The Black Dog free porn video

I write for myself as a sort of free range psyche delving. But... Writers like to have their stories read and hopefully appreciated, funny that. At least I know 1 person read my last effort - Thanks Joan. This is another idea that has been 'running' around my head for a while. It didn't want to go where I originally intended so the trip is a bit different and perhaps will not go where you expect it to. The story of a relationship with the possibility of pain or joy depending on which turn you take on any given day. There is often a twist in the road not visible till you hit it. This is a work of adult fiction. No resemblance to reality should be inferred or expected. Copyright KLS 2006. The Black Dog By Kristina.L.S. 1. I'm not at all sure when it began. At what point did the colour seep from the world to be replaced by some old film noir version of life. I had been married to Kara for 3 years. At 26 things were rolling along relatively comfortably. We had met at University, had some of the same courses. Birthdays a month apart, she was older. Almost identical physically, bar the obvious male and female bits. I guess I was never the big man type and she, once we got to know each other, let out a sigh of relief. She was glad not to have to fend me off constantly. That I was cool enough to leave her space outside a relationship and not grope for sex every time we got together. Sure we did it regularly and loved every minute. We grew together and experimented together and graduated together. She as a Vet Science major and me with an English major in education. She had worked in the same suburban practice for three years now and loved most of it. I worked for a local High School. Mostly it was fine but every now and then it got a bit depressing. With the old timers disillusioned and cynical, the newcomers all wide-eyed and keen and others like me in the middle. Aware of the shortcomings in the system and the students often total lack of interest. Then my world fell apart. I had given a queen bitch of a 15 year old a hard time over a couple of essays. She had waited for me after school, walked up to me with a sweet smile and kissing me on the cheek informed me that I was 'from this moment well and truly fucked. I should not have hassled over the essays. See ya.' The next day I was arrested for molesting a minor. Then another girl came forward to back her up, saying that I had done the same to her. Pushing sexual favours for a pass mark. Rebecca was a pretty good student and did indeed pass. She was also a friend of Cynthia's and easily led. I was let out on bail. Back at school I soon found out that half my colleagues believed every word. Many of the students did as well. I was accosted by a group of about a dozen parents as I left school that afternoon and punched to the ground by 2 of the men. One was Rebecca's father. I received notice that afternoon that I was suspended on full pay 'pending investigation of serious allegations against my suitability for my current position'. It was 3 months before Rebecca recanted and confessed the whole scheme. Eventually Cynthia caved as well. All charges were dropped but that didn't help much. It was unlikely that a single school in the state would touch me now. Cleared as I was by full confessions, mud sticks. Out of work with no reference and little if any chance of getting a similar position any time soon. After several months of absolutely no response to resume sending or phone calls, I realised. I would have to lower my sights a little. Kara was taking the pressure for mortgage payments and most living expenses. In desperation I took a job as an assistant manager at a supermarket. Which basically meant I was little more than a 'check out chick'. If there is a more mind numbing job than scanning and packing groceries for hours on end I have yet to find it. And I sure as hell don't want to. Due to my recent experiences my people skills were not in top form. I had a good deal of trouble in trusting anyone. So making friends was not exactly my forte at the time. I continued to chase a better job but all I succeeded in doing was pissing off the boss by missing a shift to go for an interview, a waste of time, and nearly lost the job I had. And so I began to drink a little at night. Didn't want to go out anymore and pretty much ignored my wife. It crept up on me. The drink got a little more regular and the going out was almost a lost cause. Kara tried to get me to socialise a little but with not much joy. If we did in fact go out together I was about as much fun as a bear with a sore head as someone put it succinctly one night. That got me thinking and I resolved to cut the booze and try to be a man and husband again. It worked for a while. We got close again, made love like old times. We were a couple and it was nice. Then one night after a day of constant grumbling and complaining from the beloved customer, I found myself sitting at the dinner table with tears running down my face and a black cloud wrapping itself around me. It was a minute or two before Kara noticed what was happening. She dropped her cutlery and jumped to my side. Kneeling there she wrapped her arms around me and held on for dear life. She kept asking what was wrong but I didn't really know, so how could I explain it. After about twenty minutes or so of gentle coaxing to talk and let her help she coaxed me to bed. After getting me undressed she got a bottle of sleeping tablets from the bathroom that she had gotten to help her through a rough patch six months previous. She had only taken them twice so it was almost full. I took two. We curled together and eventually slept. That set the tone for months. She took control and got me up and at 'em each day and curled up with me each night. Sex was a thing of the past and I didn't even notice. I did try but conversation was minimal and I'm sure it wasn't a very pleasant time for her. To give her credit she treated me gently and with patience. Called me honey and sweetie constantly. It barely registered. Life was dull and grey with no emotion or colour. Existence was a chore. Then came the piece de resistance. Kara had begun avoiding me. It took about a month before I realised that we hadn't even once sat down to dinner together. She would come in late and eat alone in the kitchen. I was usually in bed. Curled up and minimally responsive. When I finally asked her why she avoided me lately she just looked at me sadly and said it was nothing. Just work. After a fumbled attempt at intimacy one night she started crying when I couldn't and she wouldn't. Like a shot of ice- cold water to the face I knew we were in trouble. Begging her to tell me why I was suddenly so unattractive to her she replied that it wasn't that. She found me attractive as she always had, despite my moodiness of late. She just didn't see me the way I saw myself. What did that mean I asked. She just looked at me sadly and refused to elaborate. After several days like this and a real effort on my part to be a husband again she looked at with an exasperated expression one night. I was getting ready for bed and she jumped up and whipping my shorts off, pulled a nightgown down over my head and fluffed up my hair. Grabbing her phone she told me to walk across the room on tiptoe as she 'videoed' about twenty seconds. Then holding it to me asked what I saw. Me walking across the room in her nightie. 