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Shock Me By Cassandra Morgan "...and that's why I like threesomes." Sometimes, you enter a conversation at precisely the wrong moment. I had just made my way across the bar and to the table, bringing a tray of drinks as I came. I was everything I could do not to have a spill, but I made it. That's how it works at O'Riley's. Someone has to buy, and someone has to fly. It was my job to fetch. It seems like it's always my job to fetch. By the time I got there, our small group was in heavy conversation. Stacy, the small woman with the helium-filled voice, the girl you wouldn't even think had ever had sex or even knew what it was, was talking about threesomes. I knew the game. It was called Shock Me. The ten of us fell into the familiar conversation easily about our sexual preferences. The goal was easy. If you could titillate the others, if you make their jaws drop, you had done your job. Hi. My name is John Penner. My wife Christine and I had known the others since college. Down deep, I thought of us as the conservative couple in the group. We fell in with the other couples the natural way, through bars, through social clubs, through sex talk. You know a couple like us. The woman is opinionated. The guy not so much. She is loud. He is quiet. She is blunt. He is shy. An on-top woman. An underneath man. Hey, it's 2015. Sex isn't that big a deal to us. There had been a few extra partners, a few games being played. It was all a giggle, wasn't it? We told ourselves we were mature for talking openly about sex. We are smarter than the vanillas. At the moment, though, Stacy had the floor. She was talking about threesomes. She seemed in favor of them. "I'm telling you, there is nothing like two partners," she was saying. "It's just raw sex. It's lust on a stick. One partner gets done with you, and damn if he can't tag-team the other one. I'm talking about an all- night dick party." Christine leaned forward. "And is this third partner usually a guy or a girl?" Stacy laughed. "Either, baby. Fish or steak, you know? It's a completely different dynamic. Last Saturday night, it was two guys and me. I finally figured out why a body has all those holes, you know?" Jason, Stacy's husband, grinned and looked away. Jason had slept with guys? Who knew? But it kind of made sense. He was an artist. He was a dreamer. I imagined him going down on a guy. Worse images have popped into my mind. "So, Jason," said Kelly, the blonde in the corner. She was with Rashad, her husband, a soft-spoken African-American man. "Do you like steak?" Jason shrugged. "It can be a nice meal," he said. "If you get the right cut. You know what I'm talking about, right John?" "No, Jason," I said. "I don't." "You've never tried gay sex? Not even once? A guy like you?" "What do you mean by that," I said, sitting upright. I was only 5-7, and I guess I looked a little, well, soft. But I didn't like being stereotyped.. "A guy like me? And no, I've never tried it." "Nothing, John," he said in a voice that said he didn't believe me. But it was true. I had been with two sexual partners, both female. A dozen times, people had thought I was gay, but I wasn't. Maybe it came from a natural passivity. "Oh, and let me tell you," Stacy said. "There is nothing more beautiful than watching two guys together, watching one guy's cock enter the other guy's mouth. I'm telling you. I'm getting steamy just thinking about it." Christine laughed and looked at Jason. "So when you're with a guy, are you a top or a bottom? Tell me." Jason grinned. "Oh, I'm a top," he said. "If you and John ever join us, then he'll find out. I'd tap that ass." I blushed. But that was the point of these conversations. Be so outlandish. Be so over the top that everyone is shocked. Last week, Rashad and Kelly were talking about tying each other up. Before that, Andrew and Samantha, were talking about wearing diapers and other bathroom games. Billy and Irene were into dressing up games. And Christine and I? Well, we liked having sex in public. Sue us. And so, old friends, we were comfortable enough to share our secrets. It was the one peculiarity that we all shared. We liked to talk. "Did I tell you that Billy dressed up like a priest last week," Irene said. "I was the cutest little altar boy." "Eww," Rashad said. "Not ewww," Irene said. "It was hot. He had his own commandments, you know. And, man, can you have a good time with Rosary beads." "Bless me, father," said Christine, laughing along. "Maybe he could bless your pacifier, Andrew," said Samantha. "A little holy water, so to