Chapter 5

In an attempt to follow Kim's advice, I tried to meet interesting people and form friendships. It was easy with the guys at work — they all liked to talk to me and tease me. I let them know I wouldn't settle for a quick roll in the hay, and I was looking for more than a one-night stand. The fear of commitment scared most of them away.

One of my neighbors to the east of me — there were eight other houses on my street — seemed a pleasant enough guy until I found out he was married. I was civil to him after that, but reduced my flirting to a minimum. Another neighbor, a woman about my age, saw me blowing my driveway clear of snow and asked if I could do hers. Diane was single and worked at a bank downtown. She was a brunette with sea-green eyes, a slim figure, was almost as tall as me and had a beautiful smile. I accepted a plate of delicious cookies in return for clearing her walkway. I figured a little goodwill couldn't hurt.

I didn't care for the sleazy guys that rented at the end of the block, but they didn't bother me and I didn't bother them. The biggest irritant from them was hearing loud-mufflered cars coming and going at all hours.

As Allan I'd seen some of my neighbors but had never had the time to meet them. Most had probably been in bed by the time I got home. After a little bit of interaction with the majority of them, I didn't find anyone who interested me for the long term.

Christmas was very festive around the neighborhood. The kids, about 7 or 8 of them, sledded down the hill at the back of Diane's place. I put up some lights around the eaves and hung a wreath on my door, and was delighted when the people in the neighborhood came to my door singing carols. I can't carry a tune, but I joined them for an hour or two, glad to be alive and happy.

A younger couple who were two houses west of me invited me to eat Christmas dinner at their house. Carl and Jennifer had 2 kids, a girl and a boy who were both toddlers. Jon and Angie were well-behaved at the table, and went to bed without a problem. Carl was tall and ruggedly handsome, and Jennifer was slightly-aged cheerleader cute. The conversation after the kids went to bed was full of hints and sexual innuendoes and I half-expected an offer of a threesome, but it was Jennifer who walked me to the door when the evening ended and told me she was 'available in the afternoons if I was interested'. I politely declined and put her in my mental 'not no, but hell no' file. I had no wish to get between two people who were falling out of love. I liked sex, but I didn't care to become a home-wrecker.

January dawned clear and cold and stayed that way. I did my job, stayed out of trouble and enjoyed Kim's attentions every other weekend. I had to wear a C cup bra now, and I was almost falling out of some of them. My labia had grown as well, and I used a panty liner every day to keep my underwear dry. I loved my inner lips peeking out of my crease. Tugging on them moved my clit hood, and that excited me. So did tight panties, snug jeans, and playing with them in the tub. Sexual release without shame was the name of the game, as taught by Kim. I was an avid pupil and a quick study.

I had been Jan about six months, and my body had changed. I'd lost the 'baby fat' that accompanied transition and was down to 124 pounds. My 36C-25-37 figure wasn't perfect, but it suited me to a T. My hair was the semi-curly type, easy to care for and style. A few strategically placed bobby pins and a scarf or headband and I was ready to go, but I liked it loose just as well. I'd learned how to do my nails, too, and a fresh color each week added to my sense of physical well-being.

My emotional state wasn't quite as good, but it was getting there. I was over the anxiety of dating a man —no rush for the sexual side of it because I had Kim — but I wanted to feel as if I were one half of a pair. I wanted a partner, a soul mate, someone I could share my deepest secrets with and not be laughed at or dismissed. Kim took care of my body; I wanted someone for my spirit.

I'd sent Amber a couple of hundred dollars for Christmas, and we e-mailed frequently. She seemed happy, but she wouldn't answer any direct questions about Jeanette. I had a hunch her mother was monitoring her computer, and Emily wouldn't let me speak to Amber if I called. It was frustrating, but I knew that the leash on Amber would slack off when she turned eighteen. I encouraged her to hang in there and not give up.

In February I got over four dozen Valentine's cards from guys I knew or worked with. Some also gave me flowers or candy, and one even gave me a bottle of perfume. Being noticed and appreciated is heady stuff, and I glowed with happy feelings. I didn't know it, but I was about to get a lot happier.

