't really cut it.

That's sort of a metaphor for our whole relationship, too. He likes me a lot, he makes that clear. We're not sure yet if it's love, and he's resisted attempts for me to label it. But what's wrong with wanting a little stability? It's been months. We should be stable. I feel like we're past the "Oh, it's still new" phase. I don't have any doubts, and I don't know where his would be coming from. But maybe I'm skipping ahead a bit.

I'm falling for him. The L-word is imminent. But if I let it out and he doesn't have one ready to match it... guys, that's going to hurt.

Sometimes he takes too long to respond to my texts and I get worried. Sometimes he blows me off at the last minute, but he apologizes profusely. And I try not to let it sting, but... I can't like him less than I do, and I can't seem to make him need me the way I'm starting to need him. I've never felt so out of sync with someone I liked so much, and so desperate to make it work.

I'm one frustrated girl.

But when it's good... when we're lying on the couch watching late night TV, when I get to wake up with him on a Sunday morning, when he does send me thoughtful texts or cute in jokes... my heart gets all fluttery.

Who is this guy? What is this power he has over me?

I mean, who would have thought being a girl would make me such a... girl?

Innbox: The Stevensons

Tori here! I thought I would take a break from updating you on the sordid details of my life to dig into our inbox. Since I set up the new account we've had some correspondences with a few fellow Inn victims, some of whom have agreed to share their stories but don't want to make themselves regular contributors here (not that they wouldn't be welcome.) In fact, our first write-in comes from someone who was at the Inn not long after one of our familiar faces...

Don't forget, if you have an experience you'd like to share with us, please contact us at TradingPostStories@outlook.com! All are welcome!

--

Dear Trading Post,

I have spent weeks attempting to decide whether this site is legitimate or not, whether I could feel comfortable sharing my story. But reading over the accounts from this summer, the timing and details line up. I can tell that what happened to me was indeed shared by people who are writing at this site. I feel satisfied that we are in, as much as can ever be expeted from the internet, a safe space. But all the same, I will proceed cautiously.

My name, by birth, is Glenn Stevenson. I work in middle management at a delivery company in Illinois. I am 47 years old, balding, with a wiry frame and angular features. At least, that's the image I have of myself in my mind's eye. The story in the mirror is quite different, albeit not as much so as some of those who write here. I would never compare what I have gone through personally with some of the traumas many of you have faced, but the curse did hit those around me quite badly.

I was a visitor to the Inn in late July 2015, just after Tyler and Meg were there according to this blog. I was visiting with my 17-year-old son, Mason (not his real name, but I will use it henceforth) and a friend of mine, Leon, whom I had befriended at a support group for divorced men. Which is to say, he needed a drinking buddy, and glommed onto me. When someone from our group recommended a trip to Maine to clear my head and bond with my son, Leon tagged along.

It was important to me to spend quality time with my son this summer. His mother and I split up when he was very young, and I did not see him very much because they moved often. Then a year ago, she accepted a position working with underprivileged communities in Central America and he wanted to stay in the States, so he moved in with me. Suddenly I was a full-time father again for the first time in nearly a decade - and my son was practically a stranger. It was a very difficult school year for him - he is (or was) quite overweight, shy and introverted, and while I don't necessarily oppose the way his mother raised him, I would like to think I would have helped him learn to get out of his shell if I was around, a valuable skill when you are always the new kid in town. Instead, he seemed behind, a bit immature for his age, smart but not socially comfortable yet.

From the moment we arrived, I struggled getting much interaction with him - he is very enamored of screens and not so much the beach - and neither of us were particularly fond of the rustic, almost haunted stillness of the Inn. Leon seemed unfazed, though, and started drinking as planned as soon as we arrived. It became clear that I had to spend more time attending to my friend than my son, especially when he would leer and make comments at some of the female beachgoers. There was a single woman in our age group, Cathy, in one of the rooms, but Leon dismissed her (a shame since she seemed interested in him and I didn't see him doing any better,) and focussed on younger ladies to the point of almost starting a fistfight at one of the bars in town with some college boys whose girls he was chatting up. I did my best to run interference and not encourage him.

It was a few days in. I had taken to letting Leon sleep in my room so that I could keep an eye on him, and Mason was sleeping in Leon's room a couple of doors down. I woke up at 4 AM to various cries for help and some shuffling in other rooms. I tried to shake Leon awake, to no avail. Sensing something amiss, I immediately rushed to my where my son as sleeping to make sure he was ok.

I knocked on the door and called in, "Mason? It's dad..." I started to turn the knob and softly open the door, in case he was asleep. "Mason? I'm coming in."

"Dad?" answered a decidedly unfamiliar voice. "What's happening?"

I clicked on the light and I did not see my son. I saw a very thin girl with curly brown hair propped up in bed wearing my son's Wolverine tee shirt.

"Who are you? Where's Mason?" I was in some proportion angry and scared, but mostly confused because it wasn't like my son to invite strange girls to sleep in his bed.

Especially when the next words out of her mouth were "I'm Mason. Who are you?"

I was about to say "No you're not," which seemed absurd to have to say, but she seemed shocked at the sound of her own voice. She held out a long strand of hair in her fingertips, pulling its curls straight, which she gaped at in awe and horror, like it was the first time she had ever seen it. I could see a strange wave of understanding come over her face.

She whipped the covers off her legs and examined them, as if for the first time. I wasn't sure what I was looking at at all, but she was wearing my son's boxers, which were way too big for her. She pulled the elastic band away and gaped for a moment at what she found, in further surprise.

"No way, no...!" she gasped. "What? What happened?"

I turned my head away, modestly.

She stood, grabbed the shorts to hold them up, then sat down woozily. She just stared in space.

"Listen, I want an explanation," I demanded. "Where is my son? Where is Mason Stevenson?" Around this moment, when I raised my voice, I started to notice its timbre wasn't quite right. And neither was the hand I was waving at him, which lacked my telltale wristwatch tan and (ahem) hairy knuckles. I got distracted examining it.

"Is it you? Dad?" the girl asked. "Are you Glenn Stevenson?"

"How do you know my name?" I asked with suspicion and irritation.

"I'm your son," she said, looking at me, seemingly on the brink of tears, "I'm Mason. Is this a dream, or did this really happen?"

And so, the day proceeded. It took me a moment to fully process, but seeing the face of one Peter Malinowski in the mirror (so the matching I.D. later informed me,) a rather ruggedly handsome individual with a strong hairline and jaw, if a bit of a paunch that I was starting to become aware of as I moved about more during the day. My concern was for my son - something strange had happened to all of us at the Inn, and as a young man now in the unfamiliar body of a female, he was at the most vulnerable, emotionally. I mustered every bit of parenting I could to get him through that day. And he just sat there, quietly detached, with this blank look on his new face, trying to process it. And I had to pretend like I knew everything would be ok.

I returned to my room and held my breath as I flicked on the light, unsure what I would find: there lay a middle-aged woman sprawled face-down on the side of the bed where Leon had been sleeping. Leon was now Peter's wife, Meredith. And when he woke up, he was not pleased about it.

