I'm kind of hesitant about posting this entry, because It's pretty private and I'm a little embarrassed about it, even though it isn't really anything to be embarrassed about. I've decided to go ahead and share because similar posts from previous inn-victims were helpful to me, and if anything these posts could be useful for any future men who find themselves as women.
We need to begin in late September, when I was able to get off work early and go to one of Ashley's cross country meets. Most meets are either around local high schools or a course through various parks near to the high school, and whenever Ashley was running in one that was in reasonable driving distance, I made an effort to make it. Cross country isn't exactly the most attended sport, and women's athletics in general don't get the attention that they deserve so most of the people watching around the race-course tend to be family and friends of the runners and I didn't want Ashley to be one of the only kids there with no one to support her, so I would let the office phone go to voicemail and duck out around 4 pm to make it there.
So there I was in some park in nearby Warren standing on the side of the race-course with a cup of gatorade to hand Ashley as she ran by when one of the other spectators decided to chat me up. He was tall, I think, since most men are tall compared to me now, well built, and had one of those strong faces that made it so that he could pull off being bald without looking dumb or creepy.
"Which school are you here for?" He asked casually (Cross country meets have all the schools in the conference running against each other at the same time.
"Trenton-Ford" I say, noticing that he was wearing a sweat shirt with the school's logo on it
"Oh yeah?" He sounded surprised "You didn't go there did you, I would have remembered going to high school with you, you'd stand out"
"No, I went to Eastpointe" I say, glad that I had had the foresight to look at Kari's yearbook that one time "So who are you here for, or are you just a big supporter of your Alma Mater?"
"Keisha Powers" he said proudly naming one of the better runners on the team "She's my little sister. How about you?"
"Ashley Cruz" I tell him as some runners ran by, one of them taking my gatorade.
"Oh the new girl" he says, clearly a close follower of the team "Is she your sister, cousin,?"
"Daughter" I said. I poured another paper cup of gatorade during the pause. It was a pause I was used to getting. Ashley is 30 years old and looks younger than that. Every time I tell someone, especially men, that I've got a teenage daughter there's usually a pause while they do the mental math. Its often followed by a judgmental look for a polite "oh" as they realize that Kari was a really young teenage mother. Neither came from this guy, which was refreshing.
"I'm Darius, by the way" he said as he extended his seemingly giant hand
"Kari" I replied with a smile.
"How long has she been running" he asked
"About six weeks. I told her she needed an activity so she chose this one."
"Smart move" he nodded "I was a runner too, its great discipline and exercise. Were you a runner back in high school?"
"Nope, I was more into baseball" I said without thinking because another runner had snatched the gatorade "I like watching it" I corrected when he was wondering how a girl had made the baseball team.
This led to a casual chat about the Tigers and various other things peppered with compliments on my looks, and a few about my personality. He laughed at things that I said, even a few that weren't very funny. It was clear he was flirting, I deal with flirting on a daily basis. Every man that comes into the office spends a few seconds smiling and trying to either compliment me or impress me. I've also been out to clubs and bars as a single woman, as well as spent a couple of decades as a man.
The thing is, unlike most of the time when it's annoying, I didn't mind it from Darius. Perhaps because he was good at it. He casually talked himself and complimented me while seeming truly interested. I didn't hurt that he was cute and my body is full of hormones that recognized that.
Eventually Ashley passed by with some of the last runners and we moved to the finish line. He stayed and chatted the entire time despite Keisha finishing way earlier.
************************
Fast forward to Monday evening when I was picking up some of Ashley's school papers I came across a flier that was information for the Fall Sports awards banquet, and apparently Ashley was getting an award. This came as a surprise to me, because despite never missing practice and trying her hardest...Ashley isn't exactly good at cross country. I don't think she finished better than fourth-from-last once the entire season. The bigger surprise was that it was that coming Saturday and this was the first I'd heard of it.
"Did you know you're awards banquet is Saturday?" I asked as I placed the flier down in front of her
"Oh yeah" she shrugged barely looking up from her phone
"So we're you going to tell me so I could prepare for it?" I said, realizing just how much of a mom I could sound like sometimes
"It's on a Saturday" she said "You usually go out with Aunt Rosita on Saturdays. It's not a big deal"
"It kinda is" I said encouragingly "You're getting an award!"
"Most improved or something like that" she explained "It's not a real award"
"Yes it is" I affirmed "Your coaches and teammates saw how much you tried and felt that it deserved a reward. You'd be insulting them if we didn't show up to accept it."
"So you really wanna go?" She asked surprised
"Of course" I exclaimed, simultaneously proud of her and a little sad that she had such low expectations from her mother.
"Can Dad come?" She added
This brings us back to the end of my last post. Kari called me back a couple of days later, she never picks up when I call. I don't know if its because she doesn't want to "break character" on the fly or if her new job is really busy but usually I text or call and get a call back.
"What's the deal with Ashley's dad?" I asked carefully
"Oh God, what does he want?" came the response
"Nothing" I said worried "I ran into him at a party and I wanted to know if there was anything wrong with him, like should he be kept away from Ashley"
"He's an asshole and a loser" she spat
"But like, does he use drugs or crime or anything terrible. Should I tell Ashley not to be around him?" I repeated
"If you want to deal with his bullshit, that's on you" she said "But don't get his hopes up for when I'm back. I gotta go, don't call me unless it's really important"
That last part was a bit troubling, because you'd think someone would more than happy to help their old self, but I'll worry about that later. My take from the whole thing is that Darrin isn't really a BAD guy per se, Kari just doesn't like him. I can understand why, he did get her pregnant at a young age and derailed her entire life and never stepped up as a parent leaving her to do it by herself. It's an understandable level of hurt but I personally don't have anything against that guy and he does still talk to his daughter on a regular basis. Besides, it isn't really about what I wanted or what Kari wanted. Ashley ran probably more than 100 miles this year and if she wants her dad to see her get an award for it, she can have it.
So Saturday night shows up and I'm wearing a blue dress that is pretty modest for being in Kari's closet and Ashley got a new green one because I let her use the credit card because I was a couple months ahead on it. The awards banquet was held in the school cafeteria and all the guests were seated at tables facing a stage that had been set up along one of the walls. There were about two or three families per table depending on how many people were in each party.
Ashley had strategically sat between me and Darrin, despite my acquiescence to him coming she was still on eggshells a bit, lord knows what kind of fights she'd seen growing up. Sitting at the same table was us was Keisha Powers and her family, a middle aged couple who were her parents and her extra supportive older brother, Darius, who was seated to my left.
I was glad for that initially, since we had some stuff in common and I knew that he could carry a conversation it would be good to have someone to chat with quietly during the ceremony because these things can drag on a bit, especially the parts that aren't about your kid's sport. Darius, as he did last time, began casually flirting and like last time I didn't react negatively in fact I took it a step further.
I flirted back.
Its not like I was TRYING to, but I definitely wasn't trying not to. Little things like giggling, lightly touching his forearm, at one point I leaned my head on my hand and cocked it toward him, smiling uncontrollably. What's strange is that the whole time I knew what I was doing but didn't care. In my alcohol infused nights-out with Rosita I found myself doing similar things due to lower inhibitions but there was no booze that night. I was flirting with a guy that despite every objection from my heterosexual male brain, my heterosexual female body found quite attractive. I think Darrin could tell because he was visibly uncomfortable watching his ex flirt with another guy in such close proximity.
Darius could tell too, as the night went on he kept getting this look of confident self-satisfaction. Finally Keisha got her MVP award and Ashley got her Most Improved Player award and after dozens of photos that Ashely was blushing in we headed home. In the car Ashley and I got to talking, which is where we do a lot of talking, just us in an enclosed space, and she asked me. "Do you like Keisha's brother?"
Was I that obvious. "He's very nice, we had a lot in common"
"Yeah, because you're TOTALLY into baseball" she said sarcastically "Just don't do anything to make it awkward for me, like you did with Paula's dad. Or Mr. Bennent"
I made a mental note to find out those two men were, but assumed they were guys Kari had dated who had kids Ashley's age.
When we got home I went to the bedroom and locked the door tight. I knew what I needed to do. I became Kari in mid-June, and it was November. That's five months. In five months I'd never...explored. I'm not naive enough to think that girls don't do that, or that I was still so uncomfortable in my body that I was afraid of that area, heck I figured out tampons relatively easily. I'd touched, and occasionally stroked but always chickened out shortly after the first tingling of pleasure came. Either out of guilt or the fact that Ashely was usually a couple rooms away.
I knew I couldn't put it off any longer though. My behavior that night was caused by a built up stream of female horniness that hadn't been taken care of in at least 5 months. I can't imagine going that long as a man, but as a woman the signs are less evident and glaring. Checking once again that the bedroom door was locked I took off my dress and laid back on the bed. Maybe I hadn't fully committed to finishing that time but after enough over the panties rubbing I was a woman possessed. It was like my brain was making all these unknown connections to very sensitive nerve endings and all I could do was keep going because I wanted...I needed more.
After getting as close as I could get with my fingers I opened up the bottom dresser drawer and pulled out "The Intimidator". That's the nickname I gave to that thing when I first found it. It's way bigger and wider than I was in my old body and it looks even bigger from the perspective of this one. Luckily the batteries still worked.
I don't know how to adequately describe how different it felt other than...full? Like the sensations are similar, they're just coming from entirely different places, and they take a whole lot longer to get there but they last a lot longer. The strangest part was all the involuntary movement. Not just the contracting of muscles I didn't usually have, but also the arching of the back and the grinding of the hips. The weirdest was the moaning. I knew Ashley was in the next room and I was trying to be quiet but as I got closer and closer I got louder and louder until I finally had to hold a pillow over my face.
Finally it was over, but not in an instant. All the slow buildup came with a slow come down, and I just lay there breathing heavily with the soft hum in between my legs. I remembered to put it away before climbing into bed and sleeping the soundest sleep I could remember since becoming Kari.
I woke up refreshed, and have been that way since. I'm still a little embarrassed about it, it was hard to write this without blushing a little bit. I feel like a 13 year old girl writing in her diary after she discovers herself. I don't regret doing it though, it's good to know that I can relieve stress like that. I do regret waiting this long to try.
Tuesday, November 17, 2015
Saturday, November 07, 2015
Lane/Kari: Two Holidays, Two Surprises
In my free time, which is a lot less abundant than I'd like it to be, I read the archives of this blog. There are a ridiculous amount of posts spanning almost 10 years. Most of them are day to day diaries and of little useful information to me, but it's still the most concise volume of data on people who have been magically transformed into someone else that exists (Although apparently Arthur/Liz/Penny has capitalized on the idea and turned it into a semi-recognizable book series). I'm somewhere in the middle of 2010 but there seems to be a constant among every author who had their gender changed: a Halloween entry.
It makes sense really, Holidays are notable times and slightly different in everyone's lives. Some people didn't turn into Christmas celebrating people and there are a disproportionate amount of Canadians to make the Thanksgivings not match up. Either way, those Holidays are or can be mostly the same if you're a man and a woman. Halloween, for grownups at least these days, isn't. There are half a dozen posts here about men who used to ogle women's sexy costumes now finding themselves squeeze into sexy costumes and blogging about the experience.
I'm not going to get too much into it, since in a way I kind of already did. I'm actually glad Kari made me dress up and go out drinking with her friends. For some women putting on ultra revealing clothing and being objectified is a once a year holiday, for Kari it's Saturday.
I resigned to the fact that whatever plan's Rosita had made for us, she wasn't going to let me out of the house without anything below my mid thigh. So I let her pick out my costume. She showed up around 6 right after Ashley left for her party dressed like Little Red Riding hood wearing a knee length skirt (You can argue whether or not revealing costumes are demeaning on empowering all you want, she's 16 so I wasn't going to let her out in a pair of short shorts like she had planned). Rosita had decided that for Halloween that I would be a Cheetah and she would be a leopard. This costume consisted of a pair of skin tight cheetah print leggings that were surprisingly warm but I had to keep pulling out of my asscrack before I realized that was how they were supposed to fit, a cheetah print cami that required a strapless bra and constant vigilance to keep my boobs popping out the top and my stomach popping out the bottom. Add in a store bought pair of cat ears and some whisker makeup and RAWR, I was a cheetah.
I let Rosita do the driving because we didn't head into the city, just another part of Trenton. Apparently we were going to a house party hosted by some of their friends from high school. I was less than enthusiastic about this, and not only because it meant I'd be surrounded by people who had known Kari for a long time.
You never realize how lame high school parties were until you go to college. Then usually around Thanksgiving of your freshman year you comeback home and realize that partying with friends from high school who didn't go to college is still pretty lame. I grew up in central New Jersey and left to go to college up at Syracuse. When I came back some of my high school friends had a get together and...it just seemed as if I had passed them by. I know that sounds snobby and stuck up of me, especially considering the fact that our college parties weren't very sophisticated, it was just that I'd grown apart from them. That's true today, I talk to maybe 3 people from high school and most of my friends I know from college or work. So regardless of the fact that I was living the life of a dropout, this was the kind of party I avoided when I went back to visit my real parents. Except instead everyone is in their late 20s at least.
Aaron and Monica were the couple hosting the party, apparently they were one of those rare high school couples that stuck together. When we pulled up and walked to the door I was greeted with a "Oh My God, Kari! I didn't know you were coming I haven't seen you in so long" followed by a girl greeting hug that I'm starting to get used to. As we were handed cups for the keg Monica pulled me aside and said "Really, I am glad you're here but we didn't know you we're coming and Darrin is here, I thought I should give you fair warning." So right off the bat I was confronted by someone or some event from Kari's past that I had no clue about it so I just "There won't be any problem" calmly "I don't have any issues with him." Which was true. I didn't.
So we had a few beers, caught up with old friends. I BSed my way through things mostly because none of these people had seen Kari in months so conversations were of the catch-up variety. I told them about work, about Ashely, about the fun things me and Rosita did on weekends, it seemed to work on an inebriated crowd. I made a point to tell every woman I spoke to that she looked great, even though in a lot of cases it wasn't true. I've got a fat ass but this body looks pretty nice for one that's had a kid, age and a partying lifestyle haven't been kind to some of Kari's classmates. There were a lot of reminiscing stories about school, loud singing to songs on the sound system (People in this town sure do love Kid Rock), and a few guys tried to flirt with me. One guy kept telling me about he got a job working for GM, which is actually a pretty good paying job with benefits, but it also wasn't going to work on a girl who was very male on the inside.
Slightly after midnight after the crowd had dwindled down I headed into the kitchen where the keg was to get a refill when I surprised the other person who was there. He was dressed like a Michigan football player with a slightly receding hairline and a beer gut pushing out his number 20 jersey. He was dead silent when he saw me so I gave him a quick "Hey".
"Hey" he said back with a nervous tone "I wasn't told you were going to be here" he said almost apologetically that made me realize that this was Darrin.
Feeling nice and buzzed and nowhere near up to feigning whatever drama might exist between him and Kari I made the small talk but let him do most of the talking, letting him tell me about how he moved out of his parents house and was working at a convenient store. After a few minutes I said "Cool" and headed out with my beer.
When the night was over both me and Rosita were plastered but I was able to talk her out of driving and we hitched a ride home with their very nice and very cool friend Ali who didn't drink at all and had a van. I made it to the bedroom this time, but didn't bother changing out of my costume witch resulted in another Sunday morning wakeup from Ashley holding a hangover cure and a slightly justified pointing out of how it was a bit hypocritical for me to criticize her costume considering mine.
********************************
I was at work Monday morning when I got a phone call. Technically as the receptionist I get all the phone calls but this one was a very stern sounding man asking for Ms. Karina Cruz. Full name meant it wasn't a friend so I switched from "Friendly receptionist voice" to "Serious business voice" and said "This is she" still having to remember to use the correct pronoun.
"Ms. Cruz this is the Attendance Office at Gerald Ford High School, we're calling because Ashely isn't in class today"
Now, what I did was questionable parenting but I had my logic. "Oh, I'm sorry. She wasn't feeling well so she stayed home. I must have forgotten to call."
"That's alright Ms. Cruz, we'll mark her as excused absent and she can make up her work when she gets back. I hope she's feeling better soon."
Now, the reason I let her get away with it is because in the likely event that Ashely had decided to play hooky, an unexcused absence would have led to missed assignments and her grades are improving. I could deal with the hooky on my own. In the event that she WAS in trouble or missing I would have called the cops and had to deal with way bigger things than an attendance office.
