Advantage, Michelle

by Charlie for now

Copyright© 2018 by Charlie for now

Romantic Sex Story: Have you ever noticed that true trans girls are more effeminate and accepting of men's desires than genetic women? I have. This is a short story of adoration, of love and acceptance, of relationship building, and of a little lust, of course.

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Fa/Fa   Mult   Consensual   Romantic   TransGender   Polygamy/Polyamory   .

I had just been beaten terribly in court by a pretty attorney from the county prosecutor’s office. Seems that my client forgot to mention a couple of very important facts and hid them well from everyone except his ex-wife. She came out of the woodwork and blew him out of the water, much to the chagrin of the defense and the joy of the prosecution. After the recess to check on the validity of her accusations, the judge found my client guilty on a couple fraud charges and off he went. Not a thing I could do for him except lighten his wallet. I didn’t feel a bit sorry for him. All ill-gotten gains as far as I was concerned, but now a bit of them were mine.

In any case, she came over to the defense table to gloat.

“Well, Chuck, how’d you like that surprise ending?”

“Well, Michelle, not very much. That was quite a stupid move on his part. No way to mitigate that. You come over to rub it in?”

“NO! Not at all. I came over to make a peace offering. I’ll buy you dinner if you want to keep me company, or keep company with me at all. Over a steak, maybe?”

“Michelle, I’d love that, but you need to know, I don’t have very good luck being around women.”

“Chuck, I know. I know more than I should, actually. Chuck, can you try to call me Micky and help me see if we can be friends? Our paths have only crossed twice, and I don’t think there should be a problem with work. Heck, you went to school with Danny, and I’ve seen you talk to him in public, so it’s possible, isn’t it?”

“OK, Micky. It’s Charlie, then. Just Charlie, for now. If we’re going to be friends, we might as well leave this silly case behind us, change our names, and press on, then. Where are you taking me?”

“Someplace quiet. I’ve been stalking you, and now that I have you cornered, I need to ask you a few questions.”

“Stalking me, counselor? That sounds a tad wrong. Wrong sounds about right. Nefarious, illegal, naughty, and any other sundry number of things could fit as well.”

“It’s not that bad. Gloria Johnson over in the City Attorney’s office was going to approach you if I didn’t. She’s a pretty lady, and certainly would’ve gotten your attention.”

“You’re every bit as good looking as Gloria is, Micky, and if I may be so bold, I have a thing for redheads.”

“Ooooh, so...”

“Yes, Micky. Advantage Michelle. Are you available now, or was this for a later tonight thing?”

“Actually, Charlie, if you’ll let me drop this box off at the office ... Never mind. I’ll lock it in my trunk for now. Follow me to Joey’s. Evening’s on me. It’s almost five somewhere.”

It was about four-thirty, so yeah, it was almost five somewhere. Out of the courtroom we walked, me right behind her, and I had to admit, the pencil skirt she was wearing over those four-inch pumps was creating a truly bonita vista. She was a looker, and a walker. Looking at her walking was entertaining. There was really nothing about this woman I thought of as less than outstanding, I just don’t approach women. Well, twice, but not seriously since, and the last four or five years, I have just been doing without. I married my high school sweetheart, only to lose her to a freak ‘robbery gone bad shooting’ in our local bank, and then about five years ago, my sensors were down, and a gold digging floozy snuck in on me. So, I don’t get out much anymore. Once bitten, twice shy, thrice ain’t happ’nin’?

I followed her car to Joey’s where we parked in the back of the parking lot, her in her little old Saturn Sky, a really cute thing, and me in my old Challenger, my knock around car. Out of our cars, she held her hand back for me to take it, so we could walk in together, evidently at her request, hand in hand. I gave her a questioning look but when she met that look with a stunning smile, I caved. Her hand felt good in mine. An electric connection like you read about in love stories. They found us a booth in the back, where we both removed our jackets and hung them on a hook on the wall. It was a pretty laid-back place, pricey, but very popular because of the food.

I’d never seen her without a suit jacket, that I remember. She said she’d seen me with Danny somewhere, but I don’t recall seeing her. I’d have to ask. Point was, without the jacket, my rating of outstanding rose closer to magnificent. I’m not a boob man. I’m a leg man. Hers, her breasts, were perfect for her size, though, and her fitted blouse accentuated her form. Perfectly. B plus, C minus, in any case, gorgeous on her, and I could tell she was wearing a lace balconette bra. Her blouse was just light enough to see the contrasts.

