by Torey
Chapter One
He really stuck out like a sore thumb.
We usually say that all types come clubbing at Grande Illusions. Crossdressers, transgender, gay men, women out for a good time and occasionally a couple looking for a night on the town.
He looked like a lonely businessman in his 50s seated in the area of the club where I served as a waiter...or waitress...depending on your perspective. On nights that I didn't perform, which was most nights, I spent the evening serving the clientele drinks and food.
He was polite and had the club sandwich. He wasn't a heavy drinker. I was a bit surprised when he asked me to come sit with him during my break. I usually refused. Most requests came from drunk men, who well, wanted something a little extra.
I was just glad to get off my feet. Walking in heels isn't anything new for me, but my feet still ached during a long shift.
He asked genuine questions. Why he showed an interest in me, I really wasn't sure. Where was I from? How did I come to work in a place like this...they weren't unusual questions. I heard them all before.
"I'm 32." "I come from a small town near Jackson, Mississippi." "My family would be shocked if they knew."
He was fascinated to find out I worked at Grande Illusions when I was in college. In case you haven't guessed, it's a club that features female impersonaters. They performed every night. Then there were those like me, we worked the tables as "waitresses" five nights out of the week and got to perform on the sixth as the warmup acts for the headliners.
I minored in dance in college, crossdressed and wrestled with transgender issues most of my life. Most of all, I was passable, that made me an ideal employee for Grande Illusions, which also employed actual female waitresses and performers, too, to keep the clientele guessing.
He was fascinated to find out my actual career was in graphic design, but lost my job when company went bellyup in the economic downtown.
"I was just in town visiting the club when the owner asked me if I wanted my old job back," I told him.
I was surprised when he opened up to me. He was 58, an engineer nearing retirement. His wife of nearly 30 years died of cancer the year before. He didn't want to go to a strip club because he felt he was dishonoring her memory. And he said he felt like he would be having an affair if he found himself attracted to one of the women at the strip club.
So hence he came to a club that featured female impersonaters.
"I know it sounds strange," he said.
I told him I wasn't judging. I mean, how could I wearing a T-shirt and a short skirt?
He was amazed when I told him I wasn't on hormones, that I was wearing falsies instead of breast implants.
"Some of the headliners do that," I told him. "Some of them are a bit hard core. If I ever did anything like that, it would be for the right reasons, not for money or for performance sake."
"And what are the right reasons?" he asked.
"If I ever decided I wanted to become a woman," I said, but was a bit embarrassed when I told him.
"Is that something you're considering doing?" he asked.
"I think about it sometimes, but not a whole lot," I confided. "It's not something I'm seriously considering doing. Just a thought I have sometimes."
He didn't seem very shocked. I was a bit surprised when he handed me his card near the end of my break. He also asked me for my phone number, which I scribbled on the back of a napkin.
"Would you be interested in getting a cup of coffee sometime?" he asked.
"Sure, why not?" I said. "But I got to warn you, I don't dress enfemme outside of this place."
He laughed.
"You look very beautiful as a woman," he said. "You should try it sometime."
"Well, you do look different," he said when he took a seat at the table at the coffee shop.
"Told you I would," I said. "No wig, no makeup, not skirt, just me."
"Did you have a late night last night?" he asked.
It was pretty late. It was my night to perform in addition to waiting on tables.
"Of course," I said. "You missed my Gloria Estefan routine."
It brought a laugh from him.
"Wished I could have been there to see it," he said.
"No you don't, just be glad you're not a member of our regular clientele," I said. "Be glad you have a life."
He smiled, but said he didn't have much of one anymore.
"Meant to tell you, thanks for the flowers," I said. "They were the talk of the whole club."
Imagine my surprise when roses greeted me in the dressing room. All of the girls, the fake ones and the real ones, were wanting to know who the mystery person -- man or woman -- was in my life.
"I didn't mean to do something that was the start of a conversation," he said.
"Well, it was sweet," I said as I sipped my coffee.
I asked him how his day had gone. I learned a little about the world of construction, although most of it pretty much went over my head.
I hoped I didn't strike a nerve when I asked him about his wife.
But he seemed more than eager to open up about the woman that captured his heart so many years ago.
I found it interesting that like me, she was from a small Southern town. They met in college and married soon after.
She was a college professor who liked dance and yoga. She was also interested in art and charity work and played tennis and golf with friends from the country club.
