(Part 3-Note adult themes ahead)

9

The doors to the elevator opened on our floor and we stepped out together.

“I’ll pick you up in an hour.” He told me as he kissed my cheek.

“But where are we going?” I asked.

“You chose last night remember?  I made reservations.”

“Olive Garden?” I asked incredulously, “You didn’t come all the way to New York for that did you?”

“I suppose I could cancel.” He said seriously, “But you said…”

“No, No you’re right, I did.” I thought of the nice cocktail dress I had brought along.  “This is New York so maybe I won’t stand out too much.  I’ll see you in about an hour.”

He walked me to my room and we kissed.  I went in and he went next door.  The dress hung in the closet, a radiant deep blue.  It was cut low and the new necklace would look very nice with it.  There was also a short slit up the left side.

I stepped out of the clothes I had worn all day.  Time for a quick shower then new makeup.  It would be close but I could do it in an hour.

I let the warm water flow over me.  I looked down at my breasts.  They were perfect.  I didn’t get implants because I liked the perky “B” cups that I had developed.  The water flowed over them and down my belly.  Just a little swell there.  I had to work on that but I was happy with that too.  Now lower.  Well trimmed, what little hair was left, and the doctor had made the perfect vulva.  I looked like a woman in every manner.  The feel of the skin.  I was a woman. 

I watched the water flow off me and down the drain.  My mind went back to high school.  After gym class and the boys all in the showers, different shapes, different sizes.  And me, shy and embarrassed being in there with them.   Them joking with each other.  They knew they were men, or would be very soon.  I wasn’t at all sure.  I felt strange and different.  I wasn’t supposed to be there.  I was a stranger in this world.  I didn’t understand what they said. 

“Hey, little girl.” I heard from behind me, “Isn’t she cute, guys?  Look at that pussy.”

Another voice chimed in.  “The prettiest here.”

Then another “My girlfriend should look like that.”

My hands went down to cover my crotch.  I wanted to run but at that moment I also wanted everything they were saying to be true.

“Aw c’mon, baby, let us see.” And a hand pulled my hands away.  And there it was.  It wasn’t me, it was something that wasn’t part of me.  I pushed through them and got dressed, not even bothering to dry off.  I just wanted to be out of there.

The class bell rang.  I could still hear it.  Then I realized it wasn’t the class bell it was the phone in the other room.  I grabbed a towel and wrapped myself as I went to answer it.

“Hello,” I said almost out of breath.

A voice on the other end said “Miss March?”

“Yes.” I answered.

“This is Robert at the concierge desk.  Mister Hughes asked me to call and tell you if I  got tickets to a Broadway show tonight.  I did.  Middle Orchestra.  American in Paris, I hope that works for you.  Eight o’clock.”

Broadway show?  I was thrilled.

“Yes Yes, that’s fine thank you.” I whispered.

“Good, and I have confirmed your reservations for Aureole at six.”

“um…yes, yes, that’s great thank you Robert.”

“We’ll have a car in 30 minutes.”

“Thank you Robert, thank you.  I’ll be down…I mean we’ll be down”

Thirty minutes, it would be close.  I ran back to the bed room and threw the clothes on the bed.  Panties, bra, garter belt… Well that was silly, pantyhose would have been faster, but not as sexy.  I slipped on the undergarments and had to tell myself to slow down while putting on the stockings.  It took me a couple tries to get the clips to stay.

The dress, I slipped into it and twisted and turned to get the zipper up.  Another reason I should have just asked Trey to share a room.  Earrings, bracelet, rings…necklace.

I took it out of the box and admired the reflective stone.  It would pick up the blue of the dress. 

Hair, luckily I didn’t get it wet so it was easy to fix.

There was a knock on the door.  I slipped on the high heel pumps and ran to answer.  When I opened the door, Trey stood there with a bouquet of roses.

“Oh my, Princess you look terrific.  But I never doubted it.  Love the necklace.” He handed me the flowers and kissed me on the cheek. “A little damp are we?”

In a perfect world I would have been but…

“Sorry I didn’t have time to get totally dry.” I gasped.

“You will in the cab.” He said.  He looked at me again, “It’s like a dream.”

“It could have been your nightmare.” I scolded, “What was with the phone call from the concierge? “

“You don’t approve?” he asked.  “I thought you’d like Broadway. “

“I did…I mean I do, but I could have used more time.”

“For???”

“To get ready.” I said quickly,  “C’mon we have to go, the car will be waiting.”

“All the time in the world would not have made you any more beautiful.” He said offering his arm.

“The flowers…” I realized.  He took them and threw them on the couch.

“I’ll have someone take care of them.” He told me, “They pale to you anyway.  Ready?”

I took his arm.

“More than ready.” And we walked to the elevator.

10

We sat in the back of the town car.  It was only ten blocks away but with traffic I thought maybe 10-15 minutes and I wasn’t going to waste it.  I slid over to Trey as soon as the door closed and grabbed his head, bringing his lips to mine.  Damn the lipstick, I would fix it when we got there.

I held him in place as my tongue probed his lips.  When I opened my eyes, he had a shocked look I couldn’t believe.

“Damn,” he said, “forget dinner, let’s go back to the room.”

“Nope.” I smiled, “You are going to wine me, dine me and take me to a show….then back to MY room.”

“But what about Monday?” he asked.

“If things work out, you’ll be moving in with me.” I joked.

“What do you mean ‘if’?’

“OK when,” I told him, “Trey, forget the pussyfooting around.  I want you and I sincerely hope you want me…”

“I do.”

“Well why waste time?”

“Um…I dunno.  Wanna get married tonight?”

“No, and maybe never, I don’t know.” I told him. “All I want right now is to be with you for the rest of my life.

