Chapter 8: The Transition – Part II

Continuing the story of how I “transitioned,” from being an “observer” of Georgia’s new life with animal sex to being an active participant.

And if the going seems a little slow at first, remember ... most “real” people would not find themselves able to dive right into something like this. There’s a lot of internal dialog that goes on, as well as some very careful “mentoring” by the more experienced partner. But I think you’ll find that it’s worth the wait in order to understand how I came to find myself fucking Georgia furiously as she lay there on her back, her mouth open, right beneath the swollen, drippy cock of a young pit bull.

“James ... James, would you be willing... ?”

She foundered, hesitant about what she was going to say ... what she was going to ask.

“Let me try again ... would you want to come down for a weekend, to visit me ... and, well, to know ... about my life... ?”

That was the last thing Georgia asked me, on our trip to the airport.

How should – how can I answer this?

“I don’t know.”

Then I hastily added, “I mean, ... it’s a lot to think about.”

Then I added, “Of course, I have to talk with Lauren.”

Georgia seemed sort of...”deflated” is the only word I can think of.

“Of course, James, I understand. Your relationship with your daughter...”

And I cut her off.

“No, you know Lauren and I aren’t like that. I don’t need her permission to do anything, just like she doesn’t need mine to do anything. It’s just that I don’t want to end up where it feels like I’m doing something behind her back. That would kill us both.

“It’s just that talking with Lauren helps clarify things for me – it helps me understand things better, maybe explore possibilities – and outcomes. This is important, and I think I need Lauren’s thoughts about this.”

There, I said it. But there was more.

“How much can I tell her?”

“I’ve been asking myself that very same question, James. How much am I ready to share ... and how much others are ready to know, and I’m still trying to find an answer.

“I know you can’t lie to Lauren – that would destroy what you two have. I can’t lie to my granddaughter, either. If I ever did, our relationship would never be the same.”

“And... ?”

“And. I guess the conclusion I’m coming to is, yes, you can tell her. I don’t think we can conceal something ... this big from her. It wouldn’t be fair, and it would ruin us − all.

“So, I guess the question is – how much can you tell her, or should you tell her?”

“Georgia, here’s where I think I know Lauren. If you tell her – I mean, if we level with her, then she’ll respect your privacy. I don’t mean like keeping a secret – although you know she will. I think I mean that if you – if we – give her an honest description of the situation, even if we keep it kind of general, she’ll respect your privacy and won’t demand any more from us until you’re ready to give it.”

She thought over what I’d said, and it apparently struck her as right. But then she asked,

“So what is the correct amount to tell her?” She paused, “I’m going to have to trust you, James. You’ll have to decide how much to reveal, and how much to withhold – or defer.”

We didn’t talk much more as we pulled up to the “Departures” terminal. I turned on the flashers, opened the trunk, extracted her small suitcase and her smaller cosmetic case and set them on the curb, then helped her over to the Check-In area.

She said, “Thank you, James. I think you know how much this has meant to me.” I smiled and nodded. “Think about things, James – let me know just as soon as you know what you’re going to do.”

I kissed her, and I hugged her, and I began to feel the hurt I’ve come to feel whenever I have to say goodbye to Georgia. We exchanged final looks, and then I returned to the car (it hadn’t been towed!) and pulled out and headed for home.

She was right, of course. It’s all on me. Now all I have to do is figure out what the “right amount” is, and when – and how – to present it.

First things first: Was I even going?

Yes. There was no doubt. I have to go.

With Lauren’s extended absence, there’s a huge hole in my life. Since the third week she’s been gone, I’ve been adrift. Matt and Jane are wonderful friends and roommates – and sex partners. They’ve been – they are so good to me. But what they’ve been doing is making me a part of their lives. I don’t seem to have any life of my own.

Whereas Georgia has made an offer – she has invited me to join in her life, and make it as much of my life as I desire – or don’t desire.

So, yes, I was going to go. I had to find out.

As for Lauren...

This is clearly a case of “sooner is better than later.” I simply resolved to set my alarm for 6 A.M. – 8 P.M. in Taipei. Once I act on that, I knew I would know what to say.