'No. What did I see. If I didn't know it was me.' I looked again. ...No. ... Again. ...No. ...Again. I looked again trying to be objective. A tousle haired figure in a nightie walking tiptoe across the bedroom. Again. A slender.... I looked again. I slumped to the bed. It was a girl. A slender, flat-chested, girl. And she was me. I started to cry softly. I never realised. I didn't know! That's how she saw me. Every day. All the time. Not a man. Not her husband. But a girl that she happened to love very much. I thought back. I had not penetrated her in months. When we made love with any real emotional contact it was the way two women might. Gently, softly, with kisses and tongues. She made love to me, still in her nightgown. Slowly and gently, kissing and teasing, till I came and slumped into sleep in her arms. It took me a few days to organise. But by Friday I had all the necessary ingredients. I dressed as I had that day. Jeans, docksiders and a pale lemon polo shirt. For her part I had the cream Italian cotton pullover she had worn, knotted around my shoulders. It was a nice mellow day as it had been 3 years ago. The bench we had used was thankfully unoccupied as I had hoped. The headland was pretty much deserted on a weekday afternoon. I laid out the picnic basket. Sliced roast chicken, lobster tails, grapes, pate and crackers. Popped the bottle of bubbly and palming the rest of the bottle of sleeping tablets toasted our marriage, my beautiful wife and what might have been. Washed about ten tablets down with each toast. Remembering the look of joy as I'd passed her the ring. Kneeling there on the grass beside her. The note I had left was brief. Sorry to be such a failure as a man a husband and partner in life. Please forgive me. Find someone better and forget the past. Am going back to the start to see the finish. Goodbye my love. Sam. I lay back and let the sun fall on my face. I was at peace. Gradually the world around me dimmed as I slipped into unconsciousness. Kara had called Sam at work to arrange to meet for lunch. A rare chance to get together during the day. When she was told that Sam had not turned up a cold feeling of dread washed over her. Rushing home she found the note and screamed in fear, rage and frustration. Think. 'Back to the start to see the finish'. 'Back to the start'.... What? Where? She rushed around the house checking. No. Not here. Checked the bathroom. Nothing. Then on impulse checked the cabinet. No sleeping tablets. 'Back to the start...' Of course! The headland. The start of their marriage. Where he had proposed. Running to the car she dialled emergency, ambulance. Tried to explain as she sped toward the picnic area that would always be the start. In a cloud of blue smoke and screaming tyres she slid to a stop in the parking area 50 yards from the bench. She could see the picnic just as it had been. And the still figure lying hands behind head on the grass. Swinging the door wide she rushed towards that horrible scene. So peaceful and innocent. Yet shrouded in terror as she slipped to her knees beside him and pulled his head to her lap. Checking. Yes still breathing. But shallow. The siren was almost here. Hurry! Please hurry! 2. The haze slowly cleared. Pain down his throat. Bright lights and bustle of sound. "He's back with us. Call his wife." I could make out the figure as she came in the door. She looked worn out. Our eyes locked as she got closer. With tears welling up she almost screamed, "Don't... you ... ever... do anything... like that again...! You bastard!" Then gently pulled my head to her chest and sobbed. It was a couple of days before they let me go. Had to make sure I wasn't a danger to myself, or others. At least so far as the perfunctory meetings with the staff psychiatrist could. Kara tiptoed around me for the rest of the week. Constantly checking in to make sure I was there and coherent. As the weekend came we sat down over breakfast to talk properly. She tried to understand. Why? What had suddenly made everything so bleak that I no longer wanted to live. Sure I was depressed over the job situation. The psychiatrist had spoken to her about the black dog. Depression. How insidious and deadly it could be. I had some anti- depressants, which she watched me take. Morning and night. I tried to explain. The loss of my job. The blatant look out for number one viciousness of a 15 year old girl. A supposed innocent. The cold suspicion that followed anywhere people knew the story. Or what they thought they knew. The mind numbing repetition of my recent employ. Then finally, the realisation that my wife, the love of my life, saw me more as a girl than a man. Not truly a husband. It was more than I could cope with and more than she should have to. She sat looking at me for a minute. There was sorrow and love mingled on her beautiful face. "Sam as long as I've known you, you were not a typical man. Sure you could be masculine in many ways, that's how you grew up. But you were always softer. More thoughtful and considerate than anyone I knew. Male or female. More empathic. You went out of your way to make me happy despite conflicts with your own life at times." She took a deep breath and looked down for a few seconds. Sighing, "Almost from the day we met I unconsciously thought of you as a girlfriend. Understand, I had never harboured lesbian thoughts. But even knowing you were a guy I thought of you as a girl. Even making love was gentle and sweet. Not a wham bam affair. It was making love, not sex. Even after we married, I wanted to confess my feelings but was afraid to hurt you." I sat looking sadly at her as she marshalled her thoughts. "These last six months you were so down. I was worried, but I watched you and you seemed to become more emotional.... Um, more feminine." She sobbed suddenly and looked me in the eye. "If I had thought for one minute you were suicidal I would have got help. God I love you ...I don't want you gone." I reached and covered her hand with mine. She sighed deeply and covered my hand with her left. "Do you trust me Sam?" She suddenly seemed very serious, "Do I trust you. Yes of course I trust you. I love you. I want to spend my life with you. I ...ah, won't do that again. Sorry." Swallowing she looked at me as if measuring me for something. "Please listen to what I say, don't just react emotionally. This is from my heart to you, with love.... You no longer have a job. So for a couple of months, maybe longer you will be the house hubby. Would you,...um..., consider being the house wife instead?" With a sinking feeling, not unlike what I felt that day on the grass as the pills took effect, I played back what she had just asked. She looked really nervous now, "Sam, please. I am not trying to hurt you or push you away. I love you, but I want you as my girlfriend come lover. Not as a husband per se. Even the hospital psychiatrist, admitting his limited experience in the area, suggested that you might have some 'gender identity issues'. God what a stupid word ...issues. Anyway he thought it would be worth getting a more practiced opinion. That perhaps that was at the root of your depression." I sat silently waiting for the other shoe to drop with a big thud. I had worn her out. She was leaving me. Or was planning to. I was her girlfriend. Once that was established she could do what she wished. Kara watched the emotion wash across his face. Then as his head dropped and the tears started. "Please Sam. If I had explained myself better the other week maybe you wouldn't have felt that I regarded you as less.... I don't. I never have. I don't want to leave you. I don't want you to leave me. I married you believing that you were more female than male. But you never showed any desire to explore that.... So I left it lie. Your happiness means more than some idea I may have. But think about it. Explore it a little. If you get no... ah...easing of stress, ... lightening of mood. Then be Sam not Samantha. But please consider it." After several silent minutes, with both of us looking at the other. Her hopefully and me with fear and distrust. "You want me to be Samantha. Your girlfriend. Why? To what end?" "Sam, please listen. I believe that somewhere in that fine mind of yours is a locked room and inside that locked room is Samantha. Guiding and helping you but unable to live because you fear her. Please open that door and have a look. If you truly don't find something for your own betterment shut the door and walk away. We'll deal with it." "You want this don't you. You want to feminise me. How far do you want to go. Clothes? Jewellery? Makeup? Visits to the salon? Hormones? Surgery?" My voice had gradually risen so that I was almost shouting toward the end. Very calmly and with a sad expression, " Sam, yes all of the above. Up to and including hormones and surgery if that is what you need and want. It is your choice. But you need to let her out a little, she's part of you. Then we take it from there. Together. We talk it through and decide. Occasional cross-dressing. Full time. The whole transsexual kit and caboodle. Whatever it takes." Breakfast took a long time that morning. 