“But Monday…”

“Dammit Trey!” I said through my teeth, “Quit kidding around.  Yes or no?”

“Yes.” And he leaned into me.  We kissed again but more gently now and passionately.  I could feel my heart skipping beats.

The car stopped and the door opened.  I saw the driver smile when he saw me.  I was sure it was because my makeup had been messed up but then I realized, my dress was at my hips showing the stockings, garters and a glimpse of the satin panties.

“Mister Hughes “he said, “This is your destination.”

11

The dinner was, well I don’t really remember but it must have been good.  I remember the Maitre-D leading us to the table.  I remember there was wine.  I sort of remember snails.  But then, all I remember is looking at Trey in his suit and tie, smiling at me across the table.

When you are in New York like we were, doggie bags aren’t practical so I suppose $150 worth of food was thrown away that night.

We walked to the theater and made it just as they closed the doors.  The seats were perfect, not too close, not too far.  Before long I was lost in the story of Jerry Mulligan falling for the charms of Lise Bouvier in post war Paris. I imagined myself in that role, Trey dancing with me on the banks of the Seine River at midnight.  Losing him and then getting him back at a masked ball. 

It was a fairytale inside a fairytale.  He held my hand through the whole show, every once in a while, especially at the romantic parts, he would gently squeeze it.  When it was over we sat quietly for a few moments while the crowd cleared.

“Après theatre drink?”  he asked me.

“In my room, with you.” I answered.

“As my lady wishes.”

We walked out and the hotel had arranged our car to be waiting.  We stood while the driver made his way to the curb.  He opened the door and we slid in.

I didn’t attack Trey this time but instead put my head on his shoulder as we rode back to the hotel.  We stood very prim and proper in the elevator to our floor and he gave me his arm to the door of the suite.  I opened it and we entered.

He pulled me to him and crushed his lips to mine.  His hand sliding down my back, then my butt and then the hem of the dresss, pulling it to my hips.  My hands traced his back, pulling us closer together.  I could feel his hardness through the slacks he had on.  He worked his way to the waist of the panties and started working them down.

Suddenly I realized, I still had not told him.  Should I?  I mean, he couldn’t tell by looking.

“Trey,” I whispered in his ear, “I have to tell you something.”

“If it’s goodbye, wait until tomorrow ok?” he said.

“No, it isn’t goodbye.  I meant everything I said earlier, I never want to say goodbye to you.”

“Then it can wait until morning…over toast.”

“But I am afraid it can’t wait.” I said pushing him back a bit. “I’m not what you think.”

“What do I think?” he asked, sudden concern on his face.

“I am not a woman.”

“You most definitely are a woman, every bit of you.”

“No, I wasn’t born a woman.”

“Yes you were, every bit of you.”

“I was a man.”

“No you weren’t”

“Yes I was,” tears started filling my eyes, “I had surgery for…”

“You had surgery to make you right.” He said.  He wiped a tear as it trickled down my face.  “Listen, I’ve known from the start.  I didn’t care then, I don’t care now.  You are a woman,.  You have always been a woman.  You will always be a woman.  I pray you will always be my woman. My Princess.  The past isn’t important.  I care about now.  What you may think you ‘were’ isn’t who you are.

“Princess, I love you.  Not what you look like on the outside,” he stopped and smiled at me, “Although that is pretty damn nice too.  Forget the past.  Before yesterday, there was no world.  It started at 3:30 yesterday afternoon in a bar in lower downtown.  You appeared from stardust on that seat.  You were placed there for me to find.”

He tilted my chin up and kissed my lips.

“WE are now. OK?” he asked me.” A beautiful Princess who fit the slipper perfectly riding into the sunset with the Prince and his 1972 Pinto with a green door.”

I laughed.  “You can quit saying that.  You don’t have a Pinto.”

“Ah, but I do,” he replied.  “Everything I have told you is true.”

“Trey?” I said.

“Yes?” he replied.

“Monday, when we get back from New York…”

“Yes?”

“You owe me a kiss.”

(part 2 of Novelette) Note PG-13

We finished dinner and at his insistence, walked to a nearby coffee shop for dessert.  He spent the whole evening looking at me, smiling, like a kid looking at Macy’s window in December.  Not once did he try to touch or kiss me the whole evening.  If he had, I would have let him do whatever he wanted.

He got us a cab and dropped me off at home.  As I sat there I knew I didn’t want the clock to strike 12.  I turned to kiss him and he stopped me..

”Monday, remember?” he said.

“Screw Monday,” I answered and leaned harder into him.  He took my lips readily and held me tight. 

When we stopped and I sat back he looked at me and said, “I don’t want this to end but we have to go slow.  I’m already in love with you.  I was when I saw you the first time, but you aren’t sure yet.” He whispered into my ear, “Trust me, it will be alright.”

“But I want you to…” he put his fingertips to my lips to stop me.

“I will have a cab here at 8 in the morning.  Pack light but pack to stun the Big Apple.” He kissed me lightly again, “and we will have a great time.  I will get a suite so we can be near but you can have your own space.  Eight OK?”

“But…”

“Eight o’clock.  Please?  If you aren’t at the airport by nine, I’ll know you changed your mind.”

The driver had come around to the door and was holding it open.  I stepped out then turned to Trey.

“Eight o’clock, sharp.” I said,.

4

It’s impossible to pack light for a weekend in New York City.  I finally settled on two dresses, one casual and one knee length cocktail, along with a few tops, a skirt and slacks.  One bag. 

