Loading...Sunday Morning in early March. I joined the regulars for coffee after a disappointing Saturday night; I hate to be part of a closing crowd, and so I’d left the Paradise Bar with fifteen minutes to go before the bitter end. It’s my age, I suppose. As fine as I know myself to be at thirty-five, I just don’t feel like competing at singles bars any more. So there I was, listening to the morning-after banter about the night before: Who did, who didn’t, who got lucky, who got away.
“How about you, Elaine?” someone asked.
“No, I didn’t find what I was looking for,” I admitted.
“You didn’t, baby? Well, maybe you weren’t looking the right way.” The quiet, husky voice was so close to my ear that it sounded like it was inside my head. I swung around— and stared into the green eyes of an angel. A boy not much more than nineteen, those eyes belonged to, along with a tip-tilted nose, rosy mouth curved into a mischievous smile, golden skin and a mop of blond hair cut in one of those half-shaved hairstyles so popular on the campuses.
“My name’s Robby,” the cherub said. “Can I call you Lainie? ‘Cause you sure don’t look like no E — e — laine to me, Baby.” And he licked his lips at me. “Mmnn.”
Those lips were much too close. I pulled back to get a better look at him, but in the middle of winter it’s hard to see much more than a person’s taste in sweaters. His was an old white cableknit. He perched on the stool next to me, dangling long slender legs clad in faded Levis and high top tennies. The creature, meanwhile, was eyeing me, too.
“I saw you, at the Paradise last night,” he said. “I was gonna come get you, and you disappeared. What did you do, leave early? I was heartbroken, baby — you just broke my heart.” He shook his head sadly.
Three things occurred to me. One was that, however fine a woman I am, I don’t usually get teenage succubi staring sweetly into my eyes with no effort on my part. Another was that this kid had more than kissed the Blarney stone: He must have chewed a piece right off. And thirdly, if he’d been at the Paradise last night, I would have known it. That cornsilk hair of his would have drawn my eye — and the Paradise doesn’t allow minors, in any case.
“I didn’t see you,” was my brilliant retort.
“Yeah, you were looking the wrong way,” he grinned. “If you looked back by the blue wall, you’d have seen me okay.”
I thought back, puzzled. That corner has its own crowd. Women mostly, they keep to themselves and don’t exactly welcome men into their space… Oh.
“Surprised?” Robby chuckled. “I could’a kept you fooled, right up until I got you home, but I believe in honesty, you know? So, I’m a woman — but not the woman you are, baby.”
“…Robby?” The female version of the boy looked to be about twenty-five.
“Roberta. My daddy’s ego was as big as the sea.” She made an expansive gesture. “Ooh, Lainie… I want you so bad.”
“That line never works,” I said, irritated. Her father had passed on his ego to his daughter, in my estimation. Those eyes, however, burned with the same fire they’d had before the deception was unveiled.
“Yeah, it works,” she said. “it works all the time — because it ain’t a line. I want you, I want you. It’s the truth. I was watching you all night. You scared me so bad I couldn’t talk to you… And then I get my courage together and you’re gone… I’m riding by some damned cafe next morning and there you are. So I get a second chance. Come with me now, baby? No sweat, I swear. If you change your mind, you can walk right out, I won’t raise a hand to stop you. I can make you so happy… Or I’ll die trying.” She cocked her head at me to see how this went down.
In spite of myself I was intrigued. Her voice still sounded like a boy’s, and no man had ever declared himself to me in such passionate words. I leaned back.
“Talk to me,” I suggested. That got a glint out of the green eyes and she settled herself to do my bidding.
“Lainie, come on. You deserve the best, baby, and that’s me. I wanna take your hair out of that braid and strip you out of that suit. What’re you wearing a suit for, anyway? It’s Sunday morning, baby. You ought to be in the raw, right now, crying in my bed… I could pin you down with one finger, I know just where to put it.” There was a lot more along these lines before she paused for breath. I was getting the feeling that she meant it. She surveyed my face, a smile hovering at the corners of her mouth.
