Simon/Joy: Shoe on the Other Foot

I try to power through all the crap having stayed at the Inn brings, because no good comes of letting your opponent see a weakness, even if that opponent is cancer or whatever cursed the Trading Post Inn, but I've got to admit, the last few months have given me a few setbacks. 

I didn't wine up going back to the office after storming out of there at the start of March.  I wanted to, but another lesson you learn working in sales is that sometimes you have to be ready and willing to not just look like you're going to walk away from a bad deal, but actually do it.  I hate it - it usually means you've misjudged something - but none of the guys from the office made even the slightest token motion of support by the time I was dressed and ready to head to my car.  I don't consider myself any kind of feminist, but folks who aren't even going to talk to you privately when you've been attacked?  Fuck 'em!

(And, yeah, I have spent some time racking my brain trying to think if that includes me. I feel like I've never been in the situation, but Treena thinks I have and it just didn't make enough of an impression on me.)

It was an effort to find new work after that, because my/Joy's one set of references in the real estate business now said I was "difficult" and ended with the story of me kneeing a potential buyer in the groin.  That does not look goods on your résumé, even if some of the women who inhabited me looked a bit encodes at points.  Eventually, you wind up lowering your expectations which is why I went from dealing with successful people looking to buy and sell houses to helping folks looking for new apartments. 

It's not a bad job for someone who isn't exactly planning on staying in this life forever.  The dress code is a little more casual, and while the hours can be longer, as far potential clients can duck out of work and so want to see places early, late, or on the weekend, things tend to get done with a minimum of haggling.  The commissions are lower, but it's easier work; sometimes the job seems like it's just a matter of them trusting me with keys.

And it gave me a big leg up when looking for a new place when Treena informed me I was moving. 

Even though it's kind of a miracle that we lasted this long - there is a lot we don't see eye to eye on - the way she did it was a real power move.  She intimated that it was about her boyfriend being ready to move in, but they've only been together a couple months.

"Fine," she says, "I'll skip the nice version - I just realized that I've had you as my roommate for almost as long as the real Joy, and ever since you've been getting cozy with Iain, the two of you have started running together in my head and I don't like it.  Then I thought, okay, it's only until he goes back to the Inn, but then I realized that meant that you'd be replaced by some other not-Joy who could be an even bigger pain or, worse, dangerous.  A girl's got to protect herself."

We had a little "I see you've made your mind up" exchange, and while I'm annoyed, because who likes moving, Treena is hardly the first woman to call me an asshole to my face or anything.  If she doesn't want me around, fine.  I've got a database full of nice-looking studios to look through, and I'm not going to have to pay an extra month as to the agency.  I can deal with it. 

Now, does she have the same attitude when I set up tables for a yard sale on Memorial Day weekend, after having put some of Joy's stuff up on Craigslist?  Nope, then it's "how can you get rid of that, it was so important to her!" and "we always shared this!"  Like, do you want me to be Joy or not?

I didn't get rid of that much in the purge, but it was enough to make the move a little easier.  I found a real hidden gem down near the beach (no ocean view, but you can almost smell the salt air), and I've got to admit - even if a lot of the contents of this new spot were once Joy's things, it does feel more like my place, both because I'm not sharing it and because I put everything where I thought it belonged.  Yeah, I felt like I'd played myself a few days ago when I woke up with red spots on my panties and nobody to borrow tampons from, but I actually felt a little better after that, too.  I may not be Joy for much longer, but I don't need training wheels as a girl anymore, either. 

-Simon/Joy

Simon/Joy: Done with All This

Maybe today would have gone different if I hadn't been so distracted by what's going on elsewhere.  Treena says that doesn't matter, and I shouldn't blame myself, and that I did what I had to in both cases, even if my male mind is going to second-guess part of it, saying I'm letting hormones make me overreact.  Which is nice of her to say, even if it's not practical.

It started a couple of days ago, when I got a phone call from Brian.  Things had taken a bad turn, he said.  The chemotherapy and radiation which had seemed to be working had suddenly become ineffective, and as a result, the cancer had completely consumed one of his/my testicles, and it would have to be removed.  On top of that, there were indications that it may have metastasized, so even after the operation, we might not be out of the woods.

Hearing that about someone you know is never easy, and hearing it from the person who assumed your life because of a cursed hotel is a punch in the gut outsiders really can't imagine.  But try, and then imagine that you picked up the phone while in your bra and panties, doing your makeup for a night out with a couple of your best girlfriends.

Your immediate first reaction is that it's your fault, and not because something in your diet or lifestyle or something you'd exposed your body to before the Trading Post Inn took a snapshot of its exact state to apply to the next guy had created the cancer and it just hasn't become noticeable until after the changes.  No, the fact that I've kind of enjoyed being a pretty young girl, taken advantage of what it gave me, to the point where a moment ago I had been wondering if the high heels I was pairing with my dress were sparkly enough, that set something adrift in the universe that attacked my true form's masculinity in response.  It makes a stupid amount of sense, especially if you've got a roommate who talks a lot about karma and energy and connectedness.  Like, you know there's magic in the world (or, as one guy I know suggests, aliens conducting a long-running social experiment), and maybe that's the sort of thing that actually affects it.  Sure, it hasn't really worked that way for anyone else, but who knows?

I text the girls that I can't make it and spend a couple hours talking to Brian.  It's not a great conversation, but, hey, he needs it and I suddenly feel like getting into some sweatpants and watching sports anyway.  I have my first night where is really hard to sleep afterward, but I get through a day of work feeling kind of grateful that I can do this whole Brian goes through the hard stuff.

Today is basically going the same way until I had out to the suburbs for a showing.  It's one of the best listings I've got, and the guy I'm showing the house to is some sort of tech millionaire.  I'm feeling really good about it, thinking about what I can get with the commission, pointing out the large walk-in closet in one of the bedrooms, asking if there's a Mrs. Tech Millionaire who might appreciate it.  Maybe I'm being kind of flirty - I sort of turn it on by instinct if I think someone might be partial to petite blonde girls by now - but even if I am, it seems like he's mostly showing interest in the property.  Or at least, it seems that way until I realize I've wound up in the corner of this windowless space with a decent-sized guy between me and the door, with one hand on the wall next to my head.

I don't think there's a lot of intent to it; I've done stuff like that in my real life and tend to think of it as saying "hey, stick around" if it's saying anything, and girls who see an "or else" are just reading too much into it 99% of the time.  So I'm not really thinking of "escape" as I slide along the wall in the other direction, just that I've got a fair amount more house to show him.  He moves the same direction, puts his other hand on the other side of my head, and asks if I could fill this space.  I say I'm not the one shopping around today and duck underneath his arm, getting out of that closet and into a more open area.  I'm starting down a couple of steps toward a recessed hot tub when I'm bumped from behind and I have to do that thing where you make really quick, small steps to get down the steps in your heels without really falling.  I turned around at the bottom and asked if he was okay, because that's what you do.  He smiled, said he was sorry, and then indicated the basin with his eyes and asked if I brought a bathing suit (there was a trap over it, but you could faintly smell chlorine indicating it was filled).

Even if you're a guy inside and out, that's going to set off alarm bells (and not necessarily just omg gay! ones), so I back off, still trying to be friendly but also like, whoa, not the time or place.  But somehow I'm up against another wall, and he's real close.  His hand reaches out and for a moment I think it's going to wind up around my neck, but instead he sort of nestles my chin between his thumb and forefinger, then tips my head back before starting to lean in for a kiss.

I knee him in the groin.

The ladies-who-have-always-been-ladies probably don't understand how freaked out I have to be for that; even when a man finds someone taking it in the junk funny, he winces, and we just wouldn't consider doing it to one another, even inn a nasty fight.  We know how much that hurts.  I'm actually kind of horrified when I see him let me go and then stagger backward.  But I'm also really angry, wondering how much letting little things slide had led to this, so I do it again, this time really connecting because I'm not back against the wall and can aim that skinny kneecap.  If I'm not going to have a full complement of testes, no need for this asshole to have one.

I've got my fist clenched, the image of a  uppercut sending him flopping into the hot tub very clear in my head, but he holds his hand up and backs off, all the way to the driveway.  Once I've heard him drive off, I sink down into the nearest couch, and just shake for a while.  Then I go to the nearest bathroom and look in the mirror, kind of surprised at what I see.  It was over so fast that my hair wasn't mussed and my makeup didn't really need any touching up - there was a bit of a smudge on one cheek, but I hadn't cried, so nothing was running.  It was almost like it didn't happen.

I almost convince myself it didn't on the road back to the office, but the looks on every face there tell a different story.  I'm called into the same office as before Christmas, only this time, instead of staring at me coolly from behind the desk, he's pacing behind the chair where I sit as he asks what the fuck is wrong with me.

"I--  I'm sorry.  I didn't feel safe, so I just reacted."

"Oh, you didn't feel safe!"  He leaned in, mauve trying to see if I'd covered some injury with concealer or something.  "You certainly don't look like you've been through any sort of wringer."

"Yeah, because I acted before it could get that far!  Son of a bitch had his hands on my face; should I have waited until they were on my tits or in my panties?"

"There's no call for that sort of language, missy!"

"Are you shitting me?  Folks use that language in this office all the time, about those same tits and panties.  I don't mind like some chicks do - I can take it as the compliment it's intended to be - but that asshole crossed a line I told myself I wouldn't let anyone cross.  And if you're going to blame me for that..."

I got up, walked out, and started cleaning out my desk.  Loudly.  You might think that in sunny liberal #MeToo California, someone might have interceded on my behalf, but nope.  They just let me walk out to my car.  I think I overheard a comment about how I was just being emotional, but I'd be back Monday.

And maybe I will.  I've got to admit, this doesn't really feel like me, and maybe when I've got a little less adrenaline and female hormones running through my body later, I'll be able to sit back, think about how this is just what a woman has to do if she wants to play in men's worlds.  Tonight, though, I'll be going with booze.

