Synopsis:

A reality redeemed; a fantasy renewed.

Story:

Whatever Your Heart Desires Ch. 06
by Cherysse St. Claire  ©

I was excited about going out with Lexi, more so than I had been about
anything in the months since Danni left. The prospect of spending my
birthday alone, without my sweetheart, was just too daunting. Being
dragged out of my self-imposed exile for a night of drinking and dancing
actually looked like an attractive alternative for a change. Perhaps it
was just time. I had put the rape behind me. There was no question I was
buoyed by what Lexi had told me about Danni's inclinations towards me. I
finally had something positive to be hopeful about. In the meantime, I
felt it was OK to live again.

My girlfriend had already finished with her final customer by the time I
arrived. She whisked me into her couch and did a quick 'touch-up' on my
hair. With the help of two of her operators, I got my nails and makeup
done, too. The finished product went well beyond my carefully-cultivated
professional image, so necessary for my successful career. I mean, I still
looked like a 'pro' — but in a different genre.

After closing the salon, we adjourned to Lexi's luxury condo to dress. The
ensemble I had brought to wear perfectly complimented this new and very
different "me". I had purchased the royal blue latex sheath on a shopping
excursion with Danni, shortly before our break-up. It was a halter style
with a deeply-scooped back. The V'd neckline plunged almost to my navel,
revealing way more tantalizing boobflesh than I was used to. The hemline
was appropriately short, barely covering the tops of my sleek, sheer black
stay-up stockings.

Did it fit me like a second skin? Is the Pope Catholic? I had chosen
stay-ups because I didn't want the dress's sensual lines spoiled by the
outline of a garter belt. At the last minute, I decided to forego panties
as well, just to be daring. Aside from my lush, feminine contours, the
only protrusions showing through the sensual rubber were my stiff, swollen
nipples and prominent pubic mound.

I accessorized the look with a pair of Royal Blue patent platform sandals.
The open- toed, ankle-strap design had a two-inch sole and towering
six-and-a-half-inch stiletto heel, both of clear Lucite. Huge silver hoop
earrings and a forearm full of jangly bangles finished the look.

Lexi had done a stunning scarlet patent leather two-piece bustier and
microskirt combination which looked absolutely breathtaking against her
raven hair and fair complexion. She laced herself into thigh-high red
patent boots with five-inch heels to add an even more exotic aura.

We ate at a cozy little trattoria, more for its convenience to our
evening's destination than anything else. The food was wonderful, although
my mind really wasn't on it. Good service? We were doted on, slavishly, by
our servers, plural. Lexi and I were never quite certain which one was
actually working our section. At least a half-dozen diners, single and
otherwise, made it clear with their eyes they would have given their souls
to be part of our personal wait staff that night. We tipped well for the
attention, but probably could have gotten away with no tip at all simply
by telling them where we would be later. Then, we were on our way.

The bouncer at the door whisked us beyond the velvet rope instantly.
Gotham's atmosphere already seethed with electricity. In a room full of
pretty people, Lexi and I drew attention like twin beacons. We were
offered drinks all night, but I made certain we consumed only what I
observed to pass directly from the bartender's hand to ours. We danced,
too; with each other, and a never-ending stream of male admirers.

We caught the eye of a trio of hunks I recognized as professional
athletes. Months after the fact, the entire town was still basking in the
afterglow of a championship season. These three were doted on for their
heroics, just as Lexi and I had been at dinner. One of the three split
off, heading for the other side of the room. The other two made their way
to our side and requested a dance. The dance became two, then three, then
I was no longer counting. Their manners were gentlemanly but their sensual
appeal was anything but. I knew where this was headed, but was having
misgivings about going there. I asked them to excuse Lexi and me while we
went to the Little Girls' Room to powder our noses.

After I did that, and fixed my lipstick, I stopped and just stared at
myself in the mirror. Lexi picked up on it immediately.

"Tell me," she stated quietly.

"I'm not sure I can go through with this," I intoned carefully. "I'm not
sure I want to."

"The assault," Lexi inquired, "or Danni?"

"I am more cautious about having sex with strangers," I admitted, "but I
won't deny I'm attracted. It's mostly about Danni. This is what got me
into trouble in the first place. If I screw up again...."

