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She is so beautiful as she lies there, sleeping peacefully finally.
There is this half smile on her face. I guess her dreams are better than
her reality has been tonight. I hardly blame her, er... Well... I guess
I should say him, but with the blanket disguising all but his breasts and
long curly brown hair, I can not think of her as anything but _her_.
I look down at the few salvageable scraps of clothes she has left to
her, and realize she will need something else. She has a bra, a skirt and
a sweater. Barely enough, but I think after the ordeal she has been
through, around me she will want something more... substantial. I know I
would never do the things she sobbed to me that those other men did, but
she does not. It is better to give her confidence before she has to start
trusting me.
I go to my room and look around. I have some old jeans that I
have... well frankly... grown out of. A seat job has taken away my time
to exercise, and depression has kept me in on the weekends. However,
nostalgia and a hope I would lose the weight again have combined to make me
keep them. I think they will fit her.
A Tee shirt to wear with it. Some socks, mine again. Socks are socks
right? They should fit her. I rummage through my drawers. But what about
underwear? Oh yeah!
I go to my closet and pull 'that box' out of it. The damn bitch. I
hate her and her smug little mouth. I know, I know. I said I liked the
way she smiled, but after the way she dumped me... Aargh.
I push around the collected detritus of a three year engagement, and
come up with a bunched up bundle of clothing. Out of the mess I am able to
extract three pairs of panties, a blouse and a garter belt with stockings.
I shrug. It's not as if I need them.
I bring the collected things to the library, and lay them, folded
neatly in a pile, next to her on the table.
I look at her again.
I shake my head.
'How beautiful', I think, and then I cross the room. Sitting in the
comfortable chair there, I begin to read that book I had been working on.
It wouldn't do for her to wake in a strange environment, after the
ordeal she had been through, alone.
* * *
Light.
Slowly I begin to wake up as a beam of light strikes my face from
across the room. I blink trying to clear my vision, and then the soreness
starts.
Oh my god, no!
I can still see their faces as they chased me. Those damned high
heels. I could never hope to outrun them. And then the change in their
faces as the caught me, held me down and ripped off my panties. The horror
as they see what I have hidden there.
I can't help it. I begin crying again.
It's over, I try to tell myself. I'm alive and away from them. That
nice man in the Jeep rescued me.
That man?!
I open my eyes again fully and look around the room. There, in a
seat, asleep sitting up with a book half falling off his lap. I can't help
but smile a little.
There he is. He must have tried to stay awake for me. Why would he
do that for me? I know he knows the truth of what I am. I was lying on
the ground with my skirt up around my waist and my panties in shreds on the
ground when he saved me.
Hope lifts my heart for a moment, but then fades. No, he is just a
kind man. Why should a man like him find anything interesting in me.
I sit up on the couch. My blankets fall away and I look down at
myself. He must have dressed me. I have on one of his flannel shirts.
It's long enough to almost cover my thighs while sitting. My breasts shift
sorely as I move.
On the table are some clothes. I see mine. Good, my bra is not
ruined. I guess since it is front closure, the rapists didn't cut it to
free my breasts. It will really help the pain I feel in my breasts if I
can support them. At least, I think it will.
In a pile of clothes I assume he got for me, there are some panties.
I wonder where he got them? Again I fight back that irrational hope. I
gather up some of the clothing and get up to find a bathroom.
When I stand, the shirt still keeps me modest.
I smile a little, looking at the man as he sits there, and then I take
the book from his lap. Putting it on the table beside him, I turn out the
lamp and put the blanket that was on me over him.
* * *
I awake with a start.
That momentary disorientation, and then I recognize the library. I
must have dozed off while reading. The closest I ever get to a woman
lately is vicariously through the stories I read.
I chuckle softly to myself. Then I remember.
The girl.
I look, but I already know the futon is empty. I have the blanket on
me.
Some clothes are gone, and I panic, thinking she has run off. I stand
quickly and begin to search the house. Then I hear it.
The shower is running.
I let out a breath of relief, and then stop.
Wait a minute, what am I thinking. If she wanted to run away, it is
fine with me. It's not as if she is engaged to me. She probably has a
boyfriend of her own.
Hell, girlfriend for that matter.
Besides, why would _I_ be interested in her. She has the wrong
equipment.
I shake my head to myself as I make my way to the kitchen. She'll
probably want breakfast. I start the coffee brewing and then check the
refrigerator. This is a bachelor pad, yes, but I do cook pretty darn well,
thank you. Omelettes, that's just the thing.
* * *
I close the door behind me, and place the clothes I selected on the
hamper by the sink. Quickly, I lock the door and lean against it. I can't
control the shakes.
Why did I do that? If that nice man was a rapist as well, why would
he have been so nice? Why did he take me to his home, and put me to bed?
I finally begin to calm.
Then, standing in front of the vanity, I look at myself in the mirror.
Not too much damage.
I raise a hand to feel the puffiness on my jaw, remembering the
backhand almost as vividly as when it happened. My hair is a wreck.
I chuckle a little at that admission. I was raped, and my hair's a
wreck.
Slowly I disrobe as I watch myself in the mirror. There are bruises
on my breasts where they grabbed and pulled my chest. One of my nipples
still has bite marks. There is the bruise where the tall one punched me,
and there is the burn mark where the fat one put out his cigarette.
I wince as each wound comes to view, and I feel each vividly in my
mind, reliving the experience. Finally I drop the shirt and am fully
crying. I lean on the vanity with one arm as I sob into my other hand.
Why did all this have to happen to me. If only my parents were still
alive, and I wasn't sent to that awful home. I wouldn't look like this,
and I would not have been raped.
I thought I was finally free, but those awful people are still ruining
my life. I hate them. I hate everyone.
I resign myself to being alone forever, and start the water in the
tub. When the temperature is where I like it, I step in and start the
shower. Almost immediately I begin to feel better. I am able to clean
myself of the touch of the rapists.
My spirits are once again up as I finish washing. I am free of them.
I will make my new start. I can go to school and learn some profession and
make the money I need to become male again. It can be done.
I stand before the mirror again, and look at myself. I am freshly
scrubbed, and my hair is clean. I look around for a brush, but all I find
is a comb. Of course. A man with such short hair as my rescuer wouldn't
need a brush. No matter. I only intend to put my hair in a pony tail
anyway. The comb will do.
I tame the kinks and tangles in my curly hair, and gather it up behind
my neck. Pulling an elastic from the pocket of my sweater, I wrap up my
ponytail. Then I begin to dress.
I slide my arms through the straps of my bra, and draw it around in
front of me. I clasp it closed and adjust the way my breasts rest. Then I
look back to the pile. I pull out the pair of panties I chose from what he
gave me. Again I can't help but wonder where he got them. They were
probably left by his girlfriend. She was probably still going out with
him, and so she left some here for... after.
I stand there just holding the panties as again I am depressed. He
has a real girl. He would never want me. I'm only half girl, and not even
that much where it counts.
Finally I shake myself out of it and pull them on. Tucking myself out
of the way like I have become accustomed to, my dick is held out of view by
the cotton crotch of the panties. It has become reflex; second nature.
The socks are good white cotton, and they go on fine. I pull the Tee
shirt over my head, and tug it into place. Then I follow it up with the
jeans. The jeans are a little tight in the hip, but my thin waist is
swimming in the band. I look around.
Aha. There is a belt hanging on the back of the door. With its aid I
am able to cinch the pants in and make them fit better. I look at myself
in the mirror.
I look like a sexy young girl to me. Any man would like to get to
know me. Too bad they can't. I can never get beyond a simple date because
of my 'problem'.
I pull my sweater on, and hide the vision of myself from the world. I
can't bear the sight of me any longer. Slowly I turn away, and unlock the
door. As I leave the room, I can smell coffee and bacon.
* * *
"Hi," She says meekly from the door to the kitchen.
"Morning. Would you like breakfast?"
There is an unforced cheer in his voice. He seems happy that she came
to the kitchen.
"Um. Well."
"It's alright. I was making some for myself." He turns to look at
her, and smiles. "I make killer omelettes?"
She can't help but smile back. "Sure," She hears her self say, and
then shyly she looks away.
"There is some coffee over there," he points the way, "and the mugs
are in the cabinet above. The bread is in the fridge. Would you make some
toast?"
Pleased at having something to do, she practically scurries over to
the refrigerator and pulls out the loaf. She takes four slices out and
sets them in the toaster. Then, that done, she goes and gets herself a mug
of coffee. Fixing it just the way she likes it, she then goes to the table
and sits down. Finding the table un-set for breakfast, she decides to do
it herself.
In no time, and only a few questions to locate utensils, she is done,
and he comes to the table with a huge omelette. He slides half into her
plate from the skillet. Then, putting the rest upon his own, he brings the
pan to the sink. He pauses from returning to the table long enough to get
the orange juice and places it on the lazy susan.
They both sit quietly and eat their meal.
He just looks at her face and hands, thinking 'how delicate her
features. She is so much more beautiful than The Bitch ever was.' Then,
whenever she looks up and sees him looking, He gets embarrassed and looks
down at his plate. Then, as soon as she is no longer looking, he is back
staring at her face.
She, on the other hand can't stop thinking how much she wished she was
a real woman. How much she wished she could be his, having his wonderful
breakfasts every morning and helping him keep this house. But no. It
could never be. Besides, he doesn't even like her. She would then look up
and see him looking at her but quickly look away. 'See' she thinks, 'he
thinks I'm a freak.'
Finally they finish breakfast, and sit, not knowing what to do.
"What's your..." "Shall I.."
They both begin to speak at once. They try again and are again
talking over each other. Finally after a good laugh at the absurdity of it
all and a blush of embarrassment from her, he has her speak first.
"Shall I clean up?"
"You don't have to. I have been keeping house for a while. I think I
do well."
"I don't mind. My... mother taught me to clean up after myself, and I
find it relaxes me."
She looks around at the house, really looking at it. It was well kept
for a bachelor pad, but there was no comparison to the way Mistress
demanded the house to look. There was no way this man had a woman live
here for any stretch of time. Again her heart filled with hope.
"Well," he responded. "If you really want to. But first you have to
tell me your name. I can't go around calling the person helping me with my
dishes, 'hey you'."
She laughed, and took his outstretched hand. "I'm Nancy Delany."
"Good to meet you, Nancy. I'm Peter McLain. Most people call me
Pete. So what brings you to our little town? I haven't seen you around,
and you have the accent of a southerner."
She smiled at his welcome, and began clearing the table. "Well, I
came looking for a small college to go to. I don't have much money, and
will probably have to put myself through."
"Well there is a good one in town. Offers a lot to anyone who really
wants to work at it. Do you have someplace to stay yet?"
She looked down at her hands. "Yes, I heard it was good. That's why I
came here. I was looking for an apartment yesterday when..."
