Chapter 11: Odds and Ends

On my knees with my thighs spread as wide as those frilly French panties would allow. They'd been tugged downward, enough to expose my tight, round ass to Keith's urgent erection. My balls swung wildly back and forth, my supple, clean shaven scrotum meeting the larger, heavier and much more manly sack of my lover. My drooling cocky slapped my tummy with every rapid thrust. I gripped the headboard so tightly that my knuckles were turning white and the look on my face must have been one of unmistakable joy.

I still wore my maid uniform, but the stockings and heels, the lace and all that, only added to the wanton atmosphere. Keith held my hips, hunched over me like a dog as he pumped his over-sized cock into my boy pussy. I felt the blunt head of his penis kissing my prostate, pushing my button and making me yelp with desire. We were flushed and breathless and beautiful. We were fucking. Again. And I knew I'd hate myself for it later, but just then, with my orgasm only a heartbeat away, I simply didn't care.

As soon as he felt my body spasm around his cock, Keith pulled me upward. He jerked my fingers free and I turned my head all by myself. I let him find my mouth with his, kissing at the moment of truth. His cock pulsed sharply and the familiar warmth of Keith's orgasm flowed through me. The sensation seemed to radiate past my tummy and down my arms and legs so that I tingled everywhere. I couldn't help but smile, even laugh. The giddy high of sexual release is like the best drug in the world. I only wish it would last a little longer than it does, you know?

Keith collapsed on top of me, his much larger body covering mine. He kissed me through my hair before rolling over to lay on his back beside me. I felt the sudden emptiness as my cum-filled ass adjusted to his absence. Only his sperm remained. If only it was Dave's, I thought, I could have been so much happier just then. I'd cheated again. Moving out of the dorm hadn't changed a thing, not in my heart where it counted. I knew why I'd let Keith kiss me and make love to me, and it wasn't fair at all. After eighteen years of having nothing and no one except my dreams, I hadn't learned how not to fall in love.

I mean, that's gotta be the trick, right? Otherwise everybody would love everybody and that would be crazy! Anarchy! Civilizations would collapse if a girl could just love two hunky guys at the same, three if I counted Stu, and I couldn't forget about him. A real girl would know how to make a choice and live with it. I'd made my choice, but beyond that...

"Are you okay?" Keith whispered. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

He rubbed my back as I lay there on my tummy. I had my head turned the other way. My panties were still nearly to my knees, my bare naked butt exposed with Keith's cum leaking from my bruised anus. He'd been doing me hard at the end, but none of it had felt anything but wonderful. Whatever pain I might have suffered in the beginning had disappeared beneath his kisses. I hated that. It would have been so much better if it hurt like hell every time. Maybe I could say no to him then. Maybe.

"They didn't give me a new room mate yet," he said. "You could come back."

"I need a pill," I sighed.

"What?"

"I want to forget about you."

"Brandy ... Shhhh..." Keith rolled onto his side, trying to hug me, but I shook him off.

"Just go away," I told him. "Please? Just forget about me. Go back to Suzanne."

"You don't mean that," he whispered. "We're supposed to be together."

"Stop saying that," I practically shouted, finally turning to look at him. "God! You're like a broken record."

"But..."

"Maybe I'm supposed to be with Dave," I continued. "Did you ever think of that?"

"I love you, Brandy." That was his whole argument and it should have been enough.

It wasn't that hard to get angry with him. I wanted to, see? Maybe that's how girls do it and I was finally learning the secret. How to deal with love, step one: Get mad.

"Yeah, you love me," I snorted. "That's why you let Amber bring you here, huh? That's why you got naked for her, because you love me so much! You just wanted to fuck something..."

"What? No! Brandy, come on!"

" ... and now you did," I yelled. "So get your clothes and get out. Go! Get out of here!"

"Stop it!" he protested. "What's wrong with you?"

Keith tried to hold me, grabbing at my arms as I slapped his shoulders and pushed against his chest. I'd started crying and nearly fell off the bed as he crawled after me. I was breaking up with him. I mean, Keith wasn't my boyfriend, but we had a relationship, definitely, and I had to end it. Nobody had ever told me that breaking up could hurt so much.

"We can talk about it. Okay?" Keith stood near the bed, naked with his arms stretched towards me. He wanted to be calm and reasonable, and if I was determined to be angry, he was equally desperate not to lose me.