Lingerie took longer.  He said separate rooms but I hoped for more.  I wondered “does he like thongs?”  Then I wondered “What does he like?”   I had no idea.  Garters, that would be cute, wouldn’t it?  Under the cocktail dress.  Tease him a bit while sitting at the table, just showing the tabs and stocking tops.  And lace panties and bra. 

That was being a good boy scout…being prepared.   Oh God, Boy Scouts, what a hideous time.  That’s when I first felt really out of place.  I didn’t understand the things that seemed to make the other boys happy.  What was the pleasure they got from wrestling with each other, pulling each other under the water, stripping the swim suits off of …me.   Me staying in the water, naked, not wanting for any of them to see.  I hadn’t even started to develop but the embarrassment had caused me to react.  I had hoped they would go away and I could get out without them noticing.  Or give me back my trunks.  But they stood there on shore, laughing.

I spent the rest of the trip, trying to avoid being near them.  They, on the other hand, spent the rest of the trip stripping me of my pants.  I never wanted to go back again, and to this day I hate camping in any form.

Now New York City, with its nightlife and restaurants and eclectic people.  I could fit in there.  No one cared about who or what I used to be.  No one really noticed no matter what.  I came and went wherever I wanted and no one cared.

But this time it would be different.  I would be on the arm of a man.  A handsome and well to do man.  At least he said he was.  What if, at eight o’clock, there wasn’t a cab downstairs waiting?  What if somehow he was stripping me and leaving me in the lake, naked and…well excited? 

Makeup, eye shadow, liner, blush…

My whole life seemed to be like that where people took whatever they wanted from me and then left me without any coverage.  But it made me wary and it made me aggressive.  It made me know when and where I could press to get what I wanted.  I could almost smell when they were the most vulnerable.  And that made me a great sales…person.  Now when I made the sales calls, they saw a woman and that gave me an even greater edge.

Yet here I was, falling for a line: hook line and sinker as they say.   I believed everything he told me.  He, on the other hand, had not let me throw one sales pitch his way.  He hadn’t found out about the real me.  I tried to tell him I reasoned.  I had tried to fill him in on the details, but something always deflected it.

Lipsticks, hair brush and ties…

If it did come to going to bed with him, I could fake it as long as I had notice.  I had the parts, but I needed help.  I needed lubrication.

Lube!  I threw it in the bag.

Even looking close now you could not tell, you could not see the scars.  I could do that and he would never know.  Under the covers, it didn’t matter.  I could keep this a secret.

I looked at my body in the mirror.  Not bad for a woman my age that’s for sure.  OK a little tummy but that was all.  I looked like a swimmer.  I hated swimming too since the swimsuit incident but I looked like a swimmer.

Maybe I need a swim suit, after all the hotel would have a pool and maybe a Jacuzzi…

It is only two days and two nights.

I wonder if we could see a show.  I had always wanted to see a Broadway show.  Probably not, such short notice and all.

Olive Garden…why did I say that?  I should have said the Ritz or Tavern on the Green…or something.    You knew someday you would regret being such a smart ass.

OK, all set, try and sleep.  Set the alarm for 5:30.   Great 4 hours of sleep, I should be beautiful. 

Eight O’clock is going to come fast.

5

Seven forty five and I was watching the street waiting for the cab.  I prayed he wasn’t lying last night.  That clock seemed like it had stopped.  I sat on my suitcase and waited.

Just before eight a cab pulled into the loading area.  The driver got out and walked up to the glass door looking at the intercom list.  I stood, took a deep breath, checked my skirt and walked to the door.  I opened it.

“Miss March?” he asked.

My throat felt dry but I squeaked out “Yes”.

“Mister Hughes sent me.  Can I get your bags?”

“Bag…” I corrected him.

“OK, I will get it.  Mister Hughes asked me to give you this.” he handed me a box..  I opened it .  It was a lovely necklace.  Silver with a single stone.

“Ma’am,” the driver said , “Whenever you’re ready.”  I put the necklace on and got in the back of the cab.  The driver went straight to the airport. He dropped me off at one of the charter buildings.  He put the bag on the sidewalk and told me to have a lovely day.   I suddenly thought, he needs a tip.  I asked him to wait while I rummaged through my purse.  I had 40 dollars.  I tried to give him a twenty.

“No thank you ma’am.  It’s already covered.” He smiled, “And you have a great trip.”  He got in the cab and drove away.  Another man stepped out of the building.

“Miss March?”

“Yes.” I said, as I whirled around, still stunned over all this.

“Please come with me.” He took the suitcase and led me into the building.  Now you would think rich people would have this marvelous waiting area but it was just a nicely appointed room.   It didn’t matter because we went straight through to the hanger area.  There, sitting with its engines running was a large jet.  I looked at the man with my bag and he shook his head “no” and had me follow him a little further.

Now, after seeing the giant jet, this one looked small.  It was a HondaJet I was told.  He stood aside and waved me up the stairs.  Inside were 4 seats, large comfortable seats.  The flight deck was behind a door. 

“Ma’am is there anything I can get you before takeoff?” the man asked me.

“No, not right now.”  I said , “Will Mister Hughes be here soon?”

“He’s already here ma’am.” And the man went to the door of the flight deck and knocked.  “Miss March aboard, sir.  Ready when you are.”  The door opened and Trey’s huge smile greeted me.  He was dressed in a polo shirt and slacks.  Suddenly I felt over dressed. 

“Princess!” he gleamed, “Welcome aboard.  Nice outfit.” He stood back and smiled, “Especially the necklace.”

“How did you get that this early?” I asked him.

“Connections, honey, connections.” He walked over to me and embraced me, kissing my lips softly yet firmly “Actually, it was something I have had around and you were perfect for it.” He kissed me lightly again.  “So you want to drive?”  He waved toward the cockpit.