You can imagine my ... agitation is probably the best word. First, Lauren and I are going to be together! Even if only telephonically. Lauren is my life, and any contact with her is life-giving for me.

Then, there’s the matter of my going to Houston – and why. I know, or at least I’m pretty sure, that Lauren will understand and support – both of us. But I was still not totally comfortable telling her that her grandmother likes fucking and sucking animals, in front of groups of people. How do you package that little tidbit of information? But I knew that Lauren would make it possible. I just knew.

I heard the few extra clicks when an international call sets up, then the “rings” (does any phone even ring anymore?), then the confident, balanced, “Hello?”

I said, “Hello, Princess.”

“Dad? Dad...”

... and my Princess started ... bawling is the only word I can think of. And of course, that got me started, and we cried to each other for nearly a minute.

“Dad, I’m so sorry ... I didn’t mean to ... I mean... , “

... and I understood – words weren’t necessary. But finally we got to the point where the happiness of connecting with each other kicked in. She told me about how good the her work was, and the challenging tasks, and how nice everyone at work was, and how Taipei is such a great city, and how the people there invited her to events and into their families, and ... it made me feel an enormous degree of relief that things were going so well for my beautiful daughter.

On the other hand, I had little new to tell her about my life. I told her that Jane and Matthew were fine – “it’s early here, so they’re not up yet” – and how much they miss her – and how good they are to me.

And then I had to tell her about the one new thing in my life, and it’s a biggie.

“Your grandmother was up here over the weekend. She had a ... she was here to visit...” − and I kind of ran out of evasions. So I thought I’d start another way.

“Lauren, Honey, remember how when you got back from Rome, and how your experiences in that ... why beat around the bush... that sex club left you confused and craving answers ... about yourself? And how Georgia somehow seemed to understand your feelings and what you needed to do to come to grips with them?”

“Of course I remember! I don’t think I could have made it without her. What I didn’t know was how she understood what I was feeling then, and how to find the answers to the questions I was having.”

“Well, that’s kinda what this is about. Remember, you and Jane told her about our experiences at that club in Kiev, and even pretty much admitted that you tried to have sex with that donkey, and how you and Jane ended up covered in donkey sperm and spent the rest of the night... ?

“Well, Georgia had some experiences like that, involving animals, before. Not a donkey, but a dog; and not in a club, but with some friends at their home. And those experiences affected her pretty powerfully...

“And that’s how she was able to understand what you were feeling after those nights at that club, and with your friends there.”

Even over the phone, I was able to sense the change in Lauren’s breathing, and in her pauses and her voice, and I knew that she kind of knew where this was headed.

“Anyhow, that feeling – those questions – never quite went away for her. And now she’s found some friends with trained dogs, and they get together regularly ... and she participates, I guess you’d say.”

And I waited for a reaction.

When I didn’t get one, I asked, “Lauren, Sweetheart, how do you feel about that – about what I just told you?”

There was a pause before she answered.

“I guess ‘stunned’ is the best word. I’m not angry or disgusted or anything. I guess I’m just trying to wrap my head around the image of Georgia and a dog.” She paused for a few seconds. “So what do they – what does she do? Like suck the dog’s cock and stuff.”

“Yes, ... and fuck, too.” I held my breath, waiting for the worst.

“I’m still trying to wrap my brain around this. But I remember Janey and me and the donkey, so maybe it’s not so far out.”

“I thought you might feel that way about it.” I paused again. “But there’s more.” When Lauren didn’t say anything, I went on. “They sometimes put on... ‘shows,’ I guess you’d call ‘em, for each other. And before you ask, yes, Georgia performs in some of these shows.”

Her curiosity got her connecting the dots. “Have you seen...”

No dodging this one. “Yes, when she first told me, she sent me some videos of these parties when she – and other people – did stuff with animals. Just dogs, though.”

“And you watched these videos?”

“Yes.”

“Well – how were they??”

“They were very exciting.”

“Exciting? I bet they were fuckin’ hot!”

Yes, my daughter had gotten the point.