speak, straight from his bladder." "We are all sick," Stacy said. "Thank God," Samantha said. "It's not so sick," Irene said. "It's just fun. It's just interesting to me how we all have different temptations. That just shows you how different sex is supposed to be. Did I tell you that Billy bought a Batman outfit? And he looks damn fine in it." The entire table broke into laughter, and the questions started. Was Irene going to be Catwoman? Poison Ivy? Robin? "Alfred," she said, and laughed herself. Billy looked a little embarrassed. He was the youngest one of us, only 24, and he was relatively new to kink. "It could be worse," he said. "I could be Terry." "Terry?" Christine asked. "Yeah, this guy we know from the Pepper Mill," Irene said. "You know, that bar over of Wilshire? Terry and his wife are into a whole new trip." "Which is?" "Mistress and sissy," Irene said. "Domination. It was Pamela's idea. That's his wife. She gets to be the domme, and she runs the house, and he wears a maid's dress and does chores." "How does that work for him?" Christine said. "He gets an erection from doing the dishes?" She turned to me. "Baby, you can work up a boner any time you want if you'll scrub the fryer." "He kinda does," Irene said. "It's really more about the discipline than the clothes, although he seems to like those, too. But it's about humiliation and being told what to do. It's the damnedest thing. The guy freaking likes to clean." Christine looked at me again. "That would be perfect for John," she said. "He's such a gentle soul." "Stop it," I said. Did my voice catch? "No, I'm serious, Johnny. Don't you want to make my breakfast?" Everyone laughed but Christine. She kept looking at me. A wolf looks at chickens with those eyes. "Can the maid be the Nanny, too?" Samantha said, looking at her husband. "Can she powder his little bottom?" "Bottom?" Jason said. "Where? I like bottoms."" Andrew made a face. "So he cleans? Cooks? Where is the fun in that?" "Again, it's in the acceptance of it all," Irene said. "And he's a she. That's what they both call her. She's a sissy. Dresses. Panties. Lipstick. All of it. As I understand, he was always a gentle soul. Then one day, she bought him a skirt to cross-dress in, and things led to things." "You'd look good in a skirt." Christine said to me. No one laughed this time. "Maybe a dress." Were trains rolling past? There was a thundering in my head. Why didn't I object? Why? Christine took hold of my hand. "Guys...we're going to go check for a supply closet, ok?" Everyone laughed. She stood. "Come on, Sissy," she said, "I have an itch." We walked away as everyone kept chattering. About bondage. About cribs. About dressing as two lesbians. About us. Christine and I ended up in the ladies' bathroom. She pushed me against a stall, and she kissed me. Her pelvis grinded into me. "Come here, girly," she said, clearly intrigued by the notion of domination. "Be my bitch." I had seen Christine aggressive many times. She was a strong girl, fierce when angry, loving when gentle. This time, however, something had tripped her meter. She undid my pants. She pulled down her panties. An older woman walked into the restroom, saw what was going on, and left.Christine guided me into her. She rubbed my nipples. She cupped my ass. She called me her bitch. If this was a dance, she was in the lead. If I had not been so willing, she would have forced herself on me. "Call me Mistress," she commanded. And I did. * * * It was the next morning, a Sunday, and we were lying in bed. We had made love three more times that night, counting my oral performance, and every time we had had penetration, she had been on top. She had never taken charge like this. I found it erotic, exciting. There are worse things. Now, she was in the crook of my arms. Her fingers rotated slowly around my nipples. She picked her panties off the bed and dangled them over my penis, watching it stir as it was teased. "I want to try this," she finally said. "I want you to be my lady. I think it will be fun." "Christine, I don't want to do this. I'm not a girl." "You could be a sissy," she said. "You could be my sissy." "Christine. What appeals to you about this? Why does it affect you so strongly? Do you like chicks all of the sudden." She thought. "It's the power, I guess. Having someone to be in charge of. Getting to make all the decisions. I'd love to be in charge." "Christine, you already make most of the decision. Where we live. What we do. Who we spend time with. Where we eat." "Then it won't be that hard an adjustment, sweetie. Tell you what. Try this for a month. For two