She retired early, like he hoped to do, and just began to enjoy life. That was until she fell ill.
He sounded very much like a man full in love. It was a passion I appreciated.
He asked me about my relationships.
There wasn't a whole lot to tell, I said. Most of the relationships I was in pretty much ended up in disaster, although the women I dated were are fun to be with.
He asked me if I were ever tempted to go out with men. I guess because I was a crossdresser and a female impersonator, he thought I might fall into the stereotype.
Then he showed me photos of his wife. She was beautiful, even for one her age. She started off as a brunette, but actually turned gray at an early age, although the gray pretty much suited her.
She wasn't petite, but more on the athletic side. He showed me photos of them at formal events, one of her in a tennis dress and one of them sipping drinks on a boat.
They didn't have any children, although they wanted them.
"It just never happened," he said. "But it allowed us to do things together we probably never would have been able to do, or have the time to do."
One of the passions was boating. The photo with them sipping drinks was on a sailboat they owned at the shore.
"Been a while since I've been sailing," he said. "I haven't been since she passed away."
I told him I'd been to the beach, but had never actually been sailing.
"I was thinking about going Sunday," he said. "Are you off? It would be nice to have someone with me."
Sunday was the one off day from the club. I was a bit reluctant.
But he was so persuasive.
I had to stop by the store before heading to the marina.
I had to ask myself why I was doing this. I also wondered just what his motivation was.
I'll admit I'm somewhat of a reserved person. I kept very little friends. I liked everyone I worked with at the club, especially the "girls".
But none were close that I really confided in them.
I walked down the pier looking for his boat. He called it a sailboat, but it was quite impressive. It looked more like a mini-yacht.
"There you are, welcome aboard!" he said as helped me into the boat.
"Well this is really nice," I said.
"Thank you," He said. "Bought it about 15 years ago. I still have this dream of sailing around the world in it. It was sort of our dream when I finally retired."
That wasn't a dream I could fathom, not as a graphics designer, not as a part-time illusionist. It was a world I wasn't quite familiar with.
"Is there a place where I can change?" I asked, clutching my swim suit and a towel. "I can tell a pair of jeans will be too hot today."
"Follow the stairs," he said, pointing to a door that led down. "The bathroom is on the right, next to the kitchen. And while you're at it, can you fetch a couple of wine glasses."
He pointed to a bottle of win he had in a bucket of ice.
"I'll untie the boat and get us on the way."
Inside the craft was an impressive sight. There was a small bedroom to the left. There was a kitchenette and den in the center and a bathroom, with a tub.
On the wall in the den was a painting of his wife, with the words "Marie" on the bottom of the painting. She was lounging on the side of the boat while they were at sea, wearing a brown swimsuit, white robe, shorts, visor with a pair of flip flops.
I probably would not have made much note of what she was wearing except the very same clothes were hanging on the door in the bathroom with the visor around hook. The flip flops were directly under the clothes as if the owner were going to return.
I stared at the clothes as I took off mine and grabbed my suit.
I then laid my suit down, and for some reason decided to try on her clothes.
I was amazed by how well they fit, right down to the shorts and terry cloth robe. Even the flip-flops were the right size.
I grabbed the visor and a pair of sunglasses that were on the sink. And grabbed the scrunchy and a brush in a small bag next to the sink and put my hair into a ponytail.
"I don't know what he'll think," I thought as I reached for the wine glasses in the fridge. "He'll probably throw me overboard."
Call it a moment of temporary insanity.
I slowly walked toward the door, with fear rushing in my head.
"What's taking you so long?" he shouted.
Slowly I opened the door and walked up on deck. His mouth dropped open for a second and then he smiled.
"I can go back in change," I said.
"No, don't do that!" he said. "Now bring those glasses here!"
I gave him the glasses. He poured wine in each glass.
"I got this bottle at a winery in France," he said as he handed me my glass and put his arm around my waist.
"I think Marie's clothes suit you," he said.
"I don't know why put them on," I said. "I was afraid you'd be mad."
He laughed and then surprised me by giving me a kiss on the cheek.
"I guess I can understand why you would feel that way," he said. "But I've got a confession to make. I actually put them out for you. I was actually hoping you'd be tempted to put them on. Somehow I don't think Marie would mind."
I blushed.
"And I took the bait," I said. "This is all real confusing to me right now."
