Chapter Two: Complications
“I have to tell you something about Beatrice,” Karen said as she slipped into Angela’s Ford Focus, its side panels coated with the residues of salt that had been thrown down on the roadways during the winter. “She’s very religious, Angela, so we gotta watch our language.”

“Great,” Angela said sarcastically.

“But she’s got a good heart, and I’m trying to get her to open up a bit.”

“You mean we can’t tell her about our love-making,” Angela said, her eyes growing impish.

“You better not, I’m having trouble getting her to accept Karen, and don’t be surprised if she calls me Kenny every so often.”

Angela, who was wearing jeans and a sweat shirt under an insulated hooded coat along with men’s work boots, was looking less and less feminine, Karen noticed. Even her voice seemed to take on a harsher, masculine timbre.

“Why are you so eager to get her involved with us, then, Karen?”

“Well, she still thinks I’m sinning against God, and I’m trying to show her that her God also likes to serve people, like we do by going to Sunset Days.”

“Dammit, Karen, you’re always trying to save everybody.”

Angela had driven about a half mile, before stopping in front of a ranch style house, one of many sitting side-by-side in a subdivision developed perhaps 50 years before. Mature trees, their limbs standing barren and bleak in the grey cold of the day, lined the streets. She gave the horn a tap, emitting a short blast.

Patty Murray who if anything had grown more Irish-looking since Karen saw her last summer emerged from the neat ranch home. She was wearing slacks and a beige-colored heavy coat, with a wool scarf about her head. As she slid into the back seat, Angela turned to look back at the new arrival.

“Hey Patty, glad you could make it,” she said.

“Hi Angela and you too, Karen. I’m glad Angela told me you’re one of us now ‘cause I wouldn’t have known you.”

“Yes, I’m one of you now; at least I’m on the way.”

“I can’t say I was too surprised, Karen,” Patty said, and Karen looked back to see the girl’s round, freckled, pug-nosed face. As usual, her eyes shown in a bright blue, with strands of her light brown hair poking out of from under the scarf.

Angela started the car and said, “We’re going to pickup one more, Patty. One of Karen’s co-workers and we need to warn you that she’s a religious nut, so behave.”

Patty giggled. She loved to laugh, Karen recalled. “I always behave, and I go to mass every Sunday, too.”

“Beatrice is not religious like you, Patty,” Karen said. “She’s one of these Bible-thumpers.”

“Oh my God, one of those. How did you get mixed up with her Karen?” Patty asked.

Following Karen’s directions, Angela drove into a subdivision of over-built, ersatz-designed homes on large lots. She directed them to stop in front a multi-gabled monster of a home, complete with a widow’s walk turret and a huge Cadillac Escalade in the driveway. Even before Angela could honk the horn, the front door of the home opened and Beatrice ran out. She wore a dress under the coat she wore; it had a fur-lined hood attached. Beatrice said little on the way to the nursing home, acknowledging the introductions with tentative “Hi’s.”

*****
“My darling, how happy it makes me to see you, and looking so pretty, too,” Karen’s special friend, Elsa Oppenheimer, said.

“I was hoping you’d recognize me, Elsa,” Karen said.

When she had last visited the nursing home it had been in summer. At that time, she was still in her boy mode, although many of the patients there often called her “miss.”

“I was hoping you’d understand, Elsa that I am transitioning into womanhood. I’ve always felt something was wrong with me as a boy,” Karen said as she sat down next to the old woman. Elsa was now in a wheel chair most of the time, and it saddened Karen to see her so confined. Even though Elsa was in her early 90s, and had shrunken into a tiny gnome of a woman, she had always had been fairly agile.

“Darling, give Elsa a hug,” the old woman said, opening her arms.

The two hugged, their cheeks meeting and Elsa showing surprising strength in grasping Karen.

“Look, honey,” Elsa said. “I may be old but that doesn’t mean I don’t keep up with things. I always thought you had a female soul. You were always so warm and sensitive. I thought you were always very pretty, and now I can see how absolutely beautiful you are.”

“I’m so happy you understand, Elsa. I so hoped you would. You’ve always been one of my favorite friends.”