“Charlie, I want to talk for a bit, then I’ll let you leave. You want a drink?” The waitress was walking over.

“Crown rocks, please. Thank you.” I let her order the drinks and an appetizer of baked mushrooms, then the waitress left. “Micky, what do you mean, ‘then I’ll let you leave’?”

“Charlie, I’m going to be very open with you, because I have been watching you, asking about you, talking to mutual friends of ours, stalking you, if you will, and to be honest, I want to get to know you better. Much better. If it doesn’t work out the way I want, I’d still like to be friends. You are a very, very well-respected person. I admire everything I’ve heard about you so far, including the fact that you despise gold diggers. I’m not one. I have more money than you do, Charlie. Lots more, I think. I’ll tell you about it someday, but trust me, I’ll never ask you for a nickel. I may be in a position to loan you one, at some point, but never will I ask you for anything for its monetary value. OK?” I nodded.

“Charlie, do you have an open mind? Seriously. I’m going to tell you something in a minute that will cause you to not want to be with me, or allow us to get to know each other, but I just need to know if you can keep an open mind or if...”

I held my hand up. “STOP! This is the ‘I was born a boy’ talk, right?” She nodded. “I never in my wildest effing dreams thought this would ever happen to me. Can I ask questions now? I have an open mind, but there are lines I won’t cross.” She nodded again. “Do you still have it?” She nodded. “Do you still have them?” She shook her head. “How big is it?” She held up her index finger then put it between the fingers of her other hand, showing the end from the first joint up. Not much left. “When did you decide?”

“I was six when Mom finally realized I was her little girl. Daddy didn’t care for it, but when I was ten, she and a doctor entered me into a program at the University Medical Center for dysphoric children. Charlie, you haven’t walked out on me yet.”

“I don’t think I will. The down side is that I won’t be able to impress you with my riches. The up side is that I won’t have to impress you with my riches. I have one more question to find out if we’re at all compatible, then we’ll go from there.”

“I’m nervous. Very, very nervous,” she said, sitting up straight, defensively.

“Not my concern. YOU are the one who started this debacle. YOU can face the consequences. You ready?” She nodded, and yes, I could tell she was nervous. “Do you like to dance? Ballroom. Classics, the good kind. Not the bumping hips and grinding. I don’t twerk.”

She giggled. Covered her mouth and let out a “WHEW!” then, “Oh Lord, you sweet, sweet man. You had me a little afraid, there.” She put her head in her hands and sobbed a little. Changing sides of the booth, I snuck in next to her, put my arm around her and lifted her chin with my finger. I dabbed under her eyes with a napkin.

“I’m sorry, Micky. I didn’t mean to cause this. I was just joking around. Look. You’re a gorgeous woman. The fact that you’re rich, all on your own, means that you’re dating material. The rest is a no brainer, for now. Let’s just get to know each other. Well, let me get to know you. You obviously know more about me than you should, under appropriate circumstance, in any case. I mean, well, I don’t stalk much, so I don’t know what you know. You know?” She giggled and nodded. “You have a cute giggle for an old lady. I’ve never been with a woman as old as you. How old are you anyway? Twenty-three? Four?”

“I’m twenty-eight, Charlie. I’m only five years younger than you.”

“I know, but I haven’t dated since I was your age and she was quite a bit younger. I’m just saying you’re the oldest woman I’ve dated. I don’t mean anything by it. Just teasing a little. Smile for me, Micky. I’m trying to get you to smile.” She did. She looked up at me, touched my cheek and told me she was OK, and I could go back to my drink. The mushrooms showed up and broke the silence.

“These are good.” I got bold and fed her one across the table. She smiled again.

“Thank you, Charlie. You really are a good guy, aren’t you?”

“I try. Now. About us. We need to set up two dates. One for dancing and the other for some out-doorsy thing. Fishing, maybe? You like fishing?”

