[- Soaring -]

My routine barked at me in the middle of my remembering how amazing last night was with Sara and I swung my legs over the side of my bed to get this day moving. I wished she was still here, and felt a pang of disappointment I wouldn’t be able to tell her how amazing she’d been. Maybe she’d want to meet again tonight? That's if I didn't screw something up...

I couldn’t help but notice light coming from the under the door to my room, but remembered Sara had led the way straight to my room last night so of course they’d still be on. I’d gotten a flash of hope she was still here, but I’d been in a hurry to do as she’d suggested with getting the bed ready and myself undressed that I had closed my bedroom door so as to…

What is that smell?

I stood, flipped the lamp on next to my bed, and grabbed a pair of bike shorts from my dresser and a tank-top. What I smelled was sweet and cake-like and I was positive I just heard something metal being placed in my kitchen sink. Was Sara still here? I felt suddenly sparked at the prospect of getting to see her after last night!

“Hey…,” I said softly so as not to startle the woman standing at the kitchen island with her back to me.

She was wearing my button down shirt from work yesterday and turned to face me with a big smile, “Hey yourself…”

“You make us breakfast?”

“I attempted, but I’m not sure the YouTube video on how to make pancakes from scratch was much help. I burned a few, but there are six that don’t look so bad in the oven,” she said prancing over to me to get her arms around me.

There was a quick kiss and that smile of hers made me feel like she was genuinely happy to see me. I couldn’t help but think I felt the same way right now.

“I thought you’d left,” I whispered.

“I haven’t slinked out of some guys place in a very long time,” she said confidently, maybe blushing a little. “I… I really enjoyed last night and wanted to see you I guess.”

I hugged her a little tighter, saying, “I’m really glad you’re still here.”

We ate our pancakes while standing at the kitchen island and what could have been an awkward conversation turned out to be very enlightening. I’d told her again, as I had last night, that I was expecting the way things eventually played out to be very different. She told me she appreciated that I hadn’t asked prior to last night the ‘genitalia’ question, because that wasn’t anyone’s business but hers.

“How long have you, I mean… You know…”

“It’s been a little over three years. The surgery is called ‘penile inversion vaginoplasty’, which basically means my wrong genitalia were used to help construct my vagina. I had a second touch-up surgery to correct an issue – not uncommon, but I won’t bore you with any of those details. Then because I was still struggling with some of my gender dysphoria regarding the appearance of my vagina I had a procedure to refine my labia and clitoral hood. Some might argue I was being vane, but vanity had nothing to do with it and I’m very happy now with all I had to go through to get to where I am today. None of that recovery was easy let me tell you,” she finished with a little chuckle.

Everything she’d said sounded medical in nature, was certainly interesting, and maybe a little more than I necessarily wanted to know. What was most fascinating to me about being with her last night and us engaging in sex was it all felt exactly as it was supposed to feel – at least for me. She moved and sounded like any woman I’d ever been with, got lost in her own pleasures and desires, and unless she was faking all of that it seemed like she enjoyed it as much as I had.

“Too much information?” she asked when I hadn’t immediately said anything.

“No, I’m… I very much enjoyed… You know, like all of,” I tried saying but she hugged me and kissed me to shut me up thankfully.

When we parted she said, “Me too… In case you couldn’t tell.”

I couldn’t help but remember how she’d taken my hand and guided it between her legs last night. The confusion of the unknown I felt in the moment I touched the slickness of her vagina and how in that moment I’d been turned me on beyond words. I was relieved also, but not surprised with being turned on regardless of what my hand might have encountered.

Her body had stiffened at my initial touch, her hand there to guide me for a few moments told me it wasn’t because she was uncomfortable, but rather she was excited by my touch. I had made a move to go down on her, but she’d stopped me and wiggled herself under me in such a way that it was obvious she wanted one thing and only one thing, and it had nothing to do with my mouth or tongue being where my hand had just been.