That was a grim thought but it did cross my mind as I pulled out the cell phone and called Ashely. Thankfully she answered after the first ring.
"Where are you?" I asked sounding relieved
"I'm at Abuela's. She picked me up and we're cooking. What time are you coming over tonight after work?" Her tone was as if I should have expected her to be off school and then it hit me.
November 2nd. Dia de Los Muertos, or Day of the Dead to those of you that never took high school Spanish. A bit of a big deal in Mexico. I didn't realize it was coming up since I wasn't raised Mexican and when I was younger it wasn't a day that the Latino kids took off school anyway. My thinking is that Ashley doesn't like going to school so a day off spent with her grandmother learning about her cultural heritage was fine by me.
My issue was that meant I would have to bite the bullet and meet Kari's parents. I can manage my way through interacting with her co-workers and Rosita is usually not lucid long enough to notice a difference when we go out, but her family is another story. Ashley can tell that something is different, she's almost as said as much a couple of times, but she's a brooding teenager and feigns apathy even if she doesn't have it. Parents should be able to tell, my hope was that the Inn's voodoo would prevent them from thinking too much about it. Either way I did a little Facebook digging the rest of the day to figure out her parents' names and address.
I'm actually surprised it took me almost 5 months to meet or speak to the parents, since Eduardo and Pilar Cruz live in Trenton, albeit across town. I stopped by Kari's place on the way there, since the low cut top and short skirt I had worn to work didn't seem like they were a good way to honor Kari's dead ancestors. I walked up to the well kept house in a working class neighborhood and rang the doorbell. A short bald man with a thick gray mustache gave me a confused look and then a great big hug.
"Why did you ring the doorbell, Mija?" He asked "Did you lose your key?"
I had thought that Kari may or may not have had access to the house she grew up in, but it still feels weird walking into places that are unfamiliar, even if they aren't supposed to be.
"Left it at home" I say giving him a tight hug back and following him inside.
"Your mama and Ashley are in the kitchen" he said, and I just followed my nose to find Ashley and a short, slightly overweight woman in her earl 50s with a bit of gray in her hair sitting around the table drinking hot chocolate and talking. Once I was spotted another hug ensued. I don't know if being a girl means you get hugged more or if its just a feature of Kari's live, but my boobs are squeezing into another person at least twice a day.
It turns out Dia de Los Muertos isn't a solemn ritual in the Cruz casa but rather a cultural tradition and a reason to have a family dinner. Ashley and Pilar had made and painted sugar skulls, which contrary to my thinking you do not eat because 1. They're for the spirits of the dead and 2. They do not taste very good. They also had set up an ofrenda which is a little altar with photos of their dead relatives and candles in front of them. I went ahead and lit one for Kari's dead grandmother. I don't know if I was supposed to say a prayer or not, but thinking about religion these days is a bit weird for me.
Then we had dinner. And the food...wow. Pilar is an amazing cook. If I ate her cooking every day with this new body and metabolism I'd gain 50 lbs by the time I went back to Maine. It wasn't Mexican food like most people think of, that's really Tex-Mex. This was authentic stuff. Tamales, Tortilla Soup, Flautas which are like Taquitos but somehow even better, delicious cheesy beans and rice, and these amazing pork tips called carnitas.
Dinner was like most family dinners, but it seemed like there was less drama. I don't come from an unhappy home or anything but the Van Hoekstra's aren't the biggest huggers and there's always some underlying tension at Thanksgiving or Christmas. If I had had a kid when I was 14 years old, there would be judgement and snide remarks for the rest of my life. Nothing doing here. Pilar and Eduardo seemed overjoyed that their daughter and granddaughter were there for dinner. I was actually grateful Ashley was there too, because since she didn't speak Spanish that meant English around the dinner table and I didn't have to explain my sudden monolingual-ism .
So yeah, surprise holiday which turned out to be great. But my title says two surprises and the second one came on the way home.
Loaded up with leftover Ashley and I were making casual mother daughter small talk when she hits me with.
"Dad says you saw him at the party Saturday and didn't even yell at him."
Yep.
Darrin Ellis, the balding convenience store clerk dressed like a football player? That's Ashley's dad. That explains the Anglo first name as well as the fact that despite being in the sun all day she's not as tan as I am. I knew she must have had a father, somewhere in the world, but I wasn't in a big hurry to track him down. He never called, visited, or you know, sent a child support check, but it turns out he's here in town. I was the teensiest bit relieved because I had this strange paranoia in the back of my mind that even though the date's and ages don't match up AT ALL that Latherman might actually be her father.
"Yeah, he was there" I say casually "I wasn't in the mood for a fight so we said a few words and left it like that"
"Does that mean he and I can do things more?" she asked with a hint of hope that made my heart almost melt.
But I knew this was shaky ground. I'm not the kind of person to keep a man from seeing his kids for no reason, but I don't know if there is a reason or not. I don't know if Kari keeps him away out of spite or if he has drinking or drug issues or is violent or is a criminal or what.
"We'll see" I say, repeating the line that as a teenager had driven me insane so many times. But I meant it. I'm going to have to find out more about this situation.
-Lane
It makes sense really, Holidays are notable times and slightly different in everyone's lives. Some people didn't turn into Christmas celebrating people and there are a disproportionate amount of Canadians to make the Thanksgivings not match up. Either way, those Holidays are or can be mostly the same if you're a man and a woman. Halloween, for grownups at least these days, isn't. There are half a dozen posts here about men who used to ogle women's sexy costumes now finding themselves squeeze into sexy costumes and blogging about the experience.
I'm not going to get too much into it, since in a way I kind of already did. I'm actually glad Kari made me dress up and go out drinking with her friends. For some women putting on ultra revealing clothing and being objectified is a once a year holiday, for Kari it's Saturday.
I resigned to the fact that whatever plan's Rosita had made for us, she wasn't going to let me out of the house without anything below my mid thigh. So I let her pick out my costume. She showed up around 6 right after Ashley left for her party dressed like Little Red Riding hood wearing a knee length skirt (You can argue whether or not revealing costumes are demeaning on empowering all you want, she's 16 so I wasn't going to let her out in a pair of short shorts like she had planned). Rosita had decided that for Halloween that I would be a Cheetah and she would be a leopard. This costume consisted of a pair of skin tight cheetah print leggings that were surprisingly warm but I had to keep pulling out of my asscrack before I realized that was how they were supposed to fit, a cheetah print cami that required a strapless bra and constant vigilance to keep my boobs popping out the top and my stomach popping out the bottom. Add in a store bought pair of cat ears and some whisker makeup and RAWR, I was a cheetah.
I let Rosita do the driving because we didn't head into the city, just another part of Trenton. Apparently we were going to a house party hosted by some of their friends from high school. I was less than enthusiastic about this, and not only because it meant I'd be surrounded by people who had known Kari for a long time.
You never realize how lame high school parties were until you go to college. Then usually around Thanksgiving of your freshman year you comeback home and realize that partying with friends from high school who didn't go to college is still pretty lame. I grew up in central New Jersey and left to go to college up at Syracuse. When I came back some of my high school friends had a get together and...it just seemed as if I had passed them by. I know that sounds snobby and stuck up of me, especially considering the fact that our college parties weren't very sophisticated, it was just that I'd grown apart from them. That's true today, I talk to maybe 3 people from high school and most of my friends I know from college or work. So regardless of the fact that I was living the life of a dropout, this was the kind of party I avoided when I went back to visit my real parents. Except instead everyone is in their late 20s at least.
Aaron and Monica were the couple hosting the party, apparently they were one of those rare high school couples that stuck together. When we pulled up and walked to the door I was greeted with a "Oh My God, Kari! I didn't know you were coming I haven't seen you in so long" followed by a girl greeting hug that I'm starting to get used to. As we were handed cups for the keg Monica pulled me aside and said "Really, I am glad you're here but we didn't know you we're coming and Darrin is here, I thought I should give you fair warning." So right off the bat I was confronted by someone or some event from Kari's past that I had no clue about it so I just "There won't be any problem" calmly "I don't have any issues with him." Which was true. I didn't.
So we had a few beers, caught up with old friends. I BSed my way through things mostly because none of these people had seen Kari in months so conversations were of the catch-up variety. I told them about work, about Ashely, about the fun things me and Rosita did on weekends, it seemed to work on an inebriated crowd. I made a point to tell every woman I spoke to that she looked great, even though in a lot of cases it wasn't true. I've got a fat ass but this body looks pretty nice for one that's had a kid, age and a partying lifestyle haven't been kind to some of Kari's classmates. There were a lot of reminiscing stories about school, loud singing to songs on the sound system (People in this town sure do love Kid Rock), and a few guys tried to flirt with me. One guy kept telling me about he got a job working for GM, which is actually a pretty good paying job with benefits, but it also wasn't going to work on a girl who was very male on the inside.
Slightly after midnight after the crowd had dwindled down I headed into the kitchen where the keg was to get a refill when I surprised the other person who was there. He was dressed like a Michigan football player with a slightly receding hairline and a beer gut pushing out his number 20 jersey. He was dead silent when he saw me so I gave him a quick "Hey".
"Hey" he said back with a nervous tone "I wasn't told you were going to be here" he said almost apologetically that made me realize that this was Darrin.
Feeling nice and buzzed and nowhere near up to feigning whatever drama might exist between him and Kari I made the small talk but let him do most of the talking, letting him tell me about how he moved out of his parents house and was working at a convenient store. After a few minutes I said "Cool" and headed out with my beer.
When the night was over both me and Rosita were plastered but I was able to talk her out of driving and we hitched a ride home with their very nice and very cool friend Ali who didn't drink at all and had a van. I made it to the bedroom this time, but didn't bother changing out of my costume witch resulted in another Sunday morning wakeup from Ashley holding a hangover cure and a slightly justified pointing out of how it was a bit hypocritical for me to criticize her costume considering mine.
********************************
I was at work Monday morning when I got a phone call. Technically as the receptionist I get all the phone calls but this one was a very stern sounding man asking for Ms. Karina Cruz. Full name meant it wasn't a friend so I switched from "Friendly receptionist voice" to "Serious business voice" and said "This is she" still having to remember to use the correct pronoun.
"Ms. Cruz this is the Attendance Office at Gerald Ford High School, we're calling because Ashely isn't in class today"
Now, what I did was questionable parenting but I had my logic. "Oh, I'm sorry. She wasn't feeling well so she stayed home. I must have forgotten to call."
"That's alright Ms. Cruz, we'll mark her as excused absent and she can make up her work when she gets back. I hope she's feeling better soon."
Now, the reason I let her get away with it is because in the likely event that Ashely had decided to play hooky, an unexcused absence would have led to missed assignments and her grades are improving. I could deal with the hooky on my own. In the event that she WAS in trouble or missing I would have called the cops and had to deal with way bigger things than an attendance office.
That was a grim thought but it did cross my mind as I pulled out the cell phone and called Ashely. Thankfully she answered after the first ring.
"Where are you?" I asked sounding relieved
"I'm at Abuela's. She picked me up and we're cooking. What time are you coming over tonight after work?" Her tone was as if I should have expected her to be off school and then it hit me.
November 2nd. Dia de Los Muertos, or Day of the Dead to those of you that never took high school Spanish. A bit of a big deal in Mexico. I didn't realize it was coming up since I wasn't raised Mexican and when I was younger it wasn't a day that the Latino kids took off school anyway. My thinking is that Ashley doesn't like going to school so a day off spent with her grandmother learning about her cultural heritage was fine by me.
My issue was that meant I would have to bite the bullet and meet Kari's parents. I can manage my way through interacting with her co-workers and Rosita is usually not lucid long enough to notice a difference when we go out, but her family is another story. Ashley can tell that something is different, she's almost as said as much a couple of times, but she's a brooding teenager and feigns apathy even if she doesn't have it. Parents should be able to tell, my hope was that the Inn's voodoo would prevent them from thinking too much about it. Either way I did a little Facebook digging the rest of the day to figure out her parents' names and address.
I'm actually surprised it took me almost 5 months to meet or speak to the parents, since Eduardo and Pilar Cruz live in Trenton, albeit across town. I stopped by Kari's place on the way there, since the low cut top and short skirt I had worn to work didn't seem like they were a good way to honor Kari's dead ancestors. I walked up to the well kept house in a working class neighborhood and rang the doorbell. A short bald man with a thick gray mustache gave me a confused look and then a great big hug.
"Why did you ring the doorbell, Mija?" He asked "Did you lose your key?"
I had thought that Kari may or may not have had access to the house she grew up in, but it still feels weird walking into places that are unfamiliar, even if they aren't supposed to be.
"Left it at home" I say giving him a tight hug back and following him inside.
"Your mama and Ashley are in the kitchen" he said, and I just followed my nose to find Ashley and a short, slightly overweight woman in her earl 50s with a bit of gray in her hair sitting around the table drinking hot chocolate and talking. Once I was spotted another hug ensued. I don't know if being a girl means you get hugged more or if its just a feature of Kari's live, but my boobs are squeezing into another person at least twice a day.
It turns out Dia de Los Muertos isn't a solemn ritual in the Cruz casa but rather a cultural tradition and a reason to have a family dinner. Ashley and Pilar had made and painted sugar skulls, which contrary to my thinking you do not eat because 1. They're for the spirits of the dead and 2. They do not taste very good. They also had set up an ofrenda which is a little altar with photos of their dead relatives and candles in front of them. I went ahead and lit one for Kari's dead grandmother. I don't know if I was supposed to say a prayer or not, but thinking about religion these days is a bit weird for me.
Then we had dinner. And the food...wow. Pilar is an amazing cook. If I ate her cooking every day with this new body and metabolism I'd gain 50 lbs by the time I went back to Maine. It wasn't Mexican food like most people think of, that's really Tex-Mex. This was authentic stuff. Tamales, Tortilla Soup, Flautas which are like Taquitos but somehow even better, delicious cheesy beans and rice, and these amazing pork tips called carnitas.
Dinner was like most family dinners, but it seemed like there was less drama. I don't come from an unhappy home or anything but the Van Hoekstra's aren't the biggest huggers and there's always some underlying tension at Thanksgiving or Christmas. If I had had a kid when I was 14 years old, there would be judgement and snide remarks for the rest of my life. Nothing doing here. Pilar and Eduardo seemed overjoyed that their daughter and granddaughter were there for dinner. I was actually grateful Ashley was there too, because since she didn't speak Spanish that meant English around the dinner table and I didn't have to explain my sudden monolingual-ism .
So yeah, surprise holiday which turned out to be great. But my title says two surprises and the second one came on the way home.
Loaded up with leftover Ashley and I were making casual mother daughter small talk when she hits me with.
"Dad says you saw him at the party Saturday and didn't even yell at him."
Yep.
Darrin Ellis, the balding convenience store clerk dressed like a football player? That's Ashley's dad. That explains the Anglo first name as well as the fact that despite being in the sun all day she's not as tan as I am. I knew she must have had a father, somewhere in the world, but I wasn't in a big hurry to track him down. He never called, visited, or you know, sent a child support check, but it turns out he's here in town. I was the teensiest bit relieved because I had this strange paranoia in the back of my mind that even though the date's and ages don't match up AT ALL that Latherman might actually be her father.
"Yeah, he was there" I say casually "I wasn't in the mood for a fight so we said a few words and left it like that"
"Does that mean he and I can do things more?" she asked with a hint of hope that made my heart almost melt.
But I knew this was shaky ground. I'm not the kind of person to keep a man from seeing his kids for no reason, but I don't know if there is a reason or not. I don't know if Kari keeps him away out of spite or if he has drinking or drug issues or is violent or is a criminal or what.
"We'll see" I say, repeating the line that as a teenager had driven me insane so many times. But I meant it. I'm going to have to find out more about this situation.
-Lane
Friday, November 06, 2015
Tori: How old am I?
It's been... well, quite a weekend.
Mike took me to a party at the house of one of his grad school friends'. It was literary-themed, so I went as Lady Mad Hatter (sparkly purple jacket, bustier, fishnets and top hat of course) and we got him a red checked topcoat and bunny ears so he could be the White Rabbit (I was hoping for gender-swapped Alice, but oh well.) The party was very chill - there was a lot of activity in the kitchen (where Mike was holding court) but I settled in with some couples in the living room, where we sat around on the couches and drank wine, which is more my pace lately.
