Sissy gracie Life begins anew
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It Begins Anew free porn video
Thanks to Sara and Melissa, and apologies to Greg Bear.
It Begins Anew - By Cassie Eiling ([email protected])
Kazuri looked at her watch. 7:30. Her guests would be arriving soon.
They promised to be there at 7, but she figured on them arriving at
least an hour late. Rock and roll time. Hey, if you're getting up while
the sun's setting, you need a little while to get ready. To clear your
bed of last night's houseguest/conquest, to take a long shower, and
give your hair time to dry. Kazuri knew the routine all too well.
That left more than enough time to get her penthouse apartment in
order. To clear the floor of last night's solo songwriting session, to
put all the music magazines in piles, to get dressed, and to steel
herself for what was to come later. There's always a re-adjustment
period when you see someone you've been separated from for any stretch
of time, a second meeting of a friend, almost. And it had been a long
time.
Having made the apartment at least hospitable enough not to be
hazardous, Kazuri walked into her bedroom, opening her recently
rearranged closet. It was far from full, but she at least had some
choices, and that was enough. Though Kazuri usually a t-shirt-and-jeans
kind of girl, she knew tonight was special. She picked out her favorite
kimono, a forest-green and purple one that couldn't help but remind her
of the Incredible Hulk. Not too gaudy, but probably more than a bit
stereotypical. Hell, that's all they're going to see at first, anyway.
A stereotype.
She sashayed into the bathroom, enjoying the feel of silk on her skin.
It was a clich?, but it was also true; nothing felt quite like silk.
She was wearing a bra underneath, but went commando otherwise, slipping
on a pair of sandals parked next to the bathroom scales. Kazuri looked
in the mirror and saw a still-unfamiliar face grinning back at her.
Round, but not fat, with high cheekbones, slightly slanted eyes almost
hidden behind her eyelids, and naturally thin eyebrows (no plucking or
penciling for her!) floating on a baby-smooth forehead. Cuteness
incarnate. It had been six months, but it was still always a surprise.
One she never got tired of. She ran a comb through her jet-black hair.
It reached down slightly past her chin, and for now, that's how Kazuri
wanted it. Simply perfect. Her index fingers became pistols, and she
shot her mirror image dead.
Kazuri floated into the living room and stared at her massive CD
collection, stored on a wooden rack by the rear wall. I've got guests
coming, and I don't want to distract, I just want to grease the wheel,
to smooth things over, she thought. Time for the classics. She reached
for My Bloody Valentine's "Loveless", "TNT" by Tortoise, and Sunny Day
Real Estate's "Diary" and loaded them all into her 3-CD changer. All
excellent for either passive or active listening, but not distractingly
repetitive and ambient. "Music for Airports" would wait for another
day.
The doorbell rang. Kazuri pushed play, gathered her wits, and ran
towards the door. She thrust it open and was greeted by the three
mouths of her friends, all agape.
"What the hell happened to you?" cried James.
Kazuri sighed, "Great to see you too! Glad you came."
James, Lydia, and Ron continued standing on the opposite side of the
doorway from Kazuri, seemingly paralyzed. Kazuri looked at James. James
was somewhat short and gangly, not at all the stereotypical bass player
image. His never-quite-controlled black hair nearly fell in front of
his aviator-style eyeglasses. Time for a haircut, probably. Ron stood
behind James, almost trying to obscure himself. Obviously uncomfortable
with the situation, he pulled his cap down over his eyes.
"Well, what are you waiting for? I'm not going to carry you over the
threshold, and we've got a lot to talk about tonight," said Kazuri.
Lydia was the first to enter Kazuri's apartment, and the first to
overcome a general state of shock. She cracked a smile. She's so
beautiful when she smiles, thought Kazuri. She tousled Lydia's
ringleted dirty-blonde hair. "I love what you've done with the place.
The paintings," referring to Kazuri's collection of Japanese
illuminated manuscripts, hanging on the living room walls, "really go
well with the magazine piles and your guitars."
"Thanks, Lydia. It's not much, but it's much less depressing than blank
white walls. Whoever thought that was a good color for a living space
should be dragged out into the street and shot."
Turning around, Lydia motioned to James and Ron, signaling the
possibility safe passage. See, I wasn't transmogrified or vaporized.
You can go ahead. James caught himself and took his place beside Lydia.
Ron followed, swiveling his head around to look at everything but
Kazuri.
Kazuri lead everyone into the living room and invited them to have a
seat on her oversized, overstuffed black leather sofa and faux-antique
rocking chair. Ron claimed the chair, while Lydia and James kicked off
their shoes and curled up on the couch. Kazuri offered them all
something to drink. James asked for just a glass of water. Lydia
requested a wine list. Ron seconded the motion.
"Very funny. I've got a bottle of '98 Turning Leaf. Good enough for
you?"
"Well, if there's simply nothing else," Lydia replied in a mock-haughty
air.