“I think I will leave that to the pilot.” I said looking at him skeptically.

“Very well,” He replied, “Captain Hughes at your service.” He bowed before me.

“You?  Do you know how to drive this thing?”

“Nope, but what the heck, it can’t be too hard can it? Similar to a pinto I think” he looked around, “after all, it goes up…it comes down. The middle part is computerized.”

 “Swell,” I smiled, “The takeoff shouldn’t hurt anyway.”

“Please,” he motioned me to the door, “Have a seat on the right.  I want to look at those pretty legs for the next hour and a half.  Sorry no flight attendant, you will have to fill that role.”

We strapped in and soon were cruising east.  Trey set the autopilot and turned to me. 

“You are my captive for the next hour.” He stated, “You can’t get away…unless you skydive.  Do you skydive?”

“Are you going to throw me out?” I asked.

“Never in my lifetime, ” He answered seriously. “Right now I want to be near you forever.”

“That’s a long time.” I teased, “You could get tired of me.”

“I will get comfortable with you.  I shan’t get tired of you.”

“’Shan’t?’.  You are a quandary.  Last night ‘ain’t’ and today ‘shan’t’. “ I told him, “I know you’re rich, you own a jet…”

“It belongs to the corporation, they just let me borrow it sometimes,, weekends mostly...” he corrected.

“OK,” I continued, “and you talk strange.”

“Strangely.”

“Are trying to start a fight?” I asked.

“In no manner.” He replied, “I am trying my best to seduce you.”

“Really?” I giggled, “I had no idea.  So the corporation lets you borrow the jet.  Just for a quick spin?  Because you are such a nice guy?”

“Because my grandfather and father own the company, otherwise we would be making this trip in the two tone Pinto.”

“I have to see that car.”

“When we get back” he smiled.  “OK buckle up we will be landing soon.  Need to freshen up?  Straighten your stockings?”

“No,” I told him, “I’m good.  Besides I left my stockings at home,…with my panties.”

He looked at me in disbelief.

I smiled at him, “You should have checked before, now we’re landing.”

6

The cab ride to the hotel was interesting.  I could tell he wanted to check to see if I had been telling the truth about the panties.  He kept glancing down as I crossed, uncrossed and re-crossed my legs.  I am sure visions of Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct ran through his mind but I was careful to not let him see.

We arrived at the Park Lane Hotel.  Trey jumped out of the cab and ran around to open the door for me.  I was very careful to not expose anything as I swung my legs out and stood up.

“You’re going to kill me aren’t you?” he asked.

“If curiosity killed the cat, then…yes.”

We walked toward the revolving doors and he directed me toward the desk..  Even as crowded as the lobby was, the click of my high heels on the polished floor seemed to echo in my ears.  I wondered, as shiny as the floor was if Trey could have looked at the reflection to see the day glow pink thong I was wearing.

“Good morning, sir.” The man behind the desk greeted us. “And Madame. Are you on our reservations list?”

“Yes, we are.” Trey answered him, “Hughes, two, view of the park.”

“Let me check.” The man told him, “Single room suite overlooking the park.”

I looked at Trey who just smiled at me.

“So separate bedrooms huh?” I asked him.

He grinned at me and the man at the desk continued, “adjoining rooms.”

“I really don’t know what to think of you Mister Hughes.” I said softly, “I would have taken the single bedroom and shared the bed with you, you know.”

“I promised,” he replied. “total honesty.  Unlike people who wear pink panties.”

“TREY!” I said loudly, “How…I mean when…”

“When you sat in the right seat, you flashed me.  I was sure you meant to do it.”

We rode the elevator up to the floor and the bellman took us to our rooms.  He put me in the suite and Trey took the adjoining single room.  There was a door between and Trey showed me that I could lock it so no one could come in.

“What if I get scared?”

“Just knock….I’m sure whomever I’m with will help you out.” He smiled at me.

“You’re mean, Mister Hughes.” I feigned anger.  “What does she look like?”

He left me to set up the room and unpack.  One suitcase didn’t take long.  I walked over to the window to see Central park spread out before me.  The sunshine glistened off the trees and the lake.  My reverie was broken by a knock on the door.

“Princess,” Treys voice came through, “are you decent?”

I called back, “I am but give me a minute, I’ll fix that.”  I walked over and opened the door.  He came in and embraced me, kissing me hard on the lips.

“I wanted to do that all day.” He said.

“Honey if you do that all day we will pass out from lack of oxygen.”

“How about lunch?”

“Probably wouldn’t be able to eat either…” I teased him.  “Oh you mean now.  Sure, should I change?”

“Maybe blue panties instead of pink.” He said.

“Maybe I took them off.”

“Ah, don’t do that to me.” He held his chest.  “No, you look wonderful.  You may want lower heels though so we can take a walk.”

I went into the bed room and slipped on some wedges.  He escorted me out of the room and gave me his arm.

“I will have the best arm candy in town today.” He stated as we entered the elevator.

7

The little café was a a block away or so. Angela’s.  Trey found us a small table and we sat down.  His hand reached under and started to slide up my leg to my hem.

“Trey!,” I hissed, “Not here.”

“You started it.”

“I did?”

“I have to check your underwear, it’s dress code.”

“I have some on….sheesh.” I told him.

“OK, I’ll take your word for it.” he brought his hand up to the table and placed it over mine.  “Maybe later?”

“Maybe Monday…remember?”

“I made that promise under duress.”

“Hey, you made it…you keep it.”

“Now who’s mean?”

“Me.” I said coyly.

He squeezed my hand.

“Never.” He said.

“I can let you out of that promise if you want.”

“Princess,“he looked me in the eye, “Whenever you’re ready, I won’t push.  Right now, I am having the most marvelous time since my bachelor party.”

