Covered Bridges-2

Chapter 2

Oh I hate a comfortable bed and the one here at the Millstone Lodge was really comfortable with the memory foam stuff and comforters and really good cotton sheets and I longed for just a bit enjoying the feel of the sheets on my skin.

Then I force myself up and get dressed into my workout clothes and this being home and me not used to North American Chill any more I take a hoody and leave a note staying gone jogging.

I jog; I really try to keep in shape but its force of habit for me now. I was a fat kid and teen and even as a young adult I had weight issues until I got to Brazil. Home’s not that big and I start by running down Duke Street and checking out the homes of a few old friends

I take the turn and head down Willow and go past Dr. Davies old place and smile, it was one of the few places in town that I’d have loved to have as a home for myself. Even now it’s still the same. A red hewn brick brownstone three story hose with a wrap around deck painted white. Big yard in the front and a circular driveway and a proper English garden in the back. He was English and had come over after the war. Sorry if I offend any one who’s a vet but THE war, here in the Maritimes always means WW2.

Right across the street is Wesley’s house. He was another guy like Chris and worse, rich and a jock both. The thing was he was a spoiled little jerk too and a rat. If someone didn’t take his crap and handed him his butt he ran and told. By the look of the place though his family doesn’t live there anymore. Not with the corvette in the yard with Mubai-1 on the plates.

I go down the street past the curling club and there’s the new arena. I guess that really bad winter a few years back totaled the roof on the old one. It looks nice, I like the blue metal siding on it better that that yellow split pea colored stuff they had and there’s a couple of signs up actually advertising the fact that it’s the arena/rink for once and the logo signs of all the hockey teams and stuff are here. Huh…there’s a figure skating club here now. I wonder which old bastard had to die off to give the girls in town a fair shake.

I shouldn’t harp on that too much we always had a great girl’s soccer and basketball team here. Then there the fair grounds and that brings another smile to my face. County fair more or less we used to call it The Exhibition or just The Ex and I used to work it as a teenager. Carneys really didn’t give a shit about how different you were. I made good cash here at the ends of a few summers. Lost my guy virginity here too.

Both times.

First guy I ever was with was a guy canned Miguel, he was from the states, Minnesota I think; and he was in his thirties and he was very cute and he was gay. I was drunk enough that my horny and don’t give a shit factor was stronger that my fear of being gay.

I liked it, and that had me convinced that I was gay, a fag and it kind of kick started me into my weight loss. No one wants to sleep with a three hundred plus pound fairy. I started that winter and that was hard as hell with my Mom being a feed you person and x-mas and stuff but I took Ice skating back up and cross country skiing and shoved a lot of driveways. Decent money too, most people didn’t have snowblowers and not every Tom, Dick, or Harry had a tractor to run a ploughing service then.

After graduation I moved to Truro and went to teachers college. Nothing like college to put you through weight loss. I bought a bike and rode that or walked and I dropped a shitton of weight. But not the stuff came out that I wanted. I had mobs and a fat ass and my mother’s hips and frustrated after awhile I went back and forth with the binge eating and stuff until I was with a guy… Mason who didn’t mind my extra chunks and he noticed how into my moobs I could be and that’s when I found out that I’m Intersexed.

I literally had my mom’s and sisters hips and breasts but they were just sort of developed because on well my guy stuff but that was kind of it aside from the whole female hormone levels that I did have was a big factor in my life long fight with my fat. I didn’t have any of the reproductive system at all.

Honestly as curious as I am the thought of PMS scared the shit out of me. I did talk to the doctor and finding out I was a small B at the time I had debated getting everything chopped off. I decided not to and actually it made a lot of sense why I had always felt and identified with the world the way that I did. So I decided and went on hormones and started to see someone else was inside of me hidden by graduation.

No, not the Valedictorian, not even that popular even then I was the fag who became the tranny freak or was becoming the tranny freak. Fed up with everything I took an ESL (English Second Language.) job teaching in Brazil in Rio.

And that’s where a lot of the weight came off, doing anything in forty degree plus Celsius weather will have you dumping weight and then it happened. I was exploring my options as sort of a transperson after my second year working and I was…low end pretty? Compare to the brazillian girls I was a dog though and kind of feeling it too.