“Yes, your grandmother is a beautiful and exciting woman, and she knows how to enjoy sex – any kind of sex, it seems – and how to work an audience.”

“Dad, why am I getting the feeling that that’s not the whole story?”

“You’re right, Darling, and that brings us to the point of why she came up this weekend.” I paused again, because what I was about to tell Lauren about her grandmother took things to a whole new level.

“It seems that there a some people – maybe a lot of people – who will pay a lot of money to see a beautiful, elegant, mature woman having sex with an animal.” I paused for a reaction, but Lauren was going to let me go on. “She came up here because she had an... ‘engagement,’ is what she called it, at a big home on the Eastern Shore.”

“Did you... ?”

“Yes, I went with her.”

“WELL??”

‘It was hot as hell. We tore each other up as soon as we got back home.

“Wow!”

“Yeah, wow.”

“So, one thing, Dad – “ (here it comes) “why are you telling me this now?”

“That’s the reason for my call, Sweetheart, or at least, my calling now. Georgia has invited me to come down soon for a weekend, so I can meet her friends and, I guess, so I can find out what her life is like.”

There was a pause as Lauren went through the possibilities.

“So, ... would you want to participate in that life, too?”

“I don’t know, Sweetheart. I guess that would be one of the reasons for the trip.”

I waited. There was nothing. So I continued.

“So, ... I wanted to know your thoughts ... on going ... and on what I might do once I’m there.”

“I think this falls into that category of ‘playing it by ear,’ Dad. So, when will you be going?” Not “when would you be going?” but “when will you be going?”

“Well, Georgia said that the weekend after this would be a good time. I think she said there was going to be a little get-together – not a big deal, something informal – that weekend, and that it would be a good opportunity to meet some friends – ‘in the life,’ I think is the way she put it. So, in answer to your question, maybe 10 days.”

“Do you think you’ll accept her invitation – go down, meet her friends and stuff?”

“Yes, I’m pretty sure I will – I’ll go.” I paused, waited. “Unless you can think of some reason that maybe I shouldn’t...”

“I can’t think of any reason why you shouldn’t go. It’s a big choice, though, but I guess you know that already, and that’s why we’re talking about it, huh?”

“Yes, Hon, that’s why we’re talking about it. First, I wanted you to know what was going on, and I wanted to hear your ideas about it.”

“Dad – are you nervous about it?”

“Yes, Honey, yes I am.”

“Well, I guess in one way, that’s good. This is kind of a big deal, and you might ... what’s the word ... encounter some things you never thought you’d encounter, so, yes, maybe a little nervousness is right.”

We talked some more. “Do Matt and Jane know any of the details about this? Like do they know why Georgia was up for the weekend, and the kind of thing that you went to, and stuff?

“No, Honey, and it’s tough. I think Georgia and I both wanted to protect her privacy until ... until we know more about what the future is going to bring, but I’m not feeling good about keeping this from them. Jane – you know how Jane is – she knows something’s up, but I’m pretty sure she has no idea what. But even if nothing comes out of this, I’m still going to have to tell them – explain about this weekend.”

Lauren switched gears. “Did Matthew and Georgia get to spend some time together?”

All of a sudden, I felt very happy. “Yes, Janey and I made sure of it.”

“Good. And Dad...”

“Yes?”

“Be sure that you spend some ‘quality time’ with Jane before you go. I know how much those times mean to both of you. To me and Matthew too. So, promise?”

“Yes, Sweetheart, I promise.”

“Dad, I miss you all so much. I don’t know how I’m going to make it for the next nine months.”

I heard her sniffle, and I wanted to end things on an upbeat note. “We’ll make it, Princess – we’ll all make it, and we’ll never let it happen again, right?”

“Right, Dad.” Then, “‘I love you’ doesn’t even come close, but it’s the best I’ve got for now. Please email me, and call me if anything come up, or changes, OK.”

“OK, Princess. ‘Bye.”

And I hung up, feeling both tremendously elated and at the same time, totally empty.

I phoned Georgia that night.