"Well. You can stay with me until you find something. No need to
waste money on a hotel when you have so little already," he hurried on. He
saw her begin to think about the rape and steered her away from it.
"That's kind of you, but really..."
"It's no trouble. I live alone, and could use a roommate if only for
a little while. It gets lonely in this neck of the woods. The library
used to be a bedroom, and the couch you slept on is really a futon. I got
plenty of bathroom space, and privacy for you."
He just kept at her. He didn't know why it was so important that she
stay, but he had to have her stay. She stood at the sink, her head down,
trying to get a word in edgewise, until finally she looked at him. Smiling
she held up her hand to slow his onslaught, and answered with one word.
Yes.
"Great. I have to go to work for a little while, but when I get back
we can get your stuff. Is there anything you need before then that I can
get at the store?"
"No, I have everything I need in my car. Thank you."
"Well then. See you in a few hours. The house is yours, make
yourself at home."
She surprised them both by running up to him and hugging him about the
chest. They were both even more surprised when he wrapped his arms about
her in return. She sighed when he placed one of his hands, almost
lovingly, to the back of her head, but as quick as it all happened he
stepped away and walked to the door. Shouting "good bye," he left the
house.
She ran to the front window and watched his jeep drive down the long
drive, and then she sank to the couch. Quickly divesting herself of her
pants, she drove her hand into her panties and pulled her cock free. Her
other hand pulled the tee shirt up and unclasped her bra. Rubbing her
stiffened nipples drew a gasp from her clenched teeth, and made her already
firm cock even harder.
In no time, she had stroked herself to orgasm, and felt her balls
begin the pulsing that sent her come to the surface. She cupped the end of
her cock in her hand and allowed all the sweet come to flow out. Soon she
was drained, and satiated. Lifting her hand to her mouth, she licked up
the small puddle, and swallowed it down.
When he hugged her, she had felt him get hard.
* * *
What is with me?
I shift the jeep in to third gear as I get out on the open road and
head in to the office.
I have done nothing but stare at the poor girl all morning, and when
she finally feels comfortable with me, I go and pop a woody.
Sure she is beautiful, and all that, but what could she possibly see
in me? I am just another man. She probably is afraid of all men after
that ordeal last night.
I just barely stop daydreaming about her long enough to avoid smashing
into the car in front of me, stopped at a light. My heart is going a mile
a minute and my system is flooded with adrenaline. I try to calm myself.
Eventually I am back in control, and none too soon at that. No sooner do I
regain control, the light changes and I am off again. But still I cannot
stop thinking of her.
In no time I am pulling in to the parking lot of the office. I shut
down the engine, and on autopilot, I walk in the office. Thanks to my
familiarity with the place, I am able to make it to my little cubical
without further incident. I make it there, but still I am thinking about
her.
I log on the server and check my mail. A few memos, and requests for
my free time after work to get a bite, and return for my usual network game
of Carnage. I reply with the normal non-committal wave off, and thank them
for their offer. For the first time in years I have something to go home
to after work.
I try to start working on the next program I have due, but my mind is
not in it. I think about her. What is she doing now? Will she really
stay? Should I do something about that library?
A bang at my cubical entrance startles me into consciousness. I look
and see Jim. Oh yeah, our section meeting is today, the only reason I am
at work today. I get up from my seat, hit the key combo to shut down my
workstation, and follow him to the meeting room.
I am only asked a few questions about my part, but since I have been
the only one under time and under budget in the section, my lapses of
attention are excused out of hand.
When the meeting breaks up I return to my cubical, but I see no
reason, after a short while of thinking, to continue to stay here. It's
only two, but I decide to kick off. I don't have to work in the office
forty a week, I just have to meet the section goals. I can, and do, work
at home more often than not. I leave.
I am whistling. I never whistle. A couple co-workers notice and
remark about that very same thing. I just shrug.
I get in my Jeep, and drive towards home, stopping only to get some
food at the grocery store. I feel a real need to get home and see her. I
actually miss her.
Dumb.
* * *
I sit a moment, and then the guilt sets in. What the heck do I think
I'm doing? Sitting on his couch jacking off and doing it with his face in
my mind. I've been attracted to men before, especially when that woman
started me on those hormones, and my body started changing like it did. I
lived all my puberty as a girl, and only girls were allowed to be my
friends. When girls talk at that age, all we talk about are the boys. I
even wanted to date all the 'hunks' we talked about like the other girls
did.
Look, even now when I am alone, and not thinking about it, I still
default to the feminine way of thinking. I have been permanently changed
by that woman. I will never be a man, and I will never regain the boyhood
I lost.
I cry again. I feel so helpless. I can never be a real woman, and I
can never be a real man. I know I could love this man, Peter, but I can
never be the woman he would want. I felt so... safe in his arms. Safer
than I have ever felt since my parents died. I wasn't safe in my foster
home, that is for sure. And dating the few guys I dated in high school as
cover for my true identity was constantly terrifying.
I need something to do, I decide, and get up from the couch. Quickly
I rearrange my clothing and look around.
He was right, he did keep a neat house for a bachelor, but he did not
have the training that I got at the hands of Mistress during my change.
She demanded an immaculate house on top of all my other responsibilities.
If I didn't find school as easy as I did, I would have been in trouble. I
had very little time in which to study and do homework. I took many a
beating for not failing math and science, despite the good job I did in
home economics.
I make a decision right there; to get my mind off the guilt I had for
masturbating over Peter, I clean the house.
I start in the living room after finding the cleaning supplies in a
small closet off the hall, and I tour the house giving it a good cleaning.
The library and the kitchen are the easiest, most kept up rooms. The spare
bathroom that I used is dirty only from my little use. I decide to avoid
cleaning his office as there are probably private things in there I should
not see. Finally as I clean the hall to the end, I find myself at the door
to his room.
I wonder. Should I go in? I don't know.
Almost of its own will, my hand reaches out to the doorknob. It is as
if I am outside my body, unable to control myself. I walk in, and look
around.
The room is filled with his scent. It smells exactly as he smelled
this morning when I hugged him.
My cock begins to tremor, and semi-harden. I try to think of other
things.
I walk around with the duster and lightly clean things as I go around.
Actually, I wave the duster in the air as I snoop into his stuff. Then I
see it.
There is a box, half protruding out of his closet.
I can't stop myself. I peer into the box, and what I see immediately
makes me sit on the floor beside it. It is full of what can only be termed
mementoes. There are some earrings, some clothing, some letters and some
pictures. It was one picture in particular that caught my eye. It was
right on top.
It was peter and some woman, standing together at a party, and she was
showing off a ring she was wearing.
What does this mean I kept asking myself as I stared at the picture.
I didn't understand it. Then I found what put it all together.
The letter and the ring taped to it.
It was plain what it was. It was obviously a dear john letter. Who
could ever think Peter wasn't worth sticking with? I wished that I was
that girl in the picture, just given this spectacular ring, and having
everyone know I was his.
I tried on the ring, to see if it fit, and incredibly, it did. Then I
picked up the letter and began to read.
* * *
Dear Pete,
By the time you read this I will have left. I am going to Acapulco
with Raoul. You know him. He was the guy you hired to do your
landscaping. Well, he is a much better lover than you will ever be. I
fucked him the first time three months ago when I came over to surprise you
for your birthday. It was great.
You see, I came home from work, naked except for a bow on my chest. I
know it was risky, but I needed a thrill. I was going to surprise you in
your office. You would unwrap me, and we would have passionate love. I
was going to make you good. Needless to say you were not there. You had
left for your last minute business trip. I knew you were screwing around,
and I was hurt. That's when Raoul came in.
He must have seen me going from my car to the house, and followed me
in through the open door. I didn't know he was there watching me until he
reached his hands around me and began massaging my tits. I was scared at
first, but then I felt his cock rising between my still damp legs, and I
lost control. I turned in his arms and looked him in the eyes. I only had
to say one thing.
Fuck me.
He grabbed me by the thighs, and lifted me up. I wrapped my legs
around his waist, and his cock naturally slid deep into my wet and waiting
pussy, and when I say deep, Pete, I mean deep. His cock was no less than
ten inches long. Much more than you have dearie.
Anyway, he carried me that way, sucking occasionally on my breasts,
into your bedroom. There he laid me on the bed, lifted my legs over his
shoulders and slammed deeply into me over and over. He lasted longer than
you ever did, and I was able to orgasm just by his stroking. When he was
spent, he traced kisses down my body, and began to eat me out.
Now I know, I said you were good at that, but I lied. It was only
because I knew no better. He had skill unlike any I had ever seen before.
He had me on the ragged edge of orgasm for an hour before finally he let me
crash over it. When he presented his cock to me, I accepted it in my
mouth. He pleased me so much, I felt it was right to suck him off as well.
Again I know I never sucked you. I thought It was sick. But when he
gave me his cock it all felt so natural, and when he blew his second load
in my mouth I swallowed. I liked the taste so much, that over that weekend
I did not let him blow his load anywhere else but in my mouth. The only
load I did not swallow after the first one in my pussy, was the one in my
ass.
Yes, I even had anal sex with him. I did many things I did not do
with you. He possessed me, and I liked it. It was not like you and your
pussy fairy ways. I was sick of your, niceness. I wanted a man, not a
partner. I found it in Raoul thanks to that weekend, and every Wednesday
night thereafter until now.
Oh, and when I said all weekend, I mean all weekend. We used your
bed, in your house, and fucked all weekend long. I get some satisfaction
in telling you that. Here I was, your fiancee, in your house having an
affair on you. Even when I found out you were not cheating on me, I didn't
care. I was over you. I had better.
I finally enjoyed sex. I had it in my pussy, in my ass and down my
throat. I did it standing, sitting, man above woman above, doggie style.
I even had a threesome with double penetration, and A lesbian affair. I
was finally awoken. And all, strangely enough, thanks to you. So, you
dumb bastard, I have decided. Your possible earnings in a few years are
not enough to keep me. I want sex that I just think you can't give. I am
running away with Raoul.
Good riddance.
Millie.
* * *
"That bitch" I scream. How could she do such a thing to poor Peter.
There is so little kindness in the world. I should know.
I wanted to kill her. I wanted to make her see her mistake. I
wanted... Peter.
I stopped all thinking, but I knew it was true. I wanted to be
Peter's wife with all my heart. Here was someone I trusted for the first
time in my life. He was kind, and gentle. He was just the man I wanted.
I would do anything to get him to love me, and when I had the money, I
would have a pussy manufactured between my legs, and I would be his woman.
I would do anything he wanted from me in the bedroom. I'd...
Just then I heard the car drive up the driveway. I panic. I pull the
ring off my finger, shove it in the envelope with the letter and shove them
in to the box. I shuffle everything back into order, and then I vacate his
room. I am able to just meet him at the door.