I'd backed away from him, into the corner between a high-boy dresser and one of the night stands. The guest room wasn't any bigger than the other bedrooms and just then it felt tiny. I wasn't frightened or anything. The idea that Keith could hurt me never entered my brain. No matter how hard I pushed him, my heart knew that the worst thing he might do would be to walk away.

He took a step towards me, his entire posture filled with concern. His eyes were soft and brown and longing. I loved him so much.

"Don't..." I reached for the night stand, opening the drawer. "You don't get it, do you?"

Keith stopped as a look of confusion passed over his handsome face.

"I nailed you," I told him, forcing myself to laugh. Probably my sniffling nose and wet cheeks didn't help, but the camera surprised him. "I'm a Pledge, remember? They told me I had to fuck you. I had to get your picture for the web page."

"What?" He half-smiled, watching as I fumbled with the camera. "I don't understand."

"Say cheese!" I took a picture of him. "Everybody's gonna know you got banged by a Lambda Pi girl. So get out of here now."

"We had sex just so you could take my picture?" Keith really did smile then. "I don't believe you."

"Sorry." I shrugged, wiping at my nose with the back of my hand like a little kid. "You're just a cock, that's all, and I fucked you."

He knew better than that, of course. A girl doesn't cry if the boy means nothing to her. All he had to do was look into my eyes to understand that everything I told him was a lie. But maybe that was enough, being lied to and seeing me hurt myself so much more than I could ever hurt him. Eventually a person, even a man, has to realize that you can't torture the one you love. That's what being with Keith was for me, torture, and if I refused to change my mind about Dave, Keith would have to love me enough to let me go. Or something like that.

"I'm sorry," he said, only that, and then he got dressed.

"So, where's the picture?" Amber wondered. "Don't tell me you deleted it."

I glared at her, wanting to slap the smile right off her face.

"Leave her alone, Amber," Mina sighed. "You shouldn't have brought him here in the first place. What's wrong with you?"

"You're okay," Marcy said, hugging me from behind as we sat on her bed. It must have been about 3am, but I think they were all a little wired from the party. I knew I was.

"Me? What did I do?" Amber rolled her eyes. "I thought you'd be happy to lay some of that pipe..." she gave me a catty grin " ... again."

"Just stay out of personal life," I told her. "It isn't funny."

"Whatever," she said, leaving the room with a dismissive wave of her hand. "You just need to grow up, Brandy."

"Don't worry about her," Marcy whispered. "You probably had to do it anyway. Right?"

"Amber's kind of a bitch sometimes," Mina said. "We'll deal with her."

"What do you mean?" I asked, not forgetting that she'd sent me up to the guest room with those stupid margaritas. Apparently, Mina hadn't known that Keith was waiting for me, however, and she felt a little used herself.

"No ex-boyfriends in the House," she explained. "It's one of the rules."

"The unwritten kind." Marcy giggled into my ear and her arms felt good around my tummy. I needed a hug.

"It's totally wrong and she knows it," Mina continued. "She'll say he wasn't really your boyfriend, blah blah blah, but Amber knows better."

"What will you do to her?" I wondered, but Mina only shrugged.

The Lambda Pi House worked on a sort of honor system, as it had to, I suppose. If someone broke the rules, the other girls would call a House Meeting and vote on how to deal with the problem. I didn't know all the details. Even though I lived in the House and had the same rights and responsibilities, I was still just a Pledge, so I wasn't yet quite as equal as the other girls.

Of course, the House rules and the system for enforcing them were different than the sorority rules. There was a Lambda Pi Disciplinary Committee that dealt with serious problems. I couldn't imagine what those might be, but it was all in my Pledge book anyway. Girls could be suspended or even kicked out of the sorority if the infraction was serious enough, but they could appeal to the Lambda Pi's National Council if they wanted and maybe get reinstated. That's the thing that kind of boggled my mind sometimes, that the Lambda Pi Society had thousands of members all over the country. It wasn't just the girls on this campus, but the ones at places like UCLA and Princeton and everywhere in between would also be my sisters.

And I was the only transgender Pledge in the long, illustrious history of Lambda Pi. They were going to rewrite the admission guidelines at the National Panhellenic Conference just for me, or so I'd heard. I wasn't sure I believed that, or the rumors that I'd been asked to join just to draw national attention to our small chapter. I didn't know how the politics worked, but I didn't think it would be that big of a deal. Who knows?

