X
I wake with a pounding headache and Liam’s hand creeping up my inner thigh. “Ouch.”
His fingers stop moving. I laugh painfully. “Not you, my head.”
He presses soft kisses to my temple as his hand continues its upward journey. “Let me make it all better.”
I turn my head away from him so he can hit
that spot
on my neck that drives me crazy and then open my eyes. There are two ripped-open condom wrappers on my bedside table, along with a Diet Coke can, a half empty Corona, and a platinum blond and magenta wig. “Last night was fun,” I drawl.
Liam reaches across me and grabs the wig. He sits up and puts it on. He’s still wearing the sequined dress, mostly. One of the straps is ripped. “It was extremely fun.” He smiles and shakes the long hair back off of his shoulders before scooching down underneath the covers and positioning his face between my legs. I notice his mascara is smeared.
He tucks his arms underneath my legs and lowers his mouth to me. I put my hand on the wig, guiding him. After a minute or so of his tender nipping, I’m usually out of my mind already, but this morning I’m just not feeling it. I don’t know if it’s because I’m hung over or what, but the combination of his scratchy beard and the fake hair of the wig rubbing against my inner thighs bugs me.
I start to pull the wig off of him, but he puts his hand on top of mine to stop me. “Leave it on.”
“I can’t see what you’re doing and it’s annoying me.”
He takes his arms out from underneath my legs and gets up, sitting back on his heels. “You liked it last night.”
I sit up too, tucking my knees to my chest and pulling my t-shirt down over them. Suddenly, I really want that fucking wig off. And the dress. “Yeah well, that was last night when we were hammered. All this shit doesn’t make me so hot in the light of day.”
He’s out of my bed in a flash, ripping the dress off over his head. He throws it at me and then grabs a make-up remover wipe from my dresser, scrubbing furiously at his eyes. He throws that at me too. “There, do I look more like a man now?” he screams, his voice cracking.
I don’t know what to say. He stands there seething, on the verge of crying, just staring at me like I’ve betrayed him.
“You’re a cross dresser,” I say, letting it out on a breath.
He makes a sound somewhere between a sob and a groan and begins frantically looking around. He drags a pair of clean gray sweats from my laundry basket and tugs them on. They’re short on him, but fit well everywhere else. Same with the long sleeve t-shirt he puts on next. And then, oh God, he’s cramming his feet into my Chucks.
“You,” I start. “You fit in my clothes. Is that why you…did that make it easier for you to…”
“Yeah Dani, I’m with you for your wardrobe. Fuck.” Liam turns and runs out of my bedroom, slamming the door behind him.
I let him go.
I step out of the shower and don’t even bother to wipe the steam from the mirror above the sink while I brush my teeth. I don’t want to look at myself. I rinse my mouth, down a couple ibuprofen, and comb my hair straight back. I take my leopard print robe off of the hook on the wall and slip into it, my skin still damp. My body needs all of the moisture it can get at the moment.
I open the door, the cold air from the hall sending a shiver through my body, and trudge to the kitchen.
Elizabeth is standing in front of the coffee maker in her underwear and my Hello Kitty t-shirt, leaning forward against the counter top and staring at the machine as though she’s willing it to go faster.
“How can something as benign as Jell-O and vodka do so much damage?” she moans. “I feel like my brain is trying to get out through my eye sockets.”
“Sugar,” I say, reaching around her and taking two mugs from the hooks under the cabinets. Wine glasses, we have two. Coffee mugs, twelve.
“Yeah, sugar, two glugs of cream. Since when do you not remember how I like my coffee or have something bitchy to say about it?” She lays her head down on her forearms, giving up using her wishful telekinesis.
I take the cream out of the fridge and get the stash of stolen sugar packets from the tea tin on top. “No, sugar is why the Jell-O and vodka combo is killing us. And I will never miss an opportunity to give you shit about how you take your coffee.” I dump a sugar packet into the blue mug and pour two glugs of cream in. The coffee maker finally stops pissing into the pot.
Elizabeth grabs the carafe and splashes coffee into both of our mugs while I put the cream away. She hands me the orange mug. We both take a long sip and then sit down at the kitchen table.
She cracks her neck from side to side and then reaches across the table and puts her hand on mine. “Our walls are thin,” is all she says.