“I’ll try it. I’ve never really been. I wasn’t a Daddy’s Girl. He didn’t really want me around him, actually. It was all Mom, all the time. I can cook, though, and clean up a storm. I’m very domestic. And mostly domesticated. Not too awfully wild. Charlie, I had exactly one boyfriend. It was in Law School, and it didn’t work out. He thought it might, but it turned out he was gay, and I was too much of a woman for him. Just saying.”

“Micky, where are you from? Which University was it, and, well, tell me everything. All of it. By the way, you have an enchanting voice and I love hearing you speak. Not to mention watching your face while you’re doing it. You’re quite beautiful. You know that, though. Come on, everything. I have nowhere to be until Monday morning.”

“Wow. OK, I am Michelle Veronica Simpson, heir to the Simpson lumber and farming fortunes. I have people running them for me, since all I’ve ever wanted to do was be a lawyer. I was born on May sixteenth twenty-eight years and ten months ago, or so. We’re from Portland, and it was there at the Portland Health and Science University that I was cared for so well. I was left without parents about ten years ago when their car didn’t stop at the bottom of a hill, and when it was found that the car was at fault, my father’s lawyer friend doubled our net worth. Four million recalls later, it shouldn’t happen again. OK. Law school. I’m a Duck, through and through, but Daddy always wanted me to finish law at Stanford like he did, so ... I did. The last two years there, third in my class. Almost as good as you, if I remember correctly. Second in your class, out of Harvard?” I nodded. “Anyway, I met that guy in Palo Alto, and it went nowhere. I’m a very inexperienced woman, Charlie. And a little fragile.

“My elementary days were broken up and followed by a few years at a private school, mostly from home, with all the medical goings on, then high school as Michelle, garnering Salutatorian. Always a bride’s maid, never the bride. Reclusive, at best, and afraid at worst, of being found out before I was ready, I stayed very much to myself. But, I was a girl, then a woman. I had a crush relationship with a woman, in school at Oregon. It lasted a few months, but she never returned the affection. That hurt. I wanted more. Well, as jumbled as that was, here I am. Any interest, at all?”

“Yes. Eat your steak,” I said as the waitress laid our plates down, queried if we needed anything else, and getting a negative response, departed, thankfully. “You are a beautiful woman, Micky. I’ve said that already. You are nice, intelligent, and may not be after my money. I see no down side here.”

“Thank you, Charlie. There is none. You eat. We’ll talk over a chocolate suicide.”

Our dinner was great. Joey’s had a couple of top notch chefs working. It was pricey, actually, for this burg, very pricey, but it was worth it. When dinner was over we moved to a table next door where a group would be playing some dancing music soon.

“Micky, thank you for agreeing to stick around for a bit and listen to some music with me.” I’d chosen a table way in the back of the hall, so we could talk as well as listen. The waitress brought our dessert over there, along with a couple of double Bailey’s over ice. “Please consider this. You mentioned being fragile. I have been hurt badly, twice. Once by fate, and once by a woman. If you dance with me, tonight, and promise not to purposefully hurt me, I would love to have this chance to get to know each other.”

“You have a deal. But no more chocolate suicides on our dates. Maybe diet Jell-O or something. I’m going to turn into a hippopotamus if I eat another one of these things. At least we’re sharing. That way I’ll be a small fat little hippo.” She giggled and got a laugh from me. “Oh, and I was going to ask, are we having ANOTHER dancing date, or is this one being extended in to one?”

“I hadn’t thought about that much, but I see it like this. You invited me out as a peace offering after whipping my ass in the courtroom today. If we cut a rug for a few turns tonight, that’s an extension of your good nature. I’d like to maybe go to LaVonn’s tomorrow night on our first real date. You know, not in work clothes? Maybe some prime rib, or whatever you might like, and dance some more? Michelle, would you accompany me for dinner and dancing tomorrow evening?”

“I would love that, Chuck. I would. What time would you be picking me up, sir?”

“Seven, my dear. Seven. Do you have an evening gown? If so, what color? I might want to choose my tie to match.”

“Kelly green. This is going to be fun.”

We danced. She was good. Very good. For someone who didn’t date, didn’t play well with others, and all that, this woman could move. She danced and moved smoothly, gracefully, and yes, elegantly.

“Micky, tell me about your dancing history. You’re not new to this.”

“Mom, and lessons. I love to dance. Always have. You’re good. I feel like a good dancer in your arms.”