Then…then I met Enrique.

He was a handler of porn stars and drag queens and he ran an escort service for T-girls, well he had a stable for T-girls. I liked Enrique, he was a bastard and he was a criminal and a lot of other things but he was really blunt about things too. He’d pay me really good money, I’d live in a all T-girl building like a dorm, he’d pay for my surgery and in return I’d work for him for ten years or a hundred thousand US whichever came first.

Honestly I’d like to say that I said no but I was so sick and tired of being the ugly duckling and I’d been in Rio long enough that it’s not seen like it was home and there were people that preferred she-males over GG’s every time.

I was so tired of getting the shitty end of the stick. So I said yes. The surgery was painful, face, nose, lips, not the throat our voices are part of the allure as well as the Adam’s apple. It was done by really professional guys to my doctors were actually German or Swiss or something like that. The place was clean and everything too.

The breast implant after surgery hurts…really hurts. It’s like the sick ow of getting smacked in the balls but added to that is that feeling that tight ripping skin or like that pain when you break a bone and things get swelled tight and it hurts. That’s the pain.

I did it all too, movies, dates, just out and out sex. I was a total slutty whore my first year because I was pretty, I thought I was fucking beautiful and I was still a twenty something and young enough to get swept up and drunk on it all.

But I calmed down. I became more relaxed and I loved it where I was at the time and everything. No drugs, Enrique was a stickler for that and he didn’t really like his girls smoking either and we even had a gym and a swimming pool and a walled courtyard. We never dated me we never wanted to and we still made money.

Any tips or gifts were ours, we got paid on the movies and we got paid for being to the pleasure rooms. These were places where us girls could get paid if we wanted when we hooked up together. It was semi often; there was always a flurry of interest in fresh meat as it were and stuff. But the pleasure rooms were internet hooked up for people to pay and watch.

It wasn’t all good.

There were those that hated us and I have acid scars on my back where some crazy GG bitch tossed battery acid on us because she lost a boyfriend to one of us.

I’m been beaten up five times by men who hated what I was, three times by women and was stabbed with a steak knife by one of those. I’ve been raped twice…both of them were tourists and….

I stop and hang onto the foot wide railing of the bridge that goes over too the other side of town and rest my forehead on the cool steel. It helps with the flashbacks I have from the rapes.

I’ll spare you those details of that time right now; I’m just not ready to talk about it. And I hang on pretty hard there to the railing to hold myself up and fighting through not just the memories that can just swallow you up without warning but that hard hit afterwards that I get of…alone.

There’s no one here to hold me, to comfort me to love me and tell me it’s alright. That’s a hole in me most of the time but after an attack it becomes a chasm.

It’s so tempting to jump off the bridge into the river but I know this river it’s full of stuff the idiots just tossed off it for fun. Yeah I’m not that high up and it’s a good six or seven feet deep here but I’d rather not get myself all cut to shit.

I push myself to standing and run harder down the street into the south end of town. It’s all you can really call it just about eight streets mostly dead end and kind of set out like a number sign.

There’s a frowny moment when I pass an empty lot where Jerry Chapman had his Irving gas station, it’s gone. I was hoping to get gas here. He was a friend of Dad’s and one of those guys where if you ran out of gas he’d run it out to you. He’d give you gas of credit if you were dirt broke until payday and the same with repairs. He wasn’t really an educated guy but he knew engines and he knew people. Y’know one of those guys who kept all us poor kids and families from getting any poorer.

Knowing Irving they likely shut him down for having a soul.

Just past that I hang a hard left across the street and up the first part of the squared part of that number sign layout. It’s a street with a steep hill and fairly long and just what I need. I power up the hill pushing myself and making things in my muscles protest at me and making me sweat and pant until I get ontop of the hill and then it flattens out. I slow the pace till I can do run breathing but don’t really slow down. I’m hitting that sweat soaked bit of the run where it stops getting hard after a few more minutes like your body starts to say okay…we’re running. That’s the zone and it’s where I can feel myself burning calories.

I go out to the Esso station where the town gets most of its furnace oil from and go past it and smell the smells of the farms. I’m almost to the far corner and the town limits and there about five farms out here that are still busy by the look of them.

