Karens Story 7
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Karen's Romance, Part Three free porn video
Karen's Romance
By Norman O. Johnson
Part Three: Three Wonderful Words
One night about 9 PM, finished with my studying, I lay
sprawled across the living room sofa, remote in my hand,
flipping through the cable channels. The phone rang.
"Can ya get that, Karen?" called Aunt Shelly from the
kitchen.
"Okay." I picked up the phone and said hello. "Lauterbach
residence. Karen speaking."
"Karen? Nylon?"
I'd heard that voice before. It belonged to my old reform
school girlfriend Alexis Wei, better known to her gang
sisters as Keyboard.
"Keyboard! I'm so glad to hear from you. Are you back in
town?"
"Actually, I'm calling from Vancouver. I wanted to call
before it got any later. Time zones, you know. Anyway, I
just wanted to let you know I'll be coming back to North
Carolina for the trial next month."
"That's great. It'll be wonderful to see you again. I'm
also gonna be testifying. I hope we can screw Ms.
Martindale in court as severely as she screwed us."
"I've had two conference calls with the DA's office in Wake
Riding," she said.
"Wake what?"
"Oh, yeah," Keyboard laughed. "County! Sorry. Riding
doesn't even mean county. It's Canadian for, uh,
Congressional district. I messed that one up good. I'm so
at home now that I'm back here in Canada that I'm starting
to forget American words."
"You need to watch more TV," I joked.
"So, tell me what you've been up to."
"Keyboard, you are absolutely not gonna believe what I'm
about to tell you."
"Try me."
"I'm dating a guy."
She laughed so loud I had to hold the receiver away from my
ear.
"Get out, Karen! That is so funny! You and a guy!" Her tone
turned serious.
"Does he know about you?"
"No, we've only been dating for, like, a month. If it gets
serious, I'll feel like I have to tell him. I don't know
yet how serious it's gonna get."
"So, is he cute?"
"He's handsome, charming, and very shy. He is SO shy,
Keyboard. He followed me around the art museum all
afternoon before he finally had the nerve to come up and
speak to me."
"Tell me more about him."
"He's a freshman at State. He lives with family, not in a
dorm. He likes history and art and philosophy and a few
other things. I always thought history was boring, but he
makes it come alive for me like no teacher could. You might
say his interests complement mine. He's not musical, but we
both like tennis and racquetball. We're gonna play mixed
doubles tennis with George and Shelly this weekend."
"That's your uncle and aunt, right?"
"Right."
"George and Shelly are going to have a rough time of it,"
said Karen. "I remember your racquetball match with Angel."
"Thanks, that was a great game. Speaking of Angel, you said
something in a recent email about her coming up to
Vancouver for a while. Am I remembering that right?"
"Yeah, she did. Oh my God, I said 'she.' Now it's my turn
to surprise you. Angel turned into a man."
"What? Oh, come on."
"No, really. I didn't recognize him at first. I'm standing
there in the airport with my sign saying 'Angel,' and
suddenly this hunky black guy comes walking over to me. At
first I thought somebody was playing a joke on me. He had
to show me his before-and-after pictures and the official
Mexican sex-change certificate to convince me he was really
did used to be the girl named Angel back at Ida-Watts."
"I remember she went to Mexico, after she graduated from
Ida-Watts." I wasn't used to referring to Angel as "he".
"Yes, he did," said Keyboard. "They have lots of
bioconcentrator clinics down there. Angel says they'll
change anybody into anybody they want, no questions asked.
Most aren't sex changes. He says lots of spies and
terrorists and drug dealers are getting new bodies as a
disguise. The Mexican government keeps threatening to crack
down on them, but they haven't yet."
"How could he afford it?"
"He says he had some money stashed away somewhere from back
when he was... Let's see, how does he say it? 'Selling
something I don't have any more.'" She snickered.
"The exchange rate would be favorable too, converting from
US dollars to pesos," I said. "From what I understand,
Mexican money is worth even less than Canadian. Just
kidding."
"I know you're kidding, Nylon," said Keyboard, using my old
gang nickname. "But take this seriously, girl. You might be
coming up to Canada yourself some day soon."
"Why? Oh, you mean the legal thing with the FDA, don't
you?"
"That's exactly what I mean. If the courts order you to
change back to a guy, what are you gonna do? I would
recommend coming up here. Angel and I have already starting
getting together the information you'd need to immigrate,
just in case."
"That FDA-versus-the-States case is gonna take a few more
months to wind its way through the courts," I observed.
"Tell you what, Keyboard. Be sure to tell Angel I
appreciate you guys thinking about me. I don't want to go
into exile, but if it comes to a choice, I'd rather do that
than be an exile in my own body." The conversation was
getting uncomfortable. I felt like changing the subject.
"So how does Angel like Vancouver?"
"He likes it a lot. He started a job tending bar last week.
