By Kelly Ann Rogers

I'm sorry this has taken so long, but for reasons I don't really understand, posting this chapter has affected me as deeply as sending my kids off to college. This story is one of my children, and now I've sent it out into the world.

Thanks for reading it.

KAR

Six months later

“That went great!” I sighed, leaning back on the front door, which I had just shut after saying good night to Barry and Diane, the last to leave. Diane had given me a lingering hug and Barry surprised me by adding a kiss on the lips to his own warm hug. “It was almost like things have been like this forever.”

“They are the sweetest people, aren’t they?”

“Yes, it makes me feel stupid to have isolated myself from them for so long.”

“You were stupid, and if I hadn’t kicked you in the butt, you probably still wouldn’t have seen them!”

“Yeah, I know,” I replied walking towards her. I put my arms around her and gave her a hug, turning my head so I could lay it on her shoulder. “Thank you for that. It was a kick I really needed.” After lingering for just a moment more, I stood up and grabbed Rebecca by her shoulders to turn her towards the kitchen. Giving her a little pat on the ass, I said, “Now we have to clean up though. Scoot, or we’ll be up all night.” As she started towards the kitchen, I headed towards the living room to pick up the remains of a lovely evening.

Once I had gotten everything into the kitchen and we sere sorting through it, Rebecca asked, “You and Marty were gone together for a while after dinner. What was that about?”

“That was about him quizzing me to see if being all girlie, as he put it, was what I really wanted to do, and then after I had convinced him that it was, him trying to talk me into letting him feel me up.”

“What? He came on to you?”

“Not hardly. I think he was just being his usual lewd self and goading me to see if there was any guy still left inside this girl. I almost let him do it. I told him the day he beat me at racquetball I’d consider it. But that’ll never happen. He’s too uncoordinated.”

“You little slut,” Rebecca squealed. “Those are mine and no one else is allowed to play with them.”

“Oh really? If you want to own them, you better pay close attention to them, or they might start to wander,” I teased, sliding over to her and pressing my chest against her back and rubbing my breasts against her. As she turned to look at me to see if I was being serious, I waggled my eyebrows at her.

“Well, if you ever start to wonder if I can take good enough care of them, just remember the first time we had sex after they had healed.”

I unconsciously licked my lips. It was a delicious memory. Rebecca was the kind of lover every girl should have, especially teenage girls for the first time they let a guy feel ‘em up.

“You were in the kitchen putting away groceries and starting to get things ready for dinner. Remember?”

I nodded. The memory was still crystal clear, and utterly delightful. “I was at the counter when I heard you enter the kitchen. I turned and when I saw the predatory look in your eye, I suddenly felt very shy. But you just kept walking toward me until you had forced me to lean back and put my hands on the counter behind me to brace myself. You knew it would thrust my chest out, which was just what you wanted, wasn’t it?”

She smiled, cocked an eyebrow and looked directly into my eyes, studying me for a moment. As I looked back, I noticed the creases at the corners of her eyes. They really had deepened since this whole thing began, what was it, three years ago, more? I tried to figure it out, but Sara interrupted, saying, “I knew just what I wanted to do. You looked so shy and demure, so very, very sexy; I almost forced you down on the counter to take you right there. But I really wanted it to be gentle and slow and delicious for you. So I stepped back slightly and put my hands on either side of your waist; it felt so soft as I gently caressed you through our blouse. Georgette wasn’t it.

I nodded, savoring the memories she was bringing back. “Um, you slid them up my waist, to my breasts. When you finally touched them, your palm cupped the outer half and your thumbs lifted and explored the bottoms just above the underwire of my bra. I was on fire. Then you rotated her hands so your thumbs were directly over my nipples. I could feel them tighten; it was exquisite.”

“Yes, I could feel it. Then I unbuttoned your blouse. It didn’t take long, you had already undone the top three, you tease.”

I blushed. Of course I had unbuttoned them. I had spent ten minutes in front of the mirror trying to figure out how many to leave undone. I had really wanted to leave four or five open, but I chickened out. Three seemed both sexy and demure.

“Your breathing was quick, almost out of control, like it always is when you get anxious. I whispered, ‘shhh,’ and you slowed down. As your chest rose and fell more deliberately. I was mesmerized by the way your breasts lifted and fell with each breath. I had never been so captivated by a pair of breasts before. And you had on the loveliest bra. After all those years of seeing nothing but the full-coverage bras you had to wear with your breast forms, that flimsy little scalloped thing was a revelation, just scrumptious. The sight took my breath away.”

“You didn’t waste much time taking it off though.”

“No! I could barely contain myself. I wanted to get to those lovely breasts.”

“You said, ‘Oh my,’ like you had never seen any before.”

“Sara, I had never looked at anyone’s breasts as sexual objects before. It was as new for me as it was for you.”

“You said you loved them, that they were perfect for me.”

“They were. They are! I felt like such a fool for having made them such a big issue. I was totally wrong.”

That broke the spell. It was time to deal with reality again. “No, no, you weren’t. You’re a warm, caring, lovely woman, who through no fault of her own got thrown into a confusing mess by her fucked-up husband.”