I tried to break it to him gently, watching over him until he stirred, and asking "Leon, are you awake? I've got some bad, weird news, so brace yourself." He seemed to understand and accept that we had transformed, pretty quickly all things considered, (after a lengthy round of "What the fuck, what the fuck, holy shit, I've got a p*ssy," etc.) He would not stop complaining about it, saying I should be the "chick" and he the "dude." I told him I didn't know how we ended up like we did.

A couple of girls - the real Lauren and Tasha, who had arrived at the Inn under the guise of a young married couple (I had seen them but paid no mind) - took us aside and explained the finer details, after we had picked up most of the broad strokes. While we were conferring, I caught my son fidgeting and examining parts of his body.

"Mase!" I hissed, "Don't touch--- uh, I mean, go someplace private, okay?" He went back to the room, sullen and embarrassed. I wasn't sure what the protocol should be, but I didn't want to give him the impression that his body wasn't his to touch. Still, if I had a daughter, I wouldn't want her fidgeting with her breasts in a crowd of strangers. Leon as doing the same, but I couldn't stop him from doing so. I just wanted him to set more of an example.

"Okay, I'm a chick but do I have to be such an ugly one?" Leon said, examining Meredith's face in the mirror. I wouldn't describe her as ugly, only that she looked her age, which incidentally was still younger than Leon by a bit. She was in her early 40's, with short, light-colored hair, and a few frown lines, bags under her eyes... with a thin waist, but very round hips and thighs, and breasts that Leon described, disturbingly, as "Sag-a-licious."

"Leon, I understand we're all shocked, but could you keep your attitude more appropriate while my son is around? Try to be positive? He doesn't need to dwell on the negatives situation."

Leon scoffed and used some more vulgar language to describe his new appearance. He started drinking quickly.

Tasha and Lauren instructed us that we could probably find some kind of letter or note explaining who the Malinowskis were and what had become of them, and an impassioned plea to safeguard their lives. It seemed the responsible thing to do, if burdensome. But their letter made no mention of a daughter, only a son - Trevor. I had seen a strapping teenage boy around the Inn over the morning but hadn't had time to ask who he was or anything. That turned out to be Cathy, whose appearance inspired jealousy in Leon. She didn't seem too fazed by it either, all things considered.

The note that Trevor had left her was the one that chilled me... because the Malinowski didn't have a daughter. The girl my son now appeared to be was a local girl who snuck away from her parents to spend the night with Trevor. That explained why the baggage we found there wasn't for her, and there was only the barest minimum of personal effects for her stashed away in Trevor's room: one clearly worn set of clothes, and a clutch purse containing a hastily-written note that agreed with Trevor's. It identified her as Brooke Shaner.

I had even seen a posting asking for information on her whereabouts. People were looking for her, and if my son was now her, then taking him across state lines, either to the Malinowski's home in Delaware or mine in Illinois, would be a felony. My heart completely stopped as I realized my only options were to break the law or surrender my son to strangers, leaving him alone and vulnerable and trapped in a strange body that didn't match his mind.

I mulled it over for a bit and concluded Mason was old enough to be involved in the discussions. So at the end of the day I sat him down on the bed. He was a sad sight, shoulders hunched, hair tangled over his girlish face, which was red and streaked by dried tears he clearly didn't want me to see.

"Hey, buddy, listen. We are in a really tough situation right now. You understand, right? What's happened to us?"

"Uh huh," he sighed. "I'm... I turned into a girl."

"Right," I said, "A specific girl. Someone who is missing, someone whose parents are worried right now. And as a parent, I understand what they're going through. And if you walked through their door right now, they would be very happy, very relieved. But if I let that happen, I would feel like I was abandoning you. I have a responsibility to you. And if you don't want to go, I will do my best to protect you and keep you safe."

"I'm so confused," he sniffed, choked up, "You want me to go live with strangers?"

"No I don't want that at all," I insisted, "But like I said, it's a tough choice. And we're going to make it together. I can't get us back to our own lives, our own bodies, but that doesn't mean... I don't think it means we're stuck. Not forever. I'm going to get us out of this."

He froze for a moment, then said quietly, "I don't want to go."

I wrapped my arms around him. He resisted at first - hugs were always kind of an awkward moment between us and now he was in a body that wasn't his and clearly uncomfortable just being touched - but he wrapped his thin arms around me, and I said into his ears "It's going to be okay, I love you, it's going to be okay."

I didn't sleep at all that night. Partly was that after waking up to such a shock, you find it difficult to get comfortable in the Inn. Partly, I was head-to-toe with Leon and had his Meredith-feet in my face (he first demanded I sleep on the floor but I told him that wasn't feasible.) Mostly I was trying to come up with ways to smuggle my son out of the state. Would we go to Illinois first, or Delaware? Would they be looking for her at the airport, or would we have to drive? What if we cut her hair, disguised her with make-up... would we have to hide her in the trunk?

KNOCK KNOCK.

A loud rapping at the door at 6 am. Oh, no, I thought, what now.

My worst fears: a pair of police officers were canvassing the Inn holding a picture of Brooke. "Sorry to wake you sir, but we got a tip that this girl might be at this Inn."

I had to think quick and stammered, "I, um... I think..." I sighed, reluctantly, "Yeah, I think I saw her but I don't know if she's still here."

"But she was here?"

I tried to backpedal "I don't know, there was a girl here but I didn't get a... uh, good look at her."

"Do you mind if we search your room? Just as a precaution."

"I, um... yeah, sure." I gritted my teeth, trying to figure out a way to stall them.

Leon stirred, deeply hung over, "What the fuck, Glenn?"

"These cops are looking for a missing girl... honey," I said, playing husband.

One of them asked, "Your name, sir?"

"P-Peter..." it took me a moment to recall "my" new last name, "Melanski." I got it wrong, but they didn't check. They also didn't ask why my "wife" had called me "Glenn." Leon just laid there, muttering "Fuckin' pigs" under his breath while I tried to hush him.

As soon as they left I scrambled for my phone to text Mason, but I paused... if I warned him, it could be incriminating. If I did anything I could be in trouble. I froze.

I watched them bring my son outside to the Shaner family, who were waiting for their daughter.

I had failed.

When Mason turned to look at me, with a look of fear and confusion on his face, I mouthed, "I tried, I'm so sorry. I love you."

I felt like the worst father, the worst person ever.

I had waited a day to contact the real Malinowskis, currently in Albany, because I didn't know what my plan was going to be. Now it felt like nothing I did mattered, so I agreed to take Leon and Cathy to Delaware. The real Peter is an amenable person, which probably is partly due to currently feeling helplessly trapped in the body of a ten-year-old girl. We started working on plans right away to get everyone back where they belonged, but I could only think of my son.

I worried the whole way about how I was going to contact him, how I was going to rescue him. I didn't have a phone number for Brooke, and he had left his phone in his/Leon's room. But Cathy reminded me that kids today have a huge social media presence, and he would probably still check his own Facebook profile.

I sent him a message from mine: "We are in Delaware. Tell me if you're OK. I still want to help you, to fix this."

It wasn't until the next day that I got a reply: "I'm ok."

I didn't press him for more details, but if I'm being honest, I wanted to shake him until he told me everything he had been through. I had a hard enough time getting two words out of him when things were normal, and now we were separated and there was a chance I'd never see him again. I asked for more details as politely as I could and he just said "Don't really wanna talk about it. Sorry."