I’ve missed the country.

Rio was nice and I did go on quite a few nice trips to places for the movies and a couple of vacations with the other girls and got to see some really cool stuff. Like Montu Pichu, some of the temples but mostly I was in the cities and stuff. The same with Japan. I lived over there after Enrique let me out of my contract. I didn’t do any of the stuff in Rio in Osaka, nope I went back to teaching over there.

How did I get out from under with Enrique?

I actually didn’t I did my ten years and he let me go and with all the money I had made on my own and some extra for actually teaching the girls English at the house while I was there. No threats or bullshit he was a nice guy the entire time I knew him and it was just after ten years I was close to thirty. And he let me go to have room for another girl an younger girl to take my spot.

He’ll always be a friend. My bosses in Japan weren’t bad but they were bosses and they were very professional.

In Brazil we had group holidays Easter and Christmas, and whatever else the girls had going on. We were a mix about half brazillian girls and about half from other parts of the world.

Just thinking about the place makes me smile and that and the endorphins from the running are chasing the funk and crap out of my system. I finish that part and I figure I’ve done about seven miles and if I go right down Water Street the Main It’ll be about nine miles by the time I get back to the Lodge.

It’s still a nice part of the jog, about half past eight and people are starting to pull into places where the work and the school buses are going. I see some faces I know or think I know. I turn the heads of all the guys well except Erik Mosher who’s opening Steadman’s department store. He’s a few years older than me and so swishy boy fairy gay that if he really was a pixie then his pixie dust would be not just glowing but sparkly and pink. (Grins)

I wave to him anyway and he waves back, he’s a really friendly person and honestly he saves a lot of closeted gays around here by being beyond the stereotype.

I get back to the Inn and head inside and the girl from last night is in the open kitchen and we wave to each other and I head upstairs to take a shower. There is a separate shower stall and I strip and slip in and lather up.

Honestly I love showers and being all soapy and slick and after a run it’s the best. I soap my breasts up getting turned on in the process. I have real breasts they’ve just had a surgical boost and still I’ve gotten to where I like who I am. I get that turned On I stroke off in the shower and relieved…sorta I climb out of the shower and start reach for some towels.

“Oh…!”

The girl’s there with a breakfast in bed tray, I’m naked and she’s staring at me. At my crotch, at my breasts back and forth then all of me.

“Uhm, excuse me but did you get a good look miss?” I pull the towel around myself.

“S…sorry.. I knocked but you never answered.” She’s nervous, freaked…no…her nipples are poking out of her pink t-shirt. I…hmmm…she cute, sixteen to eighteen it’s a weekday and she’s not in school so…I walk over set the tray on the coffee table and pour a coffee.

I take a drink and she’s still staring. I walk right up to her. “I’m Haley.”

“Julie…”

“So Julie you liked what you see?”

“I uhm, ah…”

“Yes?” She nods her head and I step to and kiss her. Her eyes go huge but she doesn’t fight it, I’d stop if she did instead she slowly kisses back scared, shy, I slip my hand into her jeans and rub her panties. She’s soaking them fast and she whines and humps my hand.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck Haley…”

I slide my hand up just under the panties and rub her drenched pussy. “Oh fu, oh fu, oh fu…!”

My towel falls and there’s only a second or two before she’s on my breasts suckling like a starved animal and feeling them with shaking hands.

“Easy Julie, easy…they’re not going away, slowly enjoy it…ugn…uh…I am…”

She slows down but is still a little crazed. “You’re my first…girl…Haley.”

“And you’ve always wanted to?”

“God fuck yes, but…”

“Hey, I get it….I’m from here, not exactly LGBT friendly not even nearby…people talk shit, and they won’t stop until you either move away or find a spot on the overpass.”

“Yeah…I mean I’m not Lez, Lez I don’t want to shove my face into every cunt there is around…but…”

“Julie, I know a lot of lesbians, some are great friends, ex lovers, and most of them are just normal people…nice girls like you….oh mmmm…you’re good at this…”

I lead her over to the bed. Sudden, strange, odd? Not really about sixty percent of those who find out about me are like Julie and turned on by it, about twenty percent are unfazed or don’t say anything and the rest usually are freaked out or pissed.

