By Katherine Day

Chapter Nineteen – Love Rekindled

Marcus awoke, the stench of sweat and sex in his nostrils. It was dark and as he lay on his back he felt a weight on him. He was momentarily puzzled as to where he was. The firm arm of Amy Dacosta pinned him down and he heard the woman’s steady breathing and felt her breath on his chest. He was in Amy’s bed and it felt heavenly and natural. It was where he was meant to be.

He glanced at the clock, its digital face reading “1:48.” They had been in bed nearly five hours, he realized. Their mutual passion for each other exploded and they entered into a night of intense love-making – not boy-girl love-making but girl-to-girl. Marcus ejaculated twice during the evening, but the juices flowed only when Amy praised his soft, smooth body and admired his femininity. She was strong and he loved how she commanded the love-making; both tried to ignore his penis. How much he wanted a vagina. He loved Amy’s juicy opening and to bury his mouth onto it, bringing its salty, but oh so sweet, nectar.

His stirring awoke Amy and she suggested they take a shower. They carried their love-making into the bathroom amid warm water, sweet soap, soft caresses and wet kisses.

“I wish you didn’t have that thing, Miranda,” Amy said as she soaped him down in the shower, playing with his penis. It was not large and he had only sparse bits of pubic hair but still it seemed to be a reminder that his femininity was not complete.

“Me either.”

“Darling, I was terribly jealous when I heard you had a date with Emery,” she said. “I’m so sorry. It was awful of me.”

Marcus didn’t answer and instead placed his mouth on one of her nipples; the water cascaded down his face has he mouthed the hard nub.

“Ohhhhhhhhh,” Amy moaned.

“You weren’t awful,” he said, having raised up from her breast as both stood in the shower, looking at each other. “I love you Amy.”

“I love you, my dearest Miranda.”

They kissed as the water continued to flow down their bodies.

When they had finished the shower, they dried each other off, slowly running towels along their bodies, relishing the tender caresses that accompanied the process. Within minutes, the two had returned to Amy’s bed, both nude.

*****
“It’s time to get up, Princess.” Marcus felt a gentle nudge on his shoulder and tried to focus with his sleep-encrusted eyes, realizing it was morning and Amy was at the bedside. Even the digital clock was fuzzy as he squinted to try to read it.

“It’s after eight o’clock . . . in the morning, my beauty,” Amy said.

“You’re up,” he said huskily.

“Yes, had my shower and now it’s your turn,” she said. “I almost woke you to join me in the shower this morning, but you looked so cute sleeping like that. Even your snoring is cute.”

“I don’t snore,” he protested.

“Don’t worry, it’s a dainty girly snore.” Amy leaned down to kiss his forehead. When she finished the kiss, she pulled him up out of bed.

His mouth tasted sour and he sensed his body odor wasn’t too pleasant. A night of love-making would do that to a person. As he stood up, still holding Amy’s hand, he moved to adjust the nightgown he was wearing; it was lacy, gauzy affair with thin straps over the shoulders. Truly feminine.

“I must look a sight,” he said.

“Not to me. You’re gorgeous,” she said, kissing him again, but being careful not to hug him and soil her fresh clothes against his body, sweaty and stinking from their sex adventures. Amy was wearing a beige Capri with a teal-colored sleeveless blouse and a high neck.

“Better dress a bit warm today, Miranda,” she told him as he moved into the bathroom to shower and clean up.

“Thanks, but I better get going right after my shower. I know you must be busy today,” Marcus said.

“Nonsense, it’s Saturday, and my washing can wait a day,” she said. “Let’s be girlfriends today, OK?”

“You really want me to stay?”

“More than anything in the world, darling.”

Amy was not much of a girly-girl and that was reflected in the soaps and cosmetics in her bathroom. He soaped down with yellowish bar of Dial to shower and soon was standing in the hot water singing in his soft, sweet voice, “It’s a Wonderful World.”

When he left the shower, feeling great, he sensed the smells of coffee, bacon and toast coming from the kitchen and realized he must hurry. He rummaged through the clothes that he had stored in Amy’s spare bedroom, finding a flowing, pleated dark skirt that ended just below the knees, a tan cami and a bright yellow cardigan sweater. Not taking time to fix his hair, he drew it back into a ponytail and tied it with a rubber band. He was not satisfied but felt it would do for the time being. He put on his fluffy pink slippers and padded into the kitchen, as if drawn in by the scent of breakfast.

