Journey of Discovery
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Journey Of Discovery - Part 2 free porn video
Mark hopped into the shower and got dressed inside of time minutes time. He
didn't shave since he really didn't need to more than a couple times a week.
While he was showering, a strange thought crossed his mind. He wondered what
those guests on the show saw when they looked down at themselves in the
shower. He also realized he didn't really have a decidedly masculine build
-- just slim and basically undefined.
With his head cleared, he poured a cup of coffee then sat down at his
computer. First, he went to the Maury show's web site looking for contact
information. He was still formulating in his mind exactly what angle he
wanted to pursue. He figured he would gather as much information as possible
and then sort that out.
Finding a number for pitching story ideas to the show's producers, Mark
decided to go ahead and give that one a try. He got through to a staffer of
some sort and began to explain what he was looking for.
"Hi. I was watching your show today and I would like to try to get in touch
with the guys that appeared on the show."
"Oh, a tranny chaser are you?" the woman on the other end responded.
"A what...?"
"Oh don't be embarrassed, sweetheart. The show ended 15 minutes ago and I
must have taken 100 calls already."
"This is different. Really. I'm a reporter for the Toledo Blade and I'm
working on a story about these men."
"You don't even know what to call them. They're transgendered, dearie. You
MUST be new to this. I can't put you in direct contact with them. The best I
can do is pass along email addresses from the girls who chose to make any
available. Some have web sites as well.
"I think there was actually one girl from Toledo, come to think of it. We
taped this show a couple of weeks ago. Hold on a minute.'
"A girl from Toledo?" Mark was thinking while sitting on hold. "That might
make things a bit easier. I wonder which one he was... or she or whatever."
"Yeah, here we go. Lady Lysa. Quite a brunette bombshell judging by this
publicity photo. As I recall, she fooled the audience pretty well. Even had
a sweet little voice."
"Can you give me her phone number?" Mark asked almost in desperation. "It
could help me get things rolling so much faster."
"No way, Jose. Look, here's her email. With any luck, she'll write you back
in a couple of days."
The woman gave Mark the email address and web site for Lysa, and took his
address to forward him information on the other girls. Mark immediately
began surfing for Lysa's web site, and searching for any hits on the unique
names of some of the girls and the name Maury appearing at the same time. He
found web site for two other girls mentioning their recent appearance on the
show. Mark immediately began crafting letters to all three ladies,
expressing his curiosity, his respect, and what he felt the benefit to the
readers would be if they were to let him include them in a series of
stories: some would be fascinated, some would be surprised to see inside
this aspect of society, and everyone would be educated on some level.
Mark spent a little extra time on Lysa's letter, hoping to convince her
above everyone else. The mere fact that she is right in the same city as him
provides obvious advantages, both to gathering the story and to interesting
the readers.
Then he headed for her web site, Lady Lysa's Little Landing. He hoped her
alliteration signaled some appreciation for writing and what he was hoping
to do. He skipped the massive photo gallery for the time being, heading
directly for contact information on the outside chance he would find a phone
number or address. No such luck, but Mark did notice Lysa's note about
frequently using ICQ, MSN Messenger and a couple of chat rooms.
Immediately, Mark sent Lysa an invitation to add him to her MSN contacts,
and racked his brain trying to recall his ICQ handle and log-in. On the
third try, he was successfully on, but no sign of her. Then he headed to the
two chat rooms mentioned on Lysa's web page: transchat and urnotalone. He
signed on to transchat first since urnotalone required establishing a
profile. And he got lucky! Looking at the list of users, he spotted a Lysa
in the Open Chat Room, signed on as Mark_OH and entered.
"Welcome Mark_OH" automatically appeared in bold, black letters. Then he saw
he could enable pictures of whom he was chatting with. He typed "hello,"
checked on pictures and hit refresh, immediately seeing photos of about half
of the 10 people logged on at the time. Mark immediately addressed Lysa and
said he would like to talk to her. She responded back with a mix of coy and
caution.
"Down, Tiger," wrote Lysa with a private message, prompting Mark to respond
back in kind.
"Sorry, Lysa. My name's Mark. I work for the Toledo paper and would like to
talk to you about a story I'm working on. I sent you and email explaining
how I saw you on the Maury show today and got this idea for exploring more
about men like you."
"Men?!" Lysa darted back. "Something wrong with your eyesight?! I may have
been born genetically male, but I'm a far cry from that now!"
Getting over what she deemed an insensitive comment, Lysa then just realized
she and Mark were in the same city.
"That could be part of the story -- not only your journey but also how
people who don't understand it could learn about it and see how the world
looks from your point of view."