Unfortunately, the weather's unpredictability lately has really made me feel gross, and I started to get a really serious headache around 11, so I went to find Mike. "Hey, you can stay if you want, but I kind of just want to go home and crawl into bed."
He looked really disappointed in me, asked if maybe I could take some Advil or anything, and I said I would stay longer if he really wanted me to, but I was feeling drowsy and I would quite like to split early if he was cool with it.
He let me go. I felt terrible for leaving, and I wished he would want to come home and take care of me, but I didn't want him to leave the party on my account. Conflicting emotions that resulted in me really having to fight back tears my whole way home. Stupid PMS.
I got home and started to undress for bed, leaving the costume in a heap on the floor and scrubbing my makeup off. I moved from the vanity to the full-body mirror to give myself a good look, to take stock of the way my boobs hang, my butt flattens, my muffin top bunches up. Not that I necessarily mind any of this - I'm not tight little 22-year-old Tori anymore, in the body that intimidated me when I first got here. I carry my wear-and-tear proudly, and honestly I think it makes me feel real, at home with myself, and downright sexy. I wasn't meant to be the pin-up in the body I inherited, I was meant to be me.
We all change over time, usually too subtly to notice... I just happen to have a more recent starting point to reference, a vivid idea of what that girl looked like when she first appeared in my mirror. With some tricks and cheats, I can still look like her, and I've got many more years ahead of being a babe, I'm sure. But when I let it all hang out, I'm... this.
It's not perfect, but I like it - love it, own it - but it leads me to my next thought.
I'm old. Older than I seem, anyway.
I will never quite look as old as I really am. I was born for the first time in 1982, which means I am in reality a 33-year-old person. That being is stuffed into a 28-year-old body, which has really seen a lot in the past five years. I know that doesn't make me a senior citizen, but while I reveled in my youth when I got that extra five years back, that time is now gone and I am older to the world than I was when I went to the Inn. I'm ready to slow down. Is that reasonable at 28, or is it because, in my mind, I'm 33?
This is a stupid dilemma to be having, but also a serious one. Is my brain 5 years ahead of my body? Who am I really? Just when I thought I knew, I found a new thing to obsess about. I practically wanted to book a CAT scan just to see if my brain looked like that of a 33-year-old man, but I don't think I would want to know if it does.
Basically, I'm just tired.
On my worst days, I feel like I cheated the aging process, and now feel irrationally afraid of the fact that this is the body I will continue to age in, grow old in, maybe even have a baby in.
Mike came over an hour later - definitely earlier than he would have if I had stayed as long as he wanted - and found me curled up in bed with a book and a glass of water, trying to ignore my anxiety. He crawled into bed next to me and I let him fold me up in my arms. We talked a bit about how I was feeling, and I gave him the abridged version about how I was really feeling "my age." He reassured me that the best years were ahead, and I told him I agreed. Then he said "Besides, there's nothing wrong with staying in bed as long as you want. You've earned it."
He started to kiss and caress me and for a second I thought of uttering that time-honored phrase: Not tonight I have a headache. But if we're being honest, I've always found a good tumble helps with that.
As long as I don't have to do too much.
I love him. I am fighting the urge to tell him just yet because I know it's going to scare him, but we're very stable, and he gives me so much attention and reassurance. It's not perfect, I'd like him to be more available to me, but when he's with me, I really feel it.
Mike took me to a party at the house of one of his grad school friends'. It was literary-themed, so I went as Lady Mad Hatter (sparkly purple jacket, bustier, fishnets and top hat of course) and we got him a red checked topcoat and bunny ears so he could be the White Rabbit (I was hoping for gender-swapped Alice, but oh well.) The party was very chill - there was a lot of activity in the kitchen (where Mike was holding court) but I settled in with some couples in the living room, where we sat around on the couches and drank wine, which is more my pace lately.
Unfortunately, the weather's unpredictability lately has really made me feel gross, and I started to get a really serious headache around 11, so I went to find Mike. "Hey, you can stay if you want, but I kind of just want to go home and crawl into bed."
He looked really disappointed in me, asked if maybe I could take some Advil or anything, and I said I would stay longer if he really wanted me to, but I was feeling drowsy and I would quite like to split early if he was cool with it.
He let me go. I felt terrible for leaving, and I wished he would want to come home and take care of me, but I didn't want him to leave the party on my account. Conflicting emotions that resulted in me really having to fight back tears my whole way home. Stupid PMS.
I got home and started to undress for bed, leaving the costume in a heap on the floor and scrubbing my makeup off. I moved from the vanity to the full-body mirror to give myself a good look, to take stock of the way my boobs hang, my butt flattens, my muffin top bunches up. Not that I necessarily mind any of this - I'm not tight little 22-year-old Tori anymore, in the body that intimidated me when I first got here. I carry my wear-and-tear proudly, and honestly I think it makes me feel real, at home with myself, and downright sexy. I wasn't meant to be the pin-up in the body I inherited, I was meant to be me.
We all change over time, usually too subtly to notice... I just happen to have a more recent starting point to reference, a vivid idea of what that girl looked like when she first appeared in my mirror. With some tricks and cheats, I can still look like her, and I've got many more years ahead of being a babe, I'm sure. But when I let it all hang out, I'm... this.
It's not perfect, but I like it - love it, own it - but it leads me to my next thought.
I'm old. Older than I seem, anyway.
I will never quite look as old as I really am. I was born for the first time in 1982, which means I am in reality a 33-year-old person. That being is stuffed into a 28-year-old body, which has really seen a lot in the past five years. I know that doesn't make me a senior citizen, but while I reveled in my youth when I got that extra five years back, that time is now gone and I am older to the world than I was when I went to the Inn. I'm ready to slow down. Is that reasonable at 28, or is it because, in my mind, I'm 33?
This is a stupid dilemma to be having, but also a serious one. Is my brain 5 years ahead of my body? Who am I really? Just when I thought I knew, I found a new thing to obsess about. I practically wanted to book a CAT scan just to see if my brain looked like that of a 33-year-old man, but I don't think I would want to know if it does.
Basically, I'm just tired.
On my worst days, I feel like I cheated the aging process, and now feel irrationally afraid of the fact that this is the body I will continue to age in, grow old in, maybe even have a baby in.
Mike came over an hour later - definitely earlier than he would have if I had stayed as long as he wanted - and found me curled up in bed with a book and a glass of water, trying to ignore my anxiety. He crawled into bed next to me and I let him fold me up in my arms. We talked a bit about how I was feeling, and I gave him the abridged version about how I was really feeling "my age." He reassured me that the best years were ahead, and I told him I agreed. Then he said "Besides, there's nothing wrong with staying in bed as long as you want. You've earned it."
He started to kiss and caress me and for a second I thought of uttering that time-honored phrase: Not tonight I have a headache. But if we're being honest, I've always found a good tumble helps with that.
As long as I don't have to do too much.
I love him. I am fighting the urge to tell him just yet because I know it's going to scare him, but we're very stable, and he gives me so much attention and reassurance. It's not perfect, I'd like him to be more available to me, but when he's with me, I really feel it.
Thursday, November 05, 2015
Erin/Chris: Guys Don't Dance
It's been a little bit since I posted. Mostly I'm just fatigued from work and attempting to have a life. The second one is a hard balance to strike, because I do feel confined by what I can do with Chris' life. Most guys who are not in relationships tend to construct their social lives around trying to get in one. They meet potential dates online, or they go to bars and hit on girls, or whatever. Guys don't go dancing for the sake of dancing. They do sometimes grab drinks together, but they talk about sports, or maybe The Walking Dead or other things boys like. It doesn't help that the New York Mets team made the Baseball World Series (you can tell I'm not much of a sports gal, eh? I did sometimes watch Colts games with an ex, but that's about it.) That was all anyone wanted to talk about for months, and then they started losing to the Kansas team, and suddenly it was just "Yeah... friggin' Mets."
Guys: They take so little notice of each other's behavior that that was all I said for weeks and it seemed like I was totally up to speed on what was going on.
OK. It's not like drinks with the girls was a Mensa meeting. I just miss talking about style and celebrity gossip. You can't turn to one of your 40-year-old male co-workers and say "Did you see that People cover with Khloe Kardashian on it?" You know he didn't. And if you bring up Caitlin, you'd better be prepared for some really awkward responses.
I thought Rosie would be my partner in this, but she's proven surprisingly adept at blending in, memorizing stats about the Mets, Jets, and Nets, ("Hey all the teams around here rhyme, isn't that weird?" is another thing guys will look at you weird for saying.) and other sports trivia. When it's just the two of us you can hear the femininity in her voice, but she puts on a gruff "street" imitation around others that, well, sounds really fake to me but I guess the others don't have any reason to question it.
He's also a bit more flirty around women... although he insists he doesn't mean anything by it, it's just a bit more confidence.
Which brings us to Halloween.
A month ago, I would have thought I'd have to do the hard sell on getting him to hit up a Halloween party, but he was very receptive to it. We even considered doing a group costume, but his only idea was "Men in Black," which I didn't want to do because that's basically just a suit (and sunglasses... at night. Come on.) But I wanted to take advantage of something I never got to do as a woman.
I know for a lot of girls, it's no big thing to dress skimpy on Halloween, but it was never something I did. I just never had the relationship with my body that would let me do that. On my best day I considered myself more for cute costumes than sexy, and on my worst I was very embarrassed about my belly fat and uneven shape. I feel bad for harping about it - it could have been worse, I suppose, but every woman is allowed her flaws to focus on.
So I decided to just go for it - hopefully, this will be my only Halloween outside of my own body (I've read enough of this blog not to be too naïve about it... and trust me, that's a hard idea to come to terms with!) - so I decided to let myself run a little more wild and get a Tarzan costume, a one-piece with a single shoulder strap, loin cloth, and bare chest. Chris' body isn't exactly cut and rippling with muscle - more lean and decently-defined - but to be honest, I looked pretty sexy, in a goofy "this guy doesn't take himself too serious" kind of way. I liked it.
Which was a hard feeling to pin down. "Why," I wondered? I think the man in the mirror is handsome enough, in an average-white-guy kind of way, but maybe not a head-turner. And anyway it's not like I want to make out with myself, or any guy. While I haven't suddenly un-learned a lifetime of appreciating the male form, I find my interest is a lot more passive lately... guys leave me alone, and I'm strangely OK leaving them alone. But I know what I like as a woman, and therefore what some women like, so I thought "It's nice to feel attractive to the opposite sex." To feel special.
To feel like... if I wanted to pick up a girl tonight, I would stand a chance.
I didn't think I would want to, though. The whole idea feels like a nightmare. I'm not a one-night-stand type of person, and it would be pretty cruel of me to start something serious with someone knowing I don't plan on staying Chris forever. I have some feelings I probably shouldn't act on, and while suppressing them doesn't feel good, it's probably best for everybody if I just... keep my hands to myself, you know? More trouble than it's worth.
I swung by Ahmir's apartment to head to the party together, and he answered the door in a Batman t-shirt. I scoffed, "That's your costume?"
"Don't tell me Batman can't be black," he said in response.
"No, but he doesn't wear a t-shirt," I said, "He wears, like... a cape, and a mask."
"I've got a cape," he said, pulling out one that looked like it was more from a Dracula costume.
I sighed, "For $30 you could get a halfway decent costume, but whatever."
Then I heard someone in the bathroom clinking around. I gave him a weird look: "Who else is here?" not like he wasn't allowed to have friends, but... he's not overly social, and we're pretty protective of our mutual secret.
"Sorry, I invited her..." he started to say, when the woman in question poked her head out to see me.
"Oh, hey Erin! ... or, sorry, Chris," said Lexi, also known as Saraya... a fellow Inn person who was currently residing in Jersey. She was dressed in a very revealing black outfit (basically: a bra and hotpants) with kitty ears that I supposed was meant to be Catwoman. She looked me up and down: "Hot costume, you're really working it, boy."
I blushed a bit. Rosie stammered an explanation, "Lexi hates it out in the 'burbs, so I offered her a night out, hope you don't mind..."
I looked back and forth between the two of them. My mind was swimming with questions. What was the meaning of this? Was it wrong for me to assume it was anything but innocent? Did it matter if it was? Was it any of my business??
"The more the merrier," I said, not able to mask my lack of enthusiasm. I don't know why, I just... she didn't make a great first impression on me back in the day, but I can probably forgive her since we were all stressed. "How've you been?"
"Dying," she said, "Like literally dying. There's nothing to do except work and stay home. I'm like, itching for some action."
"Yeah, I get the feeling," I said, trying to renew my friendly exterior.
She continued, "And like, all Saraya's friends are black and brown and stuff, and no offense to her but I don't get them at all."
I preferred to interpret this as culture shock and not, more likely, low-key racism.
But I bit my tongue. If she and Rosie had struck up a friendship, that was good. I felt a little out of the loop, and jealous because I suddenly felt like Rosie had let Lexi in on stuff she had kept from me, but... we've got to stick together, right?
On the cab ride over, I rode in the front, and Lexi peppered me with questions that probably made the cab driver very confused: "So what's it like to have a dick? Rosie won't say anything. Do you love it? How easy is it to get an erection? Is it fun to jerk off? Oh my God, if I had a dick I would have so much sex it would be disgusting. I'm not even gay, I swear."
I almost barrel rolled right out of the car.
Eventually we made it to the club and I felt very... odd. Very much like a third wheel, for starters... I entertained notions that "Ahmir" might be my "wingman" for some harmless flirting, but "Saraya" attached herself to him and dragged him out onto the dancefloor. I looked, it was full of women in revealing costumes (one literally just wore a bikini and sunglasses on top of her head.) Some were dancing with guys they had brought, but mostly the guys hung around the tables chatting women up, and the women were dancing in groups. And suddenly all my newfound male confidence fled me, I had no idea what to do or why I should even bother... I just felt like some loser in a silly costume.
I ordered a rum and coke, and then another, as I watched girls having fun from a distance... longing to be among them somehow. And then halfway through that, as I began to dream up what I might say to approach a woman, it hit me.
A purse.
Specifically the purse of Andrea Molinaro, dressed as a sexy nurse. It was a Coach bag with a red cross taped on it to make it look like a medicine bag, cute. And it smacked me right out of nowhere, not hard enough that it was meant to damage, but hard enough to startle me and feel less-than-playful.
"You never texted me!" she said over the music.
It had been over a month since we ran into each other at the bar. She had seemed oddly happy to see me then, and I had given it some thought... in my weaker moments... but decided to leave well enough alone. Chris described her to me as "trouble," and said I "should stay away," but he didn't appear to make it a hard and fast rule. Privately, I had hoped for another chance encounter so that I could say I didn't ask for it, and yet now that I had one, I was a bit dumbstruck.
I also didn't remember saying I would text her, but I guess the assumption was that she would be on my mind (which she was) so I couldn't resist.
"Sorry about that," I said, as if it was an accident.
"Don't worry about it, I've been busy," she said playfully. "How about you, still scrubbing toilets instead of lawyering?"
"For the moment, yep," I said.
"I would never in a million years think you'd be satisfied with that!"
And I'm not, but... well, not for the reasons she thinks.
"What can I say?" I said, raising my voice over the dubstep or house or whatever it was "I'm trying to simplify!"
"That's a good word!" she said, then turned to the bartender and ordered a screwdriver, two shots of tequila, and a beer. When the shots came, she nudged one over to me.
"Oh, no thanks," I said.
"Don't be a baby!" she said back, downing her shot, then sipping from her screwdriver (which looked better than my drink, but I guess I've developed a weird complex about the masculinity of cocktails.) "It's a party! You look so sad!"
"My friend ditched me... Ahmir..." I said, in case she knew him.
"So? Get out there and have a good time!"
"Maybe later..." I said.
That's when a guy dressed in black with a mask came over to take the beer. Taller than me, well-built, good jaw... handsome fella.
"Who's this?" asked the guy.
"This is my friend Chris. Chris this is Sam." He gave me a firm handshake. She didn't say "my boyfriend" or even "my date," so the nature of their relationship was ambiguous.
"Nice costume, what is that, Tuxedo Mask?"
"Zorro," he said. He didn't even have a hat or a sword, but whatever.
Turning to him, she said, "Let's go dance!"
"Babe, I just got my drink!"