She looked up at me somewhat dubiously so I gave an anchor woman nod. Even though I hated the inanity of it, I felt it was just the thing Rebecca needed. I guess it was; she gave me a small smile in return.

“Really Rebecca, how could you have been more unlucky than to fall for a guy who was really a girl, only he didn’t know, or at least wasn’t ready to admit it. And then, after he figures it out, does he have the courtesy to just leave? No. He seduces you into a life of lesbian perversion.” I grinned to show I was kidding, and then went on, “You’ve had to go through a lot of stuff most women don’t even dream of, and your willingness to love me just melts my heart and makes me want to do everything for you — and I will.”

“Will you, now?” she said cocking her head while a devilish little smile spread across her face. “We’ll just have to see about that.

Turning completely around so we were facing each other she replied, “Oh, you. You think you’re such a big shot. I wonder just how you would respond if some guy came on to you seriously. From what I’ve seen so far, you’d probably throw yourself at him just to have him suck on your little titties.”

“No way!” I said with exaggerated outrage. “A guy is the last thing I want. And even if for some crazy reason, I considered it for a moment, the other last thing I want is for some guy to find out how I’m really equipped.” I rubbed my pelvis into hers to emphasize my point. “I’m sure I don’t want to find out what would happen then.” I backed away to start working again. “You and Diane were seriously huddled by the bar for awhile. What was that about?”

“Oh, the usual,” Rebecca replied airily, flipping her fingers at me. “Is he really a girl, are you a dyke, what’s it feel like to be a lesbian — the kinds of things girlfriends always talk about.”

I grimaced. “I’m sorry. I wish you didn’t have to deal with all that.”

She turned to face me again, a soapy bowl in one rubber-gloved hand and a sponge in the other. She was oblivious to the small puddle of soapy water that was forming on the floor under the bowl as she spoke. “You know, in a strange way it’s fun. It makes me special. To everyone else, I’m living this very adventurous life, doing something a little dangerous, like traveling to strange lands, and they can only sit home and feel totally ordinary. Even if they would never want something like this to happen to them, they’re a little envious because their lives are so ordinary. Beth nearly said as much.”

“Wow,” I replied in mock amazement. “This has to be the most amazing case of pulling a silver lining out of a dark cloud I ever heard of. As you may recall, the last couple of years haven’t been that much fun.”

She stood there looking at me for a few moments, and then in a wistful voice she said, “Yeah, I know. I wouldn’t wish them on anyone. But you know what? It’s really challenged me as a person. It’s made me examine what’s really important, and what doesn’t matter so much. It’s made me consider who I am, and how much of my self image is tied up in what others think of me. I mean, at first people saw me as a victim because you ‘did this to me,’ then I was a saint for putting up with it, and now everyone who sees but doesn’t know us thinks were lesbians. I wasn’t sure I could deal with that at first.”

I could see tears start to form in the corners of her eyes and she turned back to the sink so I wouldn’t see how upset she was. Again, I moved over to her, being careful not to slip on the wet floor. I grabbed her around the waist from behind, knowing I had to say something. Before I could figure out what that might be, she spun around to face me again. We were almost nose-to-nose.

“No, it’s okay,” she exclaimed. “Now I see that almost nothing has changed with our close friends and business acquaintances, and I don’t much care what others think. Most people couldn’t care less what we are, and when I see someone who seems to be disapproving I get angry. How dare they judge me without even knowing me! Lord knows, neither one of us has ever had anything but good relations with gay people - we work with them everyday for God’s sakes - but until now I never appreciated the burden they have to carry because some people have these irrational biases. Now that I’ve been thrust into a position of being seen as a lesbian woman, I’m far less accepting of people who are disapproving. What chutzpah!”

I couldn’t help it. I giggled.

“What are you laughing at?” she asked, fire rising in her eyes.

“No. Don’t get angry. It’s just that for me, being a lesbian is a real step up from being a trannie. It’s something I aspire to!”

“To be an outcast, and not a nice heterosexual gal with a nice boyfriend to take care or you?” she challenged.

“Do you think that’s what my parents want for me?” I asked. To find a guy rather than stay with you and maybe have children one day?”

“I’m very proud of you for the way you’ve brought your parents back into our lives. That was a huge step forward for you.”

“I don’t know how big it was, but it’s certainly been strange. My mom treats me like a daughter and we speak almost every day. I sure don’t know where that came from.”

Well, you are her daughter now aren’t you? And isn’t that how moms and daughters interact?”

“You don’t speak to your mother that often.”

She looked at me like I was an idiot. She rarely spoke to her mom, who had become an angry, bitter woman after her husband had died. Rebecca described her as toxic, and kept as much distance as possible, which wasn’t hard because her mom refused to call her.

I tried another example. “And I speak to her far more frequently than either Courtney or Leah, probably both together. Courtney I can understand, she’s always working. But Leah? They speak a couple of times a week at most. I don’t get it.”

Rebecca studied me a moment and then said, “Did it ever occur to you, my dear, that you just may be a sweeter person than either of your sisters? One’s a trial lawyer and the other’s a surgeon. Does that perhaps tell you anything about their personalities?”