-Simon/Joy

Simon/Joy: Ex Marks the Spot

The guys at the office haven't quite been the same for the last couple of weeks, since just a few moments of not being the fun girl who plays along with your jokes about boob size and doesn't act like making less money for the same work is no big deal is enough to shift the way people treat her.  It also got out that I knew about the whole bet about who could get me in bed first, and given how the climate for that has changed just in the last few months, everybody is treating me like a live hand grenade.  It's kind of sucks, both because I'm not that kind of woman (and even if I were inclined to be, I wouldn't want that reputation following me to another job) and because it's getting me shut out, not just in terms of being sociable with my co-workers but in that they seem to go out of their way to not help me in the office, even in places where there's no competition.  It's dumb to sideline me, because I'm a damn good salesman no matter how I'm shaped, but guys will do dumb things where women are concerned.

One of the things that makes me pretty good at this stuff is that I have a pretty good memory for names, faces, and other details, and whatever changes the Inn made to my brain to make me interested in having sex with guys, it didn't affect that.  So, when I arrived home tonight and saw a guy at the building's from door, seeming to take a step toward the intercom and back off about a dozen times, I didn't do the comedy bit where I didn't recognize someone from the original Joy's life, ignored him, and then had to improvise an excuse later.  I'd seen this guy on Joy's phone, her social media, etc., and knew he must have come looking for her.  So I just went for it, walking up and asking him what he was doing here.

He turned around, flustered but recovering quick.  "Lookin' for ye, obviously!  My God, ye look incredible!"

I could do with some of that.  I walked up with my arms outstretched for a hug, but he instead took my hands in his and gently seeing them down between us so that we were looking each other in the face.  It was excited than it sounded, and gave me a moment to examine this Iain Mackinnon - Joy's boyfriend when she checked into the Inn - up close and personal.

He's cute - not super-tall (I was almost eye-level with him, although I admittedly had four-inch heels on) or super-cut, but solid.  There's a hint of auburn to his brown hair, which also takes the form of a beard that's very well-maintained, a precise 3/4" at every spot.  Nice hazel eyes, sexy Scottish accent, dressed in the tech-guy outfit of flannel-patterned shirt and khakis,  except obviously very nice ones.  He smells kind of nice, too, a subtly sporty cologne.  Maybe a little more millennial-hipster than what I would have called a really impressive man in another life, but I'm starting to think that maybe a guy being a little less obviously alpha isn't so bad.

I take all that in and ask if he wants to come in.  He says yes, and I kind of make sure I swing my butt a little as he's a few steps behind me.  It's been a few weeks for me and both Joy's diaries and what Shayla has said about how she's talked about guys in the past seems to indicate he was a heck of a lover.  I unlock the door, and we're chatting about my messed-up car as he enters and Treena just freezes while emptying the dishwasher.  I smile kind of big - it's almost a reflex when Treena and I have to out on a show for a third party - and say "look what I found downstairs!"

"Wow, this is a surprise!  It's good to see you, Iain!"

(I mentally file away that it's pronounced "ee-un".)

"And ye as well, Treens!  Still puttin' up with this one?"

"I am, and she does not make it easy sometimes.  In fact, if I could just steal her a moment..."

She doesn't wait for a response, dragging me into her bedroom.  "What the fuck are you doing?"

"Nothing!  I saw him downstairs, recognized him from about a million pictures on Facebook, and figured it would be better to say hi than act like we'd never met."

She stared hard at me at me, deciding I wasn't trying to spin it.  "I suppose that makes as much sense as anything.  It's just--  He really loved Joy, okay?  They should have been married by now, and if you try to take advantage of that and hurt him..."

"Jeez, threat understood!  Calm down!"

I turn around and walk back out into the kitchenette, asking if he'd like something to drink.  He points at the espresso machine, saying he's still jet-lagged, so I start that up.

"So...  Just here for a visit, then."

"Aye.  Google's talking about buying out a company the family's invested in, so I came out to talk terms because my Dad's all not doing that well and the tech stuff isnae really his forte.  So I'm in San Francisco, and I figure, it's only a short hop down here, might as well see what Joy's up te."  He did an exaggerated little pause.  "So, what are ye up te?"

"Oh, you know, getting my real estate license, connecting folks with little pieces of California heaven."

"Seeing anyone?"

"Not really, kind of..."  I'm going to say playing the field but Treena shoots me a look, and I try to think of something close to the truth.  Joy may not have kept in touch with Treena before she died with everyone thinking she was Brian Meeks, but she did try to keep things going with Iain as long as she could via text and email.  But while letter-writing used to be visited pretty romantic, it's not nearly enough to sustain something long-distance the days, and she broke it off not long before the end.  "Kind of harder to start again than I thought."

"You managed to find someone, though, right?"  Treena interjected.

"Thought so, but...  Well, she ditched me just before this trip.  Just like ye, she felt I was spending too much time on the business, not enough time with her.  Can't say I blame her."

"That's...  I'm sorry to hear that."  I meant it; he seemed like a nice enough guy, and while I can't say I've ever been so rich that a girl who noticed me because of that success started to get annoyed at the work it took to maintain it, I could relate on a smaller scale.

"Well, it's gotten me thinking about what to do different in the New Year, but in the meantime, it kind of leaves me going to this Christmas party on Saturday stag, and I was wondering..."  He eyed me expectantly.

"Oh, I don't know...  I mean, sure, I'm always up for a good party, but--"  I couldn't think of a real reason aside from Treena murdering me, but that seemed like enough.

"Don't worry, it's mostly a work thing.  Just, y'know, figured I'd be nice to spend time with you rather than spend time talking about who's not there."

"Well, sure, if that's all it is..."

"Great!  I'll email you all the details."  An alarm on his Android watch went off, and he made his apologies.  "I really was just flying down here between meetings, I'm afraid.  But don't worry, when you get to London on Saturday, you'll have my complete attention!"  And then he was out the door.

That last bit, as you might imagine, had me and Treena in a bit of stunned silence before Treena told me I couldn't do this.  But, c'mon, this guy's obviously kind of down (despite his cheery demeanor) and looking for a boost from his ex Joy, and right now, I'm the only Joy there is.  And let's not forget that I've had kind of a rough go of it lately - getting away from it all with what everyone assures me is a pretty good guy isn't bad for me, either.

Now, to make sure Joy's passport hadn't expired...

Simon/Joy: Holiday Cards

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Joy, are you happy here?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-Simon/Joy

Treena: The Importance of a Shoe

When I heard that Simon wasn't going back to his natural body, I had a selfish response... Joy was my friend, and losing her hurt, and that pain was compounded by seeing this other person wearing her face - this person whose personality is about as far from the Joy I knew as I could imagine.

We still live together because it made sense for him not to go out and find a new place if he was only here for a year. My hope was that the next Joy would be somebody I could get along with better. I don't feel like Simon enjoyed it either, especially as he grew more accustomed to femininity and didn't need my advice or help - seems like all I do for him is judge the way he is representing my friend, and maybe occasionally how many partners he has had since becoming sexually active - I don't mean to, but I can't help but notice.

One of the things that has made life in the house between me and Simon difficult is that I keep odd hours - he has to be up during the day and I'm more of a creature of the night. Mostly it's no problem since once he's left for work he doesn't return until dinner (if at all - he was going out a lot for a while, as you might guess) and by then I'm up. But in the morning, if he doesn't make a quick, quiet exit, it can be irksome.

So this morning, when he was seemingly making an effort to bang every closet door and stomp around as angrily as possible, while muttering curses at full volume. (Shit! Fucker! Where the fuck are you?) you can imagine my displeasure.

(You'll notice I'm referring to him by his former name and gender identity... I know the world sees him as Joy, a "she," and it's not like he bristles as that, but he's never told me he's self-adopting the female pronouns, so I'm respecting that until told otherwise... likewise, I have a hard time calling him "Joy" because that was the name of someone I knew and cared about and although she still appears to be alive, she is not, and, well... that hurts.)

I went downstairs, dressed in my PJ's (a ratty old tee I got at SDCC years ago and some shorts) somewhat intending to chew him out, but I guess my sympathy got the better of me so I just asked "What's happening?"

He glared at me with irritation out of the corner of his eye. He was dressed smartly, in a light blue skirt suit (a short one showing off his legs, of course,) but his hair was ratty. His eyes looked puffy, like he was on the brink of tears.

"What's happening is... I can't find my shoes. Fuck, fuck, I wanted to wear these heels today but I can only find one and it's driving me crazy. Fuck!"

I didn't say any of the thoughts that came into my head -- that he could probably just pick another pair of shoes (maybe he's anal about his outfits, or maybe they're just the most comfortable, who knows, I wear Converse.) Or that he wouldn't be having this problem if he was more careful about wear he puts his things (an ongoing issue between us.) Instead, I just quietly helped him look - behind doors, under cushions and furniture... all while he snapped at me, "Don't you think I already looked there? God!"

"Okay, fine," I hissed back, "Just trying to help."

"I still have to finish my make-up and do my hair... goddamnit, you know this doesn't just happen" - he gestured to his face and hair, indicating his appearance. "I never had to put up with this shit as a man. Fuck!!"

Now, it's not like Simon has never ever thrown a tantrum, but I could tell the timing of this one meant it was probably starting to hit him just what being stuck like this was going to mean. To him, being like me -- setting your own hours and wearing pajamas to work (at home) wasn't going to be an option. Even dressing for comfort as a woman seems a bit alien to him. No, Simon has made it clear that if he's got to be a woman he's going to dress to impress and flaunt what he's got, and he takes it as seriously as any woman I've ever seen.

So my guess is, the news that he was to be spending another year this way equates to another year of stressing about appearances and fashion in a way that, although he's grown very practiced, isn't always the most natural and easy way to do things. He's basically torn between two worlds.