“I’m getting to you, ain’t I? Oh, I can see what you’re gonna look like when you come… Oh, god, Lainie, if you don’t say “Yes” I’m gonna go down on my knees right here and embarrass the shit out of you.” She shifted her weight on the stool. Alarmed, I put out a hand to stop her; she flinched away. “Oh, baby, don’t touch me. Just say ‘yes’, okay?”
I could see that she could keep up the patter longer than I could hold out. I was ready for an adventure. My life had gotten so constricted and structured. What was I doing in a suit on a Sunday, anyway? Robbie was right. In fact she was so right, with her fire and ego, her unstoppable demands. I used to do “firsts,” eagerly, gladly. I wanted her youth. And besides, she’d almost convinced me, with her promises of heaven. I took a deep breath: “All right, Robbie, I’ll say ‘Yes.'”
She leaned back, satisfied at last. “Ooh,” she said, “now everybody can watch me getting lucky. Don’t worry about your reputation, I’ll be a boy all the way out the door.” And she was, I followed, suddenly conscious that everyone was watching me get lucky… and didn’t that boy look like jailbait?
“Lainie, Lainie Lainie,” she chanted, vaulting the three steps down to the pavement, “can I throw my bike into your trunk?”
It was a massive, dull black thing. She took a wheel off to make it fit, and set it in as if it were made of gold, producing a bungee cord to secure my trunk lid. In the car she ran out of conversation. But her body took over, fidgeting restlessly in the seat, switching from boy to girl as I glanced over. It was fascinating. Once she looked over at me and grinned shyly.
“You make me nervous,” she explained.
I didn’t believe her for one minute, but she was making me feel panicky. All her patter was having its effect on me and I wished she’d start talking again. But that was all I got out of her, except for tersely delivered directions. As I’d surmised, she lived by the university. She’d ridden a long way on a cold morning. Unless she was lying and had gone home with someone in my neighborhood. It was certainly possible…
Once we got to her brownstone, and she’d stabled her beast in the hallway,she became gentlemanly, shepherding me up the stairs her hand on my back, and stepping aside to let me enter first. A typical student’s apartment, instant nostalgia, with a minimum of furniture and an overload of books. A big desk held a very large computer system, and a weight training machine, black and forbidding, took up a further quarter of the room. But her bedroom had real furniture. A four-poster bed plus an assortment of pieces, that had been made into a suite by the application of wild swirls of color. That, too reminded me of my student days, but for the sure hand and sense of color that emanated from it. I didn’t have much time to look at it, however. Robby came and planted herself in front of me, raising her hands to touch my face whisper light, and then to pull the clip out of my hair, shaking it out around my shoulders.
“That’s better… can I take your coat?” and she helped me out of it, shrugging off her own anorak and took them out of the room. Back she came to me, and laid her fingers on the buttons of my jacket. Suddenly I wasn’t so sure… I thought I’d hidden my trepidation, but somehow she knew. She tilted my head up. I let myself drown in her green eyes and met her kiss. She brushed my lips softly with hers.
“Anytime you want to leave, baby, don’t forget,” and some of those amazing promises she’d made flashed through my mind. I unbuttoned the jacket myself.
“Oh, my,” she sighed. And true to her word, she stripped me out of my suit, piece by piece, expressing with words and kisses the most extravagant awe and delight as she unveiled me. I couldn’t even take refuge in disbelief; she was so specific about what she was in love with. My shoulders, my armpits — she raised my arms high to get at them. My collarbone, her tongue traced a line along it that made it hard to stand up. She loved my bra and made it disappear. She loved my breasts, with her lips and gentle nips of her teeth. I was still standing because she hadn’t gotten to my hips yet. Down with the zipper and off with the skirt. Robby didn’t approve of my pantyhose, they were in the way. I was willing to see her point. Off they came, and my flats. Robby looked down at them, bemused.
“Pappagallo,” she said wonderingly. “You don’t add up, sugar. On the one hand you’re such a prissy little thing. But the look I got from you showed me some kind of fire that was coming all the way from your cunt… Oh, baby, you must just explode in bed— I gotta find out.” And she knelt before me and opened her mouth.