He apologized for making me feel confused and told me he wanted me to just relax and have a good time.
He brought out some sandwiches as we got further out to see. He pointed out a whale nearby that arose to the surface.
"You don't see things like this on land," he said.
And that I hadn't. He was right. It did relax me.
I found myself cradled in his arms as we watched the sun seemingly set into the sea.
"What time to you have to be back," he asked as nightfall began to engulf us. I was impressed with the stars, how many there were. You didn't see that many in town because of the city lights.
"I don't really have a time to be back," I said. "I don't have to be back at the club until tomorrow night. What about you, Captain?"
I was expecting him to say he would have to be back at work early the next day.
"Well, I'm the boss," he said. "I could call in tomorrow and tell them I'm not coming in."
Suddenly a grin moved across his face.
"Ever spent the night at sea?" he asked.
I laughed.
"You know I haven't," I said. "But if you're game, I am."
"Good," he said. "I was hoping you would say that."
"Well I'm going to have to go down stairs and change," I told him. "I'm feeling a little sweaty and sticky."
"You're not going to put on what you brung are you?" he said, acting disappointed.
"What else do I have to wear?" I asked.
"If you'll check the drawers in the bedroom, you'll probably find some of Marie's lingerie. Her housecoat, I'm sure, is hanging up in the closet."
"You didn't leave those there for me?" I asked. You know I had to ask.
"No, those I didn't," he said. "Those were left in there from our last night out. She used to take a bubble bath and then changed into them before coming back on deck at night."
I smiled and told him I intended to do the same -- which I did. I have to admit, I enjoyed the pampering.
He changed, too, while I was in the tub, into shorts and a bathrobe before returning back on deck.
He was waiting and handed me another glass of wine when I joined him.
"Got a question to ask," he said.
"Which is?" I replied.
"When you wrestled with being transgendered, did you ever give any thoughts to actually living as a woman?" he said.
"There were times when I fantasized what it would be like when I was in college," I confessed. "But I never mustered the courage to do it. I never really seriously considered it."
"Well..." he said. "What if I asked you to come live with me, but only as a woman, would you do it?"
"Are you asking me this for real?" I asked.
"Yes, I am," he said. "You would have to quit the club, that would be a condition. But you could pretty much choose the life you would want to live for a woman you're age. You could even retire if you like."
"Wow..." I said. "You're hitting me with a lot. Would you mind if I took some time to think it over?"
"Yes, take as much time as you need," he said.
"You'd be a fool not to test the waters."
Becky Waters was a wise woman. She hired me twice at Grande Illusions, once as 19-year-old college sophomore. The other as a person in his 30s who was down on his luck.
She knew the man making the proposal.
Frank Cignetti was a respected business man in the community. His wife, Marie, was also well respected, too.
"From everything I'm told, he really doted on his wife," she said.
She reminded me of the long hours at the club, although she told me she hated to lose me.
"I was hoping to bump you up to a headlining position," she said. "I think you've got the potential to hit the big time in Vegas."
I told her I didn't really feel becoming a full-time female illusionist was a career goal.
"But maybe becoming a female is," she said. And she was serious.
"I've often thought you were a classy lady, maybe too classy for here. Maybe you're meant to become a woman, David. Maybe you're meant to become the next Mrs. Frank Cignetti."
That startled me. I'd never been attracted to men, much less marry one. But then again, I never thought of myself as a woman, at least in serious terms.
That was until a few days ago. I found myself dressing more as woman, even when I headed to the club, although I tried to be subtle about it.
I thought of that conversation as I walked through his house. He gave me a key to his house to just look around, to take things in and think things through.
The house was modern in style. It wasn't overdone. It wasn't a mansion, but you knew its occupants lived comfortably.
I explored the kitchen, the living room and the den. Downstairs was what Frank called his "man room." Next door to it was Marie's studio, with plants and art work. It had a ballet barre. I sat down in the window sill in the studio taking in the warmth of the sunlight coming into the room. It was nice.
My thoughts were interrupted when a yellow cat entered the room meowing. She rubbed against my legs. I picked her up and she began to purr. I giggled for a few seconds.
I walked out and saw the hot tub and thought about how good it must feel to be in it from time to time. I walked back into the living room and sat on the couch a few minutes. I picked up some of Marie's books that were under an in-table.
