A birthday wish gives Siobhan Llewellyn far more than she knew in Miao Ling Grace. Grace and Shiv have adjustments galore to go through, including culture shock, language barriers and coming to terms with being open about their relationship.

Though my first installment is easily acceptable to general audiences, later installments will have sections meant for adults only. That is to say:
At times, this story is not safe for work and truly not acceptable reading for those under 18.

Please enjoy my first installment of String of Pearls.
- Eclectic Kitty

Part One: Wishing On Trick Candles Takes Extra Effort

2:25pm October 14th, 2009 Our 'Flat', San Francisco

What should I feel? Who could tell me? I suppose I'll just have to wait for time, experience and/or my love-addled brain to reveal the secrets and character of my débutante heart.

As she slept against me, breathing slow and rhythmically on a cool autumn San Francisco afternoon, my thoughts explored and caressed the beautiful half of my soul. When we opened the boundaries of friendship into love, I found out for the first time in my life that humans aren't complete until they find the other half of their soul. They sometimes find a partial or ill-fitting match, then attempt to make due with that. What surprised me was that the perfect fit to a yang isn't always a yin. Sometimes it's another yang that completes the wuji.

I wonder what she's dreaming about.

On second thought, she hasn't stirred for a while, so perhaps she has not yet begun to dream. When she does, will it be of me-- of us? We are all I can think about when awake and beyond all I ever imagined I deserved in a hundred lifetimes.

Looking down across the futon, I followed the way the sheet held tight to the curve of Grace's hip. Seriously tempted, but committed to not disturbing my sleeping lover, I focused instead on the first hints of this marvelous, magical love that began fifteen years ago and brought me completion. It all started with the kind of soul-deep wish that only children seem capable of asking.

A bit after lunch, July 16th, 1994 Miao's Santa Clara

Miao Ling Grace moved in across the court from us in June of 1994, just after my tenth birthday. Her family moved to our quiet corner of Santa Clara from Hong Kong. For me, it was like a dream come true.

My best and only friend Tommy had moved away to Tennessee that January, so I had wished over my cake very hard for a new friend to move into his old house. Two days later, a SOLD sign capped the Better Homes brokerage sign.

Mom sent me over with zucchini bread with raisins and our greetings when the Miao family arrived two weeks later, right in the middle of sunny July.

Mrs. Miao didn't look Chinese. She looked quite like my cousin Felicia, though with bright blonde hair and a nose that tipped up in such a way that she must look down her nose at the whole world. Her reaction was smooth and warm as she accepted the bread graciously in a sweet BBC anchor-worthy accent. I didn't expect an English family to be moving in across the street.

How I love any and all British accents, I thought with rising anticipation.

“This smells quite good, Siobhan. Did you help to make it?”

“No. I was taking a bath when my mom was mixing it up.”

“Perhaps next time. I always enjoyed cooking with my mother. I hope we will become good neighbors and friends.

“My daughter, Grace, has been eager to meet you. Allow me to call her. Grace? Come down, please.”

When Grace arrived, she looked sourly at her mother with a monstrous, pouty bottom lip. In an English accent that was just like her mother's, she accused, “She's not pretty, like you said she was.”

Hurt and angry, I was glad of my parents' insistence that I was well-versed in British humor and gave my sweetest smile and laid my best English working class-tinged accent. “And wot kinda poppet 'sgot Viking 'air and Jap-o-nese eyes?”

Grace drew in a huge breath, which gave her mother time to close the door before her daughter belted out, “I'm Chinese and you have ugly orange hair! Plus, you are totally filthy like the carrot you are!”

“Grace. Go to your room. Now,” Mrs. Miao ordered evenly before opening the door again.

I was angry, but it all flew away when I looked up at Mrs. Miao's scowl. “I'm sorry Mrs. Miao.”

“Look sweetie, Grace is none too happy about moving here from our home in Hong Kong. She lost her friends and she lost her home, so please give her a little time to adjust, but don't give up on her. I think you two will become fast friends,” she added with a smile.

“I'm sorry about calling her Japanese. Hong Kong is Chinese, right?”

“Yes, it is. It is also British in a small number of significant ways, but that's due to change soon. It's part of the reason we came to America. Speaking of which, how about that accent of yours, wot? Where'd you learn that?”

Embarrassed at having the extra scrutiny, I squeaked, “'Are You Being Served?' has a woman named--”

“Miss Brahms,” Mrs. Miao finished for me with a laugh.

“That's right. 'Glass of water for Mister Grainger!'”

“Ohhhh, I loved that show as a child," she gushed.

“Tell me, are old reruns your only exposure to British culture?”

“Oh no! I also have seen a bunch of old movies, too,” I replied with a smirk.

Grinning widely, Mrs. Miao said, “I like you, Siobhan. Despite the fact that you insulted my daughter-- not without provocation,” she added when she saw me shrink a little, “I feel that you will be able to keep up with Grace just fine. She has a similar sharp wit. Perhaps you two can work it out with some time together.

“I'd like to iron out a few things about our family first. Would you like to come in and share some of your mother's deliciously fragrant zucchini bread while we talk?”

“I'll have to ask, but I'd like that.”

“By all means, invite your family over if they have the time. We could certainly use a break from deboxing for a bit.”

Leaving the Miao's, my doubts and my hopes fought for dominance.

On the one hand, Grace seemed to be a spoiled brat. She'd answer for that carrot comment. On the other, her mother was beautiful and sweet. Her promise of a 'fast' friendship was a little confusing, but I don't think she meant quick. I'd have to ask mom or dad when I got in.

Early afternoon July 16th, 1994 Miao's, Santa Clara

My mother was not pleased at being invited to the Miao home on short notice, as today was a cleaning day and there wasn't enough time to become presentable. I dragged her along anyhow by giving her a quivering lip and tears on the verge of spilling. She just smirked and came along without a fuss.

Walking up the steps to the porch, we jumped out of our skin when a boy with wild and long light brown hair started mashing huge bubble wrap blisters with huge stomps that boomed on the wooden porch.

Where the front door had been one moment, a blink later Mrs. Miao appeared, having obviously heard the ruckus. The cackling boy took the distraction of his mother's appearance to cover his dash over the railing and down the side yard with a mirthful whoop of victory.

Composed, but obviously none-too-happy with her son, Mrs. Miao introduced her little monster, “That was Cretein. He is usually more manageable, but it seems my son has forgotten his manners.

“My name is Heidi Miao. Do please come in.”

Our irritated scowls melted in the face of Mrs. Miao's good manners.

“Pleased to meet you, Heidi. I'm Alana and you've already met my husband Daniel and daughter Siobhan. You may meet my stepson John sometime soon, since he is with us every other week.

“Forgive my appearance. Saturday is a cleaning day for us, so I was busy with laundry.”

“Think nothing of it Alana. I have similar attire for much the same reason,” Mrs. Miao reassured. “We do not have guest slippers yet, so you needn't remove your shoes.”

Mom turned to me and raised her eyebrows, but said nothing as we entered a foyer that was quite familiar to me.

From where I was standing, I could see that it was the only familiar part as far as color and flooring was concerned. The walls of the living room were light green on the far wall and to my right and a yellow to my left and behind me as I walked in. The kitchen beyond to the left was caramel brown with teak cabinetry and crown molding that seemed to hang in mid-air due to the color difference.

“Do you like what we've done with the place?” Mrs. Miao asked us, hopeful for a compliment.

I wasn't done looking, but my mom answered politically, “It's lovely. It certainly makes the room more interesting to be in. Ecru is so boring.”

“Thank you, Alana.” Not to be let off the hook, Mrs. Miao addressed me directly. “And your thoughts are, Siobhan?”

“Tommy's parents were smokers, so the walls were always gross. They also had pets that weren't trained, so this house smelled really bad before. Did you change the upstairs too?”

Unsure how she had asked for such detailed information about the former occupants, Mrs. Miao hedged a bit. “We've had the walls painted and the carpets put in, but the upstairs isn't yet furnished. Why do you--”

“Tommy's room was in the middle. Is the middle room Cretein's?”

“The children have expressed interest in the room east of the middle room. They will be drawing lots on it later. The middle room is larger for closet space, so if I were them, I'd select that one, but I am not a pre-teen with an agenda set by the whim of conversations with Fae folk.

Mom chuckled lightly and pointed out her zucchini bread, which had been sliced and set upon nice blue and white china among a very flowery tea set that featured a large white pot with a blue ribbon outlined in gold amid every different kind of flower you could imagine.

“Is that a Chinese tea set?” I asked.

Sporting a very bemused smirk, Heidi Miao picked up a cup and turned it over for me to read. “St. George Fine Bone China MADE IN ENGLAND” was printed next to a knight in full armor holding a lance.

Puzzled by what I saw as an illogical claim, I asked, “How can China be made in England?”

Mom jumped in to help cover my lack of education in this area. “China is pottery. Porcelain. It is clay that is very fine and hardens very nicely. It is a little expensive, but long-lasting-- with proper care,” she added pointedly. “It is made all over the world.”

Mrs. Miao took our pause to mean that she should continue. “That brings me to why I hoped you'd join me for a chat. I'd like to talk about our family a little and give us some base to touch upon for becoming good neighbors and hopefully form a friendship between our families.”

Mrs. Miao showed us to some stools at her caramel and blue tiled breakfast bar, which allowed us to look out over the same old backyard I had known, but with completely dead grass. Seeing my and my mom's puzzled gaze, she began on her plans for the home.

“We will be putting in a pool and paving the area around it, so we didn't see the point in caring for the grass. There will be bamboo here in large pots and very many fountains. We hope it will be a garden of tranquility.”

Seeing sparkles in our eyes, she continued, “In the front yard, half the lawn will be turned into a fenced court for entertaining or enjoying the sun. You see, right now, it is raining diligently in Hong Kong. It is the wet season there and seems a bit warmer than here, though the temperature was 28 degrees when we left and the thermometer here says it is 28 degrees, so humidity definitely plays a part.

“We moved here due to the coming change of political systems in Hong Kong's future, when the British Empire relinquishes control of Hong Kong's government back to China. I can't say that I'll miss the weather, physically or politically,” she finished cryptically.

Mom took the opportunity to change the subject. “If you don't mind my asking, I'd like to know if you were raised in Hong Kong. You sound English.”

Blunt as ever, I mused, wisely keeping the smile from my expression of 'deep interest.'

“You and your daughter have a good ear for accents, I am learning. My family is located in Kidlington, where I spent my youth going nowhere.” Seeing our blank expressions, she amended, “Near Oxford.”

We nodded as two quite dim light bulbs came on that would only reach full illumination with a very detailed map.

Satisfied for the time being, Mrs. Miao continued, “I left for Hong Kong to fill an English instructor vacancy for Intel. It was wonderful pay, if a bit boring, since it was riddled with technical jargon. Once, I had to call the Santa Clara office for confirmation when a co-worker pronounced 'see em oh ess' as sea moss.”

Since she thought it was humorous, we smiled and Mom said, “Daniel would know all those terms. He loves computers.”

“He did mention that he'd love to see how he'd get on with Bruce.”

“Is Bruce a Hong Kong native?” Mom asked.

“Yes. His family has been in Hong Kong for as long as he is able to trace his lineage back to around 1300 AD. Most recently, with his parents and grandparents, there was a bit of intermarrying with an Italian and a French actress just these past two generations. It was quite the family scandal back in the 50s and 60s, but has since become common enough that marrying me was quite welcome by both our families.

Mrs. Miao took a moment to turn dramatically to the side and call loudly for Grace and Cretein.

Grace called out, “Straight away, Mother.” A rumble upstairs was audible shortly before a series of nearly imperceptible squeaks told us that someone was descending the stairs at a much safer pace.

Cretein didn't respond, so Mrs. Miao went to the back door and slid it open to find Cretein crouched and grinning beside the wall next to the sliding glass door. She pointed in the house with a raised eyebrow and he straightened himself before strutting haughtily inside.

Cretein tipped an imaginary hat at us and plopped down on the floor beside the counter just inside the kitchen. Grace entered and behaved as if she did not see us.

“Grace, please introduce yourself or you can spend the day in a room of my choosing, which will become your new bedroom.”

“Yes Mother.

“Good afternoon. My name is Grace Miao. I am in my eighth year of school and I don't like it here.”

“Grace. You are being rude to our guests. Apologise and pour the tea for our new neighbours.”

Grace was going to attempt further defiance, but gathered up her ire and seemingly locked it away. She poured out our tea and joined her brother on the floor.

I couldn't help but watch her as she moved about and poured our tea. She was taller than me and the blonde hair was not as much of a puzzle to me as her reddish brown eyes that looked like cinnamon buns with the frosting drawn out in thin lines away from the dark center. I could also tell she did not like the scrutiny, so I looked away-- then back. It was hard to fight.

Mid-afternoon July 16th, 1994 Llewellyn's, Santa Clara

Heidi Miao sent Grace along with me to play, which went over with Grace like a pile of horse apples.

That was before she saw my collection of vinyl, cassettes and compact discs. She stood transfixed; likely from the shame of her behavior that now stood as an obstacle to her getting what she wanted, which was to drool over my hand-me-down collection of music.

I pondered letting her off the hook, but decided to make her ask. She owed me for the “filthy carrot” comment.

“You like our collection?”

“Our? This isn't all yours?”

Wow, she may just go home without seeing my prized vinyl today.

“My brother and parents added their stuff to my collection as they acquired CD versions. The CDs are what I've spent most of my allowance on, though I love the vinyl the best. It has such a clear sound that makes me lose myself in every note and beat.”

Grace pulled a lock of her hair around in front of her and began twisting the end of it lightly while looking down.

“Is something wrong Grace?”

“No. Not really. It's just that I've been such a pain and I don't feel like anything I say is going to sound true.”

She looked up at me for a moment past her bangs. It was a look I'd been finding great success with lately, though I didn't have bangs.

I raised my eyebrow at her and waited.

“Wot?”

“Well, I'm just waiting for you to figure out that I'm not going to buy your 'sweet innocent me' look. In fact, I find it offensive that you'd try.”

“You think I'm being disingenuous?”

“I think, Grace, that you are crazy if you think I'm going to let you near my music collection until I trust you. I'm not sure I can yet.”

“Think what you like. I should go back to my new home in this hell. Nice to meet you,” she spat.

Grace turned in a swish of long blonde hair and daisy-colored summer dress, intending to leave. I couldn't let her. There was something about these masks we were wearing that seemed to be mere pretense and culture clash.

She had answered my wish. I knew it was her and not her brother, but I couldn't put my finger on why I wanted to be her friend so badly. I placed a hand on her bare shoulder.

“Don't go. I know we're not being who we really are. I'm angry about what you said, but I wished so hard on my birthday a few weeks ago that I would find a new best friend moving in across the street from me and I know that you are that person.”

Without turning, Grace said, “My only wish is to be home at our flat in Hong Kong.”

It seemed that ten minutes passed, though it might only have been seconds in the deep silence. I lifted my hand and nearly whispered, “I'm sorry you lost your home. I'll do my best to make this one a good one for you and your family if you would give me a chance.”

Grace turned and caught my attention with her unique eyes. She held out a hand after studying me for a moment. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Siobhan Llewellyn.”

When I took her hand in a friendly grip, she winced because she was offering no grip in return. “Sorry,” I lamely offered. “It seems we have a lot to teach each other about customs.

“I am pleased to meet you, Grace Miao.”

With a smooth sweep of her arm, Grace gathered her dress to one side as she sat on my fuzzy brown loveseat. It was as if she had magically taken her legs up with the skirt and floated down, her descent was so fluid.

“If we are to be good friends, I would like us to know each other's names. For instance, my family name is pronounced 'myow', not 'mee-ow'.”

“Thank you for clarifying. My surname is Welsh and is pronounced 'hlhoo well inn.”

“I will practise it, if you would write it down.”

“I'm sure we'll have plenty of time to practice, but I'll write it for ya. Now, let's listen to some music, OK?”

“I'd like that.”

“Would you like to choose something?”

“I would be looking forever, but if you have anything by Bjá¶rk...”

Certain that my devil horns were showing, I lit up my amp receiver, tape deck and EQ, then pulled out Life's Too Good without showing Grace. I then rewound it to the second from the last track on side A, “Delicious Demon”. I hit it pretty well, only having to rewind it a teensy bit more.

Grace knew about the Sugarcubes, but hadn't heard anything other than “Birthday”. Her obvious interest in my collection and our discussions about what we'd listened to proved to be a solid groundwork for a lasting friendship.

Midday, August 13th, 1994 Miao's, Santa Clara

'Cretin' and I didn't have the heart-to-heart that Grace and I had shared. He and I were like oil and water, where he and Grace were like oil and vinegar. I loved them together, but without her, he and I couldn't find much to relate to each other about.

'Chris', as he now preferred to be called, was mean-spirited in his humor and that's what really kept me from liking him. He was amused with his own antics, but not in a way that was charming. He was a little jerk.

By 'little' I mean that here at the end of summer, I outdistanced him by a good two inches although he was a year older. Grace was now a bit shorter than me but gaining a figure that made me want to kick start my own body's hormones somehow so as not to be left behind.

Following my gaze to Grace leaning over the railing at the other end of the porch, Chris leaned in with some 'sage' advice, “Don't worry. It'll happen to you soon, I would gamble. All the girls at school that are my age are well on their way.”

I cringed at how lecherous Chris sounded, but knew that Grace was upset by our inability to get along. So I kept his mouth running by giving him the usual prompting of, “Uh-huh.”

“Yep,” he continued as if that were his cue, “I'd put good money on you being one of those supermodel types. Pretty face, thin, fake boobs--”

“Listen up, 'Cretin.' I don't intend on having fake anything, or being rail-thin. If my mom is any window to my future, I'll never be a supermodel, but I'll definitely look like a girl.” There went my self-control.

“Who do you take after that helps you look like one, 'Big Guy''?”

He didn't seem to see the slight buzzing over his head in a holding pattern, but knew I had said something to irk him. When it finally hit, he turned quite red and looked away from me.

“My mum tells me that my hair is too lovely to cut. At least, she used to. Now she just chases me about with a comb and threatens to snip it off in my sleep,” he lamented.

Chris turned back around and tried to avoid Grace's concerned look as she came to sit with us on their porch. I just shrugged.

“Chris, what's wrong?” Grace prompted.

“It's nothing truly. It's just Shiv being mean to me, as usual.”

Grace looked at me and I just rolled my eyes, then glowered at Chris.

“Chris was attempting to take jabs at my femininity, so I turned the tables on him. I bet you'd do the same.”

“I would never take jabs at--”

“Shut up, Chris,” we said at once.

“--Grace's femininity,” he finished anyway.

Sometime before lunch, August 15th, 1994 Llewellyn's, Santa Clara

Grace's parents were outraged by the California school system's insistence that Grace be placed in seventh grade. Even with advanced placement classes, it fell quite short of her proposed curriculum at the Island School back in Hong Kong.

Her gifted status at Glenealy School and had gained enough confidence with the principal and the year six teacher to advance her to the Island School as a year eight student from sixth.

Embittered by the injustice of suffering others' ignorance, but resolute that their daughter not be held back, the Miao family decided to ask my family about the school.

My dad chuckled knowingly, having expected the answers that the principal had given them.

“They'll tell you that your kids aren't 'mature' enough, then hold their heads underwater to drown in boredom, so they never can tell where they are going and must rely upon the system to guide them.

“Siobhan is going to eighth grade at Junipero Serra and I highly recommend you talk to the people there about enrolling Grace and Chris.”

Mr. Miao looked skeptical, but nodded.

“Don't worry Bruce. It's a Christian school, but they don't hit your kids over the head with it. It's a private school that's a little costlier than some, but is more reputable than a few others with a higher price tag. Siobhan's been going since she was in kindergarten and was bumped in second grade to third, so she's right where Grace is at.”

“That sounds grand. I'd appreciate you going with me, as I may not know the American equivalents for the British school my children were attending prior to coming here.”

Listening to Dad and Mr. Miao talk, I couldn't help but be excited about having Grace at my school. I was worried that she might be going to public school.

A couple of other things didn't escape my notice during their conversation. The first was that my dad was not at all happy with the government-controlled school system. The second was that Mr. Miao seemed to be having reservations about moving here.

An hour or so after school, November 10th, 1994 Miao's Santa Clara

“She is upstairs, sweetie, washing up after her Thursday fencing class,” Mrs. Miao reminded me. “I don't hear the water running any longer, so if you'd like, you can go up to see if she's done.”

Grace had not entered her room by the time I'd gotten up there, so I flopped down on her bed to wait. I had a brand new “Message in a Box” set with me since she had been drooling over my The Police collection at my house.

It felt good to buy music for Grace. Tommy and I had never done anything like that, since he was very stingy with his possessions.

Grace entered, wrapped in towels, her old clothes dangling in a laundry net. She jumped a little when she saw me in her room, but recovered quickly with a smile.

“Hullo Shiv. What's that you've got there?”

“Something for you that I picked up when Mom took me to Streetlight. Could be yours.”

“Really?” she said as she took the towel off her head and started squeezing gently down the length of her hair. “Could I convince you to tell me the title?”

“It's by The Police.”

Grace really had gotten into The Police after finding out that Sting was in it. She had a long way to go to get up to speed on music and I was happy to be her guide. At least she knew that Sting's real name was Gordon Sumner.

“There's no need to tease,” she pleaded. Scrunching up her nose and narrowing her eyes, she accused, “You're enjoying doing so, aren't you?”