The first touch of her lips to my clitoris pulled a moan from me that was almost a scream, after the frustrations of the night before, and all her words this morning. And then — she sucked. She sucked and pulled my clit, my lips, all of it — into her mouth, I could feel her tongue forcing its way into my insides. It felt huge, and all of the blood in my body was racing towards her sucking mouth… I clutched at her honey hair, silkier than a man’s could ever be, the plush of the shaven side a new texture too, and she relented. Still in her jeans and sweater she became a boy again. Her gender shifts were dizzying, and I wanted his — or her — body in my view. I tugged at the sweater. She looked up, her mouth smeared with my cream.
“You want me to?” she asked, “because you don’t have to do anything for me, you know… I can keep ’em on if it helps.”
“No, Robby, take your clothes off.”
“All of them?”
“Yeah, everything.” And suddenly I was on the four-poster, watching her pull the sweater off, and the white tee-shirt that was under it, and wriggle out of her Levis.
Naked, she was almost as confusing as she was clothed. Her legs were solid muscle, right up to her buttocks, which were shaped like a woman’s. In fact, I realized her whole body was muscle, but shaped differently than the men I’d known. She was shaped like a woman. She looked awesomely strong, a little frightening. The cock and balls I could not stop myself from expecting were, in fact there. She wore a silicone dildo of a kind I’d never seen before, shaped like a flaccid penis, hanging from a small and soft elastic strap. “We don’t need nothing like this, huh, sugar?” Robby said, and flipped the rig open and stepped out of it. “Not this time, anyways.”
Her pubic patch was corngold, straight and fine and seemed more feminine than my dark bush. Her breasts, too, were not the meager things I’d somehow imagined, but lovely, small and firm, and set over massive pectorals.
“I lift weights,” she explained, grinning. She raised an arm and popped a bicep.
“Looks serious,” I said. She came over to the bed and surveyed me.
“You look serious too, sugar…. Look at you, laying there with your pussy wide open.” I made to close my legs, but she stopped me with her hands on my knees. “No darlin’, it’s too late for that. You are so fine, what have you got to be ashamed of? What do you call it?”
“What?” I said breathlessly; her hands were sliding up my inner thighs toward ‘it’.
“This, baby, what do you call it?” Her hands had found their target and were asking their own questions.
“Uh… Vagina?” I had a feeling this wasn’t the answer she wanted and I was right. She threw herself over me, resting her considerable weight fully on me. One hand answered my prayers by staying were it was, while the other opened new avenues of inquiry on my neck and breasts. Robby began a language lesson.
“Look, baby. Doctors can say vagina — what you got down there is your cunt.” She grinned at my look of distaste. “Cu — uunnt… Oh, you prissy little princess, you’re a cunt. Yes, you are, you’re a cooze.” Her fingers demonstrated the words’ meanings. “You think you got it all down, but you ain’t fooling me, bitch — let’s hear you say it.”
“Ummf!” Her mouth covered mine, her tongue sliding down my throat. Her mouth wasn’t letting me say anything, and I was pretty sure I didn’t like what was happening at all — wasn’t this the kind of thing that lesbians are supposed to hate about men? I’d never had a man try to bully me this way. I pushed at her angrily until she raised her weight off me a little.
“What the hell are you doing?” I panted. Oh, those angel eyes…
“You don’t like it? That ain’t what your cunt is telling me.” My cunt was wholly in agreement with her, I realized. “You’re getting hotter and wetter by the second, baby. Let’s hear it now, say ‘I’m a cunt.'”
“Oh, Robby….”
She rolled us over, pulling me down on top of her, her fingers never stopping their pulsating rhythm. “Get up a little,” she murmured. I lifted my hips for her.
“Why should I say…” There was more to say, but it wasn’t verbal. There was a big question that was about to be answered. I clung to her, the new feeling of breasts against mine, and then her teeth at my nipple… and then suddenly it wasn’t working anymore. The burn damped down to a lower heat. I could feel her fingers, but not the pounding rhythm of life they’d been giving me. I ground against her hand trying to find it, and she chuckled.