There was a request to prop her hips up with a pillow, which in hindsight helped keep me patient and from rushing anything. Then I was kneeling between her spread legs, poised, and anxious to begin. She asked me to give over control of trying to guide myself into her because she knew best how to do that comfortably this first time. I think that helped control the pace of entry so she could get used to me being inside of her. It was a totally reasonable request and I would have given her anything she’d asked for in those moments before being able to be fully inside of her.

She kept a hand lightly on my stomach as a bumper, a spacer, so I wouldn’t get over zealous about how far I entered her. Her other hand was on my hip to help encourage me to slide into her at a pace that was comfortable. Nothing happened quickly and I was very in tune with her needs, her wants, and followed her lead.

When I was inside her there were moments we both couldn’t help but lose control and we each had colored outside the lines last night. Our bodies made all the right moves, gyrations of greedy hips geared toward not only our own pleasures but also in consideration of the other. The sounds two people were expected to make while engaged in sex rang out proudly, unabashed, and for me that brought on my final stand before I’d have liked it to have happened.

As I played out those moments of my own release watching Sara beneath me, she was exactly what she’d told me she was – a woman. I felt happy for…

I absently had gazed at the clock on the microwave across from us and the time caught my attention – 5:12 AM. Realizing that made me sit up straighter and freeze for a moment.

“What’s wrong?”

“You’re a bit intoxicating, you know that?” I answered.

“I am?”

“I’m generally sweating pretty good by now on my Peloton and this is the first I’ve thought about it or even my normal morning routine…”

“You can still make the café though, if you want…”

By the look on her face I could tell there was some disappointment about this morning together possibly coming to an end because my focus had shifted from her to my normal routines. Damn it!

“What if I didn’t go to the café?” I asked her.

“What if I… No,” she said taking my hand smiling. She nodded towards the hall and led me to my bedroom, past my bed, and into the master bathroom. “My hair is going to be a problem, but maybe I can just borrow a hair tie from Jenny and at least look less hideous after we shower.”

“You want to shower together?” I asked surprised, but smiling like an anxious kid on Christmas morning.

“Yeah…”

Before I could say another word she reached into my walk-in shower to turn it on, got the water temperature how she wanted it, unbuttoned the few buttons on my dress shirt she was wearing, slipped out of it, and stepped into the shower. I could only stare, mouth probably agape a little, and my cock was certainly not being shy in this moment. She was beautiful…

“You coming?” she asked turning to look over her shoulder at me from the shower.

I was out of my shorts and tank top and holding her in the shower in nothing flat. We both actually giggled like school kids for a few seconds as our hands made their way over one another. Sara pulled my face towards hers and our tongues were as entwined as our bodies were.

When she broke that kiss she said seductively, “I’m a bit sore, a good sore, but sore.”

I’m sure my eyes got a bit wider and I was about to apologize, but she slipped her hands between us and as one cupped my balls gently, the other was wrapped around a very stiff shaft. She moved backwards to sit on the shower bench, pulling what she had in her hand towards her mouth after sitting.

I walked into work just before 8 AM with one of my partners, Ken, and he was instantly on me.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, all good,” I said smiling.

“The coffee shop woman, eh? Must have gone well last night?” he asked, with full on innuendo present in his tone.

I’d told him yesterday about asking her to my place for dinner Monday and that we were getting dinner out last night. I could have used less Neanderthal in his probing, but got it – I hadn’t mentioned dating or women in months to either of my partners so this was a big deal for them too I guess.

“She’s nice and dinner was good.”

“That look on your face says more than dinner happened buddy…”

“There is no ‘look’ and we’re taking our time, so get your head outta the gutter.”

A lie certainly and I’m not even sure I would believe what I’d just said to be honest if I were him.

“Good for you,” he said as we went our separate ways to our respective offices.

I wondered for a brief moment whether he’d think that if he knew Sara was Trans. As I entered my office the phone on my desk began ringing. I looked at it blankly, thinking I did not want to be here right now. I wanted to be in the shower still with Sara or rolling around in bed with her or just hanging out or…

I caught the caller ID of the person calling and my heart sank.

“Hey, everything alright?” I asked worried something might be up with Jenny since my ex-wife, Denise, rarely ever called me at the office. Why hadn’t she called my cell?