“I aim to tease,” I admitted in my best Grace accent.

“Ugh. Well if you don't mind, I need to dress, so--” She twirled her finger to indicate that I should look away.

Dutifully, I turned my head to look outside, only to find that she had a very reflective window when the tree outside was shadowy in the afternoon sun.

She had been developing and I felt the gnaw at my gut of jealousy. My hips were coming in and I was getting taller, but my bust seemed intent on using bras merely for protection against chafing and the cold-- certainly not support.

I sighed and Grace heard.

“You're not peeking, are you?”

“And what's to see? We are both girls, last I checked.”

“I'm not shy about that, really, but I feel quite exposed without my pants on at least.”

“To answer your question, I saw the outline of your figure and nothing more in the reflection in the window.”

Grace got quiet as she continued to dress. I wondered if I had said something to upset her. Changing the subject, I found a way to allay her fears of me trying to peep.

“Are there any guys at school or maybe fencing class that you find cute? I saw Curtis looking your way more than once, though he's not too smart.

“He tried to get Angelica's number twice last year and the best he could come up with was, 'We got the same quality of blond goin' on.'

“She hit him the second time. Squarely in his right bicep. I saw him carry his backpack in his left hand after trying the right.” I laughed in remembrance, but held it in when I saw Grace's perturbed face.

“He hasn't tried, nor would I give him the time if he asked it of me. I have some adjustments to make before thinking about boys overly much.”

Now I've done it, I thought. I made her focus on how she's new here and still not fond of playing down her accent and catching up on new terminology when people didn't understand her right away.

We'd enjoyed all summer with nonstop barbecues and splashed in her pool until we were nothing but peachy prunes, then took our bleary eyes up to my room for music and book swapping.

She was heavy into fantasy, but I liked mystery novels. We found that neither was exclusive of elements from the other genre, so we started reading each other's books.

Our discussions about what we'd read and the music we'd listened to was great for learning about each other's language quirks, though it wasn't comprehensive enough to cover everything she'd hear at school.

Grace was also staunchly against cursing as a means of communication.

I suppose that's why it took me by surprise when she said, “Dammit Shiv, I've been staring at you for quite some time, now. Are you going to give me that gift or not?”

At a very unusual loss for words, I simply handed her the package. It seemed even Grace had allowances for special circumstances, such as a carrot dangled too long out of reach.

Ripping into the paper and seeing that she now held the entirety of The Police's official studio music, she gathered me into a hug that flooded my nose with honeysuckles and lavender. It wasn't fair that she made being girly seem so easy.

Most certainly will be continued...

Shiv recalls more of the incidents of the past that helped shape her heart around Grace. The pair still have many adjustments to go through, including culture shock, language barriers and coming to terms with being open about their relationship. Grace's efforts to connect with Siobhan finally bear fruit after many years of waiting.

This entry is a section meant for adults only. That is to say:
This story is not safe for work and truly not acceptable reading for those under 18.

Having said that, I hope you can feel the intensity I tried to express in String of Pearls.
- Eclectic Kitty

Part Two: Schooled In Ze Vays Of Making Loooove

Early afternoon, December 17th, 1994 Llewellyn's, Santa Clara

Classes were a total pain by Christmas time. Not only was I getting behind in world history classes, I was feeling like Grace and I weren't seeing eye-to-eye about much lately.

She seemed uncomfortable around me. I don't know how to explain it, but I think that she didn't trust me for some reason. If it had to do with me almost seeing her nude, then that was silly. We'd seen each other in bathing suits that left precious little to the imagination.

I'd been trying to get to know her brother better, in case my previous lack of effort with Chris was the cause of the widening rift between Grace and I. Chris enjoyed the attention and actually scaled back on being a jerk quite noticeably as we became better friends.

The first day of Christmas break, Chris came over and asked to see me.

While not unusual, I was usually the one who went over to ask him to come out.

“Heya Chris. What's up?”

“Funny expression, that one. It makes me seem 'up' to no good.”

“Make of it what you will,” I said, not giving away the intent of my words. “It's new to me that you have come to see if I'm home before I went to see you.”

“I'm looking to turn over a new leaf. A truly new leaf.”

Chris got quiet and looked at the ground thoughtfully. I gave him his space to think.

With a sigh, he ran his hand through his long light brown hair and snapped his gaze to me, surprising me with its intensity.

“Grace needs you. Needs your friendship. She's been a total drag about the house and honestly could use a pick-me-up. She's been listening to that damn Police CD you got her nonstop and it is truly maddening; and I love The Police! Won't you go talk to her?”

“Of course I will. Is she willing to talk to me? Something I'm doing is not going over well and I don't know what it is, exactly.”

“Ah. That. Well, try this on for size: Grace is not yet ready to start chatting about boys and puberty and all that. Our family is a bit conservative, even by starchy English standards. Just walk around that subject for now, eh?”

“I can do that. It's not like I was trying to make her uncomfortable. I really want to be her friend. Her best friend.”

“I know that's how she feels about you too. She just didn't think it was okay to tell you what you should be talking about. I overheard her talking to Mum about all this, so don't tell her how you know.”

“I promise to be smart about the whole thing. Thank you, Cretein.”

“I like it when you call me Chris,” he said with a wink.

“One other thing before you go over there: Grace had trouble getting on with some of the kids at our old school in Hong Kong, though she likely won't want to talk about it.

“They made fun of her hair and eyes, but most cutting were the snide comments about her accent. I should know, they did it to me constantly, though I seemed to have had a knack with image that has eluded her. Surely it's jealousy. Those kids actually made fun of her for sounding 'too English'. That and having the arrogance to correct people's speech, spelling, grammar, maths, geography-- you name it. That penchant of hers fed into the snobby image the kids tried to hang on her.

“Brits aren't normally targeted for such discrimination, but my sister has, as you've noticed, unquestionably mixed lineage and that makes her an easier target than most. People know that her hair is naturally blonde, but I've gotten on with people assuming that I bleach mine out. That and lighter brown eyes aren't exactly unheard of.

“Just realize that people here aren't too dissimilar and they will certainly name her differences at the very least, and try to knock her down for those things that elevate her above others at worst.”

Chris's speech floored me. My whole image of him seemed to come undone like a clay mold that was broken away to reveal the iron casting within. It touched me deeply and made me go all watery-eyed.

“You have my word that anyone who has something to say edgewise about Grace will have to answer to me.”

“That's what I want to hear,” he agreed with a brightening of his face.

“Now get over there. You have a holilday to make the most of.”

“I will. You will join us more often? Please?”

“Hunh, I'll have to check my schedule. Er, looks as if I'm free for the time being!”

Sometime before three in the afternoon, December 17th, 1994 Miao's, Santa Clara

Mrs. Miao was happy to see that I was coming over to see Grace again. With an incline of her head, she acknowledged Chris's influence in the matter.

Grace was up in her room with the door ajar. I pushed my head in and said, “Hey girl!”

I got quite a show watching Grace sing and dance along with 'Canary in a Coalmine'. After being frightened out of her skin, she leapt across to her bed and threw one of her myriad pillows at me.

“Taking it to the physical altercation level, eh?” I challenged. I snatched up the errant pillow and dodged another tossed my way as I casually flicked the square pillow right into her midsection.

Chris begged off getting involved into a pillow fight, so he missed out on us playing like little kids, throwing pillows, tickling, singing, wrestling and dancing for over an hour until we were out of breath from laughing and we agreed to call the contest a draw.

Had he been there, I'm not sure we would have been dancing so crazily when "Man in a Suitcase" came on. It was embarrassingly high-stepping fun.

When we had caught our breath, Grace came over to me after regarding me for a moment and hugged me.

“What was that for?”

“For coming over again. I thought I'd really messed things up. I know Chris had some piece in it, but you still had the choice of whether to come.”

“He's really something. Quite surprising,” I lightly huffed.

“He's all right, yeah.”

“I'm sorry, Grace.”

“Don't even start. I've been feeling sorry for myself and didn't know how to tell you that I had a problem. Let's just begin anew, okay?”

“OK.”

1994/1995 Junipero Serra School K-8, Santa Clara

Junior high school was bumpy for Grace, Chris and me. We all caused our own little stir, but none so much as I did.

The first thing that I can remember setting me off was Vince Bolini saying, “China's 'Most Favored Nation' status must be paying off if we're getting kinds of imports.”

I was taller than he by about four inches and he had it coming with his crude mouth and misogynistic outlook. I pushed him down and dared him to explain what he had just said in detail. He just stammered out apologies and ran off.

Grace wasn't pleased with either of us.

Another time, an eighth grade girl was making fun of Grace's accent in a group of six other girls girls from our class and I was caught flipping them all off. Nothing I told Sister Anna or fat Pastor Pat about the situation stopped them from calling my parents.

There were some other altercations, but the one that got me in the most trouble was when Jerry Cummings snapped Grace's bra and made her cry.

She'd been having a hard day already, and I just let loose on him with a cussing barrage that had him backpedaling away from me so fast that he hit a cement wall and started bleeding from the injury. He called me the unforgivable 'c' word, so I kicked him in the groin.

We both were suspended for three days. Grace only talked to me on the third day and she merely said, “Thanks.”

Now that I was armed with a bulldog reputation, neither Grace nor I ran into any trouble for the whole two months left of school. Sweet victory!

Christmas Vacation/Holiday, 1995 Santa Clara

My parents weren't sure about Presentation High, since Junipero Serra offered high school level education but Grace's parents convinced them after showing them statistics on college entry successes for each school in the area. Chris was quite unhappy about heading off alone to all boys Bellarmine, but wisely kept his disappointment to himself.

We weren't too keen on an all girls school, but the magic of having a new best friend along with me made it all seem worthwhile. Grace's dismay over starting yet another new school grew slightly when she learned that she only shared two classes with me; tenth grade Honors English and Honors Algebra II. In my book, that meant my two most difficult classes had a partner that I could understand and respect.

Christmas vacation was a played-down affair this year, as we had a paper to finish that was due the day we returned from vacation. Mine was on “A Clockwork Orange.” Grace's was on “The Drug War: Are We Winning Yet?”

If I knew then what I know now, I would have bit into both more heavily. It's funny how popular culture can strike a chord with us and we don't even know why.

I remember my parents watching Star Trek: Deep Space Nine and being totally wrapped up in it. It made sense to me that everyone was against the Cardassians and the Romulans, then the Dominion. The Dominion in particular had the Founders, a secretive group of shapeshifters who thought themselves better than everyone else and ruled not for money or even for power, though that was an end to a means. They wanted all of us 'solids' eliminated.

Looking at how that fits into my current viewpoint, it frightens me that the science fiction dystopias have always held a kernel of truth; the most frightening parts, naturally.

We are too near A Clockwork Orange today. We are nearer 1984 than we know. More truthfully, we are just about at Animal Farm with this whole Kyoto Treaty farce. Industry bad, debt slavery good.

Grace was just about done with her report when I gave her my Powderburns: Iran, Contras and the Drug War book by Celerino Castillo. I helped her go through it and pick out how it fit with Nixon, Reagan, Clinton and the Bushes.

She got an "A" and I got a "B+" because I had “gone too far afield to bring up parallels.” My bad for being thorough, I guess.

Just after lunch - Honors English period, April 22nd, 1996 Presentation High, Santa Clara

Sister Valle turned her back to write on the board, so Carrie Anne took the opportunity to throw a note at Grace. I caught it easily, thanks to her telegraphing her intent with three different glances past my gaze. I opened the note.

Furious, I crossed her lame limerick out and wrote back:

I hit her in the head with the note and watched her read it and discreetly give me the finger.

Grace noticed and whispered, “Eyes of sky blue that are meant to watch my back always; may I never be where they can't see me.”

“Eyes of cinnamon red that are meant to watch my back always; may I never be where they can't see me.”

“You both have eyes that should be up front,” an angry voice added in.

Sister Valle was not pleased by our constant conversations during her lectures. For some reason, we never got more than a talking to. Grace said it was because she always asked questions to see if we were paying attention and we always had intelligent answers. It was a theory, anyhow.

“Tell me, Ms. Llewellyn,” Sister Valle pronounced perfectly in her booming voice, “why did Bigger kill Mary?”

I knew she had me flat-footed, but that didn't stop me from easily knowing the answer to that particular question.

“She would have talked, Sister Valle”

“And what would she have said?”

My silence told her all she needed to know.

“I see. Ms. Miao?”

“That he'd been intimate with her, Sister Valle?”

“Are you asking me? Were you not paying attention? In a complete sentence this time, tell me how intimate.”

Grace almost took too long, but finally responded, “Bigger Thomas had kissed her and didn't want her to tell her blind mother about it. It was a thoughtless murder.”

Sister Valle's countenance didn't waver, though she did turn around before announcing loudly, “Ms. Miao, be so kind as to bring Ms. Llewellyn up to speed before next class.”

My face must have been quite telling, as Grace put her hand on my arm to calm me. I looked at her for a moment and found I couldn't be upset with being shown up a bit.

“Smartypants.”

“I certainly hope not.”

Seeing her deliver that straight-faced nearly got me detention for giggling in class.

Late afternoon, July 4th, 1996 Llewellyn's, Santa Clara

Grace and I sat together with Chris and his friend Mike on the lattice-covered deck in my backyard. Some fireworks had been going off nearby though it was illegal to do so.

The four of us were looking forward to the Great America show, clearly visible from our backyard. Mike kept telling Chris that he wanted to go up on our roof, but I had said, “not a chance.” Chris was doing well to hold to that.

Grace went to get a couple of Dr. Peppers for us from the cooler and sat right next to me when she returned.

“Siobhan, do you think we will be friends five years from now?”

“What, are you kidding? Of course we will be. We're best friends forever. I've got your back, no matter what.”

I leaned forward for our S.W.A.K. and Grace dropped her smirk and did something she hadn't done before; she closed her eyes.

We kissed chastely, but it lasted longer than usual by a good three seconds. My heart was beating hard, but I chalked it up to having an audience.

“Funny how girls can do that and not be called lesbians, but if guys do it, they are immediately gay,” Mike observed.

I felt the heat in my face acutely as Grace watched me for a reaction. I decided to play it off just as Mike had suggested.

“Yeah, if we were real lesbos, then you'd have known it.”

Grace took a quick drink of Dr. Pepper and held her nose, yelling, “Ah! That burns!”

Her eyes were red and teary after having the carbonation burn her nose. I didn't find it funny, like the boys did, since Grace was neither laughing nor looking at me as the tears fell.

Mid-morning - Calculus B period, June 1st, 1999 Presentation High, Santa Clara

“Who is escorting you to the the Mitty Senior Ball, Shiv?”

“The reason I haven't told you is because I haven't found someone to replace that jackhole Zvonimir yet.”

“If you can't find anyone, I would go with you.”

“You are very sweet, Grace, but I'm sure you have quite a few offers that are better options than taking me.”

“I've had some offers, but my best friend is better than a total stranger, if you ask me.”

Chagrined by her inability to see that having a picture of your best friend in a prom photo would be pathetic, I gave her a less-than-enthusiastic, “You may have something there, but I'm keeping my options open for a little longer.”

Mid-Afternoon, June 1st, 1999, Santa Clara

Grace didn't wait for me after school. When I arrived at the parking lot, her Mustang was gone. I sighed and made my way to the bus stop.

Doing so in a school uniform wasn't my idea of a fun afternoon, as it often led to stares and cat calls as I traveled
farther away from school. Then there were the frequent fliers that talked to anyone on the bus as if they were guests in their own home.

One such 'shame train' denizen decided I looked lonely or something. I didn't see her until she was close enough to block the afternoon sun glaring off the SUV in front of the bus.

She was a late 40s woman with short henna-dyed hair, no make-up, and no fashion sense from what I could tell by her short-alls and puffy short-sleeved blouse with a flowery embroidered placard. She smelled like she'd last seen a shower at least four days ago. My stomach churned.

“Have you any pussycats, Alice?” she asked in an accent that reminded me of Frau Blá¼cher from Young Frankenstein. I resisted the urge to scare some horses and call lightning strikes while still inside the bus.

I looked at her like she was crazy, but she didn't lose her curious expression. Does she really think I'm going to tell her my name?

“May I call you Alice?”

I shrugged and nodded. I doubted that she was a Sisters of Mercy fan, or even an Elton John fan. Remembering that I was wearing my school uniform, I gleaned that her reason from calling me Alice stemmed from the mainly blue and white colors in my tartan skirt. Thanks, Disney. On second thought, her glazed eyes spoke of many hours of listening to Jefferson Airplane in a smoke-filled room. Bad for vinyl, I thought automatically.

“I have two cats.”

Delighted to have found a willing participant in the topic of her choice, she didn't bother to introduce herself and merely drove on. I kicked myself mentally.

“Cats are so much better than dogs, I think. Dogs are so needy. Yip, yip — bark, bark. Yip, yip — bark, bark. It's enough to drive you crazy.”

Indeed, I thought as I suppressed the urge to smile.

“And they eat so much,” she added.

My tolerance for her body odor was nearing an end. Thankfully, I saw us pass up the stop before mine, so I leaned toward the open window and drew a deep breath as I pressed the yellow strip to indicate my desire to get the hell off this crazy bus and jump in a shower.

“Live pretty close to school, yes?”

“Presentation: home of the Prezzy Lezzies! Heh heh haaaa.”

Oh my god, she's crackers and on the hunt. Perhaps she meant Elton John's Alice after all.

“This is my stop. Good luck with those cats.”

“Oh, this is my stop too. What a happy coincidence. Maybe we can finish our talk about pussycats?”

She didn't seem like a bad person, but I was getting the wrong signals. I decided that I was going to run home. Whether she was harmless or not, I was feeling stalked.

The bus pulled away and the woman finally decided to introduce herself.

“I am called Glynnis,” she announced with an outstretched hand.

A car horn startled the two of us.

Grace pulled up and yelled, “Hey gorgeous. Need a ride?”

Glynnis observed, “It seems you have an admirer.”

“She's my best friend.”

“Then you are lucky, twice over,” she remarked cryptically.

I hopped in and Grace sped away. Looking back, I noticed that Glynnis hadn't left the bus stop. I shuddered.

“How did you know, Grace?”

“Know what?”

“That I needed you?”

“I felt guilty for not waiting for you after school. I was selfish and hurt that you didn't want to go to the Mitty Senior Ball with me. I looked for you, but you had gone, so I went to your house and you weren't there. Then I felt stupid because I probably could have found you at the bus stop, so I circled this bus stop a few times until you got dropped off.

“Who was that lady?”

“She called herself Glynnis. She wanted to talk about 'pussycats' and got off the bus when I did. She scared me. I'm so glad you came by,” I gushed.

Grace smiled and winked at me. “These eyes are meant to watch your back always.”

She had a sweet attitude now, but what was that about going to the ball? It's not like I wouldn't go with her. I just wanted to be able to go with my boyfriend and that's not going to happen now.

Early Evening - June 12th, 1999 McNamara's, Santa Clara

Grace came over at 4:30 to pick me up for the Ball. She was angry and dripping tears.

“What's wrong Grace?”

“Could we talk in private?”

I looked at Mom and she nodded, though her face was riddled with concern.

“Let's go to my room.”

Once upstairs, I turned to Grace, who was dressed in a pink cocktail dress that did nothing to play down her voluptuousness. I felt like Strawberry Shortcake standing next to a Chinese Malibu Barbie. She was gorgeous.

“You look amazing.”

Grace turned to thank me, I think, but instead started crying in earnest.

I grabbed my box of tissues disguised as a teddy bear, blew the dust off, then pulled out a few.

Handing her the first two, I sat beside her and waited with my arm over her shoulders. She grabbed my hand and held it tight.

When Grace finally quieted, she began laughing derisively.

“That bastard. Dad, I mean. He told me that if I couldn't get a 'proper date' then something must be wrong with me. Don't most girls lose their virginity on their Junior Prom or Senior Ball? He should be overjoyed that I am saving myself for the right person.

“Chris doesn't have a date either, so he's not even going. He went with me to Prom, so I've no clue why he chose to sit the Ball out. Dad's not telling Chris that something is wrong with him.”

“Your dad is a bit blunt. Maybe he meant that something is wrong with the world if you don't have a date?”

“I honestly believe he meant me, Shiv. He was disappointed in me.”

Grace's face melted into a look of despair that radiated like an open oven and the tears began anew. My heart went out to her and her strange family life, though my own father was almost as aloof and absent as hers.

“Do you still want to go tonight?”

“Oh Shiv, you look so very lovely. I'm sorry for all this.”

“Should I take that as a 'no'?”

She sat back from me and looked me squarely in the eye. I handed her the third tissue.

“I don't believe that I could, Shiv. Could you forgive me? I will still drop you off and pick you up, of course.”

“No. No need. Where I should be is right here, with my best friend when she needs me. Let me go tell my mom.”

Once downstairs, I got a look from my mom that said she knew. Grace's absence and my face must have told the story before I could.

“Siobhan, sweetie, go ask Grace to fix her face, then at least allow me a few dozen pictures. You should have a record of how fantastic you both look.”

The Evening of April 16th, 2005 McNamara's, Santa Clara

Chris and Justine had set it all up.

Grace's brother was never my type, but that had never stopped him from trying after he convinced himself that my aggression was actually thinly veiled attraction. He was so very effeminate, but tried to cover it by using his deep macho voice most of the time. I may reward him with a kiss for what he did tonight.