“Blackmail,” she said voluptuously, and her fingers gave me a taste to prove it. I groaned. “I got you in the palm of my hand, baby. Come on, Lainie… Take that word back from the men, sweet girl, make it yours again, that’s what I want you to do. It comes from the same root as ‘center’, did you know that? It’s a sacred word, Cunt, and Cooze is a Swahili word, from the very same root. The bastards been taking it from us.” Her hand keeping me centered. “Where are you now, Lainie? In your center?”
“In my cunt,” I said.
She sighed in satisfaction, her fingers beginning… but not quite. “Now, Lainie.”
Goddamn the bullying, foulmouthed bitch. I didn’t want to think. But think I did, and it took less time than it’s taking to write this down, about how she was right, about the power that was stolen from me when I let my head take over all the thinking…
About the hunk that had been stroking my ass the night before but left with a girl ten years my junior. Who was I, sitting with my hands in my lap, watching him go? If I’d been listening to my cunt, goddamn it, I’d have had his balls in my hand twenty minutes before that. And a man with his pants wide open and everything hanging out of them is going to think twice about leaving the table.
All right. I knew now what she wanted. She was going to get it, in spades. I pulled myself up, to crouch over her on my hands and knees. Her green eyes widened; I was a tigress, I was going to eat her up I was going to reclaim my rights, and I was going to start right there. She loved it.
“I, Am, A, Cunt,” I said into her face. “I’m a bitch and you want me. And you’re going to make me happy or die trying.”
Her eyes went hazy and half lidded. “I’m gonna die happy, Darlin’.”
She always gets the last word.
There weren’t any words from me, as her hands showed me what they could really do, no fooling around. My hands and knees position collapsed, we rolled over again, on my back like a bitch should be, spread as wide as I could for her. Her finger on my clit kept me pinned down, just as she had promised. I loved her for keeping her promises. Her husky boy’s voice whimpering in response to mine, urging me to come again, come on baby, I won’t stop, don’t worry….
“Shut up,” I gasped. I needed her mouth for other things, I told her so, words get her. All I needed was her tongue stabbing into my cunt, flickering across my clit, her finger slipping, oh, god, into my asshole, and everything, everything ….
She climbed up to lay down beside me, being gentle. I turned to her and hugged her fiercely, the body both alien and familiar with its muscular back and and soft breasts.
Kissing her I tasted myself and went wild, lapping at her face to clean it of my cream. She chuckled hoarsely.
“I knew it, I knew it!” she said gleefully. “You and your little suit, and your little bow in your hair. If you dressed the way you really are, you’d get arrested. You like that taste, huh? You wanna taste mine, baby…”
It wasn’t a question. It was that other, more powerful way of asking, a statement of need suddenly discovered, and she clung to me, whining. I had already made up my mind to it, and I saw her as a teacher, patient with my fumbling efforts, guiding me to an understanding of Woman. But Robby doesn’t work that way, and she tore my gift from me, impatient as a child. To her credit, she didn’t use force as she could have. She relaxed her hold on me and lay still by my side, but of course her voice began again, nagging and bullying. Though not with words: Sighs, her weapons were, half — choked little moans, her hand caressing my hair as she waited for me to make my decision. “…Lainie?”
I wished I could swoop down over her and master her with my sure hand, but I needed time to get used to the territory, and Robby was just going to have to accept that. Of course she did, taking me into her arms when I rolled onto her.
No soft feminine kisses, but big love-bites and high friction caresses. She turned her head to show me where to go on her neck. Down to breasts — tits, Robby would say — round as a teenager’s, with small, pink nipples. I remembered how she treated mine, with teeth and tongue, and nipped gently at them. It was exactly what she wanted; it pays to be observant. Her skin was golden silk, her body had less fat and more muscle than some of the men I’ve loved.
Her husky voice was such a turn-on. I hoped it wasn’t just a touch of laryngitis — and realized I was planning to see her again. Too distracting to think about right now, but at least I knew why I wanted to please her. I rubbed my hand over her flat belly in circles that got lower and lower, her breath uneven.
“…Lainie?” Bypass her crotch for now, I wanted to see the rest of what I had. I rolled her over to kiss her buttocks, that lifted up to me. I ran my hand over a pair of legs that were simply beautiful, male or female. A kiss on the sole of each slender foot. She rolled onto her back again, at the urging of my hands: She held herself rigid, looking like a boy with his penis hidden somewhere. I’d had enough of her gender tricks, however. I laid my hands on her thighs to part them. I was a tigress again, she was my prey. Of course I knew what to do. I knew her, knowing myself.
