For the past week, since talking to Human Resources and my own manager, things had been going quite well for me at the work place. Carissa had settled into the job at the help desk once worked by Carl. Everyone at the cable company knew that Carl was history.
I was probably handling a couple of dozen calls a day. Most called for simple solutions. Some were more complex requiring me to talk someone through the problem.
For the most part I was getting along well with my co workers. Joe Pollard talked to me just about every day. In fact I talked to him more now than Carl ever had. I was less secretive than Carl.
Jill Blaine, a butch lesbian, worked in the accounts receivable/ billing office. Her light brown hair was cut very short like a boy would wear it. She never wore earrings. She often wore tight slacks.
I always felt that with a little makeover Jill could be quite pretty. Her face was oval shape. She had a full lip but not a wide mouth and nice blue eyes.
She seemed to never stop talking. There’s an old song called “Girl Talk” which I had heard many times. Part of it’s lyric went “We love to chat about he dresses we will wear tonight. We chew the fat about our tresses and the neighbor’s fight.” When ever I heard it, Jill came to mind as an odd combination of butch behavior and girlish chat.
It began innocently enough one morning. I had been taking my morning coffee break in the cafeteria. She came by carrying a coffee and a muffin inside a cardboard takeout box.
“Do you mind if I sit with you?”
“No,” I said. “I don’t mind company.”
“Do you like working here?”
“I like it fine.”
“I understand you’re transgender.”
“You must put up with a lot of crap.”
“I deal with it.”
My life had changed suddenly one week earlier at the company Christmas party. Thousands of men who spend years trying to feminize themselves would give anything to have what happened to me happen to them. I went from male cross dresser to woman without the regimen of hormone therapy or surgery. Funny thing is I never felt the overpowering need to change my body. It was simply the occasional fantasy.
She seemed not to know where to go with the conversation. “I got myself a Harley. I love it. It’s great on gas.”
“I’m afraid of those things. I could never ride one.”
Jill giggled. “They’re not that scary girl. Some day I’ll take you for a ride on one.”
“No thanks,” I said grinning. “I prefer the safety of my car.”
“Oh well,” she replied. “I just wanted to ask.”
Two nights ago I sensed for the first time that I might actually be lesbian. When I had fallen asleep a few minutes after ten there was dream image of Brittany Spears. We had french kissed with great passion for several minutes. escort izmit The following morning while I showered I briefly imagined kissing Ellen Degeneres but then let go the thought as I dressed for the office. That part of me was private. I hoped that it was not true.
Jill was quite the opposite. That she’s lesbian was obvious from the way she carried herself, the way she dressed, and her occasional lustful comments. Not far away from us two of the secretaries were walking towards a table by the window. Jill leaned closer to me.
“The one on the left is really hot!”
“I wouldn’t know,” I answered softly.
“Oh yeah you would,” she replied quickly.
Finished with my coffee I headed back toward my desk walking quickly. Jill caught up with me.
“Bye,” I said.
“Bye sweety, I’ll see you.”
That’s quite enough Jill, I thought. I don’t swing that way! I finally reached my desk still asking myself why is she hitting on me? The thought repeated itself. I don’t swing that way!
I make my living fixing internet connectivity problems. The phone interrupted my thoughts but it was just as well it did. After taking the caller’s name and address then giving him my name for future reference we tackled his problem. The caller had a two computer network but only one was online and that only when he disconnected his router.
Five o’clock came around finally and I was on my way out of the building. Walking through the parking lot I planned my evening. The plan was to stop by the store and buy some groceries then head for home.
I had become a person given to crying when something happened to upset me. A couple of days later something terrible did happen. I loved my pet. Losing Fritz certainly could cause me to break down.
Fritz was a black labrador retriever. I could not bring him with me when I moved from my parents home into my apartment so I left him with my parents. They took very good care of him. Usually two or three times a week on my way home, I would stop at mom and dad’s house. Fritz would always trot out to play and compel me to pet him.
Unfortunately he was getting on in years. I had been living in my apartment for five years now. I had the dog six years before I moved. He was quite old. I could see him aging. He moved more slowly. He seemed less willing to chase the tennis ball.
This afternoon I decided to stop by mom’s house. It was time for that free meal and to see the love of my life, Fritz. As I came in the front door my mom looked at me. I could see in her eyes that something was wrong.
“Carissa,” she began slowly, “Fritz died this morning.”
O God no I thought. It was a battle to hold back the tears but the whole evening had been a somber occasion.
“It was just old age. The vet told us that his heart izmit escort wasn’t all that strong these days.”
I had spent an almost sleepless night thinking about that animal. I thought about the day when I first got him. He was one then, 7 in people years. Eighty-four is long enough for anyone else I thought but not for Fritz and me.