3. To say I spent the rest of the day in a strange mood does not quite convey the situation. Kara had started a chain reaction of thoughts and feelings. Small time bombs going off every so often when I thought I had run through all the arguments and questions. Not even close I realised after 4 hours sitting on the back verandah, knees to my chin. It came down to whether I believed and believed in Kara. And could I comfortably try this as she wanted. Did I want to try? Needless to say I spent the night tossing and turning. Vague dreams of Kara laughing at me as I tried to chop wood and smiling as I zipped up a dress and touched up my lippy. With a slight lack of sleep headache I turned to find Kara looking at me with a puzzled expression. "What about chopping wood? You've never chopped wood in your life have you?" Leaning across I kissed her softly and mumbling explained the dream sequence and that I would try for today to be her girl. But if I felt ridiculous or uncomfortable all bets were off. With a huge smile she hugged me tight. "Oh baby I know this is right for you. For us. You'll see." With a feeling that I had given up something important without a fight and at the same time that a weight had been lifted. I got up to make coffee. Kara bustled about pulling things from drawers and tossing them on the bed. Then stopping for a moment with a finger to her lips to think, jumped to it again as whatever it was resolved itself to her satisfaction. She had me strip and pushed my hair under a plastic cap. Then spread what I took to be depilatory from my ankles to crotch and up the V of my 'bikini line' leaving a small tuft around my cock and balls. Then up the line through navel to throat. Underarms and arms from bicep to finger tip. Standing still for ten minutes as my skin began to tingle and my mind churned was a long time. She took the shower hose and rinsed me down scrubbing gently with a face cloth as she went. After a few minutes she turned the tap off and checked me over with a smile. "There you go sweetie. Smooth as the proverbial. Now shave really close and then wash and condition your hair. Use mine. See you shortly I have to make a call." She was back ten minutes later, bubbly and smiling as I was drying my hair. "Hold up sweetie just let me at it before you get it too dry. " She proceeded to wrap about a dozen large rollers in my hair and pinned them in place. "Just to give you a little more body for the moment. Let's rub this moisturiser all over first. Ok. Come on take a seat and we'll have a look at your face while your hair dries." She grabbed my chin in her hand and moved my face up and down, side to side, making a big show of scrutinising my features. " Oh come off it Kara. You've been planning this; for years probably. I bet you know my face and what it needs in this situation better than you know your own. Cut the pretence and lets get on with it." She took a deep breath and looking at me with a slightly guilty smile apologised. She then produced a makeup bag with I was sure a whole bunch of girl stuff just for me. Sure enough, all the necessary for a basic day or evening makeup job. Plus the extra's for cleansing and moisturising before and after. Now there's a surprise. "Please Sam. I have been wanting to do this for a while. But as I told you. I don't want to hurt you. So I was never sure if this bag would see the light of day. So yes, I have kept it topped up with things for the last 2 years in the hope that you would come to it on your own...." A wave of resentment and suspicion washed over me, "So you just waited till I was suicidal and so weak emotionally that you could manipulate me to do whatever you wanted. That is so... I don't know what that is. But I sure as hell don't feel good about this or you or me for that matter." Emotion washed across her face. Pain then guilt followed so quickly by anger that I wasn't sure about what I had seen. " You self centred bastard. I have done everything for you these last few months. Just about ceased to exist beyond your needs. Don't you dare accuse me of manipulating you! If you don't want this then so be it. But we will never be the same again. You have crawled so far up your own arsehole that you no longer see the rest of the world beyond your own narrow perspective. Well fuck you, you prick!" AS I bowed my head to her and apologised I wasn't sure if I imagined the brief half smile or not. Or if I did see it, what it might mean. After several minutes of deep breathing and concentrated anger dissipation she started working on my face. Stopping herself she went back and explained each step. To my surprise I wanted to follow and do this right for her. I paid close attention and asked the occasional question. She answered each one and smiling took me through everything again. She then had me copy her after cleansing everything off. After three attempts I could do a reasonable job. With a big smile, " There you go sweetheart. Looking good. With just a bit of practice you'll be as good as me. And just as pretty." That made me blush which she noticed. " Hey come on, don't be embarrassed. We're virtually identical. More than one girl back at Uni said how much alike we looked. With just a little effort we could pass for one another. Now you have the proof. We could be twins." She finished dusting my face and leading me by the hand gradually helped me dress. Panties, bra, padded just a bit; ok, a lot. Pull on crew neck sleeveless knit top, knee length full skirt and a pair of low heel strappy sling back shoes. " There you go. You look great. We'll get your hair and nails done during the week and you'll be just perfect... Oh I'm so glad you opened yourself to this. How do you feel? Have a look in the mirror. Well? What do you think? You look just lovely. Don't you think so?" Her enthusiasm was contagious. I looked myself up and down trying to be critical but not negative. To my own surprise I found myself looking hard to find fault. My hair looked a little teenage, my waist a little thick. But over all I had to agree I looked pretty good. I needed earrings and maybe a bracelet or two. What? Did I just think that? Then it occurred to me that again this had been planned. My waist was thicker than Kara's, my feet a little bigger. Yet it all fit perfectly. Why was she so determined to make me over? Was I just being paranoid? Was this just her desire to get me in touch with myself and in doing so save our relationship and my sanity? My head swam with the contradictions and double guessing twists of possibility. With a shake I resolved to go with it and see what I felt as we progressed. Maybe Kara knew what I needed better than I did. I did believe in her love so I guess I had to trust. My mental state of the six months or so left me a lot of room for error in my own judgement. Trust; easier said than done I thought. Damn just believe in her, OK! Ok. As I opened my eyes I realised I had missed the last few minutes. Kara was looking at me with a slightly worried expression. I smiled at her, "Sorry. I was having a little emotional battle here with myself. I guess I look better than I expected. Plus I'm a little paranoid about your motives. But I figure you love me. So I can trust you more than me at the moment. Lead on McDuff. Sorry if I lost it for a minute there." With a hug she assured me this was for the best. Please just go with things for a while then see how I felt. I nodded and with a huge smile she hugged me tight, "Oh I do love you. This will be so good if you just let yourself go. Be yourself and stop trying to hide this side of your personality. Believe me. I only want the best for you. Just look..., half an hour and you look better than a lot of regular girls ever will. With a bit of work you will be just scrumptious. I can't wait." 4. And so it went for the next few weeks. Kara gave me her clothes to wear. She basically wore jeans, boots and t-shirts to work so hers were just sitting. 