Double Lives: CarlbyLadynStFreknBed©
***Special thanks to AsylumSeeker for editing this story!***
Carl dropped his briefcase inside the front door of his brownstone. On the way to his bedroom to change, he loosened his tie. He anxiously traded his Armani suit for jeans and a long-sleeved crew neck shirt he wore over a black t-shirt. Carl scrubbed his face at the bathroom sink. This had become a ritual for him as if it was an attempt to erase the public image he was forced to carry throughout the day and all the stress that this entailed.
Despite the perks and inflated self-esteem that public office afforded him, he had grown tired of maintaining the pristine image. Over the past few months, he had developed a secret life. Carl grabbed his leather jacket and fled his house.
He drove his luxury car to the nearby parking garage. After parking in the usual spot, he exited the vehicle and retrieved the motorcycle helmet from his trunk. Driving out of the garage on his motorcycle that had been parked in the next space, Carl tasted freedom as he exited the city.
By the time he reached his refuge, the lights of the motel were collecting moths. He signed in with his usual alias and paid cash for the weekend. His alias, "Greg Callahan", was the name of a childhood friend.
Once in his motel room, he peeled the crew neck shirt off the black t-shirt he was wearing. Flinging the crew neck on the back of the chair, he glanced in the mirror. He ran his hand through his brown hair wondering how much longer he could let it grow before it raised eyebrows among his constituents. He hoped this was a fictitious worry, but he knew he'd soon get a haircut rather than risk even the slightest chance of appearing incongruent with his political status. He knew public opinion could be trivially influenced, especially with the help of his opponents.
He grabbed his leather jacket and consciously left the helmet in the motel room. His destination was merely blocks away. The familiar neon glow in the window of the bar greeted him as he pulled into the parking lot. He revved the engine of the motorcycle before parking it as if to announce his arrival.
Soon after he entered the dimly lit rural bar, a petite woman approached him.
"Hi, Greg!" she said as she hugged him. "Your usual?"
Carl smiled and reciprocated the hug. "Sure thing, babe," he said. "Did Sarah come in yet?"
"Nah, not yet. She'll probably be in," the woman answered.
Carl sat at the bar as the woman busied herself getting his draft beer. It wasn't long before a tall, but thin woman entered the bar. Her deep red lipstick formed a smile as she spotted Carl. She flicked her long blonde hair from her face and slowly walked towards him as if she had been on a runway. Her black leather boots enticed Greg's stare up her shapely legs to the hem of her black miniskirt. She slid onto the barstool next to Carl.
Leaning close, she spoke softly. "Hi, baby. Did you miss me?" Sarah asked.
"Of course," he said with a flirty glint in his deep brown eyes. "May I buy you a drink?"
"Sure," she said.
Carl looked at the waitress and nodded. The waitress brought the Sarah's usual fuzzy naval.
The jukebox faithfully played a concoction of eighties rock and country music throughout the night. Carl and Sarah leaned in close as they joked and chatted against the noise of the pool table and often loud conversations between twenty-something locals. A man, who Carl recognized as a friend of Sarah's, staggered towards them.
"Hey, guys!" the man said in drunken volume and began to laugh.
"Hi, Tom," Sarah said.
"What's up?" Carl asked Tom.
"I...I..." Tom attempted to speak though each attempt was interrupted with his own laughter.
"He's a happy drunk, isn't he?" Carl said to Sarah.
"Maybe you better sit down," Sarah said as she walked over to Tom. She helped him sit at a table on the other side of the bar.
Carl wondered why Sarah struggled to walk him so far away while passing several empty seats. He figured that she didn't feel like being bothered with Tom's drunkenness tonight. When Sarah returned, Carl broached a common topic of discussion between them.
"When are you ever going to escort me back to the hotel? Every time I ask, you shoot me down. We've been meeting like this for months," Carl asked Sarah.
"Maybe I want to keep it that way," Sarah replied and looked away.
"That sounds like an insult to my sexual prowess. Do you think it would be that horrible if we slept together?"
