Evolution / 20

 

“You still need to ‘solo’,” Dara said, spontaneously, as the two women drove home.

Susan sounded disappointed.   “But you said...”

“I know.   And I don’t want to let you go.   And, you know what?   I’m not going to.”

Susan safely assumed that there were conditions here.   “However?”

“However, I’d be depriving you of some pretty powerful experiences.   Face it, Susan, you haven’t had to handle yourself since, well, I first met you.   We’ve been your whole life.”

“But I like that,” said Susan, who flashed back to the kidnapping, and the terrible loss of control she felt then.   Now, it seemed, Dara wanted to set her caged animal free, and it didn’t want to leave.

“But I don’t!   And it won’t be good for you.   You’ve needed me to teach you things about yourself, and you still do.   But my purpose is to see that you become as much of a woman–an adult, independent woman, capable of taking care of herself... as you can.   You haven’t had the freedom and independence that even the ordinary teenage girl enjoys.   How many of them have a friend there all the time to help them dress, do their hair, and handle their ‘feminine protection’?”

  “But, this is different...” Susan complained.

“I know.   I’m teaching you everything an adult woman would know in weeks instead of years.   But you have an advantage, of course.   You already have twenty-five years of experience...”

“Not in this body,” Susan argued.

“Oh, and what a body...” Dara mumbled.   “Susan, what I’m trying to say is... You’ve done very well in your job of... adapting... to what’s happened to you.   You’re a woman, right?   You feel like one all the way through, right?”

It was strange for a moment; Susan wasn’t sure if she needed to explain that she didn’t feel tremendously different.   She felt, well, like herself.   And, yes, she was a woman.   Fine.   “Yes, I feel like a woman.   Thanks to you.”

“Good.   Now you need to take the next step.   You need to be your own woman.   Then, you can be mine.   And I’ll be yours.   Otherwise we’re on unequal footing.”

“But I don’t get it.   What does it take to be my own–“

Dara interrupted, slightly frustrated by the difficulty of communicating the whole concept.   “Susan, look.   You are a woman.   You know everything that all other women do.   You’ve graduated.   There are many, many women out there no more adept at... life... than you are.   Now it’s time to go beyond the ordinary, the lowest common deminator.   You need to be able to socialize, to flirt, to... pick someone up if you wanted to...   to handle yourself when, quite inevitably I’m afraid, someone else tries to pick you up.   You need to learn how to dance!   How to enjoy being yourself!   When you first became female, you could barely crawl.   You couldn’t even pee on your own.   I’ve tought you to walk, now you’re running.   I want to see you fly, Susan.   As high as I can.   Then we’ll be equals in more than just our looks.”

“How can I do that without you, though?   I’ve never danced in a male body.   Nobody ever tought me.   I always thought of myself as very clumsy!”

“You don’t have to do it without me.   I’ll be there, because I want to see it when it happens.   And I had help learning to dance... to fly...   Of course.   But when you can do it on your own, you’re there.   I have to admit it’s kind of selfish of me; I know I’m making you into what I want,   someone who’s played the same games that I have; and has done, and can do, the same things.   But I get the feeling it’s the last chance I’ve got... you’re becoming so... irresistable, Susan, that if I didn’t let you go–even temporarily–when I could, I’d never let you go at all.”

Susan understood, but was nearly in tears.   “Does this mean you can’t stay with me?   What will you do?”

“We’ll see.   You don’t realize how hard this is, I think.   I’m not looking forward to the event, but to what you’ll be after it happens.   Sure, I’ll stay with you, but not all the time; every night.   I can’t get in the way when you are ready to have someone... else... in your bed.”

Susan raised her voice.   “Is that what this is about?   Is that my challenge?   I need to sleep with someone else to prove myself to you?   Isn’t that kind of backwards?”

“Susan, listen...”

Susan was quite upset.   “Well if that’s all you want, I’ll just pick someone up tonight, take a roll in the hay, and be done with it!   What proof do you want... underwear?   Semen sample?   Or, perhaps, someone’s panties?”

Dara sighed.   “Oh no...   I didn’t...”

“Karen told me you were ‘wild’, but I certainly didn’t think–“

The car pulled into the parking lot at Susan’s apartment.

“Look, Susan, I told you this was selfish.   And do you want to know what’s on my mind?   Besides making you a successful, independent person, which I want as my partner, and a mature, social animal which I also want as my partner... There’s an even more selfish desire.   Look, in your entire life as a man you had sex with one female... Karen.   In your entire life as a female, you’ve had me.   And Mark, sort of.   You’ve never done it on your own!   In my life as a female, I’ve made it with several women besides you, and more guys than I can count.   Well, almost.   Now, if we do take each other on as partners, and I become entirely faithful to you, and vice versa, how will I feel knowing that it was me, who was merely supposed to teach you those experiences, cut those experiences short?   I need you to do this so I don’t feel guilty.”