Lexi held both my arms and looked at me intently.

"If you really don't want to do this, we will go back and make our
excuses," she asserted. Then, she smiled and added: "I'll just beat you up
over it later. Seriously, I won't force you to do anything you aren't
ready for, but consider this. You have already admitted to me you have no
exclusive rights to Danni. Don't you think she feels the same way,
whatever she feels about getting back together with you? If the two of you
decide to patch things up later on, fine. No one will be happier for you
than me.

"In the meantime, you have a life. It's time you started living it again.
Are these guys dangerous? Hell yes! What fun would it be if they weren't?
But we know how to find them again if we have to. They're under contract."

My girlfriend smiled and winked at me as she said that. Then, she looped
her arm through mine and led me towards the door.

"I have a hunch," she observed, "if Danni knew about this, she would tell
you to go ahead and enjoy yourself. It's your birthday. She wants you to
be whole again. We all do. It's time, Kristen — and Danni loves you that
much. No one doubts you love her that much."

I pursed my lips and stared at the floor as I thought about it, then
slowly nodded my head. Lexi ducked her head down to look into my eyes.

"Yes?" she inquired, smiling coyly.

I smiled back.

"Yes," I agreed.

"OK," she chirped, pulling me close to her as we returned to the dance
floor. "Let's get nasty!"

If you have ever enjoyed the VIP room in such a club, you know the rules
are a little different there than for the general public. Liberties are
taken, and allowances made, by and for 'players' at that level —
particularly if the room is closed to all but a certain few VIP's and
their special guests, as it was that night. Disrobing was unnecessary;
whether I wanted to admit it or not, Lexi and I had both 'dressed for
action'. We got all the action we could handle.

Despite my initial reluctance, it felt good to have sex again, even if
this gorgeous stud was a mere stand-in for the partner I longed for. On
the other hand, this guy had an amazing cock. I gave as good as I got. His
chiseled good looks, Greek God physique, satiny mahogany skin and tall,
turgid tool got me off again and again. Lexi gave no indication her
experience was any less powerful than mine. Two twosomes crossed over into
variations of a foursome, then back.

After a time, I became aware a third couple had joined us. It was the
third member of the trio, recently arrived, presumably with yet another
girl chosen from the throng on the dance floor. I saw him, on top, in the
subdued lighting. He was just as impressive as my date and Lexi's, if not
more so. I happened to catch my girlfriend's eye at that moment and
glanced in the direction of the new arrivals. She looked in that
direction, winked, and shrugged her shoulders a bit, as if to say: Why
not? The more, the merrier.

At that moment, the third couple rolled over with her on top. I saw her
from the back, admiring her perfect hourglass physique, shapely,
stocking-clad legs and the black patent platform stilettos she wore. Her
top had been removed and the black patent skirt she wore was bunched up
around her full hips and lush, heart-shaped ass. He was doing her anally,
and she was taking every inch of his impressive dong. Her long, curly hair
brushed back and forth across her naked back. I could just make out the
outline of her overfull, jiggling breasts. As she moved her head, a beam
of overhead light flicked across her silky mane, which flashed brilliantly
copper in the illumination.

I thought my heart would never start beating again. It couldn't be! My
pussy seized the cock inside me, bringing my partner to a screeching halt
in mid-thrust. After I engineered a swift change of positions, my Adonis
was thrusting into my pussy from behind while I knelt upright, pressed
into the backside of the red-headed enchantress. I hadn't been mistaken.
Even the scent of her Obsession remained the same after all these months!

There were some startling differences. Her cheekbones were much fuller
now; so were her lips. The bounce of her big titties hadn't been my
imagination. She had gotten a boob job! I came at the thought she had
committed herself so fundamentally, so permanently, to this new plane of
existence.

Her eyes were closed in concentration. They opened slowly when she felt my
body against hers and my fingernails tweaking those erect, sensitive
nipples I had loved so much. She smiled sideways at me when she saw my
face. She reached behind me to grab my asscheeks, pressing me tightly
against her. I had caught just a glimpse of her fingernails as her hands
passed my field of vision. They appeared to be just as long as Celine's
had been, though deep red with gold nail art, as had been Danni's
preference. The feel of those elegant talons digging into my tender
assflesh sent chills up my spine. We came in that position, together, for
the first time in months, our respective studs thrusting into us.