Justine McNamara had become our friend through Chris and I could tell that their feelings for each other were growing. Hell, she was growing on me, too. Justine had something about her that radiated clarity. She knew herself quite well and everything she said was straight from her heart. I had no doubt that she had laid out the mechanics of this evening.

At about eight, I was setting up an off-campus party at Justine's house with a bunch of her classmates. We were putting together a couple of kegs and half barrels of ice, putting away valuables and pictures, and generally idiot-proofing the house.

As the house began to fill, I started mingling with those who were new to me. I was wearing something cute, but not too casual; a short sleeved pink and yellow tie-dyed blouse with matching socks, my chestnut Ugg Abbies and my favorite khaki capris. Though I had gotten into some truly interesting conversations, I think it was ten thirty when the party really began for me.

The eyes of the room kept turning toward me — no, past me. When the guy I was talking to about the Not-So-Federal Reserve stepped to his right to look around me and caught his breath, I had to turn one-eighty to see what the big deal--

It was my best friend Grace, dressed like I had never imagined I'd -EVER- see her. I sharply exhaled with a ragged low whistle, then drew a very slow breath inward as I took in her appearance.

She and I had locked eyes from the moment I turned around, but I could not help notice that her blue cheongsam with a silver dragon pattern kept catching the light as it slipped across her thighs. Her stare and slight smirk that pulled her thick lips off to the left were that of a predator, but I had no intention to run.

My face must have been glowing like an ambulance roller as my heart leapt with desire, hope and a sudden wish to be in a very much more private setting. Where I lost my face-splitting Cheshire cat smile was when she turned to navigate a chair between us and showed off her white tie-up thigh high stockings and a generous portion of thigh that left little doubt where her leg decided to make an ass of itself. I wondered where she learned to walk like that, then dismissed the thought just as soon as I had thought it.

She's my best friend! Close jaw. Eye contact. Right.

A couple of guys bumped into each other as they made to follow Grace over to my side of the room. You could almost see the movement of blood from brain to groin all around the room as no one took their eyes off Grace.

Some girls were beginning to wear scowls and some guys were smart enough to not openly stare. The effect she had was very potent.

She'd cut her hair since I'd last seen her. She sported an asymmetrical bob that was almost four inches higher on one side and came down in a perfect spiral around the back. Her bangs continued the spiral until it stopped just to the side of her right temple. How she could cut that gorgeous straight blonde hair was something I'd have to ask her in private, because there's definitely a story there.

Grace's cinnamon sugar eyes were smiling, but I could tell from the slight shaking of her freshly-manicured hands that she didn't expect as much attention as she was getting. I took her hand (French-manicure-styled in blue to match her dress with silver tips) in mine and she pressed up close, her hourglass tipping my direction as time stopped for me. She whispered against my cheek into my ear, “Let's go someplace to talk. I have somewhere in mind.” I shivered as my nipples hardened at her whisper.

With that, she nodded to Chris and he led us away from the crowd whose volume was rising quickly, turning into out-and-out chatter about this goddess in their presence and her merely mortal political activist friend. Chris didn't act too differently, but he certainly blushed hard enough. His light brown ponytail swished like a horse's tail, trying to flick away the comments that pestered our backs.

Grace smelled like sweet incense and I could still feel the touch of her large lips on my cheek. I was wondering what this was about, but kind of knew in my heart of hearts that she was going to drop a bomb on me. She kept shooting glances sideways at me as we walked, as if to check if I was still there and still willing. She had little to fear, as I wasn't going anywhere where she was not.

Some guy said, “Damn. Wish I were a lesbo right about now,” but I didn't catch who. I didn't care and dismissed it at the time as absurd, since guys seemed to make the most moronic comments with even the slightest smell of liquor in the air.

Besides, I was too busy being torn between being angry with my best friend who had been gone for over three weeks without answering my calls and blooming desire/curiosity/wonder/concern to mind a meathead like him.

Chris walked over to a room just past Justine who nodded and smiled, then told us to lock it for privacy and security, since that's where most of the computers and stuff were stashed for the night. Chris tried chatting up Justine as I closed the door behind me and I tried to infuse some of my luck into him through sheer will. I closed and locked the door slowly as much to buy time to wipe Chris's cheesy smile out of my head as to give Grace time to find a spot to sit. Nowhere was available but the bed. Was that planned?

When I turned, I still felt like I had stepped into the Twilight Zone. Who was this girl? What did she do with my best friend? I mean, she was a prude and a half who had destroyed the ego of every guy I had ever set up for her for not being good enough. The torch lamp was already turned on, kind of making a slight orange glow across the room that reminded me of romantic restaurants. We didn't talk for a minute and my eyes kept wandering, so I decided to go on the offensive while I still had some footing in anger over being cut out of Grace's life.

“Grace. You. Look. Amazing!”

False start. Number 6 — Offense. Five yard penalty. Second down.

I was no good at this offense thing.

“You like this getup?” Grace offered sweetly with a little bounce and flourish that sent shock waves into my gut. “I was hoping that we could talk about it some,” she continued a little more meekly when I hadn't answered her question immediately.

“I want to talk about it, but more importantly, let's talk about why we're alone in a locked room and why two of our 'no secrets' friends seem to know far more about it than I do. What's going on?”

“I thought you'd know, Shiv. Hasn't it been obvious for some time now?” While she talked, Grace put her clutch purse down on the bed and sat down next to it, exposing clearly those unique thigh highs and smooth skin up to her hip. “We aren't just friends, are we?”

“We're best friends, Grace. You know that,” I hedged.

“Ahh. And that is all?”

“What do you want me to say? That I will drop my man-chasing ways to possibly let a bull run loose in the china shop of our hearts?”

“Something like that, yes. I've felt that you wanted this for so long... at least as long as I've wanted it. Since I was about 11ish and started becoming a woman a bit ahead of you, you've always tried to find an excuse to come up to my room when I'm dressing. And when I shower before a time when you're supposed to come over, I find you have arrived very early and are in my room when I arrive. Not like I minded, after a time.

“Then there were the times when you slept over and held me 'to feel safe'. God, I had such a hard time sleeping then! Remember back when Ryan broke up with you for not sleeping with him on your twelfth date? I thought for sure you were going to kiss me that night, but you turned your head. I cried when you went home to call him.”

“I didn't know what I wanted back then. I thought you had no clue about love, so I was hoping to teach you a little about flirting and such. I wanted you to know that there was a bigger picture. I...” I knew I was in trouble by the way she looked right into my eyes, past the flimsy lies I was holding up.

Grace dropped her pump sandals off her feet, stood up fluidly and walked over to me. It wasn't until then that I noticed the tabi-toed ends to her stockings.

As she drew closer, my face twitched as I felt shivers chase each other all over my body. She took my hands and put them on either side of her face, just under her ears and said up to my face in a low voice, “Kiss me.”

I didn't want to. I lie. I wanted nothing else, but I knew that if this didn't work out, our friendship might be over. I tried to distract myself by trying to tune in the teensy far away voices that asked an endless stream of questions, but when she breathed out and I smelled her lip gloss (cherry!), mixed with her own spicy-sweet scents, I snapped my focus to her lovely eyes and leaned in slowly, savoring every soft curve of her face, the smells, the warmth, the ohmygod softness of her lips on mine.

Needless to say, I was having moisture control problems of the highest order. My puffy areolas that had just recently relaxed had now transformed into sweater shredders. I ached for passion. When her breasts touched mine, little areas all over my body tightened in response.

Have you ever been given “The Answer”? I mean, it's like when you hold a baby. The meaning of life — right there — in your arms. POW, right in the kisser. Uhh, well, I think you know what I mean. OK, maybe it's kind of like having a gyro while in the Middle East. You just can't eat that commercialized meat paste crap afterwards. You are sold on having flaky, perfectly spiced lamb on your freshly baked pita until the end of time. The Secret Ingredient has been found and nothing else is comparable!

OK, OK, back to The Queen and I.

My lips slid across hers as I tasted cherry and her slightly salty tongue mingling in my mouth. At that moment, I was very, very happy that I was a teetotaler. There was nothing to impair my senses and I was more intoxicated than if I had been drinking all night.

I was so in love with Grace, but I had never allowed that thought to progress beyond friendly love in my mind. Desire, maybe, but in the Girls Gone Wild sort of way that is mainly a show for the boys. I'd never had any dreams that spoke to this core yearning. But if Grace was right...

She slid her hands under my shirt and up my spine, starting at the small of my back. I ran both of my hands through the hair at the nape of her neck and closed my fingers gently to pull the strands smoothly away from her head as we kissed.

Her lips engulfed mine most of the time. It was a wonderful feeling that I wanted no end to. She pulled away reluctantly to say something but I wasn't finished yet, so we made out like summer lovers about to be parted. It seemed like ten, fifteen minutes, but in retrospect, I guess it could have been an hour. Besides, I didn't want to think. Grace was always the one to overthink everything and it was obvious she had thought about this quite thoroughly.

Finally parting, Grace looked up into my eyes and said, “Your eyes are peacock blue. They are the most beautiful eyes ever and I never want to be where they can't see me.”

Realizing that she was modifying our friendship pledge, I responded immediately in kind, “Your eyes are foxy red-brown with radii of creamy white. They are the most beautiful eyes ever and I never want to be where they can't see me.”

After staring at each other and getting seriously teary, I tried her trivia knowledge and fished for more at the same time, “I am Siobhan MacCleod of the Clan MacCleod, and I cannot die.”

Grace groaned and pulled me over to the bed, where she threw me down on top of it. I landed on her handbag and it was hard and lumpy. It hurt! “What the hell?” I demanded as I giggled nervously. She pulled the clasp open and gingerly pulled out two silicone dildos, one peachy, the other checkered red and black — each within its own freezer bag. While my mind and heart raced, she reached back in and pulled out a harness and a bottle of lubricant.

“Where the hell did you get all this?!”

“Good Vibrations,” she told me as if I would know the name. “I don't know about you, but I don't think we'll be needing this,” she remarked with a smirk as she stuffed the lube back into the handbag. “I think you'll like the fleshy one. It's Vixskin. It's the most realistic one they sell.”

I had no idea what the hell she was talking about, since these are the first dildos I'd ever seen that I'd also had the opportunity to touch — or ask questions about, for that matter. I realized that the girl I'd known for ten years has had more going on than I could have guessed at. I knew her almost better than I knew myself, but I didn't know the half of it, it seemed.

That excited me like finding out there was a secret compartment with a saucy diary in it after buying an old trunk from an antique fair. It also scared me because I thought that she knew all there was to know about me. How could I not know the same? Hell, I didn't even know I could get turned on... let me rephrase: I didn't know that girls actually did 'do it for me' until we closed the door. And I just pledged undying love for Grace like it was a matter of course. I didn't doubt her words or mine, but who am I? Watching Grace unfasten the clasps on her cheongsam leads me to think I should think about that a little later. Mmhmm.

Just as Grace was dropping a shoulder suggestively to shrug off her dress, the mood was killed with a knock at the door. An idea sprung into my head with the quickness that desperation affords one in emergency situations.

“Go away!” I yelled with a slight break in my voice. Afterwards, I started a piteous sob and said loudly, “I just don't know what I'm going to do without him, Grace. It's just not fair!” More pseudo-sobbing.

After a few gut-wrenching seconds where Grace rolled over and kept teasing me by slowly hiking her dress up her legs, I decided that they had left and stopped my loud noisemaking-- for now.

“Shiv?” Grace asked seriously.

My eyebrows went up in a “Yes?” gesture. “I want you to take a more aggressive role. I haven't a clue what I'm doing other than what I've seen in movies and read on the web and, umm, what I've been fantasizing about.”

“How so? What do I... Oh!” Grace had pointed at the equipment on the bed and I just boggled. Grace saw the gears turning in my head and beat me to the punch. She slipped the woven nylon and neoprene harness over the silicone members, making a soft of split-level double-ended dildo out of it, then adjusted the angles and looked at my capris with a slight pout. I swear I don't remember removing them, but I do recall one thing very clearly: I wasn't nearly as aggressive as I felt Grace was asking me to be. Somehow I needed to step up to the plate; and fast.

Grace traced her nails down my ribs as I finished unbuttoning my blouse. She moved down to my thigh and reversed to pan up it softly until she slid up under my piratey black “Arrrrrrse!” panties at the hip. She hooked the top and started pulling and I obliged by sliding down the other side. Grace gave an 'ooo' of delight as she exposed my honeyed copper hair, pointing the way to my “O” factory.

I nearly died of embarrassment as she broke the string of slipperiness that my wet panties had drawn away from me with her right hand. She was just grinning ear to ear.

Taking her cue, I touched her shoulder and moved the dress off her shoulder, boggling at the fact that she wasn't wearing any support. She let me move it down to just before her huge breasts before she raised an arm on the side I was pushing down, halting my progress. She held a hand out and then pointed down to indicate that I should kick off my capris and panties.

When I stepped out, she pushed my left leg out wide and looked me in the eye and then again at my bra. She was so gorgeous, I felt like I should be ashamed or embarrassed or maybe I felt unworthy, but it was me she was smiling at; me she was parting as she climbed to the floor; me she was tasting as she slid her hot (oh. my. god.) tongue right around my clit, then down towards my vagina, where the heat of her mouth over my wet lips cranked up the intensity ten times. Caught up in the magic of being with Grace and having wanted this without admitting it to myself, I started to brace myself for a magnificently round capital O.

However, she decided to be a maddening tease. She pulled away and slipped the cool, soft-headed Vixskin into me. I flexed involuntarily on the cooler-than-expected dildo and was sweetly surprised by the give of spongy softness over a stiff core that pushed back.

Wanting to keep the O rolling, as it were, I undid the clasp at the front of my bra and found a nipple to tug on and drop lightly. When she started moving it and sucking at my clit again, I wanted to melt and cry out and clench and lie back and dance all at the same time. Instead, I begged like I was ten years old again and was asking Grace to share the last of her mother's renowned rum fudge brownies.

“Grace? Grace! Please. I'm going to...” I shook as I grasped Grace's shoulder for support and gritted my teeth so I wouldn't cry out (too much), causing Grace to show her perfect white teeth as she watched me orgasm. “That was fast, and worth every penny.”

Breathing hard, I assured her, “I never needed anything but you, Grace.”

As I came down a bit, she looped the harness around my waist and between my legs, pulling tightly to secure my half of the dildo set in place.

I had an erection. I was penetrated. I was trapped, I was in charge. It was my turn. Deep breath. Oh yeah, she's in trouble now.

Grace stood and allowed her dress to drop, then stepped out of her thong. She carefully set both aside over a chair, then moved to untie her thigh highs. I reached out to stop her as I put my blouse and bra on top of her dress. She needed to keep those on. I'd never seen anything like them before and it made me want to know how they'd feel against my own skin as they looked like superfine knitting. Perhaps she'd let me try them next time. Oh yes, there has to be a next time.

She rocked up onto the balls of her feet to start kissing me again and I couldn't protest. It was like I was on a razor's edge between wild giddiness and a seriousness that was trying to draw me into exploring its vast depths. If I went either way, I feared losing access to feeling both at once, so I kept from giggling and I kept from overthinking what I was doing. I focused on Grace.

I kissed her from head to toe and back up again as I lowered her onto the bed, brushing her with my breasts and thighs, teasing her with my checkered member. I was reluctant to kiss her down there until I looked. She had hair almost exactly like mine in form. Flat against her body, swirling toward the source of the tantalizing smell of... cloves? cinnamon? I didn't care. What set us apart was the color. Her mother was Norwegian and her father was from Hong Kong. I remembered that he had some European ancestry as well, and that explained Grace's blonde hair that I got to play with. I parted her legs and knelt beside the bed, just as she had done minutes ago.

Grace put her calves up on the rounded part of my shoulders and drew me into her until I muffled for help. She lit up the room with a giggle as I smiled up at her with a very slippery face. I was focused on her pleasure, trying to reproduce what she had done to me, which felt very much like someone who wrote a question on your back, then you have to write the answer on their back to see if you got it right.

Grace started a low moan as I rubbed circles around the opening of her vagina with my fingertips while heavily rolling my tongue over her erect clit from tip to base. I reached up for her left breast, since she had a hold of the right one, but I couldn't reach it and still be able to do anything with it. As I rose a bit to capture her nipple, Grace moaned, “Yes. I'm ready Shiv. Please.”

My plans changed by the needs of my lover, I stood to steady myself for entry. She was so wet and so was I. I wanted nothing more than for Grace to have an orgasm like I had. I rubbed the outside of Grace's labia and she pushed a little against it to move it in. I decided that I wasn't getting enough movement, so she likely wasn't getting much from it either with so little action going on. I planted my hands aside her chest and sunk into her carefully.

She arched in what I thought was pain, so I pulled out. “What are you doing?” she demanded, though not harshly.

“I'm hurting you?” I offered.

“No. It was incredible! Please come back.”

Once again, I entered and soon started pumping with some gusto, which had the added distraction of having her breasts brush my forearms each time. Grace was moaning from deep in her chest, so I decided to do what I would want if I were her and took her breast into my mouth. I got as far as a whole nipple, areola and all. Jeeze, Grace had the largest breasts I'd ever seen. If I weren't concentrating on flicking my tongue over her nipple while pinching the areola with my teeth and not overdoing it, I'd have time to be jealous.

Grace got LOUD. She was so loud, I stopped what I was doing - - which got wide-eyed pleading. I got back to work and started moving my hips and tongue in circles. Little did I know that doing so would work little circles inside me and hit The Spot. Grace hit full stride and shook and bucked and made me wonder how I could have missed out on this for so long. She was beautiful, wild, open as a spring day, on top of the world. I was running close behind her. I kept at when I finally mastered my convulsions again.

Grace was still spasming when she bent forward and took my breasts into her hands and held them a second before pushing my nipples to within an inch of each other. She then took both into her huge mouth, sucking noisily at first, then flicking and not-too-lightly chewing. My eyes crossed and my toes curled as my nipples, ovaries and clit connected like a live wire through my belly and I went over the falls. I really tried to be quiet. I did! -For the first part.-

So, y'know, we were like at a party. We got quiet just in time for Michael Jackson's P.Y.T. chorus.

We started laughing so hard that we both were in tears.

I pulled out of Grace and lay down next to her, holding her for all the world like she was a life-size teddy bear. I whispered “I love you Miao Ling Grace” so many times that I knew it sounded cheesy, but I couldn't care less about how I sounded. I would have gone out and announced to the whole party that I loved Grace if I'd thought of it. As it was, I just wanted to know what came next.

“I love you Siobhan Ilsa Llewellyn.” Grace moved to kiss me and I welcomed her with an eagerness. I didn't notice that she had thrown a leg over me until she touched the outside of my opposite thigh with the inside of hers. She slid down and breathed a slow breath out to steady herself before she started moving her hips in circles with a harder thrust as she swung forward.

I watched her breasts bobble and her hips grind and felt the movement inside me, never forgetting to thank my lucky stars and everything else I could think of for putting me here with Grace. Mostly, I was thankful to Justine for allowing us her room 'cause one of our parents was always home and we'd have certainly been caught by now!

I watched Grace's face intently. She was concentrating and little beads of sweat were forming on her brow and nose. She was beyond beautiful. She said she's in love with me. I knew I was in love with her. We locked hands and eyes. I tried to shimmy a bit to help us reach orgasm again. She clenched my hands tighter and began slamming hard, using our grip for leverage. Her sweat dripping down her breasts and onto me was so erotic that I yelled “Oh fuck!” as I came again, thereby bringing Grace into synergy as we lost ourselves in ecstasy.

Just after 11pm - April 16th, 2005 McNamara's, Santa Clara

Everything about her excited me whereas before I had thought of her simply as someone to confide in. Someone to go to when the going got rough. Someone to call before doing something new and fun. Someone to tell all my secrets to. Oh jeeze. How wrong I was about her. How wrong I was about me. So giddy in love; with a girl.

“Grace?”

“Yeah?”

“You said that I was doing inappropriate things when we were kids. What kind of things?”

“Well, for starters, you used to sneak into my bedroom at night through the window and claim that you couldn't sleep at your house. Do you remember?”

“I do,” I said through a wistful smile.

I began to remember feeling safe and warm, but turned on? Maybe not at first. I remember it being more of a slight jealousy on my part. Grace was developing sooner and faster than I was and it fascinated me as much as it made me want to be her instead of me. The boys and girls at Junipero Serra Jr. High certainly noticed every bit as much as I did. By high school, everyone in the world noticed her. Some older jerks with their pants dropping off their asses hounded her at the mall twice during her sophomore year, leading her to start wearing clothes that were, in a word, prudish.

Grace fixed her cinnamon forest gaze on me and continued, “It means a lot to me that you recall those times. A few years later, when the 'girls' reached their final size (thank God), you looked at me a lot in that manner, you know? It got me thinking that you wanted more, but I was not yet ready. I was sure I liked girls in the way that I thought you liked me, but my confidence was shaken when you started talking about boys.”

“Grace, I talked about boys because I thought that's what we were supposed to do. I mean, It never occurred to me to try anything with a girl until-- later. You never objected to me bringing boys up, but I guess you never truly participated much in those conversations either, in retrospect.”

“I dunno Shiv. When you started dating Craig in 8th grade, I was so crushed. I thought we would be together when we were ready for dating. So I waited instead of getting pissed through Craig, Rick, Zvonimir, Paul, Ruben--”

“OK, OK! I understand. I'm sorry. It's just that I never found what I was looking for, so I shopped around, y'know?”