* * *
"I'll just start the roast cooking and then we'll go get your car." he
says as he carries the groceries in to the kitchen.
She shuts the door behind him, and follows him to the kitchen. She
tries to find a way to tell him something, but she can't figure out how.
He notices her squirming and asks her what she wants to say.
"Well, It's not that good an idea to leave an oven going while no one
is in the house."
"Yes, I know that, but I wanted to make you a welcome home meal to
celebrate your choice to stay here until you have an on campus house or
something."
"I see," she continues. "Well, I don't really need my car tonight.
Tomorrow is a weekend, and we could go in the morning."
"Are you sure?" he replies, "don't you want to change?"
"I have something to change into, I washed my things today."
"Well, if you are sure."
They smile at the happy compromise, and then they set to making the
meal.
Once the dinner is in the oven and cooking, she leaves to go change,
and he decides to take a shower and change as well. When they step out of
their rooms, they look each other over and smile at what they see. Walking
together down the hallway, they go to the living room.
She is wearing the skirt and sweater he found her in, but in addition,
she has added the stockings he gave her, a tee shirt under the V-neck
sweater and the heels she was wearing yesterday. He assumes she is wearing
the underwear he also got her from the box.
He is in nice dockers, loafers, and a good button down. His hair is
neatly combed back, and he has put on some cologne.
Once in the living room, they talk about their days, and about what
Nancy is thinking she wants to become. When the conversation starts to
wane, Nancy turns on the stereo, and light dance music begins to play.
They talk about music for a while. Finally the dinner is done. They get
up and get everything to the dinner table.
With dinner, Peter pours some wine, and proposes a toast.
"To Nancy, and luck in the school year to come."
They raise their glasses and toast, Nancy drinking wine for the first
time ever, and then they start to eat. During the meal, Peter gives Nancy
a wrapped present. When she opens it, she sees the course catalog to the
local college. She smiles and thanks him profusely, and they continue to
eat, in silence this time.
Soon the meal is through, and together they clean up. They take the
wine, and retire to the living room and continue to talk. They talk late
into the night, and drink all that time. Suddenly, Nancy jumps up, and
grabs Peter's hand.
"Dance with me please, Peter. I love this song."
He can tell she is lightly drunk, but he decides why not. What's the
harm.
They dance a while, stopping only to drink a little more.
Finally, it is well past midnight, and the dance program on the radio
is done. The two don't part, however. Peter looks down, and sees Nancy
looking up at him. He realizes he is holding her rather close to himself.
She, looking up at him, sees the same in reverse. She smiles, and
then she raises herself up on her tip toes. Closing her eyes, she kisses
him lingeringly on the lips.
He resists a moment, but before she is discouraged, he grabs her
tightly, and begins to kiss her back passionately. His tongue flicks out,
and finding a willing partner, he begins to explore her mouth with his
tongue.
The kiss lasts at least ten minutes, but then as quickly as it
started, it ends.
Peter breaks the embrace and backs off. He looks at her with an
almost fear in his eyes.
He stammers. "I think... maybe... we... it's bedtime. We should go
to bed."
After bidding him a hasty goodnight, Nancy runs off to the library,
and closes the door.
Soon after, Peter closes up the house, and goes to bed himself.
* * *
I am such a fool. Why did I ever kiss him like that? He's repulsed;
I know. He sent me away. It was only because he is so kind that he said
it so nicely.
I sit on the futon and cry.
I am sure I'll be asked to leave in the morning. He'll ask me to get
in my car when we get it and drive away. How can he live in a house where
he knows I want him. He's not gay or anything, he won't want a half male
girlfriend.
Hours pass, and I cry and berate myself for stepping over the line.
Finally I can cry no more, and I decide to be nice to him in the morning.
'Maybe,' I think, 'if I am nice enough to him, he will let me stay.'
The thought lifts my spirits a little, and I am able to undress, and
climb into bed.
Soon I fall into a fitful sleep.
* * *
I can't believe myself. What was I thinking? I stepped way over the
line. I took advantage of her. Here she was, under the influence, and I
take a harmless peck and turn it into a tongue wrestling session.
I sit on the couch and reflect on what I have done.
I broke her trust. Here she was probably doing no more than thanking
me for dancing with her and I practically assault her. It's not like she
wants an old man like me for a boyfriend or anything.
I make a resolution to myself. I will be extra kind to her, and maybe
she won't leave me.
I smile to myself at the reassurance, and lock up the house. Then I
go to bed.
My sleep is disturbed with dreams of her.
* * *
The next morning she is up early. She showers, and dresses in the
jeans and tee-shirt outfit. Walking into the kitchen, she notices he is
not awake yet, and decides to make him breakfast for a change. She is just
finishing when he comes into the room.
He has dressed himself in much the same sort of clothes. Showing
genuine surprise at her having made breakfast, he gets to setting the
table.
Finally, they sit, and enjoy the meal together in silence.
Once finished, he thanks her and compliments her on her good cooking.
She smiles her thanks, and begins clearing the dishes.
He helps her, and asks if she is ready to go get her stuff. He can
drive her over.
She thanks him, and accepts.
Once the cleaning is done, they sit a moment to finish their coffees,
and studiously avoid looking at each other. Finally, he breaks the
silence.
"I... well... about last night."
"I'm sorry," she hastily responds. "I didn't mean it. I should have
never kissed you like that."
"Oh no, I was wrong. Here you were, a guest, and I almost assault
you."
"But, I'm... Well.. You know about me. I shouldn't have put you in
that position to begin with."
"Huh? Oh that! That's nothing. I didn't really think of that at
all. I just thought that after I had turned an innocent kiss into a
necking session, you would get offended. I didn't want you thinking wrong
of me."
She sits silently, staring at him in confusion. Thoughts swim in her
head. He doesn't find me repulsive... He liked kissing me... He thought
it was him and not me doing the wrong thing in that situation..
For that matter, he is struck with confusion as well. I really don't
mind that she is really a he. He thinks. I mean, I actually don't mind at
all... I could date this girl and be happy... What is wrong with me?
Although, she is a better woman than SHE ever was...
They sit silently for a while, trying to work things though when
finally he stands. He takes her empty mug, and his, and brings them to the
sink. When he turns from rinsing them, she is standing silently beside
him. She hugs him tightly, and he just holds her. She cries in his arms
for a little, and then pulls away. She looks up, and smiles, and says one
thing.
"Friends?"
"Yes. I think so." is the only way he can respond. "Well, we're
burning daylight. Time to go."
She continues to smile, and lifts up on her toes again. Quickly
kissing him on the lips, she turns and runs to the room he has lent her.
She gets what she needs, and returns to the kitchen. He for his part, is
still standing where she left him with a half grin on his face.
He snaps out of it, and follows her out of the house. He holds the
door to his jeep open for her, and then he gets in himself. Within moments
they are on the road, and off to get her car.
* * *
I can't believe it. He actually doesn't mind me. Doesn't mind that I
am really half man, half woman. I'm sure he doesn't love me, but he won't
make me leave.
I sit in his jeep, and watch him from the side of my eyes. He is just
so handsome. His strong forearms deftly putting his car through it's paces
and his beautiful eyes so intent on the road just draw my attention.
It takes us a little while, but all too soon, we are at the little
park where the rape happened. I can't help but shudder, and get
apprehensive. The events of that night not so long ago repeat in my head.
He has stopped the jeep, and is at my door holding it open for me
before I notice. I look over, and he must see the fear in my eyes. He
holds his arms out for me, and I go to him. He whispers in my ear,
"I'm here. I won't leave you. I promise."
I sigh, wishing he were saying that to me in Love, but I know he is
just being his kind self, and have to settle for that.
Still in his arms, we begin walking to where I parked my car. It was
in a secluded portion of the park, and was somewhat of a walk to get to.
In a pleasant little while, we were there. That is when I began to cry
again. My car had been broken into.
I know it was not that much of a car. I had bought it with the
proceeds of many summer jobs that I saved up, and didn't spend. I had been
planning my escape since I was thirteen, and had prepared everything. I
knew I would need a car to escape, and so I saved, and made a deal with an
old lady to buy her old vehicle. And now, here it was, broken into and
vandalized.
Peter left my side, and began looking over the car. I stood and cried
until he came back, and held me again.
"It's alright. I don't think anything much is taken."
"But they hurt my car."
He smiled. "I don't think it is hurt at all. There seem to be no
windows broken, and there is no vandalism. I think it was just a few winos
looking for money."
"Are you sure?"
"I am."
I could not help but smile for him when he leaned down and kissed my
forehead. He helped me into the car, and handed me his house key.
"Will you be alright going home alone? I have a few things I have to
do, but I will be there right after you."
I told him I thought so. I knew how to get back, and thought I could
begin unpacking my car and seeing what was missing.
He told me that the closets in the library were empty, and that he had
a few dressers that he would move in for me when he got back. He closed my
door, and waited while I started the motor. Then he watched me drive away.
I drove back in a daze, and then, when I got to his house, I began
unpacking. It took me quite a while, and I did not notice when Peter
returned.
I was just finishing putting away all my clothes that needed to be
hung in the closet, and I turned around to see him standing in the doorway
and just looking at me with this sort of half smile on his face. When he
noticed I was looking back at him, he seemed to startle out of a trance,
and began to look away. He muttered something about having to move some of
the books to take down the shelves if I wanted to have dressers.
I smiled as I replied that I didn't mind the books, I actually quite
liked to read. I couldn't help but notice him blushing.
In the end, we came to a compromise. Some of the books were really
work books, and he would put them in the office. Then, the remainder would
be split between our bedrooms, and we could share them that way. He set me
to removing the sections of books that now would reside in the office,
while he went out to the barn, and collected the dressers and a vanity
table he said he had.
In a few hours, we had over two thirds of the books, and bookcases,
gone, he had delivered the furniture he had promised, and I had it all
filled. We finished about ten that evening, and decided a quick meal of
leftovers, and bed soon after, was much preferred.
We talked a little during dinner, and when we finished, he bade me
goodnight. I ran up to him, and gave him a quick kiss, and then I ran to
my room. I couldn't help but giggle like a little girl. I knew one thing.
I loved him.
* * *
I watched her leave the park, and I couldn't help but feel sorry for
her. She had been raped, and then she had her car broken into. I don't
know how anyone deserved that. Once she had gone, I walked back to my
jeep, and got in.
I went over in my head what I was going to have to get at the hardware
store to make a better bed for her, and the things I would need to relocate
the shelves to my bedroom.
The trip to the hardware and lumber store was quick, and, since
delivery was free, all I had to do was order what I wanted, and pay. The
trip home was even faster, all I thought of was her.
When I finally got home, I went in, and walked down the hall to her
room. She was leaning into her closet hanging things away, and her beauty
just caught me. Her tee-shirt was riding up, and it was revealing the
nicest waistline I had seen in a long time.