“I don’t know – is there something you’d like to tell me?”

Something in her tone wasn’t right. Fuck! Jenny and I had talked about not saying anything to her mom about Sara and I was fairly certain she wouldn’t – at least not yet. I hoped this wasn’t a call to chew on me about Sara.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about Denise, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me,” I replied uncomfortably.

“I want to know whether or not you’re seeing a transsexual, and whether you gave any thought to whether I would approve of having something like that around my daughter.”

Fuck! Not the conversation I want to be having right now!

“Why would you think I’m seeing a Trans woman?” I asked doubling down on thinking I could skirt this conversation somehow.

“Because Jenny said something about you two talking to a nurse at some coffee shop this weekend and last night she had her laptop open on the kitchen table with browser tabs open for a Google search on ‘Transgender’ dating and another for her Facebook account that showed some nurse named Sara Connelly on it. This Sara person had that stupid pink and blue flag they like to shove in everyone’s face in his profile picture,” she barked annoyed that I’d tried to deflect her inquiry.

“Okay, well I think you’re overreacting. Did you talk with Jenny about this?”

There was silence on the line for easily ten seconds, so I figured my ‘overreacting’ comment had hit a nerve.

“Did you know this person was a transsexual?” she asked.

Guess we’re going to have this conversation now.

“She’s not a transsexual. I can see why that might be confusing, but to answer your question - no… Jenny kind of clued me in on her being a Trans woman when we saw her at the café.”

“There weren’t clues, Brad?” she asked chuckling. “Like you know, big hands, a mustache, a bulge in his dress, or whatever?”

You fucking bitch!

“I don’t need to explain myself to you Denise, and frankly you’re being kind of an ass right now! What’s your problem?”

“My problem?! You want to know what my fucking problem is Brad?! Our daughter being around some man wearing a dress! You really don’t think that’s a problem or would think I wouldn’t be concerned about that?!”

“Stop! Fucking stop!” I yelled while getting up to close my office door because across the hall from me Marty had leaned over to see what was going on due to my outburst. I didn’t say anything to him and just shut the door.

“No! This is how this is going to go Brad – if you insist on seeing this shemale and chasing some gay perverted fantasy of yours – fine, have at your boyfriend or ‘alternative’ lifestyle. But, I’m telling you I’ll petition to keep Jenny from you without supervision during your allotted time with her if you insist on seeing that guy. Are you hearing me?!” she screamed back at me over the phone.

“I’m not gay and you’ve got this all wrong,” I chuckled.

“Was he born male, like biologically a man right now still and assigned at birth as such or whatever they’ve changed that gender or sex conversation shit too? Why?! Why is it they want to up end every damn norm we’ve got?!”

I was so done with this conversation and fuming at her narrow attitude on anything regarding Sara. She knew I wasn’t gay or attracted to men – and even if I were, who gives a shit?! Was she really lumping every crossdresser, shemale, tranny, drag queen, or whatever into a single category to fear and hate? God damn it!

Breathe!

I hadn’t spoken for a few seconds, which got Denise asking, “Well?”

“Well what? You do what you think you need to do, but a few words of warning first. Your ignorance isn’t going to play well with Jenny. I suspect she either knows kids who are Trans or understands what kind of shit show this country has been for someone who is Trans. And lastly, I can’t stop you from filing shit, and I won’t. I also won’t beg you not to or lose sleep over it for fucksake.

“You want to go to court, draw up the papers, and get them to Lance. He’ll talk with your lawyer and we go from there. Who I see or chose to spend time with is none of your fucking business. You’re closed minded bullshit is more of a danger to our daughter than Sara would ever be,” I said just before hanging up on her.

Both partners spent the day giving me a wide berth. After the markets closed, Marty had swung by my office to see if he could help out with anything.

“We’re just concerned about you, Brad. So, whatever you need, okay?”

“I appreciate that… Denise just woke up extra bitchy this morning. It’ll die down.”

I wanted to believe that, but wasn’t counting on there not being additional shouting matches between us.

“She not happy about you dating?” he asked.