I startled.

“You’re married?”

“I was, not anymore.” He smiled.  “She outgrew me.”

“I can see why, you little brat.”

He puffed out his lower lip.

“Amnot.” He said like a petulant three year old.

“Aretoo.” I told him. I stuck out my tongue  I felt that I had to tell him before this went any further. “Trey, there’s something I need to tell you.  I’m…”

“hungry?” he offered before I could finish. “Me too, what looks good.  I was thinking when in New York eat as the Romans do…a Rueben.”

I looked up at him and started to finish my original thought..  He took my hand again and smiled.  I relented.

“Yeah, a Rueben.” I said. “With a pickle.”  He started to say something but I stopped him, “not that pickle.”

8

After we finished we started wandering the neighborhood.  It was Central Park so what was the worst that could happen, somebody could steal our portfolio?    We crossed over and walked toward Jackie Onassis reservoir.

“I want to feed the ducks,” I told him, suddenly feeling like a 16 year old on her first date.

“I dunno,” He pondered, “They’re pretty mean,  They might take your arm off.”

“So?  I have two.”

“You need two to hug me, remember?”

“Now, who’s mean?   I wanna feed the ducks.”

We found someone selling duck food and walked over to the water.  There was a bench with an older couple but still enough room for us.

“Hello,” I said to them, “do you mind if we share?”

The old man smiled and patted the bench next to him.  We sat down and I started throwing food out to entice the ducks.

“Howard and I did that on our first date too.” the woman said.

The man turned to us and shook his head.

“I’m sorry, “ he started “but she has a little trouble remembering.  Things like my name is Marvin.” He chuckled

“Then who is Howard?” she asked him.

“One of your many lovers I’m sure.” The old man teased her.  “I have no idea who he is, babe.”

“Hmmm…” she mused, “I coulda swore you were Marvin.”

“I am, dear.” He said quietly, “Your husband of 52 years, Martin.”

I looked at him and he winked.

“That’s what I thought, Martin.” She said.

The old man turned back to me and said. “I’m Marvin Berger and this is my wife Sofia.”

I smiled and said, “I’m Susan and this is Trip.”

Trey gave me a look and held out his hand to the man, “Trey, Thomas Hughes.”

“Are you sure?” I asked him. “Trip sounds right.”

“I better be because that’s whose credit card we’re using”

Sofia looked at me. “Have you finished your homework yet?”

I stopped a second and Marvin smiled at me.  “No dear she’s…”

“Almost finished,” I said, “Maybe another couple minutes.”

Marvin nodded to me.  I could see how much he was in love with this woman, it showed in everything he did.  I wondered what it was like for them almost 40 years before.  She was beautiful still, and her eyes shined like diamonds even now, but she was somewhere else.   He still doted on her and I imagined how he saw her when she said yes to his proposal.

“Good, because I know you want to go out later.” She told me.

The old man put his arm around her and said. “C’mon Sofie, we better go and leave these two alone.”

“Why, do they want to make out or something?” she said loudly.

“Maybe, dear, but we should go.”

He helped her to her feet and turned to us.

“You have been very kind, thank you.”

Trey and I stood and shook his hand.  Sofia walked over to us and hugged me.

“It was so nice to meet you Susan.” She said, “I hope you and Thomas have 38 wonderful years together like me and Howard.”  Then she started away with the man behind her calling out to her.

“Marvin, honey…I’m Marvin”

The neat thing about the internet is you can publish something that no publisher would touch,  In the last year I have gotten back to writing; something I used to do a lot before the "net" came along.  Thus, I have (actually still am) written a novelette.  And since I am altruistic (and I really really DO want someone to read it) I'll publish it here.

You can comment but remember, I am fragile:

If you tell yourself something long enough, it becomes true.   When you tell someone you love the same thing, just once, they will believe it in their heart, without question or reservation.  It’s a matter of perspective.

It may not even be malicious.  In fact, it may be altruistic in many aspects.  After all, what can a small piece of information, minute really, do to a loving relationship?

1.

It was just a bar in a no name, urban center.  Every city has those.  A narrow bar where people who work in the area go after 5 to unwind, surrounded by multi-floor concrete cookie cutter office buildings.  Between the two martini lunch crowd and the after work crowd, there are just a few people.  They are hiding in booths, where the high padded backs shield them from anyone who may wander in.  They may be hiding from a boss,  they may be meeting that illicit affair…or they may be hiding from themselves.

That would be me.  Over here, at the bar, the one with the Manhattan slowly twirling the cherry in the bottom.  Staring down at the amber liquid, watching the bubbles come and go around the ice cube.

Every few minutes the bartender would come and ask if things were alright, even though the glass was still half full.  I like attentive bartenders.  Especially bartenders with dark hair and sexy smiles.  I liked this bartender.  Well everything except his hands…his left hand specifically and the silver band on his finger.  Mostly he stayed over at the end of the bar, polishing glasses that looked clean from where I sat anyway.

I wasn’t alone, a man in a grey business suit sat in one of the booths, writing on a pad and checking his smart phone.  Gin…Gin and tonic.  I had nothing better to do than listen to his order. 

A giggling couple, sat two booths away from him, nuzzling on occasion and speaking softly to each other.  They were white wine all the way.

“Doing alright?”

I was staring at the glass and it took a second to register that the bartender was checking again.  I looked up and smiled.

“Another, in a few minutes, if you would.” I said

“You got it” he tapped the bar in front of me and walked away.  I watched him walk down the bar…if it wasn’t for that damn left hand I would…

Would what? I asked myself.  I would stare at his ass, just like I was doing now and order a drink.  I had to face it, I wasn’t one to come on to anybody.  And it must show, considering I was alone,

at a bar,

downtown,

drinking a Manhattan, at….