He hopes to get naturalized, you know, become a Canadian
citizen. The new Angel is a hunk. Girls come on to him all
the time, and some guys too. Just wait till you see him at
the trial. One look and your panties are gonna get wet." We
both laughed. "I just wish I could see more of him, Karen,"
she complained. "I'm living with my brother and his wife
and kids, and they're very strict about me and boys. It's
worse because I was in reform school for a while. They
don't want me to tell anybody around here why I'm not with
my parents in the States. But, that's a traditional Chinese
family. I'm proud of my heritage, despite that."
"You know, now that I think about it, Angel becoming a guy
makes sense," I said. "She was a daddy to our gang
sisters." In the Lesbian subculture, a daddy is a woman who
plays a paternal role for her Lesbian friends.
"I want to know what your new boyfriend looks like, Karen!
Email me a recent picture of you guys."
"I will. Tell you what. I'll have Reggie and me pose in our
tennis outfits."
"Cool!"
Keyboard and I chatted for about fifteen more minutes as
the long-distance Canadian dollars mounted up. When I was
Kevin, I had never once spent so much time on the phone.
###
We arrived at La Parmesana in Reggie's Toyota. I was
dressed in a salmon colored jacket and skirt, with a white
blouse. It was a conservative look except that I left the
top three buttons of my blouse undone to show a little bit
of skin. Like the chick in that old movie once said, when
guys see some of your skin, it reminds them of you naked,
and that makes them think of sex. But I was also showing
off my faith tradition, with a Star of David pendent
borrowed from Shelly. Reggie was if anything even more
conservatively dressed than I, in a charcoal gray suit with
a white shirt and a dark-blue tie. That, he warned me, was
the way his mother liked to see a man. "Old School all the
way," was his expression for her.
Reggie tossed his keys to the valet and escorted me inside.
I enjoyed the feel of his hand on the back of my waist. It
made me feel secure. I was his first real girlfriend, and
that made him feel more grown up, more secure, more of a
man. As we stepped into the foyer of the La Parmesana, our
eyes met. I responded to his charming smile with one of my
own. He took his hand off of my waist and entwined its
fingers with mine. A woman sitting in the foyer, waiting to
be seated, got up to greet us. "Reggie?" she said.
"Mother, how nice to see you," said Reggie. I noticed he
called his Mom mother.
"May I present Karen Lauterbach? Karen, this is my mother."
"Very glad to meet you," I said, shaking her small hand.
I looked down into her face, which had the same profile as
Reggie's, but with a different mouth, eyes, and ears. She
looked to be about four foot ten, so short it was almost
alarming. Her figure was thin and delicate except for her
plump hips. Her hair was the color of mixed pepper and
salt, and trimmed short, showing how long her ear lobes
were. An irreverent thought crossed my mind: Mrs. Weinstein
was shaped like a fireplug. However, I could tell by the
look in her eyes and the way she carried herself that she
was accustomed to being obeyed. Reggie was his Mama's boy.
Her opinion of me would determine whether the relationship
continued.
"I'm very glad to meet you, too, Karen," she said.
She smiled, but it was a tense smile. She wasn't sure of me
yet. The three of us sat on the bench together, with Reggie
between me and his mom. As I crossed my legs and locked one
knee behind the other, my thighs came together and reminded
me of the radical change I had undergone. Something
happened every day to remind me of that. I loved that I'd
become female, but knowing that I hadn't always been one
made me feel like a freak.
Mother Weinstein looked past her son towards me and said,
"Reggie tells me you're quite the tomboy, Karen. Always
playing tennis and racquetball."
"That's right, Mrs. Weinstein. In fact, Reggie and I played
together this morning."
"Tennis," Reggie put in. "Mixed doubles."
"We played my brother George and his wife Shelly. They
clobbered us."
"I wouldn't call it clobbering, exactly," Reggie protested.
"They beat us 6-2, 7-5. We started off bad, but we did a
lot better in the second set. We did okay."
"I could never match my brother's powerful serve," I said,
grinning modestly.
"Karen looked great in her tennis dress," said Reggie.
"So did Shelly," I added. "That's the great thing about
tennis and racquetball. All that running around give a girl
great legs, which is why we wear short tennis dresses
instead of pants."
Mrs. Weinstein grinned slyly and raised an eyebrow. I
guessed she was a rather controlling person, but I liked
her anyway for her sense of humor.
"Weinstein, party of three," announced the hostess. The
waitress led us to our table. Reggie insisted on pushing
both our chairs in, his mother first. I was charmed by his
old-fashioned manners, but I also noted that I came second.
At some point, he would have to declare his independence of
dear old Mrs. Weinstein.
We mostly talked about the food, while deciding what we
were going to get. The weight-conscious Mrs. Weinstein
ordered a salad, but she told us the fettuccini Alfredo was
good, so we both ordered it.