'They might as well get some use' she said, so I obliged and wore her clothes. Unfortunately I needed a waist cincher to make things fit, what a pain. But it did make my figure better. After a month or so it became a little more routine and therefore comfortable. An interesting experience to be sure. The first time I went out. I had agreed to full time, I almost shit a brick on the front porch. Discomfort and nervousness to the max. Trying to watch every movement, every gesture and at the same time keep the voice at a soft and feminine level. Be aware of my surroundings and avoid confrontations. And try to act natural. You have got to be fucking kidding! If every single person even vaguely aware of their surroundings didn't pick me within 30 seconds I would be amazed. Kara was constantly doing her best to boost my confidence by asking about and talking through my day. Particularly where I felt uncomfortable or fearful. Praised my efforts and then gently pushed for more. One night after about 2 months, "You need to immerse yourself a bit more to see if this is what you need or not sweetheart. Please for me. I have found a salon that is happy to have, um, 'girls' like you as customers. I made an appointment for Tuesday afternoon. It's all set up and paid for. Please just go with this and see how you feel." She handed me a card with Samantha-1.30 and Jenny written on it. "Jenny is the lady that specialises in men transitioning. Now don't read too much into that. She's sympathetic that's all. Expect about 3 hours. Hair, nails, facial and body waxing. Trust me you'll love it. Well, most of it." She could tell immediately that this made me very uneasy. But knew that as she had already paid for everything and she was pulling the sole income for the household that any argument I had would be at best weak. One more step to where she wants me I thought. Another flash of paranoia and questions about her often late hours went unspoken. She was just doing what she thought she had to. For both of us I told myself. Someone had to man the surgery after hours and it was only 3 nights a week. Even if that was weekends. She could bill the surgery more for weekends and was home by 11. Unless there was some emergency, which only happened twice in the last 2 months. Animals get sick just like people. Well she was right. For the most part the salon experience was lovely. Apart from some discomfort during the wax session and a slight shock when Jenny pierced my ears and slipped the small gold hoops in place. Running my hands up my now silky smooth legs was a very sensual experience. Carefully shaped and polished nails. Hair neatly and simply styled. Arched eyebrows and a subtle makeup job. A slight perfume from the massage oil. I looked at the woman in the mirror and liked what I saw. With a thank you and a smile I started out. " See you next week Samantha. We're starting laser with an electrolysis follow up on your beard. It's not too heavy so once a week for a few months should do it." I tried not to let my shock show but she must have seen something. Asking if I was alright. With a slightly tense smile I responded that I was fine and would see her next week. I walked down the street in a slight daze and stopped at a caf? for a strong coffee and to gather my thoughts. It was almost five and the place was busy. It took several minutes before my order was taken. Half an hour later as I left I noticed a small sign in the window, waiter/waitress wanted weekdays 11.30 - 6.30. How very PC I thought. They want a waitress but can't just say so. I had walked a block toward the car when I decided to go back. I waited 10 minutes before the owner, a tough looking woman with a big head of hair and a loud though pleasant manner emerged to see me. After a few perfunctory questions she nodded and grabbed a full tray from the counter before the waitress could. "Here you go, 2 mochas, a cappuccino, pecan pie and 2 blueberry tarts. Table 4 in the corner lets have a look at you." Taking the tray I took a moment to balance myself. It had been 5 years since I had needed waiting skills. Plotting a course to avoid the hectic part of the room I headed over and enquiring gently delivered drinks and cake to 3 ladies in their forties. The first two ignored me except for a raised finger as I recited the order from the pad. The third looked a little guilty and said 'thank you dear' and resumed the conversation. I tucked the docket under the flower in the centre and headed back to the counter. "Not bad my girl. What's your name?" "Samantha Keough." "Well Sam. You've got a job. When can you start?" "Um, tomorrow if you wish." "Good. See you tomorrow at 11, I'll run you through things. Casual clothes. Not too high heels. I supply the apron." She rattled off pay rates and times. Handed me a form for 'personal details and tax information' and disappeared back inside. As I stood there with a slightly bemused expression on my face one of the waitresses came back to grab a tray. Laughing lightly she grabbed my hand," Hi I'm Janette, you starting?" "Samantha. Yes. Tomorrow." "Thank god, we could use the help. There's only 3 of us and it gets a little hectic at times." "Yes so I noticed." "Well from what I saw you can handle it. Don't mind old Lucy. She's a tough old bitch but she looks after her people. And anyone who does a decent job of work is her people. You'll do just fine." "Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow." I tucked the form in my shoulder bag and with a slight grin headed out. Sitting In the car a few minutes later I tried to run through what had just happened. I had just taken a job as a waitress. Not a waiter a waitress. Samantha was casually employed. Surprisingly I felt quite good about it. I'd save the terror for tomorrow. Something to look forward to. Oh boy. When I got home, wanting to share, there was a message from Kara. She would be late. Don't wait up. Someone had poisoned a pair of border collies and they would be working overtime to try and save them. Oh and did I have a good time at the salon. See you tomorrow sweetheart. Feeling slightly deflated I mumbled 'yeah tomorrow' and headed for the kitchen. 