What I did know was that I sort of felt relieved now that I'd finally pushed Keith away. Marcy had been right about that, it had been an unpleasant, but necessary scene. Never mind the fact that it was all for show and Keith hadn't believed a word of what I'd said, at least now he knew how serious my feelings were. I'd kicked him out of my life and it felt like, I don't know ... Like I'd amputated a part of my soul.

"Love sucks," I decided, getting a knowing smile from Mina and a purr of agreement from Marcy. They were girls. They knew how it worked.

"You're tough," Marcy whispered. She kissed my cheek and let me go. "You have to be. You're dating the quarterback, right?"

"Yeah." I nodded, smiling. "I am."

"Get some sleep," Mina suggested. "Rush week starts right after the game tomorrow and since you're already a pledge..."

"What?" I let her take my hand, pulling me off Marcy's bed.

" ... you're going to be a busy little beaver," she finished with a grin. "Oh! I almost forgot. Vicky wants to see you."

"Who?"

"Vicky Sands," Mina said. "The dance coach. You want to be a cheerleader, don't you?"

"Uh..." I blinked at her.

"Sunday afternoon. Do you know where her office is?"

"I can show you," Marcy offered. "We'll get off campus afterwards. Hang out? Do a little shopping or something?"

"Sunday? Sure." I shrugged. "Yeah. That sounds like fun."

"Cool."

I went to bed wondering what I was supposed to tell this Vicky person. Cheerleading? Yeah, of course I'd always wanted to try it, but growing up as a boy had left me with absolutely no experience whatsoever. Except for dancing around in my bedroom, which hardly counts, I didn't have a clue. I just hoped my new friends wouldn't be terribly disappointed when their coach laughed me out of her office.

My housemates took off early, since they were all cheerleaders and the big game was starting at one o'clock. That was fine with me. I had to clean up after the party, but at least I got some help from a few of the girls who had crashed in the living room. That was kind of customary, you know, since we weren't running a hotel or anything. They probably felt a twinge of guilt anyway, waking up to find one poor Pledge cleaning that huge mansion all by herself.

Angie was a regular, sleeping on our sofa at least two or three nights a week, every week. She lived in one of the girl's dorms and apparently hated her room mate, so that probably explained it. She was a fairly average girl, not overly pretty or particularly bright, but friendly enough. I liked the way she seemed so utterly typical, you know? She struck me as very familiar, like the girls I'd known and envied back home, and so I always felt comfortable around her.

"Can I ask you something?" Angie wondered. We were doing the dishes, glasses mostly; she washed while I dried. "Why do you look like that?"

"Huh?" I narrowed my eyes. I looked like I always did, at the moment dressed in a t-shirt and cut-off shorts. There wasn't any reason to dress up, not for cleaning the house.

"I mean, why are you so..." she sighed, looking me up and down from less than two feet away.

"What?" I smiled self-consciously.

"Beautiful," Angie said. "You're not even a real girl and you look like that, and I just look like this, and..."

Her voice had taken on a sad, plaintive quality and I blinked at her as a moment of silence fell over us. I honestly didn't know what to say.

Angie seemed to be groping for words and after a half-dozen seconds she finally asked me, "How do you do that? Did you get plastic surgery or something?"

I had to laugh and she giggled, losing the self-pity with a shake of her head.

"That's pretty lame, huh?" she said. "Sorry. I'm gonna go live in Bulgaria now. You must think I'm an idiot."

"You're not an idiot," I told her. "I wonder the same thing. I didn't try to look like this. Well, except for my hair or whatever. But my body and the way I look? I didn't do anything, just like I didn't try to be a girl on the inside."

"It just happened?" Angie cocked an eyebrow, and maybe she had a reason to doubt what I said, but it was the truth.

"Yeah," I agreed. "It just happened."

"Well..." she sighed. "I wish it would just happen to me. I hate coming over here sometimes."

She didn't have to explain why. Angie had self-esteem issues and believe me, I knew about those. I'd grown up with no self-esteem whatsoever. Seriously. It wasn't until the day I'd stepped off the bus and introduced myself to the world as Brandy that I'd felt anything resembling pride. Of course, I had no way of helping the girl. My experience wasn't like Angie's, but I'd had those same feelings at being confronted by girls like Amber and Krystal, Veronica and the others. There's nothing worse than feeling inadequate.