The candy store was once again open in my imagination. At times, our
foursome became a sextet — no pun intended. In even my wildest flight of
fancy, I had never envisioned sitting astride one stud, his magnificent
fuckshaft filling my pussy, while my own sweet Danni knelt upright behind
me, fucking my ass. She, in turn, was being fucked from behind by her
stallion. When my two lovers came, gushing their loads inside me, I went
over the edge and stayed there, not caring where, when, or who I was, nor
how far the fall might be.

The moment passed, as all moments do. Danni hugged me tightly from behind,
leaned over, and whispered in my ear.

"Is it as good as you fantasized?"

I gazed over my shoulder at her face, smiling contentedly.

"Better."

She kissed me lightly on the cheek.

"Happy Birthday, Baby."

I stared at her uncomprehendingly, then spun my head to the other side and
shot a glance at Lexi. She was riding her own pony, but was gazing at me
intently. She grinned and winked. I knew at that moment I had been set up.
I returned my attention to Danni, kissing her deeply. She kissed me back.

"Thank you. I do love you so much. I can only think of one more thing that
would make it perfect."

She gazed down, shrugged her shoulders a little, then kissed me lightly on
the cheek.

"I can't. I still have some things to work out. I just didn't want you to
think I didn't remember — or care."

My heart sank. Damn it! For a moment, I had thought.... I really had hurt
her. But she still had thought enough of me to give me my fantasy for my
birthday. I really didn't deserve her. At least, I could pretend — and
enjoy her as long as I could.

Lexi convinced me, with difficulty, to adjourn with her to her condo with
our dates. At that moment, the love of my life was once again on top,
riding her stalwart steed. I gazed into her eyes silently, beseechingly.
She looked down at the gorgeous stud beneath her, then looked at me,
smiled wanly, and shook her head.

"We have... other plans."

I tried to hide my bitter disappointment. I hugged her, kissed her cheek
tenderly, then breathed into her ear: "I've missed you." As we left the
room, I glanced over my shoulder to catch a final glimpse of the one who
had always been The One. She was peering over her shoulder, looking at me.

***

I first heard the buzz on one of the local early-morning TV news/talk
shows as I was getting ready for work. A new non-fiction novel was about
to hit bookstore shelves and everyone was touting it as a 'must-read'.
They were calling it the next Black Like Me; a scathing exposé on legal
and social intolerance toward this country's last generally-acceptable
target of discrimination, persecution and hate, narrated by a person who
had lived it first-hand. The title? Desires Deferred: Being Transgendered
In America. The author? Danielle Devereaux.

It couldn't be a coincidence....

I was first in line at the bookstore door the morning it went on sale. I
placed my hand on Danni's picture on the back cover, trying to recapture
the warmth I had once felt when I held her. It felt so good to see her
face again, if only on the cover of a book. I read whenever I had a few
free minutes. It was told in the first person, as well as quotes and
third-person narrations gleaned from the experiences of other T-Girls
Danni had met while 'researching' her story.

I devoured every word, starting with Chapter One: When You First Dream The
Dream. She told of T's who had known there was something wrong with their
gender identity as early as age two, as well as those that "came late to
the game", finding their other self for the first time in their adult
years. She wrote of girls who lived their whole lives in the closet, as
well as those who were proudly, defiantly "out". She chronicled those who
shared their special identity with a Significant Other, those who had only
each other, and those who had no one but themselves. She revealed those
who had come out and found at least some measure of happiness, as well as
others who had lost everything in the pursuit of their dream.

Some, mostly the cross-dressers ("weekend warriors" as they were known in
The Scene) were identified only by pseudonym - to protect their 'straight'
identities, jobs, families and friends. A cadre of the braver "24/7"
(full-time) girls were identified by their street or "Drag" names. They
provided the bulk of the quotes and third-person material. One in
particular, the author's "Drag Mother", had been shadowed through her
world on a day-to-day, sometimes hour-to-hour basis. Her life and world
was described in vivid, sometimes tawdry detail; the triumphs, tragedies,
successes, failures, joys, sorrows and almost casual horrors that made up
her day. There was a picture of her, which I recognized immediately. I was
stunned. The caption read: Celine D'Arcy. I hadn't had a clue.