The way her hair was rolled up in a bun was also catching my eye. The
little wisps that snuck out on her, and tickled her long pale neck. The
way her breasts seemed to peek around her chest and under her arm at me and
the way her tight ass flexed when she reached up on tip toe to put a box or
some such thing up high, turned me on more than I ever imagined possible.
I didn't ever once think of her as anything other than "her".
I didn't realize I was staring, however, until she finished, and
turned around and looked at me staring at her. I was flustered, and could
feel the blood rush to my face as I looked away. We discussed what plans I
had made for her room, and she smiled, and accepted most everything I
planned. She only balked at my offer to take all the books out of her
room. We finally compromised, and all was well.
For quite a few hours after that, we worked together, side by side
often, and got her room shipshape. We elected not to have a real meal for
dinner, but I enjoyed it nonetheless. When finally we said our goodnights,
I was surprised but happy when she gave me a quick kiss. I went to bed
happy, and you know why?
I could not help but think, 'I love this girl.'
* * *
Time passes as time does. In days, her room is completed, and she
settles down to begin her schooling. The topic of her moving out when
school started is never brought up, and consequently she never leaves their
home. He, for his part, goes back to working in his home office, and helps
her out with any problems that arise.
When her school transcripts are held up, he gets her a scholarship
through his company and sends it with a letter stating that any delay in
her entrance would displease the company. A small, but effective, lie due
to the fact that the company aids the school in a lot of its computing
needs.
When he asked her why her transcripts were probably delayed, however,
she became apprehensive, and uncharacteristically of her, she clammed up.
He dropped the matter, but kept it in the back of his mind. This puzzle he
felt was something she needed to get out in order to heal. She had told
him all about the rape, and she had since seemed to have put it behind her,
but this thing was different, and still with her.
He remembered it vividly one day while working on a problem in his
office. She had just popped her head in the door to say goodbye before
going to classes for the day. She was wearing mostly what she had been
wearing the day he had found her, and it triggered his memory of the story
she had related.
* * *
I had been sitting in my living room watching a movie. She came in
from the kitchen, and she was bringing with her a bowl of popcorn. She was
smiling, and remarked that she had finally finished her homework, and would
I mind if she watched the tube with me. I, of course, did not, and she
settled herself on the couch beside me, curled her feet up beneath her, and
placed the bowl between us. It sort of rested on both of our thighs,
bridging the gap, as it were.
Anyway, we were watching an old Vietnam movie, (I had asked if she
wanted to change it, and she said she didn't mind) when there was this rape
scene. I almost didn't realize the significance in time, and was only just
able to switch off the channel.
She was sitting there, and staring at the tv, when I looked over. She
didn't move for quite a while as I asked her if she was alright. Then she
just went berserk.
She jumped off the couch spewing popcorn all over. She was wailing
something terrible, and I just chased her. I followed her to her room, and
grabbed her, hugging her to me. She beat her hands against my chest for a
while, but finally she began to calm. She sobbed into my shirt, and
clenched her hands in the fabric.
I just held her tightly in a hug, and whispered soothing things into
her hair. Finally her sobs slowed, and her arms wrapped around me and
hugged me tightly. In a little while, she pulled away from me, and looked
up. She thanked me for being there, and I asked her if she wanted to talk
about it. She nodded, and I led her to the kitchen where I made us some
coffee. I sat beside her and listened to her talk.
* * *
I sat there beside him for a little while, still collecting myself
over that cup of coffee. When I was able to finally speak, I spun out the
tale of my rape.
I had just entered town, and I was tired of driving. I saw the park,
and since it was such a beautiful evening, I decided to take a walk by the
pond. The sun was just going down, and I thought the sunset would be
beautiful. I don't know how long I sat there on that bench after the sun
was gone and I heard the voices. I wasn't scared, but they did cause me to
remember the time, and think about finding somewhere to stay.
I was walking back to my car in a dark tree-covered part of the park
when they came upon me. There were seven of them. Young men in leather
and carrying bottles of alcohol, shouting and laughing in the dark. I
tried to get past them without them noticing, but one of them did see me,
and brought it to the attention of the others.
They started with the whistles and comments about how nice my legs and
breasts looked, and then they got up and began following me. I noticed
them behind me, and began to walk faster. I don't know if that was the
wrong thing or not, but it seemed to get them more rowdy. When one said
something about how I would look nice with my legs spread, I knew what they
were thinking, and decided to run.
I was slower than I know I could be because of the high heels I
insisted on wearing, and worst of all, before I could get to the lighter
part of the park, I tripped. In moments they were all around me.
I pleaded and begged for them to leave me alone, that I knew they
didn't want to get into trouble over something like this. They just
laughed and drank their wine and leered at me. I was backing away, when
the first one moved.
One of them, standing in front of me, grabbed my ankle, and dragged me
towards him. I was pulled prone by the violent pull, and another quickly
jumped into the act. He grabbed my right arm, and pulled it tightly to the
side. In moments I had a man at each of my arms and legs, and I was being
pulled spread eagled.
The leader I guess, reached down, and at the insistence of his gang,
he grabbed roughly at my breasts. He commented to the others how nice and
big and firm they were, as he massaged and pulled them through my shirt.
Then he reached down, and whipped up my skirt. Seeing that I had on only a
garterbelt and panties under it, he flipped open a switchblade and Cut the
side band of my panties.
That is when things started going real bad.
The man pulled my panties off roughly, and exposed what resided there
between my legs. My cock, hidden until now was fully exposed to their
view. They just stopped and stared. I fought to get loose, and that
seemed to spur them to action.
"This chick is a man!" one screamed. "We'll make him a woman tonight
though, won't we boys." the leader responded. I tried to scream, to fight,
to do anything, but they held tightly to me, and the leader shoved my
panties in my mouth. I was quickly stripped of my clothing, and they
spared no time on buttons or such whenever they slowed them down. They
used the knife or ripped them off forcibly whenever they wished.
Whenever I tried to fight back, or escape, I was punched or slapped.
One time I was even kicked. Finally, when I could do no more, I just cried
and let them do as they wished. The leader took me first.
He had his gang hold me in the 'doggie' style, and without any care
for me, he drove himself roughly into me. He took my ass fast and rough,
and came deep within my ass. As soon as he was done, the next took his
place. Then another. It all sort of started to blend together. I vaguely
remember the one that came on my face, and the one that put his cigarette
out on me.
I was
subjected to each of them at least twice each until finally they stopped.
I curled myself into a ball, wrapping the shreds of cloth still on me
about my naked body, and only slightly heard them talking above me. I
think they were trying to decide wether or not to kill me. That is when
Peter came.
He came down the hill, shouting at them to clear out. I think that
they were about to rush him, and beat him or something when all of a sudden
they ran away. I was startled at their rapid departure, and looked up to
see what had sent them away.
There was Peter. He was wielding a pistol, and looking at the
direction they left in. When they were gone long enough for him, he looked
down at me, and smiled an apologetic smile. All I could tell him when he
asked if I wanted some help was "no police... please... no police."
That is when I passed out.
* * *
He remembers all this, and is lost in daydreaming about her. He
wastes a day without realizing it until she walks into his office, and
shakes his attention to her. He smiles and makes small excuses for his
lapse of attention, but she just laughs them off. She tells him that he
needs a vacation.
He agrees with her, but tells her that since his Fiancee left him, he
had not wanted to go anywhere but to work. He didn't know what there was
to do anymore. The sudden thought of his ex-fiancee strikes him, and his
face drops a little. "The damn bitch" He whispers quietly, and balls a
hand into a fist, then with a shake, he tries to ignore the feelings.
He chuckles softly, and makes to go back to work, when she stops him
with a gentle hand to the arm. She hugs his head to her stomach where she
stands beside her, and strokes his hair. Trapped in this soft embrace, he
just lets go his emotions and cries. She soothes him with quiet words, and
tells him she knows all about it. Tells him it wasn't his fault, she was
just wrong, and he deserved better. Someone that cared for him. Someone
who cared as much as she does...
There was an awkward moment of silence as he raised his face to look
at her. She seemed surprised to have said what she said, but she didn't
turn away. Finally, to break the silence, he stands up before her, and
embraces her in a tight hug. He thanks her for saying such a kind thing to
him, and for helping him through a rough moment.
She told him she didn't mind, and she would leave him now to finish up
work for the day. Dinner would be ready in a little while. She smiled to
him, squeezed him tightly one last time and left the room. He sat down and
thought over what had been said, and explored exactly what he felt about
it.
* * *
Why oh why did I ever say that? I mean, I was pushing things too
hard. I know he needed comforting and all that, he was hurting from the
way he was dumped by that bitch of a fiancee. I was there and I cared for
him, so I held him until the crying was done. It was only something a good
friend would do up until that point, then I had to say that I cared about
him. Oh Nancy, why do you always do these things to yourself?
I left him as quickly as I could and went in to the kitchen. I
finished the preparations for supper that I had started, and waited for his
eventual arrival.
* * *
It was amazing. She was so right, about everything. I did need a
vacation. The Bitch was wrong. I did deserve better.
I started to really think about the past few months we had been living
together. All the things we continually did for each other, the little
things. The way we would spend our nights together when she didn't have
any homework to do. The way she and I shared the household chores. The
bitch never even lived in what I wanted to be our home half as much as she
does now. We were as close as two people ever get. And she was right
about one more thing too...
I needed someone who cared as much as she does... I needed her.
* * *
In a little while, he entered the kitchen. She was standing at the
sink, washing out the lettuce for a salad. He stepped up behind her and
wrapped her tightly in a hug. She smiled and leaned back into his arms
reflexively.
"You are right," he said, " I do need a vacation. What are you doing
this weekend?"
"It's a long weekend for me this week, what do you have planned?"
"Well, I haven't planned anything yet, because I wanted you to come
with me."
She smiled, "Why would you want to do a thing like that? You should
have some time off by yourself."
"I've been alone for too long. I want to be with you. Will you go?"
She turned within his arms slowly and looked him in the eyes. "Is
this what you want?" There was only a small hint of nervousness in her
voice.
"Definitely. I can think of no one I'd rather be with."
He slowly leaned down, his intent clear, and she responded quickly.
In moments they were kissing, lightly at first, but with an increasing
passion. He pulled her in tightly to him, and she responded by pressing
her breasts to his chest and opening her mouth to his tongue. Finally, a
short while later, they broke from each other and just looked into each
other's eyes.
She took his hand, and turning off the stove, she dragged him down the
hall to his bedroom. Once there, she fell into his arms again and once
more was kissing him. He did not hesitate on minute, and soon was
caressing her whole body while he held her close. Then, she stopped him
once more.
"Are you sure you want to go further, you know what I am..."
"Of course I do. You are a person that I have fallen in love with and
you seem to have fallen in love with me."
