Scott s Yucca Man Tale
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A Short Tale free porn video
A Short Tale
My name is Bill. I live in a suburb in a cul-d-sac. It about 30 minutes
outside of Toronto. There are 8 houses on the edge of town. My street
is a little community. Most of the wives are stay at home moms, whose
children have moved out. That means that they do lunch, gossip, and
generally find ways to occupy their time while the husbands go off to
work.
I am not married. I don't have anything against marriage. It just never
happened for me. I have had a few girlfriends over the years. But I
never found "the one".
I work as a manager in the purchasing department of a company that makes
plastic parts. I have 25 people reporting to me. It was easy for me to
rise from entry level to mid management over the years being a bachelor.
I was always available for extra hours, or the one to fix a problem when
all the "family men" had to go home.
It is a pleasant life.
It is mid December. This Saturday, will be the annual Christmas party at
my next door neighbor's house. Charlene and Dave do this every year. It
will be the usual. Everybody brings food and drink. The women always
dress in their best. The men may or not wear jackets and ties. It
always seems that women want to dress up more than the men.
I do the New Years Eve party.
This year we have a new neighbor. She moved in a few weeks ago. I have
not met her. I have seen her leaving for work in the mornings and coming
home in the evenings. We wave, but have not had the chance to talk. She
is always dressed in business office wear. Suits, skirts, heels.
I hope she is at the Christmas party. She is tall and pretty. I hear
that her name is Sarah.
I am now at Charlene and Dave's Christmas party. I wore a nice suit. I
am dressed up more than most of the men, but I want to impress.
Sarah arrives. She is wearing a beautiful tailored dress and high heel
pumps. Her makeup must have taken hours. Wow.
In no time at all, Sarah is the center of attention. Well for the men
anyway. The men surround her, and get her drinks. The women all gather
in the kitchen and gossip. I end up in the kitchen. I generally end up
talking with the women in these parties. I am not a huge fan of
football, basketball or hockey, and that is usually what the conversation
with the men always ends up as.
The gossip with the women is all about Sarah. The women are having a
good laugh. They let me in on the joke. It seems that Sarah is a man.
Or used to be a man. They are not sure. They are ok with this, but
think that it will be funny when their husbands find out.
A bit later, I corner Dave. He has always been a good neighbor. Always
ready to lend a hand, or mow my lawn if I am away. I tell him about
Sarah. He laughs and says, "We all know that. Our wives think that we
don't. So don't tell them."
It seems that the men are also having a joke on their wives.
I ask Dave how he feels about having a transgendered neighbor. He says
"This is 2020. I am ok with it. And as far as I know, the others are
fine with it. These days, everybody has at least one friend or
acquaintance that is gay."
I am impressed. I guess the world is changing for the better.
Later I get to chat with Sarah. Now that I am looking for it, I can see
that her chin is a bit more square and her voice is a bit deeper.
But she is a total sweetheart. I find out that she will be visiting
family on Christmas day, but will return that evening and staying around
for the following week until New Years day. She says that she wants to
relax and do some shopping.
I ask her if she would have dinner with me. She declines and says, "I
don't want to mislead anybody. I am a lesbian. I like girls."
I laugh and say, "So do I. But I would still like you to come over for
dinner. Just as two people, not a date. No pressure, I promise."
She says, "Maybe. When?"
I suggest Christmas Eve, which is in a couple of days. She cautiously
says yes. I get her phone number. She is a bit reluctant to give it
out, but I point out that she lives next door to me.
We chat some more, but soon the other women get involved. There has been
quite a bit of drinking by now, and Charlene, who is now quite drunk
start joking that we two single people should get together. I don't
think Sarah thought it is funny.
I slip off to talk to the men about whatever topic is current. It seems
to be snow blowers, and cars. At least they are not teasing me about
flirting with Sarah.
The next morning, I wake up, with a minor hangover. Since it is Sunday,
I have to figure out what to cook for Sarah, and do some shopping. I
finally settle on a cheese fondue. It is one of my favorite guest meals.
The preparation can all be done ahead of time, and after the guests or
guest in this case arrive, just turn on the electric fondue pot, stir a
couple of times, and dinner is ready.
I get out of work at noon on Christmas Eve. Most of my co-workers go to
the bar for a few drinks, but I don't, giving the excuse that I have some
last minute Christmas shopping to do.
I get home, and start preparing. I get all the bread and cheese cut up
for the fondue. I make sure there is wine chilled, and coffee ready to
be made. I have some frozen desert ready. Once everything is ready food
and drink wise, I get ready.
I call Sarah and expect to leave a message to let her know I will be
expecting her at 6:00 PM. And ask her to let me know if that is too
early. But she answers the phone. I find out that she only has a cell
phone. But she will be able to be here at six. She also got out of work
early and went to do some last minute shopping.
I want to look my best when Sarah arrives.
I still have a few hours to get ready.
At ten past six, my doorbell rings. I have a remote doorbell app, so I
can see that it is her on my smart phone. I unlock the door and tell her
to come on in.
When she gets in, I yell downstairs, "I will be down in a minute. Keep
your shoes on. Can you open the wine please. It is in the kitchen."
The "shoes" is a Canadian thing. Americans leave shoes on, but
Canadians, and most of the world remove shoes indoors. I think American
women have a special relationship with their shoes. And no outfit is
complete without the shoes.
After two minutes, I am ready. I come downstairs, and enter the kitchen.
I check my reflection in a hallway mirror.
My hair is teased. My eyes are done in an evening smoky look. My
lipstick is fire engine red and my nails match, my dress is a hostess
dress with a flared skirt and 4 inch strappy sandals.
My heart is pounding. I don't expect her to freak out, but I am not
exactly sure how she will react.
She smiles. Now my heart stops pounding, and starts fluttering.
She says, "You look lovely."
I reply, "You are ok with this?"
She answers, "I expected it. I could tell when I met you. A transgender
can often see it in another. And you were easy to detect. The way you
checked out the way I dressed and my makeup."
She goes on. "Men pretend not to look at boobs and legs. But they are
not that discrete. Women can always tell. But you checked out my shoes,
my jewelry and lipstick. Dead giveaways. We call it t-dar. What is
your name?"
I tell her it is Beth.
She hands me a glass of wine.
Maddy
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