Our story was there, too; all of it, minus the names, places and dates. It
was spread out throughout the book, beginning in Chapter Four: When The
Fantasy Becomes Reality

"I was one of the lucky ones. I had someone. She was smart, funny, sexy,
successful, daring, erotic — and stunningly beautiful, inside and out. We
were happy, too — at least, for a while. Unlike others, I didn't have to
invent some rationale to explain my desires to her. She began my
transformation herself, out of the blue. It was her way of thanking me for
giving her 'whatever her heart desired.' She adored 'Danielle', too — at
least, for a while. I don't know what she saw in me as a man, much less as
a woman, but she saw something and I loved her for it and vowed I would do
whatever it took to make her happy. She was my world and I was lucky to
dwell in it while I did. Happiness is relative, and all too transitory. I
regret that happiness ended, but I would more deeply regret it not
existing in the first place, as is true for so many others. I, at least,
have memories, rather than fantasies...."

She continued our story in Chapter Six: When The Reality Becomes Fantasy

"She loved me without limits — or so it seemed at the time. She called
that wonderful beginning 'Fantasyland', but each day after was a new
fantasy fulfilled. If I was 'out there', it was because she extended my
reach. If I was a 'bad girl', she liked me that way. To her, Conformity
was a vehicle, not a destination - and a rental car at that. We loved
often and well, sharing our secret-that-wasn't with strangers-that-weren't
and friends-that-were. I could ask: 'What did I do wrong to lose her?'
Instead, I ask: ' What did I do right to deserve her?'"

My tears began to fall in Chapter Eight: When The Fantasy Ends

"Everything that has a beginning, has an end. Sometimes, it is our
excesses that finally catch up with us. Sometimes, it is boredom.
Sometimes that which we are overcomes that which we strive to be. In our
case, we just made a stupid mistake. The mistake was not that we had
loved, trusted and had faith in each other in the first place. The mistake
was, we lost sight of those things and quit trying. Perhaps it really had
been just an illusion, a bit of parlor magic, as she had always claimed.
In time, the smoke dissipates and the mirrors crack. The house lights come
up. Then, you are faced with the real world; a bed you no longer share in
a home no longer yours. Therein dwells a heart that has moved on. 'This
way to the Egress. Watch your step.' It's cold out there, once the warmth
is gone. You may find warmth again, sometime, somewhere. If not, the
memory of it can warm you, too — just not as well."

There was more of course; the lives, the dreams of so many. Their lives
were about illusion, lived on the edge, one day at a time. Illusion was
their reality, and Reality an illusion. They avoided the 'real world' as
vampires avoided the light; both burned body and soul. In the end, dreams
would be dashed, lives would be crushed and discarded by almighty 'Family
Values'. Society could be cruel if you were perceived to be 'different'.

Danni described the club scene in detail. In their illusory existence, it
was the focal point and sometime defining factor in their social order. As
in any other society, there was a caste system which defined the
individual's place in the hierarchy. From her rich depictions and
characterizations, I had no doubt she was describing Eve's Rib. I don't
know why I never pictured her going there. After our experiences, I just
always envisioned her going to 'straight' clubs. I realized that was my
prejudice talking. As she described in her book, the so-called 'straight'
clubs could, in fact, be a death trap for any T-girl who was 'read' —
found out — even one as beautiful as Danielle. Sometimes, it came down to
a matter of hooking up with the wrong guy, or how drunk he was at the
time. Any girl could identify with that.

The most touching — and disturbing — chapter dealt with what girls in
transition had to do to survive on a day-to-day basis. The truth was,
unless a girl was completely 'unreadable', had iron-clad documentation, or
was just plain lucky, she was likely to be locked out of the job market by
prejudicial hiring managers. Even menial, minimum-wage jobs would be
difficult to secure.

