Reunion
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Reunion free porn video
Reunion
By Heather St. Claire
They had chosen the restaurant with great care; it had to be someplace
that wasn't too fancy or too seedy, too flashy or too noticeably hidden.
In short, somewhere where they were most likely to blend into their
surroundings.
Leslie had arrived first, and was seated in a booth toward the rear of
the main dining room. She nervously crossed, uncrossed and recrossed
her legs. She was wearing her new knee-high, spike-heeled, brown
leather boots. She loved the sexy look and feel of the boots, and was
glad she had indulged herself and bought them, even if they did
represent a big chunk out of her weekly secretarial salary.
But she hadn't intended to wear them to this meeting, fearing that they
might be too sexy, might send Gene the wrong signal. This was a
meeting of two old friends, nothing less, nothing more. She didn't
want him to think she was trying to come on to him. But Leslie had
been giving herself a last-minute once-over before leaving her motel
room, and she had spotted the run in her pantyhose. 'Damn!' she
thought, recalling something Mary Jo had once said in an episode of
Designing Women...if this country could send men to the moon, why
couldn't it come up with pantyhose that wouldn't run?
Not wanting to take the time to change, Leslie then slipped off her
pumps and put on the boots. She had planned on wearing them to the
dinner and dance tomorrow night, if...if she was able to summon the
courage to actually attend. God, had it really been 25 years since
they had all graduated from high school? And almost 20 since she had
set foot in her old home city?
Part of her wanted desperately to be there. Yes, these had been
painful years for Leslie, but she had had a few good friends. She had
been closest to Gene, though. They had both been ostracized by the
great body of the high school rabble, as they liked to think of them.
The two of them spent lunch hours together in a far corner of the
cafeteria, usually exchanging reviews of the latest science fiction
novel the other had read. Although they had different gym classes,
they both had a shared bond of suffering, each being the slowest and
most awkward, each always winding up the last, most reluctant choice
for any team activity.
Thinking about those memories was still painful for both of them, even
a quarter of a century later. They inevitably opened the doors to even
more difficult images; having their books knocked out of their arms,
being tripped, kicked, laughed at. High school students could be so
cliquish, so cruel, especially to anyone who showed any sign of being
weak, or different.
But Leslie and Gene had both channeled their pain in positive
directions; Leslie had started jogging, then running, in the past few
years, and had even entered three marathons. Although she had finished
in the middle of the pack each time, she regarded each finish as a very
sweet and personal victory.
Gene's residual anger was focused more aggressively; he found himself
taking up confrontational sports like tennis and handball. In fact,
that was why he had asked Leslie if they could delay dinner until 7,
even though he was off work at 5. Had to get in that after-work game;
he didn't want to let even something as momentous as a reunion with his
one-time best friend interfere with that.
As usual, Gene had worked up a good sweat, and an usual, he had scored
a decisive win. He found it a relief to step in the shower and feel
the warm water massaging the soreness out of his well-developed muscles.
Out of the shower, he applied his favorite cologne, carefully combed
his hair and beard, and put on the more casual, but still classy attire
he favored for evenings and weekends. Such a relief to get out of a
coat and tie!
The polo shirt, chinos and loafers he wore were attractive and
comfortable. He feared they might mark him as an aging preppie, but as
he looked in the mirror, he saw no signs of grey on top of his head, or
on his beard; his face was unlined; he could still pass for someone
several years younger. As a final touch, he splashed on some of the
cologne he favored.
That was the first thing Leslie noticed when Gene entered the
restaurant, his manly scent. She thought it was amazing how her senses
seemed so much more acute than they had once been; colors seemed more
vivid, odors more pungent, tastes much stronger. She wasn't sure if
there was some kind of hormonal reason for this, or if it was just
because she was more attuned to the world around her.
The realization that Gene was nearby caused a mild wave of panic to
wash over Leslie. She thought about hurrying to the ladies' room for a
last minute check of her makeup, then reached into her purse for her
compact and a quick peek right there. She told herself she was being
silly, that this was the last thing that should matter, but she was
nevertheless touching up her lipstick when she heard an authoritative
voice ask, "Leslie?"
She looked up, smiled, said, "Yes," and their eyes met for the first
time in more than two decades. So much flowed between them in that
instant; so many memories, so much pain, so much joy, so many shared
experiences. Finally, the spell seemed to be broken, and she said, "Oh!
Silly me! Won't you please sit down...Gene?" He nodded, and slid
easily into the vinyl-covered booth.
Gene smiled and just stared at Leslie for what seemed like a long time.
Finally, she broke the silence. "What? Do I have a hair bump or
something? Lipstick on my teeth?"
