A Sissy's Tale

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Honesty is the best policy, especially in matters of love.
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There were two full armloads of stuff remaining, but he thought if he could position everything just right then he should be able to take it up in one final trip. He was successful in loading it, but now he couldn't shut the back hatch. Just then, a voice called out from behind him. "Hey. Hold on there, friend. Let me give you a hand." The mystery man took three books, a small lamp, and a large ledger marked "Programmer's Guide," then he closed the door.

"Thanks a lot," the first guy said. "My name is Gary Saito, but you can call me Bruce. People say I look like Bruce Lee."

"You do," the second said. "I'm Michael, by the way. Michael Koch. Spelled K-O-C-H but pronounced 'cook.' Where are you heading with these?"

"3-C," Bruce answered.

"Oh, okay. You're the new guy," Michael said as he followed Bruce up. "I live just down the hall from you in 3-F." As Bruce fit his key in the door, Michael asked, "What do you do for a living?"

"I'm the new program director at WRKX."

"That old elevator music station?" Michael asked as he took in Bruce's physical features. Bruce was, of course, Asian-American—his surname would suggest Japanese—and he was about six-one, two hundred pounds, and very handsome compared to Michael's five-nine, fair skin, bald head, and good looking in his own right.

"You mean that new heavy metal station," Bruce corrected. "New owner wants a complete overhaul. I ran one of his stations in California, so he tagged me to revamp this one."

"That's cool. Where do you want these?"

"On the floor somewhere. It doesn't matter. Furniture won't be here till tomorrow anyway."

"So, where are you sleeping?"

"I have a sleeping bag around here somewhere," Bruce told him.

"No, no. First night in town. I have a spare room you can use."

"There's no need—"

"There's no need to try to talk me out of it," Michael said. "You're staying. Now come on. Let's go grab a bite to eat, then we can come back and straighten up a bit."

"What do you do?" Bruce asked over a dinner of pizza and beer.

"I own a bookstore," Michael said. "Mostly older stuff, but I carry the occasional new copy if the

author is hot, and by hot, I mean a quick sale."

Back at Bruce's place, they made room for the impending arrival of sofa, love seat, recliner, coffee table, and end tables in the living room, and king-size bedroom set for his room. Once finished, he grabbed his toothbrush and a change of clothes, then it was off to Michael's. After each had showered, they had one final slice of pizza apiece with another beer each, talked, then both were off to bed.

Bruce was told that the movers would arrive somewhere between three-thirty and five-thirty. He was home at two-thirty just in case, and by the time Michael walked past Bruce's open door at six-thirty they still hadn't shown, "and I've called and left three messages."

"Bummer. I'm going to meet some friends. Want me to bring you back something to eat?"

"Thanks, but I'll just make myself a sandwich."

Michael left, but twenty minutes later he was right back at Bruce's apartment with Chinese take-out. "Don't worry. There's enough for us both."

"You didn't have to," Bruce said. "Besides, what about your friends?"

"I can always hang out with them. This? Camping in the barren wilderness? I wouldn't trade this for anything in the world."

They weren't ten minutes into their dinner when someone knocked. "Saito?"

"Yes!" Bruce said as he jumped up.

"Furniture's here," he said to Bruce, then he looked over his shoulder and said, "Alright, men. This is it." It took almost an hour to unload the truck. Once done, the head honcho said, "You know, it's customary to tip your movers."

"Well, maybe if you had gotten here on time we would," Michael jumped up and said. "Maybe if you would have answered your damned phone, we would. However, this is one tip you have fucked yourself out of, so don't let the door hit you where the Good Lord split you."

The man with Bruno etched across his filthy shirt huffed, but he left the premises.

"Now," Michael said with a smile. "Let's finish eating then get you squared away."

It had been about a month since Bruce moved in, and Michael knew his neighbor's schedule well. Bruce would leave for the radio station at five-thirty every morning and return generally between four-thirty and five-thirty every evening. Once gone, he would stay gone until he knocked off work.

One particular morning, however, Bruce had overslept. He walked out of his apartment at eight-forty and glanced toward Michael's apartment where he was greeted by the loveliest vision his eyes ever beheld. She had long, curly blonde hair, she wore a thin print dress with sunflowers on it, and she was, in a word, beautiful. She looked at Bruce, smiled, then closed the door.