5. I was up early and rang the surgery it went to the machine. She must be out back on the camp bed. Oh well. I set about tidying the house then went shopping for food and assorted household stuff. By the time that was all done it was 9.30. I decided to go for a walk. Checked my outfit, it would do, made sure I had the paperwork for big bad Lucy. I drove to a large park almost half way between home and work, grabbed a takeaway cappuccino from a caf? near the front gate and wandered aimlessly sipping and thinking. Little bush shrouded trails with the odd jogger or dog walker nodding as they passed. It was only when a good looking but very sweaty guy offered to stop running and wipe the frown off my face that I took a break and sat to think. It seemed fairly clear that Kara was determined to morph Sam into Samantha and had made plans with people like Jenny to do just that. The last few months had been pretty much angst free. Which objectively had to be a vote in favour of Samantha. But just how willing was Sam to fade out gracefully. Electrolysis was a big jump in one direction. Admittedly shaving was a pain, so a beard, which was never planned, would not be missed. Still it was a symbolic surrender on his behalf and set the stage for further advancement of Samantha as a real challenger to this life, such as it is. I sat and thought. Licked the froth off the lid and thought a bit more. Ok Samantha seems to be more together for now. But down the track if this goes much further, will that stay the same or will she slide into the same state as Sam. Licked inside the rim of the cup then as far as I could reach, wiped, checked and touched up my face. Ok, I guess that little action makes a statement all on its own. Another vote for Samantha. This is starting to feel very natural and in another half an hour I start work as a woman. Just go with flow for the time being and see where it leads. I got up and headed back toward the car, tossing the empty cup in a bin on the way. First stop after parking was the salon. Jenny when she came out apologised that she didn't work weekends when I asked. But suggested, after I outlined my reason, that Mondays at 8 would be good. She gave me a little tube of lotion to tint the hair shaft down to the follicles as my light colouring was not ideal for laser treatment. This rubbed over the beard area would aid the effectiveness and then after treatment she would give me packs and creams to sooth my face followed by a quick touch up before I headed to work. During this lay-back time any waxing, nail work or hair touch ups could be attended to. Close shaving to maintain smoothness was not a problem and 3 hours total each Monday morning for about 3 months would get things well under control. Then, another month or two of electrolysis to complete. Don't worry I'm very careful. The hormones can make scarring more likely so I take a great deal of care to keep your face looking good. Once that was settled she kissed me on the cheek and wished me good luck for the new job, " Samantha's on her way. Your Kara has told me to make sure you get the best to help you along. You're very lucky. You'll be just lovely when I'm finished. I'll have to drop in for a coffee and give you a hard time." This said with a big grin. "Thanks Jenny, anytime. See you Monday if not before." Well that's settled I frowned to myself and headed for the caf?. Jenny seems sure that I'm well on the way. Hormones, just an assumption or had Kara said something. So that is what she would be pushing for next. Lost in thought I wandered to the caf? half an hour early. Janette waved as I came in but before we could speak Lucy grabbed me and lead me to the office. "Well I must say I'm impressed. You're early. Normal start is 11.30, you were due at 11 today and it's only 20 to. You trying to suck up to the boss or something?" "No Mrs Pascowicz I just had nowhere else... I mean, nothing left to do so decided to get a sandwich before starting. I um, haven't eaten since breakfast which was pretty early. Plus I'm dying for a pee. Had two coffee's a couple of hours ago and well..." With a deep throaty chuckle she looked me over head to toe, then gazed into my face for several seconds. " Ok, I'll let it go. But from now on no trainers. This is a classy place. Dress shoes. This is work, not the gym. Do you have your forms? " I handed them across as she continued to gaze intently at me. "Ok, that's fine just grab your sandwich and a drink if you wish, on the house while you work here. Just don't abuse it. The bathroom is out back of the kitchen. See me at 11 and I'll run you through things. Oh, just so you know. I'm 63 and one thing I've learned in 63 years is that no man is worth it. They're all useless. So trust old Lucy here. Whatever he did. Or is still doing. To hell with him, ok. They're all bastards. Use you and spit you out. If you're out stay out. If you're not, then get out. ......Hmmmmnnnnn. See you in 15. Don't be late, Samantha. I hate tardiness." I ordered a sandwich and a glass of iced water from the guy behind the counter as Lucy nodded to him that I was starting today, then ducked out the back to the bathroom. Had to wait for a minute or two for a lady to finish up. Did what I needed and sat to eat fairly quickly. All the time conscious of keeping a feminine manner. Made it on time without making a spectacle of myself. Checked my face and tapped on the office door at 10.58. "Good, you're on time. Lets meet everyone, starting out front and then we'll work back to the kitchen so you get the layout and sequence from order to kitchen and back." There were only two tables occupied at the moment so at a gesture the three waitresses gathered round. " Right girls. This is Samantha. She's starting today. Janette I think you met. Kim and Tracy. Just keep an eye on her for the next day or two ladies." They all said hi and nodded. Janette was close to my age, perhaps a year or two older. Kim was Chinese and could have been 25 or 45, I guessed early 30's. Tracy was a rather worn out looking 40 something. "Ok. Next, the servery. This is our barista, Tony. Gods gift to everyone, especially women. Though a good number of women seem not too overcome by it from what I can tell." The man in question laughed out loud and reached over taking my hand and kissed my fingertips, "Bellisima Samantha", which caused me to go cold and blush head to toe at the same time. Objectively speaking he was good looking and had that rakish Italian charm thing working overtime. But the last thing I needed was a horny guy trying it on and not finding what he expected. Later. "Ahem. This is Bill. Any questions regarding the menu or variations check with him. He does the cakes and side dish serving and double checks everything before it goes to you girls." Bill was a lean 6 foot and had the look of country which the half smile and nod pretty much confirmed. Both wore black jeans and t-shirts with black aprons tied at the waist. Both looked fit and capable. As I was directed toward the kitchen I caught Tony giving Bill a big wink and shook my head slightly. This caused a snort from Bill, which so far was the only sound he'd made. As I turned slightly I got a gentle wink from him and could clearly see the laugh in his eyes. I had to smile. I was sure I would like Bill. "And last but not least, the kitchen." We pushed through a swing door and were met by a bigger more everything version of Lucy. " This is Anna and her husband Bob they run things in here. Do all the food prepping, buying and menu selecting. Daily specials according to what they pick up at the markets each morning." Bob was a big ruddy faced man that looked like he should be a baker. Both nodded and said hello. "Ok Samantha lets get you set up and studying the menu. You'll be run ragged in no time. But give it a few days and you will be just fine." Lucy lead me back to the office and gave me a black apron. Left pocket lined to carry a damp wipe down cloth and the right for pens and order pad. She showed me were to stow my bag and then it was out into the customer service arena. Seven hours later I was very glad I had spent the first day in trainers and yet still felt an unaccountable sense of fulfilment. 