months. Let's see if it works. If it does, it'll be a great story at Shock Me time." I didn't say anything. It sounded like work. It sounded like humiliation. It sounded like dominance. Why was I so hard? I have thought about this. I don't know why the adaption to female came so easily for me. Maybe there is an attraction to turning off the part of your brain that worries about things beyond washing the laundry. Maybe the human spirit is so flexible it will adjust to whatever the conditions are. Maybe it was always a part of me buried deep inside. But the next day, Christine ordered me into the shower to shave my body. All of it. She gave me a type of Nair to use on top of that. I wasn't a hairy guy, anyway. But it felt strange to have all the hair gone. It felt erotic being so smooth. That was just the start, though. The panties were a dream. The hose were wonderful. Angels should wear a bra. She handed me a small black dress to wear. "We'll get your maid dresses this week," she said. "Now, about makeup..." I wish I could tell you that this was all for Christine, that she got the only pleasure from it. I can't. I loved the women's clothing. I have never been a transvestite, but I could see the attraction. The clothing was softer, prettier. I loved the way the hems danced at my thighs. I loved the way the bodice hugged my sides. Now, I know that with a lot of transvestites, things manifest itself when they are children. But for me, the awakening was coming at age 28. Christine gave me breast forms. A C-cup, she told me. She bought me a blonde wig. She told me how pretty I was, how nice I smelled, how soft I felt. She told me I was pretty. She fussed with my hair, with my nails, with my eyes. Maybe there is a part of all of us who would like this. In other cultures, men long to dress as women. It doesn't matter if they wear robes, they want the colors, the fabric, the cut, the look. It's a fact. Women's clothes feel better. And maybe it was part of me. Looking back, I admit it. This wasn't something I tolerated. I loved this. I dove into the deep end of the pool. Maybe I was a transvestite. Maybe I had wanted this all along and refused to think about it. Then the maid's uniforms came. And I fell in love. They were shorter than most dresses. They were frillier. They were all satin and lace from the apron to the mop hat. She had bought me four outfits, a pink, a white and two blacks. The white one looked like a wedding cake. I liked the other dresses in my closet, but not like the way I liked these. I slid a black one on. It was heaven, so light, so soft. I immediately wanted to fix my hair when I put it on, to freshen my lipstick. Yes, I was a sissy. How could I not know that? Christine found me washing the dishes that night. I had not yet started dinner. She leaned on the door jamb and smiled. "Should I invent a reason to spank you?" she said. "Oh, Mistress. The dress is wonderful. Thank you. Can I wear it forever?" "Yes, my sissy. Forever and a day." "Do you....do you think less of me?" "Gracious, no, John." she said. "I love you. I love this lifestyle. We have found a brand new kink. But you know, you're going to need a new name while you're dressed." "Am I?" "Yes, of course you are," she said. "How about...Penny? Penny as in Penner." Penny? Was I a Penny? Yes. Yes, I was. *** Christine puttered around the office. Often, this was my sanctuary, where I did my online writing. But lately, she was the one who was usually here. She would sit at the computer for hours, reading sissy fiction, scouting the femdom sites, trying to pick up hints about being a Mistress and owning a maid. Owning. Was that the word? Yeah, maybe. She read all the stories. The ones where the wives catch their husbands cheating. The ones where they are cross-dressers. The ones where they are bad bosses. The ones where the sissies watch as their wives make the cuckolds. But Christine just saw something in her husband that made her recognize a sissy. Part of it thrilled her. Part of it infuriated her. She would have to work it out. What was it about being a Mistress that attracted her? What was it about having a sissy bow and scrape? Oh, it was nice to not have to worry about the household chores. That was true. She was always a bit of a slob. John used to say that she was the only woman he knew who would leave a bra in the fridge. But there was a regal streak to her, too, and this satisfied that streak. She liked having her tea served to her. She liked having her clothes ironed and laid out. She liked being cooked for. She liked being served. And her husband in skirts? She