I told him to go do his make-up and hair, whatever he needed, and I would continue to look for the shoe, and reluctantly he did. It turned out to be in the kitchen, under the table - I have no idea how it got there or where that was in relation to the other, but it doesn't matter. I brought it to him, where he was wrapping his hair around a pink curling iron, tears freshly dabbed away from his cheeks.

"Thanks," he said, as if nothing had happened, "I owe ya."

I turned to go, but stopped. "Hey... are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm, uh... I'm fine." he stated uncertainly. For a moment it seemed like he was going to say more, but then he turned back to the mirror to finish his hair, then smoothed out the creases in his blouse, and cleared his throat to regain his poise.

"Anyway, I've got to run. Got a showing at 9. Ciao." And left as if nothing was wrong. It was very Stepford.

It's hard to tell what's going on in that pretty blonde head ever since he was essentially told he would not be getting his natural body back this year, although today gave some new insights. I know he's okay with a lot of facets of being female - and has certainly made it work for him - but I think he still regards it as being lesser, and that not getting a chance to go back has shaken him in a way he's not comfortable expressing. I hope he realizes I'm here if he needs him.

Simon/Joy: My body, my choices right?

I wasn't all that surprised that Treena didn't approve of my little sexual activites the other week. Maybe she thought that by gifting me my first vibrator (not that I have a second one yet) I wouldn't feel any need to try the real thing, and honestly I was surprised at how into it I was, but... like, all the sexual focus I used to put on women had to go somewhere and it turns out men do the trick in a pinch. I see things differently now. But I'm still thinking I can go back when I'm good and ready.

She seems to think I should be happy keeping to myself but I'm not like her, I'm social, I need to be around other people, need to be liked and fawned over, especially now that it's so easy to get attention. I get bored easily and you can't focus on work 100% of the time. I'm frickin' horny!

So I've gone home with three other guys since my first one. The results were mixed... there was a shocking amount of variety in their styles and abilities. One guy wanted to do it from behind but I was afraid he was gonna use that as an opportunity to put it in my @$$ so I didn't let him... so it's only actually been two guys. One didn't last long, the other went twice. Oh, and then I invited the neighbor's pool guy in for a drink one day this week when I was home between appointments, and we ended up screwing so it actually is four. He was probably the best.

Maybe I should be pickier but I'm still figuring out what I like. You could say I'm easy but I do try to make them work for it. That's why the number is so low. Except when I'm just too horny (thus, the pool guy. But he was very muscular, tan and confident, so he was "in my league.")

So yeah, Treena's response: she was basically trying to accuse me of being a slut without using that word, because supposedly she's all sex-positive. But when she sees a gal like me really taking advantage of her options, suddenly she disapproves. Not that I've never seen her have casual sex, in fact she's been with more guys than I have since I've gotten here... can you blame me for wanting to catch up?

Maybe she thinks I'm giving Joy a bad name, but the last time I checked, I'm the only "Joy" here anymore. The next one can clean up my mess, if need be, but I'm not hurting anyone. If she's got hang-ups, well, that's her problem.

Just having my fun. Honestly, these guys are just falling over themselves to get me to call back. Love it. Such a turn on.
-Simon/Joy

Simon/Joy: Black Friday

After my little moment with Joey at Halloween we went back to our old texting routine. It was actually a little annoying, since I would be at work showing some couple a house and I would feel my phone buzz in my purse and I would have to resist the urge to answer it. It alternates between annoying and kind of sweet, depending on how I was feeling. Part of me really likes how much this guy is into me. I've had my share of success with women, but I've never been pursued as much as this... usually I'm on Joey's side of things, desperately trying to get a chick's attention. This is so much easier... except when it's not.

So I've had to put him off and reschedule all month because hey, there's not really a slow time in this biz if you know how to hustle. And I feel like it kind of hurt his feelings. But I had some spare time over the Thanksgiving weekend... I opted not to go to Iowa and stay with Joy's parents. (They were understanding, but also clearly disappointed since it's now been about two years since they've seen their daughter in the flesh.) So I made a dinner date with Joey for Black Friday.

All week long my stomach was in knots. I couldn't believe how wrapped up in this I was getting. I was more stressed than ever about my hair, my makeup, my style... I am used to making myself look "pretty" for work, but that's more of a "presentable." thing. For this night I wanted to look hot. Like, totally fuckable. Not that that was where I necessarily saw the night going, but I wanted to get his hopes up and see how he reacted. I had just the right Little Black Dress in Joy's closet that I had been saving, I guess secretly knowing that this kind of occasion would come up eventually for me. I tried it on and... vavavoom. I'm used to seeing myself in buttoned-down pantsuits and blouses - cute and professional but not model-quality. With this, and a strapless pushup bra, I looked like I had some real killer curves. Then I went to Sephora to get my makeup and hair done.

When I got home from that, about an hour before the date, Treena was waiting for me. It looked like she had been crying. This was new. Treena isn't exactly a robot or anything but I've never seen her break down in tears. She was really trying hard to keep it together. So I went cautiously forward asking what was wrong and if there was anything I could do.

"Hey Simon... uh, can you sit down for a sec?"

"Sure, no problem."

I had this nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach that this somehow concerned me.

"I have some bad news. Like, really bad news. And I don't know how you're going to react but I'm... this isn't good, Simon. So just pardon me if I can't... quite get the words out." She sniffled.

"Okay, you're scaring me." I hadn't felt this severe since the day I woke up as Joy... and even then I had enough composure to go to the conference and woo Abe Fowler.

Treena looked at me like she'd seen a ghost. "She's... gone, Simon."

"Who's gone?" I asked, barely in a whisper... kind of already knowing but afraid to be sure.

"Joy's gone. She's... I'm pretty sure she's dead."

My face went cold. Treena showed me the screen of her laptop and it showed some local paper out in Nowheresville, New England, an obituary for "Brian Meeks," born September 10 1948, died April 12, 2016. Just over a month before she was due to return to the Inn. No wonder my cheapass company got that room at the Trading Post on such short notice.

It said "he" died peacefully in his sleep of a heart attack, discovered in the morning by his wife of 35 years. What a horrifying thought. It dawned on me later that she had gone through all this grieving and her husband is actually still out there somewhere. But at the time my head was just swimming.

She's dead. Treena is 110% sure of that fact: Joy was Brian Meeks. There's no ifs, ands or buts about it.

I tried to put it out of my mind. She's gone, but I'm still here. I never met her, and I've been living this life as I please the entire time. It shouldn't affect me. But if I catch a glimpse of my reflection, it feels like the words "DEAD GIRL" are tattooed across my face.

It was hard to enjoy dinner with this sitting on my shoulders (I couldn't very well bring myself to cancel again.) I was lost in thought, not very good company for Joey. I was still in my LBD but I felt totally ridiculous with my tits pushed up and my neckline plunging all the way down. And I just couldn't bring myself to care about anything he had to say... except when we talked about his work as a lifeguard, and I asked how close he's been to death (he made a few claims about saving lives that seemed exaggerated, and then I had to downplay my sudden interest in the subject.) When the date ended I had to politely decline an invite back to his place. I was anything but "in the mood." He seemed absolutely pissed off about that, and confirmed this the next day with a long series of texts about how two-faced I was and how I was just leading him on and how girls like me never give guys like him a chance and all that bullshit. I couldn't even come up with a response.

It has been a weird week. I'm trying to think what happens next, but all I can do is just live my life day by day and not let this affect me. I'm still here.

Cheers,
-Simon

Simon/Joy: My "Secret"

It was kinda crummy of Treena to call me out like that on the blog... I mean, I know she reads it but I never thought she would write anything here. I think she's blowing it out of proportion, I just needed a little privacy for a minute. I didn't realize that would be such a big issue with her. I guess because, yeah, as she said, normally I'm pretty open about everything, including electronically diddling myself once or twice a day.

If you must know, here's the big secret. I almost hooked up with Joey. Stressing almost. We were drunk at the club, and we needed to go out for some air, so we walked around the corner and found a nice quiet spot. Then he kind of pushed me toward the wall and started kissing me.

It was... weird. So weird. But I'd be lying if I said it was that much different from kissing a chick. It's the same parts, you know, just a little rougher and a little fuzzier. And I didn't know where to put my hands. So the fact that I didn't immediately push him away probably tells you that I'm a lot more open to this kinda thing now than I was a few months ago when we first met. Does that mean I want to sleep with him? Maybe, maybe not, I haven't decided yet. I'm going to be a chick for at least another... six months maybe? If I had to go a whole year without any sex at all, I would be really pissed about it. But whatever sex I get is going to be the "I'm a chick" kind, so I'm adjusting to that.

So we were kissing, and then I notice him loosening his belt. And before you know it, his cock is out. And it's all hard, and... pointing directly at me. And again, having a good time and being drunk and being a lot looser about what I will or won't do really comes in to play here. But I didn't know what to do next.

So he says, kinda rudely, "Suck me..." Like, half a command and half a request. Like, "Suck me...?"

I was just like, "Um..." I can't tell him I never have done anything like this, it would be hard to believe. But I didn't wanna just do as I was told because that's not what I was into. Plus I was in a short skirt and didn't want to kneel on the dirty ground.

So I grabbed his dick and started playing with it. It was weird, because in a way it feels like my own, but totally different, and the angle was reversed and whatnot. I've always found it cute when a chick doesn't know what to do with one. But I knew if I finished him off quick he would be satisfied and leave me alone.

So I worked and worked and worked, trying to be subtle in case some random person is walking by, and he was moaning like this was the best HJ ever... which I have to say it probably was for him. And before you know it, he spurts all over my hand and my jacket, and even a little bit in my hair, not even caring where it goes, and leans back against the brick wall moaning "Oh baby... that was so good."

"I'm glad you liked it..." I said kinda numbly.