“You’re making an old woman cry,” Elsa said, grabbing a tissue and wiping her eye.

Karen wheeled Elsa out to the recreation area and found a vacant table; Karen found the Scrabble game in the cupboards that stood at one end of the room, flanking a sink and a coffeemaker. As they set up the board, Karen checked to see if all the tiles were still in the set, since in such communal settings tiles often did get lost as various players handled the game. They were all there, Karen found after checking it out. Soon, the pair became deeply engaged in their game, and Karen found herself rusty from several months of not playing the game. As usual, Elsa won. Nothing seemed to have dimmed the old woman’s brainpower, Karen realized, even though her recent bout with hip problems may have doomed her to the wheelchair.

“I’ll never beat you,” Karen cried out as the game ended.

So intense had been the competition that Karen hadn’t noticed several others had gathered around the two of them as they played the game. There was applause, and she heard an older male voice yell: “Way to go Elsa!”

Karen looked up to see a wizened older African-American man, with a full head of gray hair and a neat beard, standing next to Beatrice and one of the nursing assistants.

“Oh, Karen,” Elsa said. “Let me introduce Chester here. He also plays Scrabble with me. Keeps both of our minds sharp.”

“And she beats me, too, young lady,” Chester said, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“Hi,” Beatrice said.

“Oh, let me introduce my friend, Beatrice, who joined us today for the visit,” Karen said.

“Chester why don’t you and your new friend sit down at our table?” the old woman suggested. Turning to Karen, she said, “I think there are some juice cartons in the cooler and popcorn, too.”

Karen nodded. She knew where the refreshments were, and went to get them. The three others were engaged in eager conversation when she returned.

“We’re talking about you, Karen,” Elsa explained.

“Should my ears have been burning?”

“Not really, dear, it was all good,” Elsa said, smiling. “I just was explaining a few things to Beatrice here. I think she understands your situation a bit better now.”

Karen looked at Beatrice, whose expression was hard to read. She said nothing, and it took Chester to break the silence.

“I like your girlfriend, Karen,” he said, referring obviously to Beatrice. “I introduced her to my grandson, Ellis, and I think they hit it off.”

Chester winked at her, and then reached over to pat Beatrice’s hand. Karen was astounded: she couldn’t imagine the narrow-minded Beatrice wanting to have anything to do with an African-American young man.

“I’ll visit you again, Chester,” Beatrice said. “I promise.”

“OK, young lady, I’ll hold you to that.”

*****
“I had fun today,” Beatrice said, as the four girls crowded into Angela’s Focus.

“I thought you would,” Karen said. “That’s why I suggested it. Those old people can be truly lots of fun if you give them a chance.”

“And that Chester, he’s such a clown,” Beatrice said. “So not everyone in there is Jewish then?”

“No, although it’s run by the Jewish Community Group,” Angela explained.

“Oh, I understand. . . ah . . . ah . . . not that it makes any difference,” Beatrice said.

Karen realized the girl had suddenly wished to hide any prejudice she might have shown in her remarks about the Jewish nature of the nursing facility, and she found herself wondering if the visit — along with Elsa’s comments — had convinced Beatrice that Karen’s sexual transition was not necessarily a blasphemy.

Patty intervened: “Say, Beatrice. Who was that handsome young man who also was visiting Chester? You two seemed to be hitting it off well.”

“Yes, you did,” Karen said, remembering how Beatrice had joined in laughter with the young African-American man she saw with Chester.

Beatrice reddened noticeably, Karen saw as she turned back to look at her. “Oh,” the girl said, faking nonchalance, “That was his grandson, Ellis.”

“He’s cute. Did you give him your phone number, Beatrice?” Angela teased, as she drove.

“No,” she answered, as if doing so would have been a grave sin.

Too bad, Karen mused. It appeared that Beatrice had some strict limits as to how wide open her attitudes might become. Miscegenation was out of the question for her, at least for now. Yet, it was obvious that Beatrice had opened her eyes at least for a day.

*****
That night, Karen and Angela went on their date: it consisted of going to the multiplex to watch “Lincoln,” followed by a stop at the pizza joint. In the movie, the two were able to find one of the love seats that the theater had scattered throughout the auditorium, and comfortably settle into it.

