Tyler/Judith: Who is the man, here?

To "seal the deal," as it were, for my new relationship with Kitty, I invited him along to the 30th Anniversary that I had been planning for work for Saturday night. It was fair as planner that I got to bring along a guest, and I wanted him to see me in my element. I got to wear a headset to co-ordinate the servers and cooks and bartenders... not that I'm a micromanager by any means, but it was cool to be able to direct traffic. Looking around at the floral arrangements, the catering, the whole thing ticking like clockwork... I was quite pleased with what I had done for my first effort.

"This is all very impressive," Kitty said, observing the venue. I noticed with a bit of disappointment that he his eyes trailed slightly along with the nubile young female relatives of the happy couple... but then, so did I.

"I know," I said, brushing that away, "Thirty years, who would have thought?"

"I can't remember what Chett and I did for our last big anniversary. Dinner, I guess." There was such a note of sadness, or at least distance, in his voice.

It wasn't an ideal memory to call up - we do sometimes bring up our exes around each other, but not usually when we're in good spirits. I don't talk much about my time before the Inn at all, and even try not to refer to Meg very often (we are on what I think are good terms, for us.)

Other than that, the night was largely a success with great food and plenty of booze. We took a long walk in the cold after getting home.

He seemed very distracted, lost in thought, so I thought I would bring him back down to Earth with a kiss. It seemed to wake him up and we headed home quickly so we could engage in our favourite new hobby. He's getting better. We're getting better at it.

Afterwards, naked and sweaty and cuddling, he asked me if I liked Judith's work.

"Sure," I said. "It's pretty involved, lots of moving parts. Rewarding in its own way, when you get to see the end result."

"A-huh," he said. "I just worry, you know. I make plenty of money for both of us, and... well, Chett was a bit of a workaholic."

"Where are you going with this?"

"I don't know. I like things the way they were. You mostly at home, waiting for me when my day was done. I don't want you to slip away and become a... too much of a career gal."

"Excuse me?" I said, rather offended.

"I just don't want this to become your whole life. I mean, we're out of here in the Spring, right? Why upset the status quo if that was working? I just think if more opportunities like this come up, you should think twice before jumping at the opportunity. We've got a good thing."

I was upset by this - hurt and confused - but I'm doing this new thing where I try not to react right away, and instead of getting angry and violent (not as in hitting, just as in yelling and slamming of doors,) I try to be... calm about it. I think estrogen is a good medicine for that (although not a cure-all by any means!)

"I... listen. I wanted to do this. I was getting bored. I'll be bored again. And there are a lot of upsides. Judith encourages me to help her career path along because it's what she wants to be doing... and it helps us put away a bit more money for our own lives, wherever that takes us. It's win-win."

He considered what I had said but only for a second. "We don't need the money."

I was starting to get flustered. "Well, we're not exactly... you know, I would think you were used to having a bit more."

"What I'm more used to is... a man who works, and a wife who takes care of the home."

Sometimes I think Kitty is even older than her 50-some years. Like she's from my Grandmother's generation. But I guess when you're used to having money, your values stay that way a little longer.

My heart sank a bit. I'm trying to be better, understand, compromise on things. So I admitted that while I may have had a knack for Judith's job, and I didn't really see the harm in increasing my presence there... I would consider her perspective. If it's important enough for her to bring it up, you know. There was still a little bit of Tyler inside of me that really didn't like being told what to do, but the "New Me" is trying to, well, overcome that a bit. I can be a wifey. Sure.

So after that, time passes and things get a bit more routine. I'm learning to swallow my pride and be more co-operative where Kitty is concerned, and play along with this "Housewife" routine, and really, it has its perks. It's hard as a man, a proud man, to admit you don't mind being looked after financially, to take pride in playing Suzie Homemaker, but it's tough work and deserves to be admired.

He's pretty appreciative.