Mark seemed to be developing his story line on the fly. It wasn't just some
way to try to appease Lysa. The premise he was improvising seemed to make
pretty good sense. Awaiting a response that seemed to take an eternity, he
noticed Lysa telling the other girls in the chat room she had to take a
break and "BRB."
"So, Mark -- are you trying to promise to make me a star?" Her response
seemed to come with a bit of synicism.
"That's not the goal. Newspaper stories don't make celebrities," he flatly
answered, missing Lysa's sarcasm. "I just think it would be a fascinating
human interest piece that could lead to others."
"Lighten up, Mark! I was just kidding. These breasts don't mean I don't have
brains *g. I was just on national television. I don't think a local paper is
going to be my big break. What are you doing right now?"
"Duh," Mark typed back, finally loosening up a little and realizing how his
comment looked. "Right now, I was just looking for a way to get in touch
with you."
"I'm so flattered *w," Lysa said in a flirtatious tone, wondering if it was
lost on the man at the other end of the conversation. "Would you like to
meet for lunch?"
The thought left Mark both flushed with excitement over the story and with
the sudden realization he would be meeting this
man/woman/shemale/transsexual -- first question would be how should he refer
to her.
"Sure. That would be great. I know this little out-of-the way place off
I-75."
"How about Applebees?" Lysa countered. "I'm not afraid to be seen in public
with a newspaper reporter. You didn't choose print because you are too ugly
for TV, did you? LOL"
"No, that's fine," Mark responded, realizing maybe it was he who was worried
about being seen in public with Lysa. They worked out a location and a time.
It was nearly noon now. Within the hour, he would be sitting down with Lysa
and actually getting his project off the ground.
He know what she looked like. She asked Mark about him. He said he would
wear a bright red tie with his grey tweed jacket to help her spot him. He
put them on and then headed out the door.
Lysa had been up but not necessarily fully dressed. Her long, light brown
hair was gently curled. She already had her eye shadow done with a darker
tones of pink and rose. But she had been bouncing around her apartment in
just a camisole and cotton pajama shorts. She stripped down to nothing and
put on a strapless bra, gently shifting her 36-C's into place. Then put on a
pair of silky pearl white panties, and threw a silk flower print scoop neck
dress over her head. She touched up her lipstick with a dark rose tone,
stroked her eye lashes with mascara that made them appear even longer and
more lush, put in a pair of diamond stud earrings and tossed back her hair.
After strapping on a pair of 4-inch heels and grabbing her burgundy sweater,
she grabbed her little black purse and headed out the door.
Their cars say a lot about these people. As Mark was driving to lunch in his
sensible 1999 Ford Taurus, Lysa was putting her pink-polished toes to the
pedal of a sleek silver Lexus coupe.
Mark arrived first and asked for a table for two, waiting for Lysa arrive
before taking a seat. When she walked in, Mark made a sudden realization. He
was having lunch with what appeared to be a stunningly beautiful woman. The
television screen in no way did her justice. Probably standing 5'9 in her
heels and walking with a sashay that would made a supermodel take notes, the
sight of Lysa automatically commanded the attention of every red-blooded man
in the room.
"Oh, boy," Mark muttered under his breath. He could feel his palms begin to
sweat. He dated his share of girls in college, but pretty much buried
himself in his work ever since. And while he was accustomed to encountering
a cute girl on occasion, Mark suddenly felt like the class geek going out
with the homecoming queen. Confusing the issue and adding to the tension is
the fact that Mark knows this lovely creature is a man -- or used to be.
Beneath that bodacious bod beats the heart of a boy.
"Okay, focus. Focus," Mark whispered to himself. He put on a smile and
offered his hand as Lysa reached him, offering hers with Mark thanking her
for meeting him.
"It's a pleasure to meet you. You look very nice," the master of
understatement said. He sensed himself gently shaking her hand a little
longer than normally would have. He noticed her lovely nails and felt her
soft, supple skin.
"Thank you. So do you," Lysa responded politely. "I was afraid I'd be
meeting some bookworm with a pocket protector and a bow tie."
Lysa was not flamboyant. She was attractive but did not flaunt or make a
scene. From first appearances, she was simply a lovely lady out to eat with
man. Anyone peering in the window could picture them as a couple. Or they
could be a couple of co-workers grabbing a bite together for lunch. He could
be meeting her to give her legal or financial advice -- or vice versa. Or it
could be a reporter meeting someone to interview them for a story, but no
one would image what the topic actually was.
Just as they were being seated, a man's voice called out to Mark.