During the meal, Mrs. Weinstein asked about my family. I
explained I was living with my brother and his wife. Her
pinched face and large brown eyes looked sadly back at me.
"Oh, are you parents dead, then?"
"No, they're not dead."
She nodded. "I see. Divorced, then."
"No, actually, Mrs. Weinstein," I began, and squirmed in my
seat. "Actually, they're in the process of winding up their
old jobs in Charlotte and relocating to Raleigh."
She now looked skeptical. Reggie glanced at me nervously,
wondering, no doubt, if an ugly family secret was about to
be revealed.
"Then why aren't you still in Charlotte?"
I had a half-true explanation devised for this situation,
but I had never tried it out on Reggie. "Well, you see,
Mrs. Weinstein," I said, feeling very uncomfortable,
"there's this problem with my reputation. I was in reform
school for a year, and we all agreed it wouldn't be good
for me to go back to my old high school in Mecklenbergh
County and face those kids again." Mecklenbergh is the
county Charlotte is in.
Reggie looked at me in surprise. "Karen, you never told me
you'd been in reform school."
"No, Reggie, but I was going to as soon as I got the
nerve." I looked at my plate. "I'm just not proud of it.
That's all."
He leaned toward me, took my nearest hand, and squeezed it.
"I understand," he said. "We've all done things we weren't
proud of."
I looked back at him. My cheeks were wet. "Thank you,
Reggie." I wiped my eyes with a corner of my cloth napkin.
"At this point," Mrs. Weinstein put in, "I'm supposed to
wag my finger at my son and forbid him to have anything
more to do with this reform school trash." She smiled,
forming her mouth just like Reggie's. "But I can tell
you're sorry for what you did."
"Oh, yeah," said Reggie immediately. "We don't even care
what it was. We accept you for what you are now." He looked
cautiously at Mrs. Weinstein. "Don't we, Mother?"
Mrs. Weinstein merely nodded and kept smiling. I felt like
her favorite daughter-in-law.
Reggie was still squeezing my hand. I squeezed it back, so
touched I could barely speak. "Thanks, Reggie," I said.
"You're so wonderful."
He stepped out of his chair and kissed me on the mouth. The
kiss was a brief smack, but all the same it felt like a
lover's kiss to me. I was certain Reggie meant it that way.
They had let me down easily. To tell Reggie the whole
truth, I had to tell him I used to have a penis. I'd tell
him some day. I just didn't have the nerve yet. I was a
lioness on the tennis court, but when it came to my past, I
was a timid kitten.
###
There isn't much to say about rest of our lunch. We dined,
chatted about all kinds of other things, and thanked Mother
Weinstein for picking up the tab. The fettuccini Alfredo
would go right to my hips, but I could work it off on the
court. Reggie drove me back to George's place, and we said
good-bye on the porch. Reggie kissed me again, longer than
usual, holding me to him with a hand on my shoulder. When
we came apart, both of us knew we'd turned a page.
"Karen," he said, "you're the most wonderful person I know.
I think about you all the time." He stopped, grinned shyly,
and took a breath before continuing. "I look forward to the
times we share together. You're so precious to me, Karen.
What I'm really trying to say is, I love you."
I was getting a little teary-eyed. I struggled to say
something. "I love you too, Reggie," was what all that came
out. So he kissed me again. The second kiss was longer than
the first one.
When we were finished, he promised to call me and turned to
go. I just stood there on the porch, as a cool breeze
whipped through the yard and stirred up the first fallen
leaves of the season, and watch my man walk away. Sensing I
was still there, he turned back to wave as he opened his
car door. I blew him a kiss.
###
Many hours later, in bed that night, I pondered the
incredible changes that had come over me. In my first
period, when I arrived at the reform school, I was appalled
at the thought of having to live in a female body. In my
second period, with all those gang rivalries at the school,
I started enjoying some aspects of my new life, and the
gang fights gave me an opportunity to stay in touch with my
feminine side. In my third period, still at the school, I
came to prefer being female, without really understanding
why I wanted it. As a sexually active Lesbian, I could
enjoy being female and still make love to girls. When
Reggie came up to me at the art museum and stuck up a
conversation, I was still dressed like a dyke, and still
thought of myself as a Lesbian. Now I was in my fourth
period. I had a boyfriend and was in love. But---
Did I love him enough to trust him with the whole truth
about me? Well, yeah, but I couldn't tell him yet. I just
couldn't. Not yet. Some day, I would.
It would have to be some day soon. But, what if I told him
and he didn't like me any more?
TO BE CONTINUED
Copyright (c) 2002, by Norman O. Johnson
([email protected]) With the author's written
permission, the above copyrighted material may be archived,
copied, transmitted, and redistributed, provided that it
remains in its original form with all warnings, copyright,
author credit, and other information intact. It may NOT be
distributed for profit or sold for profit, except by the
author. Norman O. Johnson.
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