Easy As Falling Off A Bike.
by Angharad.
Part 4.

I was lost in my own internal world of sensation, the gentle tugging at my hair, the snipping of the scissors and this strange buzz that emanated somewhere from my spine and finished on the top of my head. I wondered if it was my chakras that were being charged up, but dismissed that idea as I wasn't sure if there was such a thing as a chakra. There was another noise too, but it seemed very distant - then suddenly it got very loud.

"Hey Missy Muppet, I'm talking to you," she said fortissimo alongside my ear.

I jumped as I was wrenched back to the real world from my world of feelings. "Oh, I'm sorry I was miles away."

"Tell me something I don't know, you getting off on this? You are aren't you?" she teased me.

"What d'you mean?" I blushed profusely.

"This is turning you on, isn't it?" she laughed from behind me still playing with my hair.

"Not exactly."

"Go on, I'll bet something is straining against your knickers."

"If it is it must have disconnected from the rest of me," I replied dismissively.

"Oh!" she said, "don't you find this stimulating?"

"Not in that sense, I find it very relaxing and I was nearly alseep," I lied.

"Oh, I thought all you cross-gender types, found the dressing up bit very exciting."

"You've been misinformed," I wasn't sure that I wanted to continue the conversation in this vein, I felt a little threatened and was becoming defensive. I was also a bit peeved that she had stopped touching my hair.

"Well that guy I used to work with, he was always turned on by his dressing up and make up and stuff. Put a dress on him and he was anybody's."

"Sorry but I'm not."

"So I see," she began to brush my hair, turning it under at the edges.

"Look, I'm no expert but we're all different. Some experts describe it as a continuum of gender identity. Personally I think it may be more complex than that."

"Go on," she said spraying some stuff on my hair.

"This is just my opinion, we are all unique and the things that make us who and what we are, are the forces that mould us. No one knows why some men are macho and some are sensitive, or why some are gay and some aren't and so on. There are plenty of theories about why I think I'm female and as to why your friend used to get turned on by wearing dresses, but no one knows for sure. All I can say is that wearing a skirt doesn't make me feel sexually excited, it feels okay insofar as it feels right, but clothes and make up don't turn me on."

She had moved to stand by the side of me and held the brush with both hands up near her throat. "So what does turn you on then?"

"Dunno," I said blushing like a stop light.

"So nothing turns you on?"

"Look this is getting very personal and I'm not sure I want to continue this conversation."

"So if I dropped all my clothes and stood here naked, it wouldn't do anything for you?"

"Look, can we change the subject?" I was still blushing and feeling very uncomfortable.

"I find that fascinating, are you gay?"

"No I'm not fucking anything, all right?" I felt tears form in my eyes as I shouted.

"All right keep your hair on, I'm only trying to learn, that's all. No offence and all that." She stood still for a moment as I began to feel the tears form rivulets down my cheeks. She must have noticed because she handed me a sheet of kitchen roll and apologised. "Don't cry," she exorted, "I didn't mean to upset you."

"But you wouldn't stop your silly questions," I wailed and sobbed.

She put her arm around my shoulder and squeezed me against her body, my head was pulled against her breast and I could smell her perfume or soap. "I'm sorry," she said. She hugged me again, "I find you fascinating," she said, "you are just so girly."

"I'm sorry," I sniffed, wiping my nose on the kitchen paper.

"I don't mean that in a nasty way," she explained, "You don't have any make up on, yet no one would think you were a boy. Facially, you have soft features, your body is female shaped and.."

"I like cycling," I interrupted, "the same as most women."

"Ah, yes." She frowned at me, "Lots of women do ride bikes, my mother does."

"Do they build their own?"

"I have no idea; I expect some might; I have a girlfriend at work who does her own car servicing and repairs."

"Strange people nurses," I quipped.

"Nah, she's not a nurse, she's a radiographer. I reckon it's all that radiation, does something to their brains."

We laughed for a moment and I had to wipe my runny nose again. "So what do you do that's a bit different?" I asked her getting her away from the subject of my sexuality.

"You mean apart from prettying up transsexuals I knock off bicycles?"

I blushed as a response but nodded my reply to her nonsensical question.

"I gave up astrophysics to do hair dressing, they're not very compatible, all those cosmic rays play hell with a rinse. Then I drifted into nursing because they managed to find someone else to run the UN. In between times, I've been a fighter pilot, a deep sea diver and a brain surgeon, not to mention writing a best seller which has been translated into nine hundred and seventy three languages. I'm very big in the Indian sub-continent;" she joked doing a little curtsey.

"What was the title of your book?" I asked, captivated by her silliness.

"Yak breeding for beginners," she said and we both laughed until tears formed.

"Big in Tibet?" I added, and we laughed some more.