All day long Bruce could not get this woman out of his head. She kind of looked like Michael, which meant they had to be related. Sister? Cousin? Surely not his mother. Regardless, he needed to know her availability. Finally, at two, he called Michael. "Hey, it's Bruce."

"Hey. What can I do for you?"

"There was a young lady in your apartment this morning. Long, blonde hair, very beautiful ... I was wondering who she is." Bruce waited for an answer, and waited, and waited ... After thirty seconds, he said, "Look, I'm not trying to be disrespectful. I just—"

"She's my sister," Michael said. "Micaela. My twin. She surprised me this morning with a visit."

"How long is she here, Michael? I'd like to ask her out, if you don't mind."

"Can you get away from work right now?" Michael asked.

"Uh, yeah."

"Meet me at Smitty's in fifteen minutes."

Bruce was already present when Michael arrived. He ordered them both a beer, then asked, "So, your sister? Are you one of those overprotective brothers who wouldn't want her dating someone like me?"

"Bruce, I have nothing but the utmost respect for you," Michael told him. "There's just ... It's difficult, to say the least."

"How so?" Bruce asked.

"Why are you pressing me on this so much?"

"I'm sorry, Michael," Bruce said sincerely. "If I had known this conversation would cause you any amount of distress, I never would have said anything."

Michael studied Bruce a few seconds, then said, "You're really attracted to her?"

"I am, though maybe not so much if she were bald like you."

Michael laughed. It was a bit forced, but Bruce didn't seem to pick up on it. He said, "Micaela has a lot going on in her life right now, Bruce, thus her reason for being here."

"Such as?"

"It's not my place to say, Bruce, and I hope you can understand the respect I'm showing her right now. I can tell you that she is mute. She can hear, but she just can't speak, so if you wish to converse with her, it would have to be through text messages, even if you and she were sitting on a sofa right next to each other."

"Will you let her know that I'm interested and give her my number?"

"I will, but I can't make any promises on her behalf."

A few days later, after closing his shop, Michael stopped by Bruce's. "Hey, I'm just seeing if she has contacted you yet?"

"No. Did she say she would, though?"

"She was definitely flattered," Michael said. "I'll bring it up tonight at dinner."

"Just make sure it sounds like you're asking for your own curiosity, not mine."

"Don't worry, pal. I know how the game is played." With that, Michael left for his apartment.

Ten-fifteen that night, Bruce received a text message that read, Hi. My name is Micaela. My brother said you were interested in meeting me.

Bruce read the text ten times over, not knowing how to respond. Finally, he wrote, I would like to get to know you. My name is Bruce. Maybe we can do lunch or grab a cup of coffee?

Coffee would be nice. I am busy tomorrow. How about Thursday?

Thursday is good. What time?

7:00? a.m./p.m.? Before Bruce could answer, he received, Michael says he'll be out late Thursday, so let's say p.m.?

Sounds good. I will text you as I leave my apartment.

Or just knock. Either way.

Bruce was antsy all day. The closer it got to seven, the more anxious he had become. He finally made it home and took his time getting ready. He had no idea what Micaela had in mind for this evening, but it was his intention to surpass her expectations. At seven sharp, he exited his apartment and texted her that he was on his way. Once there, he lightly tapped on the door. It opened, and there was the woman with whom he had become so enamored. He extended a hand and introduced himself. She took it lightly, curtsied the tiniest of bits, then texted, Finally we meet. Pleasure.

"May I," he asked. She waved him in, then toward a chair. "This place looks a little different from when I was last here. It may be the new décor." Bruce knew the line was cheesy even as he said it, but the smile on her face was worth it.

I bet you say that to all the mute girls you meet, she texted.

"I sure do. Thankfully, you're my first. Just imagine keeping track of something like that." Some silence, so Bruce said, "Have you given any thought to what you'd like to do this evening?" He noticed the door was still wide open.

I thought maybe stay here. I made dinner. Tacos. We could spend tonight just getting to know each other.

"Yeah. That's cool. Want me to close that door?"

She slashed her hand in the air. Bruce jumped. Sorry. Would prefer it open.

"Okay. No problem." More silence. "Do you need a hand with dinner?"

She shook her head to signify "No," then texted, Everything is ready, so whenever you are.

