Transplanted Life
Wednesday, September 10, 2003
Can't sleep
Kurt picks me up, we go out to eat, we see "The Producers", blah, blah, blah. It's fun, and I'm really getting into being the girl on these dates. He hasn't said he loves me yet, so right now we're just in the fun, carefree part of dating.

The show was good, and I didn't mind when he put his hand on my leg during it. Maybe it's my imagination, but this body's starting to have itches I can't scratch myself. It's probably psychological in some way, but just because it's in your mind doesn't make it any less real. I'm not really horny yet, but I can't help but think it's coming. I still can't imagine acting on that, though - the thought of having someone else inside me is just... Brrr!

Anyway, Kurt lives pretty close to the Theater District, and invited me up to his apartment for drinks after the show. I said yes, since I didn't feel like going home to an empty apartment just then. I also know that his roommate usually has pretty good bourbon on hand.

Fortunately, the guy is just heading for bed as we get in, and so doesn't see Kurt surreptitiously pour a couple drinks. I pretend to believe him when he says it's his. Anyway, they say alcohol loosens tongues, and pretty soon mine and Kurt's were in each other's mouths. I'm not sure who started it, and it really doesn't matter. I'm still in control, although his hands are wandering a lot more than mine. It's one thing for my body to respond when it's being touched by a man - that's kind of hard-wired - but I think it's going to take a little practice for me to really enjoy the feel of a man's body. But, after tonight, who knows?

It's not that Kurt didn't make me feel good - far from it! He didn't even argue when I said the skirt was staying on, but the blouse did come off, and he had just started kissing my breasts when his phone started ringing. He ignored it, saying the machine would get it, and that was fine with me.

But then, the machine did pick it up, and after hearing the outgoing message, it started recording. And the voice it started recording was my mother's.

"I don't want to worry you or anything," she said, "but I haven't heard from Martin in almost two months, and he's always been good about calling me Sundays. I'm probably just being silly, but you've been his best friend for so long, so I though perhaps you would know if something has happened to him?" Beep.

It didn't take Kurt long to sense that he no longer had much of my attention. He told me not to worry, but how could I not? I made him promise me that first thing tomorrow, he would try and track "this Martin guy" down. I'm sure it struck him as weird that I cared so much, but I couldn't help it. Maybe Michelle would actually respond to Kurt, even though she'd had "Michelle's" phone number blocked for a month and had probably stuck her email address into her spam filter.

It was a definite mood-killer, though. I just felt like a total heel - my mom was worried about her son, and here I was, making out with a guy - a guy! - like I didn't have a care in the world. It was like I'd abandoned my real life and it didn't matter who I hurt. I'd gone so far from who I was that I didn't find being attracted to a man repugnant. And I was angry at Michelle - I'd been a good little girl and carried on with her life right where she left off, but she didn't do so with mine. I don't know why I expected her to, but given how her letter had made a point of not letting people get suspicious, I'd just assumed. Ass-u-me. And I didn't really make much note of when Wei said she hadn't heard from "me" since the move.

And yet... In the back of my mind, the thought formed that this might open doors, too. If Michelle wasn't going to color within the lines, why should I? Not that she'd left me many lines to define her life, but I could be even less careful.

But not tonight - last night, now that I look at the clock. I just made some noises about it being late and came back here.

Comments: Post a Comment

Powered by Blogger

Note: This blog is a work of fantasy; all characters are either ficticious or used ficticiously. The author may be contacted at