I looked up at the clock…3:30 in the afternoon.

A cell phone rang.  One of those silly videogame melodies that everyone has.  Mister Business suit answered, loudly, “Hey, Bud, how ya doin’?  Can we meet about the account in say 30 minutes…”  I quickly lost interest and besides my new drink was there now staring me in the face, daring me to wrap my red lips around the rim. 

I shook my head.  Am I that desperate?  I downed what was left in the first glass.

“Easy there, sugar.” The bartender chided me.  “That will go straight to your head.”  He pushed the new glass closer to me and took the empty away.  “Let me know if you want more.”

More, what?  I had no idea what I wanted, but “more” sounded good.  More money, more time, more…love.  Even a little love would be good.  Sometimes a little can be more if you have nothing to start with.  Yeah I wanted “more”.

I always wanted more.  And after 45 years I got what I wanted, but at a price.  I lost the “American dream” to get the dream I wanted.  And now here I was, ten years “out”, two years post surgery, drinking alone in a bar.

Oh, that’s right I didn’t tell you did I?  I am post-op transsexual.  Fully a woman in every way.  Well, ways that count.  All the parts in all the right places.   And alone.  So it didn’t fix everything.  I still had my job, but with less respect now.  I had my home and my car.  I want for nothing, material.  I have money.  But companionship and love, they aren’t on my list of haves.   Friday afternoon, 3:37 now and alone.

I stared at the glass.

“Mind if I sit here?” a voice wafted into my head.  It could not be talking to me.  Maybe they are asking the bartender.

“Excuse me,” a soft touch on my shoulder made me look up, “is it OK if I sit here?”

There were 12 seats at the bar; I was the only one sitting there.

“um….” I stalled.  I couldn’t see his face well as the light from outside was behind him and made him a silhouette.  Aw, what the hell.  Maybe he’s lonely too and needs someone to talk to.  “Sure, help yourself.”

He sat down and turned the chair toward me and he offered his right hand.

“I’m Thomas Hughes.” He said.

I gave him my hand and replied “I’m…”

“sitting alone.” He offered.  “Beautiful women should never be alone.  No one should drink alone.” I could see him better now that he was sitting next to me.  He could have been anyone of the hundreds of businessmen in this neighborhood.  Suit, and tie, all business.  But his smile set him apart

I looked down and giggled. 

“You’re right Thomas…” I started..

“Tom…or Trey.  Thomas was my grandfather.  May he rest in peace, the old codger.   Thank God I didn’t get called Junior like my dad” The bartender had made his way over and waited for Tom…Trey…whatever, to order. “Something tall cold and full of whiskey”

The bartender smiled back…”Like your ex-wife?” 

They both laughed

“How ya been  Mike?” Tom asked.

“Good, Trey.  You?”

“Great, looking forward to the weekend.” Tom turned to me, “and keep the lady happy will ya.  My tab.”

“Sure thing, Bro.”  and Mike walked off to get the drink.

“So you were about to tell me your name.  It has to start with Princess I’m sure.” He turned to face me.

“I wish.” I giggled. “No, Cinderella before the ball would be closer.  I’m Susan March,   Susan.”

“Nice to meet you, Susan March Susan.” he laughed a little.  “What’s a nice girl like you doin in a joint like this?”

“I was drinking and who says I’m a nice girl?”

“It’s obvious,” he stated, “You have that nice girl look.”

“That’s probably why I am alone then.” I told him, “Nice girls don’t get asked out.”

“OK, let’s change that rule, Miss March,….Miss March, you could be a centerfold…  how about dinner?”

“We just met.” I chided, “I know nothing about you.”

“What’s to know?” he asked, “I’m handsome, suave, debonair, filthy rich and I have a car.  A 1972 Pinto with a new door, but a car at any rate.”

“Oh…classy.  I was just thinking I would like to ride in a Pinto with a red door.”

“Ah, damn.” He looked dejected, “mine has a green door.”

I couldn’t help but laugh.  I almost sprayed whiskey on him.

“That can work, but” I said, “Let’s talk…Tom…I mean Trey.”

He held up his glass and we clinked them together.

“OK, let’s talk.” He said, “I told you about me.  How about you?”

“I don’t have a Pinto.  I have a Prius…it’s a hybrid though.”

“Well, I dunno, tree hugger, probably left wing and I’m a born again Republican.” He turned back to face the bar. “It would never work out. “

I sat there stunned.  He had seemed so nice and then he turned cold on me?

He sipped his drink and looked in that bar mirror.

“Oh what the hell,. I’ll convert.” He smiled.  “Oh, did I tell you I’m Prince Charming, Cinderella?”

He had been teasing and I had fallen for it totally.

“I lied; I am very middle of the road.  I do have a Pinto though.” He told me, “and I am very smitten with you right now.  How is it, really, that you are sitting here alone on Friday afternoon when you should be getting ready for a date?”

“There are things…” I said.

“Bah, nothing worth being alone I am sure.  There’s something about you that intrigues me.”

I almost said “Yeah, I was a dude, dude.” But I didn’t.  I said “Maybe it’s my cologne.”

“Naw…something else.  You sure you’re not a Princess?”

“Positive or my parents lied about the inheritance.”

“I know! Those eyes.  Those deep blue eyes.  They make me want to just melt into you..”

I blushed.  He was smooth I admit and every second made me want to be with him even more.

“Susan…” he started, “No that’s like talking to my sister.” He pondered for a minute “and Susie sounds like a teenager.  You’re not my sister are you?”