“Yes. Yes, I’ll come next weekend. I think I can get away from the office at noon on Friday and can arrange to get back Monday afternoon.” Still trying to think of details, “Any special clothes I should bring for the weekend?”

Georgia replied, “No, just casual clothes, and maybe some Levi’s if we do something active or outdoorsy. Oh, if you still have that blue robe you wore last Saturday...”

Yes, of course I “still” had that beautiful robe-dressing gown that she gave me all of three days ago. Also, the fact that she made that question / suggestion communicated something else. It made it clear that I was going to be someplace where that robe would be “necessary” apparel. So, yes, that was – is – on the agenda.

We made the final arrangements for meeting, and just before we rang off, Georgia said, “James, I don’t know if you can realize how much this means to me, and how relieved I am that you’ve decided to come. I know that we kind of had an ‘understanding,’ I guess you’d call it, last weekend, but I was still worried – I was scared – that you might have a change of heart and reconsidered ... reconsidered ... everything.”

I felt her anxiety.

“No, Georgia – no second thoughts, not a one of ‘em. I’ll see you Friday.”

And, as Lauren had suggested (actually, it was in no way a suggestion – it was a command performance), I spent my last evening at home with Jane.

Usually, when Janey and I get together like this after several weeks apart, I rape the living shit out of her. This time was no exception. And after these sessions, Jane isn’t the only one who is sore and bruised. Yet no matter how hard I try, I always end up with the feeling that Jane would have liked another ten percent from me.

[ By the way – if you’re curious about what goes on in one of these “special sessions” with Janey and me, you might want to read “Serendipity – Chapter 10: Georgia Stays a Little Longer” – ]

I won’t go into the boring details of the trip down to Houston. It was like any other plane trip, almost like a business trip. With one big difference, of course.

That difference met me in the Arrivals area. She lit up when she saw me. We moved toward each other and we hugged, as we always do. This time, though, she held onto me for maybe twenty seconds, almost like she was afraid to let go.

We walked to her car in the short-term parking garage, and on the half-hour drive to The Woodlands, she told me about our options for the weekend.

“I don’t have anything planned for tonight. I thought you just might want to relax from the trip, maybe even unwind from the work week. I didn’t want anything to take away from our time together, so I didn’t plan on cooking anything this evening.” (Oh, thank you, Lord!) “If we get hungry, we can go out and get something that suits our mood, or else we can order in.

As we drove, I noticed a feeling of comfort coming over me. I’m with this marvelous woman that I’ve known since I was 15 and she was Mrs. Genisi, my high school friend-later girlfriend-later wife’s mother, and all that time she has been a constant source of class and of kindness and, for a few magic months during the past year, a passionate, exciting lover. But that’s not the point. The point is, I’m with an old friend again, and it feels – well – good to be back with her.

“My friend Alyce” (she pronounced it “A-leese,” emphasis on the second syllable) “has invited a bunch of friends over for a...” − here she stumbled a bit − “a get-together. And, yes, she knows that you might be coming, and she wanted me to make sure you know that you’re welcome.”

So that was the first mention of what this particular weekend is really all about.

“But we can talk more about that when we get home. And look – here we are. I’ll unlock the door – you grab your suitcase and come on in.” My “suitcase” was just a standard overnight case, but Georgia is still old-school enough that every piece of luggage is a “suitcase.” Really, that little idiosyncrasy is one of the (many) things I love about her.

Turns out we were both pretty hungry by the time I got my “suitcase” unloaded and clothes in the closet and toiletries in the bathroom. We decided not to interrupt this evening by going out, so Georgia ordered some classy Italian take-away from La Taverna, and the delivery service had it here in less than 40 minutes. Georgia opened up a really good bottle of primitivo (Georgia, despite all her skills and talents, can’t cook worth a damn, but she sure can open a fine bottle of wine). She set out some candles, and we enjoyed a lovely Friday night dinner at home.

Savoring the last of the wine, we sat down, companionably close, on the sofa, and without putting things off any further, Georgia spoke first.

“I suppose you want to talk some more about this weekend, in particular, about tomorrow night at Alyce’s?” She phrased it as a question.