By that I mean he wants to screw, like, all the time. He goes for it just about every night. And it's kind of nice to be in the position where it's up to my whim whether we do or not. It's been a strange few years, with my sex drive being cranked up and down... like I'm sorry to say, even though I do enjoy the rush and the new pleasure of finally exploring this aspect of Judith's body, I just don't... need it that badly (I figure this is just a feature of Judith's body, why I was able to go months without even really thinking about it.) Not that I want him begging for it, just... it's a thing. Sometimes I do it even if I'm not feeling like it, and the results are usually "fine, but need we have bothered?"

Anyway. Before you know it, it's Valentine's Day, and... well, this is his first Valentine's Day as a man. And we realized the Saturday before it that we didn't have any plans. So he asks me what I want to do and I say I don't really care, it's midweek so we're usually pretty tired, and there's Dylan to think about and... well, should we even bother?

And he says of course, we're a couple, we love each other don't we? (I'm still grappling with whether I do or not, but... sure, let's say I do.) We should make a big deal, celebrate "us" and how far we've come. And I say okay, whatever he's up for, I'll do my part: sexy dress, lacey underwear, red lipstick, seduction, the whole nine yards (I'm didn't say as much but that was what I implied) if he works out something for us to do that night. And he turns it around on me and says "Why didn't you plan anything?"

So it's like... excuse me, what's my part here? Am I on the hook for everything because I used to be a man and stereotypically that would have been my job? He was the one who wanted to get into a more traditional husband-wife setup. I don't deserve to be "treated"? What's the rule? What does he want from me? And do I want the same things?

It's not that I don't care about V-tine's Day, I can be as romantic as anyone when I'm really head over heels, but... something about our situation already feels so lived-in and old-shoe comfortable that it didn't occur to me. I'd be happy with a night in, but it seems like that wasn't enough.

Again, instead of making it a big thing, I just kind of sat quietly and pouted about it... and so did he. It was a tense few hours, and then we got over ourselves and made some arrangements, and... it was nice, we left Dyl with Sam and went to a French restaurant (my suggestion as we've handled events there and it has a good reputation - so I guess he got me to plan something after all) He was very lovey-dovey, picked me up some roses and a necklace to wear for the night, and got his seduction, and now things are fine. (I also got him some flowers, which he seemed to enjoy more than I enjoyed mine, and a tie.)

But I've just been racking my brain for a few days since, trying to figure it all out. Nothing's been resolved and I feel like this is going to keep being a problem. It's left a bitter taste in my mouth, but I'm trying to hide it a bit and convince myself it's just an awkward growing phase as we try to figure out exactly how things are supposed to work between us.

If we really do love each other, we can get through it... I'm sure...

-TJ

Tori: Freefall

Friday night, the Boy and I went out for dinner and a walk. He's lived in Philly for a few years without seeing much besides the college campus, so I took him on a bit of a tour, pointing out all my favourite spots to sit and people watch. I had to resist the urge to tell him stories about how I used to spend hours on end walking the city when I first got here - given that I'm technically supposed to be a native to this city - but it did bring back odd memories of being a scared boy-turned-girl looking for... I'm not sure what. Distraction, maybe. Peace of mind, security... stability. A way of looking at this "curse" to make me think it was going to be okay. Something just short of a "why" or a "how," because I knew I wasn't going to get that.

As we walked along, our conversation turned somewhat deep. He talked about his ambitions, his desire to travel, see the world, break out of his shell. I told him I never gave much thought to traveling...I'm a little set in my ways. I didn't dare explain that it was because only five years ago I changed my entire life right down to every cell in my body... that's not really something you talk about on a third date. I did tell him that distance had ruined a relationship for me before, and he added that he wouldn't even think of leaving Philly if he was seeing someone seriously.

I entwined my arm around his.

So there I was, on a cool July evening, dressed in heels and a maybe-too-light dress that lifted just a few inches in the breeze... with a low neckline that he would just have to glance sideways down at me to see all the way down... walking alongside a man, holding close, looking around at buildings but really just wanting to look at him.