"Chris will watch it!" Suddenly I felt very emasculated... and considering I wasn't masculine at all six months ago, it was a hell of a feeling.
"Naw," he said, taking a sip, "I don't dance."
"Come on! Just one song!" She ran her finger up and down his arm seductively, but he wasn't convinced. "Okay fine," she said, turning to me, "Chris, you wanna dance?"
I looked between the two of them. "Oh, I don't know if I should..."
"He won't mind!" she insisted, "He had his chance. It's just a dance fer Christ's sake!"
I winced, "Yeah, okay. If it's okay with your... friend."
He gave me a look that said "whatever." Across the room I saw Ahmir and Saraya getting very close (he's tall enough that you can usually spot him in a crowd) and figured: why not? But before she would lead me to the dancefloor, she made me down the tequila. That helped.
I was very distracted trying to remind myself it was just a dance, as she moved around me. I wasn't sure how to act: how could I keep my male composure but also try to look like I was having fun? I moved very slightly in response to her body, and we started to find a rhythm.
The more momentum we got, the faster we moved, and then the closer we got... and my little friend started to go on, um, "high alert."
I felt myself getting weak in the knees, with an energetic rush of hormones pushing me forward. Soon, she was completely into it, grinding on me. I was sure she could tell what I was packing in my loincloth, and... well, it didn't seem like she minded. It lasted for to or three songs - we just kept going - and by the end, I had my arms tightly around her hips, and she was leaning back into me.
Eventually we got to a stopping place. She leaned over and said "I'm gonna go find Sam - you stay here and have fun! All the girls wanna dance with you now!"
I turned to my left, and sure enough, a beautiful blonde dressed as a diner waitress was smiling at me. I looked her up and down - she had a very good body and a very pretty face - and started to dance with her. It was nice, but we didn't have quite the chemistry as I did with Andrea... which is hard to explain since I knew Andrea was basically off limits and this girl didn't seem to be. But I guess I imprinted a bit on her, being the first woman who's seemed interested in me.
So I thanked the blonde for the dance, and headed back to the bar, where I found Andrea: alone, quietly sipping on another cocktail.
"Are you okay?" I asked, trying to be sensitive but still having to talk over the music.
"Yeah, sure," she nodded. "Sam took off. I think he was pissed that I danced with you for so long."
"Oh, sorry about that."
"Don't worry about it," she said back, "It was our second date. I don't think there's gonna be a third."
I wisely kept my mouth shut instead of saying "I wouldn't like it if you ditched me to go dance with your ex either."
"I'm gonna get a cab," she said. "You wanna come back to my place for a bit?"
A million thoughts crossed my mind, but it basically amounted to: For sex? It's not like I hadn't thought this was a possible outcome for the night, but I hadn't really decided which side of the decision I would come down on. Physically, I wanted it to happen, just to satisfy my curiosity and take my hormones to their logical conclusion... but intellectually I knew it was asking for trouble. I contemplated sending her home alone, but leaving a woman drunk, alone, in the city on a Saturday night? I may not have been a man very long but I know how to be a gentleman.
"Sure, yeah," I said after what seemed like forever but was probably more like 30 seconds.
She hailed the cab and gave her address (I made note of this since it was probably something I was expected to know.) We sat quietly, awkwardly for a minute or two, when she said "It was so lucky I ran into you tonight. When you didn't text, I was worried you hated me."
My stomach sank. It really didn't seem like the real Chris has much good feelings for this girl, but I can't dislike someone just because he did.
"I'm... over it, I guess..." I said vaguely. I wasn't sure what that might mean, but I figured there was something to 'be over.'
"That's good," she said. "The past is the past, right?"
"Sure," I said.
She leaned over and rested her head on my shoulder. She smelled really nice.
I think it was in that moment I decided I had to leave as soon as I could. Whatever this girl was feeling, it wasn't for me, and it wasn't fair to represent myself as Chris. Other peoples' hearts are at stake.
We awkwardly made our way to her apartment, I had to not seem like it was all new to me. I figured if she asked, I would say - not inaccurately - that it had been long enough since "we" had dated that the layout of her building slipped my mind.
We got to her place. She asked if I was hungry - I was starving, actually - so she put a frozen pizza in the oven. Then she fell asleep on the couch while we were waiting for it to cook. I couldn't wake her up to offer her any, so I ate most of it myself.
Around 1 AM - the second one, given the time change - I decided I was probably strong enough to pick her up and carry her to bed (I was, but not by a lot.) She sleepily acknowledged this with an adorable little coo. As I pulled some covers over her, I heard her mutter, "Don't go."
I had to admit... Brooklyn is still a strange place to me, and I may look like a male but I have the learned experience of a woman, and men get mugged plenty often anyway, to say nothing of the fact that I was dressed as Tarzan. I decided it wouldn't be so bad to just crash on her couch.
I woke up around 8:30 AM with a nasty crick in my neck but otherwise fine: I'm always very impressed with this body's ability to handle alcohol (Drinking at the limit of my real body, I don't even get a hangover - how about that!) It took me a moment to realize where I was and how I was dressed.
I'm trying to get used to the subway here, but I didn't really want to sit in a crowded car for too long dressed this way, so I called for a cab and went home and made myself some breakfast. Before I left, I wrote out a note saying I hoped she felt good in the morning, thanks for letting me crash, we'll keep in touch.
I texted Rosie some basic updates about how my night had worked out, and opted to let him decide whether to fill me in on his. (It basically amounted to: they stayed until last call then went back to his place and fell asleep... if I'm to take his word for it.)
Then at 2 I got a text from Andrea: "Lol @ ur note."
"Just being polite :)"
"Such a nice boy. Ur welcome. Anytime. <3 p="">
I felt that strange feeling wash over me... very bashful at her appreciation for me. And wanting more.
This isn't going to be an easy year.
Guys: They take so little notice of each other's behavior that that was all I said for weeks and it seemed like I was totally up to speed on what was going on.
OK. It's not like drinks with the girls was a Mensa meeting. I just miss talking about style and celebrity gossip. You can't turn to one of your 40-year-old male co-workers and say "Did you see that People cover with Khloe Kardashian on it?" You know he didn't. And if you bring up Caitlin, you'd better be prepared for some really awkward responses.
I thought Rosie would be my partner in this, but she's proven surprisingly adept at blending in, memorizing stats about the Mets, Jets, and Nets, ("Hey all the teams around here rhyme, isn't that weird?" is another thing guys will look at you weird for saying.) and other sports trivia. When it's just the two of us you can hear the femininity in her voice, but she puts on a gruff "street" imitation around others that, well, sounds really fake to me but I guess the others don't have any reason to question it.
He's also a bit more flirty around women... although he insists he doesn't mean anything by it, it's just a bit more confidence.
Which brings us to Halloween.
A month ago, I would have thought I'd have to do the hard sell on getting him to hit up a Halloween party, but he was very receptive to it. We even considered doing a group costume, but his only idea was "Men in Black," which I didn't want to do because that's basically just a suit (and sunglasses... at night. Come on.) But I wanted to take advantage of something I never got to do as a woman.
I know for a lot of girls, it's no big thing to dress skimpy on Halloween, but it was never something I did. I just never had the relationship with my body that would let me do that. On my best day I considered myself more for cute costumes than sexy, and on my worst I was very embarrassed about my belly fat and uneven shape. I feel bad for harping about it - it could have been worse, I suppose, but every woman is allowed her flaws to focus on.
So I decided to just go for it - hopefully, this will be my only Halloween outside of my own body (I've read enough of this blog not to be too naïve about it... and trust me, that's a hard idea to come to terms with!) - so I decided to let myself run a little more wild and get a Tarzan costume, a one-piece with a single shoulder strap, loin cloth, and bare chest. Chris' body isn't exactly cut and rippling with muscle - more lean and decently-defined - but to be honest, I looked pretty sexy, in a goofy "this guy doesn't take himself too serious" kind of way. I liked it.
Which was a hard feeling to pin down. "Why," I wondered? I think the man in the mirror is handsome enough, in an average-white-guy kind of way, but maybe not a head-turner. And anyway it's not like I want to make out with myself, or any guy. While I haven't suddenly un-learned a lifetime of appreciating the male form, I find my interest is a lot more passive lately... guys leave me alone, and I'm strangely OK leaving them alone. But I know what I like as a woman, and therefore what some women like, so I thought "It's nice to feel attractive to the opposite sex." To feel special.
To feel like... if I wanted to pick up a girl tonight, I would stand a chance.
I didn't think I would want to, though. The whole idea feels like a nightmare. I'm not a one-night-stand type of person, and it would be pretty cruel of me to start something serious with someone knowing I don't plan on staying Chris forever. I have some feelings I probably shouldn't act on, and while suppressing them doesn't feel good, it's probably best for everybody if I just... keep my hands to myself, you know? More trouble than it's worth.
I swung by Ahmir's apartment to head to the party together, and he answered the door in a Batman t-shirt. I scoffed, "That's your costume?"
"Don't tell me Batman can't be black," he said in response.
"No, but he doesn't wear a t-shirt," I said, "He wears, like... a cape, and a mask."
"I've got a cape," he said, pulling out one that looked like it was more from a Dracula costume.
I sighed, "For $30 you could get a halfway decent costume, but whatever."
Then I heard someone in the bathroom clinking around. I gave him a weird look: "Who else is here?" not like he wasn't allowed to have friends, but... he's not overly social, and we're pretty protective of our mutual secret.
"Sorry, I invited her..." he started to say, when the woman in question poked her head out to see me.
"Oh, hey Erin! ... or, sorry, Chris," said Lexi, also known as Saraya... a fellow Inn person who was currently residing in Jersey. She was dressed in a very revealing black outfit (basically: a bra and hotpants) with kitty ears that I supposed was meant to be Catwoman. She looked me up and down: "Hot costume, you're really working it, boy."
I blushed a bit. Rosie stammered an explanation, "Lexi hates it out in the 'burbs, so I offered her a night out, hope you don't mind..."
I looked back and forth between the two of them. My mind was swimming with questions. What was the meaning of this? Was it wrong for me to assume it was anything but innocent? Did it matter if it was? Was it any of my business??
"The more the merrier," I said, not able to mask my lack of enthusiasm. I don't know why, I just... she didn't make a great first impression on me back in the day, but I can probably forgive her since we were all stressed. "How've you been?"
"Dying," she said, "Like literally dying. There's nothing to do except work and stay home. I'm like, itching for some action."
"Yeah, I get the feeling," I said, trying to renew my friendly exterior.
She continued, "And like, all Saraya's friends are black and brown and stuff, and no offense to her but I don't get them at all."
I preferred to interpret this as culture shock and not, more likely, low-key racism.
But I bit my tongue. If she and Rosie had struck up a friendship, that was good. I felt a little out of the loop, and jealous because I suddenly felt like Rosie had let Lexi in on stuff she had kept from me, but... we've got to stick together, right?
On the cab ride over, I rode in the front, and Lexi peppered me with questions that probably made the cab driver very confused: "So what's it like to have a dick? Rosie won't say anything. Do you love it? How easy is it to get an erection? Is it fun to jerk off? Oh my God, if I had a dick I would have so much sex it would be disgusting. I'm not even gay, I swear."
I almost barrel rolled right out of the car.
Eventually we made it to the club and I felt very... odd. Very much like a third wheel, for starters... I entertained notions that "Ahmir" might be my "wingman" for some harmless flirting, but "Saraya" attached herself to him and dragged him out onto the dancefloor. I looked, it was full of women in revealing costumes (one literally just wore a bikini and sunglasses on top of her head.) Some were dancing with guys they had brought, but mostly the guys hung around the tables chatting women up, and the women were dancing in groups. And suddenly all my newfound male confidence fled me, I had no idea what to do or why I should even bother... I just felt like some loser in a silly costume.
I ordered a rum and coke, and then another, as I watched girls having fun from a distance... longing to be among them somehow. And then halfway through that, as I began to dream up what I might say to approach a woman, it hit me.
A purse.
Specifically the purse of Andrea Molinaro, dressed as a sexy nurse. It was a Coach bag with a red cross taped on it to make it look like a medicine bag, cute. And it smacked me right out of nowhere, not hard enough that it was meant to damage, but hard enough to startle me and feel less-than-playful.
"You never texted me!" she said over the music.
It had been over a month since we ran into each other at the bar. She had seemed oddly happy to see me then, and I had given it some thought... in my weaker moments... but decided to leave well enough alone. Chris described her to me as "trouble," and said I "should stay away," but he didn't appear to make it a hard and fast rule. Privately, I had hoped for another chance encounter so that I could say I didn't ask for it, and yet now that I had one, I was a bit dumbstruck.
I also didn't remember saying I would text her, but I guess the assumption was that she would be on my mind (which she was) so I couldn't resist.
"Sorry about that," I said, as if it was an accident.
"Don't worry about it, I've been busy," she said playfully. "How about you, still scrubbing toilets instead of lawyering?"
"For the moment, yep," I said.
"I would never in a million years think you'd be satisfied with that!"
And I'm not, but... well, not for the reasons she thinks.
"What can I say?" I said, raising my voice over the dubstep or house or whatever it was "I'm trying to simplify!"
"That's a good word!" she said, then turned to the bartender and ordered a screwdriver, two shots of tequila, and a beer. When the shots came, she nudged one over to me.
"Oh, no thanks," I said.
"Don't be a baby!" she said back, downing her shot, then sipping from her screwdriver (which looked better than my drink, but I guess I've developed a weird complex about the masculinity of cocktails.) "It's a party! You look so sad!"
"My friend ditched me... Ahmir..." I said, in case she knew him.
"So? Get out there and have a good time!"
"Maybe later..." I said.
That's when a guy dressed in black with a mask came over to take the beer. Taller than me, well-built, good jaw... handsome fella.
"Who's this?" asked the guy.
"This is my friend Chris. Chris this is Sam." He gave me a firm handshake. She didn't say "my boyfriend" or even "my date," so the nature of their relationship was ambiguous.
"Nice costume, what is that, Tuxedo Mask?"
"Zorro," he said. He didn't even have a hat or a sword, but whatever.
Turning to him, she said, "Let's go dance!"
"Babe, I just got my drink!"
"Chris will watch it!" Suddenly I felt very emasculated... and considering I wasn't masculine at all six months ago, it was a hell of a feeling.
"Naw," he said, taking a sip, "I don't dance."
"Come on! Just one song!" She ran her finger up and down his arm seductively, but he wasn't convinced. "Okay fine," she said, turning to me, "Chris, you wanna dance?"
I looked between the two of them. "Oh, I don't know if I should..."
"He won't mind!" she insisted, "He had his chance. It's just a dance fer Christ's sake!"
I winced, "Yeah, okay. If it's okay with your... friend."
He gave me a look that said "whatever." Across the room I saw Ahmir and Saraya getting very close (he's tall enough that you can usually spot him in a crowd) and figured: why not? But before she would lead me to the dancefloor, she made me down the tequila. That helped.
I was very distracted trying to remind myself it was just a dance, as she moved around me. I wasn't sure how to act: how could I keep my male composure but also try to look like I was having fun? I moved very slightly in response to her body, and we started to find a rhythm.
The more momentum we got, the faster we moved, and then the closer we got... and my little friend started to go on, um, "high alert."
I felt myself getting weak in the knees, with an energetic rush of hormones pushing me forward. Soon, she was completely into it, grinding on me. I was sure she could tell what I was packing in my loincloth, and... well, it didn't seem like she minded. It lasted for to or three songs - we just kept going - and by the end, I had my arms tightly around her hips, and she was leaning back into me.
Eventually we got to a stopping place. She leaned over and said "I'm gonna go find Sam - you stay here and have fun! All the girls wanna dance with you now!"
I turned to my left, and sure enough, a beautiful blonde dressed as a diner waitress was smiling at me. I looked her up and down - she had a very good body and a very pretty face - and started to dance with her. It was nice, but we didn't have quite the chemistry as I did with Andrea... which is hard to explain since I knew Andrea was basically off limits and this girl didn't seem to be. But I guess I imprinted a bit on her, being the first woman who's seemed interested in me.
So I thanked the blonde for the dance, and headed back to the bar, where I found Andrea: alone, quietly sipping on another cocktail.
"Are you okay?" I asked, trying to be sensitive but still having to talk over the music.
"Yeah, sure," she nodded. "Sam took off. I think he was pissed that I danced with you for so long."