"I have"
"Then how can there be a problem?"
 
There is this half smile on her face. I guess her dreams are better than
her reality has been tonight. I hardly blame her, er... Well... I guess
I should say him, but with the blanket disguising all but his breasts and
long curly brown hair, I can not think of her as anything but _her_.
I look down at the few salvageable scraps of clothes she has left to
her, and realize she will need something else. She has a bra, a skirt and
a sweater. Barely enough, but I think after the ordeal she has been
through, around me she will want something more... substantial. I know I
would never do the things she sobbed to me that those other men did, but
she does not. It is better to give her confidence before she has to start
trusting me.
I go to my room and look around. I have some old jeans that I
have... well frankly... grown out of. A seat job has taken away my time
to exercise, and depression has kept me in on the weekends. However,
nostalgia and a hope I would lose the weight again have combined to make me
keep them. I think they will fit her.
A Tee shirt to wear with it. Some socks, mine again. Socks are socks
right? They should fit her. I rummage through my drawers. But what about
underwear? Oh yeah!
I go to my closet and pull 'that box' out of it. The damn bitch. I
hate her and her smug little mouth. I know, I know. I said I liked the
way she smiled, but after the way she dumped me... Aargh.
I push around the collected detritus of a three year engagement, and
come up with a bunched up bundle of clothing. Out of the mess I am able to
extract three pairs of panties, a blouse and a garter belt with stockings.
I shrug. It's not as if I need them.
I bring the collected things to the library, and lay them, folded
neatly in a pile, next to her on the table.
I look at her again.
I shake my head.
'How beautiful', I think, and then I cross the room. Sitting in the
comfortable chair there, I begin to read that book I had been working on.
It wouldn't do for her to wake in a strange environment, after the
ordeal she had been through, alone.
* * *
Light.
Slowly I begin to wake up as a beam of light strikes my face from
across the room. I blink trying to clear my vision, and then the soreness
starts.
Oh my god, no!
I can still see their faces as they chased me. Those damned high
heels. I could never hope to outrun them. And then the change in their
faces as the caught me, held me down and ripped off my panties. The horror
as they see what I have hidden there.
I can't help it. I begin crying again.
It's over, I try to tell myself. I'm alive and away from them. That
nice man in the Jeep rescued me.
That man?!
I open my eyes again fully and look around the room. There, in a
seat, asleep sitting up with a book half falling off his lap. I can't help
but smile a little.
There he is. He must have tried to stay awake for me. Why would he
do that for me? I know he knows the truth of what I am. I was lying on
the ground with my skirt up around my waist and my panties in shreds on the
ground when he saved me.
Hope lifts my heart for a moment, but then fades. No, he is just a
kind man. Why should a man like him find anything interesting in me.
I sit up on the couch. My blankets fall away and I look down at
myself. He must have dressed me. I have on one of his flannel shirts.
It's long enough to almost cover my thighs while sitting. My breasts shift
sorely as I move.
On the table are some clothes. I see mine. Good, my bra is not
ruined. I guess since it is front closure, the rapists didn't cut it to
free my breasts. It will really help the pain I feel in my breasts if I
can support them. At least, I think it will.
In a pile of clothes I assume he got for me, there are some panties.
I wonder where he got them? Again I fight back that irrational hope. I
gather up some of the clothing and get up to find a bathroom.
When I stand, the shirt still keeps me modest.
I smile a little, looking at the man as he sits there, and then I take
the book from his lap. Putting it on the table beside him, I turn out the
lamp and put the blanket that was on me over him.
* * *
I awake with a start.
That momentary disorientation, and then I recognize the library. I
must have dozed off while reading. The closest I ever get to a woman
lately is vicariously through the stories I read.
I chuckle softly to myself. Then I remember.
The girl.
I look, but I already know the futon is empty. I have the blanket on
me.
Some clothes are gone, and I panic, thinking she has run off. I stand
quickly and begin to search the house. Then I hear it.
The shower is running.
I let out a breath of relief, and then stop.
Wait a minute, what am I thinking. If she wanted to run away, it is
fine with me. It's not as if she is engaged to me. She probably has a
boyfriend of her own.
Hell, girlfriend for that matter.
Besides, why would _I_ be interested in her. She has the wrong
equipment.
I shake my head to myself as I make my way to the kitchen. She'll
probably want breakfast. I start the coffee brewing and then check the
refrigerator. This is a bachelor pad, yes, but I do cook pretty darn well,
thank you. Omelettes, that's just the thing.
* * *
I close the door behind me, and place the clothes I selected on the
hamper by the sink. Quickly, I lock the door and lean against it. I can't
control the shakes.
Why did I do that? If that nice man was a rapist as well, why would
he have been so nice? Why did he take me to his home, and put me to bed?
I finally begin to calm.
Then, standing in front of the vanity, I look at myself in the mirror.
Not too much damage.
I raise a hand to feel the puffiness on my jaw, remembering the
backhand almost as vividly as when it happened. My hair is a wreck.
I chuckle a little at that admission. I was raped, and my hair's a
wreck.
Slowly I disrobe as I watch myself in the mirror. There are bruises
on my breasts where they grabbed and pulled my chest. One of my nipples
still has bite marks. There is the bruise where the tall one punched me,
and there is the burn mark where the fat one put out his cigarette.
I wince as each wound comes to view, and I feel each vividly in my
mind, reliving the experience. Finally I drop the shirt and am fully
crying. I lean on the vanity with one arm as I sob into my other hand.
Why did all this have to happen to me. If only my parents were still
alive, and I wasn't sent to that awful home. I wouldn't look like this,
and I would not have been raped.
I thought I was finally free, but those awful people are still ruining
my life. I hate them. I hate everyone.
I resign myself to being alone forever, and start the water in the
tub. When the temperature is where I like it, I step in and start the
shower. Almost immediately I begin to feel better. I am able to clean
myself of the touch of the rapists.
My spirits are once again up as I finish washing. I am free of them.
I will make my new start. I can go to school and learn some profession and
make the money I need to become male again. It can be done.
I stand before the mirror again, and look at myself. I am freshly
scrubbed, and my hair is clean. I look around for a brush, but all I find
is a comb. Of course. A man with such short hair as my rescuer wouldn't
need a brush. No matter. I only intend to put my hair in a pony tail
anyway. The comb will do.
I tame the kinks and tangles in my curly hair, and gather it up behind
my neck. Pulling an elastic from the pocket of my sweater, I wrap up my
ponytail. Then I begin to dress.
I slide my arms through the straps of my bra, and draw it around in
front of me. I clasp it closed and adjust the way my breasts rest. Then I
look back to the pile. I pull out the pair of panties I chose from what he
gave me. Again I can't help but wonder where he got them. They were
probably left by his girlfriend. She was probably still going out with
him, and so she left some here for... after.
I stand there just holding the panties as again I am depressed. He
has a real girl. He would never want me. I'm only half girl, and not even
that much where it counts.
Finally I shake myself out of it and pull them on. Tucking myself out
of the way like I have become accustomed to, my dick is held out of view by
the cotton crotch of the panties. It has become reflex; second nature.
The socks are good white cotton, and they go on fine. I pull the Tee
shirt over my head, and tug it into place. Then I follow it up with the
jeans. The jeans are a little tight in the hip, but my thin waist is
swimming in the band. I look around.
Aha. There is a belt hanging on the back of the door. With its aid I
am able to cinch the pants in and make them fit better. I look at myself
in the mirror.
I look like a sexy young girl to me. Any man would like to get to
know me. Too bad they can't. I can never get beyond a simple date because
of my 'problem'.
I pull my sweater on, and hide the vision of myself from the world. I
can't bear the sight of me any longer. Slowly I turn away, and unlock the
door. As I leave the room, I can smell coffee and bacon.
* * *
"Hi," She says meekly from the door to the kitchen.
"Morning. Would you like breakfast?"
There is an unforced cheer in his voice. He seems happy that she came
to the kitchen.
"Um. Well."
"It's alright. I was making some for myself." He turns to look at
her, and smiles. "I make killer omelettes?"
She can't help but smile back. "Sure," She hears her self say, and
then shyly she looks away.
"There is some coffee over there," he points the way, "and the mugs
are in the cabinet above. The bread is in the fridge. Would you make some
toast?"
Pleased at having something to do, she practically scurries over to
the refrigerator and pulls out the loaf. She takes four slices out and
sets them in the toaster. Then, that done, she goes and gets herself a mug
of coffee. Fixing it just the way she likes it, she then goes to the table
and sits down. Finding the table un-set for breakfast, she decides to do
it herself.
In no time, and only a few questions to locate utensils, she is done,
and he comes to the table with a huge omelette. He slides half into her
plate from the skillet. Then, putting the rest upon his own, he brings the
pan to the sink. He pauses from returning to the table long enough to get
the orange juice and places it on the lazy susan.
They both sit quietly and eat their meal.
He just looks at her face and hands, thinking 'how delicate her
features. She is so much more beautiful than The Bitch ever was.' Then,
whenever she looks up and sees him looking, He gets embarrassed and looks
down at his plate. Then, as soon as she is no longer looking, he is back
staring at her face.
She, on the other hand can't stop thinking how much she wished she was
a real woman. How much she wished she could be his, having his wonderful
breakfasts every morning and helping him keep this house. But no. It
could never be. Besides, he doesn't even like her. She would then look up
and see him looking at her but quickly look away. 'See' she thinks, 'he
thinks I'm a freak.'
Finally they finish breakfast, and sit, not knowing what to do.
"What's your..." "Shall I.."
They both begin to speak at once. They try again and are again
talking over each other. Finally after a good laugh at the absurdity of it
all and a blush of embarrassment from her, he has her speak first.
"Shall I clean up?"
"You don't have to. I have been keeping house for a while. I think I
do well."
"I don't mind. My... mother taught me to clean up after myself, and I
find it relaxes me."
She looks around at the house, really looking at it. It was well kept
for a bachelor pad, but there was no comparison to the way Mistress
demanded the house to look. There was no way this man had a woman live
here for any stretch of time. Again her heart filled with hope.
"Well," he responded. "If you really want to. But first you have to
tell me your name. I can't go around calling the person helping me with my
dishes, 'hey you'."
She laughed, and took his outstretched hand. "I'm Nancy Delany."
"Good to meet you, Nancy. I'm Peter McLain. Most people call me
Pete. So what brings you to our little town? I haven't seen you around,
and you have the accent of a southerner."
She smiled at his welcome, and began clearing the table. "Well, I
came looking for a small college to go to. I don't have much money, and
will probably have to put myself through."
"Well there is a good one in town. Offers a lot to anyone who really
wants to work at it. Do you have someplace to stay yet?"
She looked down at her hands. "Yes, I heard it was good. That's why I
came here. I was looking for an apartment yesterday when..."