“Well, if you'd have looked a little harder into the eyes of that girl in the mirror, you might have discovered a lesbian staring right back! Instead, it seemed like you were trying to look good for what you thought you wanted. You've always had your own style and on top of things in music and politics and computer stuff. It made things harder for me, in a way. People notice you for your style and personality and confidence. I get noticed for my hair and tits.”

“And your ass. And your legs. And your lips. And your smile. And the way you are thicker than average, but have no rolls, no cellulite, no chub! It's sickening! You have the body of a fertility goddess and you are easily the most beautifully unique looking girl around these parts. I've wanted to be you so long that I didn't know that what I really wanted was to be with you.”

After a happy, deeply thoughtful silence, Grace muttered, “I'm cold.”

“I thought you'd never ask! But, umm... could we lose this harness thing or switch it? I don't think I've ever felt so smooshed down there.” Grace smiled sweetly (my God, she could stop traffic with that smile) and removed the equipment teasingly slowly.

Grace licked the Vixskin dong up the side and licked her lips before popping it into her mouth a couple of times with spit and my juices trailing from the tip before slipping it into herself and adjusting the straps to fit her slightly wider hips. I felt tingling fireworks where just a few moments ago I had been feeling stars of rawness. I wanted her more right now than I did the first time.

Sometime before 2am - April 17th, 2005 McNamara's, Santa Clara

We stayed up pleasing each other, sleeping, teasing each other, sleeping, showering together, having shhhh!, and finally got tired enough to start talking again.

“Muh jaw is killing meh,” I bitched.

“Not enough that you won't shut up and let me sleep,” Grace giggled.

I felt like we were 11 again, bugging each other until we fell asleep in the wee hours of the morning.

“So Mew Ling Grace, where'd ya learn ta do tha stuff?”

“Did you just call me 'Mewling'? Ugh. I haven't heard that name since grade school.”

“I tole you my jaw kills! So talk.”

“I haven't done half of this stuff before with anyone but myself. Aren't I a sad picture? A girl has opportunities chasing her all over the place and she's the one to take her own virginity.” Grace looked hard at me, as if to gauge how I might take such news. She didn't want to give me a guilt trip, but I knew she hurt from waiting so long.

“You feel I'm responsible? Is that why you left your classes? Left me?”

“In a way, yes. It seemed like the string of guys would never end and I was hanging on the best I could. You even accused me of being a lesbian a few times and I kept looking at you like, 'Yes! And?', but you turned away every damn time.”

Grace's eyes started filling with hot tears, but she dabbed at her eyes with a towel she'd procured from the shower.

“Grace, honey. I'm sorry. If I knew then what I know now, I never would have teased you and I certainly wouldn't have been dating around, looking for who I'd already loved the whole time! Can you forgive me? I need to be forgiven, because

Grace shook her head at my cheesy “scatalogical” brain and had to laugh. “Of course I forgive you, my love. It's just that it will take time and lots and lots of sex to forget about it.”

I noticed the strained smile at those words, even though they sounded playful. “As your best friend and your official pain in the neck for life, I do solemnly swear to love you until I die, whereupon I will haunt your wrinkly ass for waiting ten extra years to drag me out of the closet and tell me how you felt.”

The smile Grace gave me spoke of hope and satisfaction as she picked up my hand and laced her fingers with mine.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

We were starving. It was 3AM and no one was stirring in the room outside. I brought my hand up to the lock and gently turned it, then pushed down on the handle to open the door.

Beyond, the hall was mostly dark, with a light coming from the kitchen showing me that clean-up hadn't yet been attempted. Behind me, Grace whispered, “Hurry. My tummy's growling bad.”

In the hall, the damage wasn't so bad. The living room was a disaster area. The kitchen was relatively untouched, but a keg dominated the floor in front of the refrigerator. Moving it wasn't an option if stealth was to be an option.

As tired as I was, I couldn't help singing to myself in my elated state:

A thought struck me as I headed into the next verse. Will it not be a secret anymore? Certainly not between Grace and I, but by now, most people had to know who had attended the party. Why would I care? I don't, I decided.

With a slight rattle of the doorknob, I came back into the room with a bowl of mostly broken barbecue chips. Grace's eyes narrowed with murderous intent at my failure, but with one arm pulling a dark blue sheet up to her chest, it made her look like she was trying to be sexy. I bit back a giggle at her inability to invoke fear and shrugged apologetically.

Placing the bowl between us and picking around the darkest chips, so as to leave them for Grace, I made an offer: “Let's go to Dab Nabb's and get a bite to eat — my treat — then you can tell me all about where you've been the last month.”

“It's no secret where I've been. I told my family to tell you if anything went wrong or you got too upset. Thank you for trusting me to handle myself.”

“I just thought it odd. You usually tell me when you leave the country and I don't think you've ever left without Chris.”

“Chris wanted to come with, but I didn't go out of the country. Dad is still here. I went to San Francisco.” Grace gauged my my expression before continuing. I gave her a slight cock of my head to show her my interest.

“Dad thought I should spend some time with my Aunt Lia. She was married when she was quite young to a very old man named Johnny Ho. He owns a great deal of real estate in the residential area of Chinatown.”

Bursting with questions, I clung to the easily answerable ones in rapid-fire succession. “You have an aunt in Frisco? I hadn't heard of her before. What's she like? Was it an arranged marriage?”

“She's not anything like I thought she'd be. I thought she'd be miserable married to an old man, but she's quite fit and happy and aside from the diabetes and being an old man, so is he. She manages his properties and takes care of all his needs, but he's only ever touched her once, to consummate the marriage. They've had an agreement about that ever since.”

With a little pondering, she continued, “Lia is 50, so Johnny must be 92. They married when she was 17.”

Flabbergasted, I breathed, “Oh my God. I can't even imagine that happening to me. How has she kept it going all these years? What sort of arrangement do you mean?”

“Aunt Lia is a very strong willed person. She hasn't had any problems. As fate would have it, the two are on opposite ends of the rainbow, if you know what I mean. They sorted that out on their wedding night.”

My hand shot to cover my gasp as the analogy hit me. What a world we live in! “It was an arranged marriage of two...”

Grace nodded and continued for me, “...gay people. Can you imagine?”

“Grace, does this have anything to do with,” I hesitated, “us? By us I mean, tonight?”

“Yes it does. I'm really a bit unsure about how to go over this, but I'd have to tell you sooner or later. However, there is a bit of a problem.” Grace looked at me expectantly as she rubbed her tummy.

“Oh! You're starving. I'm starving. Let's get you dressed and—- and-— Is that delicious dreamwear all you have for clothing?”

Grace gave her usual, uplifting, diaphragm-fueled laugh. “No, you nerd. Chris brought a change of clothes for me. We just have to find him, though he's not expecting to see either of us until daybreak at least.”

“Be right back, then.”

I made my way back out into the hall, then picked my way among the cups and paper plates until I reached the bedroom at the end of the hall. The door was closed, so I knocked lightly as I slowly opened it. No one was inside, but there was a duffel bag at the end of the bed. I took it and made my way back, holding it up for Grace as I entered. Her smile told me I had the right object, so I closed the door behind me.

“Grace, your brother wasn't there when I got this.”

“He wasn't? He was supposed to stay with Justine. That was the plan, anyhow. You certain?”

I nodded and Grace gave a look of mild concern. Considering the circumstances, I can understand why she hurried to get dressed, but damn if I wasn't disappointed.

We both went to the bedroom at the end of the hall where I had closed the door behind me. She tapped with her nails a little loudly and there were a few muffled vocalizations. We opened the door to find Chris hopping toward the master bathroom by the light of the hallway with a shit-eating grin on his face and Justine's camisole and boy short panties on.

We looked at each other with shock, until my eyes drew into dark, suspicious slits with Grace's doing the same as we realized Justine was nowhere to be seen in the room.

“Chris! What is going on here?” Grace demanded.

The bathroom door was closed and locked before we could get to it. Grace raised her fist to pound on the door when we heard Justine say, “No. Don't.” Her voice had come from behind us and was quite muffled.

Justine rose out from behind the bed, with only her bra and panties on and a look of resignation on her face. We just stared and waited. Well, I did. Grace backed against the bedroom door and slid to the floor, never closing her mouth once.

Siobhan gathers her friends up for a chat session at their favorite all-night diner/coffee house. Among friends who pledged to hold no secrets from each other, the amount of unknown elements revealed is shocking. Grace lays out a plan that would put distance, literally and on principle, between the four.

At times, this story is not safe for work and truly not acceptable reading for those under 18.

A slightly heavier section of String of Pearls that I hope you'll enjoy.
- Eclectic Kitty

Part Three: New Clear Fallout

Dab Nabb's was a great 24 hour restaurant, but it was even better as a hangout for those who liked to talk. It was nothing but booths with high backs and a line bar, so you could either dine and chat in relative privacy or you could keep quiet and listen for something interesting in the adjoining or opposite booths while taking your meal.

Our conversation was going to need neither. The three corner booths were the only private ones in the whole place and we requested one, even though there were only two other groups there that night; the ever-present Warhammer Fantasy Role-players, pulling another weekend-long campaign and the fabulously disgusting “Nick the Tick”, a slightly well-dressed man who owned all of two suits, wore cheap gold, and always begged for any “buddy” or “darling” within earshot to buy him a drink.

The former were entranced by their gamemaster's narrative. The latter looked our way and smiled, but a withering look from our group was too united a front to surmount, so he sourly turned back around to nurse his coffee again.

Settling in, I asked our waiter, Javier, for my usual French roast fix. He smiled his paper smile and went around the table and got down that the rest of us liked our French roast with sugar cane stirring sticks and a well-fed cow on the side.

When Javier turned and made for the kitchen, we got comfortable. I placed my hand on Grace's thigh and she put her hand on mine with her fingers dropping between mine. I hoped the topography of my section of table might reveal its origins. Chris looked out the window, then around at us. Justine looked at the crusted section of table before me in disgust, then sat upright suddenly as she drew a large breath.

“You first,” we all said at once, everyone looking at each other. We laughed mirthlessly, nervously, and repeated the imperative. Grace was first, so Chris and Justine looked down at the table, then at each other and Chris nodded. I could tell that they were holding hands under the table too.

Justine slouched a little in her seat and said, “I've been lying to you guys since I've known you. I'm really sorry. It's not that I didn't trust you, but I have to be very careful who I tell. Other than family and one other friend, you will be the only people who know and I want to keep it that way.”

She looked at the two of us carefully, asking if we were prepared with her eyes before continuing. Seeing she had our complete attention, she began.

“Grace-- Siobhan-- I was born a boy. More accurately; I'm in transition. Since I was four years old, I've been living as a female. My parents tell me that I insisted upon this and the therapists agreed to allow me to go through my 'stage' unhindered, though I'm not sure what my personal reasoning was back then. I guess I've always just identified with being female.

“I have been taking a supplemental hormone cocktail of one kind or another since I was nine, when I lost my testicles. Right now, I'm on a prescription that will help me be who I am inside, on the outside. My parents tell me that it's just as well, since our family has a history of birth defects. I was no exception, having torsed testicle episodes since I was five before having them removed. I am a woman in heart and mind. The rest of which just has yet to happen, though I'm unsure of my feelings on sexual reassignment surgery right now.”

We looked at Justine and could not believe our eyes. She looked something like Morgan Fairchild (with short, dark brown hair), so she was certainly pretty from where we were sitting. Perhaps knowing her for four years had convinced us that she could be nothing else. Now that I looked at her throat, she did have a slight bump where an Adam's apple would be, but it was just about the only giveaway, if you could call it that. Her mannerisms were no different than any other girl, but a lifetime of practice... This was a lot to absorb.

Happily, we were given time to let it sink in when Javier arrived and quietly poured our coffee. I preempted Javier and turned over the mug in front of me, while looking for him to acknowledge my desire for a fill. He was leering at Grace's capital V neck sweater blouse. I kicked his leg when he finished pouring her coffee and he looked at me with shock.

“Since you have now gotten your eyeful of my Chinese girlfriend, would you mind filling this girl's china with some Eiffel, friend?”

Javier stared at me and was taking far too long to unscramble the words for my tastes. I raised a finger between our eyes and slowly lowered it to point at my empty mug as I gave my best “Doi” smile. He knit his brow and stared at the cup so hard that I thought he'd cut it in half with laser beams, but he poured the acidic, smoky brew and left without a word or glance back.

“Weenie didn't even take our order yet,” I groused. When I turned my head back to the table, I saw two wide grins and one perturbed sidelong glare. Oh shit.

Grace blinked away her scornful glare and smiled slowly as she turned to lean in with a small, sweet kiss I happily returned. “You are so unbelievably corny,” she admonished. Her kiss had set me adrift on memory bliss until I realized that Spandau Ballet's “True” was playing in the background. My parents kept every album they bought and PM Dawn was not a favorite, but it was in my noggin now, forever torturing me. O, to forget the cheese I have been subjected to...

Grace pushed my head back to face Justine. Justine. Of course! I gave her my best obligatorily abashed look.

“Anyways...,” Justine started.

“Anyway,” Grace corrected.

“What?” Justine asked.

“Yeah. She's right. It's 'anyway' without an ess,” Chris helpfully added.

With a look to Chris that said 'zip it' in no uncertain terms, Justine continued brightly, “So, are there any questions?”

Plucking up some initiative to show Grace I truly was paying attention to the conversation at hand, I asked, “So why was Chris dressed in your cami and chonies?”

“Umm... Wow. I... I guess it's time for the whole truth, if that's OK with you Chris.”

Thinking himself clever, Chris responded smugly, “Yeah. I'm cool. Just leave out the parts where I might get in trouble.”

Justine smirked playfully and backhanded the ball squarely into Chris's court. “OK then, the floor is yours big guy. Nothing I will say will keep you out of trouble at this point.”

Grace stopped further conversation with an upraised hand as she was the only one to notice Javier making his way back with his head down, but pencil ready over an order pad.

“I would like to apologize for making an ass of myself and hope you continue to patronize our restaurant. The manager has allowed that everything tonight will be free.”

Grace pinched my leg when I started grinning and got a yelp out of me, which alarmed Javier enough to drop his pad and pencil, which in turn made the tabletop gamers look over and finally notice two girls more than one guy could handle.

Alas, they recognized us and went back to their gaming, having tried all their tired lines and failed too many times before. Chris and one stick figure with coke-bottle glasses raised a hand to each other by way of greeting. This helped Javier be less embarrassed, so he leaned down to collect his pad and pencil, which got him a very pointed look from me as I wagged my finger under the table, in case he peeped.

To his credit, Javier did not look anywhere but his pad and asked us for our order, though he surely knew what we would say by now.

“Chili cheese fries, four forks, four side salads, lots of ranch dressing in side cups. Thanks Javier,” I ordered. It seemed the usual would be OK, even with the free meal ticket we'd been offered. I got no complaints. Javier wasted paper by jotting it down, then took his leave quickly.

“You are mean, Shiv. He's just doing his job,” Chris admonished.

“Mean is my middle name when it comes to people who impose on common decency.” My eyebrows popped up to emphasize my relish in dealing with such fools.

Eager to draw us to another focus, Chris asked, “What is it you consider decent about us?”

Grace interjected, “Let's get back to the subject, hmm? Why were you wearing pants and a camisole, Chris?”

It was not a question that would go unanswered with that tone in Grace's voice.

“I was getting comfortable on the floor when I noticed that Justine was bending over to get me an air mattress out from under the bed.” Turning pink, he swallowed before continuing. “Anyhow, I saw a thong popping out above the waistband of Justine's pajama bottoms and her pants, so I asked her about it without thinking first.”

We all looked at Justine, who was busy trying to slide under the table. My foot found hers and I pumped it jokingly like I was attempting to reinflate her while making “Pff Pff Pff” sounds and moving my arms like they were using a bicycle pump. Grace groaned next to me. I marked that detraction for revenge later.

Justine sat back up and began to perspire a little. She closed her eyes for a moment before speaking. “He saw my gaff.” Seeing our blank expressions, she went on, “It keeps my held out of the way.”

Grace and I must have looked like a pair of rag dolls on a store shelf because Chris waved his hand in front of us. We gave each other a look to be certain the other had heard the same thing. Check. We nodded in unison at Justine to go on. Chris spoke instead.

“Let's cut to where you saw me, OK? Justine has been through a lot tonight, all things considered.” Seeing us focus on him and taking it for assent, he mentally changed gears to start on another point.

“I've been rather girly all my life. Dad won't have it if I decide to live as a woman. I want to explore that, but I also know that I am deeply attracted to women and how I look now seems to work reasonably well in attracting the right sort." Chris winked at Justine.

"Justine asked me why I couldn't have it all. I didn't have an answer except to say that if Dad found out, he'd go berserk. He wouldn't accept that I was living as a...”

“...lesbian, Chris? Is that what you were going to say? I'm fairly certain that you aren't the only one to know that I am in our family. You might consider that I have thought about that, as you are looking at two.”

“I might be bi.”

“Shut up, my love.”

“Grrr.”

Grace picked up my hand and kissed it, then again turned to face Chris. “Dad's wishes are why we aren't living in Chinatown at Uncle Ho's apartments. Did you know that? We could be staying there for free as family, among people who also speak Cantonese, but he thinks his sister should be a faithful housewife to an old man and nothing more. His hangups prevent us from seeing family.

“Did you know he had me go 'pay our respects' to Uncle Ho before he dies because he wants a place in his will? He figured a pretty girl would woo away a tidy sum of cash from a dying old man — or worse; he has to know Aunt Lia's a lesbian and probably knows I am too, figuring either way, he's golden. Too bad Uncle Ho's as gay as the day is sunny and Aunt Lia's written him off as a bigot.

“You think I care one iota about what Dad thinks? I love him, but he's not quite right in the head, Chris. Don't worry about him. Who you have to justify your life to are the people who have earned your love and trust, and that face you see in the mirror every day.”

Chris took a moment to absorb the bombshell of new information. So did I, for that matter.

Chris mumbled, “I guess you're right. I just don't know where to start and I'm already an adult, so any lasting transformation will go over harder for me. If I get too girly with hormones or surgery or anything else, then I'll likely never get to see Dad again. I desire a place in this world as a woman while being able to go back to being who I have fought to gain acceptance as; an androgynous man. I need to think about this.”

An uncomfortable silence ensued and I fidgeted, wanting to get Grace started on her story again, but I knew that Justine and Chris weren't finished by the way that they were looking at one another.

Grace broke the silence by tapping lightly on the table with her nails. We followed her gaze to Javier, serving tray in hand. We all politely started our salads, which was out of character for every one of us. We all knew that the fries would get cold if we left them.

Grace made Chris and Justine jump as she shot a hand out to block the drizzle of ranch dressing over the chili cheese fries and said, “Shiv!” I knew what she really meant was, “How could you?”

I stopped before hitting more than a few fries and Grace's pinkie. I knew it was bad form to dress the fries in their basket, but we needed a break in the tension. I hoped the focus on me would pop the tightening bubble.

“We're all going to dip them in ranch anyway,” I whined apologetically.

“Maybe you were, but I like dipping my chips, but don't always dip each one.”

“Pshaaawww. I see you double dipping sometimes.”

“What? Are you implying that I use my ranch in an improper fashion?”

“If the chip fits, git, double dip it,” I challenged with a smile tugging at the left corner of my mouth.

“OK lovebirds. It's time to stop. Look, I appreciate what you are doing, but we need to go somewhere from here. Chris wants to go down the path I've taken, to some degree. You two are so in love that you are making me sick with jealousy and it's almost light outside. Can we wrap up some issues, then get back to my house for cleaning?”

All three of us guiltily looked at Justine and began to munch fries.

Feeling like I needed to ask my remaining question concerning Justine and seeing her mouth visibly clear of food for the moment, I cooly asked, “So, what the hell is a torsed testicle?”

She offered me a thankful nod for getting straight to the point. She took a moment to think and said, “I am not sure how to describe it.”

Searching the table over, she settled on the basket of chili cheese fries and a light bulb began to glow brightly over her head. Taking the longest fry she could find, she turned her back to the restaurant.

“OK. So there's a multi-purpose cord that connects each testicle to the body which supplies blood, transfers sperm, fluids, et cetera. It moves like this normally when testicle temperature dictates the need to move closer or away from the body:”

Justine did an inchworm-type movement with the fry to show normal up and down movement.

“Well, when this cord full of tubes twists, it can cut off the blood supply. It typically happens when the testicle itself is twisted or when there is an extra tube present by birth defect that cinches the good one. That was the case with me.”

Here, she flexed the fry vertically as before, but twisted it while doing so. A little oil was expressed and some reddish chili dripped down as the fry made a tight loop in the middle. Chris took in a deep breath and looked to the ceiling as he blew it out slowly.

Justine looked at him and figured enough was enough and popped the fry into her mouth before continuing. Chris coughed uncomfortably.

“This happened to me frequently, but my parents thought that I was doing it to myself. I was sent to that quack shrink long before I ever saw a doctor about it. She tried to get me to love my body as it was, but wouldn't listen when I was telling her that it was hurting me, not the other way around. I suppose my attire and femininity didn't help to convince them otherwise.

“When they finally took an x-ray, my testicles were all but dead. Doctor Sood raged at my parents for not bringing me in sooner when they told her that it had been a problem for years. My poor little balls had been like balloons, blowing up, then shrinking again.” Justine closed her eyes and shuddered with the remembrance of the pain and the vomiting.