Sometimes the fields of Fashion and Cosmetology would offer opportunities.
The author herself had gone that route and become a licensed Cosmetologist
and Esthetician in the course of her 'research'. Not all the girls could
get into those fields and not all had the talent for it. That left more
creative methods of support. Finding a 'husband' (male lover) was a
preferred path, though often perilous. A 'Sugar Daddy' was considered
Heaven on Earth, but real Sugar Daddies were few and far between, and not
every girl could attract one. Check fraud, supplanted by credit and ATM
card fraud were traditional favorites. Dealing drugs — almost always at
the lower echelons — was another, although the girls all too often got
mixed up with the 'product' themselves. And then there was 'dating'....

I almost died as Danni wove a graphic description of 'dates'. There was no
way she could have known those intimate details without having been there.
I had fantasized about Danni being with men and what a turn-on it would be
to watch. My experience with her at Gotham had been everything I had ever
dreamed, and more. Now, this new, darker vision of her 'working it' was
firmly fixed in my head, in the form of my sweet Danni having sex with
some anonymous guy so she could eat that day or save up some money for the
rent on the little roach-motel studio apartment she described. The thought
chilled me to the bone.

Throughout the book, the level of hate, loathing, suspicion, and casual,
horrific violence directed against the girls on an almost daily basis
numbed the senses. There were beatings, stabbings, shootings, mutilations,
rape (until then, I had not considered a girl fortunate to only be raped)
heaped upon them, both from the outside and within their own community. I
felt like beating my own head against the wall to think of my own Danni
immersed in this cesspool. Then I thought of the others who lived it every
day with her.

She ended on a positive note with Chapter Eleven: When The Reality Is
Redeemed

"I hadn't anticipated writing this chapter. Happy endings so seldom happen
in our world. In truth, this one hasn't either, but I have seen a glimmer
of hope. It came at a most unlikely place and time, amid an improbable
tangle of bodies. Two among them had known each other's touch before. The
touch became a caress, which begat a kiss, which rekindled a desire that
had never really died, despite the tears and trauma.

In that magical previous time, Desire had been the child of Love, Trust,
and Faith. Fantasy and Reality had been one and the same - and could be
again if you tried. How much of yourself are you willing to invest in the
attempt? How much are you willing to risk? How much is Happiness worth?

I finished those words on Thursday night. I felt so uplifted by them, felt
happy endings just might be possible after all. Then, I read the epilog:

"Celine D'Arcy died on a warm afternoon in April from complications of
AIDS. She didn't linger, which was a blessing — one of the few in her
twenty-six years. The sun streaming in through the hospital window warmed
her, where the embrace of her long-departed lovers could not. Some of her
friends attended; those that were strong enough to face the shadow of
mortality that might all too soon embrace them as well. Her family
attended her, too; that is, if you count me as 'family'. She seemed to
think so. We were family at a time we had no other, whatever our
respective reasons. That made me feel special, loved. Isn't that what
family is all about? I hope she felt the same way. That, and this book are
her only legacy."

I cried myself to sleep around three AM, then called in sick on Friday. I
read it again over the weekend.

Danni's book broke huge and stayed huge. She made the rounds of the talk
shows. Some interviewers were encouraging and sympathetic. The rest were
at least civilized, given her commercial success. Dear God, she looked
beautiful! Then again, she always had. Her body looked even better under
the studio lights. She wore the charcoal suit and crepe blouse that looked
so good on her. Her new boobs were exquisite!

Danni revealed the book had originally been commissioned as a free-lance
feature story for a major men's magazine (that must have been the "big
project" she had mentioned). She had felt a special attraction, even
kinship to that world as long as she could remember. She had felt lucky to
snag the assignment, but the T-girl community was notoriously closed to
outsiders, particularly men. She wasn't sure how she was going to get
close enough to the people to do the story justice. Then, Kismet
intervened, in the form of the person she loved most in life. Through an
unbelievable series of circumstances, she was handed her 'entré' to that
world on a silver platter — along with a unique insight she could never
have achieved as a man.

As she delved more deeply into the story, she realized she could not
possibly do it justice in twenty-five hundred words. She went back to the
magazine, notes in hand, and cut a deal with their publishing arm for a
book instead. She was then able to detail her own story, in depth, as well
as those of the other girls.