liked that, too. It wasn't that she was attracted to transvestites. Not particularly. If she suspected one was in a store, she wasn't unbothered either way. It was John. It was watching him dress every day, watching him put on the clothes of a servant, watching him mince about the house. John in a dress, bowing and scraping. That was the attraction. For instance, Christine bought a dildo, large and black and foreboding. She liked to roll me onto my side and slide it into my butt. Or into my mouth. She would talk dirty as she did it, about how much of her cock I was taking, about how I must loved penis, about how she couldn't wait to see me take a real one. And so our lives changed. Damn, Christine used to get so mad at John. She still got mad some, when Penny's food wasn't up to par, when she found water spots on the glassware. Still, she was pretty damn good. And she worked her ass off. She was up by 6 a.m., and she didn't clean the dinner dishes until almost 8 p.m. She didn't take a day off. She wasn't going to take tonight off, either. She'd find out about that. Christine smiled to herself in anticipation. She had invited the whole gang over for drinks. And without anyone knowing about it, she was going to have Penny serve the party. The white maid's dress would be perfect for this. Yeah, they would be shocked, all right. It was lunchtime when she broke the news to Penny. Penny had prepared a nice soup and sandwich combo, light but filling. She stood by the table, waiting to see if Christine would invite her to sit down. That was part of the attraction, Christine reminded herself. The subjugation was her pleasure. Finally, Christine pushed her plate away. She had about four bites of her sandwich left, but none of the soup. "You may eat, Penny," she said, smiling. "Thank you, Mistress," Penny said. She picked up the food and began to nibble. It was good, ham and water cress on multigrain bread. "Penny, we haven't seen our friends in so long. Don't you think we should?" "Perhaps, ma'am. You've been very busy." "I was thinking we could get together tonight. What do you think?" "That would be nice if you wish it, Mistress. But what would I wear? I obviously don't want them to see me as Penny," "But that's the Shock Me factor, Penny! I thought you could wear your white maid's outfit and serve. IT would be so much fun." "Mistress, you aren't serious, are you?" "Of course I'm serious, sissy. You have to be upfront with them. They are our friends. You know all of their secrets. Besides, you come out one time, and no one will think it's a big deal anymore. You're just my sissy. They'll adjust, the same as they adjusted when we told them about having sex in the department store." I didn't say anything. I turned away in anticipation of my shame. Christine came up behind me. "They'll know you're a fag, a cocksucker, a wimp, Penny. They'll know you take up up the butt." "But ma'am. I don't. Not real ones." "They won't know that, will they? You see a man in a dress, and you will believe he will debase himself in any manner possible. Jason likes guys. I bet he tries to fuck you. I bet you'll like it. And if you want to, sweetie, it's okay with me. Get your girl on." My cheeks burned. I hoped it wasn't true that Jason was interested in me. These were my friends. But there had always been an unofficial rule that none of us slept with each other. "Mistress, I'm not gay." "There is a difference, Penny, in being gay and being a sissy. Nothing is wrong with either one, of course. But sissies don't suck cock for the pleasure of it; they suck cock because their Mistresses tell them to. Gay men don't dress in skirts. Not many of them, anyway. They don't streak their hair. They don't paint their nails. They don't wear lipstick. Sissies do all that. And, damn it, if I tell people you suck cock, then you better admit that you do. Or you will. Now, why don't we vacuum the apartment and get ready?" From the first time I had put on panties, I had not dared to disobey. But now, I tried to think of a way out of this. I didn't want everyone to know I was a sissy. The fact it was the truth made it more important that no one knew. Nothing came to me. As it turned out, there was no way out but to come out. * * * Rashad and Kelly were the first guests to arrive. I opened the door, and immediately, I looked at the floor. They were always beautiful together, the striking blonde and the handsome black man. Now, I could not look at either of them. "Won't you come in," I said. "Oh, my God," Kelly said. "You're precious! Is this new? You're a girl?" Rashad laughed. "No, he's a