"Oh, sorry about that."
"Don't worry about it," she said back, "It was our second date. I don't think there's gonna be a third."
I wisely kept my mouth shut instead of saying "I wouldn't like it if you ditched me to go dance with your ex either."
"I'm gonna get a cab," she said. "You wanna come back to my place for a bit?"
A million thoughts crossed my mind, but it basically amounted to: For sex? It's not like I hadn't thought this was a possible outcome for the night, but I hadn't really decided which side of the decision I would come down on. Physically, I wanted it to happen, just to satisfy my curiosity and take my hormones to their logical conclusion... but intellectually I knew it was asking for trouble. I contemplated sending her home alone, but leaving a woman drunk, alone, in the city on a Saturday night? I may not have been a man very long but I know how to be a gentleman.
"Sure, yeah," I said after what seemed like forever but was probably more like 30 seconds.
She hailed the cab and gave her address (I made note of this since it was probably something I was expected to know.) We sat quietly, awkwardly for a minute or two, when she said "It was so lucky I ran into you tonight. When you didn't text, I was worried you hated me."
My stomach sank. It really didn't seem like the real Chris has much good feelings for this girl, but I can't dislike someone just because he did.
"I'm... over it, I guess..." I said vaguely. I wasn't sure what that might mean, but I figured there was something to 'be over.'
"That's good," she said. "The past is the past, right?"
"Sure," I said.
She leaned over and rested her head on my shoulder. She smelled really nice.
I think it was in that moment I decided I had to leave as soon as I could. Whatever this girl was feeling, it wasn't for me, and it wasn't fair to represent myself as Chris. Other peoples' hearts are at stake.
We awkwardly made our way to her apartment, I had to not seem like it was all new to me. I figured if she asked, I would say - not inaccurately - that it had been long enough since "we" had dated that the layout of her building slipped my mind.
We got to her place. She asked if I was hungry - I was starving, actually - so she put a frozen pizza in the oven. Then she fell asleep on the couch while we were waiting for it to cook. I couldn't wake her up to offer her any, so I ate most of it myself.
Around 1 AM - the second one, given the time change - I decided I was probably strong enough to pick her up and carry her to bed (I was, but not by a lot.) She sleepily acknowledged this with an adorable little coo. As I pulled some covers over her, I heard her mutter, "Don't go."
I had to admit... Brooklyn is still a strange place to me, and I may look like a male but I have the learned experience of a woman, and men get mugged plenty often anyway, to say nothing of the fact that I was dressed as Tarzan. I decided it wouldn't be so bad to just crash on her couch.
I woke up around 8:30 AM with a nasty crick in my neck but otherwise fine: I'm always very impressed with this body's ability to handle alcohol (Drinking at the limit of my real body, I don't even get a hangover - how about that!) It took me a moment to realize where I was and how I was dressed.
I'm trying to get used to the subway here, but I didn't really want to sit in a crowded car for too long dressed this way, so I called for a cab and went home and made myself some breakfast. Before I left, I wrote out a note saying I hoped she felt good in the morning, thanks for letting me crash, we'll keep in touch.
I texted Rosie some basic updates about how my night had worked out, and opted to let him decide whether to fill me in on his. (It basically amounted to: they stayed until last call then went back to his place and fell asleep... if I'm to take his word for it.)
Then at 2 I got a text from Andrea: "Lol @ ur note."
"Just being polite :)"
"Such a nice boy. Ur welcome. Anytime. <3 p="">
I felt that strange feeling wash over me... very bashful at her appreciation for me. And wanting more.
This isn't going to be an easy year.
Wednesday, November 04, 2015
Annette/Benjamin: Ladies I Like
You would think that dealing with new sexual preferences would be easier for a girl who gets turned into a guy, but I seem to be pretty oblivious until something hits me over the head with it. After all, I may only be 20, despite what this driver's license says, but I probably told other girls that they looked hot more than Missy said something similar to other guys despite vastly more time to do so. Girls making out with each other may mostly be a male fantasy outside of folks who are actually gay, but there's less fear of acknowledging each other as attractive, which you would think would carry over after the Inn reshapes whatever part of your brain is responsible for finding other human beings attractive.
On top of that, you can't argue with erection. A guy turned into a girl may be able to rationalize any sort of internal sensations as meaning something else at first, but there's really no other way to interpret your dick getting hard other than it being ready to go into that person you find attractive. It's embarrassing but definitive.
I suppose that I can be forgiven for needing to get so drunk that inhibitions were out the window as Ravi; even he didn't seem to realize he was gay and I figured that it was just all the things I had filed away in my head as stuff I liked pulling a mind over matter stunt. Once I actually did it, though, there wasn't much doubting or going back - I was a guy who liked guys, and not just with me taking the girl's role, so to speak.
So while I knew from first-hand experience that being Benny physically would mean being into girls, it didn't really hit me until that ballgame when I wound up kissing Missy. Suddenly, I couldn't deny that holding a woman felt good, and I found myself thinking back on all the times I'd complimented her outfit to see if it wasn't just the clothes I was talking about. My sex dreams suddenly got a whole lot more specific and vivid. It suddenly seemed like every movie poster and magazine cover was pushing breasts in my face.
And that that was kind of awesome.
I can't exactly say that I didn't appreciate my boobs when I had them - I had no problem wearing a bikini at the beach, and my prom dress wasn't that of a shy church girl. I knew how to lean over a bit when I wanted a guy to notice me, and buying bras - real bras - was one of the first times I felt grown up despite still being in high school. Even now, I know that if a woman is showing some cleavage, it is probably because she just likes the look, not because she wants a guy's attention.
I know all that, but my head is on a swivel anyway. Maybe there's some element of envy to it for me, but I can't lie: I want to touch. Not quite to the extent of understanding why boys acted like lunatics in high school, but a lot.
Which brings us to the part where my story begins and gets kind of weird.
I don't go to Harvard Square a lot, because that's where the university is and thus where Sandra is, and being around her is something that I have been avoiding. It's got one of the country's best book stores, though, with author talks and a basement full of used books and remainders, plus two or three other book stores besides, so I took the 66 up Monday afternoon and started browsing. It was all going well until I looked up, saw Sandra walking straight toward me, and ducked into the next aisle because this was not the day I was ready to deal with her. It's one of those stores where it's a sort of maze, though, and even if you really wanted to leave (which I didn't), you may have to take a pretty indirect route around other browsers or be pushed in the opposite direction because avoiding someone was taking priority over getting somewhere.
After about a half-dozen near-misses, we finally wound up turning a corner right into each other. I almost knocked her over, and when I instinctively reached out a hand to keep her from falling, she grabbed it. looked up, and smiled as she said she'd finally caught me. That's when I realized she wasn't actually Sandra.
It was an easy mistake; she was the right height, had brown hair styled much the same way Sandra did when I saw her in August, and wore glasses that made her heart-shaped face look even more triangular like I used to do. The t-shirt she was wearing - the cover of The Great Gatsby - had been one of my favorites.
If I had taken a closer look rather than run away, though, I would have spotted the freckles, the closer-to-green eye color, and the fact that she was doing everything with her left hand (Inn folks: does handedness change like sexual orientation?). And, of course, the tag that said she was an employee of the store and that her name was Marybeth.
I asked what she'd meant about catching me and she pulled my wallet out of her pocket. "You dropped this over by 'Mystery'. Pants that dump your stuff from the pockets and avoiding the folks who are here to help isn't a great combination."
I blushed a bit as I took the phone back. "Sorry! I don't usually do that, I just thought you were someone else."
"Did you? Or did you think I was someone specific, only for me to actually turn out to be 'someone else'?"
"Wow," I said, "and here I thought that I was picky about grammar when I asked people who say they're 'doing good' about their volunteer work."
She laughed. ''That's a good one. I'm stealing that." She apparently felt a supervisor wandering into the area, because she started asking if there was something she could help me find. I remembered that biography was on the other side of the store, which gave her an excuse to lead me there.
"So, who did you think I was? Ex-girlfriend?"
"Sort of. Yeah." I pondered saying she literally wouldn't believe me, but this was not the time for gags about "literally" being redefined. "Let's just say it seems like a complicated situation until I realize that in reality, it's pretty simple - we're not going to have anything to do with each other because no good comes out of being that angry."
"Ouch! Explains why a grown man plays hide-and-hide-and-seek in a bookstore, though."
''Yeah--" I saw something out of the corner of my eye and stopped, drawn to a poster listing upcoming events, and I kind of rudely, I guess, took a step in that direction. "You've got a Penny Lincoln-Kim signing coming up?"
The change of subject threw her a bit, but she is pretty good at her job. "Yeah, she's local and shops here all the time to boot. Why, are you a fan?"
"Totally! I totally connected to Pygmalion's Proteges right away - I was such a, um, such a Morris back when I was in high school." I tried to put the brakes on my fangirling, at least not blurting out that I identified with Geena. Or saying how it and Pygmalion's Pioneers made a lot more sense to me knowing that my favorite female writer had started out a man before spending a couple weeks in a cursed Inn. "The Lynn Ashford mysteries are really good, too."
"Well, then, I guess you'll have to brave the crowd of teenage girls when she comes to sign Pygmalion's Proposal, won't you?"
She was amused by me, I could tell, but it didn't bother me much. Sometimes you've just got to let the original you out, and let folks think that you're just kind of eccentric.
We stood there for a couple minutes, and then someone asked her where something by Richard Feynman was, and she said that one would be under science rather than biography, and led him away.
I had my books paid for and was halfway back to the T station before something clicked in my head.
"Damn it!" I yelled, setting some looks as I turned around and started stomping back toward the bookstore. "You're the guy now! She drops hints and you ask for her number!"
I opened the door hard enough that the bells attached made more noise than usual, scanned the place, and not seeing Marybeth, headed down to the basement where she was tidying up a shelf in the Young Adult section. She looked up and smirked. "You realize that I'm about to make a major exception, right? Normally guys have to be a lot quicker on the uptake to get my number!"
"Then what makes me so special?"
"Well, you're buying a lot of books for the size of your paycheck - did I mention I looked through your wallet? Cuz I did - you've got a couple interesting movie tickets in there, a Maine driver's license, some random business cards from New York City, a phone message where the name crossed out isn't even vaguely related to the one replacing it... Let's just say I like good stories and you probably have way more than a guy I'd meet in a bar.
"You're also cute."
That last sentence had an effect on me that may not have been quite so definitive as an erection, but arranging to meet for dinner and a movie on Saturday was a foregone conclusion. If nothing else, it's my turn to have some fun after the stories Missy has been telling me for the last few weeks.
-Benjamin, because it's hard to sign a post about getting erections and asking a girl out ''Annette"
Friday, October 30, 2015
Lane/Kari: Performance Review
Before I begin this post, I'd like to point out the excitement I got from my last one. I got a comment! I know it doesn't sound like a big deal, but it kinda was. When I saw the little notification I may have "eeped" a bit. Not a scared "eep", just a high pitched sound of excitement. Not quite a "squee", which is usually accompanied by rapidly clapping your hands together, but definitely an involuntary exclamation of excitement that I noticed girls do and that I somehow picked up from being around them more.
Seriously though, I began doing this to clear my head and while I know that people read this to have one of them interact with me...it somehow made it seem like people were listening, and it felt a bit therapeutic. So to answer your question, Anonymous, no Jaime did call but he did text. Just not anything interesting. Just hi. I wasn't too keen on stringing him along so I just kinda...didn't answer back. I feel like a bit of a bitch but I think he took the hint.
On to the real reason I'm posting. Work stuff. I'd thought I'd caught a break when my new body had a job at the same type of company as my old body, but since I'm just the receptionist it doesn't really carryover. This company could make novelty wigs and I would probably be doing the same thing and using as much knowledge of investing as I do working at this investment firm.
The thing is, I'm a great receptionist. Like really really good. It isn't rocket science, but it can overwhelm you if you don't stay on top of it. Clients can be left on hold or even forgotten, wrong extensions could be used, messages could be lost, important faxes might go to the wrong place. Within a week I had learned the system that Kari used and withing two weeks I had improved on it, using parts of the software that she either didn't know about or didn't bother using.
It didn't go unnoticed either since my co-workers seem appreciative, especially the women who have started being nice to me. The men were always nice to me, even if it was mostly poor attempts at flirting. A lot of them think that this is The Office and they're Jim Halpert and they can impress the pretty (and humble) receptionist by walking up and telling some lame joke they just saw on Reddit because they don't know that she had just read the same joke a few hours earlier. But the women? The women were cold to me. Not anything catty or mean directly, but a few looks here and there and a couple of times they'd stop talking when I entered the Ladies' room, which is perfectly fine by me because that isn't a place for talking and one of the more irritating little differences of being a girl.
The women? Less of a warm atmosphere. I don't know if they knew that Kari was screwing the boss or they just suspected it and observed evidence of it, but you could understand how someone who went to college and worked to get a job would look down on someone they thought was only there because of who they slept with. I might sound a bit arrogant if I say part of it was that Kari is the prettiest girl in the office, by a landslide, and she used to dress a lot more sexily and I can see how that would be construed as unprofessional.
In fact I know it was, since the first compliment I got from one of them was how much more "professional" I seemed lately. It was from Joanne, the woman who had filled in for Kari while she had been in Maine. She was in her late thirties it seemed, but she was low on the totem pole of analysts at the firm so she was the one who filled in, but her resentment seemed to have evaporated in the last four months (Has it been that long?!). She and the other ladies have stopped with the bathroom cold shoulder and have commenced with smiles and greetings when I walk into the break room. They also ask me to sign office birthday cards now. So, you're welcome Kari, you're co-workers don't hate you anymore.
My new, hard working, reputation was part of the reason I was kind of excited for my performance review last Thursday. In my old job performance reviews weren't just how you behaved at work but also a rigorous review of your portfolio and work and how much profit you made the firm, and if it wasn't enough you didn't get a Christmas bonus, and if it was too low you got fired. Very stressful stuff. This time? I wasn't in charge of anything that important and I was doing a bang up job at it, everyone seemed to think so....which is why I was annoyed but not truly surprised how it went down.
Walking into Latherman's office I could smell the cologne in the air, not cheap stuff but even a little bit of decent cologne goes along way. I sit down in the chair across from his desk, hands crossed in my lap, ankles crossed on the floor. A very professional yet feminine way of sitting that I've been working on perfecting so that I'm not slouching confidently with my legs spread open.
Latherman gives me this look as if he's trying to either make me feel small or make himself seem bigger. He holds up the paper that has my performance review. "I have to say Kari, I'm a little disappointed in you. This review is significantly worse than last years, and you were doing so well this year before falling off."
I cock one eyebrow a little, knowing what a complete load of bullshit that is. If anything the opposite is true, my work has gotten a lot better in the last four months. "How do you mean, Mr. Latherman?"
"Nick" he says
"How has my performance fallen off, Nick" I repeat.
"You used to go the extra mile" he begins "You'd stay late, work weekends. You had a real commitment to this company. Now you just come in at 9 and leave at 5."
Not seeing just how being able to do the same work in less time was a detriment, I pressed further. "If you notice, all of my work has been done before I leave, I've just needed to spend more time at home in recent months."
"Really?" He says with a sleazy smirk "That's not what those photos on your Instagram show." I'm not sure which is weirder, a man that age using Instagram or following his secretary. "It just seems you aren't making the same effort. The last time you and I worked overtime together was that trip to Maine."
Something about the way he said "Work Overtime" made everything click in my mind. This wasn't "I think your a bad receptionist" this was "We used to have sex and now we aren't having sex and I don't like that so I'm going to make it seem like its your fault"
I looked at the photo on his desk of him, a woman who I presumed was his wife, and two kids. Shameless. "And what do you suggest I do, Nick?" I say, not breaking my poker face.
"Well for starters, the way you've been dressing isn't up to snuff. Remember, you're first face clients see when they walk in the door. You want to be looking your best. That means dressing like you give a damn and maybe putting on some makeup."
I was livid. Boiling inside. I've worked long enough that I've had to sit through enough sexual harassment videos and this was a pretty clear cut case. I should have walked out. Quit and called HR, the Labor Department, and a ball-busting lawyer. I should have at least told him off, that he wasn't nearly as successful as he thinks he is and his small potatoes regional financial firm would be a mid afternoon snack for some of the brokers I've worked with, both male and female. I really should have punched him.