We split a cab home but I was a bit shellshocked to say anything, which is why I was weird when Treena saw me. And then I spent a few days just contemplating it, being like "That happened, I did that. I didn't love doing it but I don't hate it. The world didn't end."

Things are really never gonna be the same for me. I feel like I'm capable of pretty much anything now, which is both exciting and terrifying.

Treena: A little concerned

Hey guys. Just popping in here because as you can tell Simon seems to have really skimmed over some details in his last post... Not that he isn't entitled to his privacy but you saw how much detail he gave after he started using my little "gift." The man doesn't usually filter himself, and isn't self-conscious about his behavior no matter how un-masculine it may be. That's actually a quality I sometimes admire in him, when it doesn't lead to him being obnoxious. But now I'm a little spooked. He came home from the club on Halloween looking a little bedraggled, with this faraway look in his eyes and didn't want to talk at all about it. Just went right to bed. And now the version below makes it seem like it was all fun?

I'm just concerned, and while I'm not usually interested in contributing to this blog, I felt it was relevant to raise that concern, in case he is covering up for something really bad and in case he decides he has to do so again in the future. He knows this is a safe space with no judgment so hopefully when he's ready he'll clue us in.

Simon/Joy: Little Devil

As you know, when I first got here I decided to throw myself into Joy's social life a bit. Her friends, all hot young men and women in their early 20's, are all fun people to hang around with and I really related to them. I figured they'd miss me if I ignored them and for all they knew I was who I appeared to be, so what's the harm?

I backed off from that after I started working though. Even though I love being out and active, I love working and making money more - and I find my job surprisingly exciting and fulfilling. I do get razzed around the office for supposedly being a "dumb blonde" because I'm not as good at paperwork as the other guys there, but I can take it. I'll show them. It's my first quarter and I'm neck and neck for the most commissions, so the other guys can suck the metaphorical it.

I also get teased for being a "workaholic." The guys can tell I don't have a social life because I'm always available to my clients any time of day or night. If they only knew it was because my only options were to pick up where the chick whose body I wear left off...

Halloween was kind of the first really "social" occasion I had since summer, where I would be seeing the ladies. After going to Treena's Halloween show, where they did the most bizarrely sexy rendition of the Monster Mash I ever heard or saw, I hit was scheduled to hit up a house party and a club. I was dressed in a skimpy red dress that shows off my legs (and did a little something for my minimal cleavage) with devil horns and a little prop pitchfork I could keep in my clutch. It's pretty amazing being on the coast where chicks like Joy can wear their sexiest little things for Halloween and not freeze their tits off.

At the house party, I ran into a few familiar faces... specifically Joey. I was pretty miffed to see him because I thought we had a cool thing going, but it really faded out by the time I started working. And when he saw me he just gave me a nod like "oh, it's you." Like he didn't ever text me his dick. Like that just meant nothing to him. I was so pissed I ducked him for half the night.

I also had the "pleasure" of meeting one of Joy's exes. This was an awkward thing that I have been dreading, because I don't know what any of them really think of Joy. This one was Ramon, a latin lover type, who was kind of hard to understand between his accent and the noise of the party. But I got sucked into a very one-sided conversation about "old times" and I could tell he was looking to rekindle things. And, look... Ramon appears to be a very attractive man, and maybe the booze was sort of helping things along, but something about the way he looked at me and saw, you know, her made me feel super icky. I was desperately looking for a way out of that convo when suddenly...

In swoops Joey. Suddenly he says he wants to catch up, and escorts me away, much to my relief.

And that's when something really strange started to happen.

My heart started racing a little bit. Like I was on a hot streak at the casino, or I was warming up my little friend "Mariah." I was just flooded with this pleasure chemical swimming in my body. I was so flustered and flattered at being "fought" over, particularly by a guy who had brushed me off.

He explained he thought I had brushed him off because I was rejecting his advances, and I said no, I just wasn't ready for anything at that time because I was looking for work (and plus the whole secretly-a-dude thing made me uncomfortable with how flirty we were getting.) And now work is keeping me busy, but I kind of make my own hours and...

I don't know, I just couldn't think of a really good reason not to invite him along to the club that night. It was hot and noisy and loud and he clung to me all night, we danced our asses off... I could totally feel his rod poking me as we grinded. But what should have shocked me only amused me, like, it feels so great having this power over a man.

Anyway, the night was really very fun and it kind of got me to thinking maybe I should find a way to balance my/Joy's social life and my/her career. It was just such a rush.

Oh, and it goes without saying that when I got home I had a nice, long visit with Mariah... but that's normal for most nights anyway ;)

(PS don't even talk to me about the World Series. So disappointing!!)

Simon/Joy: Frisky [nsfw...]

God help me but sometimes I just love it here. I mean, I knew there had to be some consolation for the tampons and the grooming rituals and the uncomfortable heels and the leers from old men when I come flouncing down the sidewalk in my shorts. I've found it, pretty much exactly where I expected to.

I mean, what life isn't complete without it? I loved it as a man and though it took me a while to get around to it as a woman I find the thrill tenfold more satisfying. It just goes to show that sometimes you need to work hard to get what you want.

I'm obviously talking about my big fat commission checks. My God if I knew I could make this much this quickly I would have moved here years ago.

Haha but seriously, between all that, I've found time for another real delight. A serious pleasure. And it's uh, obviously not something I'm getting paid for.

So let's talk about me, and my new best friend Mariah. That's what I named the device I got from Treena a few weeks ago. Why shouldn't she have a woman's name? I've always loved her music...

For a little while I just let it sit in the box, ignored. I wanted to pretend I didn't need it. I know the basics of pleasing a woman and it should be doubly easy if that woman is me. But my efforts so far have just taken too much time to feel worthwhile. I just didn't happen to want to put in the effort yet, since there's been lots on my mind. But if I thought I would NEVER try it out, I must have been kidding myself. Curiosity is a powerful thing.

I went to see Treena's burlesque show at the beginning of the month. I thought I knew what to expect, since I've been to plenty of titty bars and seen lots of stuff - hell I give myself a bit of a show every night and morning I the mirror... But I wasn't prepared for this. Women who looked like Treena - or not like her but definitely not like any woman you see at the Club - performing skits and dance routines, and one even doing a topless karaoke to Wilson Phillips "Hold On" while fit athletic men backed them up. I wondered if they were all gay, or just standing by getting hard. But as the night wore on I found myself tittilated... Not by the sights exactly, but the atmosphere. Hot guys, fearless women... It was hot, steamy stuff both men and women could enjoy, if one is open minded enough.

I stuck around to congratulate Treens on a good performance and tell her how impressed I was with her acting and singing, and she offered to introduce me to the guys... But for one of the first times I was just too bashful. I don't get it! I was always great with women, why shouldn't I be even better with men? They're the ones who should be tripping over themselves to talk to me. But I just felt this embarrassed flush in my face. And all I could think of was Mariah back home in my drawer...

When I got home I said a quick goodnight to Treens and headed to my room. I threw my clothes on the floor and laid my naked body down on the bed, legs spread, with Mariah in my right hand. With my left hand I caressed up and down my soft, sensitive skin, feeling every curve that I have gotten to know these past 4 months until I arrived at my soft, petite breast with its pointy raised nipple. I licked my finger and stroked around the outside of it as I flicked Mariah on and heard her low soft him, like an electric razor.

With one final pause I slipped her in between my legs. She isn't shaped like a penis so I figured it's not really meant to be "inserted," which I wasn't really ready to do either way, but holding her against the outside where she could work my clitoris produced a sensational feeling on its own!

The thing caused my body to take off like a rocket. I could hear myself start to moan and my body twist almost uncontrollably. I needed to keep going. As my hips gyrated wildly in response to the pleasure I increased the intensity and pressed harder. My heart raced as my pleasure built and built until finally I felt myself just... explode! Powerful muscles inside of my flickered telling me I had reached bliss. It did not take long at all to complete, probably because my male brain was so overwhelmed by new sensations. And then, because I could, I kept going, because one orgasm simply was not enough.

Once I decided I was done, after an hour so of intense, almost unbearable delight, I just laid in the glow of it. I felt like a whole new person. More complete than I have in the entire time I have been here. More than when I was a man!

Things might never be the same for me. But feeling embarrassed about feeling pleasure is so stupid I can't even bear it. since then, I'm walking taller, smiling more, just generally being more pleasant to everyone around me, lol... and meanwhile every night I just can't wait to rush home and try something new. I've done it with my legs in the air, on my hands and knees, sitting on it... I'm honestly becoming the filthy ho I was clearly meant to be.

And as to what someone said about it being a "gateway"....... we'll see, honey. I honestly think I'm getting everything I need right now.

-Simon

Simon/Joy: Obviously Treena reads the blog.

This morning when I woke up I found a nondescript white box sitting on the floor outside my door. Inside was a strange-shaped item called a "Leaf." It has a little button on it that creates a pulsing, vibrating sensation, and has another setting that causes it to squirm like a tongue.

With a note: "This will help you stay out of trouble, I hope." Signed, "The Inanimate Object Fairy."

I felt like she was making fun of me at first. But I looked it up... it was not cheap. It was a real gift. I guess she actually wants me to be happy, and thinks that if I incorporate this into my life I will be.

But for now I'm just looking at this thing and thinking, how ridiculous. Chicks need this kinda stuff to get off? Things used to be so simple...

I don't know, with a device this advanced, I get the feeling you're not supposed to just be "quick and dirty" with it. You need to give yourself time and really make an evening of it. (That's probably why my personal results have been... mixed so far.)

What do you think, guys? Should I take the leaf for a spin sometime? Light some candles, pour myself some wine and see what happens...?

Sure beats the awkwardness of trying to date a guy...

Simon/Joy: How does she do it?