I’d never thought about it like that before, but I guess of the three of us, I was the one ‘blessed’ with the most empathy and the skills to relate to other people. Was I the sweetest, even when I was a guy, I wondered. Then I had a clever idea. The reason I speak to her so much is to protect you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you know my mom will never leave us alone till we have kids. As long as she can harass me about it, she’ll be less of a pain to you.”

She looked at me dubiously.

I went on, “By the way, are you sure you want to let her get another shot at you this Sunday too?” We now saw my parents on most weekends.

“Oh spare me. You are such a fraud,” Rebecca teased. “And besides, it’s stupid to make excuses for doing something that’s good and right. I don’t think anyone knows better than me how important a good relationship with your mother can be.” A corner of her lip twitched, and she frowned for a moment. Then she crinkled her nose at me and a smile took over her face. “Yeah,” she said, “I think I do want to give her another shot at me Sunday. It’s worth it. You know my family life is nonexistent, and your parents and sisters are so nice to me. I need that. I really don’t want to give it up. At least not until I have to.”

I looked at her closely. I wanted to shout, ‘You’ll never have to give it up if you stay with me,’ but then I laughed. “I don’t know what you’re worried about; if we split up they’ll surely keep you and get rid of me.” It was supposed to be funny, but I guess it hit too close to home for both of us. We both fell silent.

But I knew what she meant. Things between us still weren’t settled. That good man might still show up, or she might decide she didn’t want to live like this or could never have children with me, even though I was both willing and able. We’d discussed it many times, but I didn’t want to go there again right now. I figured that someday I would have to have the operation and go the rest of the way to womanhood- I certainly didn’t want to end up in a nursing home as a woman with a cock - but I had lots of living to do, and children to create before that time came, so I tired something else to lighten the mood again. “You remember when Larry came over to fix the furnace?”

She giggled. It had been quite a scene. She had stayed upstairs while I opened the door. “You need to face these people,” she had said, and I agreed. How could I live in my own town without everyone there knowing who and what I was? We had been there for some years now and everyone knew Michael and that he was married to the lovely Rebecca. By the time Larry made it over, many of the merchants in town had met the new me, but Larry hadn’t. How often do you need a furnace repair man? He became so flustered when he figured out who he was talking to that I became embarrassed for him. I let him flee down the basement, because he needed time to collect himself, and I guess basements are places furnace repairmen feel comfortable. He so rushed to get down there that he hit his head on the way down, almost falling over. I gasped, and yelled out, “Larry!” For a moment, until he turned and gave me an embarrassed grin, I thought I would end up kneeling over him holding an ice bag to his bleeding head. But you know what? By the time he came up, he behaved as if Sara had always lived in this house with Rebecca. He was so sweet and so cordial that I almost kissed him on the cheek. I didn’t, of course, it probably would have given him a heart attack. Rebecca and I laughed and laughed about it after he left, but I never forgot how sweet he had been, and how accepting.

“Yes dear, you’ve come a long way since our little talk. Every day you look, no, make that behave, more and more like the ma. . .” She stopped and gave me a rueful look, and then went on, “person I married. The one I fell in love with, the one I still love. It’s just that I’m not sure what to do with Sara. With Michael, there seemed to be only plusses; with Sara there are plusses and minuses. It’s not just that I haven’t yet solved the equation; it’s that I still haven’t sorted out all the factors that go into it. I still don’t know what’s really important and what’s not, and how to weigh things against each other.”

I could feel tears start to form in my eyes. It was just so hard, our life. It wasn’t bad, it was just so uncertain. One day up, the next down. One minute up, the next down. Both of us learning and adjusting, or trying to, or refusing to. How much reality could anyone deal with in one dose?

So, as Rebecca and I stood there looking at each other, both of us tired, neither of us looking all that great, I took the path of least resistance. I leaned in and kissed her. First gently, just a touch on her lips, then a moment later, a little more eagerly, moving my lips over hers in a way we had done forever, and finally I really kissed her. Before we got to the point of no return, I pulled back and looked into her eyes. “I love you,” I whispered, and then before she could reply, I kissed her again.

“Oh, Sara,” she finally sighed, pulling her lips from mine. I couldn’t read the look in her eyes, though, and I shivered slightly my unconscious fear manifesting itself physically.

Rebecca picked up on my little shiver instantly, pulling me into a big, really comforting hug. Standing there so close to her, enveloped entirely by her presence, her touch, her hair, even her odor, I decided it was smarter to live in the present than worry about the future. If the past couple of years had taught me anything, it was that I really didn’t have control over much: barely over myself, less over the people I loved and virtually no conttrol whatsoever over the rest of the world. No matter what I did, unexpected things always happened. The best I could do was to work to be my authentic self, be patient with Rebecca and hope. I wondered for a fleeting moment whether I had the courage, but before any defeatist thoughts could form, Rebecca leaned in and started to nuzzle the side of my neck, pushing my hair aside so her lips could reach my skin. I sighed and let myself melt into the feeling. . . .