Kazuri disappeared into the kitchen for an instant, returning with a
full glass of ice water and three unfilled wineglasses. Pouring for
Lydia and Ron before herself, she raised her glass in a toast.
"Plus ca change, plus c'est la meme chose." They drank, and Kazuri
refilled Lydia and Ron's glasses, leaving her own empty.
"Okay, now that you've used up your ration of Rush references for the
evening, what the hell happened to you?" asked a slightly more relaxed
James.
"I've transitioned, James, you know that," replied Kazuri, seated in a
captain's chair facing the front of the room.
"I didn't," remarked Ron.
"And I expected at least to recognize you afterwards," added James.
Lydia was quiet, but stared inquisitively at Kazuri, making sure to try
not to intimidate her. This probably isn't easy for her, she thought.
"Gender transitions are a lot different nowadays. I haven't had one bit
of surgery; it's all nanotechnological implants I was injected with. I
spent my transition here, not in a hospital. That's why I had to spruce
up the place. Even though it was a liberating experience, it wasn't
necessarily comfortable and I wasn't always comfortable with myself.
That's why you haven't seen me in so long. I'm sorry about not telling
you, Ron, but you never made the effort to reach me, and I couldn't
reach you while you were on tour with the Combustioneers," Kazuri
replied.
Ron swallowed hard. The Combustioneers was his side project, formed
while their band, Gnosis, had gone on hiatus. Kazuri had had to explain
that the band was taking some time off for personal reasons. It wasn't
an easy press conference to do, trying to be resolute in the face of
thousands of music journalists and knowing that everyone would see her
rebroadcast repeatedly on MTV for the next week. Following their
certified gold debut, "Shrutis" and multi-platinum follow-up, "The
Eightfold Path To Complete Alienation", expectations were high. Most of
the fans had chalked it up to the pressure and were supportive,
flooding Kazuri with e-mail. She didn't respond, in fear of
accidentally confessing too much. Gnosis's fans were typically
intelligent, inquisitive, and most of all, speculative about the band's
future. Kazuri had frequently found "tentative" tracklistings for their
third album, fabricated by fans with too much free time on their hands.
Ron saw the need to defend himself. "I know I wasn't exactly
accessible, and I can't say that my attitude would've been too helpful
even if you had gotten a hold of me, but somebody had to keep the fires
burning. Touring with those guys kept people interested in Gnosis, and
it gave me a chance to just have some fun, let off a little steam.
Okay, so I might have been a little pissed off. I'm not used to dealing
with this sort of thing."
"And what sort of thing would that be?" asked Kazuri with a sneering
smile.
Ron groaned. "The transgender thing. It's just so totally out of my
experience. I couldn't understand why you wanted to be a woman, and
sometimes it was hard to deal with you because of that. I'm just a
simple dude from the Midwest, for Christ's sake."
"Midwest by way of Japan," Kazuri reminded. Ron had gone to an
international high school in Tokyo.
"And a drummer to boot. Cut me some slack," implored Ron.
"Consider yourself cut."
"Besides, most of the cute chicks over there were born looking like
that. What's your excuse?"
"Nobody's born complete. They grew up to be that way. I transitioned.
How much of a difference is there?" Kazuri asked.
James chimed in. "They were at least born into that culture and
ethnicity. You're Welsh-German, you grew up in America. That's quite a
change, don't you think?"
"Charles Wyatt was. Now I'm almost as Japanese as they are. I know the
language backwards and forwards and I've always been a student of the
culture, I just was raised here," replied Kazuri.
Lydia spoke up, not wanting to be excluded from the conversation,
though still wanting to be supportive of Kazuri, "But why did you
change both your race and your full name?"
"I was tired of being without a culture. Charles Wyatt may have known
his lineage, but he wasn't really anything other than an American.
Think about it; America may have history, but the culture is so
undefined that Americans think of it only as the default. Now I'm
Kazuri Hiraoka, and I finally feel grounded in something, but, as a
Japanese-American, I'm not bound to it. It seems the perfect balance to
me. As far as my appearance goes, I've always thought that Asian women
were the most beautiful women in the world. If I was given the choice,
why shouldn't I have gone for it?"
James snickered, "You certainly went for it, didn't you?" Lydia smacked
him a good one.
"What he means to say, I'm sure, is that you do look beautiful," she
corrected.
For the first time ever, Kazuri blushed. She covered her mouth,
laughed, and shed a single tear of joy. As the CD changer shuffled
discs to Tortoise, Kazuri raced to the player and stopped it. By way of
explanation, she just said, "I've got something to show you" and left
the room.
Kazuri went to her bedroom and shut the door, perhaps to invite
conversation about her to begin in the other room, perhaps for some
privacy. She stripped off the kimono she'd been wearing, placing it
back on a hanger in her closet. I'll have to get this dry cleaned, she
thought. I may have appeared cool and collected in there, but I was
really sweating bullets. Kazuri selected a pair of tight red leather
pants and a well-worn Bloom County "Billy and the Boingers World Tour"
shirt. It had been one of her favorites as Charles, and she liked the
way it fit as Kazuri. She removed her bra. Even though she was only
5'6" now and weighed 120 pounds soaking wet, the shirt hugged her
breasts tightly. It's rock and roll, Kazuri thought, and it's my damn
house.