Life has gotten pretty routine around here... I get up in the morning (way too early but I need my eyelashes to be on point) and go to work. If I have a normal day at the office and don't have to show any clients around, I come home by 7 and make myself some dinner... usually just a quickie meal for one, although sometimes Treena offers me some of whatever she's having (she tends to make an entire week's worth of meals in the slow cooker, which... bleh!) I see her a little bit in the evening when she takes a break from work, and maybe we gab a little but since we settled in and I started working, her interest in my personal life - IE my experience in now having a vagina - has diminished. Which suits me fine because as soon as I get home, kick off my heels and unfasten my bra, I'd just prefer to pretend that I'm the same guy I always was.

But I'm not. I can't be. Because I've had some thoughts... you may know... that Simon would never have had.

I'm not in denial or anything but Treena did make a point to bring it up recently. Because I got up in the morning one day this week and the shower was running. And Treena is never up early. You don't have to be a detective to know what that means. No problem I think, I skip that part of my routine and go have breakfast.

Then he emerges. Shirtless, wet, towel around his waist. If I didn't know better I'd swear he wanted me to see him. And I guess I must have stared just a little too long because he gave me this stupid grin.

"You must be the roommate!" he says nonchalantly.

"Yes I am," I say, clearing my throat of awkwardness. "And you are?"

"Brent. I'm a, uh, friend of Treena's."

"Oh really?" I raise an eyebrow. "For how long?"

"Um," he says with a bit of a squeak, "Not long. Hope you don't mind I showered..."

"No, um, no problem! Our casa su casa..." I stammered like an awkward teenager getting a good glimpse of cleavage. Except it was a man's... like, that v-part that goes down the hips? What's that called anyway?

He went back to Treena's room and I spent the whole day distracted, pondering... how did I feel about that? And more importantly... what was he doing with her?

I've been asked not to discuss Treena's looks in this blog. She's actually very attractive, you just need to have certain tastes. I don't necessarily only like them skinny myself - or at least I don't when I'm a guy - so Treena, I can totally see the appeal. I think I'm pretty open. But this guy looks like he hits the gym three or four times a week. I guess I see her with more of an... intellectual, a skinny cultured guy. Someone who isn't conventionally good looking but has a certain charm.

Of course, when I asked her about Brent that night she got pretty offended at the implication that he was too hot for her. I tried to tell her, it's not about levels of hotness, it's about what kind of hot you are, but she just went back to saying I was Shallow Simon. Whatever.

She said she supposed I thought a guy like Brent would prefer someone who looks like me. I said that was neither here nor there since I'm not on the market.

She said "Sure. I see you covertly still texting Joey. You jump like a little bunny every time he buzzes you. You're just waiting to get the nerve up to admit you are into it. You know I've been with Joey already, and how he looks. You know why? Because I'm confident. I know what I'm worth and I work it. Like what you pretend to be."

I was flummoxed. She has this way of picking at my nerves. "Okay, where do you meet guys like Brent and Joey?"

"At the show," she said.

"What show?"

Then she rolled her eyes and picked a flyer off the fridge that's been on the fridge all month. She could hardly contain her exasperation at me as she explained, "You don't even think to ask where I go three nights a week. To rehearsal."

The flyer was for this weird... I dunno, cabaret, burlesque thing. It had a black and white photo of a woman who looked a lot like Treena, in a bustier.

"I thought this was just for, like... kitsch? A gag? You would never..."

"I have," she smiled, "Often and gladly. Gotten onstage and sung my heart out for strangers who get to see my tits afterward. Or done skits. Comedy."

"You're a stripper?"

"I'm a performer. Strippers get dollar bills stuffed in their G-strings. I make a cut of the house."

"That's insane, my mind is blown," I said.

"You never expected something like that from me, did you," she said with a wink. "It took guts, I did it on almost a dare in college, but I loved it so much it became a serious passion. I really missed it during my time as Nazim."

"Oh right," I said, remembering that when I met her she was in the body of a Muslim girl.

"What's this all got to do with me and my confidence?" I asked finally.

"Pfft, nothing," she scoffed. "Not everything is about you, Simon. I could hardly care if you fancy men or women or inanimate objects. Just don't spend too much time comparing yourself to others, and don't deny yourself something harmless if you really want it."

I took a deep breath and sighed. "What if I don't want to want it?"

"That's the dilemma of life, sweetie," she said. "You don't know if something's good for you until you try it, and my guess is there's still enough male pride in there thinking you're a failure of a person if you admit that maybe kissing boys is something you'd like."

That stung but I tried to ignore it. I asked her if it would be inappropriate to come see her show and she said sure, she had nothing to hide. The next one is next week, a tribute to Columbus day. Weird.

Now... I just need to find out where I can get one of those inanimate objects she was suggesting... ;)

-S/J

Simon/Joy: Born for this

Call me crazy, but I am actually having a blast out here.

For starters, real estate is basically the perfect job for a workaholic like me. Okay, in my normal life I'm very "work hard play hard" but I've been skimping on the "play" part so I can focus on getting the bills paid and building up a bit of a financial safety net just in case. So I'm pretty much always available to my clients, and giving them the necessary amount of my brainpower to negotiate them as good of a deal as possible. I'm still a little shaky about buying, but selling, I've managed to rack up an impressive streak of sales above asking, sometimes by a lot. I had a hunch, if I could sell industrial components in the fading rust belt, California Real Estate ought to be a snap.

The trick is to get them in a room, not over the phone. They feel trapped and blindsided that a chick this small and unassuming could be a total shark.

Life is good, the money is great, the weather out here is gorgeous, I'm sexy as hell - I dedicate a few hours every weekend to keeping my tan up. When I started working Treena gave me the keys to the real Joy's Audi SUV, which rides like a dream (necessary for showing clients around.) What could be missing? I mean, besides what's between my legs.

I'm looking at the big picture here. Have an awesome year, soak up the sun and the cash, while Treena keeps up her search for the real Joy. I'm saying, I think she abandoned her body, must have gotten a better deal. If so, good for her, I wish her the best. Maybe someone out there will want to relieve me of hers once the year is up, I bet there's a whole community out there willing to trade. And when that happens, I'll be me again, ready to take the licensing test under my real name and resume my career here.

I know that sounds optimistic, but the way things are going I think it's realistic. Am I willing to consider the possibility that shit goes sideways and I get stuck here? Sure. I've read the blog, I know that happens. But it's not like that would be a death sentence (or even a life sentence!) I'm totally crushing it here, so if I get "stuck," well... somehow I bet I'll manage.

Anyway, that's what's up with me, peeps. Hope I can keep checking in on the regular.
Peace! - S/J

Simon/Joy: Life moves pretty fast

It's hard to believe just a bit over two months has passed since I wound up here. I'm so used to it now, it's almost all routine. Waking up in Joy's old bed, surrounded by her belongings* and seeing her beautiful** face in the mirror... brushing her shoulder-length blonde hair before bed and after waking up, applying make-up if I so desire... dressing in her clothes, often two or three changes per day depending on what I'm planning on doing... it's all so normal that at times it's a little easy to forget my life was ever different, which is freaky but also kind of re-assuring. I'd hate to be some baby who moped his way through the next year, you know? I've been given a gift with this insane experience, why waste time rejecting it? Since day one I've seen the potential to make chickenshit into chicken salad here.

*Including a plethora of motivational wall-hangings, framed photos of her with her friends from when she was a young girl or a teen, and stuffed animals from her childhood. Honestly, they say men have a hard time growing up but this woman owns like 300 teddy bears?

**She is very beautiful despite my little blip in confidence last month, with big blue eyes and perfect teeth. I just feel like I'm surrounded by too many girls who are somehow hotter.

I mean, so what if the clothes I wear are frilly, and dainty? Skin-tight or flowy? Flower-print, attention-getting, bright colors? None of these were my speed before, that's for sure, but I didn't have the body to go underneath it. I would have looked like a damn fool in my normal body wearing Joy's clothes, but as her? It looks so normal that it starts to feel normal. And feeling normal is how I keep my confidence up.

Hell, forget normal. I look good, baby.

I feel like I'm ready for the world. I've primed myself on the basics of real estate law in California, and how to conduct these transactions. I've cobbled together a resume that combines my skills as an employee with Joy's educational background, and sent it out into the world. And now... we wait.

I need money. I don't spend a lot but my savings are dwindling. I don't want to take a service job just to keep myself afloat, but if I need to go into a low-level sales position somewhere, I bet I could make it work. But the lure of huge real estate commissions calls to me. Besides, this is a face that deserves to be on billboards.

I think I've turned a corner with Treena. Now that we've aired some of our grievances with each other, I feel like we can communicate better. She still thinks I have a "limited idea of what it means to be female" but so what? It's not like I judge her for not being fashion-conscious and feminine all the time. But none of the women in my life were ever like her; I suspect none of the women in my future line of work are more like this, the way I am choosing to present myself. I want to fit in and I want to be a woman the way I choose to. Isn't that what all the feminist 101 crap is all about? My body, my choice? I choose to embrace hotness.

But speaking of my body...

The gentleman who inherited my body, let's call him Smitty, is doing well. He managed to close the TexWest deal under my watchful eye - really just signing his name to my work, but he did get it into the endzone when I left it for him on the ten yard line. He gives me a too-small cut of what he makes at my job. He keeps me updated on my accounts, and seems to be tending to them well. I guess my life is in good hands.

Which is probably scary, right? Oh boy, if this guy does so well with my life, what's to stop him from stealing it and forcing me to stay in Joy's body? I've read this blog enough to know that is a possibility. It certainly kept me up at night for a while. After all, I was a decent-looking, young-enough guy with a good job. If we're giving monetary values to a person's life, mine would fetch a pretty penny.

He seems trustworthy. Now, I didn't get this far in life by counting my chickens before they hatch, but he told me that he's a family man who was travelling for business of his own, and was torn away from his wife and kids. A fine cover story, but then I verified his references as best I could.