6. As I drove home I tried to reconcile my emotions as Samantha seemed to be asserting herself beyond my initial reluctant accommodation. Just maybe Kara had a point and if so, why the hell had I never felt the need to explore. She seemed to be a more together, nicer and therefore more approachable person than Sam had been. Hmm, past tense, another tick on the Samantha side. Or was that just a reaction to Sam's recent turmoil. Shit, this was starting to get into deep waters. Did I still know how to swim or did I want to float with the tide? Either way would I end up drowning? I drove home on auto pilot. Kara met me at the front door. "Sam sweetie, I was starting to worry. Is everything ok? You look a little tired." "Hey Kara, sorry I should have left a note. I've brought dinner, lasagna and salad. Come on lets eat and I'll tell you about my day. Then you can tell me what's new with you. After all we've hardly seen each other for days." I hooked her arm and lead the way inside. "Grab us a glass of red hon. I'll get the plates and cutlery." We bustled about in near silence as Kara kept looking at me as if to read my mood. Dished and served and as we ate, started to talk. "So are you going to tell me what's going on? I was worried, where were you?" I looked at her quietly and tried to measure my response. To be truthful I was a little irked. "What ever is the matter Kara? Your little wifey not here with dinner on the table. Is that not part of the grand design? Is she showing a touch of independence? How's the food?" She obviously suppressed a tart response and with a deep breath, "No. I was actually worried about you. You are not 'strong' at the moment and I didn't know where you were or what might have happened. And the food is fine." "Well Kara or is that mother. I am an adult and appearances to the contrary your husband. Even if you seem determined to change that. It is not yet 8 o'clock, even teenage girls get more freedom than that. I got the food from work where I started today. I'm sure you'll be ever so thrilled to know I'm working as a waitress in a rather busy caf? 5 afternoons a week. So perhaps you'll need to talk some other sap into being your maid. I'm planning on running away with the chef, he's ever so dishy." I pushed my plate away, picked up my glass and walked into the lounge room and sat in the dark sipping wine and for some reason crying. Who said I couldn't be a petulant twit if the mood struck me. I could hear her bustling about and cleaning up. About ten minutes later she came in carrying her own glass, turned on a corner lamp that was pretty dim and sat on the lounge opposite me. She was watching me silently and I'm sure taking in my appearance and posture as I sat in the chair. Legs tucked under me, my glass held in both hands and probably obvious tear tracks down my face. A few minutes later she broke the silence, " You got a job, that's wonderful sweetheart. Do you like it better than your last? You need to be amongst people and start to reconnect with the world. I'm glad for you. I really don't need or want a maid you know. Just my dearest friend and lover, happy and healthy. If that means Samantha takes Sam's place then so be it. I just want you happy and here with me, not lost in some self-induced fog. And not running off with the chef, dishy or not, you're mine. Frankly I think you seem more integrated now than you did a few months back. I guess this is hard for you. To change the whole outlook of 20 plus years cannot be easy. But from where I sit every movement, gesture and emotional response says woman, not man." "Ah yes. Woman. Just how are you planning on getting me on hormones? Your friend Jenny is convinced I'm already taking them. She will be ever so careful not to scar my face with the electrolysis. It seems hormones make that more likely. So, do I have an appointment with a psychiatrist or endocrinologist ready and waiting? Oh, the time with Jenny has been rearranged to fit with my job. So perhaps your next 'friend' will have to reschedule as well. Then in a few months when I'm sterile and impotent you can have a good laugh at how pathetically simple it all was." "Sam do you honestly think I would ever laugh at you. To watch you over the last year or so has been very hard, especially as I said I have always seen the feminine in you. To think that by letting that belief slide I contributed to your desperation and nearly your death makes me so guilty I want to cry. But I know you are stronger than that. You will get through this." She took a deep breath and looked down for a minute. Then back up and straight into my eyes. "Sam, I have spoken to a psychiatrist who specialises in this. She's not far from Jenny's salon. When you wish, an appointment can be made. But nothing can happen unless you are willing and she believes it is right for you. I cannot and would never force anything like this on you. I love you." So how do you respond to that in an aggressive manner without sounding like a complete dickhead. I sat silently feeling very lost and alone with my thoughts whirling from paranoid conspiracies and gay bashing to feminine pleasures and privileges. I was unaware of Kara moving until I felt her press against me as she sat and took my hand. "Sweetheart I know you're scared and a little lost. Worried about where this will take us and whether it will change what we have. It some ways it may have to. But the basic structure of who we are together or apart will remain. From my side this doesn't change anything much apart from a few legal technicalities. You will always be you. The person I love most in the world. Please just follow your heart and trust in me. I wont desert you." I sighed deeply and through tears running freely down my face responded quietly, "Just how far through this have you planned Kara? Next week my beard gets removed. Then I start hormones. A few legal technicalities would be, I assume, a change of name and identity and all the finickity crap that would entail. Then what, the penultimate step a divorce and ultimately surgery on various parts of my anatomy to realign the psyche with the body. Do you have a boyfriend yet or is that yet to come to fruition? I just give up my life of 27 years and merrily wander off to become some idealised fantasy of womanhood leaving you free to pursue your birthright in whatever manner you choose. I already don't look like a man. If I follow through any further I wont even be able to pretend to myself that I'm still a husband. I don't for one minute believe you want to spend your life in some lesbian relationship with an ex male lover. So how do I fade away? Or do I just become your girlfriend that shares a house and waves you goodbye as you swish off to meet your new lover. I could never do that, it would kill me, so just how far have you planned this." "Oh Sam. Please don't torture yourself with what-ifs and maybes. We have to get you whole and then we work through the rest. Nobody knows their future and what pain or happiness lies in wait. We just have to muddle through the best we can. Remember the main part is I love you and I know you love me. What follows we have to wait and see. Please baby; be strong. Lets go to bed." And that's what we did. Cleansed our faces, stripped and curled up together with Kara spooning me tight from behind. Despite the anxiety squirting through my body I was asleep in minutes. It was after 9 when I woke the next morning. Kara was long gone and I just lay there for a while with my mind rolling gently and surprising myself with the resolution I had reached. I searched the desk drawer and sure enough found a card for a lady psychiatrist with an address not too far from work. There was a pencilled appointment date on the back for almost a year ago. I closed my eyes and refused to ponder what that might mean and studiously avoided searching any further. If my current life was a fantasy I wanted to hold onto it for just a while longer. I made a phone call and confirmed that this was who I thought it would be and with a timely cancellation arranged an appointment for Tuesday morning. Wherever else this led I needed some help with the way my mind was running. If I was nuts I would like a professional to tell me so, rather than just suspect it for myself. Sanity was probably overrated anyway. 