Thats what I would have done, if I had been me. But I'm not me. I'm Kari. Me has an MBA and a sizable nest egg if I ever had to make a move like that. I have options. Kari doesn't. She doesn't have her GED even, she has a kid, an apartment, and a car payment to make. She needed this job and she wasn't likely to find one better. It disgusted me that she had to sleep with the boss and be office eye candy to get it, but that was her decision. Quitting would probably put her on welfare, with me having to fill out all the paperwork.
I bit my lip and said "I'll take that into consideration" before heading home for the day.
When I got home I poured myself a drink and headed to the bedroom, looking through the closet. Now I was really glad I went out with Rosita to the club. I found the outfits that Kari normally wore to work. Short skirts with pantyhose, tight pants, low cut blouses. If I could survive a night of being grinded and groped I could survive 8 hours a day with some dirty old man staring at my ass. Its not like he wasn't doing it before.
And for the last week that's what I did. Receptionist-ing isn't any harder in a skirt or 3 inch heels, although you are more cognizant of the fact that youre wearing them, and some of the ladies gave me a couple of dirty looks, but overall my increased job performance allowed them to overlook the cleavage.
Latherman seemed to approve, he gave Kari a small raise.
-Lane
Seriously though, I began doing this to clear my head and while I know that people read this to have one of them interact with me...it somehow made it seem like people were listening, and it felt a bit therapeutic. So to answer your question, Anonymous, no Jaime did call but he did text. Just not anything interesting. Just hi. I wasn't too keen on stringing him along so I just kinda...didn't answer back. I feel like a bit of a bitch but I think he took the hint.
On to the real reason I'm posting. Work stuff. I'd thought I'd caught a break when my new body had a job at the same type of company as my old body, but since I'm just the receptionist it doesn't really carryover. This company could make novelty wigs and I would probably be doing the same thing and using as much knowledge of investing as I do working at this investment firm.
The thing is, I'm a great receptionist. Like really really good. It isn't rocket science, but it can overwhelm you if you don't stay on top of it. Clients can be left on hold or even forgotten, wrong extensions could be used, messages could be lost, important faxes might go to the wrong place. Within a week I had learned the system that Kari used and withing two weeks I had improved on it, using parts of the software that she either didn't know about or didn't bother using.
It didn't go unnoticed either since my co-workers seem appreciative, especially the women who have started being nice to me. The men were always nice to me, even if it was mostly poor attempts at flirting. A lot of them think that this is The Office and they're Jim Halpert and they can impress the pretty (and humble) receptionist by walking up and telling some lame joke they just saw on Reddit because they don't know that she had just read the same joke a few hours earlier. But the women? The women were cold to me. Not anything catty or mean directly, but a few looks here and there and a couple of times they'd stop talking when I entered the Ladies' room, which is perfectly fine by me because that isn't a place for talking and one of the more irritating little differences of being a girl.
The women? Less of a warm atmosphere. I don't know if they knew that Kari was screwing the boss or they just suspected it and observed evidence of it, but you could understand how someone who went to college and worked to get a job would look down on someone they thought was only there because of who they slept with. I might sound a bit arrogant if I say part of it was that Kari is the prettiest girl in the office, by a landslide, and she used to dress a lot more sexily and I can see how that would be construed as unprofessional.
In fact I know it was, since the first compliment I got from one of them was how much more "professional" I seemed lately. It was from Joanne, the woman who had filled in for Kari while she had been in Maine. She was in her late thirties it seemed, but she was low on the totem pole of analysts at the firm so she was the one who filled in, but her resentment seemed to have evaporated in the last four months (Has it been that long?!). She and the other ladies have stopped with the bathroom cold shoulder and have commenced with smiles and greetings when I walk into the break room. They also ask me to sign office birthday cards now. So, you're welcome Kari, you're co-workers don't hate you anymore.
My new, hard working, reputation was part of the reason I was kind of excited for my performance review last Thursday. In my old job performance reviews weren't just how you behaved at work but also a rigorous review of your portfolio and work and how much profit you made the firm, and if it wasn't enough you didn't get a Christmas bonus, and if it was too low you got fired. Very stressful stuff. This time? I wasn't in charge of anything that important and I was doing a bang up job at it, everyone seemed to think so....which is why I was annoyed but not truly surprised how it went down.
Walking into Latherman's office I could smell the cologne in the air, not cheap stuff but even a little bit of decent cologne goes along way. I sit down in the chair across from his desk, hands crossed in my lap, ankles crossed on the floor. A very professional yet feminine way of sitting that I've been working on perfecting so that I'm not slouching confidently with my legs spread open.
Latherman gives me this look as if he's trying to either make me feel small or make himself seem bigger. He holds up the paper that has my performance review. "I have to say Kari, I'm a little disappointed in you. This review is significantly worse than last years, and you were doing so well this year before falling off."
I cock one eyebrow a little, knowing what a complete load of bullshit that is. If anything the opposite is true, my work has gotten a lot better in the last four months. "How do you mean, Mr. Latherman?"
"Nick" he says
"How has my performance fallen off, Nick" I repeat.
"You used to go the extra mile" he begins "You'd stay late, work weekends. You had a real commitment to this company. Now you just come in at 9 and leave at 5."
Not seeing just how being able to do the same work in less time was a detriment, I pressed further. "If you notice, all of my work has been done before I leave, I've just needed to spend more time at home in recent months."
"Really?" He says with a sleazy smirk "That's not what those photos on your Instagram show." I'm not sure which is weirder, a man that age using Instagram or following his secretary. "It just seems you aren't making the same effort. The last time you and I worked overtime together was that trip to Maine."
Something about the way he said "Work Overtime" made everything click in my mind. This wasn't "I think your a bad receptionist" this was "We used to have sex and now we aren't having sex and I don't like that so I'm going to make it seem like its your fault"
I looked at the photo on his desk of him, a woman who I presumed was his wife, and two kids. Shameless. "And what do you suggest I do, Nick?" I say, not breaking my poker face.
"Well for starters, the way you've been dressing isn't up to snuff. Remember, you're first face clients see when they walk in the door. You want to be looking your best. That means dressing like you give a damn and maybe putting on some makeup."
I was livid. Boiling inside. I've worked long enough that I've had to sit through enough sexual harassment videos and this was a pretty clear cut case. I should have walked out. Quit and called HR, the Labor Department, and a ball-busting lawyer. I should have at least told him off, that he wasn't nearly as successful as he thinks he is and his small potatoes regional financial firm would be a mid afternoon snack for some of the brokers I've worked with, both male and female. I really should have punched him.
Thats what I would have done, if I had been me. But I'm not me. I'm Kari. Me has an MBA and a sizable nest egg if I ever had to make a move like that. I have options. Kari doesn't. She doesn't have her GED even, she has a kid, an apartment, and a car payment to make. She needed this job and she wasn't likely to find one better. It disgusted me that she had to sleep with the boss and be office eye candy to get it, but that was her decision. Quitting would probably put her on welfare, with me having to fill out all the paperwork.
I bit my lip and said "I'll take that into consideration" before heading home for the day.
When I got home I poured myself a drink and headed to the bedroom, looking through the closet. Now I was really glad I went out with Rosita to the club. I found the outfits that Kari normally wore to work. Short skirts with pantyhose, tight pants, low cut blouses. If I could survive a night of being grinded and groped I could survive 8 hours a day with some dirty old man staring at my ass. Its not like he wasn't doing it before.
And for the last week that's what I did. Receptionist-ing isn't any harder in a skirt or 3 inch heels, although you are more cognizant of the fact that youre wearing them, and some of the ladies gave me a couple of dirty looks, but overall my increased job performance allowed them to overlook the cleavage.
Latherman seemed to approve, he gave Kari a small raise.
-Lane
Wednesday, October 28, 2015
Tori: Things are good...right?
Sometimes I regret the fact that I never experienced sex as a man. The few women (mostly one woman) I ever had in my life did give me a certain level of intimacy, but basically 99.9% of my experience is from the female side of the equation. It would be nice to know what it is like to be a man exerting his power over a female partner - and arguably that desire is what led me to pursue my arrangement with Chuck and Jules earlier this year (ultimately, I didn't feel so assertive when we came down to it.) There will always be doubt about what could have been, but I've made my peace with that, it's part of me for the rest of my life. For the most part I'm pretty happy with the way things have worked out. And for the a lot of that part, I'm ecstatic.
Men can be disappointing. Not just as sexual partners, where even the best can be very inconsistent (whereas I seem to be able to accomplish my goal for them just by being present - I've won some of my highest marks on nights when I simply did nothing at all.) but as emotional support. Loving them is difficult.
I like Cute Hipster Mike a lot. I'm very happy with him. He's friendly, funny, charming, sweet, smart... he's not some mindless careerist, he has his own definition of success in life that I find really appealing.
And he's, well... good in bed. Great. Amazing. When he wants to be. We can go for long, long periods of time some nights, and at times when most men would be peaking, he has just been getting started. That's amazing. He has moves I've never seen before. And while in my quieter moments I sometimes let myself think "What if things had turned out different," in the heat of the moment, there's no time for such thoughts, because the only thing going through my head is "Yes, yes, more! I want to be fucked like this for the rest of my life!" He makes me feel like an incredible being of pure sexual delight, and he makes me feel sexy and desirable in a way I couldn't have been in my old life. In a way I couldn't even have been at an earlier point in this life. When we're at our best, when I'm feeling his movement radiating through my entire body, his hands guiding my hips or massaging my soft parts, I feel like I am where I belong.
But he has his off nights too, where he just doesn't seem that into it, where he just wants it quickly and doesn't take as much care as he could. So I settle for what I can get and wait for next time. it's not bad, and it's unfair to expect 110% every time out, but when someone gets you hooked on fine dining, a microwave dinner doesn't really cut it.
That's sort of a metaphor for our whole relationship, too. He likes me a lot, he makes that clear. We're not sure yet if it's love, and he's resisted attempts for me to label it. But what's wrong with wanting a little stability? It's been months. We should be stable. I feel like we're past the "Oh, it's still new" phase. I don't have any doubts, and I don't know where his would be coming from. But maybe I'm skipping ahead a bit.
I'm falling for him. The L-word is imminent. But if I let it out and he doesn't have one ready to match it... guys, that's going to hurt.
Sometimes he takes too long to respond to my texts and I get worried. Sometimes he blows me off at the last minute, but he apologizes profusely. And I try not to let it sting, but... I can't like him less than I do, and I can't seem to make him need me the way I'm starting to need him. I've never felt so out of sync with someone I liked so much, and so desperate to make it work.
I'm one frustrated girl.
But when it's good... when we're lying on the couch watching late night TV, when I get to wake up with him on a Sunday morning, when he does send me thoughtful texts or cute in jokes... my heart gets all fluttery.
Who is this guy? What is this power he has over me?
I mean, who would have thought being a girl would make me such a... girl?
Men can be disappointing. Not just as sexual partners, where even the best can be very inconsistent (whereas I seem to be able to accomplish my goal for them just by being present - I've won some of my highest marks on nights when I simply did nothing at all.) but as emotional support. Loving them is difficult.
I like Cute Hipster Mike a lot. I'm very happy with him. He's friendly, funny, charming, sweet, smart... he's not some mindless careerist, he has his own definition of success in life that I find really appealing.
And he's, well... good in bed. Great. Amazing. When he wants to be. We can go for long, long periods of time some nights, and at times when most men would be peaking, he has just been getting started. That's amazing. He has moves I've never seen before. And while in my quieter moments I sometimes let myself think "What if things had turned out different," in the heat of the moment, there's no time for such thoughts, because the only thing going through my head is "Yes, yes, more! I want to be fucked like this for the rest of my life!" He makes me feel like an incredible being of pure sexual delight, and he makes me feel sexy and desirable in a way I couldn't have been in my old life. In a way I couldn't even have been at an earlier point in this life. When we're at our best, when I'm feeling his movement radiating through my entire body, his hands guiding my hips or massaging my soft parts, I feel like I am where I belong.
But he has his off nights too, where he just doesn't seem that into it, where he just wants it quickly and doesn't take as much care as he could. So I settle for what I can get and wait for next time. it's not bad, and it's unfair to expect 110% every time out, but when someone gets you hooked on fine dining, a microwave dinner doesn't really cut it.
That's sort of a metaphor for our whole relationship, too. He likes me a lot, he makes that clear. We're not sure yet if it's love, and he's resisted attempts for me to label it. But what's wrong with wanting a little stability? It's been months. We should be stable. I feel like we're past the "Oh, it's still new" phase. I don't have any doubts, and I don't know where his would be coming from. But maybe I'm skipping ahead a bit.
I'm falling for him. The L-word is imminent. But if I let it out and he doesn't have one ready to match it... guys, that's going to hurt.
Sometimes he takes too long to respond to my texts and I get worried. Sometimes he blows me off at the last minute, but he apologizes profusely. And I try not to let it sting, but... I can't like him less than I do, and I can't seem to make him need me the way I'm starting to need him. I've never felt so out of sync with someone I liked so much, and so desperate to make it work.
I'm one frustrated girl.
But when it's good... when we're lying on the couch watching late night TV, when I get to wake up with him on a Sunday morning, when he does send me thoughtful texts or cute in jokes... my heart gets all fluttery.
Who is this guy? What is this power he has over me?
I mean, who would have thought being a girl would make me such a... girl?
Monday, October 26, 2015
Jordan/"Missy" Yuan-wei: Back to School
I've been trying not to rub Benjamin's face in how good the life he might have had if he spoke Chinese can be, but let's face it - not only is it pretty fucking sweet at times, but if you were making a return visit to the Trading Post Inn, knew that your old life was gone, and could choose any room in the place without screwing over anybody else, you would probably choose someone like Lee Yuan-Wei, for three reasons.
First, she's young and hot, and all things being equal, that's better than the alternative. Maybe all things aren't equal - maybe you've got issues with changing ethnicity, and, fuck, I wouldn't exactly be down with giving up my dick if I hadn't had a year to get used to being without it. But within whatever bounds you set, it is nice to wake up and like the naked body that you see in the mirror. I like looking down and seeing good-sized boobs and nice legs whenever I want to. I am finding that I mostly like people talking to me rather than looking away. You deal with more assholes, but you have more choices.
(Her family being rich probably goes under this category - the fact is, the Inn's clientele probably tends to fall within a certain income bracket, with Yuan-wei being an outlier who was only there by accident. You're generally going to wind up "not poor, but not exactly wealthy" 99% of the time.)
Second, she's a college student. Practically, this is way better than having to dive into a job without any sort of training; you'll be expected to screw up and learn. If you know that this is for the long term, you can either point your new life at something familiar or whatever you've decided you should have done instead.
Plus, college itself is awesome. There are parties, clubs, an environment full of young people with similar interests, student days and discounts... If you've been through it before, you're probably remembering having more free time and figuring that will only increase with experience. Shit, I started missing college about a month into my first job and suspect that for a lot of us, the main thing that keeps us from going back for a masters/PhD within a couple of years is the student loans that need to be fed.
As for the last thing... Maybe she isn't officially one yet, but she's at least on the path to being an actor or actress. I'll bet a whole fuckton of people who have visited the Inn and wind up stuck in some other life wind up doing community theater or auditioning for something because, shit, everyone knows that there's good money in it if you make it to the top and we spend our whole lives pretending to be someone else - we obviously have a head up on all the normal people who we'd be auditioning against, right?
Well, most people have had practice pretending to be someone else. I stayed in and tried to be myself as much as circumstances would allow, and while I don't regret it much at all, it means that I don't have nearly the experience in finding ways to turn someone wanting something from me into a way to discover something about who "Lee Yuan-wei" is expected to be while simultaneously satisfying that expectation.
Which is a problem, because she has chosen the most painfully fucking social major possible.
Me, I majored in computer science, and while not all of the stereotypes were true about everyone, there were certainly a lot of us that lived like Morlocks, coding deep into the night, finishing off a two-liter of Mountain Dew, and maybe doing the same with World of Warcraft if there wasn't something due that week. Not everybody was like this, and there were some classes where they put you on teams to work on a larger assignment - some where that was the whole point - but you can get through a lot of a CS major by doing the reading, coding, and showing up for the final.
Theater? Not a fucking chance!