“The feeling is mutual. Seriously. Advantage, Michelle.” She giggled at my comment. Did I mention she has a cute giggle?

She yawned. “Oh, Lord, Charlie, how rude of me. I’ve missed a little sleep, what with that case, and stalking the target of my newly directed affections. Please forgive me.”

“Not necessary. Let’s call it a night.” We walked to the table, hand in hand, still. Her hand felt good, and yes, it even felt like it belonged there. I finished my drink, she grabbed her purse and her jacket, handing it to me. I helped her into it as she smiled, then donned my own.

“Thank you. I’m looking forward to tomorrow evening, Charlie. I really am.”

“Me too, Micky. Me, too. You are a gem.”

We went to our cars and after she opened hers, she turned to me. “Thank you, again.” She reached for the lapels of my jacket and pulled me down to her. She kissed me. Softly. Gently. With nothing but closed lips, she gave me more of a kiss than I had gotten in ten years. Since Sandy was killed. I haven’t felt that kind of kiss in a long time. I wanted another. Thank God, she did too. We kissed again, this time with my arms around her, but still just her lips on mine, and a moan when I stroked her lower back.

“Yes, thank you, again.” She shook her head, hummed really loudly, cleared her throat, took a card out of her purse and put it in my shirt pocket under my jacket. “My address. Written on the back. The cell number is under it. I need to go. Quickly.” She gave me another peck on the lips, turned, got into her little sports car and showed me about ninety percent of her legs. Enough to know she was wearing pantyhose, and probably the sheer to waist kind. I didn’t see any change at all in the weave, and I know I almost saw the area where legs come to an end and other things begin.

As she pulled away, I realized I had just spent four hours NOT thinking about her being trans. Just a woman.

Advantage, Michelle.

I called her in the morning, ten-ish, figuring ten hours would be enough for anyone. She answered, brightly, so I guess I was right.

“Good morning, handsome.”

“Morning, beautiful.”

“If this is how we start our phone calls, I’m all in. Thank you again, Charlie, for last night. I hate to sound like a broken record, but I haven’t had that much fun ... In forever. No. Never, I don’t think. If I can convince you to stick around long enough to see if you can like me, it will surely have been worth it. I feel like a school girl right now.”

“Well, I’m feeling pretty good, too, however, you know my history, and about ten years ago, I was having this kind of fun with someone else. I don’t mean to be a downer about it, but my love for my wife was real and will always be with me. I hope that’s OK with you. We may have some exciting times, and ‘firsts’ for you, but ... Never mind.”

“Stop, Charlie. It’s fine. My mother wasn’t my father’s first. I know what life is about. I know. I would never expect to replace that relationship either. Supplement, hopefully, but not replace. In any case, don’t worry about that, and don’t worry about mentioning her with me. It’s fine. Now the other one, that’s a different story. I really DO want to replace her gold digging butt.”

“Good. That’s an honorable goal. She was ... Less than optimal, let’s say.”

“And so far, I’m ... Optimal?” She giggled.

“Yes. So far, you are optimal. But Micky, that’s really a good thing. Enough of the flattery. I will see you at seven. And, hon, thank YOU for last night. I had a great time, too. It’s been a long time for me, as well.”

“OK, Charlie. See you tonight. Think Kelly green.” Click. She ended the call. I was glad. I could have talked with her forever, and I needed to get some exercise and mow the yard. Not in that order.

I got the mower out and spent some time with earbuds, Holly Fields, and formerly tall grass. Not my favorite part of the weekend, not like mowing, but weed whacking came next, followed by the blower. Then, after lifting, walking, and riding on the gym equipment for about an hour, I went out back and jumped in the pool. Fifty laps later, I sat on the steps with my water, and thought. About Micky. About Michelle. Was I really OK with this or was this just my inclusive nature and when the time came to get intimate, I’d squick out and run? If I did that, someone, maybe two someones, would get hurt. So, I made a decision. Go slow and sure. Slow first, then sure, if it came to that.