I want him to feel like he can come to me, but now there's this huge wedge between us... he's going through something that I can't fully comprehend, and we're so far apart it's like I'm not even his dad. I don't know what to do... but I'm determined to do something.

Anyway, that's my story. So far. Thanks for hearing me out.

-Glenn, "Peter Malinowski" Stevenson

Postscript: I have invited Mr. Stevenson to take part in our blog, and would extend that invitation to any member of his "family." His response was that it took him so long to compose this letter that he didn't see regular contributions as practical, but would consider checking in when he was able to, hopefully when there is good news. Best of luck! -T.

Tori: The Long Run

You already know I made a little trip to NYC on Labor Day weekend. I haven't been to NYC all that much since living in Philly - a couple of times a year when I need a nice little day trip. Growing up in Buffalo, I was actually kind of bitter about that place, because it seemed to be both the center of the universe and somewhere just too far away. And Philly has been good to me (even if the Phillies are in the toilet, Missy.) But my brother Dean and his family just bought a new place in North Jersey that I wanted to visit, so when I found out some of our Boston contingent would be in the city for the tournament, I figured I would hop across the river and meet some of the people I've only known in e-mails, texts and blog posts.

I was worried I would feel out of place among them. For Rosie and Erin, this whole thing is brand new. Missy and Benjamin are also at a crossroads. I couldn't get a good read on Benny. It's all in the past for me, and you would think I would be sick of talking about it, and some days I am, but I live in such secrecy that I never shy away from a conversation with someone who's been there too.

I would like to report that Jordan/Missy/whomever she'd like to be exaggerated my flirtatiousness, but what can I say? There's an energy amongst people who are on their second or third body, and with all that testosterone flying around with no real outlet, people get caught up in the energy. Even Rosie, wallflower that she/he is, stole a glance at Missy's figure when he could.

A fellow Inn person, who would prefer to remain anonymous, manages a club in Midtown, so I brought the boys there, and the drinks flowed. I got each of them on the dancefloor - Erin was the most willing, Rosie the least, and made it clear that I didn't mean anything by it. Seriously. All I want is for these folks to find out who they really are, you know? I don't mean to impose my worldview on them, but I don't know where I would be today if I hadn't had people pushing my boundaries from the second I started my new life.

Besides, I already alluded to in my last post, there is a new guy in my life. I call him Cute Hipster Mike, and he is indeed a cute hipster. He's actually my first bearded guy. I mean, every guy is stubbly to some degree, but I've always expressed a preference for clean-shaven boys. I considered it this strange taboo of overt masculinity I simply wasn't ever ready to break. Is that weird? I like my guys thin, less than a head taller than me, and smooth. Hipster Mike is a burly lumberjack-looking fellow, and when I saw him at the wedding, something about him struck me. Like, I want that person to hold me. He reminds me of Chris Pratt. And I do like Chris Pratt.

He texted me a few days after the wedding, saying he hoped I didn't mind if we weren't just a "one off." I said no, I would be quite interested in continuing, and we made arrangements to have a coffee someplace nice the following weekend.

By now I'm very practiced at first dates. I'm very sweet, charming, outgoing, personable... accessible. I share almost anything about my life that the other person cares to know, except things I am unable to mention due to magic curse. It took us a bit to click, though. He asked me about music I liked, and we didn't have much common ground. I asked him about movies, and he said he was "starting to feel fatigued by cinema."  A bit pretentious and I could feel myself losing interest. Then we started to talk about work. He said he was bartending for a couple of years, and I was ready with my "Oh, it's okay if you haven't found your way yet" speech from numerous past boyfriends, when he continued:

"My real passion is for animals. I volunteer three times a week at a no-kill shelter, walking and feeding dogs and cats, helping them find homes. It's really rewarding. I'll probably do it for the rest of my life."

Couldn't you just melt?

I told him about Scruff, my family's old English Sheepdog who looked like he was on his last legs. His eyes got noticeably misty and he talked about his own childhood pets. Sensitive guy! Yes! From then on I could really feel the chemistry brewing.

He walked me home and complimented my "FORWARD" tattoo, saying that if there was a story behind it, he'd like to hear it. I sighed: "It couldn't be more cliche'd... I got it after a breakup, of sorts." I sighed a bit, thinking over the details of my life, "Some days it feels like I've just been living through one long break-up."

"Well, whoever he was, he's an idiot for letting you get away," he said.

"That's sweet to say, but it's a bit more complicated than that," I said. "And if he had his way, I'd still be with him."

There was a pause, and I made myself apologize for derailing such a nice date.

He attempted to joke his way out of it, saying "Hey, what's a first date without a little melodrama?"

"Uh huh, sure," I said. Then I took a deep breath and said, "Mike, I'm really liking you."

He fell quiet, like I'd just smacked him in the face.

"Tori," he said in a weirdly grace tone, "I think you're really great, but..." Oh, God, here it comes,  "...I'm not really looking for anything serious right now. But I was thinking we could be, like..." Don't say it... "Casual."

Damnit.

The word felt like poison in my ears. I felt tricked, honestly. He came across so well, so sweetly, and then this came out of nowhere. And it was such a cliche, too, but at least the other guys had the balls to say it before we ever met, when we were still in the online profile or texting phase, where I could pretend I was OK with it before agreeing to meet, or (more likely,) avoid them altogether. It wasn't fair.

I spent so much of my old life trying to get attention, and now that I had it, it wasn't the right kind. Cosmic joke.

I almost wanted to cry, just as in impulse, but I kept it together. Instead I just groaned and pulled away from him. I got my bearings, and I unloaded.

"What does that even mean? Can you explain that to me? I hear that from so many guys, as if I'm supposed to be okay with it, like I won't end up feeling used. Yes, I want something physical, but I want something emotional, too. I wanted to be romanced. Cared for. Like I'll just go along for the ride hoping you'll change your mind. Fuck, Mike. Someone's got to want the same thing as I do. And I won't settle for less. Not again. So if you don't see this going anywhere... if you want to just string someone along and have a little fling, find someone else. I'm sorry."

I regretted saying sorry as soon as it had left my lips. If I wasn't entitled to my opinions here and now, who was?

I was on the verge of a serious breakdown. He kept his distance. I wanted to storm off but I stayed put to hear his response. It was underwhelming, but promising.

"Can I think about it?"

"Whatever," I sighed. "We'll see."

The next day he texted me. He gave this spiel about how he just had his guard up, how he's been hurt before, yadda yadda. He isn't sure he's in "the right place." I let him go on for a while, then answered minimally a few hours later. "Uh huh. Ok."

A couple of days later he texts again. "Still thinking about what you said. I was being pretty unfair. Some of my female friends pointed out that's a dick move." Not technically an apology, or even admission of wrongdoing. My response: "Yeah, kind of was."

A week passes. I think about him a bit. What a shame, there seemed to be potential. Then I hear from him. Not booty call messages at 2 AM, but mid-afternoon: "So, I really liked talking to you. Would it be weird for me to at least text you sometimes?"

Guys can be so awkward when you've got them under your thumb. I was feeling forgiving - empowered, even - so I answered. "Give it a try and we'll see."