ALL of the courses Yuan-Wei signed up for are pretty much mandatory-attendance. Even if we're just watching a movie, they get stopped and we've got to discuss the scene, and one of the professors is old and absent-minded enough that he'll frequently wander back to his desk and make notes about who is participating and who isn't, and probably which ones of us are saying stupid shit that gets laughed at.
And that's before you get to the actual acting classes.
I'm only in one right now, and it's a really bizarre thing in that there aren't a lot of concrete things to learn - no "this is how you cry on cue" stuff, really - but a whole lot of talking, trying to relate what's in the text to something from your own life to try and bring some emotion out. tn don't suck at reading something and getting what it needs, but it sometimes feels like my classmates, who took similar courses with Yuan-wei last year, are suggesting things that I can't access and making me feel like I have to hold back because they know "me" better than I do and me trying to inject myself into it just makes me come off as insincere.
There is also not a whole lot of immediate, reliable feedback. I don't have the practice that the original Yuan-wei did, and it's kind of like being in the batting cage but not seeing where the balls you hit are heading. I often feel like I'm really nailing something only to be told that I'm way off.
Most of my classmates seem nice, though the guys seem way nicer. I don't think it's too conceited to chalk a lot of that up to them wanting to fuck me - I still get that feeling when I see myself in the mirror - but it holds for the gay guys and the ones who just aren't into Asian chicks as well. At first, I had it down to the inverse - envious of my hotness and family wealth, and a bit of how Benjamin warned me that men really have no inkling of how competitive girls can be (unless it's over them). It turns out, though, that theater is just a hyper-competitive major here - something like 70% wash out by the end of their sophomore year - which, naturally, is where I landed.
Of course, it's not just competitive as a major in this particular college, but as an activity. I'm not a rival for the guys in the program, but there are only so many female leads, strong supporting roles, and so on down to complete background players to go around. And it's not like there are many under the school's umbrella - stuff I'd get actual credit toward a degree for - specifically for Asian women and thus with a smaller field.
I don't think many of my female classmates are actively sabotaging me, but I sort of suspect it might be in the backs of their minds. I don't know how necessary it may actually be - even the auditions I feel like I crush don't seem to set much reaction at all.
Will I fall far behind if I don't get a role in a fall production? I don't know. Just have to keep fucking trying, I guess - if I'm going to be the best possible Yuan-wei I can be, the way Benny is impressing people as me, I'm going to have to get the hang of it.
-Jordo / Yuan-Wei / Missy
Tuesday, October 20, 2015
Lane/Kari: Ladies' Night Out
The weekend before was an experience, to say the least. So far I'd been staying on the sidelines, laying low, and slowly dipping my toes into the metaphorical pool womanhood. Saturday night was like being shoved in unexpectedly with all your clothes on and your cell phone in your pocket and the water being very very cold. That metaphorical shove came from Kari's BFF Rosita (She actually goes by Rosie, which is short for Rosario, but since one of Erin's friends also has that name I'll call her Rosita here, which is apparently what her Mom calls her).
I had texted Rosita telling her to come over at 3, because I needed help getting ready. The excuse I gave her was I had no idea what outfit to wear after not going out for so long and needed her advice. She was happy to oblige, on the condition that I let her wear something from my closet. I didn't have a problem with her borrowing Kari's clothes, since technically I was borrowing them too. A few minutes after Ashely had left for a friend's the doorbell rang and my answering it was met with a squee and a hug from a girl overjoyed to see her friend after a long time. "Chica, I missed you so much!" More hugs. More squee-ing.
I'm gonna take a moment here to comment on the "Chica" part. One major reason I've been avoiding talking to Kari's family and close friends is that I don't speak Spanish. I studied it for a few years in high school and I know a lot of words, but actually being able to casually rapid fire speak and understand, not even close. Part of my fear stemmed from reading this blog, way back when Arthur got turned into Liz and it appeared to all her friends and family that she suddenly seemed to forget how t speak Korean. Of all the little lies I have to tell on a daily basis, I was hoping to have to avoid being a Latina girl who no longer spoke Spanish. This is actually a whole thing with me, suddenly belonging to a different culture and being a little squeamish about behaving incorrectly or even offensively. My conversation earlier in the week with Kari helped assuage that a little. She was born here and her family had been in the states since the 70s, and while she could speak Spanish her family and friends mostly spoke English with a little slang mixed in, hence "Chica".
Being around Rosita I didn't feel the need to overdo it and try to convince her I was Kari, which is another new thing with me. When I first got here I was always nervous at her job or around Ashley but despite my best efforts they always commented on how I was acting weirdly. So with Rosita I figured I might as well just act naturally, and if she says something just make some half-assed excuse, besides its not like the curse would allow her to believe the truth if I told her.
Rosita is actually about the same size as Kari, height and width wise. Her boobs are a little bigger and her bottom is a little smaller, but she would have no problem wearing anything in her closet. She's wearing sweatpants and a tshirt with her hair in a ponytail, but her makeup was already done and she looked pretty. Objectively. One thing I've noticed in my few months as a woman is that I can still tell when a girl is pretty, but I can tell it knowing my judgment isn't being clouded by testosterone. If I were still a man I'd probably find Rosita sexually attractive, but now its more appreciation than desire.
We headed into the bedroom and she opened up the closet. "You take a shower while I pick out outfits" she directed as she started pulling hangers out of the section that I never really touched.
I waited until I was in the bathroom to strip, even though Rosita probably wouldn't have noticed or cared if I did it in her presence, she'd probably seen this body naked dozens of times. Women are less weird about getting naked in front of each other I've noticed, but I still haven't adapted. Once I was nude I stared at myself in the mirror like I did most times. Maybe a different face is something you get used to, people like Tori seemed to have, but I'm not at that point yet, mainly because I intend for this to be temporary.
I took my time in the shower, because this body has more sensitive skin and hot water feel heavenly now. I washed my hair because I hadn't in awhile, knowing that Rosita would be able to dry it and do something with it. Lifepro tip if you ever find yourself a woman: always be aware of the weather and time you have later before you get your hair wet, it takes forever to dry. I also hadn't shaved my legs in awhile since I wore mostly pants to work, but figured whatever Rosita had in mind wardrobe-wise wasn't going to include comfortable slacks. I used the lady razor and shaving cream I bought myself, Kari didn't have her own. Apparently waxing was more her style. I briefly considered keeping her monthly appointment but chickened out because 1)Ow and 2)Waxing is really expensive, like 120 dollars for everything she normally had done.
Once I was all clean and smooth I toweled off and covered myself in some bodyspray that I've come to enjoy before putting on a robe and heading back to my bedroom. Rosita had covered my bed with clothes, all dresses, skirts, and bits of fabric I couldn't immediately identify just by looking at it. "Have you decided yet?" I said clearing some space and sitting on the bed.
"This" she said with an excited grin "Would be so perfect. I don't think I've ever seen you wear it." She was holding up a dress that was zebra print which looked like it barely went halfway down the thigh and squeezed everything.
"I was thinking pants maybe?" I said
"Great Idea" She said "Show off the booty"
Not my reasoning, but I was glad she agreed until she pulled a pair of white pants off the bed that looked like they were made of leather. I took them and a pair of black panties and went down the hall into the bathroom to put them on. I got the pants about a quarterway up my thigh before they got tight and halfway up before they stopped moving anymore. Not only could I not slide them up...I couldn't slide them down either.
I was glad Ashley was out of the house, otherwise she would have seen me waddling down the hall topless and would have probably laughed harder than Rosita giggled when she saw me. "Little help?" I asked, laughing myself when I saw in the full length mirror. Rosita hand me stand up and yanked and tugged and tried to get the pants up and after a few minutes and a couple of painful yelps she gave in. "Its not gonna happen, Chica, you're butt is too big"
Getting them off required me lying back on the bed with my legs in the air while she got the pants off without damaging them. "Have you put on weight since I last saw you? When was the last time you went to the gym?" she asked
I honestly didn't know. I didn't weigh myself when I first became Kari and I never really thought about it. I don't normally eat poorly, I never did as a man, but if Kari normally went to the gym and I stopped this body's smaller size and slower metabolism might have sent any excess calories straight to my ass and thighs. I usually wear loose fitting stuff at work and sweatpants around the house, so its possible I wouldn't noticed an extra inch, but leather pants would make it apparent.
Rosita looked at all the clothes on the bed in thought. "I don't think any of this is going to fit". This was only a slight setback as she headed back into the closet and I could hear her digging in the back. She emerged with a red flowered dress that looked like it was made of a stretchy material. "I knew you'd still have this" She said with a sly smile "After all the fun we used to have in it. Its from a few years after you had Ashely, and you were a little bigger than, it should it. "Try it on"
She handed me the dress and as I was leaving she said "Do it here in case you get stuck again, tubby". Her tone was playful, but the word kind of stung. I stepped into the dress and wiggled it up snugly over my hips. As Rosita zipped me up she gave me a pat on back "Perfect". She straightened out the hem "But you'll have to lose the panties, they're showing".
Not wanting to walk around commando in a dress, I slipped out of the bikini briefs and grabbed a thong. Those had been weird to get used to at first but after a few minutes you barely notice them. Hiking the dress up, I slid them up between my cheeks and over my hips before smoothing the dress back down again. I caught a glimpse of my dress in the mirror. Rosita did have a great eye for fashion, I'll give her that. This dress looked amazing on me, hugging every curve and showing off my breasts despite giving just a little bit of support. I turned to the side a little bit and saw that Rosita wasn't kidding, I did have a nice ass when I wore clothes that would show it off.
When I turned around I saw Rosita had stripped and was now standing naked holding the zebra striped dress. I averted my gaze as she put it on until the had me zip her up. It looked great on her, I will admit, and she even joked about keeping it if I don't fit into it again.
Once we were dressed I sat down in the small chair in the bedroom while she did my hair and makeup. It was kinda like getting a haircut, except she expected me to talk back. I mainly listened to her gossip, and told her a few things that had being going on with Ashley, as well as complain about some of the girls at work. I think I may have gotten the hang of "girl talk".
When she was finished she turned the swivel chair around to the vanity mirror and I gasped. I was...gorgeous. I don't know if I ever really described what Kari looked like, but she has smooth brown skin, big deep brown eyes, full lips and high cheek bones. Pretty features even when I'm just wearing business attire or ponytail and yoga pants around the house. Rosita is a cosmetologist and she really knew how to make my face pop. She knew just which colors and styles to use. She had plucked my eyebrows thin, which had hurt a little but now they perfectly framed my eyes. Kari's eyes might just be her best feature, and Rosita had shaded them so they somehow appeared bright and mysterious while at the same time dusky. I pushed my lips together and tasted the lipstick that made them seem even fuller than normal. The only way to describe how I felt was...good. Being pretty made up for the whole being a girl and single mom shocker and it made me feel confident. I smiled instinctively and this only made me look prettier.
Fortunately either the real Kari isn't good with hair and makeup or Rosita is so good she'd rather do it herself, but she didn't ask me to return the favor. She sat chatting and primping in front of the mirror while I played with my phone (and took a few selfies).
*********************************************
I let Rosita drive because I didn't know where the club she wanted to go to was, but we took my car because I had more gas. The Detroit Metro is weird because the bigger suburbs function as their only little mini-cities, and Trenton has a lot of cool bars to go to and have a drink, but Rosita wanted to head into the city where there would be more people as well as a younger crowd.
When I first moved here I was surprised by what I found. From what you see on the news a lot of people would think that Detroit was giant black hole of blight with a Mad Max like populace, and while there are a lot of spots where I wouldn't go to in my old body, let alone this tiny and weak one, there are actually some really nice areas, particularly Downtown and Midtown. Cheap rent has brought in a lot of recent college grads and small businesses to those areas, including the one that I work for. There are dozens of fun little hipster bars right near my work we could have gone to, but we skipped those and headed to the neighborhood in the southwest part of the city called Mexicantown, which if you couldn't guess, was the city's traditionally Latino neighborhood.
We parked in a guarded parking deck, one thing you have to love about the Motor City is that its built for cars and there is ample parking and it can be quite cheap if there isn't a sporting event nearby. The cool autumn air hit me as I focused on walking in heels, making sure to take short enough strides that this mini dress didn't ride up and give everyone watching a show.
The club had a pretty long line, what with it being Saturday night and I was about to suggest going someplace less crowded when Rosita walked up to the bouncer and said "We're on the list" in a causal manner.
The bouncer looked at us for a second, never once consulted a clipboard or "list" of any sort, and let us through. Apparently "We're on the list" means "We're sexy women and you want us in your club so that people will buy alcohol for us." Sound business strategy actually.
The crowd was actually pretty diverse despite being in a Latino neighborhood, because, again, hipsters. We headed for the bar and Rosita ordered a Cosmo while I asked for some light lager made by Bell's. I was about to pay for it when I heard a voice say "I got it", followed by two guys standing next to us and smiling.
Uncomfortable as that was, it wasn't unexpected. I've been to clubs before, I've been a man in a club before, I know that guys are going to buy pretty girls drinks. So I smiled and took a sip while they introduced themselves. Enrique, the one who had decided to flirt with me was a nice enough guy but a bit of a bore. He talked about music mostly and we didn't exactly have the same tastes and it was a little loud to carry on an interesting conversation anyway. As I finished my beer I looked over at Rosita and saw she was equally uninterested we thanked them for the drinks and made an excuse to leave the bar area, which meant being dragged to the dance floor.
I was never much of a dancer before, in fact I looked downright silly doing it. Typical "White guy who doesn't know what to do with his arms" and I had a good sense of humor about it. Becoming Kari didn't automatically make me a better dancer, but nobody called me out on it when I basically did what Rosita did. It helps that for girls dancing is a lot of hip moving and butt wiggling, and thats more easily accomplished when you have more pronounced hips and butt. And you know what? It's fun. Like really fun to just let loose and feel sexy and move with the music. I don't know how long we were doing it but we must have had four more drinks bought for us, Cosmos for me but I didn't feel like correcting the order or drinking a ton of beer.
Five drinks in this body is not the same as five drinks in my old body, and my inhibitions had definitely dropped. So much so that I didn't jump away when this guy came up behind me and started dancing with me. I wasn't quite over my paralyzing fear of being touched by men, which wasn't helped by the constant awkward advances of my boss but tonight I didn't mind that this guy had his arm around my waist and was grinding his crotch into my ass.
He expertly twirled me around, so that we were face to face, or rather face to chest. I remember thinking that he was tall, and wondered if I had been that tall. He wrapped his arm around me and we danced till the end of this song, and the next song, and the one after that. When I needed a break I looked over at Rosita who was at a table sitting on the lap of a tall black guy with a shaved head, who I briefly remember thinking was pretty cute. Turns out he and the guy I had been dancing with had also been friends, and we sat down at their table.
Rosita was too engrossed with talking and occasional kissing to pay attention to me, so I had another Cosmo while I talked with Jaime, the guy I'd been dancing with, about...truth is I don't really remember what. He must of been pretty funny because I remember laughing a lot, but that also might have been the Cosmos talking. Whatever they were saying they eventually said to my brain that my bladder was full, and I headed off to the ladies room, or rather the line to the ladies room.
After about 10 minutes of concentrating on not wetting myself in public I made it into the restroom and...wow. Any myth about girls being cleaner and neater than guys either isn't true or goes way out the window when girls have been drinking. I'm not going to got into graphic detail other than ew, and I had to concentrate and hover. While I was trying to avoid falling I imagined this was why a lot of girls went to the bathroom in pairs, and maybe I should have asked Rosita to join me.
In fact I really should have considering when I finally made it out to table both Rosita and her guy were gone, leaving just Jaime there with another Cosmo for me. I asked him if he had seen my friend, and he said no and then began chatting me up again. I was a little worried until I decided to check my phone and saw a text from Rosita saying she had gone home with him and not to wait up.
This sobered me up a bit. Not because I was judging Rosita, she's a grown woman and she can do whatever she wants with her body. Just the realization that the guy had made his move at exactly the right time and that Jaime was apparently a pretty damn good wingman. I suddenly found myself wondering what his expectations of ME were, and the fastest way for me to set him straight.
He pushed the cosmo over to me and I shook it off "Actually I need to be going" I say to him, standing up wobbily.
"So soon?" he asks
"Yeah, my daughter has somewhere to be tomorrow" I say with emphasis on the word daughter. I find that mentioning Ashley is a useful tool for getting a lot of men to lose interest. Jaime wasn't one of those men, and he seemed to understand, but he asked for my number. Not having the good sense to give him a fake one I scribbled my real number down on a napkin and headed out the door.