“You’re adorable,” Amy said as he entered.

“Not,” he retorted.

“No, not not. You really look cute, even without your hair being fixed. So natural.”

He smiled. “Well, love is blind, they say.”

She laughed. “I hope you don’t mind a breakfast like my mom would serve on the farm. I know you girls like your smoothie junk and yogurt, but this is what you’re getting.”

“I guess you know me then.”

“Well, I felt we’d both be hungry after all the exercise we had last night.”

He sat down at the table. “I’m famished. Bring it on!”

*****
They had lingered over coffee, leaving the morning dishes in the sink, unwashed. Amy moved her chair closer to him, grabbed his hand and said, “Miranda, I had no choice when I terminated you. I’m so sorry.”

“I know. You said it was Hector’s orders, right?”

“I tried to talk him out of it, but he was adamant. Either I let you go or I’d face the consequences.”

“Like getting fired yourself?”

“I don’t think he’d have gone that far,” she muttered. “But he was pretty firm and determined.”

Marcus nodded his head agreeing that Amy had little choice in the matter.

“Yet, I felt I failed you, Miranda,” she continued. “And I quickly began to feel guilty. Damn, I became so miserable with myself and felt I couldn’t face you again. And I missed you so much.”

She began to cry and he moved over next to her and leaned down to hug and comfort her. She nestled her head into his chest and he held her tightly until she settled down.

“I never held it against you,” Marcus said, once her crying ceased.

“I don’t know why he was insistent on getting rid of you. I’d always given you glowing reports. You were effective with your clients, they all seemed to like you and certainly you fit in well in the office. Damn, I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a new worker progress as well as you did.”

Marcus said nothing for a moment, reflecting on how much he had grown to like his work with Opportunities, Inc., and particularly how he liked dealing with the families. It was particularly distressing to be laid off just a few days before his probation period ended.

“He never gave you a reason for firing me?”

“Only that you violated protocol by getting dressed up like a prostitute. He said it shamed the agency. But I argued you did it for a good reason to help out a child in trouble,” she said.

“It probably wasn’t the smartest thing I ever did,” Marcus agreed.

“It wasn’t, Miranda,” Amy said, continuing to use his feminine name.

“I didn’t want to involve the agency in any way, and I didn’t. No one ever really found out about it, except the police. How could I have shamed the agency?”

“That’s just it. It didn’t. And I don’t think he let you go because of your Miranda stuff, either.”

“Did he know about Miranda?” Marcus asked.

“Yes, I had told him several weeks earlier, since I did know it could affect your status in the future, but he was cool with it. He really was.”

Amy further explained that Hector Ramirez even went so far as to encourage Marcus to eventually live full-time as a woman, if he decided to go that far. “He told me there are lots of transgendered youth in our community and with a TG worker like you we could offer lots to those who are in foster care or are just running loose without families,” Amy related.

“Wow,” Marcus replied. At first, he had wondered whether Amy had betrayed his crossdressing, but as he considered it he realized that as supervisor she had probably done the proper thing. It only bothered him that Amy had revealed his secret without first consulting him, although on second thought he knew that Amy wouldn’t have done so if it would have caused him harm.

The two talked on, finally concluding that the whole excursion that took Marcus – dressed as a young prostitute – out to the Browning household in Madison Heights was the reason for him being terminated, largely because his excursion might lead to expose some sort of scandal.

“There’s something more going on here, Miranda,” Amy said.

“Yeah, like why do we have so many boys being referred to this agency who seem to be girlish, like Jefferson?”

“And why are they always sent to families like the Harrisons that are so perfect? Those families seem to have impeccable environments for the boys,” Amy said.

“Doesn’t Hector make all the assignments of kids to families?”

“Yes, he does, which seems strange to me, since it’s a job that a program manager should do.”

Marcus thought for a minute before speaking. “I’m just wondering. Ramirez seems to be living pretty high these days, that new Escalade and his new home on the North Shore. He doesn’t get paid that well, does he?”