I felt good. Not the L-word, per se, but a good kind of nervous and excited that I haven't been for a while, because I feel like I'm finally getting somewhere after dating around and being lonely for too long.

My mind slipped back to the way I was before I ever went to Maine - as it inevitably does from time to time - how I would've been uninterested in male companionship, how I was bad at finding female partners. How much I hated myself and just wished I could be different. And when I did become different, in a way I never anticipated, how quickly things started to change for me. And yes, it took a while to appreciate and even understand the ways it can be good, but right now, just being with someone, male or female, who wants to get to know you and spend time with you... that's a gift.

We can to a stop at a crosswalk, and I turned to him and smile. He smiled back. I wrapped my arms around the back of his neck and leaned in. He leaned over and kissed me. A chill went up my spine.

This is the why. It's not why it happened, but it's why I stopped being upset that it did. This feeling I never had before a few years ago. And while I know from experience that things like this can go away in the blink of an eye, for the moment, I'm feeling great.

I'm still trying to take it slow with him. I'm sure (since I haven't totally forgotten what it's like to be a guy) he'd jump into bed with me tonight if I asked, and part of me wants to do just that and skip the formalities, but I like this phase. Just freefalling into someone's world.

Well, maybe next week ;)

Tori: Houston and Philadelphia

Houston

I wake up at 2 AM. I can feel him breathing on the back of my neck. I remember when we fell asleep, his arm was draped over me but now it's pressed between us. It's hot in our room under the covers. Sweat clings to my body, my chest and between my legs.

Slowly shifting my body weight, I sit up and plant my feet on the floor. Right where they land, my toes catch, tossed carelessly at the bedside, the panties I'd had on earlier. I slip them over my legs and feel the elastic over my hips. Aside from that, I'm naked, folding my arms across my breasts to keep them steady as I stand and step softly across the room, sneaking out the door.

In the main sitting area there's a seat by the window. I open it a crack and stare out at the lights of the Houston cityscape. I pretend it's not too dark and I'm not too high up for someone to look in and see me sitting, curled up, half-naked. The scenery is beautiful. I can't sleep.

I made such a mess of my interview, I don't even want to relive it by explaining how. I came off as cocky, but when asked for more detailed solutions to example situations, I stammered and second-guessed myself. I kept my composure, but when I walked out of the office feeling like breaking down and crying. I felt like a lie for the first time in years, dressed like a smart, confident woman when inside I'm still just a kid.

I comforted myself with Buddy. I dressed in the shortest skirt I have and the lowest-cut top, and made a lasagna for him when he came home. I tried to imagine myself playing house for a while, staying with him in Houston and finding something else to do with my life. I tried to imagine being that in love with someone. Make that sacrifice. I was going to tell him over dinner that I didn't think I'd be getting the job, but instead I said the interview went fine and we'd see.

I took him to the bedroom. I didn't want to talk. I didn't want to sit quietly in front of the TV. I wanted to fuck. If I've got nothing in this life, no career opportunity, nobody I feel I can be honest with, I've at least got a body and I know he likes that. I know he likes me for a lot more than that, but I wasn't interested in talking about seeing the Thor movie.

It was wild, and physical, but brief and ultimately disappointing. After he came, I let him drift off to sleep and quietly began to pleasure myself under the covers. I'm sure in his sleep he heard me moan, but he didn't wake. I've been doing this long enough I know how to make myself come, and I wish he'd learn. He's done it before but it was more like a coincidence, and with a lot of prep time behind it. For a brief instant, as I shudder with orgasm, struggling to keep my legs from shaking and kicking him, I think I should bring him to Maine and let him be a girl for a while. It might be good for him. Fortunately, I know these are just the thoughts of a frustrated, sleepy mind, and I don't think anything of it. I finally fall asleep around 11. Oftentimes at this hour back in Philly, Raine and I are just deciding what to do.