Our first date date, the real date, was a glowing success. When I picked her up, though, I showed my weakness for redheads, stockings, high heels, and beautiful women. She was in emeralds. Gold, emeralds, Kelly green, teak, and more Kelly green. Her four-inch peep toe sling back satin high heeled shoes were dyed to match her chiffon and sequin split skirt gown. Both were made with the colors of her emeralds in mind. The gold in her jewelry and the gold trim on the dress and shoes were nothing short of exclamation points. ‘Look at me. I’m with Gorgeous.’ That’s what her dress and shoes were saying.

I stood just outside her doorway, trying to maintain my composure. It wasn’t working. I had just been thrown into the visual range of the most beautiful creature I had ever spoken to, and I knew some very, very pretty models, professionally, but that’s for another time. Not now. I’m trying to breathe.

I am not chopped liver, or so I’ve been told. Twice voted most eligible bachelor in the state, as well as being on the cover of a couple local magazines for one thing or another, I have never had anyone put a bag over my head before I was taken out in public. But, I was in the presence of amazingly absolutely stunningly gorgeous beauty. At that point, I was thinking ‘I’m smitten.’

I looked at every inch of her, hair to heels, then she put her fingers under my chin, lifting to get me to look at her face and said, “Please, Charlie, come in. Thank you. I’ve never had such a compliment with nary a word spoken. Never. And coming from a real live hunk like you, I can only say I’m thrilled. Let me grab my clutch, and if you’re ready, we can go.”

I walked her out to the car and handed her in, being given a glimpse of her pretty legs. This time I got THE glimpse. The one she uses to make sure she has my attention. When a woman wants a man to really notice her, she’ll allow the glimpse of the stocking tops. Not the skin above them. Just the stocking tops. This time I was given that glimpse. Her long beautiful legs and the tops of her teak stockings. Stunning. The bare thigh above comes later in the courtship.

That’s also the way she communicates that she’s wearing sexy lingerie, not work attire. Stockings are the sexiest things a woman can wear, bar none. My opinion. Pantyhose, just the opposite, unless of course they’re under something like hot pants, where they are needed, and desired, and admired, and I was doing everything I could at that point to keep my mind off her legs, and that beautiful green shiny gown, and those heels and ... Did I mention her legs?

When we got to LaVonn’s, I got out, hit the unlock button, handed the valet the key, and went around to retrieve her. She gave me the glimpse again, as she exited my Porsche Panamera Executive Turbo. I don’t indulge myself often but that was one of my indulgences. I deserve one every now and then. Hell, I mowed my own lawn. I could have a nice car if I wanted one.

I walked her into the club, catching the eyes of nearly everyone as we approached. She was that pretty, let me tell you. We arrived at our table, the staff deferring, allowing me to seat her when I let them know I would. Both waiters left for our bread and water and such.

As I sat, I told her. “You, woman, are devastatingly gorgeous. I have no idea how I’m going to stay neutral or even mildly non-committal while you are carrying on and presenting yourself like this.”

“So ... Thank you?”

“Advantage, Michelle.”

She laughed. “Charlie, all I can say is I want to look good for you, and on your arm. I really do. Thank you so much for the compliment, but it’s just Micky here. I thought about you a lot today. What did you spend the day doing, if you don’t mind me asking? Don’t tell me anything personal that I shouldn’t know, just the simple stuff.”

“I mowed the lawn, whacked the weeds, worked out, and thought about tonight.”

“You did well. You look like a prince in that suit. Modern tux, whatever. That tie looks like it came on the hanger with this dress. Did you know my mother, Charlie?” She giggled. “This was hers. I love wearing her evening wear, her clothes. Keeps me close to her. Sorry. I’m rambling.”

“Ramble. You’re fun to listen to. No, I didn’t know her. I wish I had. I might have met her pretty little girl sooner. I have an emerald green set, a royal blue set, black, silver. It’s a thing. I’ll show you ... Never mind. That’s not a thought for dating.”

“What, Charlie, you can tell me? I’m not going to get silly on you.”

“There’s a place I can order ties and squares to match just about anything, and in so many materials and patterns it’s not funny. This was a close and lucky guess. This isn’t Kelly, it’s emerald. You know that, yet you didn’t mention it, because it wasn’t important. Advantage, Michelle. My point was that in three days, I could’ve had Kelly green with gold trim. That’s all. If you ever wear that dress again, I’ll be more ready. If you wear it for me, that is. I’m not going to dress up if you go out with some other lucky guy in it.” I smiled at her and got one back. She’s cute, too, when she smiles. Beautiful AND cute. That’s not really that common.