7. The next 2 days flowed by. I prepared dinner before leaving and did shopping as necessary. By Friday evening I had the general routine and menu at work down pretty well and apart from aching feet from wearing 'real' shoes everything was fine. It looked as though Janette would become Samantha's first friend. Kim and Tracy were married with kids and though nice enough didn't really want to socialise. Janette was however happy to sit for a while after closing and chat over a coffee. She was a year older than me and had recently divorced her childhood sweetheart. He sounded like a decent guy, but to hear her tell it he had no ambition or even idea about who he was or where he was going. She had to make all the decisions. Decide on money matters and which bill got paid first. It just wore her down trying to be the strong one. So they split. A relationship of over 10 years gone in an hour in front of a local magistrate. She hadn't seen him since. I took her hand and tried to sympathise. But I was picturing myself as the pathetic bastard she had married and had once obviously loved. This got me running down a dark train of thought about my own and Kara's situation. After a minute or so she had to shake me slightly to get a response. "Are you all right? You were really somewhere else for a couple of minutes there." "Oh, I'm really sorry Jan. Your tale of woe just got me thinking about things and wondering where I was heading and if love would be a part of it. Sorry I don't mean to sound callous or indifferent to your problems. Just having a hard time separating your story from my own at the moment. That sounds so conceited doesn't it. My problems matter and yours don't. Not what I meant. I'm still living it that's all. Ah, sorry I'd better go." "Hey. It's ok. When you're still in the middle of it it's hard to get perspective. I know it took me months to get past the crying myself to sleep at night stage. You have to decide where you are and where you're headed. Once you do it becomes easier. Trust me. You'll work it out. If you want to talk I'll be here. See you Monday." "Yeah, see you Monday." She gave me an odd look as I turned to leave. I turned back and she looked embarrassed and a little angry. "Jan, you ok? You look like someone just slapped you in the face." "No, no. I'm, um, I'm fine. See you Monday. Have a nice weekend Sam." She wouldn't meet my eyes and I knew something had upset her. I went pale as I turned and left. She knew. Something I had just said or done had outed me. She knew. Dazed and a little frightened I walked to the car. Any mugger could have had my bag, keys and car and I probably wouldn't have noticed. I made it home but couldn't remember how. Kara had left a note, she would be late, again. She had been home and had eaten, the rest was simmering gently on the stove. I turned it off, walked to the bathroom, had a quick shower and went to bed. It was after 6 when I woke. Stumbled to the kitchen to make coffee. The light was still on. As the water boiled I checked around. Kara wasn't and hadn't been home. Feeling empty and alone I sipped and sat staring into space on the back verandah. About an hour later I rinsed the cup and sat it to drain and went back to bed. Glanced at the clock, 12.50. I stretched and realised Kara was beside me. As I rolled over I noticed a black dress I didn't recognise draped over the dressing table chair. I sat up and looked closer. Some pantyhose draped on top and a pair of heels lying on their side next to the chair. Feeling suddenly cold I slipped out of bed trying not to wake her. Got dressed quietly and went for a drive. I went to the movies and watched two. I have no idea what they were. Saturday night she was 'working' again. I watched a late movie and tried to wait up to talk. I jerked awake at 2.30 and went to bed. Sunday was strange. Kara was about as happy and bubbly as I'd ever seen her. Asking me about work and whether I'd made any friends. She seemed as though she wasn't interested in the answers though so I didn't provide any. She hummed and pottered about and finally went to work at 2. The kiss on the cheek as she left had me bawling my eyes out the minute she closed the door. What the hell was wrong with me? Am I really this pathetic? 8. Monday I left early for the salon. Jenny was waiting and proceeded to zap my face for an hour or so with this star trek phaser thing while I lay back wearing sun glasses. Then with soothing gel she settled my skin while she fixed and redid my nails. Two hours later I headed out and did some shopping and dashed home, prepped dinner and went to work. Only I was wondering if I still had a friend or a job. The job was still there but Janette was doing her best to maintain a distance. It was a very subdued afternoon. I dumped my apron and with a curt goodnight left as soon as the last customer walked out the door. I caught a glimpse of Janette watching me as I headed out the door but didn't want to confront her so kept going. Kara was home so I heated up and served. She made a couple of attempts at conversation but I wasn't having any. At 10 I showered and went to bed in the spare room. Tuesday I waited till Kara had left then got up and dressed carefully. I was sitting in the waiting room at 7.45 and at 8.05 a rather attractive woman of maybe 40 asked me to come in. She was good, no doubt about it. She had my potted life story and a detailed outline of the last 18 months in just over an hour. Then proceeded to gently probe and explore my emotions for the remainder of the time. Initial appointments were 2 hours. Before I left she took several vials of blood with those vacuum tubes they use now and asked if I could come twice a week for a month or so as we evaluate my situation and decide on what direction to take. Oh and stop any anti depressant medication for the time being. 'Friday morning, same time, Samantha.' I said sure and headed for work. I didn't quite get the cold shoulder but it wasn't super friendly either. My feet seemed to have adjusted and didn't hurt anymore. The 2 inch heels seemed perfectly natural. Small mercies. As I was leaving Janette called out to wait she would walk with me. I stopped and stared out the window till she came up and taking my arm led me outside. We walked in silence for about half a block then I angled to a bus stop and sat. She stood for a moment then sat beside me. "Ok Jan. I, um, I guess you know more about me than either of us might like right now. What is it you feel? Betrayed, violated somehow? Do you .... Shit. What gave me away?" "Betrayed, violated, yes I suppose a little of each. It was a bunch of little things. Gestures, phrases, your stance. Then as you stood to go that night the way you spoke and stood there, it was a dead ringer for Pete. My ex. Um, then the way you looked at me and went pale. You just turned and left. I knew. And you knew I knew. I was angry. You'd tricked me into believing something that wasn't real. I watched as you walked away hugging yourself. It suddenly occurred to me how hard it must be for you. Thinking that a potential friendship could turn. How much you would dread the viciousness, not necessarily physical, that could come your way. How close I had come to claiming some victory over I'm not sure what. I kept turning it over in my mind all weekend. Then Monday I wasn't sure what to do or say and then you left so abruptly. I was sure you hated me and wouldn't come back. But you did. That must have taken some guts, not knowing the reception you'd get. You seem like a nice person and you're good to work with. I would like to be your friend if you would let me in. I don't need to know your life story. Just whatever you want to share. I've never met someone like you before, that I know of anyway." She took a deep breath and took my hand, "Since my marriage broke up and I moved here I've been pretty much alone. I think you have a lot of pain you're trying to deal with. So, um, as I said the other night before we got sidetracked if you want to talk I'm available. I guess you haven't been living this way too long. With a bit more practice no one would ever pick you. You're very attractive. Not pretty exactly but very nice all the same." She must have felt me tense a little. Suddenly she laughed out loud, "Don't worry Sam. I'm not coming on to you. You're not exactly my type. The guys I fancy would never look as good as you do in that