"Well. You can stay with me until you find something. No need to
waste money on a hotel when you have so little already," he hurried on. He
saw her begin to think about the rape and steered her away from it.
"That's kind of you, but really..."
"It's no trouble. I live alone, and could use a roommate if only for
a little while. It gets lonely in this neck of the woods. The library
used to be a bedroom, and the couch you slept on is really a futon. I got
plenty of bathroom space, and privacy for you."
He just kept at her. He didn't know why it was so important that she
stay, but he had to have her stay. She stood at the sink, her head down,
trying to get a word in edgewise, until finally she looked at him. Smiling
she held up her hand to slow his onslaught, and answered with one word.
Yes.
"Great. I have to go to work for a little while, but when I get back
we can get your stuff. Is there anything you need before then that I can
get at the store?"
"No, I have everything I need in my car. Thank you."
"Well then. See you in a few hours. The house is yours, make
yourself at home."
She surprised them both by running up to him and hugging him about the
chest. They were both even more surprised when he wrapped his arms about
her in return. She sighed when he placed one of his hands, almost
lovingly, to the back of her head, but as quick as it all happened he
stepped away and walked to the door. Shouting "good bye," he left the
house.
She ran to the front window and watched his jeep drive down the long
drive, and then she sank to the couch. Quickly divesting herself of her
pants, she drove her hand into her panties and pulled her cock free. Her
other hand pulled the tee shirt up and unclasped her bra. Rubbing her
stiffened nipples drew a gasp from her clenched teeth, and made her already
firm cock even harder.
In no time, she had stroked herself to orgasm, and felt her balls
begin the pulsing that sent her come to the surface. She cupped the end of
her cock in her hand and allowed all the sweet come to flow out. Soon she
was drained, and satiated. Lifting her hand to her mouth, she licked up
the small puddle, and swallowed it down.
When he hugged her, she had felt him get hard.
* * *
What is with me?
I shift the jeep in to third gear as I get out on the open road and
head in to the office.
I have done nothing but stare at the poor girl all morning, and when
she finally feels comfortable with me, I go and pop a woody.
Sure she is beautiful, and all that, but what could she possibly see
in me? I am just another man. She probably is afraid of all men after
that ordeal last night.
I just barely stop daydreaming about her long enough to avoid smashing
into the car in front of me, stopped at a light. My heart is going a mile
a minute and my system is flooded with adrenaline. I try to calm myself.
Eventually I am back in control, and none too soon at that. No sooner do I
regain control, the light changes and I am off again. But still I cannot
stop thinking of her.
In no time I am pulling in to the parking lot of the office. I shut
down the engine, and on autopilot, I walk in the office. Thanks to my
familiarity with the place, I am able to make it to my little cubical
without further incident. I make it there, but still I am thinking about
her.
I log on the server and check my mail. A few memos, and requests for
my free time after work to get a bite, and return for my usual network game
of Carnage. I reply with the normal non-committal wave off, and thank them
for their offer. For the first time in years I have something to go home
to after work.
I try to start working on the next program I have due, but my mind is
not in it. I think about her. What is she doing now? Will she really
stay? Should I do something about that library?
A bang at my cubical entrance startles me into consciousness. I look
and see Jim. Oh yeah, our section meeting is today, the only reason I am
at work today. I get up from my seat, hit the key combo to shut down my
workstation, and follow him to the meeting room.
I am only asked a few questions about my part, but since I have been
the only one under time and under budget in the section, my lapses of
attention are excused out of hand.
When the meeting breaks up I return to my cubical, but I see no
reason, after a short while of thinking, to continue to stay here. It's
only two, but I decide to kick off. I don't have to work in the office
forty a week, I just have to meet the section goals. I can, and do, work
at home more often than not. I leave.
I am whistling. I never whistle. A couple co-workers notice and
remark about that very same thing. I just shrug.
I get in my Jeep, and drive towards home, stopping only to get some
food at the grocery store. I feel a real need to get home and see her. I
actually miss her.
Dumb.
* * *
I sit a moment, and then the guilt sets in. What the heck do I think
I'm doing? Sitting on his couch jacking off and doing it with his face in
my mind. I've been attracted to men before, especially when that woman
started me on those hormones, and my body started changing like it did. I
lived all my puberty as a girl, and only girls were allowed to be my
friends. When girls talk at that age, all we talk about are the boys. I
even wanted to date all the 'hunks' we talked about like the other girls
did.
Look, even now when I am alone, and not thinking about it, I still
default to the feminine way of thinking. I have been permanently changed
by that woman. I will never be a man, and I will never regain the boyhood
I lost.
I cry again. I feel so helpless. I can never be a real woman, and I
can never be a real man. I know I could love this man, Peter, but I can
never be the woman he would want. I felt so... safe in his arms. Safer
than I have ever felt since my parents died. I wasn't safe in my foster
home, that is for sure. And dating the few guys I dated in high school as
cover for my true identity was constantly terrifying.
I need something to do, I decide, and get up from the couch. Quickly
I rearrange my clothing and look around.
He was right, he did keep a neat house for a bachelor, but he did not
have the training that I got at the hands of Mistress during my change.
She demanded an immaculate house on top of all my other responsibilities.
If I didn't find school as easy as I did, I would have been in trouble. I
had very little time in which to study and do homework. I took many a
beating for not failing math and science, despite the good job I did in
home economics.
I make a decision right there; to get my mind off the guilt I had for
masturbating over Peter, I clean the house.
I start in the living room after finding the cleaning supplies in a
small closet off the hall, and I tour the house giving it a good cleaning.
The library and the kitchen are the easiest, most kept up rooms. The spare
bathroom that I used is dirty only from my little use. I decide to avoid
cleaning his office as there are probably private things in there I should
not see. Finally as I clean the hall to the end, I find myself at the door
to his room.
I wonder. Should I go in? I don't know.
Almost of its own will, my hand reaches out to the doorknob. It is as
if I am outside my body, unable to control myself. I walk in, and look
around.
The room is filled with his scent. It smells exactly as he smelled
this morning when I hugged him.
My cock begins to tremor, and semi-harden. I try to think of other
things.
I walk around with the duster and lightly clean things as I go around.
Actually, I wave the duster in the air as I snoop into his stuff. Then I
see it.
There is a box, half protruding out of his closet.
I can't stop myself. I peer into the box, and what I see immediately
makes me sit on the floor beside it. It is full of what can only be termed
mementoes. There are some earrings, some clothing, some letters and some
pictures. It was one picture in particular that caught my eye. It was
right on top.
It was peter and some woman, standing together at a party, and she was
showing off a ring she was wearing.
What does this mean I kept asking myself as I stared at the picture.
I didn't understand it. Then I found what put it all together.
The letter and the ring taped to it.
It was plain what it was. It was obviously a dear john letter. Who
could ever think Peter wasn't worth sticking with? I wished that I was
that girl in the picture, just given this spectacular ring, and having
everyone know I was his.
I tried on the ring, to see if it fit, and incredibly, it did. Then I
picked up the letter and began to read.
* * *
Dear Pete,
By the time you read this I will have left. I am going to Acapulco
with Raoul. You know him. He was the guy you hired to do your
landscaping. Well, he is a much better lover than you will ever be. I
fucked him the first time three months ago when I came over to surprise you
for your birthday. It was great.
You see, I came home from work, naked except for a bow on my chest. I
know it was risky, but I needed a thrill. I was going to surprise you in
your office. You would unwrap me, and we would have passionate love. I
was going to make you good. Needless to say you were not there. You had
left for your last minute business trip. I knew you were screwing around,
and I was hurt. That's when Raoul came in.
He must have seen me going from my car to the house, and followed me
in through the open door. I didn't know he was there watching me until he
reached his hands around me and began massaging my tits. I was scared at
first, but then I felt his cock rising between my still damp legs, and I
lost control. I turned in his arms and looked him in the eyes. I only had
to say one thing.
Fuck me.
He grabbed me by the thighs, and lifted me up. I wrapped my legs
around his waist, and his cock naturally slid deep into my wet and waiting
pussy, and when I say deep, Pete, I mean deep. His cock was no less than
ten inches long. Much more than you have dearie.
Anyway, he carried me that way, sucking occasionally on my breasts,
into your bedroom. There he laid me on the bed, lifted my legs over his
shoulders and slammed deeply into me over and over. He lasted longer than
you ever did, and I was able to orgasm just by his stroking. When he was
spent, he traced kisses down my body, and began to eat me out.
Now I know, I said you were good at that, but I lied. It was only
because I knew no better. He had skill unlike any I had ever seen before.
He had me on the ragged edge of orgasm for an hour before finally he let me
crash over it. When he presented his cock to me, I accepted it in my
mouth. He pleased me so much, I felt it was right to suck him off as well.
Again I know I never sucked you. I thought It was sick. But when he
gave me his cock it all felt so natural, and when he blew his second load
in my mouth I swallowed. I liked the taste so much, that over that weekend
I did not let him blow his load anywhere else but in my mouth. The only
load I did not swallow after the first one in my pussy, was the one in my
ass.
Yes, I even had anal sex with him. I did many things I did not do
with you. He possessed me, and I liked it. It was not like you and your
pussy fairy ways. I was sick of your, niceness. I wanted a man, not a
partner. I found it in Raoul thanks to that weekend, and every Wednesday
night thereafter until now.
Oh, and when I said all weekend, I mean all weekend. We used your
bed, in your house, and fucked all weekend long. I get some satisfaction
in telling you that. Here I was, your fiancee, in your house having an
affair on you. Even when I found out you were not cheating on me, I didn't
care. I was over you. I had better.
I finally enjoyed sex. I had it in my pussy, in my ass and down my
throat. I did it standing, sitting, man above woman above, doggie style.
I even had a threesome with double penetration, and A lesbian affair. I
was finally awoken. And all, strangely enough, thanks to you. So, you
dumb bastard, I have decided. Your possible earnings in a few years are
not enough to keep me. I want sex that I just think you can't give. I am
running away with Raoul.
Good riddance.
Millie.
* * *
"That bitch" I scream. How could she do such a thing to poor Peter.
There is so little kindness in the world. I should know.
I wanted to kill her. I wanted to make her see her mistake. I
wanted... Peter.
I stopped all thinking, but I knew it was true. I wanted to be
Peter's wife with all my heart. Here was someone I trusted for the first
time in my life. He was kind, and gentle. He was just the man I wanted.
I would do anything to get him to love me, and when I had the money, I
would have a pussy manufactured between my legs, and I would be his woman.
I would do anything he wanted from me in the bedroom. I'd...
Just then I heard the car drive up the driveway. I panic. I pull the
ring off my finger, shove it in the envelope with the letter and shove them
in to the box. I shuffle everything back into order, and then I vacate his
room. I am able to just meet him at the door.
* * *
"I'll just start the roast cooking and then we'll go get your car." he
says as he carries the groceries in to the kitchen.