"Hey, buddy! You feeling better?" a metro columnist named Cliff chided Mark.
"Oh, hey Cliff. Uh, yeah. A little."
"I can certainly see why!"
"It's not like that. This is Lysa, she's..."
"I'm his neighbor. I needed his help with something," Lysa interupted,
patting Mark's hand. "I pulled him out of his apartment to give me a ride,
and I insisted on treating him to lunch."
"Bet that took some arm twisting. Don't worry. I won't mention seeing you.
Especially not to Stevie. I'll catch you later."
"Yeah, see you Cliff. Thank's man."
And then they were seated in their booth, ordering Diet Cokes when asked
what they would like to drink. Once they were alone, Lysa immediately had a
question for Mark.
"Who's Stevie?"
"She's just a woman I work with at the paper. We're just friends," Mark said
but not believing how he said it. He was basically telling Lysa not to think
he was taken.
"All I mean is... well, Cliff said that because Stevie kind of has a thing
for me. And I, uh... "
Lysa decided to help him off the hook.
"You don't have a thing for her."
"Right. Exactly."
Then Lysa decided to embarrass Mark a little more.
"And you wanted to make that clear to me."
After a pause, they both chuckled through the buildup of sexual tension.
"So, tell me all about yourself," Mark said in a swift effort to change the
subject.
"Maybe we should order first," said Lysa, looking at her menu.
Mark looked around, but didn't see a second menu. Scanning adjacent tables,
he still didn't spot any. It was the height of lunch hour, and just about
every table was full. And waiting on a waitress to bring a menu could take
another 10 minutes. Lysa noticed the situation, and decided to tease Mark a
little more.
"Come over here. We can both look at this one at the same time."
"Oh, I can wait," responded Mark. "I'm not in any hurry."
"C'mon. I won't bite," Lysa teased, knowing she was laying down a challenge.
"Ok. Sure," Mark conceded, trying to be casual about Lysa's invitation.
He moved around and sat on the booth bench next to Lysa. The seat was barely
built for two. Lysa held the left end of the menu, and Mark grabbed the
right. Their inside elbows were basically rubbing up against each other any
time one of them made a move. Mark had quite a time focusing on what he
wanted on the menu. Lysa already knew a grilled chicken salad would do it
for her. Finally Mark spotted something on the menu that he settled on as
the waitress returned. They ordered and Mark tried to nonchalantly move back
to the other side of the table.
Inside, Lysa felt a little funny seeing a guy get all flustered being around
her. She's seen it happen with men who didn't know her little secret, but
never with a guy who already knew what has been the biggest obstacle to her
ever having a "normal" male/female heterosexual relationship. She told
herself to ease up on Mark. For now, she didn't want to scare him off.
Their food arrived, and the couple chatted about things in general. Besides
the food, they talked about the city, the weather and their neighborhoods.
Turned out they were almost neighbors, living about half a mile apart.
When the plates were cleared, Mark pulled out his reporter's notebook and
began asking Lysa some more specific questions. He also put a digital
recorder on the table. There was no way to take notes on the complex answers
he expected. He would just jot some general references in the notebook and
put down brief notes about exceptionally interesting comments so he would
search for them later. After about an hour of talking about how Lysa came to
be, the two of them realized the could wind up sitting there all day. So
Mark suggested they walk over to a nearby park and pick up the conversation.
He paid the bill and they were on about their way out the door.
Seeing Lysa walk through the park was another awe-inspiring experience. She
really was a picture-perfect piece of womanhood. Were it not for the
occasional questions related specifically to her transition, Mark would have
completely forgotten he was talking to anything but a woman. When another 90
minutes passed, Mark's recorder ran out of memory. Plus, he realized he
really couldn't keep her so long. Not that Lysa seemed to mind, but when he
suggested they take a break, she concurred. Mark then asked what's the
soonest she'd be willing to meet again.
"We could do dinner tonight," Lysa answered, catching him off guard.
Mark assumed that with the three hours they spent together today, he had
worn out his welcome for a while.
"Are you sure? I don't want to push you or keep you from anything," Mark
said politely but somewhat insincerely. It wasn't so much the story. He
really enjoyed the afternoon.
"Certainly. I'm sure. It might be easier though if we met at my place. I
could make something, then we could discuss things comfortably without any
distractions."
"Well, if you're sure. That sounds great."
Mark got Lysa's address, then walked her to her car. While she went to the
grocery store, he went home and dumped down his recording. Then he took a
little while just sitting on the couch, trying to evaluate the afternoon on
both professional and a personal levels.
Ofelia
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