Susan was sniffling, and holding back some tears.

Dara looked at her.   “I have to do this.   So you do.   You’ve become much more than just a friend and sexual attraction to me, Susan, and it scares me.   You know what they say about letting go...”

“And coming back,” said Susan.

“I hope you’ll understand,” said Dara, whose eyes were also getting moist.

“I’ll try,” was all that Susan could say.

Even if she knew she’d be back, the sensation that she was soon to be thrust from the nest was very strong for Susan.   She spent most of the next day at home, sorting out some very old mail, paying bills, and writing a few letters to friends and relatives who still didn’t have a clue as to what had happened to George.   She had some strong menstrual cramps that day, and her flow was obviously increasing towards its peak.   This was the first thing that Dara let her handle by herself, although she gave a few pointers during the day on keeping the cramps under control as best she could.

“Uck,” Susan said.   “I don’t know how women have done this every month,” she said.   “My panties are sticky.”

Dara, who was leaning on the couch and reading a book, didn’t look up.   “Women didn’t have a choice.   We have menstrual extraction now, which is pretty neat.   But you need to experience this, once.   Just think; every woman in the world has done it.   Now you’re one of them.   A small price to pay for having a uterus.”

Susan got up and sat on the toilet for a few minutes.   She contemplated her body again, and what it was now doing to her.   Here was this opening between her legs, where before there had been none, which insisted on discharging this fluid day and night, as if to punish her somehow.   The center of her sexuality seemed to be doing its best to torture her.   It was probably one of the most “different” experiences she had felt so far.   She got up and went back to her desk, to continue balancing the checkbook.

“You may not believe this, but you actually kind of miss it when it doesn’t happen for this long,” Dara said.

Susan shook her head, trying her best to understand that sentiment.

Dara continued reading.   “When it’s happened to you all your life.   And, of course, when it doesn’t happen and you are expecting it, it’s panicville.”

“You mean you thought you might be pregnant?”

“When you’re as sexually active as... well... I was, it sure does worry me.   Turns out I was just a week late or so.   It happens all the time–so many things can throw off your cycle.   It’s one thing you won’t experience–unfortunately, almost.”

“Being worried about being pregnant?” Susan asked.

“No, no... having a ‘cycle’.   Not being able to control it.   Of that feeling of looking on the calendar and realizing ‘here it comes’.”

“Well, I suppose.   But if I’m to ovulate, I know that this happens in about two weeks.”

“I guess.”

“So doesn’t it happen at a bad time?   What do you do?”

“If it was really bad, sometimes, I’d do like you’re doing.   Little errands, cleaning.   But, usually, you don’t let it interfere with you at all.   One of the great secrets that a woman keeps from the world–well, from men at least–is that she’s having her period.   But, with a little practice, and after you learn to feel it and don’t get paranoid about accidents anymore, it really is no problem.   That reminds me... I should get you fitted for a diaphragm.”

“Diaphragm?   Why?” Susan asked.

“Can’t very well have sex with a tampon inside you, you know.”

“You can have sex while this is going on?” Susan asked.   “With a man?   Who would want to...”

“Sure.   We don’t let men get away with telling us that we’re ‘unclean’ anymore.   Besides, when a guy’s about to get laid, do you think a little thing like this will turn him off?”

“Yes,” said Susan.

“You mean you never had sex with Karen during her period?”

“Well...” Susan said.   “I... guess so.   Once.   No, twice.”

“And did it bother you?”

“Well... No.   I kind of thought it was neat that she was sharing that secret with me.”

“Exactly,” said Dara.   “And if it doesn’t bother them, it won’t bother you.   Sure, there’s a few squeamish guys out there.   But usually they’re just not my type.   There’s been more than enough times that I’ve started my period while I had a lover inside me, or been sleeping on top of him and left a puddle on him in the morning.”

“Oh my...” said Susan.

“That’s what I thought.   I was so embarrassed I could have cried.   But you know what?   They thought it was the neatest thing in the world.”

“That’s a surprise,” Susan said.

“Don’t I know it.   So now, it doesn’t bother me anymore.   And it shouldn’t bother you.”

The two women stayed home that day, but Dara insisted on going out the next day, even though Susan’s period was still at or near its peak.   Going for another workout tested the peak of Susan’s paranoia about her period; after all, here she was in tight-fitting, albeit dark-colored, exercise tights, and spread out on leg machines that practically exhibited her crotch to the world.   However, everything worked out fine.   Next stop, and again, clothes shopping was on the list.

“But what do I need now?” Susan asked.

“I’m taking you dancing tomorrow night.   You could wear my stuff, but I want to get you something different.”