She shuts the door behind him, and follows him to the kitchen. She
tries to find a way to tell him something, but she can't figure out how.
He notices her squirming and asks her what she wants to say.
"Well, It's not that good an idea to leave an oven going while no one
is in the house."
"Yes, I know that, but I wanted to make you a welcome home meal to
celebrate your choice to stay here until you have an on campus house or
something."
"I see," she continues. "Well, I don't really need my car tonight.
Tomorrow is a weekend, and we could go in the morning."
"Are you sure?" he replies, "don't you want to change?"
"I have something to change into, I washed my things today."
"Well, if you are sure."
They smile at the happy compromise, and then they set to making the
meal.
Once the dinner is in the oven and cooking, she leaves to go change,
and he decides to take a shower and change as well. When they step out of
their rooms, they look each other over and smile at what they see. Walking
together down the hallway, they go to the living room.
She is wearing the skirt and sweater he found her in, but in addition,
she has added the stockings he gave her, a tee shirt under the V-neck
sweater and the heels she was wearing yesterday. He assumes she is wearing
the underwear he also got her from the box.
He is in nice dockers, loafers, and a good button down. His hair is
neatly combed back, and he has put on some cologne.
Once in the living room, they talk about their days, and about what
Nancy is thinking she wants to become. When the conversation starts to
wane, Nancy turns on the stereo, and light dance music begins to play.
They talk about music for a while. Finally the dinner is done. They get
up and get everything to the dinner table.
With dinner, Peter pours some wine, and proposes a toast.
"To Nancy, and luck in the school year to come."
They raise their glasses and toast, Nancy drinking wine for the first
time ever, and then they start to eat. During the meal, Peter gives Nancy
a wrapped present. When she opens it, she sees the course catalog to the
local college. She smiles and thanks him profusely, and they continue to
eat, in silence this time.
Soon the meal is through, and together they clean up. They take the
wine, and retire to the living room and continue to talk. They talk late
into the night, and drink all that time. Suddenly, Nancy jumps up, and
grabs Peter's hand.
"Dance with me please, Peter. I love this song."
He can tell she is lightly drunk, but he decides why not. What's the
harm.
They dance a while, stopping only to drink a little more.
Finally, it is well past midnight, and the dance program on the radio
is done. The two don't part, however. Peter looks down, and sees Nancy
looking up at him. He realizes he is holding her rather close to himself.
She, looking up at him, sees the same in reverse. She smiles, and
then she raises herself up on her tip toes. Closing her eyes, she kisses
him lingeringly on the lips.
He resists a moment, but before she is discouraged, he grabs her
tightly, and begins to kiss her back passionately. His tongue flicks out,
and finding a willing partner, he begins to explore her mouth with his
tongue.
The kiss lasts at least ten minutes, but then as quickly as it
started, it ends.
Peter breaks the embrace and backs off. He looks at her with an
almost fear in his eyes.
He stammers. "I think... maybe... we... it's bedtime. We should go
to bed."
After bidding him a hasty goodnight, Nancy runs off to the library,
and closes the door.
Soon after, Peter closes up the house, and goes to bed himself.
* * *
I am such a fool. Why did I ever kiss him like that? He's repulsed;
I know. He sent me away. It was only because he is so kind that he said
it so nicely.
I sit on the futon and cry.
I am sure I'll be asked to leave in the morning. He'll ask me to get
in my car when we get it and drive away. How can he live in a house where
he knows I want him. He's not gay or anything, he won't want a half male
girlfriend.
Hours pass, and I cry and berate myself for stepping over the line.
Finally I can cry no more, and I decide to be nice to him in the morning.
'Maybe,' I think, 'if I am nice enough to him, he will let me stay.'
The thought lifts my spirits a little, and I am able to undress, and
climb into bed.
Soon I fall into a fitful sleep.
* * *
I can't believe myself. What was I thinking? I stepped way over the
line. I took advantage of her. Here she was, under the influence, and I
take a harmless peck and turn it into a tongue wrestling session.
I sit on the couch and reflect on what I have done.
I broke her trust. Here she was probably doing no more than thanking
me for dancing with her and I practically assault her. It's not like she
wants an old man like me for a boyfriend or anything.
I make a resolution to myself. I will be extra kind to her, and maybe
she won't leave me.
I smile to myself at the reassurance, and lock up the house. Then I
go to bed.
My sleep is disturbed with dreams of her.
* * *
The next morning she is up early. She showers, and dresses in the
jeans and tee-shirt outfit. Walking into the kitchen, she notices he is
not awake yet, and decides to make him breakfast for a change. She is just
finishing when he comes into the room.
He has dressed himself in much the same sort of clothes. Showing
genuine surprise at her having made breakfast, he gets to setting the
table.
Finally, they sit, and enjoy the meal together in silence.
Once finished, he thanks her and compliments her on her good cooking.
She smiles her thanks, and begins clearing the dishes.
He helps her, and asks if she is ready to go get her stuff. He can
drive her over.
She thanks him, and accepts.
Once the cleaning is done, they sit a moment to finish their coffees,
and studiously avoid looking at each other. Finally, he breaks the
silence.
"I... well... about last night."
"I'm sorry," she hastily responds. "I didn't mean it. I should have
never kissed you like that."
"Oh no, I was wrong. Here you were, a guest, and I almost assault
you."
"But, I'm... Well.. You know about me. I shouldn't have put you in
that position to begin with."
"Huh? Oh that! That's nothing. I didn't really think of that at
all. I just thought that after I had turned an innocent kiss into a
necking session, you would get offended. I didn't want you thinking wrong
of me."
She sits silently, staring at him in confusion. Thoughts swim in her
head. He doesn't find me repulsive... He liked kissing me... He thought
it was him and not me doing the wrong thing in that situation..
For that matter, he is struck with confusion as well. I really don't
mind that she is really a he. He thinks. I mean, I actually don't mind at
all... I could date this girl and be happy... What is wrong with me?
Although, she is a better woman than SHE ever was...
They sit silently for a while, trying to work things though when
finally he stands. He takes her empty mug, and his, and brings them to the
sink. When he turns from rinsing them, she is standing silently beside
him. She hugs him tightly, and he just holds her. She cries in his arms
for a little, and then pulls away. She looks up, and smiles, and says one
thing.
"Friends?"
"Yes. I think so." is the only way he can respond. "Well, we're
burning daylight. Time to go."
She continues to smile, and lifts up on her toes again. Quickly
kissing him on the lips, she turns and runs to the room he has lent her.
She gets what she needs, and returns to the kitchen. He for his part, is
still standing where she left him with a half grin on his face.
He snaps out of it, and follows her out of the house. He holds the
door to his jeep open for her, and then he gets in himself. Within moments
they are on the road, and off to get her car.
* * *
I can't believe it. He actually doesn't mind me. Doesn't mind that I
am really half man, half woman. I'm sure he doesn't love me, but he won't
make me leave.
I sit in his jeep, and watch him from the side of my eyes. He is just
so handsome. His strong forearms deftly putting his car through it's paces
and his beautiful eyes so intent on the road just draw my attention.
It takes us a little while, but all too soon, we are at the little
park where the rape happened. I can't help but shudder, and get
apprehensive. The events of that night not so long ago repeat in my head.
He has stopped the jeep, and is at my door holding it open for me
before I notice. I look over, and he must see the fear in my eyes. He
holds his arms out for me, and I go to him. He whispers in my ear,
"I'm here. I won't leave you. I promise."
I sigh, wishing he were saying that to me in Love, but I know he is
just being his kind self, and have to settle for that.
Still in his arms, we begin walking to where I parked my car. It was
in a secluded portion of the park, and was somewhat of a walk to get to.
In a pleasant little while, we were there. That is when I began to cry
again. My car had been broken into.
I know it was not that much of a car. I had bought it with the
proceeds of many summer jobs that I saved up, and didn't spend. I had been
planning my escape since I was thirteen, and had prepared everything. I
knew I would need a car to escape, and so I saved, and made a deal with an
old lady to buy her old vehicle. And now, here it was, broken into and
vandalized.
Peter left my side, and began looking over the car. I stood and cried
until he came back, and held me again.
"It's alright. I don't think anything much is taken."
"But they hurt my car."
He smiled. "I don't think it is hurt at all. There seem to be no
windows broken, and there is no vandalism. I think it was just a few winos
looking for money."
"Are you sure?"
"I am."
I could not help but smile for him when he leaned down and kissed my
forehead. He helped me into the car, and handed me his house key.
"Will you be alright going home alone? I have a few things I have to
do, but I will be there right after you."
I told him I thought so. I knew how to get back, and thought I could
begin unpacking my car and seeing what was missing.
He told me that the closets in the library were empty, and that he had
a few dressers that he would move in for me when he got back. He closed my
door, and waited while I started the motor. Then he watched me drive away.
I drove back in a daze, and then, when I got to his house, I began
unpacking. It took me quite a while, and I did not notice when Peter
returned.
I was just finishing putting away all my clothes that needed to be
hung in the closet, and I turned around to see him standing in the doorway
and just looking at me with this sort of half smile on his face. When he
noticed I was looking back at him, he seemed to startle out of a trance,
and began to look away. He muttered something about having to move some of
the books to take down the shelves if I wanted to have dressers.
I smiled as I replied that I didn't mind the books, I actually quite
liked to read. I couldn't help but notice him blushing.
In the end, we came to a compromise. Some of the books were really
work books, and he would put them in the office. Then, the remainder would
be split between our bedrooms, and we could share them that way. He set me
to removing the sections of books that now would reside in the office,
while he went out to the barn, and collected the dressers and a vanity
table he said he had.
In a few hours, we had over two thirds of the books, and bookcases,
gone, he had delivered the furniture he had promised, and I had it all
filled. We finished about ten that evening, and decided a quick meal of
leftovers, and bed soon after, was much preferred.
We talked a little during dinner, and when we finished, he bade me
goodnight. I ran up to him, and gave him a quick kiss, and then I ran to
my room. I couldn't help but giggle like a little girl. I knew one thing.
I loved him.
* * *
I watched her leave the park, and I couldn't help but feel sorry for
her. She had been raped, and then she had her car broken into. I don't
know how anyone deserved that. Once she had gone, I walked back to my
jeep, and got in.
I went over in my head what I was going to have to get at the hardware
store to make a better bed for her, and the things I would need to relocate
the shelves to my bedroom.
The trip to the hardware and lumber store was quick, and, since
delivery was free, all I had to do was order what I wanted, and pay. The
trip home was even faster, all I thought of was her.
When I finally got home, I went in, and walked down the hall to her
room. She was leaning into her closet hanging things away, and her beauty
just caught me. Her tee-shirt was riding up, and it was revealing the
nicest waistline I had seen in a long time.