“That and the woman is Trans,” I shared without thinking that out fully before answering him.

“Trans? Like Transgendered?”

“Yeah, like that…,” I replied giving him a look.

“Oh, I… Okay, I wasn’t expecting that to be honest.”

“She’s a nice woman, it’s not a scary torrid shit show like Denise thinks,” I complained.

“And you’ve let this person around Jenny?” he asked with mild surprise in his tone.

I’m not sure why, but I could feel his judging me, his thinking I had lost my mind or was gay or whatever the hell was spinning in his little pea sized brain right now. Fuck! I felt like I needed to do damage control, so told him the story of how Sara and I met, how Jenny had picked her out at the coffee shop as someone I might be interested in, how I didn’t know she was Trans until Jenny pointed it out, and afterwards how her and I talked that out. I stressed that nothing about Sara gave Jenny any concerns and after my getting to know Sara she was right and I had no concerns about her being around Jenny.

“Deciding that or the inherent dangers aren’t the responsibility of a child though, Brad.” he stated.

“Really? Jenny’s sixteen and talked more intelligently than her mother did on this subject,” I protested.

“And you’re not like, you know or anything, right?” he asked gently.

“You know I’m not gay… Being with someone who’s Trans doesn’t make one gay, Marty. Tell me you don’t seriously believe that,” I asked.

“No, no, of course not… But, I’m just saying it wouldn’t matter if you were to me, or Ken. You’re choice of partners or who you’re attracted to is no one’s business,” rounded out his reply.

“Is my seeing Sara, going to be a problem?”

“It shouldn’t be, right?” he hedged his answer with a question.

“It shouldn’t, but I feel an uncomfortable vibe going on between us right now,” I said staring at him intently.

“No vibe from me, and Ken likely won’t care – his brother is gay and married, so he is tolerant of that kind of thing. What we do outside of the business is our own business. If it affects the business, well we’d need to reevaluate, right?”

“Tolerate? You think Ken tolerates his brother’s choice to be with someone he loves, even if that’s another man? Come on… He loves his brother, I think tolerate is a bit misplaced, eh?”

“Sure, whatever you want to call it…”

“And to level set this, my seeing Sara has about as much chance of screwing with our business as the Fed dropping interest rates a full percent over the next two quarters. Relax, we’re not going all ‘Pride’ focused or whatever. I’d just appreciate everyone being decent human beings, that’s all.”

My partners could be confusing at times and it’s not like I was asking them to make any special concessions for Sara or treat her with kid gloves if I decided I wanted to date her or bring her around. If we dated, we were going to be around and out and present and not holed up in some dungeon or whatever.

Good God! Why did any of this have to be so painful? And for what?!

[- Grounded -]

Sara had called around 5 PM to see if I wanted to meet tonight. She quickly picked up on there being something up with me and try as I might to get her to give me a bit of space, she wasn’t having it. She arrived just after I’d gotten home from work and came bearing Indian take out from a restaurant down the street I’d been curious about trying but hadn’t yet.

The food ended up being good, while the conversation about my day proved to be a bit more difficult. I explained my ex’s call and how my subsequent conversation with one of my partners about her had gone. She listened, asked a few generalized questions, hugged me, and apologized.

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for,” I complained. “And I don’t care what they’re issues are or might be, it’s bullshit.”

She was slow to speak after I’d said that, “Right now, you think you’re rallying around an injustice or people being shortsighted, which, yeah shows these peoples ignorance really. You can’t fix that unfortunately. I’m a lightning rod for fear and hate since I’m not exactly the norm these people are used too and I don’t like it’s spilled onto you like this.”

“Screw them, I don’t care.”

“If Jenny cared?” she asked quietly.

“I think Jenny does care and sees you for who you are. She knew, I told you that… She knew I was attracted to you even before I knew you were Trans. I’m telling you, what these people think is not an issue for me because I saw you before I learned any of that other stuff and it hasn’t changed my thinking or how I feel.”

“Easy cowboy… I’m not trying…,” she began saying but stopped speaking when the buzzer at the front door went off.