fag. Hell, I always knew you were." he said. "Good to know where I should park my dick if I need to." "Rashad! Kelly! You two look great as always," Christine was playing the grand hostess now. She stood beside me, but she ignored me, the way women do with hired help. She kissed Rashad on the lips. She hugged Kelly. "Can Penny get you anything? She's such a dear." "Christine," said Kelly. "You have to tell me about her. How long will she be in your employ?" "Oh, she'll be here for awhile. I'm afraid she doesn't have any clothes but the ones I've bought her. And she's really taken to the job." "I've got something she'll take to," Rashad said. "Something right here." I wasn't used to Rashad being crude. He had always been so gentle. But a sissy brings out the alpha or the beta in people. I could imagine him tying me up. He'd be merciless. There was something to be said for that. Both Rashad and Kelly took drinks from my tray as the doorbell rang. This time, it was Jason and Stacy. Jase and Stace. I opened the door for them and invited them in. Stacy embraced me. "Christine told me!" she said. "I'm so glad you have found yourself, Penny. Isn't bisexuality great? Double your fun." I started to protest that I wasn't bisexual. But Christine had warned me that she was going to say that I was. I didn't want to contradict her. Better for everyone to think I liked guys than to anger Mistress. Did I think that? "Hey, cutie," Jason said. "I'm glad you finally admitted who you were." Soon, Andrew and Samantha were here. Then Billy and Irene. Then my sister. Then our neighbors, the Flemings. Then a pair of strangers I didn't know, Teddy and Patricia. God knows what they were into. Me, probably. You cannot imagine the embarrassment of that night. Christine won this round of Shock Me, that was certain. But it wasn't enough to show me in a dress with makeup. She had to talk about how I loved to give blow jobs. She talked about how I liked to kept in a cock cage. She had to talk about how I was going to get breast implants as soon as I figured out how big I wanted them to be. What had I done, really, to deserve all of this? I hadn't cheated. I hadn't lied. I hadn't worn her clothes. In the fiction online, there is always something a sissy does to provoke the response from the Mistress. But Mistress Christine just seemed to enjoy my discomfort. To her, having a sissy meant an embarrassment game. She was winning. *** Jason and Stacy propositioned me halfway through the evening. I would have guessed they would make the first pass. They were openly into threesomes, and a sissy is perfect for a threesome. A bit man, a bit woman. Stacy wanted me to lick her. Jason wanted to pound my ass. If we did it just right, they agreed, they could do both at the same time. Billy and Irene were next. They liked dressing up, and what could be better than a maid's outfit? I would have guessed Billy and Irene would move quickly. We could all be maids, they said, and get into an orgy while cleaning a hotel. I could be Hazel from the old tv show, and they be Mr. and Mrs. B. Rashad and Kelly surprised me. Since I was into submission, they figured it wasn't that much of a stretch to be into theirs. You get trapped by nylon ropes, you get trapped by silky panties, what's the difference? "I want to see you beg for it," Rashad said. "I want you to blow me while you're in handcuffs." Andrew and Samantha came last, which surprised me. They were into infantilism, which meant a Nanny could be hired to change Drew's diaper and to play dollies with him. Samantha hinted that I could play with her, too. She suggested I might like a golden shower. With every suggestion, my embarrassment grew. I was an object of sexual desire to everyone. Everyone could take their particular fetish and point it at me. It was as if omission was the center of the fetish world. At least, it seemed that way to me. Jason was the most insistent about it. At one point, he rubbed his crotch against my backside. It was as if he had found a kindred spirit. And Christine was doing nothing to discourage it. At one point, she wondered why Jason didn't taste my lipstick. So he did. Softly and urgently, in front of everyone. I could have died. In the end, I didn't do anything sexual with any of them. I just served, and I blushed, and I was a girl. Every one of them had a smug look in their eyes. That no matter what they liked, I was beneath all of them. Was that normal? Do maids always feel that way? If someone wanted a girl, I was for them. If they wanted a guy, I was for them. I felt...disposable. When they had all left, though, I