“So, if I snap chat my dress, three days in advance ... Oh, neat. You really are a prince.”

“Thanks, Micky.” The staff came with glasses, bread plates, bread, and on and on. It was a nice place, and they made you feel special. They were a close second tonight, though, because my date had me feeling even more special.

We ate, slowly, talked, a lot, working on getting to know each other, then when the tables were cleared, and after dinner drinks were on the way out, the band started. I stood, looked into her eyes, and held out my hand. Her eyes smiled as much as her lips did.

“I’d love to,” she told me and held on for three hours. She was a dream to dance with, and after one really memorable dance, with me exaggerating, and her keeping up without flaw, I dipped and kissed her. She ran her tongue over my lips. That, I think, was the electrical connection that did me in.

“Advantage, Michelle. Let me take you home, hon. It’s getting a little late.”

Each time she did something that made me think it would be her, over anyone else, including one Gloria Johnson, City Attorney, I found myself using the tennis term. Advantage, Michelle.

I put her in the car, no one else around, and got the next glimpse. It was a little early for me, but evidently, she’d made up her mind. She very, very carefully showed about two inches of her lightly tanned skin, above the tops of the teak colored stockings, then looked up at me and smiled. I did the only thing I could think of. I leaned down and kissed her. First on her lips, then on her nose. She reached out for my neck and pulled me back. A small kiss, touching her tongue to my lips again. Zing.

“Be good, Micky. You’re going to start a fire.” She giggled. Blazing inferno would be more like it.

“Charlie? Denny’s? Coffee? I’d like to talk for a few. Do you mind?”

“Neutral ground?”

“God, no. I make crappy coffee and I don’t want to impose.”

“Denny’s this time. My house next time, and yes, I have a guest room.”

“Deal.”

We got to Denny’s and were seated. I removed my tie. She said she thought I looked just as good without it. Nice thing for her to say. I don’t mind wearing it, I only wear comfortable clothes, even suits, but a drop of coffee on that silk, and I’d be on the web ordering another. This works fine.

“Charlie, how long do you think it will take before you’ll know if I’m worth more than a kiss? I hate to sound impatient, and even worse, slutty, but I’m madly in love with the man I’ve spent the last two evenings with. You see, like I said, I’ve been stalking you and falling in love farther every time some joe or ho said you did this well or were a standup guy about that. I’m going to try to be patient, but I want to hold you. Watch a movie in your arms. Does that sound too forward?”

“Tomorrow. Swim ... and Hallmark channel. I’m getting a Slam. Would you like to share it?”

“Absolutely. I could use a couple bites of pancake. Bacon and sausage?”

I smiled and nodded. “Advantage, Michelle.”

“You, sir, are a nut. Thank you for tonight. You’re a good dancer, and I just love to dance. It was fun. Tomorrow, that sounds fun, too. Especially the Hallmark Channel thing.” She giggled again. “I don’t want to scare you away, though. I don’t know you well enough to think about...” I interrupted her.

“I’ve spent about thirty seconds over two days with that thought, and I’ll tell you, right now, that’s not an issue. I want love. You want love. You seem to think it’s me. I’m happy for that. It makes me feel pretty good, and so far, all systems are go. Optimal. But, Micky, I’m going to need time. Not years. Just a little while. I’ve avoided contact with the fairer sex, of which you ARE a member, for some time. There was a reason. I don’t trust women too much, and you are falling out of that category quickly. Not the women, but the women I don’t trust. I had other dates before the gold digger. Lots of them. A couple casual ones after. It never would work. For some reason, they tended to get tired of me pretty quickly. I haven’t ... I haven’t really tried...” She interrupted me.

“They were too young. You are an old soul. You dance. You court. You react to my teases. We communicate. I’m older than I look or my chronological existence. Charlie, excuse me for being brash, but I don’t want to take you home and fuck you. I want to take you home and love you. Hold you. Cook for you. Fix you a drink. Let you see that I can make you smile. I want to be that for you. I think I ... I’m pretty sure I ... Charlie, I love you. I just know I do. If I have to do that from afar, I probably still will, as a friend, but you are worth me putting it all out there and trying to make my case. I can be what you want and need. I’ll raise your children. Oooops, maybe a little early for that one, but still, it’s out there.”