“Anyhow, now you know the truth about me. I trust you not to ever repeat this outside the people at this table and to never talk about it without checking to see if you are alone. I really do not hope to ever meet anyone who thinks of me as anything other than a woman.”

We each readily gave our solemn promise never to reveal the secret.

We ripped through the remainder of our salads and the fries, drank another round of coffee, then made for Justine's house.

Just About Eight in the Morning, April 17th, 2005 McNamara's, Santa Clara

“Hey, Justine?” I yelled.

“Yeah, Shiv?” she yelled back.

“I'm looking for your trash, but I can't find it.”

“That's because Chris is on garbage duty. He has the can.”

“OK. Thanks!”

Now that I knew about Justine, I kept looking for signs of male markers. Perhaps a lower voice, or large knuckles or muscles or even a mannerism. Nothing gave her away but that slight lump at her throat that I had to focus on to see. It made things easier to simply forget it. I knew her secret, but it's like telling someone that a tomato is a berry or that a peanut is a bean. People just don't seem to think of those things in those terms in everyday life and so it was with Justine.

I still had questions, but they were personal in nature. Just because she had described her physical problems of the past in detail didn't mean I was entitled to know anything that wasn't offered of her own volition.

That little roadblock was knocked down rather clumsily by Grace, of all people, as I walked toward the back rooms to get the bedding from Justine's room stripped for washing.

“So, was your name Justin before?”

“No. Julian.”

“So why not Julie?”

“It's too similar. I don't know. I was eight or nine and decided that Jules wasn't for me, whether male or female.”

“Do you still get boners?”

I dropped the laundry basket on the carpeted floor with a boom and shouted down the hall, “Grace! What the hell?”

Justine and Grace were quiet for a few seconds as I approached the master bedroom where the two were supposed to be cleaning. I found Justine with her hand wrapped around Grace's wrist for support. The brunette took in a long breath with tears in her eyes and started laughing so hard in her quiet wheezy way that I thought she was going to have an aneurysm.

“Breathe, girl!” I ordered at Justine.

“Interested in more than I gave you last night, my love?” I asked Grace with mock indignation.

“Well, silicone doesn't make babies,” Grace teased.

“Well neither does Justine, apparently, so why are we asking about boners?” I quipped, unable to keep myself from including Justine's new news out of a situation ripe for ribbing.

Justine seemed to lose the ability to breathe for a moment, but finally started laughing audibly while holding her head and moaning about a headache from lack of air.

“You bitch. I'll get you for that,” Justine laughed at me, dashing tears from her gleeful eyes.

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“You couldn't get up the courage to face me.”

From the yard outside the bedroom window, Chris spoke so clearly and calmly that we all jumped, “I can hear what you are talking about and so too can the neighbors, most likely.” He turned his mouth down and nodded to himself like this was sage wisdom and walked away from the fully open window that we had somehow not noticed.

We waited until he had walked off a few steps before we all started laughing afresh. A few seconds had passed before Justine made good on her threat. I got a pillow right upside my head. It was on.

“Could you tell me about your time in Frisco, now that you are out of chores and excuses?”

“Shiv, I want to go live there.”

I stopped smiling. Is she serious? She is. Shit.

“But we just found this love. You and I are meant to be together.” Pressing a clenched fist to my heart and tears starting to form, I clarified, “I can feel it it here, Grace. If you leave for Frisco--”

Grace put her leaned forward and took my head in her hands while smiling at me like a clueless child. “Shiv, my love, I am not planning on living there without you. I looked into it and every course you have is transferable. Not only that, I'm transferring my credits to San Francisco State too.”

“Is that what you were doing for so long? Of course it was. But why do it now in the middle of a semester?”

After taking a moment to put thoughts in order, Grace explained, “You recall me saying that Dad had me go, yes? Unknowingly, he sent me to the very catalyst I needed to break out of my thick shell. I met people and learned things that opened my eyes to who I am. I can't walk away from that. I want you to be a part of that, since you are the very largest factor showing me how my happiness was right under my nose and I merely had to grasp it.”

The tears seemed to be squeezed from my heart and throat as I took in the depth of Grace's words. I got up off the steps and dropped down to kneel in front of her. I threw myself around her and held on like I might lose her if I let go.

“Grace, this is a lot to take in right now. Can I think about the school part? I am with you, wherever you want to go, whatever you want to do. But I'm almost done here at SCU. So are you. Couldn't we hold off until next year?”

Grace waited a bit before responding. “I don't think I could wait that long happily, but I would wait if you truly needed me to.”

“You know what? Show me what you've got when we get to the dorm and I'll make my decision after that.”

Grace hugged me hard and kissed the top of my head, making me smile.

“Now about what happened in S.F.,” I growled.

“Where did I leave off?”

I lifted myself off Grace and picked up her hand as I sat down beside her.

“Tell me about your Aunt Lia.”

“Wow. She is something. She married Johnny Ho in Hong Kong and they knew straight away what was going on. She came out to him and he to her. She agreed to keep up appearances and he agreed to take care of her as family. They had separate bedrooms and no questions asked. She was young and full of passion for life, though Uncle Ho had no lasting lovers so late in life.

“Aunt Lia met a woman named Kelly about two years after coming to the States. She is so very over the top. She cracks wise about anything and everything. You know what's weird about her though? She looks like a little Dark Irish clone of my aunt. The two have the same length and color of hair, the same interests and even the same dress size. It's a little creepy. Promise we won't do that.”

“Are you kidding? Look at us. You have double d's and I barely qualify for C's. Let's not go into the fact that as much as I truly love your new hairstyle, I don't think I have the courage to try something so daring. It looks great on you, by the way.”

“And here I thought you didn't notice.”

“Oh, I noticed every new change in you. I've just been too enthralled to think clearly!”

I laced my fingers with Grace's and looked into her eyes. “I am still floored by the fact that you are with me; that you love me and I love you.” I started tearing up and wrangled the desire to kiss her down so that she could continue. She softly kissed me instead before continuing.

“That's partially thanks to Lia and Kelly. I owe them big time for the way things turned out.”

“How do you mean?”

“The dress, the shopping trip to pick up the toys and the pep talk were all done with borrowed courage all the way. The hair and, erm, finer details were left to me.”

“Wow. Well, how did they learn that you like girls?”

Grace bit her lip and shifted away from me a little so that we were facing each other better.

“I walked into the living room, where they were watching 'Claire of the Moon'. I think they were watching me, more than the picture. Maybe feeling me out to see if I would freak or something because of their lifestyle, you know?”

“I've never heard of that movie. What's it about?”

“We'll watch it sometime. I got to see quite a few recently with Kelly and Lia. They have quite the library, the sauciest of which, I watched on my own late at night.”

“So what did you do that clued them in? Please tell me that they didn't catch you-- you know.”

Grace laughed and patted the air. “Nothing so It was what I didn't do, I guess. I didn't freak, for one. I got very interested. I asked questions like, 'Does everyone really think seeing two women together is such a big deal?' and 'Why do some lesbians look as much as they can like guys?'”

“Good questions. What'd they say?”

Grace collected her memories and ordered them properly before answering.

“Lia thought I was very naíve to think that people wouldn't react to seeing anything out of the 'norm.' Kelly thought that was outdated thinking, since a lot has happened since they were first going out.

“As for the women who took on a more masculine look and even mannerisms, Lia says that sometimes people identify with roles better in a relationship that way. Men do it as well, of course. It's a way of identifying how you interact with others at a glance, so there are no surprises.

“Kelly was quick to contradict Lia by saying that you can't judge a book by its cover and the only real way to get to know someone is to get to know someone. A frustrating, yet honest answer, I guess.”

“Wow. So which one's which between your aunt and her partner?”

“They are like us, I guess. They are both femme.”

“Like two yangs.”

“Wot?”

“Well, there's a yin and a yang--”

“I see,” Grace interrupted. “Yeah, I guess so, huh? Two female spirits that make a whole. Some might say that's unbalanced, but it does complete the circle, so what do they know?”

Grace lifted my hand to her chest and smiled at me with her beautiful white smile gleaming. I melted.

“Your intensity is really surprising to me,” Grace mused aloud.

“What's surprising about it?”

With raised eyebrows that backpedaled her intent a little, Grace explained, “Not surprising in the way that I didn't expect it of you, but in the way that it is all that I had hoped for. I thought you might be open to simply discussing the idea, but I didn't expect you to fly away with me so readily.”

“Excuse me? Who was dressed to kill?” I teased. “Anyone dressed like that was going to get anything she wanted. So if you had any doubt, it wasn't showing on your face.

“Yeah, I was nervous when you walked in with that qipao on, but you had to know that I'd be more than amenable to your whole evening, since you brought the toys.”

Grace blushed hard and nearly took in her whole bottom lip under her teeth, but her smile betrayed her careful planning. Par for the course with Grace.

“Now, whose idea were those?” I asked with pointed interest.

“Aunt Lia was talked into a shopping trip by Kelly and my best hopeful angel visage — a trick I learned by watching you.”

“Oh please. You had your own repertoire before ever meeting me. You had the world thinking you were their little princess.”

“And don't forget it!”

Lifting up her hand gingerly, I got into a kneeling position and kissed her knuckles, slipping my hot tongue between two fingers.

“Uh-h-h-haaa,” Grace vocalized intelligently. I saw her shudder as she recalled the night before.

I could learn to like this brand of torture.

Grace only just composed herself when she caught my self-satisfied smirk. She scowled and took her hand from me quickly, wiping it on my jeans for effect.

“You better not do that again unless you are prepared to follow through. Do you want me to continue or not?”

“I do. I'm sorry,” I lied.

Grace huffed and smiled. “No you're not. I'm serious. That was mean.”

“I never promised to be nice.”

Grace narrowed her eyes at me, which was cuter than any other expression she had.

“Where was I? Ah. We went out for a dress at Lucky Star Fashion Boutique and got it tailored for me, but Aunt Lia and Kelly didn't know why I was getting it or who for. I didn't come out to them at that time, really. I think they thought I was accepting, if not curious. Our next destination cinched it.

“Our trip to Good Vibrations was a bit embarrassing and also a bit overwhelming for the first few minutes. I must have looked like a timid doe facing down a hellbent lorry. They have just about anything you want there and can order anything you don't see.

“Kelly blanched at the Vixskin stuff. She got grossed out at how real it was, but Lia thought it was better than anything else they had for 'getting the job done'. I don't know if she was being political for my benefit, but I knew I wanted to get it, even if you and I never got the opportunity. It was just... neat. Truly, I thought it would be more acceptable to you, seeing as how you had the real thing before.”

I scrunched my nose at Grace and assured her, “I thought it was really neat, but the harness kind of told me that I wasn't with a guy more than the feel of the dildo. In all seriousness, I don't want you to feel like a guy, so I'm OK with the Vixskin dealie-o being the one doing the hidden work or just going without entirely.

“What else happened there?”

“Well, we ate dim sum at Canton on Folsom. It was goooood. Their egg custard tarts were a little too sweet, but satisfying. I have to take you there. Seriously brilliant food.” Grace was practically drooling on the maroon Loreena McKennitt concert shirt that Justine was absurdly allowing her to stretch all to hell. I touched her shoulder and smiled to prompt her to continue and let her know that I was looking forward to fulfilling her wish.

“When we sat down, Lia asked about what I had been talking to the clerk at Good Vibes who rung me up. I didn't want to tell her, but I thought it only fair to tell them that I hadn't gotten it just for me. You should have seen their faces.

“'Dare we ask?' they said at once. I don't like gossip, but these two had me on the spot, so I gave in and told them about my suspicions about you. They got all excited and said we had to go back to pick up the other items I had asked about. So after dinner, that's where we went to get the stuff I brought yesterday.”

“Wow. That's too cool of them. I hope they didn't ask much about me. Did they?”

“Not really, other than your demeanor, your plans for the future and what you looked like." Grace seemed to enjoy watching me squirm under the imagined spotlight, but added, "I was very careful not to mention your name, since I did not want to take the chance that anything might come back to my parents. Then there was always a possibility that I was wrong, though I was certain that was not the case. They are anxious to meet you, if things work out.”

Grace practically glowed with hope and squeezed my hand before continuing.

“We went directly to The Mint after that. It's a karaoke bar on Market. I sang Phil Collins' 'Against All Odds'. I had to pinch myself--

“Wait. You sang in front of other people?”

“Yes, on a stage.”

“Go on,” I prompted as I shook my head in amazement.

“I'm capable of public speaking and performing,” Grace asserted defensively.

“I know that now and I will never underestimate you again. By the way, this is a super turn-on, just so you know. I get to learn more about you than I ever knew existed. I know the bookworm/Computer RPG junkie/math wiz, but I don't know the singer and seductress very well yet. What other tricks do you have up your sleeve?” I grinned, giddy with excitement.

“May I never cease to surprise you,” Grace purred before picking up where she left off.

“I pinched myself to get up on that stage, but it was a thrill once there. I focused on the screen for the words because I was imagining you not taking my confession of love very well. In fact, I was in tears by the first chorus.”

“I had no idea you were so anxious beforehand. I know 'Against All Odds' very well and the lyrics certainly played into that fear. I wish I could have been there to allay your fears.”

“That would have been awesome, though I did get a huge round of applause,” Grace boasted.

“I bet. What else did you sing?”

“Well, it's full of people who want to sing, so I only got the one song, but Kelly and Lia sang 'Something Stupid'.”

“Bad musical tastes?”

“Huh? Oh! No, they sang the song called, 'Something Stupid' by some C.C. Parks. I saw Robbie Williams and Nicole Kidman sing it in a video some years back. Aunt Lia told me who wrote it and that it was Frank and Nancy Sinatra that made it famous, though it has been recorded by many different artists. I think it's gross to sing a love duet with your father.”

“Yeah-ah. No incest, thanks,” I agreed with a sour look.

“She sang it with her brother once, too. Lia told me that they were on the Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour. She thought it was a little strange, but liked the tune ever since.

“Kelly and Lia really hammed it up and even danced a bit without ever watching the lyrics teleprompter. It was so cute and sweet.”

“Can't wait to meet them. Umm, Grace?”

“Mmm?”

“Your hair has always been at least past your shoulder blades and straight as a line. How did you--”

Pounding feet rumbled inside the house and the screen door banged open behind us, Chris barging outside and nearly toppling over me as he made his way out towards the cars parked in the driveway. Close behind was Justine, with a water balloon in each hand.

“Thanks for helping out you two, but I think I need one more chore done before we leave for brunch-- on me!

“Grace, your brother brought these with the hope of getting lucky. I think he should be responsible for any messes that are made with them, don't you?”

Justine tossed a water balloon to Grace that was actually a water-filled condom.

Grace stood and handed me the balloon. “Would you be a dear?”

Taking the makeshift balloon, I saluted Grace playfully and tore after Chris.

“Crap!” Chris swore as Justine and I split up to cut him off from escape from the fenced driveway. He stuck his tongue out to the side and pointed at Justine while making a 'loopy' hand sign near his temple.

I stopped giving chase when a thought struck me.

“Justine?”

“What's up?”

“Weren't you all but naked when we found you and Chris last night?”

She turned crimson and looked all around to see if anyone had heard.

“Nooo,” she insisted threateningly.

“It seems to me that he might not have been far off and if we hadn't arrived when we did...” I let the rest stir in the gutters of their minds.

“Whoa. It wasn't like that! Not like I would say no,” Chris added just before a balloon slapped him in the forehead. It didn't pop even after hitting the sidewalk.

Justine hollered, “Pig!”

With Chris perfectly distracted, I felt free to nail him square in the chest.

Much to everyone's amusement and my mild disappointment, it didn't pop, either.

As much as I wanted to spend my every waking moment with Grace, she had some phone calls to make in order to put her plans to move on temporary hold, pending the outcome of our upcoming discussion. This offered me the window I needed to thank Chris and Justine for making the opening of my closet door a thrilling and painless event.

Just remembering last night together with Grace — ohhh, last night - gave me a sense of restlessness. I wanted Grace and I to be alone again. On the other hand, it caused moisture control problems that could prove to be embarrassing if I didn't stop dwelling on it. Still feeling the effects of last night's lovemaking didn't make keeping it out of my head any easier.

Thank goodness Chris chose to break my reverie like a wet fish in the face. He plopped down next to me on the porch with only a creak of the decking as an announcement of his approach. I guess it was enough or I was just used to the charming pinhead. I didn't even jump.

“So, you and Grace, eh? How's that feel?”

“It feels like a ton of soft, heart-shaped bricks fell on me. Then they whirled around and assembled themselves into a crimson brick road that leads to another, yet no less magical part of Oz. You know, the road Dorothy didn't take out of Munchkinland.

“I imagine it leads to groves of almond and cherry, with Grace swirling their scents and flavors around herself; into herself.”

“Wow, Shiv. That's almost poetic. Why a ton of bricks?”

“Because, Chris, I wasn't sure I liked girls in that way. I am still not sure I could be attracted to any woman but Grace, but I know I have to be with her more than anything else. I feel like a pinwheel that Grace picked up and started running across flowery hilltops with. I was fine all alone with the occasional wind, but now I have direction and I sparkle with purpose and joy.”

“You love her?”

“Uh, yeah,” I sang in my best 'No shit, Sherlock' tones. “We pledged ourselves to each other last night. I don't ever plan to stop doing so,” I added wistfully. “She made me realize that I had been trying to come out to her for years, but hadn't made that final connection internally that said it was OK.”

Chris nodded like he knew exactly what I was talking about. “When she told me about the two of you, I wasn't certain she had the right of it. Then she told me one thing that finally brought my head 'round; she told me about S.W.A.K.”

I looked down guiltily. I had not forgotten, but I had convinced myself that those were like a pinkie swear. Thinking back from my new perspective, I had to cover my mouth to stifle a gasp. We had kissed innumerable times, but had all but stopped when I-- when I had started dating Craig last year.

“Jeeze, Chris. I really had been pushing hard on her. What an ass I was. How callous I was when I started dating boys. Shit.”

“Step back a second Shiv, before you get too wrapped up in guilt. Who is together with Grace now? Who reciprocated your feelings all this time and gave you the space to find yourself? Grace doesn't want your apologies, but I'd wager gold bullion that she'd be grateful for your acknowledgement and thanks.”

“When did you get wise? You know, I hate it when you are right.”

“That's the trouble with you and Grace. You two are always thinking things through to every 'logical' conclusion instead of just getting things out in the open. So busy thinking of what one might say instead of letting them do it themselves!”

Chris's chastisement was hard to take because of the truths it placed before me.

I could see now how I had been using the whole 'sealed with a kiss' device as an excuse to be intimate with Grace. That was closer than I really had a right to be, seeing as how I wasn't being honest with myself or her.

A sick feeling started to come over me; a guilt every bit as strong as the love that we now shared. I knew I had to apologize, no matter what Chris said. I would also thank her in the best way I knew how; I would never leave her and hold her above myself in all things.

Chris noticed the tears welling and started chuckling, bringing a glare from me that I'm certain would have turned him into a pile of ash were it not for the damned dithering of the beams through my tears.

“Explain,” I demanded.

“I know you are thinking about how bad it all looks, but you'll have to trust me about apologising. Grace is on the bleeding edge of ecstasy, so leave her to ride it for as long as she can manage, yeah?”

“You're right. Again. Prick.”

We both laughed and I surprised him with a bear hug. Justine chose that moment to appear at the window in the living room and raised an eyebrow at me. I squeezed Chris once more before letting go.

“I think Justine is a little in the dark. She thought maybe I was being a bit too close to my future brother.”

Chris's look of surprise was almost comical, but his verbal reaction wasn't.

“You two are getting married?” he all but shouted.

“Damn it, Chris,” I hissed. “No, but I see it as an eventuality. I love your sister. She loves me too. I just haven't brought it up with her yet. We're kinda new at this for taking such a big step.”

“Ah. Sorry for losing it, Shiv. Hope I didn't spoil it for you.”

“Who's getting married?” Justine asked as she opened the screen door.

“Nobody,” I retorted firmly as I pointed in toward the house.

“Aww, I love weddings,” Justine lamented.

Chris was grinning ear to ear.

“Justine, we aren't getting married. In fact, you can have Chris all to yourself. We're through.”

Chris moved to stand, but Justine put a hand on his shoulder.

“No. Don't run little rabbit. We have not come to harm,” Justine assured with a monotone that sent chills through me, and probably Chris as well.

“Shiv, tell me who's getting married,” she demanded, though at thankfully lower decibels.

“Nobody's getting married, I told you. Chris was getting ahead of himself, or rather, getting ahead of me and Grace.”

“Oh. So you are getting married eventually, right?”

“I know so. But not right now. You and Chris will be the first to know when we decide, of course.”

Justine had increased the pressure on Chris and he was starting to bow a bit under the constant pressure. She let up just before she looked like she might lose her balance. Chris's face was a mask of irritation with accents of delight around his eyes.

“I'm very happy for you and Grace, Shiv,” Justine effused sweetly.

“Thank you, Justine.”

Now I just need to find a way to apologize without being stupid about it. That and let Grace know that I want a long, bright future by her side without scaring her off.

“The fact of the matter is, I am happy here, where I can visit there without having to play games. Here, I am just like everyone else except in the bedroom, and that's my goddamn business.”

Grace had not been listening without reaction. In fact, I think my right thigh will have a star of finely manicured nail welts as a testament to Grace's verbal restraint.