I hopped up and pressed the button, “Yeah?” The reply was the sound of a clicking door. I looked back at Sara, “Not sure what that was, maybe food delivery for some other unit?”

A minute later there was a tiny rap at the door and when I got the door open Jenny was standing there in the hallway.

“Hey kiddo… What are you doing here? Come in, come in…,” I didn’t get to ask what was going on or why she didn’t just use her key before she had her arms wrapped around me.

“I’m really sorry, Dad,” she said into my chest.

“Ah, nothing to worry about… Does your mom know you’re over here?”

I was assuming she knew her parents had gotten into a shouting match today.

“No…”

“Text her, let her know you’re here. I don’t need her anymore annoyed at me or thinking we’re colluding against her,” I said looking into the living room, “Come say hi to Sara, if you’re hungry we’ve got some Indian food still…”

She followed me to the kitchen, giving Sara a little wave, and fixed herself a plate of food. Sara joined us at the kitchen island as Jen explained how her mother had looked at her laptop and the fight they’d had about that invasion of privacy. The ‘nurse’ story wasn’t a great leap for her to figure out since Jen had mentioned meeting Sara this past weekend.

“I never meant for her to go all mental on you,” Jenny said taking a bite of a naan taco she’d made with butter chicken and rice as the filling.

“I know… We’ll work it out,” I replied. “Did Gary have anything to say about it?”

“No, I think he knew to stay out of this, though she complained to him about it for probably an hour. They don’t ever argue, but I know when they’re annoyed at each other,” she said.

“Do you have any concerns about any of this?” I asked knowing I was putting her on the spot in front of Sara, but felt like she could handle the adulting the question required given everything we’d talked about this past weekend regarding Sara.

“No,” she said looking at me and then to Sara, “You’re both consenting adults and can do whatever it is that makes you happy. I know who you are Dad, you’re not going to do anything reckless, contrary to what mom thinks.”

“Your mom thinks if I’m seeing Sara I’m being reckless though and we will work that out – not for you to worry about, okay? Think she’s stuck with the majority of the country who believed in the guy they elected who says people like Sara are what’s wrong with the world.”

“That’s a load of crap, Dad! With as many problems as we have in this country, being Trans isn’t what got him elected, right?” she asked looking at Sara to confirm her complaint.

We were both looking at Sara and she gave a little shrug before saying, “The Trans issue was just another fear mongering bullet point they used to sway voters I’m afraid. Did the Trans issue rate as high as the economy or issues at the border for the people that voted for that idiot, certainly not, but I wouldn’t discount the weight it added to the argument for change they kept spewing. The current administration dropped the ball on the LGBTQ+ community and ignored taking the pulse of the populous to try and educate people so as to quell their worries about why I’m such a threat to their way of life. I promise you I don’t want to screw up anyone’s right to their pursuit of happiness, just want to live my life as the real me.”

“But what about…,” Jen was beginning to say, but her phone began ringing.

She answered it, put it on speaker, and set it on the island.

“Jenny, let me talk to your father please…”

“He’s standing here, you’re on speaker,” she replied.

“Is he there?” the voice inquired from the speaker on the iPhone sitting between us.

“I am, what’s up?” I asked, shaking my head annoyed.

“Pick up the phone Brad,” was Denise’s reply.

“Nothing you need to say to me can’t be said in front of our daughter,” I chided.

“Alright, I’ll ask again, is ‘he’ there?” she asked annoyed.

“I’m the only ‘he’ here, Denise.” I held up my hand because Jenny looked to be ready to blast her mother. The idea of allowing that to happen was very tempting, but I was determined to take the higher road.

“I’m not going to argue semantics with you, alright…”

“Good, is there something you need, Denise?” I asked calmly.

“I think I made that clear earlier, so I hope you’re upholding my wishes on that request. Also, if I’m not mistaken today isn’t one of your days to have Jenny, so would you mind sending her home?”

“I will after she finishes eating, if that’s okay,” I replied trying to be civil in front of Jen and Sara, plus trying my best to not provoke my ex.

“Her permit doesn’t allow for her to drive without a licensed driver at night, Brad.”