Angela took the role of a gentleman, assisting Karen with her coat, and holding arm as Karen sat down. They were in their seats just a few minutes when Karen felt Angela’s arm drape her thin shoulders and she gratefully settled in next to Angela. The gesture brought back memories of their love sessions months earlier, which began long before Karen’s life as a girl. Even then, when she was Kenny, Angela had treated her as the female in the date, as the submissive person who needed protection. Karen smelled the clean, soapy scent of her mate, recognizing that Angela never wore perfume and the realization thrilled her.

As the light dimmed in the theater for the start of the interminable previews, Karen reached over and grabbed Angela’s free hand, feeling its familiar strength and callousness. Instinctively, Angela covered Karen’s more dainty hand, using her fingers to caress the hand. Karen felt her male appendage harden as she surrendered herself to her strong, muscular friend.

“I’ve missed holding you, dear, dear Karen,” Angela whispered, her voice barely audible in competition with the noisy action being portrayed in the movie trailer that preceded the showing of the feature film.

“I know, this feels so good, Angela.”

“I just love how dainty you are.”

Karen let out a quiet giggle. She loved how weak and dependent she felt just then.

“You’re so cute,” Angela continued.

Their reveries were interrupted with a hissing “Shhhhhhhhhh.” A man in the row behind them whispered: “You two love birds should shut up. The movie’s about to begin.”

“Just a couple of lesbians, dear,” they heard a woman’s voice — obviously the man’s seat mate — say derisively.

“Sorry, sir,” Karen responded, and Angela removed her arm from Karen’s shoulders. The two held hands throughout the movie, and the tension of the movie soon drew their sole attention as President Lincoln worked to pass the Emancipation Proclamation while satisfying his troubled wife, Mary Todd.

“I wished my parents weren’t home,” Angela said later as they left the pizza place. “I’d love to be together with you Karen.”

Karen smiled, and reached over to pat the other girl’s thigh. Angela pulled the car onto the highway from the pizza joint’s parking lot, turning left, heading out into the countryside.

“Where you going, Angela?” Karen asked.

“I know a spot where we won’t get bothered,” the other girl said, patting Karen’s hand with her free hand.

The air was brisk, and while the highway itself was free of snow and ice, there were four- and five-foot piles of snow along the shoulders, where it had been piled by the plows. Periodically, rural mailboxes popped up out of the drifts. The car was quickly warming up as they drove along at a leisurely pace, and Karen began to feel warm and content; she loved being with Angela, even though in their earlier relationship she had felt that often the girl was too controlling.

Her thoughts soon turned to Mark Hamilton, and she began to feel guilty, realizing she was looking forward to the caresses and kisses that might be coming within a few minutes from Angela. She hated herself for feeling pleased by the kisses the two had shared earlier in the evening at the movie house. Shouldn’t she be saving herself for her beloved Mark?

Mark, Mark, her darling Mark. How much she loved caressing his smooth, muscular body, his hard, sinewy arms and his firm, but surprisingly slender thighs. How gentle the boy was as he massaged Karen’s own mushy arms and thighs and kneaded her soft tummy. She couldn’t betray him, she realized.

Just then, she felt the car slow down, almost to a stop, and she watched as Angela steered the car between two huge drifts into a narrow roadway encrusted with snow and lined with drifts from a plow. She could see only snowmobile tracks left on the snow; no auto tracks. Angela removed her hand from Karen’s and put both hands on the wheel as she navigated the roadway, occasionally swerving as they climbed or descended from the swales formed by the rugged forested countryside.

Eventually, they came to a clearing where the plow had created a turn-around. The headlights pickup a small, frame cabin tucked in among the trees. There were no footprints in the snow, indicating the cabin was not occupied during the winter. Angela pulled the car to a stop, put it in neutral and turned off the headlights, letting the motor to continue to run.

“We’ll be left alone here, Karen. This is my uncle’s hunting shack, and I don’t think anyone’ll bother us back here,” she said.