He chuckled and shook his head. "No, it's not that at all...I was just
thinking how lovely you are." Then, after a pause, "Are you always
this insecure about your looks?"
"No," she insisted, "really, I'm not. It's just the thought of seeing
you after all this time, after all we..."
"Hey!" he broke in. He had taken her soft hand in his rough, strong
one and was patting it. "I understand, OK?"
Leslie took a deep breath, smiled, and said, "OK."
With that, the ice was broken, and over the next hour, they exchanged
memories of their past lives and tales of their new ones. Gene had
been married for almost 15 years, and had two adopted children. He was
truly the proud father, displaying a walletful of pictures of his son
and daughter. Leslie had had one, brief, unhappy marriage, but she had
retained custody of her daughter, and it was clear that despite the
strains of single motherhood, the child was the pride, the joy, the
center of her life.
It was over their after-dinner coffee that Gene finally brought up the
subject both had been avoiding all evening. "Well, Leslie? Are you
going to come tomorrow night, or not?"
Leslie looked into the distance before turning back to her dinner
companion. "No, Gene, no, I'm not." She stood up, preparing to leave.
"Do you mind if I ask why?" he asked, getting out of the booth.
"I think you know why. I just can't reopen old wounds. It's been
absolutely marvelous seeing you again, Gene, and I want you to promise
you're going to keep your promise and stay in touch with me now. But
as for the rest of them...they can all go to Hell!"
Gene was surprised by the sudden look of anger, no, hatred, that had
crossed Leslie's lovely features. What came next wasn't a shock...she
began to cry. He wrapped his arms around her, guided her head to his
shoulder, and said, "Dear, don't you think if anyone would understand,
I would?"
She smiled, wiped her eyes, and planted a moist kiss on his cheek. "I
love you, Gene. I'd better not stick around...or I'll say and do
something that I'll be sorry about later." With that, she hurried out
of the restaurant.
The Hilton ballroom, the next evening.
Gene sat at one of the tables toward the back of the room. The
questions, the stares, hadn't been as bad as he had expected, but he
still was going to be relieved when the evening was over. He looked on
his attendance more as a duty than a joy, despite the surface
courtesies from almost everyone he encountered. But this was the path
he had chosen; he wasn't going to let anyone stop him from living the
life he chose.
He was on his fourth Scotch, which was about two more than his usual
limit, when the awards ceremony began. He wasn't paying too much
attention until he heard the emcee intone, "And now the award for the
most changed..." and heard the nervous tittering sweep across the room.
"Oh, shit," he muttered.
"Well, what do you know!?" the host said in his best mock-serious tone.
"We have a tie! Anybody wanna guess?...No, I won't keep you in
suspense, it's Gene MacDonald and Leslie Fielding." It was a toss-up
whether the nervous laughter, or the applause, was louder as Gene made
his way to the podium. He stood there, looked around the audience
several times, waiting for the noise to die down. When things were
finally quiet, he began to speak.
"I guess I shouldn't be surprised by this award. (slight nervous
laughter) When you change your sex, it pretty much becomes a given
that you'll wind up with honors like this. What can I say but, thank
you. Oh, and I'm accepting on behalf of Leslie--she thanks you all,
too." Another pause, while Gene surveyed the faces in the room. Did
he see pity? Hatred? Admiration? A little of each? It was hard to
tell. With the lights, and all the Scotch, things seemed to be getting
a little blurry.
"One of you, earlier tonight, told me that I had great courage to come
here tonight. You were very nice, and you may not have meant it that
way, but I also took that comment to mean that Leslie was a coward for
staying away. Well, she almost came. We had dinner last night. And I
can tell you that she's a beautiful, lovely woman -- more truly female
than some of you in this room.
"I suppose it may have taken courage for me to stay here in my hometown,
to go through my transition in front of all of you, to establish a
whole new life as Gene, instead of Jean. It wasn't easy -- but it was
something that I had to do. Something I had to do, or die. Any of you
who have never been through this probably have no idea what I'm talking
about.
"But I want to tell you that Leslie is just as brave as I am, probably
more so. In fact, I think that's the case. I had my family standing
behind me. You can't imagine how much that meant to me, what kind of
strength I gained from them. Leslie wasn't so lucky. Her parents
disowned her. Imagine the courage it's taken for her to leave the
world where she grew up...the people and places that nurtured her...to
begin all over again someplace new.
"So I accept this award, with great pride. For me, and...for Leslie."
With that, Gene stepped down from the podium.
Some of the people at the tables he passed on his way out were able to
see that he was crying. It had been a long time since Gene had cried.
Angelica
- 10.07.2020
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