Chapter 3-1
791 Words
Chapter 3
“Why do you love women’s intimates so much?” asked Paul.
He was watching Rick stuff the fake plastic breasts he’d bought at a s*x shop the previous year into the cups of a silky, red bra.
“Are you kidding? Come over and check out these bras. They’re so soft and smooth, and they feel sensational against my skin.”
Paul picked up a silky nighty instead and rubbed it between his thumb and fingers.
“Wow, that is soft.”
Rick adjusted his breasts, turning slightly from one side to the other to see how they looked from different angles.
“See? See? I told you. That’s why I wear them. I feel so…sensual when I’m wearing women’s knickers and bras.”
“And what do the men you bring home think when they see the body of a bear in the undergarments of a female?”
Rick looked unimpressed with Paul’s description.
“They love it,” he said defiantly. “And even if they don’t, as soon as they see my sweet, little pink hole, they go wild for it.”
Paul pulled a face. “Ew! I do not want to think of your sweet, little pink anything.”
“Okay, Penelope Prude. Don’t think. Just talk. Tell me what’s troubling you.”
Paul began relating the events of the previous evening, although it was difficult to concentrate when Rick was dressing and undressing the whole time.
“Do you like this one?” said Rick. “I got it on eBay and I’m not sure it fits that well.”
Paul sighed. “It looks great. Now would you listen to what I’m telling you?”
“I am listening,” insisted Rick. “Women can do more than one thing at a time, you know?”
Paul sighed. “Newsflash, Richard. You are not a woman!”
Rick pushed a fake breast into the new bra he was trying on and shot Paul a dirty look. “Oh, so just because I’ve got a p***s I’m not a real woman!” he snapped. “Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”
“Anyway,” said Paul, rolling his eyes. “I actually did feel like a real woman. I can’t explain it and I’m not sure I want to know what happened, but I’d swear on a stack of Bibles that while I was kissing Calvin, I was transformed.”
“You know, I never knew that about you,” said Rick, pursing his lips. “Want to try on that silvery number over there on the bed?”
“No, I do not want to try anything on,” growled Paul.
“It’d suit you.”
“You’re missing the point. I do not want to be a woman. I never have. I’m a man. I like men. I’m just saying there’s no explanation for what happened to me.”
Rick, now wearing a red teddy and red stockings, grabbed his garter belt. “Has it happened since?”
“Since last night? Rick, I came straight here this morning. Do you think I dropped in on Calvin for a quick bit of slap and tickle on the way over?”
“Okay. Okay. Susannah Sarcastic. I meant maybe you had experienced something in bed last night or this morning while you were filing your talons.”
“The only time it happened was when I kissed Calvin.” Paul began shaking his head. “You know, this is mental. I think I’m going crazy. I’ve thought about it and thought about it till I’m blue in the face, and I can’t think of any logical explanation. I’m starting to think I made the whole thing up.”
Rick finished clipping his stockings to the garter belt. They looked like mohair stockings with all the hair sticking out through the netting.
“My advice is to forget about it. It might’ve just been nerves or the kegs of beer you were pouring down your gob. It mightn’t even happen again, and here you are, giving yourself high blood pressure, ulcers, and God knows what else over something that might have been a one-off.”
“You’re right,” said Paul. “You’re absolutely right. Part of me thinks it actually will happen again, but you’re right. No use wasting more time than I have over something that mightn’t happen again.”
Rick leaned down and hugged Paul.
“See? Aren’t you glad you visited Aunty Rick?”
“Always am, Aunty Rick.”
* * * *
When Paul arrived home from visiting Rick, there was a message on his machine from Calvin.
“Hi, Paul. I was wondering if you wanted to come over for dinner tonight. Nothing fancy, just some chicken and salad. Or if you wanted, I could crank up the barbecue. Let me know.”
Paul played the message a second time and considered whether or not he wanted to see Calvin two evenings in a row. There was a lot to consider. If Calvin had never had a gay relationship before, what were the chances these dates, if that’s what they were, would amount to anything? And if they weren’t dates, then what were Calvin’s intentions? And if he did go to Calvin’s house for dinner and things got a bit steamy, would he experience the same bizarre phenomena he’d experienced the night before?
He reached for the telephone, then retracted his hand. He reached for it a second time and retracted his hand once again. Finally, after realising if he was ever going to get answers to his questions, he’d have to see Calvin at least once more, he picked up the receiver and dialled.
“Hi, Calvin. It’s Paul. I’d love to come for dinner. What time?”
- Writer