Am I being a slut?

Maybe?

I haven’t been with anyone in a long time and Julie is young and sweet and real. I said I did movies right? Lots of fake there, the really rare time there’s a connection but mostly it’s work. Really little connection.

I peel her out of her jeans and she’s doing her shirt and oh she has the sweet B cups of youth and I suckle on them myself then kiss her, I show her about kissing girl to girl and moving so our breasts touch and caress each other then I slide down her body…lean her back on my bed and I sink my face into her groin.

I’m her first girl, I’ve been with a lot of nice girls…I’m more into a guy if I ever really found one that’s more into me that some fetish or toy. But I like the softer side of girl on girl lovemaking. I go slowly and try to make this worthy of a girls first time.

I kiss her mound, and drag my lips over her labia…she got that just out of youth little girl fuzz going on…it’s cute. I move my lips up and down her slit and they flex and pulse and she leaks moisture and on the next move up I run the tip just in the seam of her lips and she cries out with a loud “Oh!” I just use my lips again back down and Inhale her deeply, loudly and kiss her pussy. She whimpers and I move my head and kiss and lip touch and drag along her inner thighs. My hands run in light fingertip touches, and sexy nail drags even more lightly over her legs…Julie is whimpering and writhing on the bed.

Women, TG, GG, Intersexed like me…foreplay is lovemaking…get us going, take the time, pay the attention make us feel like we’re sexy but make us feel that we’re treasured and slutty at the same time.

When I finally open her lips there’s a flow of wetness running out of her, I lick it up. “Oh Julie, Oh thank you…such a juicy, sweet, pretty pussy, thank you…you’re so fucking sexy…Oh…Mmmm…” the last part is the Oh…into her sex as I delve into her, the Mmmm is inside of her as I make love to her with my mouth.

I use my hands too, her legs over my shoulders and my forearms resting in her thighs I use my fingers to pull her open a little but more to massage the sides of her mound… just gently…It’s something I do like running the pads of my thumbs over her labia while I’m exploring her with my mouth. I lip the inside edges of her vagina and use my lips over her engorged clitty that barely parted lips moving around in a circle frenching her. I lick in tiny flicks and push the tip of my tongue along those hidden little glands there on the sides of her clitty.

It takes maybe five minutes before she’s screaming and crying and swearing, she’s really loud and bucking, it’s a good thing my arms are there holding her down and I here her screaming… “Haley!, oh my god Haley, Haley….., Oh!, fuck it hurts, it’s feels, what…what are you…doing to me it hurts gooooood!!!”

She arches and claws at the bed and screams. I’m reward by here having a female ejaculation as she hits this violent orgasm.

She falls back panting and I drink from her and suckle her until I notice she’s crying.

“Julie? Are you okay?”

“No……What was that?”

“Oh honey, you’ve never felt that before?”

“No…..” (Sobby whine.)

“You came baby, you just came that’s all…honey, the boys you’ve been with never made you feel that?”

“No…..” (Really sobs.) “There was that before what you did happen a couple of times but by that time it was over… (Sniffle.)

“Has a boy ever gone down on you?”

“No…no one has but you…”

“Hey it’s normal, different things get us there….so…”

“So….?”

“Should I keep going?”

“Oh god, fuck Haley please….?”

I’m a bit pissed, the guys in this town don’t seem to have changed. There’s desperation in her voice for more. I sink back down and I keep going, I do everything that I’ve learned from stuff from conversations to actual sex and even that whole…stupid cliché of the sore jaw…(Grr) bullshit, you feel that do what I did…I let my head to rest on her pubic bone and use my hands and thumbs and finger to please her moving to kiss her in different places, real kissing to as I bring her to several orgasms in a row.

My last act of oral love is giving her head.

You can just if you’re really interested, really wanting to please her you push into her face deep and slip a index finger inside or both and I use both and stroke her clitty with your finger pads and get her so hard then use you fingers to sorta push her clitty up jus a bit the I wrap my lips around her clitty just getting past the little hood and I use my lips…just like on a ring pop or a sucker of a guys tip and it’s the soft lips over and over stroking her off with soft satiny lips and the occasional time to stop, purse my lips around her and bob my head, jerking her off sort of…it’s the pulling feeling and motion not a yanking and I add in a frenching swirl with my tongue…rubbing those glands at the base until she squirts again harder and harder three, four, five little juicy squirts as she wails so much her voice cracks.