This installment of String of Pearls marks a breaking point in Siobhan's reminiscences. Grace will recall events that led to Chris and Justine's unusual relationship and the impact it had on her own relationship with Shiv in String of Pearls' next installment.
- Eclectic Kitty (EKitty)

Part Four: The Best Laid Plans

I was talking to Justine about her inheritance and the security of owning gold and silver at the Valley Fair Mall's food court when I caught wind of an almond latte; Grace's favorite. Just as I started to turn my head, I had a pair of very warm hands over my eyes.

Grace's honeysuckle scent cascaded over me and her breasts pressed against the back of my head, as if to make certain that I did not give the wrong answer when a sexy, California girl voice purred, “Guess who.”

“Uhh, Lindsay Lohan?”

Grace shook her chest, bopping me on either side of my head for that one.

Chris muttered, "Didn't need to see that."

Affecting a booming imitation of Emma Thompson, I identified the trickster behind me, “Could it be that my rapturous spirit of joy and beauty has returned to me, gone from my presence all these long hours since the break of day? I name thee, O wily apparition, as none other than Miao Ling Grace!”

The patrons at the tables around us stopped their clinking for a moment to see what the noise was all about. I smiled with satisfaction at having turned the tables on Grace.

She pulled my forehead back with pressure from her forefingers and planted a moist kiss right on my lips. I think I squeaked. Someone started clapping for behind us, but abruptly stopped.

Grace took her hands away from my eyes and looked straight into them as she broke our kiss, whispering, “I love you batty, girl, but don't try to embarrass me unless you have schemed ahead.” She popped her eyebrows at me, then took the seat next to me at the table.

Her boldness took me aback for a moment until I remembered the time that she dared Audrey, Angie and me to drive around with just our bras on, one hot July afternoon after our junior year.

A male and female pair of police officers pulled up next to Grace's cream colored 1969 ragtop Mustang at a red light on Lawrence Expressway and looked over. I sank down and the other girls followed suit, except Grace in the driver's seat.

She looked over at their patrol car and smiled, then used her chest to “bop” her breasts up a couple of times, sending the officers into hysterics as I slipped, ashen-faced, to the floorboards.

Her black-brassiered antics didn't get us into trouble. Looking back, I'm not sure why I thought the police would find anything amiss anyhow, seeing as how we might as well have been wearing swim suits.

Grace was handed her latte by Chris. She put her hand behind my head and started stroking my shoulder-length hair, which was just about all I could concentrate on as soon as she started.

I was lost in bliss until Grace mentioned moving to San Francisco, bringing reactions of surprise from Justine and Chris. Justine's start was understandable, but hadn't Grace told her brother?

Chris scowled a little and almost looked down his nose as he asked, “Why would you want to move there when you live close enough to visit every week end and holiday if you so chose? What's the draw?”

Grace stopped stroking my hair and I could tell she was put a bit on edge by Chris's lack of support.

“It's a matter of personal preference, isn't it? There is a community of people there who take you as you come, rather than fitting you into some preordained pigeon hole.”

I did well to keep the wince from showing on my face, as Grace had argued this point somewhat unsuccessfully to me the previous evening. I'd agreed to go with her anyway. Perhaps that's why she thought to tell them now.

Chris's disbelief showed on his face, as if Grace had just told him that she'd signed up for a two year timeshare in Siberia. Justine just shook her head slowly before attempting to set the record straight on the LBGT community in San Francisco.

“Grace, I have to disagree. I've been there enough to have seen blessings and curses. One thing really stood out to me and that is that the people there are every bit as obsessed with labels and roles as people anywhere else.

“What may have started out as a melting pot of queer culture in the '70s certainly had drawn up battle lines by the '80s. Gay Pride is about shoring up the battle lines for rights and acceptance among the general population, but outside of a parade, you will find divisions among who gets to call themselves what and where it's OK.

“If I were to go into a lesbian bar to pick up lesbian girls and they found out that I wasn't exactly as I appeared, then I would be in almost as much danger as if it were a straight bar, picking up a guy.

“Turning that on its ear, I bet I'd be run out of a gay bar in seconds flat if I tried to pick up on a guy there. At the very least, my reception would be cold enough that I may as well look elsewhere for a conversation.

“As accepting as the community is, it's the same all over, Grace. People like to categorize.

“Shiv, are you looking for more acceptance as well?”

I had a question of my own but it would have to come out another way it seemed, now that I was in the spotlight before the conversation allowed.

“Roles may be harder to find for the trans community, I'll agree, but as open lesbians, I think we'll kinda click right in,” I offered testily.

Grace resumed her stroking my hair and leaned into me a little to show her agreement.

Chris was fidgeting uncomfortably, likely due to the growing tension.

“Well, lovely Siobhan, stunning Grace, you seem to have thought this through, but I think living in a place like San Francisco will show you that the divisions between the different 'alternative lifestyles' are as clearly delineated as those between the cultural districts around the city, or even those between people who share disparate political ideals.

“I believe you won't find life any easier or harder there than anywhere else you go, nor will they be more tolerant, except among friends - which you have here already,” Justine added pointedly to our patient and taut faces.

“I'll be most excited and eager to come visit you in S.F. anytime you are accepting company because I truly love the city. In fact, part of me wishes I were going with you. The fact of the matter is, I am happy here, where I can visit there without having to play games. Here, I am just like everyone else except in the bedroom, and that's my goddamn business.”

Grace had not been listening without reaction. In fact, I think my right thigh will have a star of finely manicured nail welts as a testament to Grace's verbal restraint.

“How would anyone be able to find that out unless you told them?” she asked pointedly.

“Grace,” I intercepted.

She looked at me.

“I think the problem here lies in how you and I are perceived as opposed to how Chris and Justine would be perceived, both here and within a different-- but no less judgmental--” I added quickly for Justine's benefit, “community.”

Grace nodded, but was fired up, so she spoke the words herself in order to check it over for mistakes and fit it within her belief system.

“Attend to this, then Justine: Were you and another man living in San Francisco and, you looking like you do, were stared at, called names, laughed about and whispered around, would you then consider moving here the right decision?”

Justine made to respond and then stopped. Grace was about to egg her on when Justine finally responded, “You have a point. I haven't seen a ton of evidence supporting what you were saying, but I'm not you. The applause over your kiss was because two people were making a public display of affection. If you have had problems with bigoted people, it hasn't been seen by me. I have had girlfriends and I have heard titters and whisperings, but I didn't pay close attention to what was going on.

"I apologize, Siobhan, Grace, for thinking that your experiences were the same as mine."

“Just so, Justine. It wasn't the applause that bothered me. It was the lack of it and the abrupt halt to it that drove the point home.”

“You really think so? Then we shall see if you are right.”

Justine stood up and leaned over Chris, who began to protest lamely until Justine grabbed his head and kissed him firmly and for a good twenty seconds. The only response she got for her efforts was some guy loudly suggesting, “Get a room!” That and some giggles from some girls at the table three over from ours.

Justine looked at Chris with disappointment, realizing only then, with the same look mirrored back at her, that she had forced a public display of affection that he wasn't comfortable with yet.

“Maybe you are right, Grace,” she admitted while still holding Chris's gaze. “Maybe I'm right. The point is that without people like the two of you to break ground, there won't be much change happening. It may be selfish, but I'd love for people to know me as a whole person without the hangups of what is taboo, weird, gay, bi, and all that crap.

“I'm sorry, Chris,” she added meekly before taking her seat beside him again.

“Just some warning would have been the money thing to do. Then we could snog properly,” he added with a growl.

I looked the two of them over and couldn't understand why they just didn't run with their feelings for each other.

“Say, Chris.”

“Yeah, Shiv?”

“You, um, wouldn't happen to have a girlfriend, would you?” I said with a wide grin and some nods, winks, eyebrow raises and a few smooching movements towards Justine.

Justine looked down and smiled shyly, but whether it was from embarrassment or an attempt to hide the extent of her emotions, I was not made aware, since Chris coolly said, “We haven't decided what we are — yet.”

Mrs. Llewellyn put her hand over her mouth and her eyes looked pained.

Not this again, I thought with a growing dread.

She removed her hand and started laughing so hard that I was frightened enough to jump out of my seat and start towards the door.

“Where are you going, honey? You can't leave this family that easily,” she loudly announced while still shaking with mirth.

Grace picks up where Siobhan left off, recalling events around Cretein, then her and Siobhan's family that turned her world inside out.

- Eclectic Kitty

Part Five: Eclectic Drama

Shiv shook my shoulder to wake me and smiled when I stretched sleepily in the late afternoon sun. She was looking at me in that sappy way that I love so much. Her whole being envelops me in love when she does so, making me feel safe.

“Hey there gorgeous,” she gushed.

“Hey there yourself, my love.”

I put my hand on Shiv's belly, excited about the life growing inside her. Our child. Cretein's child.

Shiv was already moving to get off the futon. She still wasn't too bad off for mobility at four months, but she was showing a little.

“I'm going to make some tea. Want some?”

“Yes, please,” I said with as much appreciation as I could put into it.

“Just remember, Shiv,” I called down the hall after her, “no caffeine for you and the baby.”

We were expecting Justine later that night. Justine, who was my brother's one true love, was coming here to collect a boxful of odd bits she'd left behind when they broke up. I was certain she'd left them intentionally.

Within me, a scale of emotion weighed the anger over Justine's hangups that led to their breakup against gratitude for making an overall positive difference in my brother's life. Morality cheated and put its finger on gratitude, leading me to recall the time Chris brought Justine home for 'tutoring.'

Cretin and--

“What's her name?” Shiv prompted Chris.

“Justine,” Chris supplied.

“Justine? Seriously? Mary.

Cretin and Mary, sittin' in a tree
F-u-c-k-i-n-mmph!

Not wanting to die for Shiv's potty mouth, I hushed her with the non-zippered end of my body pillow, knocking her flat to the bed.

“You're horrible, Shiv. What if Mum heard you?”

She pulled the body pillow off her face to catch me mastering a smile that had been messing up my best remonstrative glare. I simply couldn't stay mad at her. She captivated me and her humour was infectious. She waggled her brows from beneath the shadow of the pillow, eliciting an involuntary set of giggles that set Chris on edge.

“If you and Sis are done punching my ego down, you think you could see your way to treating Justine and me with a little respect? How about it, Shit On Loo Smellin'?”

And so another row begins, I thought with growing irritation as I headed to see what the flash across the window was.

“Say, college has taught you something after all. Now you can be cleverly vulgar instead of just plain insulting,” Shiv said flatly.

“Shiv. Chris. Please. She's here.”

“Remember not to embarrass me, Shit On.”

“Only if you remember not to paint my targets so clearly in our verbal warfare, Cretin.”

“Welcome to our home, Justine. I'm Grace. I am most pleased to meet you. Come in and make yourself comfortable in the next room and we'll get started. Can I get you something to drink?”

“I'm fine. Thank you, Grace.”

I gestured toward the sofa, then turned to call up the stairs.

“Chris?”

“Yeah?”

“Do me a favour and bring down your things for class. We're doing it down here tonight.”

I rolled my eyes as Shiv predictably called out, “Is she cute?”

“Shhh!” Chris hissed.

Feeling somehow responsible, I turned to Justine and smiled apologetically.

“Shiv. Please join us down here. We need some work done in our shared classes as well.”

Two hours of lecturing, one large cheese deep dish and one large thin crust ham, mushroom, jalapeá±o and red onion pizza later, the lessons fell by the wayside and we found Justine to be excellent company. She could keep up with us just fine and she had a mind of her own. It was easy to see how Chris was smitten by her, but hearing what Shiv thought later would like as not color my decision on that; and that realization scared me.

Our discussion turned to music and I almost changed my mind entirely about the gravity I'd attributed to Shiv's input.

“Mounting Bros is a craptastic band who have no message and no clue what music is. They are doing what sells and what sells now is voice-cracking wannabes aping the likes of Alanis Morissette at worst and echoing R.E.M. at best.”

Justine held her ground. “Counting Crows' message is all about being who you are and expressing it freely.”

“Really?” Shiv said sarcastically. “Then why is it that they feel the need to tread solely on ground that's already broken?”

I attempted to head her off before she truly got rolling.

“That's not exactly fair, Shiv. Was it not you that informed me of how each band builds on the influences of those that came before?”

“I did, Grace. Build is the key word, though. I feel that this band is good at what they do, but it's not like any other band couldn't reproduce the same results. Where's the contribution?"

“I don't know,” Justine admitted. “I hadn't really thought of it. I just like their music. What's wrong with that?”

“Absolutely nothing. Especially if you are willing to delve into a library of great music that already exists to find what made some bands what they are today. Remember MC Hammer? How about Vanilla Ice?”

“Wha-- Well, yeah I remember them. So?”

The challenge in her voice spoke of a backbone. It put a smile on my face that I wisely kept from Shiv's gaze as she got into lecture mode.

“Many so-called 'artists' blatantly ripped off what had already been established as successful. Rick James was given little more than lip service by fans of 'U Can't Touch This' and Vanilla Ice tried to sweep David Bowie and Queen under the rug when he ripped off their song 'Under Pressure'.”

Justine was politely holding a straight face against Shiv's rather condescending barrage. I couldn't take much more, so I attempted to direct them to calmer waters.

“Shiv has quite the collection of music, if you wouldn't mind listening to music as we study when next we meet.”

The look I got from Shiv was one I'd seen nearly five years prior when I asked if I could borrow a record. Something to the effect of “Touch my albums and feel death. Attempt to remove one from this room and you'll wish for it.”

The pizza boxes needed cleaning up, so I busied myself with that when Chris interceded to avert a fracas.

“Well, maybe you might bring some of your favourites over next visit, Justine. That way, Shiv here would have an idea of what type of bands you'd like that were inspirational to them and bring over a CD the session after.”

Chris could be something of a genius in his own way. Watching Justine and Shiv digest the advice and decide that it was a best fit solution made me proud to be his sister. He had a way of authority that he seldom used, but worked every time. It was a little irritating that Chris had essentially told Shiv the same thing I had, but I chalked that up to her finally getting it through her head that she need only bring MP3s, not her fragile copies.

Something was passing between Shiv and Chris. It had to be the perceived attack on Justine about her choice of favourite band. Then again, Justine was not minding Chris as much as Shiv, so that could also be the case. They needed time alone.

Though Shiv was sensing a person worthy to show off her collection to, Chris and Justine were here for getting to know each other. It's not as if Shiv can help who she is, I mused as I watched her excitedly run off a list of artists that Justine might like.

“Justine, do you need a lift home?” Chris asked curtly while making 'buzz off' eyes at Shiv.

“I drove. Thanks though.”

As Justine collected her things and made to leave, Chris attempted to be as accommodating as possible by offering to carry her books. I noticed that she didn't seem to mind the extra attention and even stroked her hair over an ear to allow Chris to see her smile.

That's the way, I thought with a smirk of approval. Chris doesn't stand a chance of getting away from this lioness.

Shiv and I moved to Chinatown as soon as we had everything squared away with school, which left us with one more year of college for a baccalaureate and two more beyond that for an MBA. It was strange to complete my BS in Business Accounting at SFSU instead of SCU, but it was even worse for Shiv, who was going to need classes during the summer to meet the coursework that SFSU required over SCU's to get her BS in Small Business Management.

I dropped my bid for an MBA the following year when Mum told me about Dad's threat to leave her and cut me and Chris off. Financially, I would be lost at SFSU or even SCU without financial aid and now is certainly not the time to get into debt.

"Tea will be done in a minute," Shiv called from the kitchen.

"Be there shortly," I called back.

Mum and Dad had been fighting for years, but it was largely something that stopped whenever they knew one of us may catch on. It started some time before I came out to my parents. Cretein surprised us all that evening by coming to my defence at great personal risk.

“Dad, I love her,” I pleaded with tears just beginning to drip from my eyes.

“It's not right, Ling!”

“Are you using my Chinese name in some sort of bid to remind me of my cultural responsibilities? I'll have you know that there are Chinese lesbians that--”

“Your name is Miao Ling,” he all but shouted. “Bringing you to America has made you forget your place; forget who you are; forget your family.”

Willing myself to speak was becoming far too difficult. The lump in my throat was choking me. Shiv spoke when I started breathing heavily.

“Don't you see how you are hurting your daughter? She's not loving me to hurt you,” she spat.

“China is changing faster than anyone can gauge, so why do you cling to archaic traditions? Will you arrange a marriage as well? Was yours arranged for you? To Grace, family is the most important thing in her life. She knows who she is and what her priorities are.”

“<Why is she talking when I am addressing my daughter?>"

Mum bristled visibly when Dad used Cantonese to cut Shiv out of the conversation.

“She's her lover, Bruce. Your grandparents on both sides went through a similar push against their culture. 'Quite the scandal', you said. Your parents were betrothed largely because of your grandparents' break with tradition.”

“Theirs was a selfish choice, as was my choice to marry you. However, such a marriage carries with it the promise of grandchildren. What good can come of this?” He unnecessarily emphasized who he was talking about by thrusting an open hand in our direction.

Chris was sitting upon the stairs, listening and thinking as his knuckles whitened and his lips nearly disappeared into a taut line.

Finding my voice, I lashed out angrily, “You have made this life and are responsible for that which you created. You would turn your back on your own flesh and blood? Look at me. I'm one half you and one half Mum. What's inside my heart is nothing I control or would choose to alter. It's simply who I am.”

“Then I have failed as your father. I saw this was coming, but I had hoped it was not as bad as I feared. You wish to live with and bed a woman, then do so where I will not see it, nor hear of it.”

Chris jumped up, strode up within a hand span of Dad's face and looked fiercely down into his eyes. It was the first time I had ever seen Chris physically stand up to anyone. Dad was looking like Dr. Frankenstein, equal parts afraid and proud. It awed us all, I think.

“So you think that it is grandchildren and what people do in the bedroom that makes them good family? Good Chinese? Good people?

“I have been together with Justine for almost a year now, Dad. You haven't said anything about what our relationship means to this family.”

“Chris, please don't--”

“No, Grace. I want to hear what our father has to say about Justine and myself, since he seems to think it's a selfish act to marry someone not Chinese.”

“<You shame yourself with your words, Cretein. I respect your decision to marry whom you choose as long as it results in carrying on our family line.>”

“And if it does not?”

“What are you on about, son?”

“What I mean," Chris slowly clarified, "is that Justine can't give me or anyone else children.”

“She is injured? Sterile?” Dad guessed hopefully.

“No, Dad. She wasn't born a woman.”

Into the thickening silence, Mum spoke softly to Chris, “Cretein, love, you must be joking. Justine's a charming and beautiful young lady.”

“It's true, Mum. Sorry to tell you this way, but Dad is grilling Grace like he has the answer to how life ought to be lived and his child doesn't feature in that picture. Well, neither do I, then.”

“I don't appreciate you keeping that particular fact secreted from us, Cretein,” Mum admonished lamely.

“Frankly, it's not your business. I'd have told you when I knew the time was right and that time certainly wasn't right now. I was hoping to tell you when Justine and I had moved in together.”

“<You are having sex with a man who pretends to be a woman? My son? My daughter confesses her love for a woman? This is not my family.>”

With that, Dad walked out the front door, put on his shoes, then drove off into the night. He didn't call for a week following the row and wouldn't show his face until Chris and I had moved everything out of 'his' house.

“Good evening Mrs. Llewellyn.”

“You girls look like you've been fighting. Is everything OK?”

“Yeah, we've been fighting, Mom, but not with each other.”

“What happened?”

“Could I make some tea and have us all sit down?”

“Sure thing, hon.”

Mrs. Llewellyn was looking quite concerned. I hoped that it wouldn't get as heated as it had been at my home. Any further shouting would likely send me over the edge into true hysteria.

Siobhan made tea for herself and me. Her mother was cradling her ever-present cup of coffee. After a good five minutes of uncomfortable silence, Shiv handed me the milked, sweet Earl Grey. The way she made it was delicious and fortifying, like a love tonic to soothe the cold emptiness my father left.

“Mom? Is Dad around?” Siobhan inquired.

“He's asleep at this hour, hon. He has to work at 4am tomorrow to fill in for Gil, since he broke his arm.”

“Perhaps it's better to tell you first, then.”

“You're scaring me, sweetie.”

“No need to be scared, Mom. I just wanted to tell you about Grace and I.”

Mrs. Llewellyn put her hand over her mouth and her eyes looked pained.

Not this again, I thought with a growing dread.

She removed her hand and started laughing so hard that I was frightened enough to jump out of my seat and start towards the door.

“Where are you going, honey? You can't leave this family that easily,” she loudly announced while still shaking with mirth.

I was shocked into stillness.

“Mom. You knew?"

Shiv was clearly as aghast as I.

“I'm just happy you finally got around to telling us about it. Your father and I will love you no matter what.”

A creaking of the stairs iced my blood all the more.

“I'm trying to sleep, damn it," Mr. Llewellyn's gravelly voice groused. "What's going on?”

“Shiv and Grace are an item, Dan. Did you know?”

“Aww, jeeze,” Mr. Llewellyn said dismissively. “Welcome to the family. Now be a little quieter.”

With that, he went back up to bed and Mrs. Llewellyn started laughing again. I wasn't sure if I hated her parents for being so accepting or envied Shiv so badly that it felt like hate. Either way, I wasn't given time to ponder it overly much, what with Mrs. Llewellyn burying me in a hug that would have done in a less substantial woman.