I noticed quite a few pictures of Marie and Frank, a testament to their love, I thought, to their lives.
I walked into the bedroom and saw the king-size bed. I took notice of two dressers and two walk-in closets. Marie's clothes were still hanging up in her closet. I assumed they were also still in her drawer.
I wasn't being critical. If I were in his place, I knew I'd have a hard time putting things away.
Then I noticed to large portraits hanging side-by-side. One was a nude painting of Marie lounging on the couch I sat on in the living room. She was sipping a cup of coffee and holding the yellow cat in her lap.
The other was real photograph. Marie and Frank were building a snow man outside of a ski lodge. She was nude except a scarf, gloves and snow boots. Frank wore full winter gear. Words were written on the portrait: "Christmas, Aspen, 2003."
There must be a story behind it, I thought.
Just then my cell phone rang. It was Frank. He was about to finish a round of golf at the country club and wanted to know if I would meet him there for lunch.
"Yeah, sure," I said. "Meet you at a table outside? Sounds great. Oh yeah, I'm here. It's given me a lot to think about."
I sat on the bed for minute and decided to surprise him. I walked into Marie's closet and started searching until I found it.
What more appropriate to wear to the country club than Marie's tennis outfit? I put it on and was amazed how well it fit.
I went over to her dresser and pulled out a brush and started doing my hair. I noticed a small box on the dresser that contained makeup.
I put base on, with a little blush. I added lipstick, eye shadow and eye liner, but didn't want to over do it.
I hopped in the car, but hoped I wasn't making a big mistake.
"He's expecting you ma'am," the valet said when I pulled up at the club.
Didn't I tell you I was passable?
He was talking to another gentleman when I greeted him out back.
"Carl, this is Debra Murray," Frank said, intruducing us.
Debra, I thought, I was wondering how he was going to get around the name since we haven't discussed what it would be.
I mean my stage name, Cassie O'Connor, might not seem appropriate.
"You can just call me Deb," I told Carl.
"So you're the new woman in Frank's life?" he asked. "I'm so glad he's finally seeing one again."
He didn't know how much of a new woman I actually was.
"Carl, if you'll excuse us," Frank said.
Carl left, leaving us alone while we both ordered club sandwiches.
"So what did you think of the house?" he asked.
"It's very nice," I said. "It sort of opened things up about your life. But there is so much more I've got to learn."
"I understand," he said. "So if you want to take your time thinking about my proposal, it's fine with me."
"Oh that's not what I meant," I said. "I want to learn more about you. And about your life with Marie."
"So what do you mean, then?" he asked.
"I've decided to take you up on the offer," I said. "But on one condition."
"What's that?" he asked.
"If we're ever in Aspen during Christmas, I'd prefer to wear a little more clothes if we're building a snow man," I said.
He laughed.
"No problem," he said with a chuckle. "But I would like to get a photo of you naked on a mink coat on the hood of my Rolls Royce."
"You'll have to get me drunk first," I said with a laugh.
Okay, so he didn't have to get me drunk.
Here I was sprawled on top of a mink coat naked on top of his classic Rolls Royce that he only drove on special occasions. I was holding Pandora, the cat, next to my chest to hide the lack of breasts.
My package, lets just say it was hidden underneath and on top of the mink. No one could tell I wasn't really a woman.
"We're almost done," said Robert, a professional photographer friend of Frank's.
"So where will this one hang, Frank?" Robert asked.
"I was thinking maybe the den Bob," he said with a chuckle.
"Don't let him kid you Robert, this one's going in the 'man room', right next to your other fine work," I protested.
His other work, I forgot to mention? Frank and his Great Dane Caesar sitting side by side on a couch, dressed in matching tuxedos. Marie was lying, pretending to be sleeping in an exact cat-pose on the floor as Pandora, naked and wearing the exact same collar as Pandora with a bell on it.
It was Frank's favorite portrait.
Frank tossed me a bath robe when the photo shoot was done.
I picked up Pandora and held her close.
"One of these days, she won't be the only pussy I'll have," I whispered to Frank, kissing him on the lips before heading into the house.
Frank said a few words to Robert before following me inside.
I opened the refrigerator and bent over to grab Frank a beer and me a wine cooler and felt a cold dog's nose on my bare ass.
"Dammit, Caeser, I swear you think you have the run of the house," I said as I handed Frank his beer.