Sarah laughed. "It's not you," she said. "So..." Sarah searched to change the subject. "How was your week?"
"Lonely," Carl said. Carl never mentioned anything about his life in the city to Sarah. He liked to keep his worlds completely separate.
Carl stroked Sarah's arm and cocked his head to the side as he looked at her face. Her complexion was slightly imperfect. What Carl assumed were a few old acne scars showed as tiny flaws through her heavy makeup. The way she wore her shimmering green eye shadow made Carl think she belonged in Vegas more than this sleepy, rural town. He thought her eyelashes must be fake, as long and thick as they were. Carl grimaced when his eyes followed the angles of her face to the dog collar-like necklace she always wore.
"Why do you always wear that collar? Do you belong to someone who I should be worried about?" Carl asked.
Sarah looked hurt. "Why? You don't like it?"
"No. It's not that. I was just curious if it had some special meaning to you."
"I just like it, okay?" Sarah replied.
"Yeah, sorry. I didn't mean nothing by it. You know, the least we could do is go back to my hotel room, get comfortable on the bed, and watch a movie or something."
"Or something? Don't you think I know what you're after?" Sarah smiled slyly.
"Honest. If you don't want to mess around, it's fine. Wouldn't it be nice to cuddle up on the bed and just hold each other while we watch a movie?"
"Yeah. It sure would," Sarah said with a sigh.
"Then let's get out of here."
"Oh, I don't know," Sarah said before taking another sip of her third drink.
"Sarah, are you scared of me?"
"No, I told you. It's not you."
"Well, I was serious when I said we don't have to do anything. I just want to relax and enjoy your company."
Sarah wanted to believe him so she reluctantly agreed to follow him to his motel. He held his motel door open for her.
"Oh, a real gentleman. Let's keep it that way," Sarah said as she entered his room.
"Okay, let's see what our movie choices are," Carl said.
He flipped through some channels and asked for Sarah's input. They settled on a romantic comedy. Sarah was lying rather stiffly on the bed. Carl lay next to her and pulled her closer to his body. As he wrapped his arms around her waist, she rested her hand on top of his.
Minutes later, Carl leaned close and kissed her. When he attempted to slide his hand downward from her waist to tease her, she held his hand. He continued to kiss her, then resumed holding her close. During the movie, he gently caressed her stomach as much as her grip on his hand would allow. He kissed her again. Their kisses became deeper and he managed to slide his hand down her lower stomach and towards her thigh. She was intensely focused on their passionate kisses. He slid his hand up her thigh and under her skirt. When he reached her panties, he felt a bulge of flesh that he was not expecting. He retracted his hand and stood from the bed.
"What?!" he yelled. "What?!" Carl was at a loss for words.
Sarah sat up and just looked at him. "I'm pre-op. I'm saving the money. Believe me, I'm as much of a woman as you have ever been with. We get along so well, and I wanted to tell you. Then, I thought maybe my friends at the bar told you. And, I mean, how do you tell someone you really like that you're technically still a man? Though I don't consider myself to be. I never have..."
"Oh, you're definitely still a man. I got that. I think you better go."
Sarah started to cry. "I'm still the same person."
"You're not who I thought you were. I think you better leave."
Sarah stood from the bed and stormed out of the room in tears. Carl locked the door and took a long, hot shower before going to bed. No matter how long he stayed in the shower, he could not wash the disgust and anxiety about what could have happened if he had been recognized while in the company of a tranny. The next morning he checked out early and rode his motorcycle through several small towns on the other side of the city.
As dusk approached, he pulled into the parking lot of a small hotel. He had passed a bar nearby. After he checked into the room, he got back on his motorcycle and drove to the bar. Once inside, he sat there and ordered a beer from the bartender.
A cute, petite blonde caught his eye. He smiled at her and she reciprocated. He picked up his beer and walked toward her. She was wearing a tight sweater and snug jeans. "No collar," he thought to himself. She continued to smile at him as he approached her. He introduced himself.
"Hi, I'm Greg."