She ran into the second bedroom, which had long since been converted
into a home studio with a full ProTools rig, 02R console, and isolation
booth, and hit a key to take her Mac G4 out of its screen saver.
Drumming her fingers on the desk, she waited for the CD to burn. She
was burning the demo for the first song she'd written since her
transition. She'd recorded all the parts herself. I may not be a
virtuoso, but at least I'm a multi-instrumentalist, thought Kazuri. It
ejected two minutes later. Spearing the center of the disc with her
pinky, she raced back to the living room. Show time.
James, Lydia and Ron clapped and cheered as Kazuri entered the room.
Ron let out a wolf-whistle, which was answered with a stare from Lydia
and a quick little rump-shake aimed at an invisible dance partner from
Kazuri. Kazuri picked up one of her guitars, a Parker Fly she'd worked
an entire summer at a shit job to buy back when she was in college. She
strapped it on and plugged into her 15-watt practice amp. She brought a
microphone stand out of the closet next to the stereo and fitted it
with a beat-up Shure SM58, which she plugged into a preamp connected to
her stereo. Clearing the changer, she placed the CD she'd just burned
in the tray, retracted the tray and pushed play. It began.
The track kicked in with an out-of-control drum solo. Ron's eyes were
agape. How the hell can she play like that? She used to fuck around a
little in practice, but I had no idea, Ron thought. The solo ended with
a piccolo snare crack, synchronized with a dissonant chord played on a
picked bass guitar, followed by a clean, arpeggiated guitar. The three
instruments settled into a steady, albeit quirky groove and Kazuri
started playing a guitar solo, cranking the little practice amp as far
as it would go. She danced in and out of the key, rocking back and
forth, gazing at her fretboard and resolving every phrase perfectly.
She pulled back into a sustained melodic line, ended by a dissonant
tone, slid down the neck quickly, Robert Fripp style. Almost
simultaneously, she began to sing.
"It began with this..."
Hands off her guitar, she gripped the mike, screwed up her face and
sang a verse in a rough-sounding, but obviously trained alto voice.
Like the perfect punk queen, but better. What a range! Lydia smiled and
flashed her devil's horns. Kazuri smiled but didn't miss a beat as she
sailed into the chorus on a sea of distorted octave guitars.
"What I hope to find/I still haven't found/But now I stand/Comfortably
off hallowed ground..."
She chugged eighth note power chords into the next section, switching
to a clean tone. Time for the 6/8 part, thought Kazuri. She began
arpeggiating intently, motioning to Lydia with her head, pointing
towards an electric violin on a stand on the floor. It was already
plugged in and waiting for her.
What the hell, thought Lydia as she picked up the violin and started
wailing away. The changes weren't intimately familiar, but she was
trained for this. She pulled out the frame of the music and inserted a
new picture, much to Kazuri's delight. Kazuri motioned again towards
Lydia, this time with her guitar neck, taking the reins once more with
a four-bar solo, making the transition back to 4/4 with polyrhythmic
flair. Kazuri took up the verse again.
"And if it never ends..."
The verse was only half as long, plowing headlong into the chorus,
which Kazuri extended for effect.
"Free at last/My siren cry/Tethered no more/I'm no longer bound..."
Kazuri ended the song with an oh-so-girly, almost Gwen Stefani, croak
on the last word. She hated Gwen Stefani with a passion, but it was
just an effect, as were the layered guitars screaming a sustained
Picardy third on the CD. Not looking at her audience, she bowed deeply,
nearly falling over, then jumping up gleefully. Then she looked. For
the second time that evening, she saw three mouths hanging wide open
and three pairs of eyes staring back at her, aghast. Did they like it?
She looked at Ron. He looked away, stroking his well-trimmed goatee,
adjusting his glasses and "Modern Drummer" baseball cap, obviously deep
in thought. Dude, it's going to be so sweet playing over that. It's
been too damn long since I've played with these guys. Er, and girls.
She looked at James. He noticed her gaze, but looked straight past her.
That's such a fucking great song. The form, the melody, the rhythm, the
progression. I can fit into that like a glove. Hey, it might be weird,
you know, about Kazuri, but c'est la vie.
She looked at Lydia. Lydia jumped up and squealed, "That was awesome!"
She ran up to Lydia and hugged her full-on. That's the first time
someone's hugged me, since the change. Damn, I miss it. I miss all of
it, thought Kazuri.
"So, do you want to get back together?" asked Kazuri, just a little
uneasily still, even as she broke Lydia's embrace.
This time, she looked at the room and saw nothing but faces cracking
smiles, heard nothing but snorts and snickering, and felt nothing but
total support. They stopped laughing, and Ron, in his most boorish Bill
Murray voice, yelled, "Well...yeah!"
"Strike up the band!"
Emely
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