"You've seen the portrait downstairs," Frank said with a laugh. "He does."
"I'm going to grab me a nice hot bath," I told him before heading upstairs to the bathroom in the master bedroom.
"I forgot to tell you that some of the boys are coming over to play cards tonight and maybe a little pool," Frank said. "That's OK isn't it. We'll be downstairs. We shouldn't bother you."
"That's fine" I said, giving him another kiss on the lips before heading up stairs. "So who is coming?"
"Carl, you've met," he said. "Don and Jack from work are also coming."
I have to tell you, I was beginning to enjoy the life I'd only been living there a few days and it was beginning to feel like home.
I was worried at first that perhaps I was intruding on Marie's space. Her clothes, her studio, her house. But Frank set me straight.
"Think of them as your clothes, your studio, your house, your pets, your vehicles," he said. "You are the mistress of the house, Deb."
That was comforting. We did set a few boundaries. There would be no sex until the point, or if, I had sexual reassignment surgery. Touching, cuddling, kissing, snuggling, we would do if we were comfortable to do it.
And as you've found out from the kissing, we were becoming comfortable with it. A lot was running through my head as I soaking, relaxing in the tub.
Where this journey was leading, I didn't quite know.
My deep thoughts were interrupted by a shout from downstairs.
"Deb, can you get us some beers," Frank shouted. "We've just now gotten the game started."
I rolled my eyes. Can't he wait until I get out of the tub?
I crawled out of the tub and dried off. I pulled on a silk robe and headed downstairs.
I grabbed four beers and walked down stairs to the "man room" and handed Frank and his buddies their beer.
Frank slipped his beer under my robe and touched my ass with his to let me know how cold it was. I jumped and nearly slapped him.
"I hate to ask, but can you also bring us some snacks down?" Frank said.
You've got to be kidding, I thought. Here I am dressed in nothing but a robe and he wants me to make them snacks.
I thought I would teach Frank a lesson. I took off my robe once I got to the kitchen, tied my package a special way where it could not be seen from the back and put on an apron. It had pockets up front where it looked like I breasts.
But from the back, I was naked, completely bare assed.
I chopped vegetables and made sandwiches and dip and brought them downstairs.
Frank had an odd look on his face. His buddies smiled and laughed.
"Care to stick around and join us?" Carl said.
"Maybe I should," I said grabbing a pool stick. I bent over to take a shot. "Eight ball in the side pocket."
I sank the shot.
Frank walked up behind behind me.
"OK Deb, I get the message," he whispered. "Will you forgive me?"
"Maybe," I said, cooly.
"You know, I do find you extremely sexy right now," he said just above the whisper.
I whistled on my way back up the stairs. I no longer felt angry. I felt like I stood my ground.
I went to the guest room and grabbed a silk pair of pajamas and headed to the refrigerator to get another wine cooler. Caesar again greeted me and I gave him a snack.
I picked up Pandora and headed to the studio.
Caesar followed.
"Sorry boy, it's girl time," I said, shutting the door, curling up in a chair with Pandora and started reading one of Marie's books.
I was still reading when there came a tap on the door.
It was Frank with a sorrowful look on his face.
"The boys just left," he said. "I'm really sorry about what happened. Seriously, do you forgive me?"
I stood up and embraced him, brushed his hair out of his eyes.
"Well, if you kiss me, I might consider it," I said.
He gave me a passionate one.
"You remember the plastic surgery friend of yours?" I asked.
"Yes," he said.
"I'd like to call him, and get the ball rolling," I said.
"You mean?" he asked.
"Hormones and implants.." I said.
Before I could finish, he picked me and started carrying me up the stairs.
Before I could ask "Where are we going?," he opened the master bedroom door and set me gently down on the bed, leaned forward, embraced me and planted another kiss on me before letting his hands do roaming down my back, my ass and my legs, causing me to tingle just a bit.
"Are you sure this is what you want?" he asked.
I grabbed him, kissed him and felt his shoulders and pinched his ass.
"What do you think?" I whispered.
by Torey
by Torey
"How do you feel?" Frank said as I first opened my eyes.
"I bit groggy, a bit score," I whispered and squeezed his hand. "Thank you for going through that with me."
I also got a glimpse at my bandaged face when I looked at the mirror hanging on the wall in my hospital room.
"Oh my God, I'm ugly, too," I whispered.