“Ok,” Karen said; her voice was soft, tentative. She wanted to tell Angela to take her home; she felt she was wronging Mark, but she feared for the other girl’s reaction. She had seen Angela’s temper at its worst, and she knew she couldn’t protect herself against Angela once she grew angry.

“Damn these bucket seats,” Angela said, trying lean across the center console to hug Karen.

“I know.”

“Let’s climb into the back, Karen. We’ll be more comfy there and we can take our coats off now, since the car has warmed up.”

Feeling she had no option, Karen did as Angela said; leaving her coat in the front seat and stepping out onto the snow, and into the back seat. She felt the momentary chill of the below zero winds and was astounded by how bright the woods seemed; there was a full moon and the beams painted spindly shadows from the trees upon the brilliant whiteness of the snow. She could clearly see Angela, already in the backseat, having removed her blouse; she sat there in only her bra on, her muscular, almost masculine body, clearly visible in the moonlight reflecting off the snow.

“Hurry up, Karen. Close the door and get it or you’ll freeze us to death,” she commanded.

Karen obeyed and sat down, leaving a few inches between the two.

“Now take off that sweater and move closer, dear,” Angela said.

Karen took the sweater off, lifting it over her head, revealing a silky camisole over her bra and exposing her narrow shoulders and lovely arms.

“Oh my God,” Angela said. “You’re everything I ever wanted, Karen.”

Karen felt herself being pulled by the other girl into her arms; suddenly firm hands dug into the softness of her upper arms, and Karen responded by grabbing the other girl around her firm shoulders. They hugged that way, with Angela’s face nestled into the neck of Karen, kissing the neck area. It was so stimulating and Karen felt her tiny penis growing hard.

Soon, they were kissing, their lips pressed firmly together and growing moist as their mouths pushed together moving together. Their tongues met and played together and their passions grew. Karen felt consumed with desire for the restraining hold by her friend, whose passion seemed to know no bounds.

Angela began screaming, accompanied by heavy panting, and Karen feared the noise might alert neighbors; but of course there were no homes within hundreds of yards. Angela guided Karen’s hand into her pants and under her panties, and her fingers found the hairy, wetness of her opening, soon entering as Angela’s screams and squeals continued. Suddenly, Karen felt her hand grow moist as Angela seemed to calm down and she soon moved into an exhausted breathing.

“Darling,” Angela said, breathlessly. “That was so marvelous, my dear.”

“I know,” Karen answered, but her words sounded empty to herself. For some reason, the whole experience, while stimulating, seemed wrong. Her small male appendage, which had grown hard and even into painfulness, had softened. Something within her made it seem so unsatisfying.

The two lay together; their love-making had found them scrunched awkwardly across the seat, Angela on the bottom, with Karen more precariously balanced atop her. They continued their embrace, saying nothing. With the motor of the Focus still running, the heater continued to do its work and the interior of the car felt almost hothouse warm. From a slightly lowered window the passenger door, there was a draft of cold air that wafted over Karen’s bare shoulders. The window had been opened up a crack to assure the two would not get overcome by carbon monoxide if a faulty exhaust system existed.

Karen caressed her friend indifferently, finding a desire to be released and to exit their love-making, but Angela continued to hold her tightly, occasionally kissing her and brushing her hair affectionately.

“Don’t you think we should go, Angela?” Karen asked.

“Darling, no, please, let’s do it again. Kiss me hard, dear,” Angela said, her hold on Karen growing more firm.

“Again?” Karen said incredulously, surprised that the girl wasn’t exhausted.

Suddenly Angela’s kisses grew hard and moist, and Karen found herself too weak to resist. She responded to the kisses and was surprised to feel her penis grow hard again. Knowing Angela would want it, Karen moved herself off the girl and into a kneeling position, squeezing into the narrow space behind the front seat. Greedily, she pulled Angela’s pants and panties down from to the girl’s knees and mounted her face onto Angela’s crotch area, her lips finding the bushy “v” and moist muskiness.

The pants restricted Angela’s thighs, keeping them together, making it impossible for Karen’s tongue to find the opening. Angela’s panting grew louder and more intense.

“Get off for a second, honey, and pull my pants off completely, dear,” Angela pleaded breathlessly.