“Not at all,” Amy agreed. “We’re a nonprofit and I’ve seen our financial reports. A director like Hector doesn’t get that much.”

“It makes you wonder if he’s getting a pay-off, doesn’t it?”

*****
Because Amy had obligations that day, Marcus left and returned to Heddy’s place that morning. Marcus busied himself cleaning up the room he was occupying, tidying up Heddy’s apartment and doing laundry.

Marcus wore shorts, a tank top and sandals as he toiled, singing along with Judy Garland and Sarah Vaughn as he played CDs. His reverie was shattered when his cell phone rang.

“Mr. Whiting?” it was a boy’s voice.

“Yes, this is him.”

“LaGrande Marquis. Remember me?”

“Of course, how could I forget you?” Marcus answered, ashamed that while he had not forgotten the troubled but talented teenager he had pushed the boy’s precarious situation out of his mind. He had been too busy with other matters, hadn’t he?

“Can I talk to you?” he asked tentatively.

“Yes, of course, you can.”

“Well,” the boy began. “Thanks to you, Mr. Whiting, I did get into the Performing Arts School and they accepted me into the jazz band, too. But you know, they’re some real dudes in that group. They can really jam. I’m in the lowest group.”

“You’re just a freshman, LaGrande. Give it time. Listen to those dudes and you’ll get there.” Marcus smiled, knowing in his heart that if the boy kept focused on music, rather than the streets, he’d likely succeed.

Marcus had heard that LaGrande’s case in juvenile court had been dismissed, thanks to the involvement of the ACLU, and that he had agreed to attend counseling for 90 days.

“Anyway, I met Jefferson and he told me how much he admired you, but that he was under orders not to talk to you, Mr. Whiting. Is it true you’ve been . . . ah . . . fired?”

“Yes, it’s true, though the word is I didn’t pass my probation, so I guess I technically was not fired,” Marcus clarified.

“Well, Jefferson trusts you and he wanted me to call you for him. OK?”

“Sure, but what’s his message?”

“He’s scared.”

When LaGrande finished his story, Marcus learned that Jefferson had been also been accosted in the boys’ room at the school by a pair of big guys and told to “keep his mouth shut or else.” When Jefferson asked what they were referring to, the toughs merely told him, “you know what.” He said he was also told not to mention the incident to anyone “or else.”

“But he told you to tell me, right?” Marcus asked when the boy finished.

“Yes, you’d know what to do, Mr. Whiting. They told him they’d scar his ‘pretty face’ if he snitched. He is pretty, almost like a girl, isn’t he?”

*****
Marcus immediately called Amy, and she responded angrily. “Those filthy, dirty sons of bitches,” she began, streaming off a series of expletives and ending, “those rich, damned Brownings think they can do anything they damn well please.”

“This is something big, Marcus,” she said, reverting to his male name for the first time that weekend.

He had received the call from LaGrande about three o’clock on Sunday, just as he was about to remove his laundry, mainly his delicates, to place in the dryer.

“I know, and Jefferson can’t return to that school, at least for now,” he said.

“Right, I’ll call Tatiana over at Hope Place to assure he stays protected in the agency on Monday.”

“He’ll miss school, I know. LaGrande told me he’s been put into the drama program at the school, working with the costuming and makeup girls. He loves it.”

“It’s too bad. His safety is more important.”

Heddy Jelacic returned to her apartment that evening glowing and gushing over the great time she had hiking in the woods, cooking over an outdoor fire and trying to stay warm while sleeping in tents.

“We had so much fun. I love the outdoors, Marcus,” she proclaimed.

He paused for a moment, not sure whether he should spoil Heddy’s warm and sweet reverie with the news about Jefferson Turner. Finally, he decided he should confide in her; after all, she had stuck her head out to urge continued investigation of the case, even getting grudging support from her sergeant who had to defy orders from above that he should close the case.

“I’ll see if I can interview Jefferson first thing Monday,” Heddy said when he had finished his story. “And, I think we should inform Emery, too. Even though he was ordered off the case, I think he’d be interested.”

“You think he wants to be involved? He was pretty adamant that he wanted nothing to do with it,” Marcus said.

Heddy smiled. “I think he has been doing a little snooping on the side, because I’m sure he cares.”

“Even though he was ordered off the case?”