“I’m aware of that; I’ll make sure she gets home.”

“Fine…,” she said annoyed and the call ended.

“She’s lost her mind!” Jenny complained.

When I didn’t immediately reply Sara said, “Her job is to protect you as best she knows how, and statistically speaking she doesn’t realize I’m about as much a threat to your wellbeing as a Trans woman as your chances are of getting hit by lightning at the north pole.”

“North pole?” Jenny asked.

“Super rare, but as the climate changes there’s a chance it’ll become more common up there,” Sara replied.

We left my place to return Jenny home an hour after Denise had called. Until we left, the three of us had engaged in a number of conversations related to the ‘wacky’ right wing conservatives out there now looking to screw with the countries fabric – again. It was interesting to hear Jenny’s take on the outer most fringes of either wing, left or right, and how they sure seemed to put a lot of effort into making people’s lives a living hell.

“It’s a shit show and I can’t understand why they get such pleasure out of imposing their brand of crap on people,” Jenny complained.

Of course, I had to complain too, “Language Jen, language…”

I’d driven with Jen back to her mom’s place and Sara had followed behind us.

“She’s really mellow, huh?” Jen asked.

“I guess,” was my reply. “She’s passionate about stuff, obviously, but I think her opinions on the things we were just talking about wouldn’t be described as radical or wanting to limit some group of people’s rights. I haven’t heard her say anything unreasonable since I’ve met her honestly.”

“You’re really cute, Dad…”

“Really now? I don’t get that sentiment from you when I’m trying to keep you from swearing,” I said chuckling.

Thankfully Denise wasn’t waiting out front for us to arrive and hadn’t even come out or peeked from behind curtains to see me getting into Sara’s car. Not that she would have been able to see who was driving the car in the dark mind you, but she wasn’t stupid either, so she’d probably have known or queried Jenny.

“I’m going to suggest something, but I need you to just hear me out completely,” Sara began as we turned onto the main thoroughfare outside the neighborhood Denise lived in.

“Sure…”

“There will be no convincing Denise I’m not some pedophile in a dress out to corrupt or do irrevocable harm to Jenny by being around her. Being Trans is scary for some people and after listening to her on the phone, along with what little you told me about your conversation with her today, well… Ya gotta admit in her mind she’s convinced I’m a bigger issue than some ‘bathroom’ protocol or whether I should be allowed to play sports on some woman’s team, right?”

I couldn’t see Sara’s face, but I reached over and put my hand on her thigh, “She doesn’t get to dictate my life.”

“For a couple more years she does though because of Jenny, at least in some legal circle. I, I really don’t want to make that time any more difficult for you.”

“I should be apologizing to you for her insanity, so yeah, I am really sorry that I’ve got that kind of crazy in my life right now and it’s spilled over onto you,” I offered softly.

“Okay, but here’s the thing I don’t think you’re seeing… It’s not your ex that brings out the crazy; it’s me because I’m Trans. I could pass, have an hour long conversation with someone and get them to like me, but when I mention being Trans – all that like evaporates…”

We came to a stop at a light and she looked over at me with a weak smile. A little shrug and head nod followed and was her suggested course of action. In my mind she was telling me we should probably end whatever it was we were trying to figure out doing together.

“No…,” I stated firmly.

The smile went blank for a moment, “It would probably be for the better, you that…”

“Again, no… I’m seeing things too, not that I don’t have things to learn or anything like that, but I’ve got enough of an understanding of the issues to know what’s right or what I want or when to give a damn about what Denise thinks. What you’re maybe not seeing is I get a choice in all of this and if I choose you, I still have Jenny regardless. Jen’s not going away, come on, you heard her talking about her moms craziness. I’ll deal with Denise, you just deal with me trying to get to know you, okay?”

“I don’t need saving, Brad,” she whispered as we began moving again when the light turned green.

“I never thought you did, but I wonder if that idea should be flipped around. I needed my orbit bumped a few degrees out of alignment for the better and there you were. I think I’m realizing my life was way too routine and needed to change...”

::: --- :::

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Thanks for reading...

Rachel M. Moore