“Not that I know of but if your father was a mail carrier….” I teased him.

“Only for a few weeks, then he started an investment company.  Funny how you can parlay civil service wages into a vast fortune.”

Now I was intrigued.  Was he being honest?  He lied about the Pinto, I think.

“No, Princess works.” He grinned. “Can I call you Princess?”

“Sure,” I said,  “Trey and Princess…sitting in a tree…”

“K I S S I N G…” he finished, “Can I?”

“Can you what?”

“Kiss you?”

“Here?  Now?  We just met.” I stammered.

“OK, maybe later, like Monday morning when we get back from New York?”

“I don’t remember anything about New York.” I told him.

“It was implied, remember dinner?  You said yes, I didn’t say where.”

“I was thinking Olive Garden.”

“There is a nice one in Times Square. “

“Really?  How would you know that?”

“It’s a few blocks from the Manhattan office.”

“Wait, you aren’t kidding are you?”

“Totally honest.” He looked at me seriously.

“New York?” I mused, “but we will never get a flight there in time for dinner.”

“OK, then, tonight we dine down the street.  Nice little bistro.  You like French food?”

“I like French Fries.”

“Such an innocent.” He took my hand and kissed it, “Tomorrow, I will make a reservations for this…Olive Garden you desire.  We can take my plane.”

“Plane?”

“Of course, Princesses don’t fly coach, honey.  Now drink up and let’s go eat.  I’m starved.”

2

“Bon Jour, Monsieur Hughes.” The man at the bistro greeted us. “I will have a table in a few minutes, if you would wait at the bar?”

“Seems you and I are destined to be together at a bar.” Trey teased, “Very good Antoine.  And please, may we have some pommes frites?”

Antoine looked at Trey like he had two heads. 

“You kiddin me Hughes…you want French fries?” he asked, the pretentious French accent gone.

“I am, Antoine.  The lady and I will have a bottle of Château Pichon-Longueville Comtesse de Lalande and a plate of Brie de Melun.”

Very well monsieur.” He bowed, “If you will but follow me.”  He looked at me and said “Madame looks lovely”

As we walked to the bar area , Trey answered him “She is, ain’t she?  I can’t believe someone didn’t snatch her up before.”

We sat at a small table and Antoine brought over the bottle of wine, pouring just a sip into Trey’s glass.

“That’s it?” he stormed, “I ordered the whole bottle!” Then he gave me a wink.  It was an old joke, I know, but it made me smile.  He tasted the wine and approved so Antoine filled two glasses.  Trey held his up to me.

“To the Princess, may she never sit alone at a bar on Friday again.”

We touched glasses.

“You making a permanent offer?” I asked coyly.

“Are you accepting?” he countered.  “So, who are you Princess?”

“Long story and some may not be what you want to hear.” I said staring at the crimson fluid in the glass.  It reflected the lights and made a beautiful pattern.

“Then, who are you…now?” he asked.

“At this moment, I am a fairytale Princess hoping the clock doesn’t strike 12.”

“I can stop time for you.” He smiled.

“Well then, I’m just a woman…” I stopped wondering if I should divulge now or wait…I waited, “who goes to work everyday.  I am in sales.”

“I’ll take two… wait, maybe I can’t afford two.” He said, “Can you show me what you have?”

I stopped and looked at him trying to decide exactly what that meant.

“I could but it’s the weekend, I don’t work weekends.”

“Fair enough, add that to Monday’s list of things to do.  Right after I kiss you good morning.”

“Trey…” I started, “What if there isn’t a Monday?”

“Has to be.  It’s on my calendar.  And so far the calendar has never been wrong.”  He sipped his wine and leaned into me, “There will be a Monday. I will promise you that.”

“But there are things…”I started again.

“I’m sure there are, and they won’t change anything I promise.”

So that’s when the lie really started.  He saw a Princess, I felt like a Princess. It was all a matter of perspective

I am done being polite.

I couldn't give two flying....well I really don't care how people feel about things that are part of my life.  In the last week I have had beer poured on me ( I hope it really was accidental but a 6 foot wide spill seems unlikely.)  I have been put down for my taste in music, movies and writing.  But today gets the blue ribbon.

I am on OKCupid.  I thought maybe there would be someone who may want to get to know me.  I don't try and fool anyone.  I am very plain about who I am and where I am going.  This has been a put off for one person because they said I sound like I am high maintenance.  They are correct I am.  But I am also someone who many would like to be with, just I don't go for people whose idea of a date in McDonalds and Red Box.  Here is the first part of my profile. (pay attention to words because evidently ONE tripped a switch)

I am just exploring and seeing who is out there. I lean toward females but the right guy may work. I am not limiting myself at this time. Men, however, you have a larger hill to climb because I am a Princess and I expect to be treated like one. I enjoy the perks of being a woman. Women- know that I am transitioning and thus, I will be physically female soon. I am very happy with who I am. I have accepted who I am. No I won't fit most social mores. So anyone who is interested must be interested in the person, not the parts. I am a transsexual Male-to- female.

Do you see the word?  I take care to not say I am transitioning into a female. I say I am becoming a woman...However in the medical world I am described as a "Male to Female Transsexual".  Common terminology.  And after surgery I will have female anatomy...

But today a woman sent me this message:
"You will never be a female, know that, I am female. Call yourself something else, it's offensive to me to have a man say and think he's my gender!!!! Your DNA will always be male!!!!!! It's your psych issues"

I had no contact with this person in any form before.  She messaged me.  But that one word, that one word that is part of a medical diagnosis....evidently got her panties, not only in a bunch but shoved them as deep as they could go.