“Yep. When he got so much pressure he was sure there’s politics involved. The Browning family was a heavy contributor to the DA’s campaign.”

“Hmmm, that’s interesting,” Marcus said.

*****
Marcus couldn’t stay away from Amy and on Sunday afternoon he returned to her apartment. The two enjoyed another night of high-spirited girl-to-girl lovemaking, and Marcus awoke on Monday morning relaxed and mellow. He had arisen and still in his flimsy nightgown made a hearty breakfast of eggs, bacon and toast for the two of them.

“You didn’t have to do that Miranda,” Amy said as she entered the kitchen, already dressed to go to work.

He was at the kitchen sink and she came from behind, grabbing him her hands reaching around and playing with his soft breasts. Her fingers tickled his nipples and they grew hard.

“You have the cutest little breasts, my darling,” she cooed into his ear.

It was true; his body was soft and fleshy and he had developed breasts much like those of a maturing twelve-year-old girl. He loved how her fingers massaged him, kneading him.

He turned and the two kissed; he tasted the mint from her recent tooth-brushing and hoped that the sour taste in his mouth didn’t turn her off. Their kisses became passionate and only stopped when they heard the toaster pop, meaning the toast was ready.

“Wish you didn’t have to go work, Amy,” he whispered.

“I know, but there’s lots to do today and I should get going,” she said.

“Let’s eat.”

*****
After his shower, Marcus busied himself in the bathroom, playing with his hair, trying to figure out what style in which to wear his long hair. The light brown strands had grown to hang several inches below his neckline and he brushed them vigorously. Fortunately, his hair was thick and lay down easily. He had watched Heddy work with her hair, often without great success, largely because her blonde locks were thin and tended to grow frizzy and not stay in place.

When he let his hair flow unrestrained, it seemed to stay in place; he knew a light spray of conditioner would all he’d need. He smiled at his reflection in the mirror; he was naturally feminine.

Realizing that he promised Amy he’d spend the morning cleaning the apartment, scrubbing the kitchen and bathroom floors and scouring the sinks, he decided to tie his hair into a ponytail. He donned a light application of light pink lipstick and a bit of eyeliner and headed for the bedroom. For his household chores, he put on a pair of tight shorts and tee shirt. A glance in the mirror told him he was all girl.

The work exhausted him and by mid-morning he took a break to make himself a glass of iced tea. As he was heating the water for the tea, he mused how comfortable he was as a woman. Amy had treated him as if he was a girlfriend and she took the commanding lead role, both in their love-making and in their daily activities. That morning, though he didn’t realize it at the time, changed his life forever. From that moment on, he knew he was a woman and must live as one from now on.

*****
Emery Harrington had not given up on his quest to take Marcus, as Miranda, out, either to a movie or dinner or even a drink, but Marcus continued to turn him down, conjuring up a plethora of excuses some of which defied logic. Yet, Emery took it all in stride, recognizing that Marcus was undergoing significant strain. The young man certainly must be at the crossroads of his life, he reasoned.

Emery was curious about this strange young man, who looked and acted more like a woman, a very lovely and dainty woman. He had returned to the internet in his few moments of free time, repeatedly drawn to the pretty, feminine transgendered creatures who were all over the social media sites. Miranda Whiting certainly could have won any beauty contest she might have entered as he examined the photographs of scores of tender, soft, lithe boys and young men. Emery’s search took him to a few scholarly and lengthy descriptions of what he quickly learned what is meant to be “transgender.” He was surprised that many drag queens and street prostitutes in drag were not considered transgendered, even though they might be parading around in overly garish feminine attire and makeup.

Emery had met with Marcus as a male social worker and had enjoyed the sight of Miranda who always looked fresh, lovely, dainty and truly feminine. He liked both Marcus and Miranda; both exhibited intelligence and warm demeanors. He was pleased that Miranda always dressed modestly; no way could she be mistaken for a drag queen or prostitute, except of course on the two nights in which she went on the streets, presumably to set up a trap for the gang who had been using Jefferson Turner.

It had been a foolish endeavor for her to take; yet, Emery couldn’t help but admire Miranda’s courage. She was weak as a kitten, as the saying goes, and obviously couldn’t fight her way out of a tight spot. Nonetheless, she exposed herself to harm, and even now was hiding out in fear of being attacked and perhaps killed. It was because of Miranda’s brave adventures that the epidemic of teen trafficking for sex had been exposed. And by such a lovely girl, too!

