From Darker Places than I Want to Feel Ch. 03

Here's chapter three of a story I first posted on Literotica in 2013. As always, characters in this account involved in sexual activity are above the age of eighteen (which really doesn't happen until much later) and those of you under the age of consent are discouraged from reading this story due to adult language, situations, and content.

If you haven't figured it out from the first chapter, this story is more a romance than a roll in the hay. If you're looking for a flash in the pants, look elsewhere. If you're looking for interesting characters, challenged by difficult situations, then read on.

Thanks for reading, Check out my bio page for more details about my work and me. Don't forget to leave a comment when you're finished, feedback is the lifeblood of any writer.

So now, enjoy From Darker Places than I Want To Feel -- chapter 3.

Laundry and Baseball

Ryan lifted his head to stare bleary eyed at his alarm clock blaring an awful buzzing sound from across the room. His wife placed it there twenty years ago because, never a morning person, he was too fond of the snooze button. It read eight o'clock. He stumbled out of his bedroom and walked to the front door of his apartment. The morning newspaper should have arrived by now. After fumbling with the lock for a minute he managed to open the door to find Sarah sitting on the floor outside of his apartment reading the newspaper

"You know, any more the newspaper is just becoming a one sheet; the crime report and the funnies, two sides of the same page. You can take that as a comment on the current state of our society."

Ryan wiped the sleep out of his eyes as he stood in the doorway. "What are you doing here this early? We're not meeting in the park until one, right?"

She lifted up a bag of cleaning supplies. "I'm here to help." Wearing a grin from ear to ear, she pushed past him to stand in the middle of his living room.

Around her were scattered magazines and newspapers stacked on top of books and file folders. There were a couple of messy dinner plates stained with food on the coffee table and a few too many beer bottles shoved under it.

"This place is a disaster! What is it with boys? Do you all live like pigs?"

"Hey! I resemble that remark. Don't you have to watch the boys?"

"Nope, they're off to a friend's house today for a birthday party. You got my help all day long. We can meet here while scrubbing your bathroom."

"How did you get over here?"

Sarah grabbed a trash bag and began stuffing cans, bottles, and assorted trash into it. "I borrowed Anna's car."

"Humph. Have you had breakfast?"

"Just coffee."

"That's more than me. Give me a minute, Sarah, I'll put on some clean clothes and we'll go get breakfast."

"Why? I can cook."

"Not when there's nothing to make." Ryan walked into the kitchen and pulled out coffee filters and a bag of ground coffee. "This stuff will make the purists in Seattle scoff but it sort of looks and tastes like coffee when it's brewed." Make us a pot for later, I'll be right back."

He sauntered down the hallway towards the bathroom and quietly closed the door. Sarah looked around for a coffee maker then found a funnel device to put over a carafe.

While the coffee was slowly percolating through the grounds and filter she glanced over to see an old clock radio perched above the refrigerator. She smirked a little as she reached across and flipped the switch. After a buzz and a hiss the radio came to life. A tuneful theme song played for a few seconds then she heard the announcer.

"It's Saturday morning and this is Weekend Edition on National Public Radio. I'm Scott Simon..." She shook her head as the radio turned to static when she changed the station.

She moved the tuner dial to a piano jazz station. That was much better than 'yak radio'. She moved her lithe body to the rhythm of the music as she poured the rest of the hot water through the coffee filter.

A couple of minutes later, Ryan reemerged from his bedroom wearing slacks, a golf shirt, and sandals.

"Go brush your hair, you have a serious case of 'bed-head' this morning." She snickered as he walked back to the bathroom. She danced into the living room to resume her scavenger hunt for trash and beer bottles.

He returned and stood at the hallway entrance wearing a Baltimore Orioles ball cap. "There. Are you willing to go out in public with me now?"

"Baltimore? Really?"

"What? They're a good team."

She rolled her eyes and laughed at him as she tossed her collection of trash into the kitchen waste bin.

Ryan took her hand and pulled her away from her trash hunt. "Come on, I'm hungry."

Charlie's Diner on Grant Street was a local greasy spoon open for breakfast and lunches every day of the week except Wednesday. The service was efficient, the clientele local, and the food tasted great as long as you didn't look too close behind the counter. A closer examination would reveal all the grease accumulated from years of neglect. Aside from that, you'd find the place very quaint.