He starts telling me about his days on a regular basis, and I tell him about mine. His charm doesn't quite come across as well over text, but I'm sensing that spark again.

Those texts become more frequent. He makes tentative attempts to get me to come out and see him. I find myself more and more drawn back to him. But I still resist. I keep it light and friendly and as time goes by - days, weeks - I pepper my conversation with more flirtations and come-ons, to let him know what he's missing out on. But I do find myself looking forward to his responses.

"I'm out with some friends," he says on Friday night in August. "Come say hey?"

"I can do that from here ;) See? Hey."

But I do go, and we have a drink and I meet his friends, and they're all as goofy and pretentious as he is, if not moreso to make him seem down to Earth. (They all talk about how they've traveled Europe and Asia and all I've got is this story about a quaint little Inn I once visited in Maine.)

Eventually, we steal a moment together. "Listen," I admit. "I want a boyfriend. I want something solid. And I know you can't force it. I know that isn't instantaneous. But I want someone willing to give it a shot. Someone who won't run as soon as things get serious, who won't throw fits about how they aren't ready to commit. I can't waste my time, I owe that to myself."

He digested this. "You're right. I really think we'd be good together."

"Mike," I smiled at him and put my hands on his cheeks. "We are good together."

He smiled warmly at me. "Let's give it a shot."

We kissed, and I went home that night walking taller than I have in a long time. Sometimes I don't apply myself towards getting what I really want, and bend to the whims of others, and in the past I might have said "Causal, sure, if that's what's best." But today, I'm a new woman. I'm done floating, because this is my life and it isn't a game. I won't settle. I'm worth it. And I deserve someone who sees it.

We've been pretty happy so far...

Jordan/"Missy" Yuan-wei: Early Homecoming

I'd figured on my next post being about the strangeness of being back in college again, but it's been both strange and familiar enough that I'm still not sure I've got anything to say about it yet.  Similarly, I didn't expect to make a trip back to New York for a few weeks or even months, because it really wouldn't do to get homesick this early, and, hey, if I were in Benny's shoes, I don't know if I'd want to have me or Annette around.  But he's not me.

He emailed Benjamin while I was in Hong Kong, asking if there was anything else he needed to know, also mentioning that this year's big North American Chinese Invitational Volleyball Tournament (NACIVT 71) was being held in New York and the team that he and Max were on had registered.  It's not a big deal, he said - they would be a low seed - but maybe, if he had some folks like us in town for the weekend, it would help him feel less like an impostor in the middle of this very Chinese-American event.

We hemmed and hawed about it - even if Benny didn't think it was going to be weird, it was going to be weird, Benjamin had pavement to pound to find a job, and I had no idea how busy school stuff was going to keep me.  But it was a hard invitation to refuse, especially since I knew Mom, Dad, and Max would be there, and even if I hadn't seen them much over the past year or so, I didn't like the feeling that they'd been cut out of my life just like that.  Even if I didn't talk to them, just to see them might be a big thing.

Once we decided we were doing it, Benjamin asked if we were going to be flying first class, but I don't exactly know what sort of charges on this credit card will make Chen-ai freak out and cut me off.  You hear stories about Chinese kids coming to America and just spending stupid money without bothering to go to classes at all, but that's mostly mainlanders, and while I didn't see anything in Hong Kong to imply that the Lee family put a particular value on thrift, I'd hate to blow it on the first week.  I did spring for the Acela train, since I have done the Chinatown bus before and... No.

Saturday

Benjamin came over early to help me pack, asking what our itinerary was.  Leaving Saturday and returning Monday apparently does not mean two changes of clothes if you're a girl like Yuan-wei - it means at least five, as you'll need day stuff, night stuff, and contingency night stuff.  Fortunately, some of that stuff doesn't take up much space, which is kind of nerve-wracking on its own, but it meant bringing an actual suitcase rather than a backpack.

The train ride was pretty uneventful - not that much faster than the bus, or even the regular train, but much more comfortable.  I also booked us a decent hotel - not flashy, but in midtown, and not a place where we'd feel uncomfortable getting in late.

Still...  After we got off the train and walked there, we stopped while still across the street and looked up.  I turned to Benjamin and started the question we were both thinking.  "You don't think...?"

"Cursed?  No way!  This is right in the middle of Manhattan, not some small town on the coast of Maine!  You couldn't hide that, right?"

"Nah, you're right."

"Still...  Ladies first, especially if they're paying for it."

Near as I can tell, there were no ill effects.

After getting our things stowed, we took the subway down to Chinatown, and I kind of enjoyed the trip, telling Benjamin how, although my family would come there to shop, we actually lived at the other end of the "Orient Express" in Queens.  It was kind of fun to walk to Seward Park and point stuff out; we really didn't have the chance to do that much when we were living on the other end of the island.  Okay, maybe we had chances but I was never in any mood.

We got there and asked about the Queens Kings, got a schedule, and found out that they'd be playing in an hour or so.  We walked around, scoping things out, Benjamin texting a bunch.  When we got to the court where Benny & Max would be, we set up a few yards away from where my parents and Kareena were, where we could sort of keep an eye on them without necessarily being with them.  Still, the fact that they were standing together had Benjamin leaning in to comment.  "Must be working out."

"Well, it had better."

"Quiet, rich sexy bilingual girl."

I shushed, although I whooped a little when it was time for Max and Benny to come out.  More, I'll have you note, than Tina Chen, who was there but sort of stood with her arms folded, looking angry.  I'm guessing that "Jordan's" new Hindu girlfriend was not a hit with her.

Anyway, I was never really into 9-man, as I wasn't athletic even as a kid, but it's a pretty good game, and Jordan really seemed to have improved the team.  They won, and as they came off the field, Benjamin grabbed my hand to head in Benny's direction.

(Shit, that looks ridiculous, but I can't call him Jordan yet.  I just fucking can't.)

He staggered a little bit when he realized who we were.  "Benny...  I didn't think you'd come."

"Benjamin, these days."  He smiled.  "And this must be Kareena."

"Uh, hi.  Sorry, I'm just meeting Jordan's friends, and I don't think he's mentioned you."

Benjamin froze, so I jumped in.  "Call of Duty co-op.  Killed a lot of nights together, until he started finding something better to do." I reached out my hand.  "Lee Yuan-wai, although I go by 'Missy' here."

She seemed to like Benjamin more than me, even though I'd tried to look pretty unthreatening, from flip-flops to light make-up.  Maybe on some level she recognized me as either old-Jordan or Deirdre, or that Benjamin had her lover's true face, or that the version of Ravi that really dug her and was eventually honest was underneath.  Or he's good-looking and I'm a pretty girl in her boyfriend's life she didn't know about.

We faked small talk for a little bit, and then Benjamin got a call.  "Hi...  You are?  Cool, we're at the other corner; Missy's in the cute yellow dress.  See you in a few!"  She hung up, and then gave us a look that screamed "teenage girl" to Benny and me.  "So, that was another member of our, uh--"

"Party?"

"Yeah, our 'party'!  She's from Philly and -- oh, there she is!"  Benjamin reached up a hand to signal a woman who stood out, and not just for being white in the middle of a big Chinatown event.  She was hot, in her mid-twenties, wearing tight shorts and a t-shirt with a plunging neckline to show off some pretty nice tits.  "Hey, Tori - don't think I've ever seen you off-line!"