“Advantage, Michelle. Would you like to join me for breakfast in the morning?”

“Yes, Charlie, I’d like that.”

“Should I call you ... Or nudge you?”

She giggled. “The latter. Definitely the latter.”

“Drink your coffee and eat your pancake. Here. Extra slice of bacon. If you are that damned liberal about this, I propose to take you home to grab some things for tomorrow, change if you like, then let me take you to my place. Remember, I have a guest room. We’ll get up in the morning and have breakfast. I’ll show you how to make coffee. Good coffee. We can relax, swim, talk, watch a couple movies, just spend the day doing nothing. And, anything.”

“Thank you.” Her smile was heartwarming.

I took her home. She changed from the gown into a short slinky shirtdress and different heels, threw a few things into a small bag, and off we went. I noticed she was still wearing the stockings. Hmmm.

“I didn’t know you lived so far out, Charlie. This is nice. Quiet, too.” She looked up at the stars. Then out over the fields behind the house. The moon was casting a faint glow over the property. “Pretty.”

“Come, sweetie, I’ll show you around.” I took her hand and led her inside, then to the guest room where we put her little bag in a chair. I showed her where the ensuite bathroom was. “If you need anything, I have a lot of stuff in here, just in case.”

She led after that, just looking and asking me about the kitchen. That’s right, I remembered, she said she liked to cook. Hmmmmm. Then the workout room, my gym. She commented in a positive way about everything, “Nice.” “Handy.” “Super.” “Oooh, pretty.”

I took her to the family room and to the bar. “Nightcap, sweetie?”

“With endearments? Hmmmm. I’ll have what you’re having, hon. Just a short one. You moved me around quite a bit tonight. I loved it though, Charlie, I really did. I hope it continues.”

I handed her a rocks glass with a shot of blue raspberry vodka over ice. “I want it to continue, too, sweetheart. There, I said it.”

“What changed, hon?”

“The kisses. After the dance and in the car. When your tongue touched my lips, sweetie, I felt the jolt. I felt something unnatural. Supernatural. Call it what you will. I felt the near future through those two kisses. Come. Sit with me.” I took her to the couch. Only the bar light was on, so it was dim and fairly romantic, I guess. I took her glass and set it with mine on the end table, then pulled her into my lap. Good time to explain how this works. I’m six foot, and about two hundred. She’s five-five, maybe, one twenty-ish. She fit in my lap like she was made there.

She took the opportunity of our first few seconds of true intimacy to crook her neck and kiss the underside of my chin. “This. This is what I was asking for. Thank you, you dear, sweet, caring, man.” Then she cried. “Finally. I finally get to feel what it’s like to be held by a real, live, good person.” A few more tears while I rocked her and gently held her head in my hand, petting her hair, her pushing her head back in to it softly. She just wanted to be loved.

“Advantage, Michelle. Baby, relax.” I reached down, grabbing some thigh covered in stockings and pulled her up and close in to me. Not expecting what came next, I heard her light purring and soft breath. She had fallen asleep. I waited a bit, then carried her to the guest room. I pulled off her heels, then lightly covered her with a sheet. Back in the family room, I poured the drinks together and sipped on them, walking and turning off most of the lights. I left one on in the kitchen that would light the center of the house, should she come out and not have her bearings. I checked on her again, pulling her hair away from her face, getting a little moan and a smile. I kissed her temple then went to bed.

I woke and looked at the clock when I felt movement. Three o’clock. She climbed in bed, laid on my chest, and started purring again. I whispered, “Advantage, Michelle.”

“Mmmmm.”

“Good night, gorgeous.”

“G’night, prince,” I think she mumbled, in her sleep.

I woke alone but laid there thinking about last night. All of it. I was happy with everything that had transpired. I looked up and she walked in. White and blue striped boy shorts with a red waistband and a cropped T-Shirt with some sexy saying on it. Her red hair was down and slightly mussed, but she had cleaned her makeup off and her face was clear, clean, and showcased her blue eyes. An absolute doll. Mine for the taking.

“Micky, come to me, please. Kiss me, please?”