Is he going to abandon his life just to make a few bucks in mine? That would be cold, bro. I think he won't. He's got a lot to lose, too. So while I may not be on totally solid ground - how many of of us are? - I can sleep at night, a bit. As long as we work together to get ourselves back where we belong. Then when I'm Simon again, I can move out to the coast and pick up where I'll be leaving off... after all, all this sunshine is positively addicting. And when I get back on the right side of the biological equation, I bet I could do real good with these bikini-clad  honeys...

Speaking of this life and that, Treena has continued to search for Joy's whereabouts, to little effect. She's got a theory that the poor girl got the date wrong and showed up at the Inn too late to get her own body back. Honestly, anything is possible, sure, but then how come we never heard from her? In the digital age, having someone just drop off the face of the Earth is spooky.

In the meantime, I'm keeping myself amused. Girls' nights out with Shayla, Courtnee and Milena happen weekly. Joey is always good for a laugh - whenever I'm having a tough day I text him just to tease the possibility that I might be interested and it never fails to cheer me up. Even Treena and I have made a few outings, but she much prefers a quiet night in, so if I want to spend time on the couch watching Netflix or DVDs from her collection (she loves foreign films and old films and old foreign films... yawn...) I've got her.

I just make sure to keep her at a distance... in case what Shayla was saying turns out to be true, I don't want to lead her on.

Peace
-Simon/Joy

Simon/Joy: The Joey thing...

So, yeah, about that.

I dunnohis at's in myit's definitely no damn ad lately, if it's girl-juices or flattery or just plan boredom, but when I got a text from a number that wasn't already in my contacts, saying "Hey, it's Joey, I got your number from Courtnee. I thought we really hit it off at the party, just thought I'd say hi" I wasn't immediately turned off. My thinking was more like "Oh, this could be fun." I'd already experienced his advances at the party, and while it didn't exactly light my world on fire, it was good for a laugh. But at the time I intended to leave it at that.

After considering it for a while, I decided that life as a woman wasn't going to get any easier, better learn what this is like now. I could have been kind to the guy and told him I wasn't interested, but I didn't have the heart. I'm still skeptical that I could ever be interested in a guy "that way" but I wanted to at least engage him like there was a chance of that, so I could gauge his behavior.

Not exactly steamy flirty talk, I'll admit. But hey I'm a real person and that was what was on my mind at the time. Like I said, I don't know if this body has flipped me around so that I'm interested in guys, but I'm definitely not seeing myself with any guy who uses "u." We talked a bit more and then he brings this up...

Notice me saying "haha" to things that are definitely not funny, just to reassure him that I'm still interested. That last bit was after a long pause where I seriously could not think of anything to say in response.

I wanted to say I had one too, in my nightstand drawer, but I could see that going off the rails quickly. I admit I was getting a bit deep into character by admitting he was attractive -- objectively, he's pretty okay but I couldn't just say that to the poor guy.

Long story short, he offered me a chance to see it for myself, and I politely declined, but it didn't end there. Every few days he would check in on me and try to strike up a conversation, which he would then turn toward the size of his member at the first opportunity. One time he asked me if it was okay that I was in his contacts as "Sexi J" and I was just like "Cool, sure, whatever." I'm just... too much of a diplomat to turn him down too harshly, because I know how bad it feels to be rejected by a chick and I just can't go through with it. So I string him along a little bit, get him all riled up just to see what he'll say, and then disappear. I feel kind of bad about it, but at least he gets to have fun chasing me. From that perspective, it's win-win.

Win-Win-Win, in fact, because after Treena told me she had had a thing with Joey, I showed her all the conversations and we had a good laugh. She felt embarrassed that she had slept with him and admitted that her jealousy toward me was more about feeling thrown away than because he was such a great guy.

As it is, this guy is just something I keep in my purse for amusement. If I need cheering up, I just go to my text window with him and prompt him for more dick-hype. One time he found a reason to tell me he sometimes jacked it twice a day. I hadn't asked. It's a strong feeling, knowing you have that kind of power over someone, to make them want to impress you so badly. Real intoxicating.

Of course he's not always talking about his junk. It's just that seems to be his favorite topic. At times it's actually quite nice to have someone to talk to who isn't Treena. It makes me wonder. If a smarter, more charming guy had gotten my number, someone I could have some common ground with or a fun response to anything he had to say... what would that be like?


(PS I didn't use real screenshots as you can probably tell, just re-created them with a website.)

(PPS he has sent me images of his penis and it's definitely no damn eleven inches... Not that I care...)

Simon/Joy: Costumes

It was crazy in SD last weekend, with that comic con thing going on. I actually didn't experience that much of it, but I needed Treena to give me a ride somewhere and we ended up driving past a whole herd of people in costumes.




I gawked a while. There were some very fine looking women in that bunch, dressed in skintight or skimpy outfits, often as characters I don't recognize. After we got home, I made some comment to Treena - honestly, an innocent one - about how they were probably just doing it for the attention, and it was clearly working on me.




Treena got very huffy about that and told me I didn't know what I was talking about, that these girls were probably really interested in the things they were dressed as and just wanted a "creative outlet" to express that.


I shrugged it off and said "Whatever, but you can't tell me the attention isn't a nice side-benefit. I know it when I see it."


"You would say that," she sneered.


"What is that supposed to mean?" I barked back. Normally I don't give her the incentive when I can sense she's mad at me, but that day was hot and I was frustrated with some girl stuff, so I wasn't in the mood for her passive-aggressive murmuring.


But then came the lecture. "You have such a limited view of what it means to be a woman," she said, "Scratch that - what it means to be a person. Not everyone is just in it to get attention and tease people. Lots of these women are probably just doing it because it makes them feel good. Because back home, they're nobody, but coming out here, dressing up as a character and yeah, getting some props for that... makes them feel like they're more than that. Sound like anyone you know?"


I shifted in my seat for a second and said, "Yeah, but they can take their costumes off."


"Sure," she said, "But inside, they're probably dealing with a lot of the same stuff you are. Even without the body changing shit."




The rest of the ride was silent but something about her tone irked me so much that I finally couldn't let it slide, so when we got home I let it out, "What exactly is your problem with me?"


"What do you mean?" she played innocent.


"I mean you hardly acknowledge my existence and whenever you do, it's like I'm some big burden you got saddled with. Sorry your friend went missing and you feel like you're stuck with me, but this isn't a walk in the park for me, you know? If I'm that bad, I'll... fuckin' leave."


She stopped and sighed again. "So we're doing this then? Okay, I'll let it out. First off, don't bitch to me about treating you like a burden. I've been so helpful to you and you hardly thank me for it, like it's my job or something to help you decide what to eat or what to wear or show you how to insert a tampon. You have a phone and all of her contacts and social media accounts because I took the time to hack into them for you, something I felt very gross about doing."


She took a breath. "It's hard for me, okay? It's hard for me to watch you walking around in my friend's skin, acting like some kind of cruel parody of her. You have her voice and her face but you say things she would never say, a way she would never say them. Obsessing over your looks and chasing after women, openly talking about using your looks to manipulate people to get ahead... thinking with your nonexistent cock and potentially ruining her reputation or her career, or anything about her life."


"I've been very careful," I interjected, but she brushed me off.


"It's not even what you're doing as Joy, it's... it's what you are. I read the blog, you should know. Every time you write about any woman, including me, you have to discuss their looks in a way that makes me feel dirty. Like that's the only value we have, or that you have now that you're one of us."


"That's not true," I said.


"Sure feels that way," she said. Boy, she had all this stuff worked out and I was just blindsided.


"Sorry if I hurt your feelings, I don't think I said anything that bad about you."


"Yeah," she said - she was on the verge of tears, I think - "I'm sure you think that, but how many times have you felt the need to mention my size? Fuck's sake, I'm not even that fat!"


"It's just for comparison..." I explained. She didn't care.


Silence fell between us. I guess she ran out of steam, and I was just cold trying to come to grips with what she was telling me. Finally I composed my response.


"Look, I'm dealing with this the best way I know how," I said, "Don't act like looks weren't important to Joy, because I've been living out of her wardrobe all summer and believe me, this is a girl who cares about fashion. She was probably nicer about it than I was. But she wasn't as nice as you think she was. You know what Shayla told me?


"She said she was surprised I was still living with you, because Joy told her she was worried you had a crush on her, and the way you treat me, I can totally see it.


"You don't get along with her friends, and I think you probably judge them because they're into all that superficial crap you hate - or claim to, miss dyes-her-hair-some-new-color-every-month. So get off your high horse. I'm doing the best I can to adapt, and I'm sorry I'm not a perfect person and I hold some views you don't like. I'm just trying to learn, okay?"


She stormed out and I went to my room and we didn't talk almost for the rest of the night, but as I was getting ready for bed she knocked on my door.


"What now?"


"Well," she said, "There's one more reason I might have been upset and it has nothing to do with Joy. Who, by the way, I did not have a crush on."


"Whatever. I'm listening."


"That guy Joey, the one who was all over you at the party?"


"Yeah?"


"We hooked up a year ago. Never called me again. And... look, he wasn't that great or anything, but seeing him pawing at you without you having to do much, while I might as well have been invisible... it just reminds me that shit isn't fair sometimes, ok?"


I smiled. "Wow. I never would have guessed. I mean, not that I thought you were actually gay, but I didn't think you'd go for a guy like that."


"What can I say?" she smirked, "Sometimes you just need a piece of meat."


We laughed a bit and called a truce. She agreed to cut me some slack if I made an effort to be more sensitive - I don't think I'm quite the chauvinist she sees me as, but I guess that's just about changing hearts and minds. Still, getting that all out in the open was... kind of a relief.


I was still laughing afterward. She asked me what I found so funny, so I showed her...


It was a text conversation between me and Joey.


But more on that later...