“Welcome to our family, Grace.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Llewellyn,” I managed to mumble past her shoulder.

“Please call me Alana. Dan loves that you have our last name down pat, but I think being with our daughter merits an upgrade to using first names, OK?”

“Yes, Alana.”

“Oh shit, just call me Mom.”

I started sobbing with relief and 'Mom' held me the whole while.

To say that my sympathy level was withering like a daisy in the Sahara would have been a gross understatement. More like I was thinking that I should throttle my utterly clueless mother, then go hunt down the feckless bigot I got as a father, armed with a two dollar whore sporting an incurable itch.

Grace has trouble in the home, but how did it all go so wrong so quickly? I hope you find this addition to the String of Pearls satisfactory.
- Eclectic Kitty

Part Six: Pity You Can't Choose Your Relatives

With the coming Lunar New Year, I knew I could look forward to four things:

1.The Chinese New Year's Festival and Parade.
2.Seeing more of my family than I knew how to deal with.
3.Being immersed in Cantonese, which I had used in all of two conversations within the past nine years.
4.The World of Warcraft Lunar Festival.

The parade will literally be a blast. In fact, what with the ensuing fireworks and music, it will be the one respite I'll have from the scrutiny brought by my family about my 'friendship' with Shiv. Additionally, I absolutely love the martial arts, paper dragons and thundering drums.

This year, Dad's family from Alberta and New Mexico will be coming to San Francisco to see the parade and spend time with Uncle Ho and Aunt Lia here in San Francisco, then with Mum and Dad in Santa Clara.

The only problem with that is that no one outside our immediate family and my aunts know what Shiv means to me. It's actually hard not to get sad about having to hide my love for Shiv in an age that is supposedly more enlightened than Greek and Roman times.

Shiv had been trying to get me to be as open as I had been during those few months before we moved. But after my father's reaction and Justine's treatise on societal strictures, I was quite uncertain where I stood about shouting my bedroom preferences from the proverbial mountain.

We lost ourselves in our blossoming love and the adventure of finding a place for ourselves in San Francisco. It took a lot of work both ways as Shiv's annoying habit of pointing out cute guys merely became an annoying habit of pointing out cute girls. Our neighbors looked at us with open disdain, due to our easy laughter and noisy lovemaking that took the place of the much less frisky previous tenant, a quiet middle-aged woman who had gotten two months behind on her rental fees. She had creeped out Aunt Lia, in any case.

Our new flat was decorated with posters of Shiv's favourite music idols and some of my collected martial weapons, though the majority were props. In all, it looked rather like a head shop. I vowed to include more of my own style before Shiv installed UV lights.

Across from our microscopic kitchen were our computers, huddled together in a corner of the living room in matching oversize computer desks. Long ago, we'd decided that gaming on computers was a far more economical hobby than going out to see movies. Well, after you'd gotten a computer built, that is.

Shiv's love for World of Warcraft was second only to mine. After her and Chris having pried me away from EverQuest, I'd been so very much hooked. The annual Lunar Festival was the topping of cherries on the cheesecake. I still missed EverQuest, but having gone back twice left me feeling stressed out far more than feeling nostalgic.

As a self-admitted 'alt-aholic', for 28 days running from January 27 to February 14 I'd be running my myriad characters all over, under and through Azeroth to collect ancestor coins. It wasn't extremely enjoyable, but getting to some Ancestors was challenging.

In order to speed up this process, Shiv would be bringing her level 55 Troll Mage, Xarwa, along for the Horde side on Kirin Tor and her level 36 Dwarf Paladin, Siggi, on Farstriders. We weren't tons into the Alliance.

I announced that I wouldn't rest until all my characters had purple, pink and green dresses and teal, blue and black pant suits. I had only three tailors that needed to acquire the red dress and pant suit recipes, but Shiv had groaned about the never-ending travel ahead of us.

As Shiv verbally praised her huge black worg for taking out a bear and spider in a go, I had to smirk. Half the draw of playing World of Warcraft was Shiv's silly, yet charming voice characterisations.

When she settled in near Dun Garok, she began talking out loud to a group of dwarves that she had pulled with her Troll hunter, Jil.

“Don' much care for a backside full o' Arse-enic wit a good helpin' o' ravenous worg, eh?”

Her Troll voice was getting quite good, but I held back telling her, for fear of having to hear it non-stop for the next week. She's a perfectionist, so encouraging her when she's close to her goal only makes her practise all the more. On me.

I looked up and saw her and my crossed foils mounted on the wall. I'd bought one for her in the hopes of training her up to be my sparring partner after I had left the Mallard Fencing Academy team.

Back then, I had impressed my fencing instructors enough that they were pushing me to train for national fencing tournaments in addition to my division matches. While I was honoured and considered myself a capable foil combatant, I declined politely, citing that it would break old man Feng's heart back in Hong Kong to be competing in foil and not sabre. I'm unsure that they felt that held any value as an excuse since they knew as well as I that Mallard had sabre combat training as well, but it was a 'no' any way you looked at it, albeit a polite one.

I think my real reason was that I viewed fencing as a hobby and a good means of defense and fitness. That and there were too many things that needed to be focussed upon as far as my studies were concerned.

Chris, on the other hand, had briefly gone down, then up California to compete in statewide competitions for Kendo just after attaining first dan. His team did not take better than third this year in any one competition, but his teammates gave him high praise for winning six consecutive matches his first time out. He was good and getting better, so he was throwing himself into it.

Dad was furious at first that he would choose a Japanese sport to represent the family name in, until Mum reminded him that fencing was not Chinese either; that and the fact that the class and competitions were in America. Much to Chris's chagrin, I felt it necessary to add that kendo was not so different than sabre, but with a whole lot of yelling and foot-stamping.

Our father had quieted and eventually acknowledged the point, but the subject was a touchy one for some reason that he wasn't willing to share. Par for the course, in retrospect.

The thing that disappointed about seeing the foils on the wall was that it meant I wasn't maintaining my skills and that neither of us were keeping well fit.

With a subdued sigh, I loaded up WoW and settled in for a long ride through Azeroth, hoping that at least getting the Alliance coins wouldn't become the e-peen wagging gankfest it was last year.

Shiv had heard me sigh and looked over just in time for me to change my guilt-dampened expression into a smile.

Aunt Lia had somehow let the cat out of the bag about Shiv's and my relationship. She apologised profusely, but that did little to keep the coming visit from being dicey. I suppose it was better not to hide.

I picked up Uncle Lum, Aunt Josephine and my cousins, Hope, Honor, and Paul from SFO at 06:45, drove them in a minivan we rented for them to meet Aunt Lia, then drove in the Cream Machine all the way down to SJC to collect my Arizonan cousins from Grandmother Miao Le's side, Hector and Alejandro. I found them quite handsome and polite; until they got in the car.

“Hey Grace?”

“Yes Alejan-- err Hector?”

“She thought I was you? Shiiiiit. Está¡ muy feo.”

“Hey, fuck you, puto.”

“ ¡Maricon! Tu tienes manos de chango,” Alejandro spat out before laughing maniacally and making masturbation motions.

I'd had about enough of this crude banter that I knew wasn't going to fly among the rest of the family, even if they didn't understand it.

“Guys! I need to make one thing perfectly clear: You two are not to curse while at my home. It may come as a surprise to you both, but your family expects some semblance of proper etiquette. You'd do well to pretend to be on your best behaviour and represent your branch of our family tree favourably.”

“What'd she say?” Hector joked into the briefly dumbfounded silence.

“Callete, Hector," Alejandro got out with seeming earnest.

“Hey look, we were just screwing around, cuz. You want us to be good? Fine. We can be good. Just know that we are here because Mom sent us and... also because we thought there might be some hot girls in Cali.” He looked me over while wagging his eyebrows and I failed to suppress a shudder.

This is going to be a long week.

“I was just wondering,” Hector chortled, “you know, if you had a boyfriend?”

A disgustingly long week.

Hope, Paul, Honor, Alejandro, Hector and Uncle Lum were lounging about the living room while Shiv and Aunt Josephine were in the kitchen, working on what we may need from the store for the next week. Aunt Lia and Aunt Kelly were currently out to get 'authentic' wor won ton soup for our starving family members from Edmonton and Rio Rancho.

The Pak family had woken at half past seven, but Hector and Alejandro didn't come down the two floors from Uncle Ho's place until a quarter of ten. The day was going so slow that the rest of the week seemed to be looming like a giant shadow across my mental well-being.

I booted up our computers and offered Shiv's computer to whomever wished to use e-mail. We had changed our desktop wallpapers to something more innocuous than a yuri cat-girl and fox-girl picture that Shiv had drawn for hers and my screen cap of Jadzia Dax getting snogged by Dr. Lenara Kahn. I now had Tinkerbell gracing my screen, while Shiv chose a scan of Margrete Arana from her Kommunity FK album cover. She could be so weird.

Absentmindedly, I followed a request by Hector to open up Oblivion when he saw its case among the many other computer role-playing games I owned, as the family began to gather around my desk. Everyone was amazed by the detail and voice acting, not to mention the grand vistas and music. It was hard not to skip past it all, as was normal for me to do when starting up a game.

“What's your favorite character?” Hector excitedly asked.

“My Bretonian Shadow Mage, Temille, is my favourite," I announced proudly. "She is already head of the Thieves' Guild, Fighter's Guild and Mage's Guild.”

“Impressive. What mods do you use?” Alejandro asked, obviously a player as well.

“Ugh. There are too many to list, but I definitely use Obscuro's, Martigen's and Francesco's.”

“Cool. Can I see your Shadow Mage? That's a custom class?”

“Yes, she has a customised class.” I loaded up my last saved game, which had occurred at night at a bandit camp. The bodies of the fallen had been looted all around my Shadow Mage and although it was dark, because of the Female Eye Candy mod by Growlf that I had enabled, a couple of the female non-player characters I had looted just before saving were completely and obviously nude in the moonlight.

I quickly made to load another game, but all eyes had been on my screen, meaning the damage was done.

Uncle Lum cleared his throat disapprovingly and gathered his family into the back bedroom, where Hope and Honor had been staying. Paul had griped that he had seen more elsewhere, but Uncle Lum was having none of it.

Alejandro turned to me, asking, “Was that Exnem's mod? Do you also have Robert's Male Full Body mod?”

“It's Growlf's. And I don't have Robert's.”

“That's cool. I use both, but most people aren't into that kind of realism.”

“Hey Alejandro? I think I need to go apologise to Uncle Lum's family.”

Alejandro balked, “Paul's seventeen and the the twins that got his big ears and huge nostrils are almost nineteen. What's the big deal besides offending the ugly?”

Bristling, I set Alejandro straight on how I felt about his cavalier attitude.

“That attitude is reprehensible. Different is not ugly. I'm going to go apologise. Hector, educate your brother on being different.”

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hector whined.

I cut him off with an evil glare.

“Ma'am,” Hector said smartly while saluting militarily.

As I rose to call on Shiv, I found that she had been listening by the kitchen partition. Her expression was a scrolling marquee that first said, “We've been caught, my love,” then, “Do you need me to do anything?”

As much as I wanted to rush into her arms and wait for everyone else to simply go away, I felt my backbone straighten up. I shook my head to decline.

“Shiv, could you entertain the boys here while I find my uncle and cousins?”

“As you wish,” Shiv said with a look that oozed love.

Though I love her more than my own life, I get irked that she draws out my passion at the most inopportune of times. I'll see to a proper swatting later.

Giving Shiv a withering look that she knew had nothing behind it, I instead decided to play on her mercies and pleaded with her not to drop any more clues.

Hector and Alejandro had watched the whole exchange and I could feel the heat from the light bulbs that were glowing brightly over their heads. I was a fool for thinking that Shiv and I had planned well enough to dupe my family into thinking that we were merely flatmates.

“So are you Wesley or the Dread Pirate Roberts?” Hector asked in a way that sounded greasy in some way.

Shiv pointed a finger at the boys while she gruffed up her voice to mimic Andre the Giant's Fezzik, “I am here, but soon you will not be here. The Dread Pirate Roberts is here for your soul.”

Hector and Alejandro laughed, allowing me to relax somewhat, now that Shiv had so easily deflected their uncomfortable curiosity with humour.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire, then.

Uncle Lum and Aunt Josephine were helping Hope and Honor gather up their belongings. Bewildered, I tried to grasp how they could possibly have been offended enough to leave. Aunt Josephine spoke before I could begin to apologise.

“I thought something was odd about you when I learnt that the red haired girl had gone to your room to retrieve her pyjamas. That could have been an honest mistake. However, it seems that you two are living as sinners and not just 'girlfriends', as Lia put it. What have you to say for yourself?"

Seething with anger over this injustice, I gnashed my teeth before responding, "I don't have to answer to anyone about what I do within my relationships. Your beliefs are not the same as mine."

"Your beliefs? What beliefs? Your pornography and deviant ways will damn you in this Sodom and Gomorrah."

"Sodom and Gomorrah? And who are you? Lot? Will you throw me out to please the men who come knocking? I choose no man because I have that choice."

"Either my sister Lia has shamelessly corrupted you or your parents have failed to impress upon you your duty to this family.”

I was incensed, but not surprised by hearing my father's sentiments echoed so clearly. When I tried to respond, Uncle Lum decided to have a go. The twins and Paul were keeping their heads down.

“<The way you and that girl look at each other shows me that you have fallen under her seduction,> he snapped at the top of his voice.

“<That demoness has cut you off from your destiny, which can only end badly. Forsake her and let us find a man for you.>”

The quickly spoken Cantonese took a moment to digest. The breathing in the room was about the only thing that could be heard for a few heartbeats. Grace closed her eyes to stem the flow of tears as the words all hit her. The accusations and implications burned like red-hot coals in her mind and she lashed out.

“It is you who do not honour our family. All I have done is find the love of my life and you scorn me for that?

“How many Chinese daughters end up given away, sold or worse when a son is desired? I am not only Chinese and I certainly do not adhere to Chinese ideals or even Christian ideals except where honoring my ancestors is concerned. In my chest beats three generations of white <demonesses>. Shall I give myself over to that side? To Aunt Josephine's side? Do I have a choice? She's only one shade yellower than I and your daughters are every bit as light as I am in any case.”

Uncle Lum had been growing redder and redder, his hands clenched into white and pink balls at his side.

Hope's lily-white hand reached out to close her suitcase, causing Uncle Lum to glance down at it. He let out a sad, broken sigh.

“<I don't know how my wife's brother or sister can allow such a beautiful girl to go to waste.>”

Aunt Josephine nodded her agreement with a sour face. "And I'll not become a pillar of salt for you or anyone else."

“Let's go,” he said to his kids. To his wife and I am guessing to me, since his kids didn't speak Cantonese with any fluency, he said, “<We're taking a taxi cab to your brother's home in Santa Clara until we can arrange a trip home.>”

“I can drive you. Don't be silly,” I offered weakly through angry tears.

“You don't want that any more than we do,” Aunt Josephine asserted.

As though we had kicked them out of our home, the Paks waited on the street side for their taxi.

Aunt Lia was furious with her sister for her attack on me, but didn't say more than 'goodbye'. Kelly said, “Ah well. More soup to go around.”

After they'd gone, Aunt Lia told me that Uncle Lum obviously knew about her and Kelly, yet he came down to visit anyhow, meaning that he'd come around again, in time. Aunt Josephine was another story what with her born again zeal.

“Don't lose hope with your family, Grace. It is the glue that keeps us from becoming strangers.”

The next morning, I drove down to Santa Clara in the Cream Machine after Mum called to tell me that Dad had left her to live in Alberta with the Pak family.

I knew it was going to be blamed on me and/or Chris. I found it hard not to blame myself. Mum would have none of that, so we went round and round that morning in an effort to put some reason to Dad's behaviour.

That was when I learnt that my mother had been trapped in an abusive relationship with my father. I didn't recall any signs, so it was hard for me to accept it on its face.

“Your father didn't physically abuse me, Grace. It was the mind games that I was referring to. Always thinking that I was off cheating on him, that fool even had me followed a couple of times and followed me himself on numerous occasions besides.

“Almost as soon as they became available, he got me a pager, then a mobile, then a mobile with a camera built in so that I could prove that I was where I said I would be.

“Have you never wondered why I hadn't any friends? Bruce ran them all off!”

“My God, Mum. I'm sorry; I had no idea at all. Why didn't you tell him to seek help? Maybe you could have asked us kids for help, well, before he disowned us.”

“It was all I could do to keep you and your brother from being involved in your father's madness. Please know that I have never rejected you.

“He blamed me for you becoming a lesbian and your brother turning gay. It's enough to drive me off my trolley as well, the way his mind works.”

To say that my sympathy level was withering like a daisy in the Sahara would have been a gross understatement. More like I was thinking that I should throttle my utterly clueless mother, then go hunt down the feckless bigot I got as a father, armed with a two dollar whore sporting an incurable itch.

“Mum. I love you. I know Dad just left and all, but doesn't that also mean you are free to think and act for yourself?”

“He'll be back later to settle his work and the sale of the house. I have no opportunities for employm-- ." Mum stopped short, literally gobsmacked. "I'll be damned," she said from behind her hand. "Your father has put in for a transfer already, knowing him. I haven't any means of making it on my own. What was he thinking?"

Mum looked completely zonked. Her eyes were sad and strawberry red. Though I was still pissed off about the whole 'me, me me' attitude coupled with the 'choose to be queer' angle she was currently on, I still felt bad for her.

"Whatever shall I do, Grace? How can this be freedom? I feel positively trapped.”

“First off, you can drop the whole idea that Chris and I had some choice in being homosexual," I said brusquely. "If only to make it crystal clear; I did not 'become' anything, nor did Chris 'turn' in any direction. We are who we are. And if you must know, Chris fancies twazzer as much as I do. The hurdle to jump there is that his current girlfriend wasn't born as one. Get over it.”

“Anything else?” Mum asked with irritation.

“Well, yes, Mum. Of course there is always something else. In this case, it's an easy one on your conscience. You have a talent for teaching. English lessons are sorely needed by many people all over this country, especially among the peoples who have only just arrived or who live in cells of culture, only to find themselves trapped there because of the language barrier. Chinatown is one such place. I suppose any public school would be a bit of a tack, but the reward would surmount the challenge, in my opinion.”

Mum got up to put some water on the boil and looked out the kitchen window to the pool outside, its watery reflections of the midday sun dancing upon her face and the ceiling above.

“I love this place, Grace. I love my memories of Cretein and you laughing together and with Siobhan. Your father was ever in the distance, but I guess it didn't bother me that he'd get into his books or lose himself in CNN. If this house is sold...”

I attacked my daft Mum with a huge bear hug.

“Lock those memories up, Mum. Take them with you wherever you go. If you'll allow it, Chris, Shiv and I will help you make new ones.”

I nearly fainted with relief as the doubts and fears were swept away for good with a vanishing, “Told you sooooooo,” as they went. I smiled all over.

Inform the Constitutional Peasants of the farcical aquatic ceremony. I'll be the watery tart that throws a 'sword' to this king.

Justine arrives to collect her belongings after distancing herself from her friends. She finds that she is connected to the String of Pearls in ways that she didn't appreciate before.

Forgot to add that this installment is very much Not Safe For Work. Sorry for adding the warning a little late. 8) Enjoy!
- Eclectic Kitty

Part Seven: Paternity Sorority

“Grace? You're tea is getting cold. Chai with milk and honey, just as you like it,” she enticed.

Checking my hair in the mirror, I saw that it had grown long enough to warrant a trim. My face had done well with the style I've worn for some months now, but it was high maintenance. A straight bob would make me look like anyone else around, were it not for its colour. A short, sleek bob it is, then.

On my way to the kitchen, a rap came at the door.

“Got it,” I called to Shiv, who had gone into the spare bedroom.

Checking the peephole, I saw the expected face that brought me both joy and sadness.

“Welcome, Justine.”

“You don't sound so sure of that.”

“Please come in,” I offered like I meant it-- which I did.

“Thank you. Is there a box I can take with me?”

“I had hoped that we could talk first. Shiv will be out in a moment. Would you care for some tea while we wait?”

“Actually, I just wanted to grab my stuff and go.”

“Nonsense. We've something important to tell you and we have something important to ask of you. Please stay for a spell?”

I could see her searching my face for something. What she expected to find, I could not say. After a time, she relented by sitting down in front of our server computer, opposite our two desks.

“Shiv?”

“Did you get the door?”

“Yes, I did. Justine has arrived. Are you ready?”

“Hi Justine!”

“Shiv.”

“Actually, Grace, could you bring your tea in here for a minute? I think we need to hash out a couple of details before we talk to Justine.”

I blushed a little while I excused myself, picked up my tea from the kitchen, then slipped in to talk with Shiv.

This is nuts. Why did I come here? Why do I feel so angry? So despondent? Despondent? Who says that? Aw hell, I've spent too much time around Shiv and Grace. I want to leave, but I know that if I go, that I'll have to come back another time.

Whoa. That must be my stuff. Ugh, what a heavy box. My favorite sweater! I wonder why Chris never brought it to me. Oh my God, it smells like him.

I shouldn't be thinking such thoughts. I have a girlfriend. This is nuts. Totally nuts.

Just a sniff. Damn, I miss him. Blink. Breathe. Blink. Not gonna cry. Breathe.

Mmm... Silky. What's this? Oh no. Not this.

We had been dating for months, but had been holding at second base. It was maddening. Chris was being a gentleman and I was feeling like I had to measure up to his morals. Not like mine were lacking, but I'm just saying.