“Yes, sir.” She did. This one was not a tongue on the lips. It was a real lovers’ kiss. We traded tongues. Felt each other’s mouths, loved our lips together. My hands roamed. Her legs, her bottom. I even reached up under the legs of her boy shorts for more skin. Her back. Lower back. Down in the waistband, looking for even more. I couldn’t stop at that point. She was mine. I was taking her. I reached down the front of her shorts. Her moan was unmistakable. Small nubbin. I cupped my hand over the whole area, then spread my fingers and let it through. It was still soft. My other hand reached around her and lifted the T. I broke the kiss and touched her neck with my lips, then moved down where they caught a nipple, gently, very gently biting, then a little sucking with my lips. I was rewarded. She didn’t mean to, I know, but she hunched her groin into my hand as I moved it and felt her moving as she emptied herself into my palm, my fingers rubbing underneath. She pulled my hand out and licked it clean. Then she put her hands on my face and kissed me.

“I’m yours, Charles Barron. Yours. I love you. Show me how to make coffee, then show me how to make you happy.”

She was impressed with its simplicity. The Bunn coffeemaker. A filter, two scoops of Folgers Classic, a pot of water in the top, replace the carafe, and drop the lid. Perfect coffee. Three hundred and sixty-five times a year. About every four years I forgot to put the pot back under and made a mess. But the rest of the time? Perfect coffee.

I made her some eggs as she made the toast. After that, we went back in the bedroom. She laid me back and pulled my boxers down and off. She pulled the cropped T up and off, shaking her red hair to behind her shoulders. Her breasts were perfect. I was right. She was between a B and a C and bought special half sized bras to treat them properly. Then she stood. Her balance was absolutely perfect as she removed the boy shorts, one leg at a time, then flung them into the bathroom. Beautiful. Light tan, red hair, thin waist, bubble butt, long legs, little clittie looking at me like I was Daddy, and a smile that lit up the room. She dropped to her knees between mine and asked what to do.

“Whatever your little heart desires. After what I just saw, it doesn’t matter, and I don’t think you could do it wrong, whatever IT is. Just love me, Micky. Just love me.”

She did. In spades. She held, petted, gripped, licked, bit, chewed, sucked, and swallowed, all very gently until I came in her mouth. She swallowed everything, what little there generally is when a guy comes, then crawled up on my chest and kissed me.

“Charlie, I love you. I really know I do. I want you happy. Please let me know when you think this will work.”

“Hallmark channel movie, ‘Royal Hearts’, then serious discussions about lengthy love affairs and who is making what for lunch.” She slapped me, then kissed me. I pulled her into the crook of my arm and just held her for a while. I knew I was in love. I knew it. She knew she was in love. What the hell? Make the best of it.

As our relationship grew, we started talking about children. She was talking to a friend in the medical research profession out in Palo Alto. Probably a friend from her school days, about splicing genes and DNA and all kinds of miracles happening in medicine and medical science these days. Twenty twenty-three had been a watershed year for the biological sciences. She was made an offer, if she would be interested, to attempt to cross her DNA with mine to create a child of ours in a surrogate mother. We discussed it, long and hard. Who would be the mother? Would it really be our child? There were questions, and there were answers. She would be the mother, I would be the father, and, yes, it would be our child. In every way.

We tabled the discussion while we each thought it over. Come to find out that she and Gloria Johnson were fairly good friends. It wasn’t so much a feud over me, as joking about whether Michelle could, or more realistically, would, pull it off or not. Gloria was supposedly the only other person around here that knew my girlfriend was a trans woman, and truly didn’t care. They were close.

Close enough that shortly after I asked Micky to marry me we had Gloria out to the house for dinner. The subject came up. The DNA splicing to make a baby, our baby, thing. Gloria was interested in making a deal, if Micky and I were serious. It made sense to talk about it, at least, but I didn’t know how to react, or how to proceed. Luckily, Micky took it out of my hands.

“Charlie, dear, you have asked me to marry you. I accepted. I’m wearing a ring that would sink most small boats. I will be your bride. You’ve also asked me to move into your home, and in so doing, I’ve put mine on the market, and am in the process of doing so. Moving and selling, that is. Please keep an open mind, kind of like last time, only different. Gloria, go ahead.”

“Chuck...” I interrupted.

“Charlie, Gloria. Just Charlie, for now.”

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