Simon/Joy: Girl Talk

Dunno if anyone felt like I left a bit of a cliffhanger in my last post, but after that I had a few things to figure out for myself and I didn't want to check in again until I at least tried to deal with them. It also didn't help that a few days later I got a period so bad I didn't feel like doing anything at all. I cramped up so bad all I could do was lie in bed and moan about my cursed fate. Seriously, I really want to see the upsides of being magically transformed but that's a pretty massive bringdown, having a few days like that. I wonder, do women have pissing contests about who has the worst periods? They can't all be 100% supportive, right? you just know if men got em we'd constantly be one-upping each other. "Bro, I bled so much yesterday it was like frickin' Game of Thrones over here. Total Freddy Kreuger action here."

Also we wouldn't have to pay so much for tampons. Looking into one of those re-usable cups, but I dunno if I'm gonna be around long enough for it to matter...? Hmm. Seems like a practical solution, though.

Anyway, amidst the sexual confusion and the bloody mess that was my second-ever period, I decided the best way to find answers was to meet up one-on-one with Shayla. I felt like if I was ever going to find a test-case for whether I could still consider myself into girls, it would be this absolutely gorgeous creature.

I can't even over-emphasize her hotness. She is a few inches taller than me, with long dark hair, a whole Kardashian thing going on, honey-brown eyes and a golden complexion, and of course, that glorious rack and nice round ass. I Facebooked her the day after the party to see if she wanted to arrange an outing - like it was no big thing - and it took us over a week for her schedule to clear up enough.

Honestly, I've read enough of this blog to know that I was against the wall here. Guys become women and succumb all the time to their hetero lady desires for men. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but if there's any part of Joy that could be into girls... I would like to find it. Even if most of her is into guys. I can deal with that later.

So she told me she'd like to meet at her favourite lunch spot. I told her I needed a reminder where that was, and she already seemed to think I had gone cuckoo, but complied. It wasn't that far of a walk, and it was a nice day, so I set out on foot...

Big mistake. In my eagerness to look like a bombshell for Shayla, I had worn strappy three-inch stilettos that looked real fancy, but chafed at all the straps, pinched my toes into blisters and hurt my ankles to walk in. I was exhausted by time we sat down, sweating my make-up off. My back was also achy from lugging too much stuff around in my perch, whose fell right between my breasts and bounced and rubbed against them. My hair was pulled back in a clip, messily. I felt like a mess already. Not an ideal impression. She arrived after me by car, looking gorgeous, in a tight black dress with her cleavage on display. And I immediately got excited: was this for me?

I'm not stupid enough to think that Shayla secretly harbors feelings for Joy. She has a boyfriend she's obviously very into - watching them at the BBQ really made me want to gag - but I thought at this point maybe I could get some privileges. Say we go to the gym and shower together, or try on outfits for one another. Just while I figure out exactly which side of the equation I want to fall on.

But I soon found out it really wasn't anything to get excited about, despite the view. We sat down to eat and she yammered on and on about all the stuff she had been up to in the past year: trips she and her guy had been on, her job, her catty co-workers, and people Joy is supposed to know. I found myself glancing over at her breasts hopping to feel that ping of excitement a man gets, but the experience was tainted - which I should have expected. If I was losing interest while I had her in a bikini, why would it hold my attention in everyday clothes (albeit ones that were sexy in their own way.) My impulses felt like they were traffic jammed. I felt so neutered and detached from that male feeling. I wanted to urge my body to have a reaction but I couldn't.

I found a few thoughts flickering in my head. One: I felt way less attractive than I normally do. I felt invisible to the waiter, even though I, too, was done up as best I could be. I felt I had a lot yet to learn about style and fashion, if I wanted to become a superwoman of Shayla's stripe. I felt like, as a mere Pharma Rep, she was underselling herself, that with a body like that, if she applied herself, she cold make any man do anything. Suddenly I felt it unfair that I hadn't ended up as Shayla - with wicked curves and big bouncy tits. I'm just slender, petite, pretty-in-her-on-way Joy. What I could do with that bod.

To top it all off, I felt annoyed at every mention of her boyfriend. I felt like I - as Simon - was as good a man or better, but never landed a chick as hot as her. Sure my looks were not in her league, but I had plenty in the bank, and great prospects. I would'a treated her right, and now I didn't even feel that interested.

Everything felt gray and cold. Like, I've defined my life for so long by the pursuit of success in business and with women, and now I was basically disqualified from the latter and feeling like I was going to have to work harder - not less - at the former.

Then something weird happened. Shayla noticed I was seeming a bit down and asked "Honey, what's wrong?" I whipped up some story about feeling insecure about the future, not mentioning my looks or hers, and she leaned over the table and gave me a big hug and said she was sure I was gonna be fine, and suggested we treat ourselves to mani-pedis. I almost didn't, thinking That's too girly, but I wondered if I could call anything "too girly" these days. It would be a new experience.

While we sat and had Korean ladies painting our fingers and toes, Shayla admitted she noticed something seemed off about me - I didn't seem to have the zest I usually did, based on my behavior and how I was not putting as much effort into my look, and told me if I ever wanted to open up about what happened, she would be there for me. I felt both warmed, and actually a little judged... I was dong my best, and somehow it's not enough? If only Shayla knew I was new to all this!

I got home later than planned and found Treena on the couch watching Netflix. She asked how it had been and I told her it was mixed reviews. I didn't get the results I wanted... in fact, I'm very soured on dating girls overall. Does this mean I'm "into" guys? No. Not actively, I'll tell you that. I think it will take a lot of convincing to give up that particular aspect of my man card.

Besides, I'm real busy these days. I'm going to start applying for jobs soon, and I've still got to spend my days in contemplation of lacy thong underwear, A-line skirts and 3" heels, determining exactly what kind of Joy I am.

Treena muttered something under her breath and left the room. I swear it's like she looks for reasons not to like me, and is trying to make me not like her either.

-S/J

Simon/Joy: Fireworks

So, as I alluded in my last post, I was invited (or should I say, Joy was invited) to a Fourth of July BBQ with a bunch of her old friends. I had a few weeks' notice about this and my initial response was "of course not!" I couldn't ready to be out in the world, to be seen like this, to wear this woman's face around people she's known for years!

But in the time between, a few things happened. I was taking walks around the neighborhood just about every day, mostly for coffee (coffee places are a ripoff, of course, but it's a good excuse to get out of the house.) At first I was just throwing on whatever fit - yoga pants or leggings, a loose tank or tee. I would walk the three blocks, keep to myself, get my tall coffee and walk back a different route. Then after a few weeks I got bored of that, started putting together my OOTD (outfit of the day, of course) and walking to the coffee place six blocks away, walking a little taller, taking note of the eyes that looked up at me as I passed. You know, it's not just about looking good, it's about confidence. And I can't sell anything if my natural posture is slouched down, looking at my own feet, shuffling down the street. Nobody is going to see me or listen to anything I have to say. I need to walk tall, keep my head up and smile that knowing smirk at anyone who crosses my path. I have to work it, own it, be about it.

And how am I supposed to do any of that if I don't know who I really am?

So those people on the street were my test audience. And the baristas too, with every visit I would talk a bit more with them, as they would get used to seeing me, clearly excited to see me, feel they were building a connection. It means nothing on my end but if you can fake someone else into feeling it you know you've done it right.

Then came the Father's Day convo with Joy's parents, and while that was not the most comfortable I've ever felt, I e-mailed afterwards to feel out whether they sensed anything "off" about me, as subtly as I could. No issues on their end. I felt this strange relief. If I could fool this girl's parents into thinking I was her, I was in. Whatever I'm doing is working.

Then I did a bit of recon on who had replied yes to this party. I was particularly on the lookout for Joy's exes: Lucas, Steve, Marco and Ramon. No matter where they are in life there was always a possibility that seeing her might stir up some feelings and that was not something I wanted to deal with. Not that I'm opposed to checking in with any of them to let them know I'm/Joy is doing okay, but it has to be on my terms.

None of them would be coming. Then I scrolled through everyone who RSVP'd on Facebook. Many of those were in relationships, which is good because I was looking to meet people, not hook up. I also took notice several of the girls, Joy's closest friends: Shayla with the big boobs, Milena the black girl with the fuck-me eyes, Courtnee with the sexy smile. All sexy bitches. I know I'm a female right now so the odds of me sexually conquering any of these women is decreased, but I felt this strange stirring of emotions when I looked at each of their photos. Attraction? Appreciation for their looks? Wishing I still had my dick? It was like this happy-sad, bittersweet-excited-yearning feeling I couldn't put my finger on. As hot as these women were, and as much as I felt I wanted to meet them, there was something inside me tainting it.

The last piece of the puzzle, actually, was Treena. Treena and I have a frosty relationship, but I would say a positive one. I stay out of her way, and she stays out of mine, and while I've tried to make a few olive branch moves, she doesn't seem to have taken them well. But I had to ask: "Treena, would you come to this thing with me?"

She gave me that "You can't be serious" eyebrow and sighed, "I have a lot of work to do."

"Come on," I pleaded, pouring as much honey in my voice as possible, "I know it's probably not your scene, but I could really use the support. This is me facing my biggest challenge yet as Joy. And it's for them, you know... like you said, letting them know I'm alive and well."

She rolled her eyes. "I was just talking about posting some Instagrams, pfft. This is... Simon, this is serious. This other is people's lives you're about to enter. Impose yourself on. Feelings could get hurt."

"You think I'll hurt them? You're trying to protect them?"

"Them, you... everyone. It's probably for the best that you just live your own life and... don't worry about Joy's too much."

"I can't do that," I said, "I'll go crazy." I couldn't reveal just how badly I wanted to get a close-up look at Shayla's rack, too.

"You'll go with or without me, won't you?"

"Most likely."

"So have fun," she said, and turned back to her computer.

"Treena, I..." I sighed, "I consider you a friend. My only real friend right now. Please."

She rubbed her temples like she had a headache. Like I was a headache. "We're not friends, we're just stuck in a situation together. I'm helping you not to screw up Joy's life, until we find her and get her back where she belongs."