At 2, though, I'm sitting at the window, which is opened a crack, feeling a cool breeze between my breasts. I know, in reality, the answer isn't in Maine. And I don't think it's in Houston anymore either.

By the time I left, all the doubts in my mind had solidified into certainties. Certainty that I didn't belong in Houston, that I didn't belong with Buddy. That whatever I was capable of, I deserved more than a guy who is constantly trying to push me just to go along with him, clinging to me because he doesn't think he can get any better. He deserves someone who wants him a lot more than I do, now.

For the rest of the stay, I was quiet and distant. I couldn't bring myself to pull the trigger, though, to tell him it was over. I don't know how. I was hoping he'd notice, but he'd just keep asking what's wrong and I'd keep telling him "nothing." I feel like I need to prepare, like I need there to be a reason other than "we've grown apart." But whatever happens, it's not going to be fair for him and I know deep down I can't avoid hurting him.

When we said goodbye, I still hadn't heard back from the job. I needed to go back to Philly and go back to my real job, helping businesswomen pick suits that make them look confident and feminine.

Philadelphia

When I landed in Philadelphia, there was a message on my phone saying if I wanted it, the job was mine.

I was so close to accepting. A job is a job and it shouldn't have anything to do with my relationship. My mind kept pushing me back to Houston, saying I could either try to make it work with Buddy, or I could take the job and just end the relationship when it got unbearable.

"Before you say yes, there's something you should know," Alex told me when I met him for lunch the next day. My heart jumped. Maybe I've become such a girl that I expected him to make a big speech saying he was in love with me, despite his complicated past, and knew he was the right one for me and I shouldn't move to Houston for Buddy, I should stay in Philly for him. That he needed me and that he could make me happier.

But that's not what he said. What he said was almost as good. "There's an opening at my company -- the people who paid me to take the course, they need more people. I could recommend you. You'd be a shoe in. It wouldn't be IT, but it would be a real job. You wouldn't have to move or anything."

He knows I have my doubts about Buddy. He supported me in the past but now he's trying to get me to stay. I squirmed in my seat and turned it over in my mind. The choices were clear-cut: Buddy and Houston, or Alex and Philly?

I held the phone in my hand for twenty minutes that night, just trying to dial Buddy's number. Trying to psych myself into it. I could barely breathe as I put the phone to my ear and heard it ringing.

It was voicemail.

With my voice trembling, I told him to call me back, I had to talk to him. It didn't seem right that it would end this way, but it was the only way now.

I had fallen into a nap on my bed when the phone began to vibrate. I saw it was him and answered. "Hey Buddy." Lately I've been calling him that instead of baby or honey or anything.

"Vic, what's up, babe?"

Quietly and without much hesitation, I told him, "I'm not getting the job."

"It's okay, it's okay," he went into his prepared remarks, "We'll find something. You're still coming here, right?"

I took my time answering. "No."

"No? but what about... what will you..."

"Alex told me he could get me a job. I want to stay here, Buddy."

"Alex? Goddamnit, Tori." When I first met Alex I made the mistake of gushing about him to Buddy, and he became (rightly) paranoid. I think this may have been why he kept trying to pull me in to Houston.

At this point, I guess, Buddy realized he was losing it and just let off. He accused me of being a cheater, an unstable, immature, indecisive, man-hungry bitch, and a liar. I just sat there and listened to all these epithets and rants and realized what kind of a person I had been dealing with.

"We're done, Buddy."

"Yeah," he said bitterly. "I guess we are."

Click.

And that was it. I spent the rest of May trying to decide if I was upset about this, or if I was happy it was over, or if I felt anything anymore. I met Alex's boss and got a job basically being the "Tech bitch" at the shipping company where he works.

So that's where I'm at now. Sorry I took so long to tell you, but I went from being too depressed to post to too busy.

I'll tell you more of what's happened as soon as I can. Thanks to Alia and Todd, my "writing coaches" for helping me organize all these thoughts. You're the best.

Love, Victoria Pearce.

Tori: I'm not so great with romance but...