One of the humorous aspects of the story — one she told on several talk
shows — described her return to the magazine's corporate headquarters,
this time as a woman. Upon her arrival, there had been a misunderstanding
by the receptionist. The woman had sent Danni to the wrong room — the one
where they were auditioning prospective centerfolds. She had actually made
the first cut when the 'error' was discovered. When the Publisher heard
about it, she sent Danni back downstairs for the photo shoot, to be used
as a publicity tie-in to the book.

One of the interviewers, a woman, pursued the angle of Danni's own
transformation.

"Danielle, you have previously mentioned you would not have been able to
get close to the transgender community had you not been one yourself. Does
that mean you transitioned specifically to write this book?"

"No, of course not! To be honest, I wasn't even thinking about the story
when my transformation began. I had always harbored a desire, but had
never acted upon it, for fear of turning my real-world existence and
personal relationship upside-down. It began as a sensual experiment
between two consenting adults and blossomed from there. She didn't want it
to end and neither did I. The entré it gave me to the "T" community was a
nice plus. I have no regrets about either."

"You said your transformation was brought about by 'the person you loved
most in life'. That was your wife, wasn't it?"

"Actually, she considered me to be her wife."

"Is she, uh, more masculine than you were?"

"Not even close. I can only dream of being the centerfold material she is.
When we were together, I wanted the whole world to see her and know how
lucky I was. The only reason I don't reveal her identity now is my respect
for her privacy."

"Wow. Returning to the subject of your transformation. She enjoyed it? She
enjoyed you as a woman?"

Danni smiled.

"Several times a night."

The interviewer grinned.

"How were the forces that drove the two of you apart different from the
forces that split up more conventional couples?"

"They weren't different at all. In spite of people's perceptions of us, my
spouse and I were subject to the same personal and social pressures as
every other couple. The cause of our split was distressingly — or
reassuringly — common to everyone. The people broke, not the gender
dynamic."

"I couldn't help but notice you still wear your wedding ring. Aren't you
divorced?"

"No. Technically, we are only estranged, unless she has taken some recent
action that I am not aware of."

"So there is still a chance for a reconciliation?"

Danni smiled again, looking inward.

"When we first split I thought: 'no way'. I immersed myself in my work —
working on this story. I saw so much emptiness, heartache, people who had
no one who would accept them for who they were. I looked back at what I
had had and realized how good it had been. I thought about it a lot. I
began to see that the thing that split us up was... well, I won't call it
petty, but it just didn't seem so important anymore. Then, something
happened one night, a couple of months ago... well, let's just say the
chances are looking better."

"Have you spoken to her recently?"

"Yes, I have. We ran into each other a while back. It felt good after such
a long separation. I remembered why I fell in love with her in the first
place."

"What would you say to her if she were here right now?"

"I would tell her she is still The One. She always has been and always
will be. That is why I still wear the ring."

"What do you think she would say to you right now?"

"I wouldn't presume to put words in her mouth."

I could answer that one — even through my tears.

"I WOULD TELL YOU TO COME HOME, DAMMIT!", I screamed at the television. "I
LOVE YOU. I ALWAYS HAVE AND ALWAYS WILL!"

"Will you call her?"

"I think so, when I'm ready. That will probably have to wait until after
the book tour."

"Thank you, Danielle Devereaux."

Book tour?

I went to the publisher's web site and looked it up. She would be here in
a week!

***

The autograph session began at three. I don't know if she saw me in line.
I had gotten to the bookstore early — or so I thought. There were already
three-dozen or so people in line, waiting for Danni and her entourage to
show up. A hundred or so more came after me. All wanted to get their
copies signed by a genuine 'home town celebrity'. A few of the men had
brought copies of the magazine to have her autograph the historic
centerfold.

She didn't make a huge scene as I handed her my copy. The media was there
and I don't think she wanted them to know who I was. Even then, she was
protecting my privacy. Her eyes sparkled a bit more brightly than before
and her smile was a bit larger. She was very deft in her slight-of-hand. I
don't think anyone other than me noticed she exchanged my copy for one
that had been in her lap.

I stifled my impulse to look until I was out the door. The overleaf was
completely filled on both sides. I froze in the middle of the sidewalk,
rooted to the spot, as I read her words.