“Dancing?   But Dara, I don’t... and I’m still...”

“I’m going to teach you to dance, and what did I tell you about your period?”

“I won’t let it get in the way.   Okay, okay, it’s not as bad as I thought.”

“Exactly.   If you’re as careful as you are now, you’ll never have a problem with it.”

Dara picked out several outfits for Susan, and let her pick out one of her own.   Susan, who elected to be more daring than usual, found a black, fairly tight top and some long, tight, white designer jeans that were accentuated by black stitching.   Susan thought them daring because of the fit, and the zippered legs that really made the jeans snap to her shape.

“Nice choice.   Those are really getting to be in style again.   Let’s get you some footwear to go with it.”

A couple of minutes later, Susan could be found in the shoe department, and a young salesman was sliding long, shiny black leather boots onto Susan’s feet.

“Boots?” Susan whispered to Karen.   “I figured on sneakers...”

“Trust me,” Dara said.   “I have an outfit like this.   Or, I did, until my jeans wore out.”

Susan turned to catch the salesman’s eyes following her leg up to her crotch.   Embarassed, he turned red and looked away.   A sudden feeling of power came over Susan, and she smiled wickedly; the salesman quickly zippered the boots and excused himself momentarily.

“If I was a man, I might like this job too,” Dara whispered.   “Well, take a look at yourself.”

Susan suddenly understood why the boots worked so well here.   They matched her top, and sandwiched the light jeans, drawing yet more attention to the shape of Susan’s hips and legs.   Even Susan could feel that the effect was powerfully sexy and defiant.

“I see what you mean,” Susan said.   “The strange thing is, I like it!”

“Good.   You’re developing a taste for what looks right on you.”

Susan and Dara turned from the mirror to again catch the salesman, who was turning red again, both staring at them and listening.   The salesman’s excitement derived from being this close to the formation of a particularly seductive look–two incredible women scheming, it appeared, to make themselves even more attractive.

“We’ll take these,” Dara said.   The salesman, now at a total loss for words, removed the boots and boxed them.   “Thank you,” was all he managed to say.

Susan looked down at him, from her seated pose in the chair, as he handed her the box.   Suddenly, a very sexy voice came from her; “No... thank you”, she said, and unleashed a powerful smile.

On their way to the ladies’ dressing room, out of earshot of the footwear salesman, Dara couldn’t help herself.   “Very daring of you!   I’m impressed!”

“Just testing,” said Susan, smiling from ear to ear.   Just before entering the dressing room, both women turned around to steal a glance at the footwear department.   Again, the salesman was caught; he was huddling with his coworkers, and visibly pointing in the women’s direction.

“Alas, too immature,” Dara said.

“I know. Pity,” replied Susan, as the women disappeared into the dressing room.

“You know, of course, if you try that with some guy and he calls you on it...You might just meet your match.”

“I already have... but she wants me to be able to flirt,” Susan said, coyly.

“You could end up with your hands full.”

“Or something... else... full, if I’m lucky.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think I tought you that,” Dara said, and then giggled.   “Maybe you’re learning too much.”

Noise in the next booth indicated, to their surprise, that the dressing room wasn’t empty.   An older woman, apparently embarassed by the conversation she was hearing, bustled herself out of the dressing area.

“Oops,” Susan giggled.

Back outside the dressing room, and now in her own clothes, Dara showed Susan some of the outfits she had picked out.   “I know your size–Heck, I am your size, so you don’t have to try these on.   But I’ll show you something.   This outfit–“ Dara held up a polka-dotted dress which ended in a very short skirt–“comes in two forms.”   Dara walked over to one of the racks, and pulled out a similar outfit to demonstrate.   “This one is split–you notice it’s not really a ‘skirt’?”

“It has legs,” Susan observed.

“Sort of.   When you have it on, you can’t tell that it’s not a skirt, though.”   Dara held the dress up.   “See?”

Susan nodded.

“This way, no matter which way you twirl or move, nobody can see underneath.”

“I’ve noticed that before.”

“Right.   But I’ve always thought it a tease.   Heck, that’s what short skirts are about.   The tease.   It fluffs around, and you’ll catch people trying to get a glimpse of what you’ve got under there,” Dara explained.   “So this other style cheats, so to speak.   I don’t like it.   So I got the regular, skirted version for you.   Okay?”

“I suppose...”

“It’s not like anybody can see anything under here anyway–as you’ll see... there are black panties that go underneath it.”

“Okay,” Susan said.   “Go for it.”

“That’s my girl,” Dara answered.

Before checking out, Dara also picked up two pocketbooks for Susan, explaining that, of course, even the outfits she had with pockets–especially the jeans–generally didn’t intend for the wearer to actually use them.   Pockets in some skirts were okay, of course.   Susan understood and needed no further explanation.