That actually hurt to hear a little bit, but I didn't let it show. "Don't you want to make friends with the person you're stuck with? It's better than being enemies." I reasoned, "If I go alone, I'll probably just screw her life up more, right? And I'm going to go. You coming would be the smart thing, and the nice thing."

She pursed her lips - it was actually quite cute. "Fine. I'll drive."

"Yes!" I pumped my fist. "Don't forget to bring a swimsuit and towel." Never underestimate the power of a hard sell.

She muttered something under her breath, probably sarcastic, and left.

I spent two hours getting ready - I tried doing my make-up in a serious way for the first time, and, well, it didn't come out right. Twice. So I went with a less-is-more look, figuring I would be in the pool so much that the effort wouldn't be worth it. I'm hoping to get my prep time down to under 20 minutes so that I don't become one of those cliché girls who spends hours in front of he vanity. For my outfit, it was a choice between a light yellow sundress and a lacy crop top with low-rise jean shorts that are smaller than the boxers I wore s a man. I went with the shorts - less flashy but easier to get in and out of - with strappy flat sandals on my feet. Underneath I wore a tiny light blue bikini whose bottom clung tightly to my buttcheeks and a tube top that squished my teeny boobs pretty tight but wouldn't come off easy or let my nips slip. The benefits of a petite chest. It has a little window in the middle to reveal a hint of cleavage that I hoped would be a little mesmerizing, considering my assets aren't exactly bountiful.

We arrived around 8. It was nice and hot out, the sun was still shining but setting over the ocean. Lots of beautiful people were splashing in the pool while a small group of guys congregated by the grill. Treena said to me, in her quiet anti-social grumble, "Don't abandon me, okay?" I told her I'd try, but even so I decided to dive in and mingle. I saw Shayla and Courtnee sitting poolside with their legs dangling in the water. I decided to just yell out a friendly "What's up!!" to the general group and see who reacted. As I thought, they rushed over to hug me. "Joy girl!" Shayla cried as she pressed her body into mine (full frontal contact, nice!) "It's you!! Baby girl, we need to talk! Omigad, you look so gorgeous, stunning really, you haven't changed a bit!"

"Thanks!" I blushed. I am still not used to having people remark on my looks (most people I meet probably are thinking it but don't see fit to come right out and say so!) and even though they're not mine from birth exactly, I take a certain amount of pride in how I keep it up. "You look super sexy, like always!"

She smiled, "Oh, stop. You know how I feel about compliments." I don't, and still don't get what that remark meant, but she moved on. "Where have you been all winter? SD has been a bore without you!"

"Oh, here and there. Top secret missions..." - my cute way of saying "Can't tell you but I wish I could." I bristled at that remark about the city not being the same without me, it felt like a lot of pressure to be fun and outgoing, even if she was just being flattering. "What about you? How's the boyfriend?"

"Pfft," she scoffed, "The boys all went to the park to play some football and ignore us ladies. And the men are ignoring us by cooking our food. But that suits us fine! It's girl time and we need to talk."

"You remember my roommate Treena, right?" I remembered my promise not to abandon her. Not right off the bat anyway.

"Oh yes, vaguely," Courtnee said as she sized her up. Treena, stretched out in a cabana chair, gave a courtesy wave that basically said "I don't care about you." Courtnee concluded, "I didn't think she would be interested in hanging out with us..."

They continued to ply me for information but I continued to play coy and say that what I had been up to was really not that interesting. My claim was that I was doing property management for this firm that has a big government contract and that I had to sign a non-disclosure agreement. Never mind that that sort of work isn't really under the purview of Joy's actual job as a realtor, it makes me sound really interesting.

They probed for the really juicy stuff: How long have I been back in town, am I seeing anyone, have I talked to you-know-who? I do know who they meant (Lucas, who Joy was dating when she "disappeared") but I told them I hadn't had time to hit him up. In reality I am not interested in deliberately stirring up any drama with Joy's exes. I assume it might come up by and by but it's definitely not my goal.

"He was so crushed by the way you ended things..." Shayla said, "But we stuck up for you, babe."

"Aw, thanks!" I said and took the chance to hug her again. The thanks wasn't really for me, but I'm sure Joy would appreciate the gesture. I also have a feeling it hurt her very much to have to end a seemingly healthy relationship abruptly.

I left my bag by Treena and slipped out of my outerwear. Shayla, Courtnee and I frolicked in the pool with the other five or six girls, and I was sure to keep splashing near Shayla... I know she wasn't going to read anything into it but friendly horseplay, but it was how I felt like acting around her: goofy, charming, flirty. I just felt drawn to her. Maybe it was some residual friendship baked into Joy's DNA or a sisterhood bond that all women feel. Or maybe, like I said, she had huge tits and I wanted to be near them.

Then before long, the boys came back and started wrecking things. They mobbed the pool, diving and cannonballing in en mass and throwing anybody who wasn't already in, in. Milena was with them, which made her the only girl in the crew of sweaty, active guys. That made me feel... strange to see. They must have been fawning over her during the whole game. The way they acted around her, even though she wasn't  the very hottest girl at the party, showed a real connection. The single ones were all vying for her attention. Shayla had her boyfriend, and Courtnee seemed to bounce between a few different guys.

It was then that I started to feel  strange pang of jealousy. Jealous of the guys for having the chance to get with these girls. Bitter at the girls for not seeing me among them. Annoyed with the whole situation because I didn't feel like I stood out anymore, that even though the energy was more sexual than I would have known what to do with, they didn't have to do anything to get attention and I was stuck feeling like a wallflower. I told myself it was good just to observe but I wanted to be in the mix. I really thought Joy's return would make her/me a bigger deal than I was.

I could see Treena getting disenfranchised, too. The group was obviously more superficial than she would prefer, and probably lacking for stimulating conversation. I don't want you to get the idea that I don't think Treena is attractive but she was the only girl at the party that looked, well, like her. And me, I was something of an outcast beside her. we had a few drinks and I tried to use the time to bond with her, but she and I haven't really found any common ground yet... and I think she was still irritated that I had dragged her out.

I decided that if I wanted to make the most of this story, I would have to play a part. After all, here I was attracted by sexy young people - while looking like a sexy young person. I waited until I saw a guy - any guy - sitting unattached and I sat next to him. "So, what's your story?"

"Oh, I'm Joey," he said. He had some chin fuzz, a necklace, and I guess it's okay for me to say a decent build. No reason to be as embarrassed to have his shirt off as I used to be

"That's funny," I said, "My name's Joy. Joy, Joey, it's almost the same." Did I mention that I had had a few glasses of Sangria? And also that I have a theory that anything sounds charming and insightful coming out of a pretty girl. "Are you also in real estate?"

"No, I'm a lifeguard," he said, "I think we've met before at a party last year."

"Oh really?" I forced a giggle, "I feel bad for forgetting. Maybe this time I won't." I congratulated myself for acting like a total tease.

I got him wrapped nice and tightly around my finger. I didn't plan on doing anything with it, but I could feel myself being pushed in a certain direction by my body. It was different from my desire to be close to Shayla or my jealousy at seeing the boys treating the other girls well. I want to deny it but I can kind of see myself appreciating the look of a handsome guy at this point. And as much as my body might have a mind of its own, wanting me to do something about it, I also felt nauseous and nervous the longer it went.

Feeling awkward about how far it had gone, I ditched him and decided to injecting myself into other conversations. I still didn't feel included, mostly because I didn't have great context for anything or anybody being discussed, but I played along as best I could.

I guess my flirty act must have been successful because Joey ended up following me around throughout the night. He tried to get close to me, put his arms around me, beckon me away from the group, steal a kiss a few times. I let him have a few just to keep him interested, once I realized that turning away as soon as he got his lips near me was probably turning him off. If you let yourself go, it's pretty much the same as kissing a girl. But I think even in my drunk, confused state, I knew just where to draw the line. But the poor kid couldn't sense my disinterest so I just went along with it. Harmless, I think.

It's not really something I'm interested in pursuing at this point in time. But it's useful to know what it feels like so I can watch out for it in the future. But it's nice to be desired, fawned over, pursued.

Once the night chill set in, we moved to the hot tub, others got dried off and went inside. I was personally pretty satisfied with my experience and told Treena we could go if she wanted to. She was all too happy to, but something had put her in a huff. I felt bad if I was responsible, if she felt I had neglected her, but she knew I was there to mingle. So I didn't ask what her problem was and decided to enjoy my nice little buzz the whole ride home, as fireworks burst behind us over water.

I flopped into my cushy, cozy, Queen sized bed (does that mean I can think of myself as a Queen?) and drifted to sleep. But the story doesn't end there. I feel into a deep dream state but my mind was still active. I remember dreams that reflected what I had just been through, but like a funhouse mirror... twisted, with more hands, more touching, warming my whole body. I felt this sudden, deep, irresistible sensation growing inside me before I bolted awake.

I was in shock. I knew, before knowing exactly, just what had happened, but I didn't quite believe it. I felt down to my lower area and confirmed the gushing dampness. I thought maybe I had already gotten my period again, but no that wasn't it.

It was an orgasm. My first female orgasm. And it happened while I was asleep, totally vulnerable, unable to even control or guard myself. I had to Google "Female wet dream" to make sure it was even possible! (It is but rarely that intense apparently!) I felt a little robbed that it didn't even occur while I was fully conscious so I could experience the full scope of it. Just... wham, right? I wasn't even entirely sure what brought it on except my humming hormones being worked up into a frenzy by everyone at the pool. I couldn't even get back to sleep for hours. I felt equal parts embarrassed and excited, and even days later I'm still trying to get over the feeling. I kept wondering if I should pursue another one or leave well enough alone... by the time I decided to try again the moment seemed to have passed and I just exhausted myself getting nowhere.

Curious. But this is clearly just the beginning.