At the office the following day I did my best to put the tragedy out of my mind. It would not take much to crack the veneer. Losing Fritz was like losing a child. To make matters worse, I had my period when I awoke. The hormonal changes simply added to my feeling of sadness. For a brief instant I wished I had remained Carl but I can’t undue this magic.
It was the end of my work day when Jill came by the help desk. Somehow she could read my mood.
“Carissa are you OK hon?”
“I’m ok,” I replied.
She stared at me for a couple of seconds. We had just come to the exit door.
“You look like you lost your best friend.”
I broke and cried. “My dog died.”
“I’m so sorry!”
Jill hugged me. I rested my head against her shoulder untill the last tear slid down my cheek.
“I’ll bet my makeup is a mess.”
I loved that Jill was sensitive to my feelings.
“That’s nothing that can’t be fixed.”
“I have a dog at home. Ronda is an Airedale Terrier. She’s five.”
“I’ll bet she’s a lot of fun.”
“She is,” Jill answered. “That blouse is so pretty.” “Thank you,” I replied.
A row of five motorcycles were lined up along the thick iron bike rack. She came to the bike in the middle. The maroon and red flame pattern Harley Davidson Dyna Super Glide with black leather seat seemed to be her pride and joy.
“How do you like it?”
“It looks nice. What kind of mileage do you get?”
“44 to 50 mpg but it’s only a 3 and a half gallon tank.”
“Listen I’ve to get home.”
“Carissa wait a second.”
Her reaction to the death of my beloved pet had changed me. She made me ready to surrender to my desire to have another woman. I stopped and turned back because Jill acted like a friend. She stepped toward me and pressed her lips against mine. As if beyond my control I returned her kiss and enjoyed doing so.
I felt a hand smack my buttocks and giggled. Our premature foreplay had to be cut short for now at least.
“Hey listen if you’re not doing anything this evening come on over.”
An hour later, after I had time to change clothes and eat a TV dinner, I pulled up in my Saturn to the apartment complex at the address she had given me. I walked up to the door. The dog was barking. A voice calmed it.
“Ronda sit and be quiet.”
The door opened. Jill stood in the doorway.
“Come in make yourself izmit kendi evi olan escort at home sweetheart.”
I walked inside by way of the living room. Jill’s dog came toward me as I went to the sofa.
I gently rubbed the animal’s head and back while she sniffed me.
“If that dog were human I’d be all over her pussy.”
“How do you know she would enjoy you on her pussy?” I giggled.
“She would,” Jill replied.
“This is a nice place.”
We talked and I came to know Jill’s past and her gifts. As a child she was a tomboy. She knew at 12 that she wanted to have sex with girls. The watercolor painting on the wall showed her talent. When not running with the boys, climbing trees, or playing football she did a lot of art.
“I painted that one a year ago.”
“You’re a sports fan.”
The painting was of an NBA basketball player.
“I love watching Labron James. He’s got some awesome moves.”
I had never been a big sports fan even in my previous life. This Labron James was just another guy who happened to be a jock.
I wanted to take her that night. She kissed my neck then my cheek then my neck again. Her fingers found my clit still inside my panties and rubbed gently. While still dressed I had already cummed. Jill pulled off my slacks, my wet panties, my blouse then my bra. My nipples swelled as her fingers, applying gentle pressure, circled my boobs. Our lips puckered then pressed together, our mouths opened and tongues licked.
The dildo was an extension of her body. Jill eased me onto her mattress, and continued to caress me while it penetrated. Her technique was well practiced. Before long my clit swelled. My breathing quickened and muscles began to tighten all over my body. Soft moans became screams as I thrashed about on the bed. I was driven to ecstasy. My skin became flushed.
I had several orgasms. I didn’t count them but I lay there exhausted. My lover circled my torso and belly button with her fingers then proceeded to kiss my belly again and again.
“Thank you Jill,” I said. “That was so awesome.”
“You’re very welcome girlfriend,” she replied.
Morning came. I awoke among disheveled blankets with my girlfriend on my right. Jill and I turned to each other.
“You knew I would enjoy that last night.”
“It’s obvious girl from the way you looked at Stephanie as if you wanted to get into her panties then and there.”
I giggled. I had to admit she read me well. “I didn’t think anyone could notice. I thought I was being discreet.”
“You’re what we call a lipstick lesbian.”
There was no need for her to explain the term. I knew it’s meaning. She was aware that I knew it’s meaning.
Jill continued the thought. “Stephanie is straight. She’s always talking about her boyfriend.”
Moments later in the shower I caressed Jill’s lean body and gazed at her small boobs. They’re nicely proportional I thought.
I had changed also. While I didn’t go out of my way to come out, I no longer cared who learned about us.