He left on Sunday the 13th, so we had to figure out something Valentines-y to do before that. We decided Friday the 11th would be "our night."

He wanted to make it all about me -- flowers, chocolates, all that stuff. I told him I really wasn't in it for the Hallmark stuff. He said he had a "pretty good idea" what my gift to him was (and he wasn't wrong) so he wanted to turn up the romance in anticipation. So when I got home from my shift at the shop, he had this whole Shrimp Alfredo meal made up. I didn't even know he could cook! Mostly when he was living out of a hotel, we were going out to eat all the time. He said in had come in handy when he was a single guy, and I nearly told him I was the same way... that could've been awkward. It's so rare I even think about stuff from my old life unless I'm sitting here writing on the blog.

I led him to the bedroom and told him to get comfortable. He noticed there were candles all around, and I pointed out that yeah, while I'm not "about" the Hallmark stuff, I still like a nice mood. Maybe that's me being girly. He says it's why he likes me. I tell him to wait while I "prepare" things.

When I came back to the door, I was dressed in a tight, tight miniskirt that makes my ass look amazing, nylons, a blouse, and high heels. He's always said how much he goes for that look, and I rarely have a chance to put it on for him. He sat up when he saw how I was dressed. Then he saw what I had hidden behind me... a pair of handcuffs.

Okay, that's not the kind of thing you just spring on a guy. But one weekend while we were in New York, we went into a sex shop for a laugh, and while I was marveling at vibrators, I noticed him handling set of cuffs in a more-than-curious way. I even asked him, and he said he thought they were "neat." So I bought a pair... for a special occasion. He asked me what I was thinking. I told him he could have a choice: freedom... or chains. I don't know why, but I really thought he was going to pick freedom. Luckily, I was hoping he wouldn't.

So I cuffed him to the headboard, and slowly, slowly began to work him over. I ran my hands up his thighs. I rubbed my breasts against him. Softly ran my tongue all over him... made him watch as I slowly undressed, pulled down my stockings, unbuttoned my blouse, slipped my bra off, one strap after the other, and crawled over to him... I could tell he was suffering such intense agony, such lust, he couldn't control himself. When I decided he was finally ready, I got really busy.

It must've been painful for him. I've never been in that situation, but I can imagine what it's like to have a woman there, teasing you, working over every inch of your body, when all you want to do is get inside and fuck her-- and honestly, it was hard to restrain myself from just climbing on and rocking him senseless, but I needed to go slow. I needed to take every second I could with him because it might be a while before we get to go again. So I felt every inch of his skin, rubbed every muscle he had, made him moan and groan and beg me for mercy. I made him watch while I touched myself, warmed my body up for him, and then finally, after I felt I could do no more... I was ready to get started.

Given the circumstances, I guess I can't blame him for not lasting very long. He's usually pretty good but I'd be lying if I said he was an hour-long type of guy. He's usually only good for a good ten, fifteen minutes tops. Here, with all the extra stuff, by the time we got to the nitty gritty, he was about ready to explode anyway. Maybe I was expecting too much; I know how little control guys have over their stuff, but, I don't know, maybe I had mentally convinced myself he could tough it out.

Anyway, it was good. I know we both enjoyed it. But he was real quiet afterward, like, I guess he didn't like the handcuffs so much after all, or I had overdone it with the pregame. He wouldn't talk to me about it. Men can be so tough when something's bothering them. The few women I ever dated were always very open -- perhaps too much so. I just want a happy medium. Ultimately, it was a pretty awkward way for us to leave off. We've talked a bunch since he got to Texas, but he hasn't mentioned it, so I guess the topic is dead.

Anyway, he's gone now, so that leaves me alone for my day to day life. Days I'm in class, evenings I work at the shop selling skirts and tops and panties and whatnot. Pretending I know how to offer fashion advice. I'll tell you more about that later. Raine and I are gonna go watch Life As We Know It and make fun of it.

Just another Saturday night, I suppose...