“Yeah, I think that’s probably a good idea, since that’s what’s most on my mind. If it’s OK, you explain things the way you think is best, and I’ll ask any questions as we go along, OK?”

“All right. First, this isn’t anything like the production you – we – went to when I was up with you two weekends ago. In fact, it’s not even as organized as the gatherings you saw on the videos I sent you. This is just a bunch of friends, with a common interest, getting together.”

I interrupted. My first. “How many people will be there tomorrow?”

“Maybe ten or so – Alyce said there were several people – a couple and a single – who weren’t sure they’d be able to come or not. So, ... about ten, give or take. Is that all right for you?”

I replied, “I think that’s a good size for me to begin with.” My thought was, small enough to be informal and casual, but not so small that I’ll stick out like a sore thumb if I chose not to participate – or stick out if I do choose to participate.

Georgia continued. “There’ll be Alyce and her partner Frieda, of course. And Lorraine and her daughter Cheryl and Cheryl’s husband Tom – I think you might remember them from two of the videos I sent? And another couple – I won’t burden you with names right now – and you and me, of course. And then there are the ones that Alyce said she didn’t know if they’d be able to come.”

Okay, that sounded reasonable. So I decided to go directly to the heart of the matter. “And I assume that there’ll be a dog... ?” and I didn’t know how to finish my question.

Georgia knew that we were getting into delicate territory here. She took a breath, then a long drink of her wine.

“Alyce and Frieda have a dog who... ‘participates,’ I guess you’d say. And she said that the other couple would be bringing their dog. She didn’t say what kind he is. And maybe there’ll be another one, too.”

She didn’t go into any more detail. Instead, she seemed to be waiting for me to form my own questions.

I already knew the answer, but I didn’t want to risk leaving anything to assumption.

“Will you be... , “ I wasn’t sure how to find a delicate way of asking this, but I think Georgia already knew what I was going to ask, “ ... doing things with a dog, or the dogs?”

She took another breath, and I could see that this was difficult for her – difficult, but necessary.

“Yes. Yes I will. I guess that’s the point of this weekend, isn’t it, James?”

Yes, that’s the point of this weekend. Of my coming down to be here this weekend. To actually watch Georgia – and her friends, too – have sex with animals, not as a “performance,” but for their own recreation – their own satisfaction. And I won’t be watching from a removed position, as a spectator, like I was two weeks ago. Even if I don’t touch an animal myself, I will be close enough that I’ll be a ... a participant.

“I guess you need to think about that, James – how you’ll feel, seeing me, not in a professional role, but doing it purely for my own ... stimulation.” The word “stimulation” put it all out there – they would be doing these things to stimulate. And not only their sexual parts, but perhaps even more, their minds.

“Maybe we should go to bed now, and we can talk about it more tomorrow, OK?”

Yes, OK.

We went to bed, together. Neither of us was interested in sex that night. First, of course, I was still a bit beaten up from last night’s session with Jane. Also, both of us were a little unsettled by what we had talked about earlier in the evening; and I think we wanted to save our emotional reserves for tomorrow, which promises to be demanding – for both of us.

Instead, we climbed into bed. Georgia gave me a gentle kiss on the lips, then turned out the light and curled up into my shoulder. I put my arm over her, and that way we both lay awake, thinking of what tomorrow might mean for us, for her and for me, until sleep finally came to us.

Saturday began like most Saturdays, for most people. It was wonderful waking up next to Georgia, of course (most people don’t get to say that), but then she got up to set out breakfast, leaving me there to contemplate the rest of the day.

It wasn’t until late in the morning that Georgia and I resumed our discussion where we’d left off last night.

“Have you thought of any more you want to know about tonight?”

I thought. And I thought. And I thought. And I realized – I didn’t have any more questions ... or else I had so many questions that I was afraid to ask.

“There’s one other thing, James.” She stopped, and she looked like she might be on the brink of an anxiety attack, or that if the wrong word was said, she would break into tears. Her voice almost a whisper, she finally said, “There’s one other thing. We don’t have to go tonight, James. If you don’t want to, we don’t have to go.”

