Dinner with friends, and a new face--tall, blonde and beautiful, with long golden tresses and a ready laugh. My lesbian side was enthralled. Yet, something was different. What shoulders! Later, outside the restaurant, I found her crying. She had been dumped, her guy leaving in his car with her suitcase. Poor Brogan had no place to stay. I invited her home, and that night I learned part of the truth. She’s in transition. Did I take advantage of a woman in distress? Sorry, I wasn’t raised that way. The next morning, though, was different. Brogan showed me all her secrets.
~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~
I showed her the bathroom and my spare bedroom. We sat on the couch drinking wine. Brogan made all the appreciative sounds a host likes to hear.
“I just need to make a call or two in the morning, and I’ll have the money to get me home,” she assured me. “I’m not really indigent. Just a minor liquidity issue.”
“This happens a lot, I think you said?”
“You’re a nice lady,” she said with an air of finality. “When I looked at you in the restaurant, you smiled.”
I made a look that I think said, “Big deal.”
“No, really. For someone like me, it doesn’t happen that often. Especially from women. I’m just finding out how competitive women are.”
“Sorry, Brogan, you lost me.” Well, not completely. But how does one politely inquire about a sudden guest’s unusual height, broad shoulders and, now that I’ve had a chance to see her up close, husky voice, narrow hips, large hands and feet, and muscular legs?
“I’m in transition.”
“We’re not talking Cleveland to Akron here, are we?”
“HRT. Excuse me, hormone replacement therapy. And, yes, this happens a lot. Usually, after Prince Charming stops behaving like a gentleman. I guess I’ve been having a run of bad luck.”
“Is that what happened tonight?”
“In the parking lot. In his car, thankfully. Usually, it’s more public.”
“You know why I smiled this evening, don’t you?”
She looked at me.
“You’re very pretty,” I said. “Your hair is gorgeous. You’re easy on the eyes, is what I’m trying to say.”
Her face relaxed. Like it was something she hadn’t heard very often.
Did I come on to her? A new-found girl in distress, rescued from the dark night, vulnerable and appreciative? Did I take advantage and whisk her to my bed?
No way. I just wasn’t brought up that way. Thought about it, though.
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by on October 01, 2016
- Boruma Publishing, LLC, September 2015
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