“I’m new at this,” I lied.
“Ooh… just touch me, baby,” she said softly, “I’m so easy.”
She whimpered when I ran an exploratory finger down the slit in the midst of the fine, daisy-yellow thatch, sticky with her juices, fragrant with her woman-smell. I’m going to teach myself to love this smell, more acrid than any man’s. My finger slid on down towards her anus, encountering the latest of her waters, unhindered by any stickiness.
I looked up into her face. “What’s all the excitement?” She was propped up on her elbows, gazing down at me.
“Doing you, baby,” she grinned. “It got me so hot… Mind if I look? I love to watch the new ones.”
“Watch, baby,” I said, “if you can — ” I replaced my finger with my tongue and used it to plow deep through her soft folds. Into her hole and out the other side, I aimed straight for her clitoris, molding my tongue around her little bump — which didn’t feel so little against my tongue — and sucked out one of her whimpering moans. I slipped a finger into her cunt to gauge my progress. What would I want? I pulled my tongue along her clit a few times, making it rough, like a cat’s. I added a finger to the first one, vibrating them against the inner wall, where the hot spot is. I know where mine is — it didn’t take long to find hers. My face was getting wet, something men don’t do to you till the very last. I like the way I taste, I liked her smoky taste. I was a good thing, because I was getting a lot of it. I could become a slave to her voice. I would want someone to tickle my urethra with their tongue. This was just what she wanted, rocking her hips and moaning loud. I doubted she was watching any more. I added a third finger, a little stretch, she decided I needed more room to work in, pulling her leg up to her chest. I could feel that steady kind of orgasm all around my fingers.
“Oh, baby, baby, oh god, please…” She was talking again. “Sweet Mother, baby, do it, do it, do it…” What I would want right now would be a finger in my ass. That wasn’t so easy, so many of mine were occupied, but it was urgent and it was worth it. Her cunt flashed heat back at me, her breath held itself. I gave my tongue back to her clit, and worked steadily, while she got closer and I fell in love with the hoarse scream that tore from her throat, the muscles snapping like rubber bands, as she shook and moaned and thrashed. Her legs scissored around my chest, her hands on my back and shoulders — and her pussy dead still under my hands, she wasn’t going to jeopardize what she was getting, and, oh, I knew just how she felt….”Sonofabitch,” she said breathlessly, and a long time later. I had released her, and come up to be held, laughing in triumph. “Oh, Elaine… what you did… You really are straight, right? I didn’t make a mistake about that?”
“This is a first for me,” I said, and laughed. She hugged me some more, and nuzzled into my neck.”Sweet mother,” she said wonderingly. “You straight girls sure can be a surprise sometimes…” She rolled onto me and sat over my chest, grinning. “Say ‘cunt,'” she said.
Well that’s Robby. I’m looking at her right now, stretching her boy’s legs out on my sofa as she reads; half of her books seem to be at my house these days. She’s majoring in journalism and literature. She works as a courier, with her precious mountain bike and drops in between trips, letting herself in with her own key, what can I say? I love the brat, she’s always welcome.
I left her place some ten hours after I entered it, and walked into work the next day sporting that silly grin that announces; “I have a new lover.”
My sexual identity hasn’t changed that much; I’m still straight, and Robby still chases straight women — and I make her chase me, every time. I love the contest of wills between us, before and in bed. I love her husky voice, the result, wouldn’t you know it, of a biking accident, and the obnoxious things she says with it. Robby gets drunk on words. She can be as eloquent as Shakespeare, although vulgarity is her preferred mode of speech. She’s a charming companion, although she says she never meant to become my companion. Robby gave me back something I’d lost: my power over my sexuality. It’s made a big difference in my life, even outside of her; if a man starts with me, he usually ends with me, nowadays.
And sometimes I come to the cafe on a Sunday morning to meet a nineteen-year-old boy, and I might wear a suit. I know I won’t be wearing it for very long.