Karen did as commanded, and Angela’s legs opened wide and she felt her head being propelled into the crotch between the muscular, smooth thighs of her friend. Karen eagerly placed her lips onto the lips of Angela’s vagina, already tasting the sour moisture from the girl’s earlier secretions. Almost without thinking, she thrust her tongue into the hole and let it play around, as the two girls rocked together in rhythm.

She heard a louder squeal and scream from Angela and suddenly more creamy liquid began to flow into Karen’s mouth and onto her face, which was still tightly squeezed onto the girl’s vagina. At the same instant, Karen felt her own ejaculation occur and she felt a warm wetness on her own thighs. Together, the two lovers seemed to relax, and Karen felt her friend open her legs to release her.

Karen climbed back onto her friend, and the two lay together in an embrace, kissing gently. Karen felt genuinely exhausted, and suddenly felt a need to be released. She felt a desire to clean herself up and put her clothes back on.

“Ready for more?” Angela said after a few minutes.

“Not really, I’m beat,” Karen said.

“You’re so hot a lover, Karen, even better than that bitch Doreen,” Angela said, referring to her lesbian friend with whom she had become estranged.

“Really, Angela? I think we should go.”

“No I need more, Karen. Please.”

“But I don’t feel I could again.”

Angela laughed. “That’s right. You’re still got your cock. And that thing is usually only good once a night. Just wait ‘til you get that cut off and you get a vagina, then you’ll get orgasms just like me.”

“That’s what I heard,” Karen said. “But I am tired, and it is getting late, Angela.”

“Oh darling,” Angela said, drawing Karen tightly against her. “I guess we should go. You’re a great girl at making love. And I can’t wait ‘til you’re all girl. You’ll be the hottest thing around.”

“I can’t wait either,” Karen said.

*****
Was the hot and satisfying evening in the backseat of Angela’s Ford Focus the renewal of a longer-term love affair with the girl? The prospect bothered Karen that night as she cuddled under the quilted, warming bed covers. Since her mother kept the apartment thermostat set at a cool 68 degrees during the winter heating season, Karen had learned to give up wearing one of her light, thin-strapped nighties and instead wore the two-piece “jammies,” as she liked to call them. She also wore bed socks.

“I’m such a cold bunny,” she explained to her brother, Sonny.

“If you were a bunny, the cold wouldn’t bother you, girl. Look how the bunnies romp in the snow now,” he brother argued back.

“Quit trying to be so macho,” she argued back at him.

“And you’re such a girl,” the boy said.

She had grown to love her younger brother, who had become wise beyond his age of 14. At first he had viewed Karen’s transition into a fulltime girl as a shame and blot, but he soon appreciated how much his older sibling had grown to like and love him. Raised by a single mother, the younger boy had often relied upon Karen (even in her days as a boy) for support and understanding.

In truth, his earlier reluctance to accept Karen for whom she was, Sonny had been more worried about teasing from his friends and classmates, and mainly about navigating the macho world of football that had become an obsession for the boy. Sonny was already — though only a freshman in high school — being looked upon as the future quarterback for the next season. He was truly a talented athlete; besides he constantly got top grades in his school work. Karen knew that the boy, if he kept up with his athletic and scholastic growth, would be a likely target for an athletic scholarship at one of the major universities.

“You have a date tonight, sis?” Sonny asked, as Karen entered the apartment after Angela had dropped her off.

“Huh,” Karen said, shocked to see her brother in the living room watching a horror movie on television. He usually could be found in his bedroom on his computer, either looking at football statistics, goofing around on Facebook or engaged in some other silly online business.

Still flushed from her steamy evening with Angela, Karen was taken aback at seeing him, and she worried that her disheveled appearance (perhaps even messed up lipstick) would betray the physical exercise of the love-making.

“No, I was with Angela,” she said.

“Oh, it’s just that you look so . . . oh . . . never mind,” Sonny said.

Karen knew he had apparently been shocked at seeing how she looked, but quickly sensed he had realized that it would raise too many issues if he pursued his questioning any further. She hurried into her bedroom, grateful for her brother’s sensitivity, something that he had only recently seemed to have acquired. She smiled as she thought about Sonny, wondering if the fact that he had recently had his first date and seemed to be excited about the girl, a cute, cuddly thing named, ironically, Karen.