"Well, I stick close to home."  She looked around and started pointing.  "Benjamin, Missy, Jordan, Kareena?  What about, uh...?"

"Chris and Ahmir?  The other members of our, uh, gaming party said they'd meet up later if that was okay."  He turned to Benny and looked apologetic.  "Hey, I didn't mean to derail this, but we so seldom get to meet in person, so I kind of texted everyone I knew in the area, and when Tori said she'd be in Jersey for the weekend, well, I kind of didn't want to pass up the chance to meet her.  You mad?"

Benny looked about as mad as one could be when a girl who looks like Tori just comes over to talk to you rather than vice versa, which is a pretty small amount.  "I just didn't realize it was going to be a big thing, was all."

"I know, I'm sorry, I just couldn't help myself!"

"Well, I've got to get back with the team; we've got another match, but I'll see you all after."

He didn't quite run away, but he made some haste, and then Kareena turned to us, looking amused and skeptical.  "So.  Gamers."

I don't know how much Tori played, but Benjamin mostly just went for casual off-line stuff, so I stepped in.  "Yeah, we've been playing together for a few years, although the new campaign has been kind of tricky without good old JordoNYC, but I can't blame him for staying offline so much now that I see you."  I felt like I was repeating myself, but I really didn't want Kareena thinking of me as competition when I spent time around Benny.

"You just don't, I don't know, look that part like Jordan used to."

That stung a bit, but I tried not to let it get to me.  "That's what folks told me, but sometimes looks are deceiving."  Needing to improvise, I grabbed Benjamin's hand.  "But it led me to this guy, and we've sort of been together for a year now."

"Really?  You must have just been out of high school!"  I didn't see it going that way, since Benjamin doesn't look that much older than he actually is - I think his driver's license has him born in 1991 - but, hey, if it shifted Kareena's attention from me...

Kareena's phone rang, which was a nice interruption, and we went our separate ways.

Saturday evening

There are a million great restaurants in New York, but somehow we wound up in one of those Times Square places, seated at a table for six, although initially it was just me, Tori, and Benjamin.  She leaned over the table and raised her voice a bit to get heard over the noise.  "So I thought I was cool with being a girl quickly, but look at you, actually choosing it and wearing it so well!  I'm jealous!"

"Well, I didn't entirely choose it--"

"Girl, that dress is choosing it."

"Really?  I wasn't going for sexy."

"There's more to being feminine than being sexy, Missy, and you might not quite be a natural, but you're learning."

"Well, I've got a pretty good teacher."

''Heh, I could have used that at times. Along with everything else - you really hit the jackpot!''

I shrugged - what do you say to that? - and she somehow shifted conversational gears in a way that I was never good at to talk to Benjamin. ''And how are you doing? I remember when I found out that Willy was keeping my life, and even though I didn't have as much to lose as you did, I was devastated. Are you okay?"

"I don't know... I mean, it's been a year since I was that person, and this is exciting.  I miss my mom, but a lot of the other things, like college and stuff, I never really had."

"Good attitude! Hey, here comes Benny!" she stood and waved the guy at the door over. When he got there, she asked if he would rather be called Benny or Jordan in groups like this.

"Well, I'm not in many of them, and I've gotten pretty used to Jordan, but... I guess it would be nice to hear the other one again. Unless it's too confusing?"

I jumped in, saying it wasn't too hard to tell "Benny" from "Benjamin". It made him look at Benjamin weird again, them me. ''How did this not drive you nuts?"

"Hey, you made me pretty fucking hard to recognize.  Usually that tops out at a new hair color, from what I've heard."

''Heh, I suppose that's true. So, about earlier, are you two...?"

Benjamin quickly shook his head no. ''Everyone thinks we are, because they were, but you can't come into a relationship halfway and have it be real, right?"

"No, but sometimes I worry about what I'm not telling Kareena. At least you guys wouldn't have that."

Tori leaned in toward Benjamin and kind of purred. "Don't make assumptions about his plans... maybe Benjamin would like to play the field a bit?"

Benjamin almost choked on his beer, and from the way he squirmed before Tori smiled and turned her attention elsewhere, I'm guessing that Tori grabbed his knee under the table, if not something a bit higher up.

After a few minutes of small talk - Tori had evidently adopted the Phillies enough that I, as a Mets fan, could do a bit of smack-talking - the server brought both our appetizers and the last couple members of our group.

Erin hasn't posted much, and Rosie not at all, but they were a funny looking pair. Whether or not I'm shorter than Erin is as Chris depends on my footwear, while Rosie/Ahmir is almost a foot taller, but Erin gives the impression of being bigger in some ways.  She was the one who reached out her hand to introduce herself, seemed really curious about what it was like for me seeing Benny take things up that I hadn't done before, like 9-man, and then asked the group if any of us had experienced any sort of muscle memory or other skills that seemed to come with the body. She was kind of disappointed to hear that not only did Benny not speak Cantonese, but he had really felt at sea in his first class. Tori mentioned that she hadn't been able to do hair at all when she first entered this life, and quickly stopped trying.

"Well, bummer. No shortcuts, eh?" We all shook our heads. "Okay. I do have one question for 'Benjamin' specifically: Do you spend, like, an hour on your hair before heading out to do stuff? I swear, I'm so used to make-up and trying on different outfits and stuff that I must have brushed this five thousand times because it felt like I wasn't doing enough. And Rosie doesn't even have that!"

We all chuckled - Rosie had come out of the Inn with a shaved head, although a month or two worth of growth had come in. She didn't seem terribly fucking amused, though.

''How can you all joke about this?"

Tori shrugged. "Because it's funny. There's this whole list of things you assume and then they aren't true and you fall on your face, but sometimes it turns out that the bad things aren't true, either. And once you decide that this is your life, the differences become really funny. And that kind of applies to the people I know who have gone back. I know this guy who spent eleven months as a girl, and he laughs so hard whenever he sees some dude get all uncomfortable around feminine health stuff, because to him it's just like toothpaste now. Once you know who you're going to be-"

"But we don't know! You all had people steal your old lives-"

"Benny and I didn't," I interjected. 

"You kind of did! He changed so much that going back seemed wrong! And what if things go wrong? Like, what if it doesn't work out with him and Kareena, or the real Missy decides being a housewife isn't for her? You'd have to give them their old lives back, right?''

"Maybe, but I can't worry about that now, or I'd never fucking do anything!"

Benjamin grabbed my hand to calm me down, and then got us onto another subject: New sexes, ethnicities, and all aside, how was everybody enjoying New York? That got Benny talking about how he had found work at a gym that the team's coach managed, while I talked about some places I really liked and Benjamin did the same.  Erin wasn't quite taking notes, but she was certainly paying attention.

That took us through dinner, at which point ton said "speaking of things to do, I've got a friend of a friend who can get us into a pretty great club. You guys in?"

Benny demurred, saying that he had another match on Sunday and, besides, Kareena would already be wandering what was up. Erin was interested, but even if Rosie was saying she might, I could tell they were going to have to keep convincing her all the way to the door. 