did feel free. I didn't have to worry about any of them any more. They knew what I was. Discovery was no longer a fear. I was out. I was a sissy. And, as such, I adjusted. When it was time for me to take my morning pill, I adjusted. When the boobs plumped and swelled, I adjusted. When it was time for me to go to the hair salon, I adjusted. When it was time to have my penis locked in a cock cage, I adjusted. This was my life. I scrubbed. I dusted. I folded. I ironed. I cooked. It was no longer a kink. It was life. *** Over the weeks, something seemed to change in Christine. She became shorter, more demanding, quicker to lose her temper. She was colder. More merciless. One day, she lost it over a blouse where the stain hadn't come out. She actually spanked me over that one. Turned me over her knee and pounded my ass. It was humiliating. I cried for hours. And then Christine berated me because I cried like a wimp. She began to openly flirt with Rashad, with Jason, with Billy. She would suggest that they find a supply closet to have sex in, the way she once did with me. I didn't think she was have sex with them, but she certainly wasn't having it with me. She scoffed at the size of my penis. She joked about how another guy would be fun "once he got past the used part." She grew mean, demanding. At first, I told myself that this was for my good, that she was doing what I needed to be a good sissy. But she didn't seem to like spending time with me that much. We never had a political discussion, the way we did in the old days. We never talked about movies. We never talked about music. We never even played Shock Me. Look, all sissies are insecure. I know that. We live for the smallest praise on how we washed dishes or put away laundry. But I was feeling no warmth from her at all. At times, I wondered if someone else might be. * * * It was a Tuesday afternoon when Jason showed up unannounced. Christine had told me he would. I invited him in and poured him a cup of coffee. I asked if I could get him something to eat. "Besides you?" he said, grinning. "Oh, come on," I said sadly. "Hell, Penny. I'm just flirting. I don't rape women. I just think we should be together. We're the two people in the group who have gay tendencies. And Christine knows it. She knows I've wanted you. She's encouraged it. After all, she's getting it often enough from Rashad." "Rashad? And Christine?" "You didn't know? Hell, it's obvious. It's even a clich?. Even all the stories have the wife hanging out with the black guy. You know what's funny? He's such a bad ass with Kelly. But she ties the knots in that relationship." I was dizzy. My head was reeling. Christine was sleeping around? After all she had done to me? After all...of the changes? After I wore the cage? After I started the hormones? I hate to admit it, but at the moment, all I wanted was to lash back at her. Then Jason delivered the kill shot. Rashad and Christine had been stealing from me. My savings were gone. My retirement account had been cashed in. I was broke. And broken, "Are you okay, Penny?" Jason said. "What can I do?" I looked at Jason. He looked warm. He looked comforting. He looked like, well, what the hell? I should have stopped, but I didn't. "You can kiss me," I said. And he did. It was soft and tender. His tongue danced in my mouth. I felt his cock push against me. His hands were on my small breasts. After all these weeks, I finally felt wanted. Damn Christine. Who was she to encourage me to fool around on our vows? Who was she to cheat? And oh-my-Lord-that-feels-good. It was as if I had been lost, and I was found. I was thirsty, and then I was plunged into cold water. Jason pushed downward on my shoulders. I fell to my knees. Then I was undoing his belt, and his huge dick was pushing at me. I engulfed the knob. I licked the shaft. I started to make love to his glorious cock. It was my first blow job, but I was determined he was going to enjoy it. His skin was so soft, and his shaft was so hard, and it fit perfectly between my lips. He pulled at my hair, bringing me into him. And then the door opened. And Christine walked in. * * * "Well, shock me," she said. "I guess my husband is a cocksucker after all. Who would have imagined that?" I removed Jason from my mouth. It was wet and heavy, still huge, still hard. I looked up at her defiantly. I was pissed. "Isn't this what you wanted?"' I said to her, finally standing up for myself. "So you can feel better about fucking around?" "Dearest, I feel just fine about fucking around. Rashad is a man. You are not. You're some boy-girl concoction that was