“Where’s mom?” she asked Sonny when she emerged from her bedroom, having cleaned herself up and gotten herself readied for bed. She wore her light blue jammies with pinkish bunnies dancing across the fabric. She draped herself in a beige robe and wore fluffy pink slippers.

“Oh, she’s still not home from her date,” he said, his voice taking on a rather mean tone.

Karen was pleased her mother was dating again; as far as she could remember, their mother had not been with another man since their father fled the scene. Sonny, however, had a different view, and had even expressed to Karen that “mom’s awfully old to be catting around like that.”

“Oh, Sonny. Don’t be too hard on mom? She deserves a little fun, doesn’t she?”

“But, Karen . . . I can’t picture our mom with a man . . . ah . . . you know . . . doing all that sort of stuff . . . you know . . . like kissing and all.”

“Why not, Sonny?”

“Because she’s my mom . . . ah . . . our mom.”

“Honey, she’s also a woman,” Karen said, sitting on the sofa and hugging her little brother tightly.

“I know, Karen,” the boy said, nestling his head onto Karen’s shoulders.

The two sat together in each other’s arms, both with their eyes on the horror film unfolding on the smallish television screen, but probably not seeing the outlandish events of the movie. What was going on in the movie seemed remote to Karen, whose mind reflected back to her time in the car with Angela. She was troubled, she knew, by the events, worried that it was a betrayal of her love for Mark and also that she may again be put under the spell of the controlling, demanding Angela. The girl required so much attention, Karen knew.

It was obvious that her brother, Sonny, may have been thinking, too, about how their mother, their chubby, warm mother, may be wrapped in the clutches of her relatively new boyfriend, Michael Kelly, a tall, slender man with a pink complexion and unruly blonde hair.

Both were shocked out of their reveries when Cecelia Hansson opened the door, entering their room, shaking snow from her fur-lined parka.

“Oh hi, mom,” Sonny said, breaking away from Karen’s clutches.

“Hi, mom,” Karen echoed. She too moved into a more erect position.

Their mother greeting them with a cheery “hi,” and as she removed her coat commented:

“It’s nice to see my children have become so cozy together.”

“We were just watching a movie, mom,” Sonny said.

“How was your date, mom?” Karen asked.

“Fine,” she said.

“Is that all?” Sonny probed.

“What else is there to tell?” Cecelia Hansson, smiled as she answered.

Karen looked at her mother, and for the first time in a long time, she saw a bit of serenity and pleasure in her demeanor. It was apparent that their mother’s date had been much better than “fine.”

*****
Even with all the bed clothes covering her, Karen shivered as she tried to get to sleep, and her moments in the steamy car with Angela came back to her, haunting her with the reality of the frantic desires she experienced, along with a contrition that bothered her immensely. Yes, indeed, she realized, she was cheating on her budding love-affair with Mark Hamilton. Didn’t she want him more than anything? Hadn’t she been pining to feel herself in his arms again and again? Hadn’t the marvelous Christmas Eve they spent together not meant anything to her and she could dirty that memory by her lesbian love-making with Angela?

She knew the answers to those questions; yet, she knew she might continue to see Angela, her friend and one of the first people to acknowledge the girl who was growing out of that sissified boy she had once been. She cried silently, burying her face into her pillow, smelling the sweet scent of the light perfume called “Beautiful” that she put on each night as she went to bed. It was always just the tiniest dab, behind each ear, but it provided a lovely smell that permeated her room.

Finally, she was asleep into an evening of chaotic dreams, even one of Mark and Angela entangled in a wrestling match while she tried to separate them, jealously worried that the two would fall in love with each other, leaving her without either of them. Tugging at her in the dream were two people, Rami, her Indian transgendered roommate in college, and Aaron, the young man who wanted to date her. It was a nightmare that never seemed to end, and it didn’t, since the two continued to wrestle while Rami and Aaron tried unsuccessfully to pull her away. And all Karen did in the dream was to cry . . . . and . . . cry . . . and . . . cry.