Shortly after Valentine's Day, I had to take some parts out to a road crew about twenty miles away. I took the big truck and picked up a differential and a pair of transmissions at Inland Truck Parts, our wholesale distributor. I was told to take Route 10 and look for a big blue building on my right just after crossing the Interstate. Half an hour later I found it without a problem. The sign said "Haskell Trucking Shop" in big black letters, so I parked outside and walked into the building. The foreman said he didn't have anything heavy enough to unload me at the moment — the transmissions had been loaded with a crane — and I'd have to wait for the boss to arrive.

I called the office and was told to wait, so I drove back up Route 10 to the diner and had brunch. It was only two miles, and no one had said his arrival was imminent. About forty-five minutes after leaving, I returned to a fuming mad foreman and his boss, the owner, Rick Haskell.

Swede, the foreman, started yelling at two guys near me, and one of them ran toward a mobile crane that was parked at the other end of the fenced lot. Rick stood there with his arms crossed, watching everything. He had a reserved look on his face, as if he were waiting to see what happened. The crane drove up and Rick took my arm and led me out of the way. That put me close to him, so I looked him over.

He was tall, just over my height, rather slim, had a very slight pot belly showing under his shirt, a nice tight pair of well-packed jeans — yes, he had a nice set of buns and an impressive package — and fairly wide shoulders. The jacket concealed his muscles, and he had kinda long hair, part of which was tied back in a ponytail. There were a few strands of grey in it. His face wasn't classically handsome; his once-broken nose aimed off to one side, and the small scar on his chin told me he'd fought for something or other once upon a time. His visage promised character and strength, and I had a few instantaneous erotic images in my head of his hands touching me ... all over. I flushed pink and avoided his eyes, pretending interest in the unloading.

As the first of the transmissions cleared the side of my truck, Rick asked, "Where did you go?"

"Down the road for something to eat," I replied.

"Didn't Swede tell you I was on my way?"

"No, he said I'd have to wait for you. He didn't say how long."

"Aahh," Rick smiled. "A failure to communicate."

I glared at him and said, "Not on my part!"

He laughed and said, "Let's go into the office and get the paperwork taken care of."

We went through the man-door of the building to an inner office and he sat behind a cluttered desk. I handed him the sheaf of papers in my hand and he glanced through them, signing each as he went. He opened a binder full of blue checks and started scribbling on one of them, and when he finished he tore it out and handed it to me.

"That ought to take care of the bill," he said.

I looked at the amount and saw $12,000.00, and my mouth flew open.

"I had no idea they were so expensive," I said, meaning the parts.

He dismissed the cost with a wave and a smile, and then asked, "Where are you having dinner tonight?"

Probably at home," I said. "I've got ham and bean soup working in my crock pot."

"How about having dinner with me instead?"

"I'm tempted, but I'm not supposed to date customers," I said. "I could get canned."

"I'm a one-time customer," Rick replied. "Inland was the only place in the whole state that had what I needed, and your place was the only one who would deliver. Unless you have dinner with me, you'll probably never see me again."

Deciding to go with it, I smiled and asked, "What should I wear?"

"Something casual and warm. I know a place that has home-style cookin'."

I went for broke and said, "Can you pick me up at my house?"

He nodded and smiled. I wrote my address on a piece of paper from his cluttered desk, and he glanced at it and folded it into a pocket as he walked me to my truck.

"I'll see you about seven?" he asked. I said, "Yup," started my vehicle and slowly drove out of his place of business. During the ride back to the office, I wondered how he'd made 'I'll see you at seven' sound like 'I want to suck your clit till you scream'.

He pulled up in front of my house at five till seven in an older Cadillac, and came to the door and knocked with a bouquet of wildflowers in his hand. His clothing choices matched mine — dressy jeans, warm shirts, Sorel snow boots, parkas and gloves. I doubted he was wearing the same type of underwear I was, but I giggled to myself and thought no one really knows about that stuff until the outer layers come off.