Emery smiled, realizing that in his thoughts Marcus had become Miranda. Though he had been warned by the District Attorney – his boss – to leave the case alone, Emery couldn’t get the case out of his mind. He knew both Jefferson Turner and Miranda Whiting were the keys to cracking the case.

“It’s Sunday and I’m on my own time,” Emery thought. “Besides it’s nobody’s business who I see in my personal life.”

Hoping that Miranda’s cell phone was still active, Emery called the number and was surprised to hear her answer in a voice that was vaguely feminine.

“Hello,” she answered, using a soft, tentative voice.

“Miranda . . . ah . . . or should I say Marcus. This is Emery Harrington,” he said.

The reply was soft gasp, followed by a question? “Are you asking for Miranda? Or Marcus?”

Emery detected a more feminine lilt to the voice.

“Miranda, how are you?” he answered.

“Hiding out, as you know. What do you want?” Marcus’s voice took on a stern tone.

“If you’re free today, I thought we could go out for a drink and maybe we could have dinner somewhere. How would you like that?”

“Can’t,” was the instant reply.

Then he heard a voice in the background ask who she was talking to. He figured she must have covered the mouthpiece to talk with the other person. There was a pause with Emery several times asking, “Miranda are you still there?” and no getting a reply. It was obvious the two were still connected and that there was some sort of discussion going on in the background.

Eventually, Marcus returned to the phone. “Sorry about that. Had to clear my schedule,” his voice was still a bit stern.

“No problem,” he said. “There’s an Italian place, ‘Mariano’s,’ on Cedar, near the lake. I can be there at five o’clock. That OK?”

“I know the place. Good choice,” Marcus replied. He had never been there but had heard they offered an especially tasty lasagna.

“Come as Miranda, OK?”

“What else?”

*****
Marcus was surprised that Amy agreed to him meeting Emery dressed as Miranda. In fact, Amy had to talk him into going out on the dinner date. Marcus had protested, asking her, “Didn’t you break up with me because I might accept a date from Emery?”

“Yes, my darling,” she said, kissing Marcus’s cheek. “I was wrong and hateful. I know I can trust you, dear.”

“I don’t want to lose you again, Amy. Please, I shouldn’t meet him.”

“I have no doubts about our love for each other. You’re so precious to me, dearest ‘Randa.”

“I love you, Amy. You want me to go, really?

“Please go. Perhaps you can talk about the case with him. I think he’d like to do more, but he’s on a gag order,” Amy said.

That afternoon, before Marcus set out to prepare for his date with Emery, the two found themselves back in Amy’s bed. Both were exhausted from their afternoon athletics and had fallen asleep. Marcus awoke bleary-eyed and squinted at the old-fashioned alarm clock that Amy stubbornly kept at her bedside. Through the wetness in his eyes it appeared that the hands of the clock pointed to four-twenty.

Within thirty minutes, Marcus had showered, dried himself off and with the help of Amy tied his hair into a high ponytail and put on light makeup. He put on a pair of jeans that framed his cute feminine ass, sandals exposing his pink-painted toenails, a camisole and a pink Detroit Tigers sweatshirt. He donned a baseball cap, tucking the ponytail through the gap in the back.

“Wait,” Amy said when they had finished and Marcus was anxious to leave to meet Emery.

“But I’ll be late,” he protested.

“This will just take a minute, but it’s important.”

“OK, but what?”

“I love you dear, but I love you as Miranda. I don’t think Marcus exists anymore. You are Miranda and I think you should begin living fulltime as Miranda.”

“You do?” Marcus was puzzled. Living fulltime as a woman? That had been a lingering desire. Now, Amy said it should become a reality.

“Yes, dear. From now on you’re Miranda and only Miranda.”

He thought for a moment and then smiled. He kissed Amy.

“Better go now, dear, or you’ll be late,” Amy said

Marcus kissed his friend again and was out the door, dressed casually and, it was to be hoped, not at all sexy. He didn’t want to arouse Emery’s active libido. But from now on, he would be Miranda.