They each fixed a plate. Bruce had four tacos and two beers to Micaela's two tacos and two beers. They shared some tortilla chips and salsa, the whole while Bruce telling her his life story in thirty minutes. Afterwards, they loaded the dishwasher and then returned to the living room where Micaela texted out her own story.

I was born mute. I can make high-pitched sounds, but not enough to form words. I don't know if Michael told you, but he and I are twins. School was easy for me. Guess who rarely got called upon to answer questions—ha-ha. I've dated, but I still haven't found the love of my life. Michael says I can get a job at the bookstore if I plan on staying. I guess I'll see how things work out here before deciding.

"Why are you here?" Bruce asked her. When she did not readily reply, he said, "I apologize. That's too personal a question."

She stared at her phone for all of three minutes, then texted, I had a really nice time tonight. Maybe you can cook for me next time.

"Oh. Yes. Definitely. When?"

Saturday?

"No, I'm hosting the Southern Rock festival at Mackie Park Saturday. How about Sunday?"

What time?

"Five? Six?"

Six.

"Okay, then," Bruce said as he stood. He kissed her hand, then exited. She closed the door behind him, then smiled. She liked him a lot.

Friday morning Bruce ran into Michael as the former was heading to work. "Have you spoken to Micaela yet?"

"Actually, I'm just getting in, Bruce. Lucky night." He laughed.

"Find out what she thinks of me."

"Listen to you. You sound like a middle-schooler."

"That's how Micaela makes me feel." He checked his watch. "Gotta go. Text me."

At eight a.m., Michael sent the following text: Shes so N2 U. Looking 4ward 2 Sunday night. R U cooking 4 her? She is lactose intolerant.

Steak, fries, salad, Bruce texted in return.

Should B gud.

And that was the end of that conversation.

At noon, Bruce texted to Micaela, Thinking of you.

Immediately, he received Me 2 with a smiley attached. That was enough for now. He didn't want to seem pushy in any sort of way.

Dinner on Sunday went well—she had Bruce leave his door open the entirety of her visit—and they planned on dinner outside the apartments, in a legitimate restaurant, for Tuesday. Bruce had become completely enamored with Micaela, but he didn't dare speak his feelings for her. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin what seemed so perfectly right.

A few weeks had passed. They had gone out to dinner some more, to a couple of movies ... Everything seemed to be moving in a positive direction. One particular night they were watching a movie on HBO where a couple were talking about the three-date rule where after three dates, its acceptable to have sex. Bruce saw Micaela physically withdraw to herself when this had been mentioned. He didn't know what he could say to put her at ease. She texted, Is this the norm? People really have sex after just three dates?

"You see that I've never brought it up," Bruce said in answering her. "It's never been an issue of

contention for me. I respect you enough to not ask more than you are willing to give, and right now, I enjoy just spending time with you."

She looked him in the eyes, smiled, then slowly moved in and kissed him. When she pulled back, "Wow! That was worth the wait." She smiled again, then kissed him again. They made out for five minutes, then she moved a hand onto his cock, but Bruce stopped her. "Just be sure. No one is pressuring you."

She mouthed Thank you, then she unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. She pulled them down and lightly gasped at the nine-inch swollen thing before her. She took it into her mouth, then deep into her throat.

"Oh, damn!" Bruce moaned loudly. He hadn't jerked off over the past couple of weeks, so he had a mother lode of cum built up and was hypersensitive to boot. His head just lolled back and forth as this great and beautiful woman performed the best oral sex he had ever received. Five minutes in, and, "Oh, Micaela. You'd better move, honey. This is gonna be a big one." She kept going until, "Oh shit!" and then she did pull back, smiling as spurt after spurt painted Bruce's black T-shirt an off-white color. The look on her face was one of pure shock. Out of breath, Bruce said, "Heh, I told you."

She kissed his cock, then she ran her tongue across a stream of his cum and brought it into her mouth. She smacked her lips and nodded, then she licked another. "That is so fucking hot," Bruce told her. Soon, she had licked his T-shirt clean, then she began sucking his cock once again. He lay back and just let it happen, and twenty minutes later he erupted again, only this time in her mouth. He smiled at her. "You trying to make me fall in love with you? If you are, it's working."