eventually going to blow a guy. It was just a matter of time. I fucked Andrew, too. He isn't bad if you don't mind the diaper." I felt ashamed. I had been so predictable. But she had set things in motion. She had screwed around. "I'll leave," I said. I got up. I walked to the bedroom. She didn't chase after me, the way they do in the movies. She didn't try to talk me out of it. I stuffed clothes into a gym bag. Panties. Bras. Dresses. That's all I had. She had thrown out my guy stuff long ago. I didn't have money. I didn't know where I was going to go. I just knew I had to leave. I walked out of the apartment and down the stairs. I walked out of the sidewalk, where not long ago I had been afraid to travel. But to go somewhere, you had to leave where you are. So I moved. "Penny, hold on." I turned, and it was Jason. He hurried to catch up to me. "Oh, Jase. I'm sorry. We were a mistake," I said. "I know," he said. "I get that. But Stacy and I have a spare room. Won't you stay with us til you're back on your feet? No hassles, I promise. From either one of us." "Thank you," I said. "If you don't mind, if Stacy doesn't mind, that would be nice." And so I moved in with the Fun Couple, Stace and Jase. I cleaned for them. I cooked for them. It was all kept platonically. I was just a domestic. There was no more kink to this. I worked my ass off. I maintained the house. I looked the other way when they had a third party sleep over. It isn't a maid's place to judge. And so the days flew by. I took a job at the Hyatt as a maid. I stopped hanging out with the gang because I didn't want to run into Christine. I shopped. I bought gas. I was just another maid doing her job. I started going to book club meetings, the dullest function in a vanilla life. That was what I wanted. I was normal. I never thought about dating. If I had, I might have wondered if I wanted a woman or a man. As it turns out, my first relationship outside of my marriage was with neither. Her name was Jessi. She was a trans woman. I met her at one of the readings when she was talking about her new biography. She asked what I thought about the book. We talked. We went for coffee. We talked some more. I hadn't read her book, so I didn't realize she was a pre-op trans. She didn't know I was a sissy. We were just hanging out. In the days to come, we hung out more. I found out that she was once a boy named Jessie. She found out I was once a boy named John. It didn't matter. We were good company. Oh, I know. There are subtle differences between a transexual woman and a sissy. She didn't have the compulsion to clean, for one thing. Or to serve. But she would bring me tea, too. She was sweet and gentle and rarely demanding. Then, one night, she kissed me. Softly, like a butterfly whisper. She was soft. She smelled nice. We moved to the bedroom, and we made slow, urgent love. Turns out, her penis still worked. Yes, if you're wondering, it was bigger than mine. Isn't everyone's? As for mine? It hadn't worked for months. But with Jessi, it twitched to life. And so we were women, and we were men, and we were gender outlaws. What we were were lovers. Who knew how things will turn out? We had both been through some much, and we had both lived so many lives. But together, we were comfortable. We fit. It was a Tuesday, I think, when a knock came at the door. I answered it. As you might have guessed, it was Christine. "Hi," she said. "Hi," I said. Behind me, I heard Jessi get up and leave the room to give us privacy. "Penny, I owe you an apology. I should have told you about Rashad and I." "Yes," I said. "You should have." "We're not together anymore. I've gotten some counseling. I'd like you to come back home and give me another chance. "I .... can't. I'm with someone now." "Please. I love you, clothes and all. I miss you. Besides, the house is a mess. Besides, you aren't with Jason anymore. Stacy told me." "Christine, what can I say? I know this. I'm different, but I'm a good person. I have a good heart. I deserve someone who will treat me with dignity, someone who will let me a maid without rubbing my face in my inferiority. We weren't like that. You enjoyed putting me down, not letting me live there." "Why don't we start slow? Work our way up to what used to be?" It would have been so easy to say yes. Part of me still loved her. And I didn't have anyone else. I was hanging onto a sissy's life with every ounce of my strength. But I know right, and I know wrong. And I knew Christine and I were wrong. I know that Jessi and I were right. Slowly, I closed the door on her. And on the first part of my life.