Ryan and Sarah found a booth by the windows and looked at their menus. Around the room were several cops, a city councilman, some office types and a few construction workers. It was a real nice mix. A few minutes later a waitress stopped by with coffee and took their orders.

Ryan looked up and noticed two girls and a man dressed in flashy clothes. They walked in and sat in a booth in the far corner of the dining room. He glanced back at Sarah. She noticed the same thing and nodded with a grimace. He glanced out the window while she buried her nose in the menu again.

He was reminded of their third meeting where he asked her if she ever belonged to a pimp.

"No, those fuckers are evil. I took my chances on my own. I knew a few girls who 'belonged' to a guy, his name was Biggie." She used her fingers to make 'air-quotes' when she said belonged.

"What do you mean belonged? Were they like his slaves?"

"In a way, yes. Once they came into his stable he got them to do whatever he wanted and whenever he wanted. It was almost as if they wanted to be treated that way. It was kind of sick, really. He promised them protection and beat them up when they didn't do what he told them to do, even when it was dangerous."

"Why didn't they leave?"

"Where would they go? They had no money; he kept it all. And he doled it out whenever they needed necessities. Or he'd 'treat them' to a dinner out when they were good. With the money they earned I might add. The son-of-a-bitch never lifted a finger to do anything but beat on them to keep them in line."

"What about the cops?"

"Pfft. The cops. They're more worried about drugs and illegal immigrants to be concerned with a bunch of girls being beaten up by a low-life like Biggie. We weren't on their radar screens. The only time they did anything, and that was only cursory, was when a girl was killed by a trick got overzealous. One little fucker was into strangle-sex and he killed her. I heard that he snapped her neck. Poor thing, she was cute too. She'd been working for less than a year and she was maybe all of eighteen."

Ryan sat on the bench mortified by what he heard. He had no idea what those girls faced each day trying to survive on the streets. He never looked at the obituaries listing in the paper because he didn't want to think about it. John Q Public was probably the same way. Ignore it and it will go away.

Sarah stood up and shouted at her nephews. "Bobbie, give Michael back his shoes. And quit throwing sand Michael!"

She sat back down and glanced over to a somber looking Ryan. She shook her head with a grimace then she sighed. "So no, I stayed away from the pimps and their brain-washing bullshit. With the narcs chasing false crack dealer leads and sniffing out meth labs, I figured it was safe enough to play it solo."

"Did you ever spend time in jail?"

"Nope, but I came close a couple of times. I tried to keep a low profile. I used Craigslist and burners to keep me safe."

"Burners?"

"Yeah, throw away cellphones. You could buy them cheap if you knew the right people. They had sim cards with prepaid minutes loaded on them. As soon as the minutes were up you threw them away. The phones were from all over the country, it didn't matter where."

"Where they stolen?"

"Yeah, some of them were. As long as they had a camera I was fine. I could upload images with my laptop anywhere I could get Wi-Fi." She shrugged coupled with a wry smile. "It worked, for a while, anyway."

"Where did you keep your stuff? You know, clothes, shoes, makeup, you had to have some clothes didn't you?"

"Yeah, I had a few things."

"Did you have an apartment?"

"Humph, no. I carried everything I needed immediately on my back. What I couldn't carry I stashed in a locker where I could have easy access. Sometimes I'd crash at a friend's place, or sometimes I'd stay in a shelter."

She continued. "I hated the shelters. There were these people who roamed around looking for girls like me for what they liked to call special treatment. If you propositioned guys like I did and somebody complained they would target you for special treatment. They called themselves outreach councilors but in reality they were like the Gestapo. If they found you then you might end up in one of their inner city mental health centers. I had a girlfriend come back from one of those places." She glanced sideways at Ryan. "She was never the same person."

"Did they feed you at the shelters?"

"Yeah, it was all right, I guess. But with the Gestapo hanging around it wasn't any safer than on the streets. If I didn't have an appointment I'd be at a friend's place or looking for a party where I could hook up. The shelters were good for a shower and getting something to eat. I'd duck in for the day then I'd be out hustling again hoping the next getting out of the rain. Sometimes I would get enough cash to get a long term stay in one of the Ma and Pa hotels along the tourist strip."

"Wasn't that expensive?"

"Not in the off season. The rooms were cheap during the winter months. It was nice, if you could afford it. My biggest issue was getting the drugs I needed to stay sane."