"No you're not," Frank said. "Craig said it will take some time for you to heal. But you'll be just fine. You'll be as beautiful as ever."
My chest felt like it had weights on it, too. But I was told it will fill awfully strange at first. I went for a small C cup, borderline B. But with the swelling, I felt more like Dolly Pardon.
I felt numb in the chest, too, and a little sore. I also felt soreness in my crotch and inner thighs. And then I realized I was bandaged there, too.
I reached down there with my right hand and made a discovery.
It was gone.
The penis, the at times grotesque thing. It had been replaced by a bandaged, sore mound.
"Uh Frank," I said.
Part of me was a little upset. I went in for breast implants. I went in for facial surgery and a trachial shave. I wasn't supposed to have the full package deal.
That was to include surgery.
"What happened?" I said as I wept. "Why is it gone?"
Frank 'fessed up. After I was put under anesthesia, he asked my doctor how much more difficult would it be to perform the whole procedure.
"And Craig agreed to do it," he said. "It was against procedure, I know."
"And probably illegal, too," I whispered.
The Frank reminded me of the document I signed before I went under. It gave him power of attorney, just in case. And since he had the legal authority to approve the procedure, he did so.
Dr. Barnes apologized. So did Frank.
"I felt like this is what you wanted," he said.
He indeed had a point. I wouldn't have accepted his marriage proposal if it wasn't my intention to become a "full woman."
And before I went in for the implants and the facial surgery, I filled out the forms to legally be declared female by the court, which was approved on the day of my surgery.
Frank was friends with the judge, who quickly granted the request.
"It was my decision, Frank," I said as I wept. "My decision, you understand?"
We had a long discussion. Frank continued to apologize and asked me if I wanted out of the relationship.
"No, I don't want that," I said.
But I also told him I needed some time to heal, both physically and mentally. It was a big decision, a life altering decision...one I thought I was in complete control of.
I needed him to understand.
*****
I sat in the windowsill of the studio after a few weeks had gone by. I still had a few scars physically, but overall, I was pleased with the work.
Craig Barnes, regardless of doing some work without my permission, did good work. Frank was right about his skills. Together with the hormones, my body had gone through an amazing transformation.
I held Pandora in my lap. Deep down I missed Frank, but he had kept his distance as he'd promised. He seemed miserable, too, and buried himself in his work. I wasn't at all sorry for that.
He needed to fully understand that he couldn't have full control over my life.
I wondered, though, if it were time to call a truce. I thought about that as I left the studio and fed Caesar a snack from the kitchen.
I heard laughter in the "man room." It was poker night again, which was Frank's one refuge during my time of protest.
I laughed as I petted Caesar.
"What do you think boy?" I asked, as if I would get a reply from Frank's best friend. "Should I give the old guy another chance?"
Caesar didn't as much as bark.
"Like I would really expect you to give me an answer," I said.
Just then I heard a meow and felt Pandora rub up against my leg.
"I suppose you're right Pandora," I said. "We girls need to show a little compassion, don't we?"
Then it hit me...the phrase "we girls" actually rang true. It had always rung true. That's why I'd always felt a kinship toward Pandora.
Frank was right, it was what I truly wanted.
****
I didn't let on while Frank's buddies were at the house that the truce was over. I wanted to wait until the right moment.
"How did it go?" I asked him as he said goodbye to Carl, who was the last to leave.
"It went fine," he said. "I came out a winner."
"Good for you," I said as he made his way upstairs toward the master bedroom. "Maybe your luck is changing."
"I hope so," he said with a chuckle.
I heard the shower come on in the bathroom of the master bedroom and tiptoed up there, hoping I could surprise him. I stripped once I got to the bedroom, peaked into the bathroom and saw his naked silhouette through the glass doors.
I slid in beside him and grabbed one of his butt cheeks with my right arm and a bar of soap with my left and started washing his chest and kissed his neck.
"Does this mean, you're no longer made it me?" he said with tears in his eyes.
"What do you think, my man," I whispered.
He picked me up. I was afraid he was going to slip.
He kissed me.
"Deb, I really missed you, so."
I wept. I loved him for his passion.
We moved from the shower to the bedroom, where he hovered over me and began showering my body with kisses.
He turned over on his back and cradled me in his arms as I put my head on his chest.
"I missed you, so," he whispered.
I missed you, too," I replied.