She swallowed his semen, smiled, then kissed his cock a few more times before sitting up. I hope you enjoyed that. I'm sorry, but its all I'm comfortable doing right now.

Bruce read the message, then said, "Don't you want me to return the favor?"

She shook her head. I'll let you know when I'm ready.

There were two more weeks of this. Literally, a full two weeks. She would catch him on his way to work and go down on him, late night when the apartment's occupants were asleep, she even visited him at his job once, and the more she pleased Bruce, the deeper he fell in love with her. One day he happened by the book store to talk with Michael, but Micaela was working. Bruce smiled. "Does this mean you are going to stay?"

For now, she texted. There was a lovely smile upon her face. She took his hand and led him to a section of books that was just high enough so as to block them from anyone's view should they walk in. She dropped to her knees, pulled his cock out, and serviced him right there in the store. Upon completion of this act, she studied Bruce, then she ran her finger along a row, stopping at Jonathan Swift. She looked at Bruce, then scrunched her face up as she shook her head. She continued down the line and to the next section, then stopped at Washington Irving. She quickly tapped a finger against his sketchbook, then slowly shook her head again. Her finger continued. She stopped abruptly, she went back three books, tapped a finger slowly, smiled, and pulled Ray Bradbury's Something Wicked This Way Comes from the shelf. She took his hand and led him back to the register where she paid for the book before presenting it to him.

"That is so sweet, Micaela. How did you know I was a Bradbury fan?" He truly was. Well, at least, he had been for a full two minutes now. She simply shrugged. "Oh. Why I'm here. I was looking for Michael."

Dr. visit.

"Have him stop by my place?"

I will.

Bruce moved in and kissed her. "Will I see you tonight?"

And feel me.

Bruce smiled, then exited the book store. He received a call from Michael thirty minutes later. "I was just wondering if you'd be interested in a little road trip. I have four tickets for Chicago opening for Fleetwood Mac in Miami. I could take Micaela and you could bring whomever you're seeing at the moment."

"Hey, man. That sounds great. When is the concert?"

"On the twenty-second, a Saturday."

"Have you spoken to Micaela about this yet?"

"I was going to surprise her tonight," Bruce told him.

"You two are really getting along well, huh?"

"I think I've fallen in love with her."

"Even after—Never mind. None of my business."

"What?" Bruce inquired.

"The very first time you asked about her, I told you she had a lot going on in her life," Michael reminded Bruce. "If she hasn't shared any of that with you yet ... I'm sorry, but I can't be the one who tells you. It will have to come in time, when she's comfortable enough around you that she knows regardless of what it is, she will be safe."

"Can you tell her that for me?" Bruce asked.

"Tell her yourself, Bruce. It will mean more coming from you."

That night, over pizza and beer, Bruce and Micaela watched Young Guns as it had been years since either last had. As the credits began to roll, Micaela placed a hand on Brice's crotch and began to rub. He looked at her. She licked her lips in anticipation. Even though his cock had begun to swell, he said, "No," as he stood.

She just looked at him.

"Micaela, I'm in love with you. You are all I think about. When you're with me, wherever that may be, it is our safe space. That means that I will never allow any harm to come to you, and I hope you would never allow any harm to come to me."

She slowly shook her head No.

"I'm ready to move our relationship to the next level, Micaela, both romantically and physically. I have been a patient man, and while I do enjoy what you do for me, I want to reciprocate that with you, that and so much more. What do you say?"

She looked at him as tears fell from her eyes. "No," Bruce said softly. He reached for her, but she stood and exited his apartment. A few seconds later he heard the door to her apartment close. He plopped back onto the couch wondering why he just couldn't leave a good thing alone.

Thirty minutes later, Bruce received the following: Dear Bruce, I cried not from what you said, although it was sweet and touching, but because of my shame. I have not been completely honest with you, Bruce. I am a transgender. I was wrongly sexed at birth, and I now live my life as a woman—no, as THE woman I was meant to be. I am so sorry that I did not disclose this from the beginning, but you were such a wonderful person and I really wanted a new friend in my life. Michael has reprimanded me over this, and regardless of what he has said, I know I deserve so much more for toying with your emotions. That's just the thing though, Bruce. I really wasn't toying with you at all. I love you, and now I have lost you. Again, I'm so sorry. Micaela.

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