outfit." That struck a nerve somewhere deep. Without even realising it the tears were flowing and I had to hold my breath to stop a sob escaping. "Oh hey. Come on. What's wrong? Did I say something?" She took me in her arms as the sob escaped and I just bawled for a minute. Then started hiccupping as I tried to pull myself together. It took another couple. "Ah. Sorry about that Janette. I seem to be rather emotional lately. Didn't mean to dump any on you." "Don't worry about it. Glad I could help a little even if I did set you off. Those hormones can play havoc with your emotions. Hell you should have seen me at 13. I guess this is sort of a second puberty for you, eh Sam. Is that your name?" I was momentarily stunned, she wouldn't would she; pulled it together. "Yes it is. Samuel Leonard Keough, or perhaps Samantha Leonie. Sam. I'm not exactly sure who I am anymore but I'm working on it." We sat in companionable silence for a minute or so. She still had her arm around my shoulders, which felt nice. "Can I give you a lift home Jan? My cars just round the corner." She nodded and directed me to her place. A nice looking little bungalow. It was slightly out of the way but I felt better that she wasn't walking as she usually did. I waited until she had the door open and we waved to each other as I drove off. It was after 8.30 when I pulled into the drive and just sat there in the carport for a while. There were lights on so Kara was home. She probably knew I was out here but there was no movement at the door. Didn't want to cause another argument I suppose. I really needed to get my head straight. Hopefully Dr Silverman could sort out the mess and point me down a clearer path. Kara was her usual self, kissed me on the cheek and led me to the table. She had prepared a nice bowl of nicoise salad, crisp Italian rolls and a dry white wine. We sat and ate with some general 'how was your day' conversation. I couldn't ask the question that was in my mind. I'd know Friday morning anyway, one way or another. Thursday came and went. Jan and I were friends again, shared a coffee and I dropped her home. Friday morning. I sat nervously waiting. "Good Morning Samantha. Please come in." Some basic pleasantries aside I launched straight in and asked about the blood tests. Dr Silverman gave me a steady look and asked was there something she should know. "Ah no. I'm just wondering. I, um, I've been strangely emotional lately and was wondering if something might be out of whack." She nodded but kept looking at me steadily. "Your hormonal balance is slightly outside normal. That is simply, your female levels are slightly higher and your male levels are a little low. Nothing radically outside 'normal' parameters, but do indicate a trend in concert with your physical appearance and manner. Also you'll be happy to know your cholesterol levels and blood pressure are very good. You obviously keep fit and eat well. There is no evidence of, ah, synthetics, in your system. The mood swings are I believe a contraindication with your anti depressants, hence my request that you stop for the time being. They are in effect making things worse not better. It's an inexact science. Also a general malaise brought on by depression. Which is entirely real, we will need to work on that." She paused for a moment and considered her next words carefully. "Let me head off something here that may be counterproductive to your sense of self. Your wife came to see me some time ago. She explained her feelings and belief about your innate nature. I am yet to decide on that. But I agree that you need some closure to your personal angst. Yes, I know, pithy psycho-babble, but your problems are real. Your wife did not dope you with hormones. She could have. She's a vet and has access to at least stilboestrol, an oestrogen replacement banned for use on women due to possible generational cervical cancer but still used for animals. Theoretically safe for you as you cannot reproduce in that sense. But she did not and I believe her feelings for you are genuine. She could have played me. But that is not easy to do. I have already stated my belief as to the cause of your, ah, moodiness. As for the rest we need to discuss that and reach some form of consensus. Fear is a powerful emotion. You are afraid you may not be as you believed yourself to be. Let's work on it shall we?" 9. The next 2 months passed relatively uneventfully. My weekly with Jenny continued apace. She assured me that with only a few more weeks of electrolysis my face would be smooth as silk. I saw Dr Silverman twice a week and she was right my 'mood' did indeed improve and I was greatly relieved to have part of my suspicions of Kara dismissed. I was however somewhat guilty that I could have entertained the idea in the first place. Work was fine. Jan and I were becoming friends. She and Samantha shared a coffee after work each night and I dropped her home. I had even been inside on a few occasions. She was almost obsessively neat. Too much time to dwell on being alone. Tony was his usual cheerfully obnoxious self with Bill as a laconic, self deprecating counterpoint. Lucy played the benevolent dictator and the kitchen worked like a machine. I also discovered that a decent proportion of the income was generated by sales of condiments, biscuits and cakes through secondary outlets all over the country. The caf? was mentioned in a few cheap eats guides and had a certain fame. No wonder the strange hours and abnormal business. There was a breakfast shift 6-10 and weekends. They were handled by others I had never met, though Bill knew everyone as did Anna and Bob. Appointment 10 with Dr Silverman, something of a moment of truth. The path forward was to be debated today. Was I nervous, nahhh. Bullshit! "Come in Samantha. You're looking good, how do you feel overall? Decisive?" This last said with a big grin that I just had to reciprocate. Shaking my head slightly I followed her in and sat. Just an aside, she doesn't have a couch. Just a lovely, comfy, lived in, arm chair. She sat looking at me with a half smile on her face. Ok. I guess this one is for me to kick off. "Um, well I think Kara was probably right. ... I have been living like this 7 days a week, 24 hours a day for months and only 1 person has picked me as male. Much as a part of me hates to admit it, I'm comfortable. Especially since I stopped the anti depressants the world is back in colour and I feel part of things rather than standing just outside looking through dirty glass. I am a little afraid that if I tried to be Samuel I would lose myself again. So... I ... ah..." "I have been observing you closely for the past 9 weeks. Strictly speaking I have never met Samuel, but I expect he's a decent guy, with a few problems. Samantha, however I have come to know quite well and I like her. She has her own problems, but she's getting there. What is it you fear?" Now that is a hell of question. All sorts of things can cause embarrassment or pain, perhaps both. The sneering superiority of 'normal' people as you're outed in public and then beaten up to the strains of "Lola" by the kinks and a teenage cheer squad stands idly watching as they pop bubble gum. The less likely. Being buried alive or eaten by a shark. All things to fear. But... the idle musings of a strange mind was not what she wanted I'm sure. "Ah, I suppose what I fear most is that should this go much further I will lose the only relationship, the only intimacy, that ever meant anything. She will ultimately leave me. If not physically, at least emotionally and sexually. She will want a relationship that I can no longer provide. And that will tear me in half. If I am just a girlfriend... Um..." "Samantha. If you follow this road are you getting closer to yourself? And if so is a more integrated person more or less likely to have a meaningful relationship. Do you honestly fear that possibility? You cannot make a decision regarding y