“Sorry, I guess we got kind of crazy last night.” I blush as flashes of Liam and I eating each other alive on my bed, against the wall, on the floor, pop into my brain.
“I’m not talking about the marathon banging. More power to you. I’m talking about the fight you had this morning and Liam’s subsequent fleeing from our house in your clothes.”
I let out a long breath. “You heard everything.”
She nods. “It was muffled, but I got the gist.” She takes a drink and then sighs. “So, what are you going to do?”
My eyes fill with tears. “I don’t know. So, he likes to dress up in women’s clothes? Maybe I can deal? He’s right – I certainly didn’t care last night, even got turned on by it, but that’s because I thought it was…out of our norm, not what he’s been wanting all along.” I put my head in my hands. “Why couldn’t he just be kind of pervy? Why couldn’t he have a thing for feet?”
“Hey, you’re sharing shoes either way.”
“That’s the thing, isn’t it? There has to be some part of this that…he sought me out. I don’t know exactly what happened with Ari, but she must’ve questioned his manhood. And I’m this…hag who makes big speeches about how I accept everyone for what they are and I happen to be more his size, more open to letting him control things. Whether he knows he was doing it or not, I know part of him chose me…because I’m me. I’m the girl this happens to and is okay with it.”
“But you don’t seem like you are.”
“Because I’m pissed that I have to be that girl! That I’m still her. Ariana is beautiful and thin and can go out and fuck any guy she wants. Any normal guy who isn’t eyeing her underwear and wondering how he’d look in it. This wouldn’t happen to you either, Elizabeth.”
She gets up and grabs the coffee pot, pouring us both fresh mugs, and then doctors hers accordingly. “You’re right. This wouldn’t happen to me. I’ve got my nice, normal long distance thing going on. Never in a million years would I be the kind of woman that a guy like Liam needs. But, I don’t think it’s bad that you are. If there’s someone for everyone…you already love him, I know you do. And I think he probably loves you too. He’d be an idiot not to.”
“Thanks, but you didn’t see him. He looked so broken--”
“Stop making excuses for why you can’t let yourself have this. It’s not conventional, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t real. What’s more important? Loving the man that loves you, or trying to achieve this bullshit idea you have of what a perfect relationship is supposed to be?”
X
I borrow Elizabeth’s car and drive over to Liam’s, parking at the end of the block just in case he sees me and decides to take off running. Or maybe just to give myself a little more time to get my words together. I don’t really have any prepared speeches in my repertoire for this sort of thing. Sure, I have an
It’s Awesome That You’ve Decided to Come Out to Me First
speech, and the
Oh, I Totally Understand About You Thinking You Were Ready to Date and Changing Your Mind After One Night With Me
. I could do that one in my sleep, and have. But,
I’m Fine With You Wearing the Skirt in Our Relationship
is a new one on so many levels.
When I get to the bottom of the staircase that leads up to his apartment, I take a deep breath and make myself run up the steps. And then I force myself to knock on his door. Half of the things I’ve accomplished in life are due to my moving quickly to keep from chickening out.
Liam opens the door, fresh from the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist. Thank karma for at least letting me have this. If I was going to only get one last look, this was the look to get. I step forward, placing my palm on his bare chest, and nudge him into the room. I turn and close the door behind me before facing him. “I’m an asshole.”
He holds my hand to his chest. His heart is beating so fast. “No, you’re not. I…should’ve eased you into this. I just got so excited when you—” He grins. “You were crazy last night and I’ve been thinking about being crazy like that with you since the first night we were together. But, I know your defenses were down.”
“No more tequila or Jell-O shots,” I joke. “We’re becoming strictly beer and wine drinkers.”
He inhales a deep breath and then lets it out. “Fine by me. I feel like ass.”
I give him a once over. “Well, you don’t look like ass. You’re just as fucking beautiful as always. Dick.”
He grins and drops the towel.
One, two, three go! Chickening out is not an option!
I walk past him, running my hand over his abs as I go by. “I wanna play dress up.”