Thinking of the door, I laughed bitterly.  "'Yuan-wei' just turned twenty, and I haven't even thought to look for any sort of fake ID yet.  Goddamn it, this wasn't a problem in Hong Kong!"

Benjamin laughed and hoisted his drink. "Well, at least I'm not underage like this!"

Tori looked more disappointed. ''Aw no, I wanted to party with my new former-guy friend! A girl as cute as you - and I'll bet you've got a killer dress back at your hotel room -should still set in, though! Wanna try?"

I kind of did, but... "Not tonight; you guys have fun.  I'll make sure to be better prepared next time."

Tori said she was holding me to that, and us we went to head our separate ways, Benjamin came over and said that if I'd rather do anything else, she was down for it. I told her to go have fun - Tori obviously wanted him grinding on her, and the new guys clearly needed a bad example to learn from.  I'd catch the new Jackie Chan movie, which wasn't playing Boston, just in case our paths crossed the next time I was in Hong Kong, as apparently happens on occasion. He thanked me for continuing to be a dick.

As expected, the movie wasn't very good, and I sighed a little looking at the dress I had packed for clubbing, not quite sure whether I had missed out or dodged a bullet.

Sunday

That was an even tougher question when I saw Benjamin the next morning. We were going to hit one of his favorite brunch places, but the way he looked as he opened the door suggested we should hit a place with Bloody Marys instead. "Tori really did a number on you, huh?"

''She's had practice," he groaned. "You should learn from her. That thing where she seems to be matching you drink for drink but somehow winds up the one loading you into a cab despite being a petite little thing is something you should know."

''At least she put you in that cab."

"The lady's a gentleman."

Whatever state she had been in when Benjamin left her, she was also a bit hung over when we met up at Seward Park for the next day of 9-Man.  Oh, she looked good in her plain white T-shirt and knee-length jean shorts, but she was accessorizing with dark sunglasses and a giant iced coffee. She started to say something, then just motioned to a bench.

We kept it pretty quiet for a while, as the sun was feeling pretty merciless. Given that 9-man is generally played in parking lots and other asphalt surfaces - unlike regular volleyball, you can play on a bounce - it was likely to be a rough day.

We hung out like that until it started to get crowded, when we wandered back over to the court and Tori nodded at my/Benny's group. "Check it out; Kareena decided to bring the heat today."

I glanced over and she had, decked out in running shorts and a sleeveless, midriff-baring top to match. The earrings and hair a bit more elaborate than a ponytail contradicted the "just out for a run" look a bit, but she didn't look tarty or anything.

Benjamin rolled his eyes. "You girls give yourselves way too much credit; it's just a hot day where she's trying to keep cool."

I shook my head.  "Anyone else, I'd probably agree, but you forget I knew her for a year before going to the Inn. She was pretty conservative clothes-wise, even in the middle of a heat wave that might actually compare to what she grew up with in India. She's sending a message, and it looks like she's delivering it in person."

Benjamin did a bit of a double-take at that, and before we knew it, Karena was standing next to us; those long legs can cover some ground. ''Hi; can we talk? Maybe over there?'' She dropped her voice a bit. "Jordan's parents."

I wasn't sure what that was about, but we moved over to the bench we'd been on before. ''First, I want to apologize for doubting you yesterday; Jordan says he never would have had the nerve to, well, let things with us happen if not for you guys."

That should have made me feel good, but I couldn't help but think of how it severely understated my contribution.  Benjamin must have seen that on my face, because he jumped in. ''That's us, pep-talk masters! Although I think we just gave him the last push he needed."

Uh-huh. I guess there have been more disheartening Inn-related fictions. though.

"Anyway, thanks for pushing him, although it's still kind of a weird situation - my folks are I not /I pleased with me leaving his roommate, and some of the talk at dinner about how Max should have known his last girlfriend was no good because she'd been seeing someone else when they started going out... well, we're probably going to wait to tell then the whole stay of how we met for some time!"

I snickered a bit. "I imagine so!" Truth be told, though, I was kind of wondering about Mom's & Dad's pickiness. I couldn't remember ever experiencing it. Had it been there all along and I didn't see it because I was the one they might think was too good for some girl, or was it the opposite - that they had higher standards for Benny than me?

Kareena then said something about wishing she had joined us last night, although Tori assured her that it was a night full of boring gaming staff and in-jokes that we barely got. Then Benjamin gave an example that sounded like just any nerdy thing, but which he knew from the past year that Kareena was into - old-school Doctor Who or something - and they started chatting away while Tori and I watched the guys play and I refused to tell her which one was my brother. I like her, but there's weird drama when she sets involved with guys.

The match ended with Max and Benny on the losing team, so Kareena ran off to tell her boyfriend that he was great anyway... with Benjamin awkwardly shaking his hand and then just continuing to sit there. 

It took a minute for the scene to register with me, and then I burst out laughing.  "Tori, I think that Benjamin really likes Kareena!"

"You mean... Aw, our little girl is becoming a man. Or at least, a heterosexual one!"

Benjamin had turned red. "Shut up, guys! what am I supposed to do with this?"  He did a quick nod toward his groin in case someone didn't get it.

We looked around; there was a pretty good crowd. "Just wait it out," I said, "though this can't be your first random boner."

Tori giggled and said she didn't think that there was anything random about it. Benjamin flashed her the stink-eye and and said he'd had morning wood, but you could generally take care of that under the covers. I shrugged and said he was going to have to wait it out.

Tori took our leave of us then, saying she really did want to see the extended family and, besides, it wasn't going to get any better than this.  Benjamin flipped her the bird, and I joked that this is when you know you've made a good friend quickly. He didn't disagree.

I did my best to help, talking about non-sexy things, and when Benjamin was finally feeling ready to stand, we decided to head out.  It seemed Kareena and company weren't done with us for the day, though.  She, Benny, and my parents were watching another match that some of my old neighbors were involved with, and while I was trying to think of a good way to come introduce myself, Benjamin was apparently checking out the horizon a little further out and saw something that made him start running.  I looked up at the path he was following and picked up my pace once I saw why.

Ravi.

By the time I got through the crowd, Benjamin had apparently already introduced himself, and while the argument wasn't heated yet, I could see it was on the way there, with Ravi saying he didn't care that Benny and Kareena hadn't told my parents everything and that Benny should have thought of that before stealing his girlfriend, with Benjamin answering that he didn't seem to be all about maintaining relationships when he was fucking Gary's ex.

Probably not the best time for me to butt it, but I did anyway, pushing them away from each other and saying this was not the time and place, and that my parents didn't need any part of what was...  Well, not even between Ravi and Benny, because the situation was resolved, and it was time to accept things and move the fuck on.

It didn't even take him a second to realize who I was, and he said that was rich coming from me, because if I'd have been so willing to accept things a year ago--

I cut him off.  "Nothing would have changed except that we all would have spent the last year even more miserable.  You wouldn't have had the excuse of Deirdre not being around when you wound up sleeping with Gary's ex - and you would have, because I can't imagine deciding to actually act like your fiancée - so they would have been left an even bigger mess.  Everything up here would have played out the same, except Benny probably gives me my life back and I'm stuck in a fucking love triangle with you and Kareena while Annette winds up with this life but having no way to navigate the Chinese part of it.  How the hell is that better?"