Dearest Kristen,

You were, are, and will continue to be the love of my life. Nothing,
before or since, even comes close to the joy I shared with you. The night
I left was the most anguished and painful ever, more so than anything I
have endured since. There hasn't been a day I haven't thought of you, of
us, with longing and regret. There hasn't been a night I haven't missed
your touch, your warmth, and the nearness of you.

Much has happened in my life, as this book details. Some of it took place
while we were still together. None of it could have happened, but for your
imagination, creativity, passion, and love for me. I am a better person
for it, inside and out. Not all the world may agree with that assessment,
but I cannot be all things to all people. I must content myself with being
the best I can be for me. I had hoped I became the best I could be for
you, as well, but I don't count on that. Either way, thank you for helping
me achieve what I have.

I never stopped loving you. I did stop believing in you. I was probably
wrong in doing so. You had always been honest with me about your casual
infidelities, where others would not have been. I accepted you on that
basis, foolishly thinking, like so many others, I could 'change' you in
time. Instead, you changed me — for the better, I think. The exceptions to
that were my heightened, feminine emotions — the negative ones. I
discovered them the night I caught you with Ron Randall.

I actually felt the first pangs of jealousy at Friday's when he first hit
on you. Remember what happened when we got home? I tried so hard to make
you forget all about him. Of course, you didn't, did you? I came home to
find you fucking him in our bed. I had never felt so betrayed in my life.
Oooh, how I wanted revenge! I got it, too. I slept with Lexi and Gwen and
rejoiced when you found out.

When I found out what really happened that night, I almost died. I am
still uncomfortable you invited them over without including me in the
loop. Still, I would never wish that on you or anyone we know.

I got into The Life because it is so intimately linked to the social
fabric of the girls I wrote about. If I wanted to understand THEM, I had
to understand IT. I had an ulterior motive, too. I dated men and sometimes
women, thinking I was, in some way, getting back at you. Of course, it
didn't work out that way.

A lot of it was pretty mechanical. There was nothing remotely attractive
about most of my dates; I just took the money and did what they wanted.
Still, there is something intoxicating about seeing that look in their
eyes, the look that says they want me so badly they are willing to pay to
have me. I know if I had dated more, or longer, I would have been just as
burnt out and dead inside as the other girls, but I didn't, and I'm not
sorry I feel the way I do.

Every once in a while, I got a guy who was really HOT, one that got me off
even as I was getting him off. The best ones were usually spontaneous,
pick-ups in whatever club I was working (the guy I was with at Gotham that
night was one of those). Seeing that look in his eyes, seeing the bulge in
his pants, knowing I made that bulge happen, and I know I just have to
have him. We would go somewhere, and I would peel off his pants, then
touch that beautiful cock of his for the first time.... Mmmm, Baby, that
just makes me so wet! I know this sounds sappy, but I think I understand
you better now.

I never slept with Celine, but not for lack of desire. She would not allow
it. I did not find out why until later. Say what you will about her. Once
you got past the 'attitude', she was one of the most decent, caring human
beings I have ever met. In fact, she reminded me of you. Losing her was
like watching you die before my eyes. I suffered for that, and still do.

Seeing you at Gotham on your birthday, sharing that special fantasy with
you, made me realize just how empty my life has been without you in it. I
cannot forget what happened to make me leave you, just as you cannot
forget what I have done since. The best we can do is to forget it matters.
You made me what I am today, in every sense. In so doing, you made us
stronger; perhaps strong enough to survive this little blip on the radar
screen. I still wear my ring, and proudly. As a very smart cookie once
pointed out to me, "this is forever." My greatest mistake, and regret, is
not taking her at her word. If we give it some time, perhaps we can fix
even that.

With all my love,

Danni

I had thought I was all cried out. I was wrong. How long had it taken her
to formulate those words? What am I talking about? Danni is a professional
writer, an author now, and a damn good one. She probably knocked it off in
one quick draft. Give it some time? Take all the time you need, Sweetie;
I'll be waiting.

Through my tears, I almost missed the hastily-scribbled Post-It note stuck
on the title page.

I'll be done here by five; O'Malley's after. Would you like to share a
fantasy?

D.

I ran for the car as fast as my feet would carry me. God help anyone who
stood between me an O'Malley's front door!

Notes:

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