(Note, the last paragraph of my profile says "You should message me if: you want to know more, you are not rude and you are patient. I am in no rush to get anywhere, I like being free. If you understand or want to understand the diversity that is the TG community, that we are not what you see on the media"  Definition of rude would be...?)

I replied:
"You may be XX but there is another word for what you are. You don't know my genotype. You are rude. I find that offensive. Your opinion is not supported by medical knowledge. It isn't a psych issue. I don't really know why you thought in any manner I care what offends you anyway"
 I assumed the end but....not she was going to give her full wrath.

Her reply:
"Oh shut up freak!!!!!!!! You are not a woman period!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" I didn't respond....so she sent this "I am a medical person with many degrees. Anomalies are rare not this twisted agenda. You men need psych help not surgery!!!!!! You will never ever be a woman!!!!!! You are a fake not part of are clan ,so do whatever but call yourself something else like heshe! I'm offended by you guys.!!!!!! Gourami is being what you we're born with! Embrace that!!!!!!!!!"-  I didn't respond again. "
I'm real. You're fake, have a baby, have periods!!!! Man!!!"

OK time to pick this apart and examine the whole thing.

Exclamation points...more than 4 shows a strong emotional side but not well educated.  Anger issues are likely.

She is a medical person...yet she doesn't say in what manner...doctor, nurse, researcher....Fly by night new age voodoo enchantress....nope can't be any of those because they understand transgender.  She's in New Mexico...so marijuana or peyote grower?  Nope, they don't get pissed about how someone else is.  But she has "many" degrees. She says she works in critical care.  Honestly?   But it does show that Book larnin don't make ya smart. 

She is part of the "clan" (that's how she spelled it...not with a 'K'). So I am guessing radical feminist.  Now I had to see why she said "Gourami"  No idea actually, they're fish I know that much but I thought..."Hmmm maybe they change sex..."  Can't find that anywhere...Gourami is being what you are born with. This is coming from a medical person with many degrees who works in critical care...so she wouldn't correct birth defects?  She wouldn't allow any medicine or surgery to treat anything you are born with?

All that aside.  She is just ignorant (and that scares the hell out of me if I ever need critical care in New Mexico).  Here is where her claim to being medical falls apart as a lie or just plain stupid.

"I'm real. You're fake, have a baby, have periods!!!! Man!!!" So any woman who either cannot or decides to NOT have a child isn't a woman?  Any woman past menopause isn't a woman?  Any woman who has had a hysterectomy isn't a woman?  Her definition of a female and/or a woman is based on the ability to breed or to have menses. 

She's 53 has 4 children...I assume that if she already isn't menopausal she will be soon, then she will be a...?

I don't know why she is fearful of me...I didn't meet any of her criteria.  My profile actually says "M" because I made it three years ago.  If I hadn't mentioned being trans and had the "F" marker, I wonder if she would be scared of me?  She should because her profile photo shows a person with a square jaw, man's hair cut.  She could easily be mistaken as a trans.

I was going to reply to her ignorant idea of having to breed or bleed to be a woman, but then maybe I should lets sleeping BITCHES lie.

A lot of what is considered "bravery" in everyday life is the result of desperation and exhaustion.  What people see as being brave usually isn't that at all.  In fact it could be a last act.

I was sitting at a stop light today, 4 lanes and a turn lane in each direction.  The car next to me did a little beep when the left turn light came on (and BTW are we so stupid that we now have to have flashing yellow arrows to tell people to NOT turn across oncoming traffic?".  At first I looked to see who was so impatient and the guy in te red car next to me was leaning forward over his steering wheel.  I though "Maybe the car died"  But he kept leaning forward and back and he looked concerned.  I looked at the back of the SUV ahead of him, thinking there was something wrong with it but I didn't see anything.  The car on my left, who had the green arrow didn't move, nor did the car across from him. 

Then I saw it, a little prairie dog running as hard as it could across the road.  Everyone on my side saw it and stopped.  the turn lane and the inside straight lane opposite didn't move.  The outside lanes across all started to go.  The first car in the second lane stopped short (the guy behind them didn't hit them thankfully) but teh two outside lanes drove through.  I watched in horror that the little guy ws going to be roadkill.  I hate seeing animals die.  The prairie dog stopped a little then started again, running under the first car.  I was sure the outside car would get him but we al watched as he emerged on the opposite side. (I went through that intersection later, He must not have tried to get back).

Was he (or she I don't really know, prairie dogs don't wear name tags) brave...or stupid?  I think he (let's stay with that) was tired of waiting where there wasn't any food.  So he went.  Is there a difference between brave and stupid?  The end result usually.

Did Rosa Parks decide she was going to be an icon for the civil rights movement?  No, if you read what she said was-her feet were tired.  She saw a stupid rule and consequence seemed less severe so she sat down.  Brave, yes, but she didn't plan on being brave.  Soldiers do things because they are tired of being pinned down or they see no other way out.  Very brave butnot what most plan on doing.

I hear Caitlyn Jenning is brave.  I hear that about me.  I appreciate it and I am sure she does too but we don't transition to show how strong we are.  We do it because we are tired, and desperate to quit hiding or pretending. We weave through traffic, dodging tires and hoping we get to the other side without getting smashed.  Some still call that stupid. That we should be happy the way we were.  Not crossing the street would have been stupid for me.  It wasn't bravery but necessity.

Caitlyn is causing discussions.  I will admit her bravery was going public when she could have done this all on the sly.   But we knew her bravery in 1976, she was a strong woman but we didn't know it then.  To me that makes that gold even bigger now.  So many of us hide and wait and hope it will go away.  Wondering why we don't understand how the rest of the world is.

I will accept your compliment and feeling I am brave...mostly my feet just hurt and I needed to get to the other  side of the street.