"I could have gotten Kareena back afterward."

"You're fucking gay!  Seriously, do you realize how much more fucking sense your life makes if you just accept that?  I wasn't exactly in any position to act jealous, but he--" head nod toward Benjamin "-- hooked up with some pretty sexy guys when he was you!  You could probably even be friends with Kareena again, and you must notice how much happier she is with someone who actually wants her rather than seeing her as an obligation or a way to avoid facing what's goddamn obvious!"

That's when I noticed he was clenching his fist.  "What, trying to decide which one of us is the guy you can hit?  Do you think that's going to impress Kareena at all?"

He opened his hand, but didn't look like he was particularly buying what I was selling.  "It's pretty rich to get a lecture on taking what we're given from you.  Guess it's different when the Inn makes you pretty and rich."

"Hey, she was pretty as Deirdre!"

I smiled a bit at that, and smiled at Benjamin by way of thanks before turning back to Ravi.  "Yeah, this does make it a little easier,  But so fucking what?  It's the right thing for me right now, just like staying in New York was the right thing for me a year ago.  I probably got lucky there, but if you think leaving my life behind was an easy decision, before or after Yuan-wei was part of the equation, you're out of your damn mind.  So why don't you spend some time deciding what's best for you rather than bitching about other people who have already done so?"

And then we stood there, Benjamin texting something along the lines of "Ravi's around and starting shit" to Benny.  Eventually, Ravi turned and left, saying we'd be gone tomorrow.

"Man," I said, "dude turned into a fucking creep."

Benjamin's nice, so he tried to make apologies.  "It's got to be weird to come back to a life that's not as you left it.  I mean, you can't expect everything to be the same, and the three of us did sort of leave his the biggest mess."

I grunted, saying I could use some lunch.  So we hit up an authentic Chinese restaurant, which was a little surprising to Benjamin, who still equated "Chinese" with "General Tso's Chicken", and he wasn't sure what he thought of it.  I had to admit, I had found myself with a bit more of a taste for it after spending a week in Hong Kong.

I wish I could say we put all that behind us and had fun for the rest of our stay, but both of us were kind of seeing Ravi out of the corner of our eyes for the rest of the day, so we opted to stay in for the evening and then took the train "home" to Boston fairly early on Labor Day.  And I guess I am going to have to think of this city and Hong Kong as home now - there just doesn't seem to be as much of a place for me in New York any more.

-Yuan-wei/Missy/Jordan

Tori: Love Connections

As we were heading out to the wedding, Cliff and I took a long moment to look at each other.

Suited up, he was a handsome, clean-cut, dashing figure, with a cutely angular face, casually messy short-cropped hair, and pretty, piercing eyes. The fact that that body was once mine made me feel very uneasy about it. Way, way back when I was newly Torified, I had been sufficiently charmed by Willy that I almost let him take me to a place I probably wasn't ready to go. Now, I have experience,  restraint, perspective... I know what to do when I find a guy attractive.

Nothing.

In this case, anyway. I admired his looks, but I can only forget "that was me" for so long before it hits me like a cold splash of water, and then suddenly it becomes gross. I didn't bring him here for that, and I kind of smiled to myself as I realized that he was going to be able to go home with any woman he wanted.

I can only speculate whether the same thought was going through his mind as he let his eyes linger on my body. I can't blame him: I made it my business to look stunning. I don't get many chances to go all-out anymore, and I wanted to send a strong message to every single guy at the wedding. I was wearing a black strapless party dress, which made me look fearless (which you have to be to go dancing in a strapless dress and heels!) as it clung to my body at every curve of my hips, butt and boobs... the girls were looking particularly perfect, shaped into perky teardrops by a lacy bra which one lucky guy might be able to unwrap for himself at the end of the night, along with the matching thong. Add to that a just a subtle amount of mascara to give me an available but mysterious look, and I was playing for keeps.

(This blog has been so beset by fearful new-girls for so long, it's nice to be the one who still really loves it!)

The wedding wasn't too long, but the church wasn't air conditioned and I could see Cliff sweating. I looked down at my attire (I wasn't exactly perspiration-free but I was feeling fine) and thought that's one true benefit of ladies' formal wear.

The night was long. When they tossed the bouquet, I stood in the back and pretended to lunge for it, but didn't because I didn't a) want to make a fool of myself and b) want my dress to wind up on the floor. In order to get the happy couple to kiss, we had to tell stories from their childhoods. Cliff actually told me something about Jenn that I should have known as Tori, about getting her ready for her first "date" in high school, and how we had to figure out how to do her makeup on AskJeeves (remember that?) Raine, who was in the bridal party and hadn't spoken to me yet, came over to me laughing her ass off.

Cliff and I danced for a bit. I scoped out guys around the room, and he assured me that being seen dancing with him - only for him to leave me alone - would stoke interest in me. It worked, and I danced with a few other guys, to varying degrees of closeness.

"What about you, Hotshot?" I asked between dances, "Got your eye on any particular girl tonight?"

"That's really not what I came here for," he said, "I'm just happy I get to see one of my best friends get married... especially since I missed my own wedding."

He started getting glum, and he drank a bit, and then I lost track of him. It was 1 AM when I was leaving the place with a handsome hipster guy with a side-shaved haircut, and I texted him to see if he'd be all right taking a cab back to my place alone. He answered that he already was.

I stared at my phone. It was fairly early for him to have come home. I hoped he wasn't feeling bad after that comment, and considered coming after him, but... well, I texted, "Are you OK?" He answered that he was, and... I swear, I'm normally a more caring friend than this, but there was no reason to let it ruin both of our nights.

Cute Hipster was good, and I'll admit I will never get tired of that moment where a man lays eyes on my naked body (and seeing its effect in real time, if the gentleman is already naked, as was the case here... mmm!) but my mind was distracted and I let him rush through the proceedings just to get it over with. I left, promising half-genuinely to text him later.

I gathered my clothes and called a cab, which deposited me at home around 3:15 AM.

And when I opened the door to my apartment, what did I see but Raine bent over my couch, with Cliff standing firmly behind her.

I let out an instinctive: "OH GOD! WHAT THE...?!" before covering my eyes.

"Tori!" they both cried out simultaneously as the scrambled apart. Raine covered herself with a throw blanket, and Cliff found his boxers in a hurry.

All three of us looked embarrassed. I was working my way to "What the hell is happening here?" but I decided it was pretty much self-explanatory. I shook off my shaken nerves and decided to just go right to bed and leave them to pick up where they were interrupted.

In the morning - after a very rocky night of attempted sleep - Raine had left, and Cliff was lying on the couch asleep. She had texted me to say she was sorry for hooking up with my guest, and I told her she had nothing to apologize for. I decided to be a good hostess and make some bacon and eggs. I waited until we were ready to eat before I asked him: "What the hell were you thinking?"

He looked halfway ashamed but defensive. "She... I... I don't know. We hit it off, I guess."

We laughed: "Of course you hit it off," I punched him in the arm, "You've known her since she was 12! Damn, Sara, hasn't she been through enough?"

Cliff recoiled a bit at the sound of his real name. "I swear this wasn't my plan. I mean, the part about maybe meeting someone... sure. I had some hopes. I just really didn't expect it to be her. But you know how weddings are."