I knew then that that would be the worst thing in the world. It would mean that I was rejecting her present life – and her. It would mean that I couldn’t approve of Lauren’s grandmother’s life.

And it would mean one other thing: that I had missed an opportunity to learn – about Georgia, but also about myself.

“No, Georgia, there’s no way that I wouldn’t go tonight. I came here for that reason. If I didn’t think I could do this, I never, ever would have let you ... never would have allowed you to believe that I would and then back out. So, ... yes – I want to know.”

I could physically feel her relief. But I felt that I needed to say more, perhaps to “prove” that I was committed.

“But maybe there are still some things I should work out before ... before. So, ... you’re definitely going to be doing ... things with the dog?”

“Or dogs – yes, James.”

I didn’t know whether it was out of line to ask, but I had to, at least to prepare myself so I wouldn’t turn into a jerk tonight.

“So, ... what kinds of things? Sucking their cock? Fucking... ?”

“Yes, I’ll probably suck their cocks and either let a dog fuck me, or else fuck myself on the dog.”

“And you might swallow? Or have them cum inside you?”

“Yes, James – both.”

Actually saying these things out loud, with the prospect of actually doing them in a matter of hours, I felt myself getting a little sick.

Also, hard.

And that brought me to the next matter.

“Will people expect me to participate? Will you want me to do things?”

She smiled, and she took my hand.

“James, you’re participating simply by being there.” But then she added, “On the other hand, if at some time – any time – you think you might want to do... , well, I think you’d be welcome to.”

“How about doing something with you while you... ?”

She smiled again and put her hand on my cheek and kissed me gently. “I think I might like that very much.” Then she added, “I think the other guests might like that, too.”

So there it was – I would have the real-life chance to act out the fantasies I’d had while Elaine and I were watching Georgia’s performance, the fantasies that had been running through my mind when Georgia and I were frantically fucking back at home.

“Georgia, I think that I’m OK. In fact, I think I’m looking forward to it.”

When it came time to drive to Alyce’s in one of the neighboring Villages, Georgia asked me to drive. Obviously, it would have been much more practical for her to drive, since she was infinitely more familiar with the winding streets that lead to Alyce’s house, but I think she wanted to accomplish something more than just getting us from here to there. I think that by having me drive, she was giving me a sense of control over what would be happening this evening. She is just so damned smart, and so damned sensitive to other’s needs – just like she’s been since I was 15.

And it worked. We pulled up next to the other cars in Alyce’s drive with me having a vague sense that, somehow, I had accomplished some feat of mastery – that I was in charge of what would happen to me this evening.

Alyce greeted us at the door, and I immediately recognized her as one of the “hostesses” (and one of the participants) in the videos Georgia had sent me. She was the slender woman in her late 30’s with the long dark hair gathered in a ponytail. In the video, she’d been wearing a bikini bottom without the top, but now she was wearing a loose shift that looked like it was made of crushed Indian cotton or something.

Alyce seemed genuinely pleased that I had come. Also, something in the way she greeted me seemed to communicate the regard she had for Georgia. She invited us in, and we were almost immediately me by another woman, Alyce’s age or perhaps a few years younger. “This is Frieda – welcome to our home!” a classy way of informing us – actually, informing me – that they were a couple without parading the word “partner.” I liked it.

Alyce and Frieda showed us around their lovely home, which somehow managed to look very stylish without screaming “interior designer.” I was starting to like these two people. Also, I was starting to feel comfortable, like no matter how this evening went as far as the “program,” I’d met two nice people whose company I could enoy.

After touring the house, Frieda excused herself to attend to drinks and Alyce led us to a large room that instantly seemed familiar to me. I turned to Georgia. “Is this the place where...”

... and before I could finish, Georgia said, “Yes, this is where the first video I sent you was taken.”

It was a large rec.room, arranged informally, kind of like it was in that first video. There was no “stage” or performance area, like there was in the third video, or like the house we went to on the Eastern Shore. Instead, in addition to some comfortable furniture, there were several large cushions on the floor toward the center of the room, and what might have been an inflatable mattress with some sort of cover thrown over it.