Of course, the real issue for Angie wasn't my housemates. She was comparing herself to me and wondering how a boy could be prettier than most of the real girls on campus. Only God could answer that, however, and I was happy to drop the subject. I had enough problems without the absurd guilt of being too attractive. Don't hate me because I'm beautiful? Yeah right! Most of the time, like in the kitchen that morning, I didn't feel particularly pretty at all.

The night before, though ... Keith had made me feel beautiful. The way he'd looked at me. The way he'd kissed me. Yeah, that's when it happened. Love is what makes a girl beautiful, the rest is just window dressing.

I must have changed my clothes three times, but how was I supposed to know what to wear to a football game? I didn't even want to go, to tell the truth. What if Dave got hurt or something? I didn't want to see that! Football sort of scared me. The other team would have their own guys named Mouse, right? Big, huge guys who only wanted to kill the quarterback. Why couldn't he play tennis or something?

"Shoot!" I frowned at my reflection and took everything off again, even my bra and panties. I wasn't going out for dinner and dancing. It was a stupid football game.

Jeans and a Lions jersey, a real one that Dave had worn the year before. It still had grass stains, for crying out loud. He'd given to me as proof of his undying love. Football players. Sheesh! I had to smile anyway. I liked his old jersey a lot, even if it hung down to my knees. I was going to look so stupid wearing it. Why hadn't he bought me a new one, size small?

"Because this one was his, stupid." I tended to talk to myself when I got stressed and clock was driving me crazy. I'd spent too much time cleaning and changing clothes, and the game was going to start in half an hour. "Arrgh!"

I had to brush my hair again, before deciding to put it in a ponytail. That made me look sort of gay though, so I had to brush it out again. Loose blonde hair falling around my shoulders. Yeah. Lipstick. Eye shadow. Mascara. What was I doing? It was just a football game! Where did I put my shoes? My pink Sketchers were missing, until I looked under my bed. Stupid shoes. Maybe I should wear heels. What if someone stepped on my toes? I wasted ten minutes and I knew why -- I was frightened.

Dave Deere, one of the best football players in the entire country, had a transgender girlfriend. There would be thousands of people at the stadium. The game was being televised, and not just locally, but everywhere west of the Rocky Mountains. Heck, with satellite, people in New York would be watching it, live and in color. What if a camera spotted me? The announcer might say, " ... and there's Dave Deere's queer girlfriend cheering him on. It's hard to believe she's really a boy underneath all that blonde hair!"

This was a mistake. I didn't want to hurt Dave that way. He could end up on a Wheatie's box someday, but not if people thought he was gay! Faggots don't play in the NFL and that's what people would think. It was one thing for us to be together in the relative privacy of his bedroom, but we were talking about a stadium. I didn't care what they said about me, but Dave ... He couldn't love me that much, could he? I mean, one of us had to be realistic about the situation.

I'd watch the game downstairs, I decided, on the big screen television. Dave probably wouldn't even notice. Like, he had to be pretty busy, right? Nobody would miss me and...

ring-ring ... ring-ring ... I stared at my celphone. Only one person knew that number.

"Dave?"

"Hey, baby. Where are you?" he asked, and I winced at the noise he had to try and talk over.

"I'm still getting dressed," I told him, since that was sorta true. "Where are you?"

"Where do you think?" Dave laughed. "I'm getting warmed up."

"You're gonna play football with a phone in your pocket?"

"No pockets!" he said. "I borrowed this one from Hector."

"Who's Hector?" I wondered.

"Hey, I gotta go, baby. Hurry up and get down here. I need you," he said. "Go to Gate Three, like I told you, okay? They've got a ticket waiting for you."

"But..."

"I love you, Brandy."

"Yeah," I said. "I love you, too."

He'd hung up quickly and I stared at my phone. Dave was on the field, surrounded by a zillion screaming fans, the marching band, and cameras, and guys selling hot dogs, and he'd borrowed a phone to call me? He was supposed to be thinking about football, not his girlfriend! That idiot! What if he was too busy looking around for me to notice the linebacker trying to take his head off? He could get killed out there!

Now I had no choice but to go, and anyway, I sorta liked the idea that Dave had called me ten minutes before kick-off. What a great boyfriend!

"Hey! Are you Brandy?"

"Yeah," I shouted back. "Excuse me. Sorry."

I had to shove my way past more than a few people to reach the turnstiles and it turned out that I didn't actually need a ticket at all. The man who'd yelled at me was waving from the other side. He turned out to be a cop, or at least a stadium security guy.

"It's alright," he said. "Let her through. That's Deere's girlfriend."