Thinking of Cute Hipster, I sighed, "Yeah, I know. But I feel like there's a line. Danny... or whatever his name was... jerked her around for years, in different bodies, and it really messed with her."

"Well, I'm not leaving this body," he huffed. "I am as close as I can possibly be to what she thinks I am, just a regular guy, and if she likes me, she likes me. Let her make her own decisions."

"How can it be her decision if she can't know the full truth about you?" I ran my fingers through my hair, "I can't believe we're having this conversation. Some things should just be off-limits."

We sat quietly for a bit, then he asked standoffishly, "Why are you so against this? Are you jealous?"

I scoffed. "Of her? Being with you? Please."

"What about that whole thing you said about people like us having to stay with our own kind?"

"Don't twist that around. I don't want that to be true. Trust me, that's not a door I'd want to open at this point in my life. I don't want you thinking I asked you here for that."

"Good," he said coldly.


"I just don't want my friend to get hurt."

"Well," Cliff replied, "She's my friend too."

"Sure," I said, "But she doesn't know that."

"I'm not going to hurt her," he insisted. "Look, it's been a strange few years for me. I've changed so much. The love of my life left me because he didn't like being a woman. I got over it. I can move on. I just wanted a connection, with someone I knew I would like, and to see if she would like me too. I'm sorry I have needs, Tori. Sorry I'm human."

"Don't you feel bad for lying to her?"

She answered: "If it was some other girl, would that make it better?"

"That's the question, isn't it?" I said into my eggs. "I've lied to every guy I've been with and I never thought twice about it. And it still went badly. Fine, you have my blessing, but I'm not thrilled, so don't fuck it up."

"I didn't need your blessing, but thanks," he smirked. "Besides, I really didn't mean for it to be her. But that's how it worked out."

"Sure, keep telling yourself that," I teased. "Okay, so... now I'm dying to know. How was it?"

He smiled and tried to play things down. "It was good. A little naughtier than usual given my little secret but... now I just feel like an ass for saying that, after what you said."

"I'll let you have that," I snickered. "Did you know that's the second time I've walked in on you having sex?"
He laughed thoughtfully, "Huh, I forgot about that. Wow, Tor, you're such a creeper."

I got up and hugged him, gave him a little kiss on the cheek and told him it was good to have him as a friend. He agreed, and then we spent the rest of his visit taking walks around the old neighborhood, each of us wondering what our next steps should be.

In my case, it was to text Cute Hipster boy (Mike.) You can't keep a good woman down.

Tori: Keeping "Inn" touch (you may groan now)

Back in July, I invited Cliff down to Philly for the wedding of our friend Jen. I didn't want to go alone and felt that, if he was up for it, he might enjoy the opportunity to see his old friends. Unsecretly, there's a bit of selfishness to wanting to check in on my original body.

That said, having Cliff around was actually quite weird. I didn't realize how far into my life as Tori I was until I sat down with him and started hashing things out. He drove down on Friday and picked me up from work, making some of the office gals wonder who was this tall, dark stranger I had somehow neglected to mention. I blushed at my old body being referred to in such terms: I never thought of myself as an attractive man (I certainly never had many women say so.) And it's not even really my body to be proud of anymore: I lost it six years ago, and declined an opportunity to take it back.

But hey, a compliment is a compliment. And Sara wears that old body of mine very well.

Over dinner, we started to talk about things I hadn't thought of in years: I reflected on how much it had meant to me, in my early days as Tori, to have Sara and Raine as friends, seemingly accepting me, never able to pick out that I wasn't one of them. It made me feel reassured that, if I could "pass" to Tori's friends, then I could stop thinking of myself as a man in a woman's body and just think of myself as a woman.

"I felt so dumb afterward," he said somewhat jokingly, "They say it's the magic of the Inn, but maybe it's just self-absorption. Like I had no idea what was going on with you because I was so busy with my own life, so I never caught on. But looking back it was so obvious."

"Yeah, my sister says the same thing," I said.

"Oh my God, does she know?"

"No, but... I almost feel like she might figure it out someday. She's sharp, and I don't think I'd lie if she asked. But she won't, because... how could you, right?"

"When did you get used to it? Being a woman?"

"Sooner than I wanted to admit," I sighed, "It just suited me better than being a man ever did. But for the first year, it was just keep from tearing your hair out long enough to get home. Then after that didn't happen... I was shocked, but I came around quickly to, I can make this work and finally, this is better in some ways than what I left behind. I was like a new person from day one, but it took me a long time to learn what that really meant."

"Is Raine going to be at the wedding?"

"Of course," I said, "I haven't talked to her much lately. We try to keep up on social media, but people go their separate ways. I felt bad for her, because she was dating this guy who was... well, one of us, for a long time, and she had no idea."

"What happened there?"

"Um, I don't know," I said, trying to search my memory for our last conversation on the topic: she was vague, probably because she didn't know the full story. "Sometimes I think it's hard for people like us to be with people who haven't... been through it."

"I hope that's not true," he sighed. "I don't want my dating pool to be so limited." I shrugged: I've had my fair share of experiences, but clearly nothing's panned out. Looked like he had the same issue.

"Well, you could probably date any of the women in my office," I said, "You should have heard them coo when you picked me up. Half of them are married, though."

He smirked. "I do okay."

"Part of me wants details," I said, putting on as devilish a smile as I could, "Part of me wants you to keep quiet, because that wasn't my experience when I was in your shoes."

"The details would bore you," he said self-effacingly, "It's not like I was, oh, doing any 3-ways or anything."

I felt my face get hot. Of course, I was spilling the beans about it on the blog while it was happening, so it's not like I had any reason to be shocked or embarrassed or ashamed... but I couldn't help but feel a little bit of judgment in his voice. I called him on it, and he corrected himself, "Hey, you can do what you want with your life. I admire your spirit. You're an adventurous person, and I love that about you. The real T-- old Tori, sorry, would be proud."

"Old Tori." Huh. Wonder how long since I thought of her. They gave her a morning show down in Louisville, but it didn't work out, and last I heard she was kicking around Indiana or Illinois or something. I used to wonder a lot whether I should have given her her body back and taken a chance somewhere new, but I wasn't in any place to start over and she seemed to be having fun.

As I got reflective, Cliff hung his head: compared to me, he's even more in the dark. The people who stole his and Thom's bodies ran away to Delaware together, probably for nefarious purposes. Thom left him the next year, for parts unknown. (Literally, we don't know whose parts he now has!) Willy, who left my old body, disappeared to England with Randi (is she still with him? From what we can tell, Thom did not take care to relinquish her body back.) I told Cliff he could join "our" community, but he felt he had nothing to say. Then I started thinking about more people who've come and gone over the years.

I have derived so much love and support from the readers of this blog, and those who have been able to see their way to adding to it after an experience at the Inn, that anytime I feel like I might have outgrown it, I feel myself pulled back here. But you should know I am around. And do you see that e-mail address on the right hand side of the blog? (It used to be a different one, but I used my Admin access to change it.) I'm on the other side of it. And through it, I've found several more people with some Inn stories, who will be granting me permission to share some of their experiences. Anyone out there who tried to get ahold of us at our old address but couldn't, now is your chance.

More to come...