Chris was dressing as a woman regularly now and passing reasonably well, but he had a man's personality and that deep voice of him made any attempt to sound girly, sound like Pete Burns. I didn't care, because he was slender enough to fit my clothes reasonably well and graceful enough to learn how to be presentable out in public. So he didn't talk much. [shrug]

I gave him my long-sleeved lemon-lime Hale Bob dress that cost me a bit of begging, but it had only been a bittersweet loss. It looked fantastic on him and the splashy vertical lines helped the silicone-filled condoms with the nipple/reservoir tips we put underneath look genuine. Those took two freaking weeks to get right. I'm just glad he didn't try to compensate by going all-out humongous.

It was one afternoon after we went to go watch a movie together that acting like just a pair of girlfriends in public and a few too many stops at second base blew up into a fight.

“Where are we going with-- this?” Chris demanded in a serious growl, pointing at himself, then me.

I was flabbergasted and set on edge immediately. We'd just come home to my house after a beautiful afternoon of holding hands while walking through the maze-like rows and fragrant roses of the Rose Garden in San Jose. We were in love and it showed, though I was saving my kisses for when we got inside. Apparently, Chris was having issues about something other than today, because I was on cloud nine.

“You are becoming more of a girl?”

“Let's not play anymore. I love dressing up for you and for myself, but I have to confess that I'd throw it all in the crapper if it meant being able to kiss you in public. This dress feels like a prison when we can't be honest about our feelings at any given time. In fact, I think that you may even be using my 'journey to womanhood' as a comfort buffer so that I won't get too close.”

Though his eyes were full of accusations that I was not happy about, his face showed hope somehow.

“Where do you get off telling me that I'm the one who is keeping us 'buffered'? It's you that won't take things to the next step, not me. You always stop short, asking if I'm OK or that you'll stop if I'm uncomfortable. Well, the mood's right in the can each time you say it and after the tenth time I've heard it, I stop trying so hard because I'm pretty sure that's all you want from me.

“Damn it, Chris, I haven't been pushing you away. I've been waiting for you to stop holding back.”

“Then what could possibly stay you from expressing your feelings when we're out together? Afraid of being labelled as different? Queer? A lesbian or worse?”

“Yes,” I said through clenched teeth and angry tears.

“Then we'll stop. As much as I felt at one time that I wanted to become a woman, I now know that I love women so much that I wish I were one. It may be splitting hairs, but I know that I make a poor woman. I don't have to be one to be close to one, and the one I want to be with is you.”

His words confused me. I was getting upset and wanted to throw something at him. Could you blame me for choosing myself? If you were there, you wouldn't. The air was alive like a spring day after a good rain.

We kissed passionately, searchingly, openly. I would uphold no limits to exploring our love and the best way to do that was to show him.

I unbuttoned the dress I'd given him earlier that day and it fell to the floor. The bra and waist cincher were next. I let him handle the black boy shorts and gaff while I lost my shorts and tank top. He insisted on taking off my undergarments slowly.

Getting worried about my parents coming home in about two hours, I tore off my panties and gaff and just shrugged at Chris's slightly disappointed look.

He began kissing me all over, playfully licking at the underside of each breast, nibbling an earlobe, kissing my nipples, kissing the head of my penis, lightly drawing his nails along my hips, hungrily kissing me.

I was mad with passion when he started telling me how beautiful I was and how he'd waited so long for this moment. Maybe he was as nervous as I was, but he definitely wasn't too nervous to stand at attention down there. If you really must know, I was as scared as I was horny. I wanted him bad. It was my first time going all the way, if that's what this was going to come to, though. My inner devil girl was waving me on at third plate to go for home.

Chris and I had been walking toward my room while arguing, so I jumped on the bed and beckoned him with a finger. I shouldn't have bothered, because he was in mid-leap after the first curl of my finger.

Even if he had no problems with an erection, I felt too shaky to get it up all the way, but that didn't stop Chris from trying. He kissed his way down to my penis and started to make light gagging noises as he kept sucking me into his throat.

“Chris. Babe.”

“Mmm?”

“I need to change positions. Cramp,” I lied. I was pretty sure that I was a 'bottom' anyway, so I needed his attention-- elsewhere.

He let me out with a slight 'pop' that made me giggle. Horrified that I might be spoiling the mood, I looked down anxiously, but he was smiling.

That's when he surprised me by flipping me over. My God, he is strong, I cooed inwardly. What came out was, "Oh, yes." Great. Now I sound like I've watched one too many pornos.

He bit lightly at my buttocks and traced his fingers down my spine, then across my waist, stopping at my dimples at the base of my spine.

Hmm. He didn't seem to notice how cheesy I sounded.

Damn if it wasn't driving me crazy that he was being so much of a gentleman. I encouraged him to be bolder with some light moaning whenever he got close to my colorless anus. Yes, I checked. Yes, I knew it was hot. I just needed to get Chris on that wavelength.

I started moving my ass to meet his face whenever he came close enough, but that didn't seem to give him the clue, so I propped myself up on my left arm and started caressing and tugging at the nipple of my right breast. That worked like a charm.

His tongue explored the deep crevice between my full, round cheeks and I felt myself appreciating his attention at last as my cock began to swell.

My lover noticed and vibrated my insides with a low rumble of satisfaction. Moving teasingly slowly, he pulled my penis down and back with his right thumb rubbing the sensitive folds of my flat scrotum.

The sensation of Chris moving that thumb into and around the spot where my testicles used to be as he squeezed and tugged at my hardening cock was almost enough to make me cum.

To add to the energy building inside, he began licking the area where my thigh met my butt, making his way inward, and I barely steadied myself, knowing I needed to wait.

To break me out of his spell, I begged, “Chris, could you touch me; there?”

“Sure thing, love.”

It may be sappy, but I loved it when he called me that.

Chris had plans of his own, it seemed. He pressed two fingers inside the folds behind my erection, then started stroking the shaft from the inside as well as outside.

I was nearly over the moon until he placed a slippery thumb just inside the spasming opening of my ass. I was shocked by the cool enough to be able to hold back yet again.

“Is it all right if I...?” he asked with adorable innocence.

“Yes, but you might need more lubrication than just spit.”

“Got it,” he said, carefully withdrawing his thumb and fingers from me and turning toward his backpack that held his 'normal' clothes. With little more than a zip and a couple of clicks of plastic, he had a very cold, but much more slippery thumb.

“Umm, what was that?” I asked from my face-down position.

“Oh. It's a bit of Liquid Silk that Grace gave me. Said she wouldn't need it anymore.”

“Your sister gave you lube? Anal lube?”

“It's not anal lube, really. It's just a normal lubricant. I didn't ask why she bought it or where or how she was going to use it, and I feel it best to keep it that way.”

He looked like a salesman as he held up the bottle with one hand while his lubricated thumb on the other hand dripped creamy white lube. I smiled at him expectantly until he caught a clue and got back to work.

It was shocking to me that I had found this man, who had the ability to please me so easily, who brought a song to my heart and a laugh to my lips. Now here he was, accepting me for who I am and not what I might be or what I should be or what he wants me to be.

“Are you okay?” he asked as he stopped stroking my back.

“I'm perfect. I love you.”

“Do you want to wait?”

I suppressed a groan and let him have it, “Just keep at it until I tell you otherwise, you charming ass!”

“Straight away, madame,” he chortled. That jackass was toying with my head! I grinned despite myself.

Chris went around in circles, gently pressing inward with each swirl around firing off nerves like a glissando on a piano (think 'Great Balls of Fire'), the ramp of notes echoing in my lower abdomen and urging my pulse on. My breathing fell into the rhythm as well.

When the tip of his thumb entered me, I nearly locked up, but was far too lost in how awesome the other sensations felt to let it last for more than a moment. I relaxed and fell back into the groove when his free hand moved across my back, then my ass and returned to work on my aching member.

“You have the most outrageously sexy figure. I can't get over how sweet your skin is, how smooth your curves are, or how stunningly gorgeous your face is. Even your penis is curved and femininely smooth. You are a wonder to me, which makes you wonderful, I suppose, love.”

All the while he was talking to me in his low sexy drawl, I was concentrating on his thumb, going deeper and seeming to hit a wall of resistance.

I relaxed against it and opened myself to it, but his thumb was feeling hard and a bit invasive.

“Chris?”

“Yes, lover?”

“Could you use something softer?” I asked with a hint of apology in it.

“Right.”

He slowly withdrew and if he didn't know I was a virgin by now, he was crazy. I felt terrycloth cleaning the lube off me, only to be replaced by a hot, wet set of lips and a probing tongue that dove almost as deep as his thumb had been.

I was in heaven. It felt so good I started moaning and pushing back against his face to make him go deeper. That's when I got his teeth. Ow. I winced and sucked in a breath through a grimace.

It wasn't hard to relax again, especially when Chris started going around in circles. It was wonderful and I could have let him do just that all day long, but I needed more for some reason.

“Chris?”

“Yeah, Justine, love?”

“I-- I think want you inside me.”

Think? Pff. I knew I did, but why I felt like a little girl asking for a present that was too expensive, I couldn't tell you. I turned to read his expression and saw his thick erection and his smile. I buried my face.

“Tell me how much is okay,” he offered sweetly.

Won't know unless you try. I tried not to brace myself.

“OK. I'm ready,” I lied again. Why do lovers lie to each other? Because they'd never get any, that's why. I was sure, but I wasn't that sure. God, I hope he doesn't rip me apart with that fat sausage.

He pressed his slippery, cold/warm cock to my opening and changed angles for entry, then pressed inside, a little faster than I was ready for. I heard him go, “Ooh. Sorry Justine.”

I said it was OK, but I think he knew that I was toughing it out. He pressed a little, it started to hurt and I made a little peep of protest.

“This is all wrong, Justine.”

My heart caught in my throat. Was he saying that I was wrong for him? What was wrong? All my fears came rushing into me and started dancing, laughing and singing, “Told you so! Told you so!”

He pulled out slowly and that actually felt really good.

“I think you should be the one on top, so that you can have full control. Besides, how else could I see your beautiful face and play with your perfect breasts?”

I nearly fainted with relief as the doubts and fears were swept away for good with a vanishing, “Told you sooooooo,” as they went. I smiled all over.

Inform the Constitutional Peasants of the farcical aquatic ceremony. I'll be the watery tart that throws a 'sword' to this king. Rowr. Tee hee.

“I think I'd like that.”

He got down onto the bed and I straddled him, helping him to aim at my slightly sore, yet still eager ass. The change in position made a world of difference. I moved back against him and though it was a little iffy at first, that gave way to intense pleasure as I slowly slid onto him.

I started moving up and down, taking him inside a little more each time. His face looked like a painting where the artist had used bold, colorful strokes to capture their favorite emotion: bliss.

I felt him myself allow him past the inner ring that was holding him back before and that's when he tickled my prostate. The explosion of pleasure caused me to raise my eyebrows, throw my head back as my back arched and start moaning in ecstasy. It was as intense as an orgasm, but without the spasms. A whole new level of body and spirit awareness filled me as surely as Chris did.

My hips moved of their own accord in a circle, all discomfort forgotten. Chris had leaned forward and took my right areola into his mouth and started sucking greedily, flicking my nipple with his tongue quicker than I could have believed possible. His hand, covered in lube, started pumping my crescent-shaped shaft as he began rumbling with low moans through my breast.

With every ounce of energy I could gather, I rode up and down and in circles to fit as much of Chris into me as I could manage, hearing my buttocks slap his hips with each drop.

Unable to hold back any longer, I came all over Chris, myself, the bed. I shook and yelled so loud that I'm certain half the neighborhood heard me. I didn't care.

Coming down to earth again, something struck me: this must be how someone came up with super heroes. I felt like I had super powers. This has to be how it feels. I was shaking from it; humming with it.

Chris and I locked eyes and he smiled up at me with his wet neck and wetter belly. He kissed my nipple and it was like a shot of pleasure and pain at once.

“Ow, I think.”

“Ow? Did I overdo it before?”

“No, no. It's just-- sensitive. OK,” I decided, “your turn, honey.”

“No need for that. I've already, uhh, had my turn. I was just far quieter,” he added with a chuckle.

“Is that so? Then why are you still hard in me?” I challenged with a bounce and an involuntary clench that made me shudder with pleasure.

“Regardless, I have had a spectacular orgasm, though nowhere near as intense as yours.”

“Well, if you aren't going anywhere, maybe I could watch you orgasm a second time?”

Shit, I can't believe I missed him having an orgasm. Does that mean we came together? Oh, that is so hot.

“I wouldn't dream of being anywhere but right here with you.”

“Are you sure you don't want to go get cleaned up?” I asked as I made little circles with my hips, brushing his thighs with my ass.

“Very sure!” he wheezed.

Shiv walked out of the bedroom first, looking anywhere but directly at me, which I was quite thankful for, since I was having a hard time getting 'comfortable' due to being all bound up by my gaff at the moment. Though my skirt is knee-length, I seriously hope that my legs are crossed properly.

Grace came out behind Shiv and pushed her toward me. Something is amiss.

Grace rolled the two chairs from their computers around to face me. Shiv sat down gingerly. She put her hand on her belly and seemed to take courage from it. Ohmigod. She's pregnant!

“When? Who?”

“Huh? How did you know?” Shiv, aghast, asked meekly.

Grace fielded that one before I could, “You are glowing, Shiv. Everyone knows.”

“Well, you two tipped me off by being all secretive and then Shiv acted like she needed to be careful when she got in her chair.”

“Right. Well, that's not the chief surprise we have for you, though that's certainly a large part of what's to tell.”

Grace finished her tea in a gulp and put the cup aside.

“When you split with Chris and moved back to Santa Clara, he took it all very hard. He dove into his work and still was only just keeping his end up for the flat you two were renting. When he fell behind, he moved into a small studio in this building on the second floor.

“Chris was making it after that. Had expendable cash, was saving some for a better car, ate healthy foods... Only trouble was that he somehow ended up short for utilities and had not much more than a bed and a desk at the end of the day.

“We wondered where his money had gone, but that is truly of little matter now. The salient point is that he was selling his sperm to a sperm bank out at the Army Fertility Clinic on Cesar Chavez.”

“Hold on a sec. You are telling me he sold his sperm to the army?”

Shiv laughed at me. Until I showed her my 'I'm getting pissed' face.

“Cesar Chavez Street used to be Army Street. The clinic was there before the change.”

“Why'd they change it?”

“Well, it was to honor a true American of Mexican heritage. He is responsible for forming the United Farm Workers. He also was against illegal immigration, but not immigration through naturalization.”

“Shiv,” Grace said like she was irritated.

“All right. History lessons can wait. Jeeze.”

Sorry I asked.

“So what about his sperm? No. Shut up. You went and got his sperm?”

“Yes, but it took some doing and we had to pay full price. Worth it to keep it in the family, hmm?”

“I don't know what to say. Don't they have some privacy policies?”

“Of course they do,” Shiv assured me. “We got a lawyer and she said all we had to do was show them the death certificate and prove that a member of the family was claiming the right to his 'remains'. If you want to get morbid, the way we got them to finally hand it over was to tell them that we were going to bury it with him.”

“You don't look that pregnant. How long ago was this?”

“It was last year. We had to pay an outrageous fee to store it after procuring the right to it, let me tell you.

“Shiv here wasn't ready yet and neither was I, but we have been doing well after my promotion to solutions and integrations manager at Salzmann-Herbst Information Technology Solutions. Since Shiv recently got laid off from Wavefront Studios, we decided to finally do it.”

“Wow. I mean, wow. Chris is in there? A bit of him,I mean? I'm just not sure how to take that. Would he have wanted this if he were alive?”

Grace turned a bit red as her brow crinkled, but she was pretty firm in her answer.

“He fancied Shiv for a time, but I don't think he ever thought of growing old with her to have a family, if that's what you are asking. If we'd have asked it of him, I believe he would have been amenable.”

“Sweetie, we thought this through completely. As much of a pain in the ass as this was, we have had lots of time to think about it and many opportunities to turn back.”

“What does your mother think, Grace?”

I'm not even going to bring up her dad.

“She only learnt of it recently. She wasn't happy at first, because she thought we'd been sneaky about the whole matter. Once we told her how we did it, she was quite happy to have a grandchild on the way that was from her son and would be raised by her daughters.”

“She accepted you, Shiv?”

“Yes. We supported her when Bruce left for Edmonton. She had forgotten that she liked me, but I reminded her that we'd been family since they moved here from Hong Kong.”

“That's the rose-tinted way of looking at it. The fact of the matter is that she thought that Shiv had somehow caused me to be homosexual. I disabused her of this notion and told her that it is not a choice, but choice does remain when it comes to what to do about it; or how to react to it.”

“That's so brave of you. My parents have taken care of me financially. It's out of guilt, mostly, but I can't complain much. They've supported me at least in one major way.

“What are you going to name the baby?”

“Ms. Non-sequitur strikes again!” Shiv announced to no one who thought it was funny.

Stuff it, Grace.

“We were going with Tiberius, but that's such an overused name,” Shiv joked.

At least, I think she was joking. Trekkies or Trekkers or whatever get scary when you question their sanity by asking why they worship a TV show from like, fifty years ago.

“And if it's a girl?”

“Miramanee,” Grace said with an alarming sugary quality to her voice.

“Yeah. That'll go over well in grade school.”

“Oh come on, Justine. We were just kidding,” Shiv teased. “If you had a say in the matter, what would you choose?”

I was surprised to be asked, but the answer came instantly to me.

“Chris for a boy or Justine for a girl.”

“Well,” Grace started snootily, “no self-importance there, then. Eh, Shiv?”

“Oh, come on. We considered it.”

“Nice to know I was thought of,” I remarked testily.

“Look, love, we have gone through hundreds of names, bouncing them off each other and coming up with a rather long list of 'no's, 'no thank you's and 'no way in hell's. We are going to wait to meet the little one before naming him or her. We just wanted your input.”

I was a bit put off that they weren't going to use Chris or Cretein, but they hadn't exactly said that they wouldn't either.

Shiv pushed across the carpet toward me with her chair and put a hand on my knee.

“We want you to have a say because we know that Chris's desire for a family was what came between you two. We suspect it was your inability to have a child with him that made you leave?”

“Well, not entirely, but yes. He wanted his own kids and I wasn't ready for one and didn't want to commit to adopt just yet, either. I never thought of asking you to be a mother for us, Shiv.”

“I'd not want that myself. I don't think I could ever make a baby, then give it up. I'm sorry if that sounds cold. We do want you to be a big part of this baby's life, though. Does 'Auntie Justine' have a good ring to it?”

“It does,” I admitted with a bit if sadness. I don't know if it was for me that I was sad or if I was thinking of Chris and him not being here to see his baby. I guess he decided that he might not have one of his own in any case if he was selling his--

“Why did he sell his sperm if he was planning on having a family?” I demanded.

Grace and Shiv looked like they had been caught in a lie. They looked at me and each other, but didn't answer.

“Hello? What is it?”

Grace moved as close as Shiv and picked up my left hand. Shiv picked up my right. I knew I didn't want to hear what was coming, and they did too.

Grace looked me in the eye at least when she told me, “Chris wanted no one but you. He was prepared to give up on a family if he couldn't have one with you.

“That's not your responsibility, but something he had taken upon himself. No one blames you for leaving him. He just held out hope that he'd be able to win you back. That box you have there is evidence to me that you wanted to at least keep the door open.”

“I did want to keep the option to come back open. Chris was everything to me, but he wanted too much too fast. He was ready to settle down and I wanted to live life a little. I couldn't even see having a pet, let alone a kid.” I was starting to tear up and felt shame for not being there for Chris at least until the accident.

“I have a new girlfriend now and she is starting to ask about a family as well. She hasn't been pressing, but she has put the idea out there. What's wrong with me that I have been avoiding having a family? I'm only twenty-six, but almost everyone around me is settling down.”

“I'm no psychiatrist,” Shiv said, “but I think that you didn't have a very conventional family and that colors your perception of how you think you'll be as a parent and how you may behave in a serious relationship.

“In my opinion, you should throw that out and do for your children what you believe is best. I'm not going to boast about having been raised in a perfect family, but they have qualities that I intend to exhibit when this one comes along,” she said proudly while rubbing her belly.

“I'd have to second that,” Grace added with a smile. “What say you, Justine?”

“I guess I'll have to see when I have a family of my own.”

“Say,” Grace said, the word dripping suspicion, “I thought you weren't keen on having an open same-sex relationship.”

“Well, that is easy to explain. I was wrong-- about what I want in a partner. Chris showed me that I needed to think about someone other than myself. I've also come to a decision about what I'm going to do regarding my transformation, so Desiree and I are not going to be in a 'same-sex' relationship in any case. Besides, she lives in Newark and I spend all my time there, so not it's not like anyone I know is going to find out. And you know what? So what if they do?”

Shiv took in a breath of mock shock.

“Good for you, girl. Welcome to the sisterhood of Tri Pi.”

Shiv and Grace then announced together, "Tri Pi: Once you do, you'll never go back," as if they had practiced.

The pair erupted in laughter, due to my burning crimson face.

“Thanks?” I squeaked.

“I'm sure that's not all you have to tell us about this Desiree--

"Justine,” Grace accused suddenly.

“What?”

“You never did answer whether you could have erections.”

Shiv got up, patting me on the shoulder as she passed.

“More tea, Grace? How about you, Justine? Stay for dinner?”