“Dani, you don’t have—”
I stand in front of his closet and open the door. “It’s decided.” I reach forward and pull the light cord, peering inside. The front is full of his regular clothes, all neatly hung on wooden hangers. His shoes are lined up on the floor on the left side, and a three-drawer dresser sits on the right. At the back I see the sweater that was in the bag Ariana gave him. It’s hanging next to a couple of different styles of black skirts. He’s got a definite Ed Wood thing going on. Very proper Fifties co-ed. Kind of like how I dress. I take a deep green sweater off its hanger and one of the black skirts. On a whim, I open the top drawer of the dresser and paw around underneath his socks and boxer briefs until my fingers light on Liam’s very own set of garters and stockings. I pull those out and then go back in and hunt for some undies. He’s got a lone black lace pair.
I take my haul over to him. He’s still standing naked in the middle of the room just watching me. “Bathroom,” I say, directing him with a nod.
Liam obeys.
I set the clothes down on the vanity and move him over to the rug in front of the claw foot tub. I put the underwear on him first, kneeling down. He steps into it and I pull it up, tugging at it to get it to cover his crotch. “Kind of hard to keep that bad boy reined in,” I tease.
Liam doesn’t say anything, his breaths increasing.
“So, why only the one pair of underwear?” I ask.
He answers me quickly. “Those were the most difficult for me to come to terms with buying.”
“Arms up,” I say, sliding the sweater on over his head and down his chest. “Like, you can justify that you’re buying a skirt ‘only for Halloween this one time’?”
“Yeah, exactly.”
I hook the garter belt around his hips, again adjusting for, uh, width and bulge before I’m down on my knees again, pulling the stockings up each leg and clipping them to the belt. “Sorry I can’t do this with my teeth…yet.”
He inhales sharply. “Don’t even play.”
I hold out the skirt for him to step into and then zip it up the side. I lean back to take a look. He looks exactly like a guy in women’s clothes. “Is the point to look more like a woman or is it all about the clothes for you?”
He chuckles. “Thanks for not asking if I’m gay, because I would hope by now I’ve proven that I’m not.” He fingers the hem of his skirt. “I like
dressing
this way. I like looking pretty, but I don’t want to cut off my dick or get breast implants or anything.”
“Do you have make-up, a wig?”
He opens a drawer in the vanity and right there next to the toothpaste is my Perfect Red lipstick, an eyeliner I’d been missing, a tube of mascara, the tat cover up, and the free gift from Sephora.
“I guess we always stay at my house, don’t we?”
He shrugs and then looks down. “I’ve been saving for a wig. Ima has the hook up, but good ones are hella expensive.”
“And shoes?”
His eyes light up. Liam runs to his closet and comes back with a simple pair of black patent leather pumps. He puts them on, making him another three inches taller than me.
I leave the toothpaste and stolen make-up drawer open and hop up onto the counter, pulling him in between my legs. I get the Perfect Red in hand and twist the lipstick up. Quite a bit of it is gone.
He licks his lips. “I’ve been practicing.”
“So you have.” My gaze falls to his lips. “Open your mouth like this.” I make an O.
He does it and I dab the lipstick on and then smooth it out with my ring finger. Next I pick up the eyeliner. “Look up,” I say. He does while pushing his pelvis into me. “Keep that up and you’re gonna lose an eye,” I breathe. I regain my composure and line his eyes. I give him a couple swipes of mascara and then get to work on his hair. Twisting around, I find an ancient bottle of gel in the medicine cabinet behind me. I squeeze a dime into my palm and rub my hands together. I run them through his still damp hair and then use a comb to slick it back like I did my own this morning.
“Is there anything else you’d usually do?” I ask, giving him a once over.
He grinds into me again. “Sometimes I wear this red bra and stuff it, but not always.” He kisses me tenderly. “Is that what you meant?”
I grip his hips with my thighs. “Yes and no. What’s…next?”
He takes my hand and lowers it between us. “You’re in charge. What do you want to do?”
Liam gives me one last kiss. “Call me, okay?” he says, picking up his duffel. “I miss you already.”
“I will and…me too.” I’m sorely regretting my decision to put a firm No Sex policy in place until I am ready to completely get on board with the cross dressing. It has been a difficult week and is only going to be more difficult for the next three of Winter break. Making mature decisions blows.
He turns and gets on the Greyhound to Boise. I wish I could stay and wave to him all dramatic-like as the bus pulls out of the parking lot, but I’ve got a plane to catch and Elizabeth is waiting to drive me to the Eugene airport.