I was luckily enough that despite being way to drunk to drive, I was lucid enough to know that I shouldn't. I leaned against the side of the building, in the well lit area near the bouncer, and used my phone to call an Uber, because Detroit taxis are some of the worst in the country. I had brought along 60 dollars for drinks, and wound up not using any of it because drinks were bought for me all night, which was good because the Uber ride was about 38 dollars after a generous tip. I managed to make it into the apartment but not into the bed, just collapsing on the couch.
****************************
I woke up the next morning to a voice standing over me saying "Where's the car?"
I looked up at Ashley, who had a look of worry and annoyance on her face
"It's in Detroit" I say groggily, yawning
"So you didn't crash it?" a tone of relief was in her voice
"I didn't drive it" I corrected her
"Responsible. I'm impressed" she said making me think that the real Karina might not have thought twice about driving home with 5 or 6 drinks in her. "Pull your dress down, your ass is showing"
I looked back and saw that she was right, my cheeks were out there for everyone to see. I straitened the dress and sat up, my once fashionable hair now in my face. Brushing it back I saw Ashley putting a mug on the coffee table.
"Whats this?" I ask
"Hot water, honey, and lemon. For that hangover you probably have" she said walking out of the room without ever looking back. I couldn't tell if she was disappointed or not.
-Lane
I had texted Rosita telling her to come over at 3, because I needed help getting ready. The excuse I gave her was I had no idea what outfit to wear after not going out for so long and needed her advice. She was happy to oblige, on the condition that I let her wear something from my closet. I didn't have a problem with her borrowing Kari's clothes, since technically I was borrowing them too. A few minutes after Ashely had left for a friend's the doorbell rang and my answering it was met with a squee and a hug from a girl overjoyed to see her friend after a long time. "Chica, I missed you so much!" More hugs. More squee-ing.
I'm gonna take a moment here to comment on the "Chica" part. One major reason I've been avoiding talking to Kari's family and close friends is that I don't speak Spanish. I studied it for a few years in high school and I know a lot of words, but actually being able to casually rapid fire speak and understand, not even close. Part of my fear stemmed from reading this blog, way back when Arthur got turned into Liz and it appeared to all her friends and family that she suddenly seemed to forget how t speak Korean. Of all the little lies I have to tell on a daily basis, I was hoping to have to avoid being a Latina girl who no longer spoke Spanish. This is actually a whole thing with me, suddenly belonging to a different culture and being a little squeamish about behaving incorrectly or even offensively. My conversation earlier in the week with Kari helped assuage that a little. She was born here and her family had been in the states since the 70s, and while she could speak Spanish her family and friends mostly spoke English with a little slang mixed in, hence "Chica".
Being around Rosita I didn't feel the need to overdo it and try to convince her I was Kari, which is another new thing with me. When I first got here I was always nervous at her job or around Ashley but despite my best efforts they always commented on how I was acting weirdly. So with Rosita I figured I might as well just act naturally, and if she says something just make some half-assed excuse, besides its not like the curse would allow her to believe the truth if I told her.
Rosita is actually about the same size as Kari, height and width wise. Her boobs are a little bigger and her bottom is a little smaller, but she would have no problem wearing anything in her closet. She's wearing sweatpants and a tshirt with her hair in a ponytail, but her makeup was already done and she looked pretty. Objectively. One thing I've noticed in my few months as a woman is that I can still tell when a girl is pretty, but I can tell it knowing my judgment isn't being clouded by testosterone. If I were still a man I'd probably find Rosita sexually attractive, but now its more appreciation than desire.
We headed into the bedroom and she opened up the closet. "You take a shower while I pick out outfits" she directed as she started pulling hangers out of the section that I never really touched.
I waited until I was in the bathroom to strip, even though Rosita probably wouldn't have noticed or cared if I did it in her presence, she'd probably seen this body naked dozens of times. Women are less weird about getting naked in front of each other I've noticed, but I still haven't adapted. Once I was nude I stared at myself in the mirror like I did most times. Maybe a different face is something you get used to, people like Tori seemed to have, but I'm not at that point yet, mainly because I intend for this to be temporary.
I took my time in the shower, because this body has more sensitive skin and hot water feel heavenly now. I washed my hair because I hadn't in awhile, knowing that Rosita would be able to dry it and do something with it. Lifepro tip if you ever find yourself a woman: always be aware of the weather and time you have later before you get your hair wet, it takes forever to dry. I also hadn't shaved my legs in awhile since I wore mostly pants to work, but figured whatever Rosita had in mind wardrobe-wise wasn't going to include comfortable slacks. I used the lady razor and shaving cream I bought myself, Kari didn't have her own. Apparently waxing was more her style. I briefly considered keeping her monthly appointment but chickened out because 1)Ow and 2)Waxing is really expensive, like 120 dollars for everything she normally had done.
Once I was all clean and smooth I toweled off and covered myself in some bodyspray that I've come to enjoy before putting on a robe and heading back to my bedroom. Rosita had covered my bed with clothes, all dresses, skirts, and bits of fabric I couldn't immediately identify just by looking at it. "Have you decided yet?" I said clearing some space and sitting on the bed.
"This" she said with an excited grin "Would be so perfect. I don't think I've ever seen you wear it." She was holding up a dress that was zebra print which looked like it barely went halfway down the thigh and squeezed everything.
"I was thinking pants maybe?" I said
"Great Idea" She said "Show off the booty"
Not my reasoning, but I was glad she agreed until she pulled a pair of white pants off the bed that looked like they were made of leather. I took them and a pair of black panties and went down the hall into the bathroom to put them on. I got the pants about a quarterway up my thigh before they got tight and halfway up before they stopped moving anymore. Not only could I not slide them up...I couldn't slide them down either.
I was glad Ashley was out of the house, otherwise she would have seen me waddling down the hall topless and would have probably laughed harder than Rosita giggled when she saw me. "Little help?" I asked, laughing myself when I saw in the full length mirror. Rosita hand me stand up and yanked and tugged and tried to get the pants up and after a few minutes and a couple of painful yelps she gave in. "Its not gonna happen, Chica, you're butt is too big"
Getting them off required me lying back on the bed with my legs in the air while she got the pants off without damaging them. "Have you put on weight since I last saw you? When was the last time you went to the gym?" she asked
I honestly didn't know. I didn't weigh myself when I first became Kari and I never really thought about it. I don't normally eat poorly, I never did as a man, but if Kari normally went to the gym and I stopped this body's smaller size and slower metabolism might have sent any excess calories straight to my ass and thighs. I usually wear loose fitting stuff at work and sweatpants around the house, so its possible I wouldn't noticed an extra inch, but leather pants would make it apparent.
Rosita looked at all the clothes on the bed in thought. "I don't think any of this is going to fit". This was only a slight setback as she headed back into the closet and I could hear her digging in the back. She emerged with a red flowered dress that looked like it was made of a stretchy material. "I knew you'd still have this" She said with a sly smile "After all the fun we used to have in it. Its from a few years after you had Ashely, and you were a little bigger than, it should it. "Try it on"
She handed me the dress and as I was leaving she said "Do it here in case you get stuck again, tubby". Her tone was playful, but the word kind of stung. I stepped into the dress and wiggled it up snugly over my hips. As Rosita zipped me up she gave me a pat on back "Perfect". She straightened out the hem "But you'll have to lose the panties, they're showing".
Not wanting to walk around commando in a dress, I slipped out of the bikini briefs and grabbed a thong. Those had been weird to get used to at first but after a few minutes you barely notice them. Hiking the dress up, I slid them up between my cheeks and over my hips before smoothing the dress back down again. I caught a glimpse of my dress in the mirror. Rosita did have a great eye for fashion, I'll give her that. This dress looked amazing on me, hugging every curve and showing off my breasts despite giving just a little bit of support. I turned to the side a little bit and saw that Rosita wasn't kidding, I did have a nice ass when I wore clothes that would show it off.
When I turned around I saw Rosita had stripped and was now standing naked holding the zebra striped dress. I averted my gaze as she put it on until the had me zip her up. It looked great on her, I will admit, and she even joked about keeping it if I don't fit into it again.
Once we were dressed I sat down in the small chair in the bedroom while she did my hair and makeup. It was kinda like getting a haircut, except she expected me to talk back. I mainly listened to her gossip, and told her a few things that had being going on with Ashley, as well as complain about some of the girls at work. I think I may have gotten the hang of "girl talk".
When she was finished she turned the swivel chair around to the vanity mirror and I gasped. I was...gorgeous. I don't know if I ever really described what Kari looked like, but she has smooth brown skin, big deep brown eyes, full lips and high cheek bones. Pretty features even when I'm just wearing business attire or ponytail and yoga pants around the house. Rosita is a cosmetologist and she really knew how to make my face pop. She knew just which colors and styles to use. She had plucked my eyebrows thin, which had hurt a little but now they perfectly framed my eyes. Kari's eyes might just be her best feature, and Rosita had shaded them so they somehow appeared bright and mysterious while at the same time dusky. I pushed my lips together and tasted the lipstick that made them seem even fuller than normal. The only way to describe how I felt was...good. Being pretty made up for the whole being a girl and single mom shocker and it made me feel confident. I smiled instinctively and this only made me look prettier.
Fortunately either the real Kari isn't good with hair and makeup or Rosita is so good she'd rather do it herself, but she didn't ask me to return the favor. She sat chatting and primping in front of the mirror while I played with my phone (and took a few selfies).
*********************************************
I let Rosita drive because I didn't know where the club she wanted to go to was, but we took my car because I had more gas. The Detroit Metro is weird because the bigger suburbs function as their only little mini-cities, and Trenton has a lot of cool bars to go to and have a drink, but Rosita wanted to head into the city where there would be more people as well as a younger crowd.
When I first moved here I was surprised by what I found. From what you see on the news a lot of people would think that Detroit was giant black hole of blight with a Mad Max like populace, and while there are a lot of spots where I wouldn't go to in my old body, let alone this tiny and weak one, there are actually some really nice areas, particularly Downtown and Midtown. Cheap rent has brought in a lot of recent college grads and small businesses to those areas, including the one that I work for. There are dozens of fun little hipster bars right near my work we could have gone to, but we skipped those and headed to the neighborhood in the southwest part of the city called Mexicantown, which if you couldn't guess, was the city's traditionally Latino neighborhood.
We parked in a guarded parking deck, one thing you have to love about the Motor City is that its built for cars and there is ample parking and it can be quite cheap if there isn't a sporting event nearby. The cool autumn air hit me as I focused on walking in heels, making sure to take short enough strides that this mini dress didn't ride up and give everyone watching a show.
The club had a pretty long line, what with it being Saturday night and I was about to suggest going someplace less crowded when Rosita walked up to the bouncer and said "We're on the list" in a causal manner.
The bouncer looked at us for a second, never once consulted a clipboard or "list" of any sort, and let us through. Apparently "We're on the list" means "We're sexy women and you want us in your club so that people will buy alcohol for us." Sound business strategy actually.
The crowd was actually pretty diverse despite being in a Latino neighborhood, because, again, hipsters. We headed for the bar and Rosita ordered a Cosmo while I asked for some light lager made by Bell's. I was about to pay for it when I heard a voice say "I got it", followed by two guys standing next to us and smiling.
Uncomfortable as that was, it wasn't unexpected. I've been to clubs before, I've been a man in a club before, I know that guys are going to buy pretty girls drinks. So I smiled and took a sip while they introduced themselves. Enrique, the one who had decided to flirt with me was a nice enough guy but a bit of a bore. He talked about music mostly and we didn't exactly have the same tastes and it was a little loud to carry on an interesting conversation anyway. As I finished my beer I looked over at Rosita and saw she was equally uninterested we thanked them for the drinks and made an excuse to leave the bar area, which meant being dragged to the dance floor.
I was never much of a dancer before, in fact I looked downright silly doing it. Typical "White guy who doesn't know what to do with his arms" and I had a good sense of humor about it. Becoming Kari didn't automatically make me a better dancer, but nobody called me out on it when I basically did what Rosita did. It helps that for girls dancing is a lot of hip moving and butt wiggling, and thats more easily accomplished when you have more pronounced hips and butt. And you know what? It's fun. Like really fun to just let loose and feel sexy and move with the music. I don't know how long we were doing it but we must have had four more drinks bought for us, Cosmos for me but I didn't feel like correcting the order or drinking a ton of beer.
Five drinks in this body is not the same as five drinks in my old body, and my inhibitions had definitely dropped. So much so that I didn't jump away when this guy came up behind me and started dancing with me. I wasn't quite over my paralyzing fear of being touched by men, which wasn't helped by the constant awkward advances of my boss but tonight I didn't mind that this guy had his arm around my waist and was grinding his crotch into my ass.
He expertly twirled me around, so that we were face to face, or rather face to chest. I remember thinking that he was tall, and wondered if I had been that tall. He wrapped his arm around me and we danced till the end of this song, and the next song, and the one after that. When I needed a break I looked over at Rosita who was at a table sitting on the lap of a tall black guy with a shaved head, who I briefly remember thinking was pretty cute. Turns out he and the guy I had been dancing with had also been friends, and we sat down at their table.
Rosita was too engrossed with talking and occasional kissing to pay attention to me, so I had another Cosmo while I talked with Jaime, the guy I'd been dancing with, about...truth is I don't really remember what. He must of been pretty funny because I remember laughing a lot, but that also might have been the Cosmos talking. Whatever they were saying they eventually said to my brain that my bladder was full, and I headed off to the ladies room, or rather the line to the ladies room.
After about 10 minutes of concentrating on not wetting myself in public I made it into the restroom and...wow. Any myth about girls being cleaner and neater than guys either isn't true or goes way out the window when girls have been drinking. I'm not going to got into graphic detail other than ew, and I had to concentrate and hover. While I was trying to avoid falling I imagined this was why a lot of girls went to the bathroom in pairs, and maybe I should have asked Rosita to join me.
In fact I really should have considering when I finally made it out to table both Rosita and her guy were gone, leaving just Jaime there with another Cosmo for me. I asked him if he had seen my friend, and he said no and then began chatting me up again. I was a little worried until I decided to check my phone and saw a text from Rosita saying she had gone home with him and not to wait up.
This sobered me up a bit. Not because I was judging Rosita, she's a grown woman and she can do whatever she wants with her body. Just the realization that the guy had made his move at exactly the right time and that Jaime was apparently a pretty damn good wingman. I suddenly found myself wondering what his expectations of ME were, and the fastest way for me to set him straight.
He pushed the cosmo over to me and I shook it off "Actually I need to be going" I say to him, standing up wobbily.
"So soon?" he asks
"Yeah, my daughter has somewhere to be tomorrow" I say with emphasis on the word daughter. I find that mentioning Ashley is a useful tool for getting a lot of men to lose interest. Jaime wasn't one of those men, and he seemed to understand, but he asked for my number. Not having the good sense to give him a fake one I scribbled my real number down on a napkin and headed out the door.
I was luckily enough that despite being way to drunk to drive, I was lucid enough to know that I shouldn't. I leaned against the side of the building, in the well lit area near the bouncer, and used my phone to call an Uber, because Detroit taxis are some of the worst in the country. I had brought along 60 dollars for drinks, and wound up not using any of it because drinks were bought for me all night, which was good because the Uber ride was about 38 dollars after a generous tip. I managed to make it into the apartment but not into the bed, just collapsing on the couch.
****************************
I woke up the next morning to a voice standing over me saying "Where's the car?"
I looked up at Ashley, who had a look of worry and annoyance on her face
"It's in Detroit" I say groggily, yawning
"So you didn't crash it?" a tone of relief was in her voice
"I didn't drive it" I corrected her
"Responsible. I'm impressed" she said making me think that the real Karina might not have thought twice about driving home with 5 or 6 drinks in her. "Pull your dress down, your ass is showing"
I looked back and saw that she was right, my cheeks were out there for everyone to see. I straitened the dress and sat up, my once fashionable hair now in my face. Brushing it back I saw Ashley putting a mug on the coffee table.
"Whats this?" I ask
"Hot water, honey, and lemon. For that hangover you probably have" she said walking out of the room without ever looking back. I couldn't tell if she was disappointed or not.
-Lane
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