I make my way up and kiss with her and hold her and caress with her as she sobs against me. I had this happen only twice before, a girl never having had a real orgasm before…some girls need different things to find release, some need oral, some anal all sorts of things…Me If you squeeze my breasts as I’m getting off I get off a lot stronger.

Anyway, I sort of get the reaction. Here she’s likely been sexually active from anywhere from fourteen to sixteen hopefully not younger but she’s never been given what she needs to really get what all the other girls are raving about…for years. And some girls don’t come by knowing how to get themselves off either.

No, it’s true and even for guys…there’s no instruction book about getting yourself off. Guys have it easier that’s true for the most part but there’s a good self cum and there’s just getting off.

Honestly one thing I’ve got down is sex can be just as complicated and individual as gender stuff.

We make love some more, I let her take top another first for her and she get’s herself off and she’s a lot more confident getting me off and making love to my breasts and me and I’m only good for that one orgasm of mine since I had taken matters into my own hands. She get’s my off in other ways as she uses my travel buddy on me and she’s gentle but there’s a light in there though that she liked that bit of control.

It became well past noon by the time we were done and ate her cold pancakes and bacon and fed each other and played syrup games. I was packed and we passionately kissed goodbye trading cellphone numbers, e-mail and stuff and she walked me to my car. I hold her hands and look her in the eyes.

“Julie, listen to me okay?”

“Okay…”

“If you decide to get out of here someday, and explore this side of you I want you to be picky. There’s a lot of jerky girls and women out there looking for the fast hook up if you’re headed that way with your life. Be..Picky, Five dates no matter how horny you both get you’re worth it. Clubbing…it’s fun but it’s not a date. Tell them that, you’re worth finding someone who really wants to be with you. Be open minded too, there’s some really great people out there that get overlooked.”

“God Haley, I could so go with you…”

“No, I’m still not sure where my life’s going, but we’ll still be close, we’ll stay in touch.”

“Good, thank you Haley, thank you.”

We hug and I drive away watching the young woman there hugging herself but in that good way…thing. Not the young girl I had met signing in last night.

I make one stop before leaving town and that’s at Gordon’s Greenhouses where I buy a whole bunch of plants and flowers and bushes and drive out past The Junction stopping at River Phillip Cemetery. I have an older cousin buried here. I dig and plant a small three foot high red maple sapling there for him and pile some wood chip mulch around it so it’s noticed and not mowed over. The next two are my Mom’s twin sister June’s first two girls who died from smoke inhalation like ten years before I was born. I plant a small rosebush over each of them. I might not ever be back here and it’s actually the first time I’ve ever been here.

But Mom went here just to pay her respects every decoration day. They were seven, so I bury them each a Barbie doll and I don’t care… (Sniffle) There’s no one going to visit them but me really so I deface their graves… I sit and put these girly plastic stickers on the bases of the headstones with stars and moons and unicorns and stuff like that.

Dammit, I’m crying because…just because and I get in the car and load my Jan Arden and Luba, and Sarah McLaughlin from my I-pod to the car stereo. I listen to the sad sweet tunes and sing along as I drive my mood taking me into Collingwood and up the Windam hill road into the Town of Springhill.

My Mom was from here and a lot of my relatives too All my grandparents are here and great Aunts and Uncles and I drive around here a bit just seeing stuff that changed. I spent a huge amount of time here as a kid here in town. I stop at the Liquor Store and get some rum and some whiskey, Home Hardware for a few things and the grocery store too. I wanted some fried chicken from The Hilltop restaurant, one of the best take outs in town but it’s long gone too. (Sigh.)

I’ll eat later.

I head to the graveyard here in Springhill. I know I’m being morbid and stuff but this is where my family is buried. I actually love it here. I know weird right but it’s old, full of trees and bushes and flowers. The place has this history from all those claimed by the Springhill Coal mines, WW1, WW2 and just life. Something like this grounds me, speaks to my soul and makes me cry.