The way her hair was rolled up in a bun was also catching my eye. The
little wisps that snuck out on her, and tickled her long pale neck. The
way her breasts seemed to peek around her chest and under her arm at me and
the way her tight ass flexed when she reached up on tip toe to put a box or
some such thing up high, turned me on more than I ever imagined possible.
I didn't ever once think of her as anything other than "her".
I didn't realize I was staring, however, until she finished, and
turned around and looked at me staring at her. I was flustered, and could
feel the blood rush to my face as I looked away. We discussed what plans I
had made for her room, and she smiled, and accepted most everything I
planned. She only balked at my offer to take all the books out of her
room. We finally compromised, and all was well.
For quite a few hours after that, we worked together, side by side
often, and got her room shipshape. We elected not to have a real meal for
dinner, but I enjoyed it nonetheless. When finally we said our goodnights,
I was surprised but happy when she gave me a quick kiss. I went to bed
happy, and you know why?
I could not help but think, 'I love this girl.'
* * *
Time passes as time does. In days, her room is completed, and she
settles down to begin her schooling. The topic of her moving out when
school started is never brought up, and consequently she never leaves their
home. He, for his part, goes back to working in his home office, and helps
her out with any problems that arise.
When her school transcripts are held up, he gets her a scholarship
through his company and sends it with a letter stating that any delay in
her entrance would displease the company. A small, but effective, lie due
to the fact that the company aids the school in a lot of its computing
needs.
When he asked her why her transcripts were probably delayed, however,
she became apprehensive, and uncharacteristically of her, she clammed up.
He dropped the matter, but kept it in the back of his mind. This puzzle he
felt was something she needed to get out in order to heal. She had told
him all about the rape, and she had since seemed to have put it behind her,
but this thing was different, and still with her.
He remembered it vividly one day while working on a problem in his
office. She had just popped her head in the door to say goodbye before
going to classes for the day. She was wearing mostly what she had been
wearing the day he had found her, and it triggered his memory of the story
she had related.
* * *
I had been sitting in my living room watching a movie. She came in
from the kitchen, and she was bringing with her a bowl of popcorn. She was
smiling, and remarked that she had finally finished her homework, and would
I mind if she watched the tube with me. I, of course, did not, and she
settled herself on the couch beside me, curled her feet up beneath her, and
placed the bowl between us. It sort of rested on both of our thighs,
bridging the gap, as it were.
Anyway, we were watching an old Vietnam movie, (I had asked if she
wanted to change it, and she said she didn't mind) when there was this rape
scene. I almost didn't realize the significance in time, and was only just
able to switch off the channel.
She was sitting there, and staring at the tv, when I looked over. She
didn't move for quite a while as I asked her if she was alright. Then she
just went berserk.
She jumped off the couch spewing popcorn all over. She was wailing
something terrible, and I just chased her. I followed her to her room, and
grabbed her, hugging her to me. She beat her hands against my chest for a
while, but finally she began to calm. She sobbed into my shirt, and
clenched her hands in the fabric.
I just held her tightly in a hug, and whispered soothing things into
her hair. Finally her sobs slowed, and her arms wrapped around me and
hugged me tightly. In a little while, she pulled away from me, and looked
up. She thanked me for being there, and I asked her if she wanted to talk
about it. She nodded, and I led her to the kitchen where I made us some
coffee. I sat beside her and listened to her talk.
* * *
I sat there beside him for a little while, still collecting myself
over that cup of coffee. When I was able to finally speak, I spun out the
tale of my rape.
I had just entered town, and I was tired of driving. I saw the park,
and since it was such a beautiful evening, I decided to take a walk by the
pond. The sun was just going down, and I thought the sunset would be
beautiful. I don't know how long I sat there on that bench after the sun
was gone and I heard the voices. I wasn't scared, but they did cause me to
remember the time, and think about finding somewhere to stay.
I was walking back to my car in a dark tree-covered part of the park
when they came upon me. There were seven of them. Young men in leather
and carrying bottles of alcohol, shouting and laughing in the dark. I
tried to get past them without them noticing, but one of them did see me,
and brought it to the attention of the others.
They started with the whistles and comments about how nice my legs and
breasts looked, and then they got up and began following me. I noticed
them behind me, and began to walk faster. I don't know if that was the
wrong thing or not, but it seemed to get them more rowdy. When one said
something about how I would look nice with my legs spread, I knew what they
were thinking, and decided to run.
I was slower than I know I could be because of the high heels I
insisted on wearing, and worst of all, before I could get to the lighter
part of the park, I tripped. In moments they were all around me.
I pleaded and begged for them to leave me alone, that I knew they
didn't want to get into trouble over something like this. They just
laughed and drank their wine and leered at me. I was backing away, when
the first one moved.
One of them, standing in front of me, grabbed my ankle, and dragged me
towards him. I was pulled prone by the violent pull, and another quickly
jumped into the act. He grabbed my right arm, and pulled it tightly to the
side. In moments I had a man at each of my arms and legs, and I was being
pulled spread eagled.
The leader I guess, reached down, and at the insistence of his gang,
he grabbed roughly at my breasts. He commented to the others how nice and
big and firm they were, as he massaged and pulled them through my shirt.
Then he reached down, and whipped up my skirt. Seeing that I had on only a
garterbelt and panties under it, he flipped open a switchblade and Cut the
side band of my panties.
That is when things started going real bad.
The man pulled my panties off roughly, and exposed what resided there
between my legs. My cock, hidden until now was fully exposed to their
view. They just stopped and stared. I fought to get loose, and that
seemed to spur them to action.
"This chick is a man!" one screamed. "We'll make him a woman tonight
though, won't we boys." the leader responded. I tried to scream, to fight,
to do anything, but they held tightly to me, and the leader shoved my
panties in my mouth. I was quickly stripped of my clothing, and they
spared no time on buttons or such whenever they slowed them down. They
used the knife or ripped them off forcibly whenever they wished.
Whenever I tried to fight back, or escape, I was punched or slapped.
One time I was even kicked. Finally, when I could do no more, I just cried
and let them do as they wished. The leader took me first.
He had his gang hold me in the 'doggie' style, and without any care
for me, he drove himself roughly into me. He took my ass fast and rough,
and came deep within my ass. As soon as he was done, the next took his
place. Then another. It all sort of started to blend together. I vaguely
remember the one that came on my face, and the one that put his cigarette
out on me.
I was
subjected to each of them at least twice each until finally they stopped.
I curled myself into a ball, wrapping the shreds of cloth still on me
about my naked body, and only slightly heard them talking above me. I
think they were trying to decide wether or not to kill me. That is when
Peter came.
He came down the hill, shouting at them to clear out. I think that
they were about to rush him, and beat him or something when all of a sudden
they ran away. I was startled at their rapid departure, and looked up to
see what had sent them away.
There was Peter. He was wielding a pistol, and looking at the
direction they left in. When they were gone long enough for him, he looked
down at me, and smiled an apologetic smile. All I could tell him when he
asked if I wanted some help was "no police... please... no police."
That is when I passed out.
* * *
He remembers all this, and is lost in daydreaming about her. He
wastes a day without realizing it until she walks into his office, and
shakes his attention to her. He smiles and makes small excuses for his
lapse of attention, but she just laughs them off. She tells him that he
needs a vacation.
He agrees with her, but tells her that since his Fiancee left him, he
had not wanted to go anywhere but to work. He didn't know what there was
to do anymore. The sudden thought of his ex-fiancee strikes him, and his
face drops a little. "The damn bitch" He whispers quietly, and balls a
hand into a fist, then with a shake, he tries to ignore the feelings.
He chuckles softly, and makes to go back to work, when she stops him
with a gentle hand to the arm. She hugs his head to her stomach where she
stands beside her, and strokes his hair. Trapped in this soft embrace, he
just lets go his emotions and cries. She soothes him with quiet words, and
tells him she knows all about it. Tells him it wasn't his fault, she was
just wrong, and he deserved better. Someone that cared for him. Someone
who cared as much as she does...
There was an awkward moment of silence as he raised his face to look
at her. She seemed surprised to have said what she said, but she didn't
turn away. Finally, to break the silence, he stands up before her, and
embraces her in a tight hug. He thanks her for saying such a kind thing to
him, and for helping him through a rough moment.
She told him she didn't mind, and she would leave him now to finish up
work for the day. Dinner would be ready in a little while. She smiled to
him, squeezed him tightly one last time and left the room. He sat down and
thought over what had been said, and explored exactly what he felt about
it.
* * *
Why oh why did I ever say that? I mean, I was pushing things too
hard. I know he needed comforting and all that, he was hurting from the
way he was dumped by that bitch of a fiancee. I was there and I cared for
him, so I held him until the crying was done. It was only something a good
friend would do up until that point, then I had to say that I cared about
him. Oh Nancy, why do you always do these things to yourself?
I left him as quickly as I could and went in to the kitchen. I
finished the preparations for supper that I had started, and waited for his
eventual arrival.
* * *
It was amazing. She was so right, about everything. I did need a
vacation. The Bitch was wrong. I did deserve better.
I started to really think about the past few months we had been living
together. All the things we continually did for each other, the little
things. The way we would spend our nights together when she didn't have
any homework to do. The way she and I shared the household chores. The
bitch never even lived in what I wanted to be our home half as much as she
does now. We were as close as two people ever get. And she was right
about one more thing too...
I needed someone who cared as much as she does... I needed her.
* * *
In a little while, he entered the kitchen. She was standing at the
sink, washing out the lettuce for a salad. He stepped up behind her and
wrapped her tightly in a hug. She smiled and leaned back into his arms
reflexively.
"You are right," he said, " I do need a vacation. What are you doing
this weekend?"
"It's a long weekend for me this week, what do you have planned?"
"Well, I haven't planned anything yet, because I wanted you to come
with me."
She smiled, "Why would you want to do a thing like that? You should
have some time off by yourself."
"I've been alone for too long. I want to be with you. Will you go?"
She turned within his arms slowly and looked him in the eyes. "Is
this what you want?" There was only a small hint of nervousness in her
voice.
"Definitely. I can think of no one I'd rather be with."
He slowly leaned down, his intent clear, and she responded quickly.
In moments they were kissing, lightly at first, but with an increasing
passion. He pulled her in tightly to him, and she responded by pressing
her breasts to his chest and opening her mouth to his tongue. Finally, a
short while later, they broke from each other and just looked into each
other's eyes.
She took his hand, and turning off the stove, she dragged him down the
hall to his bedroom. Once there, she fell into his arms again and once
more was kissing him. He did not hesitate on minute, and soon was
caressing her whole body while he held her close. Then, she stopped him
once more.
"Are you sure you want to go further, you know what I am..."
"Of course I do. You are a person that I have fallen in love with and
you seem to have fallen in love with me."
"I have"
"Then how can there be a problem?"
 
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