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Kristen's Journey (part 4, Conclusion) free porn video
Kristen's Journey
Chapter 22: The Morning After
We invited Megan and her family over for brunch the next day. Their
flight home was not until early evening and I had volunteered to take
them to the airport. Besides, I promised Emily she could see my doll
collection. That consisted of mostly my Barbies that I brought with me
when I moved in with Rebecca (I had to promise not to leave them laying
around), a beautiful antique doll that she bought for my birthday, and
two more antique dolls I just bought (if they ever come to town, I'm
hoping to get on Antiques Roadshow because I'm sure one of those dolls
is worth a fortune).
Meagan and I had a long talk about mom. She didn't want to get my hopes
up earlier, but mom may be turning things around for herself. Right
after Megan told her that I had found happiness as a woman, she finally
agreed to meet with a therapist. Last week she went to Megan's house for
dinner and played with her granddaughter. Emily kept talking about going
to see Auntie Kristen. Mom then asked if Megan could send a picture.
"This morning I got a text back from her," Megan said as she turned her
phone around and handed it to me. There was a selfie of mom next to a
framed printed copy of the photo of Emily and me. The accompanying text
said 'please give Kristen my number.' I looked at Megan, and just
beamed. Emily's birthday is in two months. Rebecca already texted Carly
to make the travel arrangements.
While I was talking with Megan, Rebecca and Michael were hitting it off
talking about politics and business. Rebecca was carefully trying to
avoid talking about the real way we got into the public relations
business. It was working until Michael suddenly said, "Hold on a second,
your company is R&K Consultants isn't it. Of course Rebecca and
Kristen!"
"Umm, yes, you've heard of us? We just only just started to expand the
original company," said Rebecca.
"You're better known than you realize. I just took on a client that left
the disgraced Helena Steward. They even gave me the names of some of the
people who used to work on their account, recognizing at least one who
had sent us a resume, You two are the ones that took down Steward,
aren't you?!"
Rebecca looked to me for help.
"Michael, what are you so excited about? Kristen and I are trying to
have a conversation over here," my sister yelled.
"Megan, remember the dinner party a couple of weeks ago where we were
talking about the rumor that two lesbian avengers exposed her tax
evasion and blackmail. Your little sister and Rebecca are the famous
lesbians!"
"Look how late it's getting. We'd better head for the airport soon," I
said in hopes of changing the topic of conversation.
Michael was having none of it, almost.
"Sadly, your sister is right, we do need to leave soon. But how about a
conference call on Monday between you, Kristen, me and a couple of my
colleagues?" Michael asked Rebecca.
"Alright. I can see that there might be a lot of synergy between our two
companies," Rebecca said (there really must be, because she used the
word 'synergy', she only breaks that one out when she gets serious).
"Sorry Kristen, guess it was inevitable that it would leak out," Rebecca
said.
"Does that mean we're famous?" I asked.
"Guess so," she replied.
"Can I tell mom?"
Chapter 22: Finale
Summer and fall were consumed with work. Rather than being a
distraction, our notoriety really turned out to be an asset. There was
an article in the local paper about "The New Power Couple" in local
business. Rebecca and I were somewhat surprised that the reporter
managed to write the entire article without once mentioning 'trans' or
'lesbian' once. The times may be changing.
The most important pending event in our lives was New Years Eve, the
anniversary of our first date. I had been planning something special
since early September. It involved lying to Rebecca. I rationalized it
because the lie I told could be interpreted in two ways. I told her that
I was unhappy with my voice and that I thought voice lessons would be a
real help. Rebecca tried to reassure me that absolutely no one would
ever listen to me and not hear a female speaking. Maybe a year ago,
before I found the right timbre, intonation, and word choices, but
certainly not now. Nonetheless I insisted that I needed the lessons
because I was making so many more presentations now.
Hardest thing for three months was leaving without Rebecca wanting to go
with me, drop me off, and worst, asking what I learned. So what was I
really doing? I was taking voice lessons. As in singing lessons.
Throughout my school years, I was always in choir. Even had a few short
solo passages. My voice was in the upper ranges for a boy. One teacher
suggested that I could be a countertenor. Now I wish I could sing like a
soprano, but after three months I have developed a pretty nice mezzo
soprano voice. Not a lot of volume, but I'm happy.
So why did I want to improve my singing voice? I planned to serenade
Rebecca on our anniversary. We were going to replay our first date by
going to the opera and wearing the same dresses (with a couple of
changes like having sex afterwards, and one Rebecca doesn't know).
On New Years Eve, the limo picked us up and took us to the opera hall.
During the performance we held hands and played footsie just like a year
earlier. Afterwards instead of going straight to the reception, I acted
as if I was feeling a bit faint.
"Can we get some fresh air? It got a little warm in there," I asked.
"Of course! Are you ok?"
"I'll be fine. I just need to walk around for a few minutes, get away
from the crowd for awhile."
We rode down the escalator and went out the front entrance. It was a
relatively warm night for late December. The fresh air really did feel
good. I wrapped my arm around her elbow and said "Let's just walk around
the block."
After we turned the corner, I began to softly hum. Rebecca looked at me
and asked if I was feeling better. I smiled and and nodded yes, and
began to vocalize "la la la da la la". As we neared the door to a quaint
French restaurant we love, I stepped ahead of her and opened the door. A
violinist started just as I gently pulled Rebecca into the restaurant. I
started singing to the love of my life.
Des yeux qui font tomber les miens
Un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche
C'est le portrait sans retouche
De la femme ? qui j'appartiens
Quand elle me prend dans ses bras
Elle me murmure
Je vois la vie en rose
As I sang "la vie en rose," a waiter handed me a rose, I used it to
gesture to Rebecca to follow me towards a large group sitting in the
back room. At the table were Sarah, Megan and Michael, Chad and Amber,
Katie, Kelly, Gwen, and Angela.
I turned to Rebecca, handed her the rose, picked up a small box on the
table, opened it, took out a diamond ring and asked her to marry me. She
was shaking, tears running down her face, all she could muster was a
barely audible, "Yes."
"I wanted you to know how much I love you and I wanted to show you how
you've made me such a better person," It may not have been Edith Piaf
(or even Lady Gaga), but it was me and that was enough.
We were married in April. We're on our honeymoon. I'll send a post card
from Paris.
Author's note:
I wrote the first seven chapters ten years ago. I recently rediscovered
them in an old backup drive. What started out as an attempt to write
some erotic fiction, started to become too personal. I started to care
about the characters. I wrote the rest now in a different time with
marriage equality, transgender activists and celebrities. So I apologize
if there was not as much sexual content as originally intended, and
maybe a bit too much romance and sentimentality. But I wanted two
transgendered characters to be portrayed as intelligent, carrying, and
successful people. Two people who deserved love and to be loved.
Arisha
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