I stop the car in front of their double stone graves it’s one of those big headstones with the interlocking hearts on it. The tears pour out as I take the stuff out and I smile. “Hi Momma, Hi Daddy…” I talk to them, what that’s private but My Daddy’s been dead a long time and he’s never met Haley, Mom only knew me over the phone and she was…Mom…she just rolled with it. She never knew about my sex job, and she told me several times I was a better daughter than my older sister.

Fucking right I am. My older sister basically couldn’t stand growing up as poor as we did and the dumb cunt…I’m allowed she’s my sister…well she married this guy, who was a carpenter thinking she’d be in the money, but he turned out to be a drunk that couldn’t hold down a job if his life depended on it. She left our family literally when she married into his. She hated us for being poor, she hated us for the life she walked into and never left.

She doesn’t know that I changed, doesn’t know I exist and I wasn’t hard to find. My e-mail and my phone number never changed except in name and she has never ever written, phoned or even sent me a card…. I did nothing to her except be the youngest…Mum and Dad had more when I came along, she was so jealous…of me and of everyone. I’ll never get why.

She has a fraternal twin, and he’s somewhere in the States having fled from the law over drug charges and was one of those guys that got into the wrong crowds to be cool and accepted. I guess it runs in the family really, we all did that to different degrees. He’s likely stuck down there with his record and not being an American citizen he’s likely keeping his head down really low since 911 happened.

Sigh, sorry lots of baggage and being here brings this out more.

I dig and plant around their graves. A blue spruce sapling behind the grave stone and a small bush cedar on each side of the base. I bury a box there too, some of the family photos I have with me us as kids, their wedding… (Sniff) a few maple hard candies for mom and a bag of dulse for dad.

My Maternal Grandparents are next and I have a shot of rum or two with my mom’s mum and light a smoke for her setting it on the headstone and one for him too. I’ve a quart of rum for her and a six pack for him and I have a smoke with them, they each burn through two and I have a beer with Grampy Ben. He was a drunk but still sort of a good enough guy…soldier, miner then a garbage man, back when the garbage man drove a five ton truck instead of the garbage trucks we all know. I bury with them the rest of the smokes, a pipe and a pouch of pipe tobacco and a bag of Werther’s original candies.

Yes I’m doing this differently but down in Brazil it’s not that uncommon to share with the dead like that. I loved the idea and a lot of other cultures did the same thing. My dad’s parents are next. I don’t talk that long with them but I plant lilac for Grams and a bag with some flour, sugar, salt and yeast for her because she loved to bake and Gramps some licorice pipes and kiss the tombstone.

My Great Uncle Charlie was last of the gifts and he was Paternal side great uncle, the man who lived alone all his life and was one of the best men in the world. He was one of the last blacksmiths and ferriers around here anymore. He did apprentice some guy while I was gone. I share a bottle of Teacher’s highland cream and a pipe and some tobacco for it.

I see a few other distant relatives there and talk a little bit and stop at my great Aunt Vie’s. I barely knew here much we only saw her like three times a year and I’m sure she was a lesbian, spinster they said. All I know she lived with my Aunt Rose and Rose wasn’t blood. Vie was the girliest woman I knew as a kid a 1940’s lipstick.

I reach into my purse and take out two tubes of lipstick and bury them in the plot. “They’re the latest thing honey right out of Japan, you’ll be the talk of the clouds.”

I get in my car and drive down the hill and stop at the Lamp Cabin tavern and have a steak with chips and fried onions ketchup and steak sauce and a Labatt’s blue beer with pepper and tomato juice. It’s the one place in town left from my child hood and the place and meal I had my first beer with my dad at ten years old…yeah okay it was mostly tomato juice but still.

I leave a twenty as a tip and smile at the flirty stares but leave and drive two hours and get a room at near the CN (Canadian National) train station. I’m taking the train out to B.C, but making it my always wanted all across Canada trip.

I’m tired but after the flashback, Julie, the graveyards and everything I’m spent and drained but I’m also really feeling the quiet now that I’ve stopped for the night. I’m lonely, I want to feel something with roots, something unique….something mine, someone for me.

I grab the extra pillow and hug it to myself and cry myself to sleep.