"Drugs? You mean like heroin or crack?"

"God you're naïve. No. I needed testosterone blockers and estrogen supplements. All this beauty comes with a price, and it ain't cheap. That's one of the reasons I had to leave my home. They refused to pay for the meds I needed to help with my transition. My dad flatly refused, he said it was a waste of good money. My mom, she was the bible thumper in the family, so in some respects she was worse than he was, agreed."

"What about Anna?"

"Anna, my sweet, lovely sister Anna. She's my rock. She hated what my parents were doing to me but she had her own problems to deal with at the time. She was headed for a major divorce with two toddlers and no income. The asshole she was married to was dicking around with every girl in his office and spending all he earned before he brought anything home to pay the bills. The boys were little then, she couldn't afford to do anything until she was clear of him."

"Does he pay child support?"

"Not while he's in jail."

Ryan shook his head and sighed. "The rest of the world has no idea and could care less?"

Sarah nodded her head and glanced over to see what her nephews were doing. Michael was playing with a beat up toy car in the sand box and Bobbie was sitting on top of a toy digger that used two handles to manipulate a metal arm and shovel.

Sarah was quiet for a long time. Ryan could see that she was deep in thought. She sighed then took a big breath to let it out slowly.

She pressed her lips together as if she finally arrived at a decision. "What do you think of me?"

Ryan glanced over at her quickly. He was shocked by the candor of her question. "Huh?"

"Be honest. What do you think of me? I want to know?"

Ryan offered her a half-shrug and smiled winsomely. He looked off across the playground to the houses and buildings that lined the streets opposite the park. "I think you're an amazing person. You've suffered a lot for your truth, not because you wanted to but because you thought you needed to. I'm glad your sister brought you home."

"Yeah, I probably wouldn't be alive right now if she hadn't." She paused a moment and watched the boys play. "Do you think of me as a woman?"

"Wow, you don't hold any punches do you?" He shifted in his seat and turned to look directly into her eyes. "Yes, a very beautiful woman, inside and out. I was sort of shocked the first time I met you. Aside from the grungy appearance I could see that buried beneath those grubby clothes was a beautiful, angry, frustrated, and very frightened woman."

She blushed crimson.

"Now it's my turn to ask a pointed question."

She turned to look at him, the hard edges were still there but she was a little softer now, not so quick to overreact. Perhaps she felt safer, at least a little bit, and that made asking this question a little easier.

"Do you think about your penis?"

"All the time. Especially when I was on the streets. It was all you thought about when you weren't wanking off some old geezer looking for a quick flash in the pants. When I left the streets, after I got out of the hospital, I thought about it less. Now it's on my mind again."

"Why now?"

"Because I'm with you."

"Why?"

She sighed a bit and glanced at him sideways then she picked up a stick and started to scratch around in the gravel at their feet. "Because you know who you are but I'm not so sure about who I am."

"I don't get it."

"And you never will until you walk a mile in my heels."

Ryan looked away and watched random cars drive by the neighborhood park. He was frustrated, not because he felt she wasn't being truthful but more because she was right, he would never fully understand what it was like to be in transition without experiencing it firsthand.

"Look, you're a man, you know where you fit in the world. I don't because I'm in transition. Shit, even if I had the big surgery I still would wonder if people would accept me. Do you ever have that thought? Hi, I'm Ryan; please accept me as a man. No, of course not. It doesn't even occur to you, or to a genetic woman for that matter. But to a transgendered woman, or man, it's on our minds constantly. One word, one sneer, one mocking look and the illusions we drape around ourselves are shattered."

Ryan looked into her eyes. There was that fiery intensity again. He sighed and looked away.

"So now you understand why I asked that question, why it's so important for me to know. And now, I'll ask it again. Do you think of me as a woman?"

Ryan paused to give himself a moment to consider her question.

"You're not a woman by what's between your legs, Sarah. You're a woman because of how you feel inside. Physical attributes can be changed; women and men do it all the time. A little nip here, a little tuck there, cosmetics, it's just the surface. What makes a woman a woman or a man a man is what they feel in their heart and who they are inside their head. Some of it is a hormones, I recognize that, but some of it is a deep seated desire to be who you really are. Nobody would go through the shit you've had to endure because it just seemed like a good idea at the time."

She nodded and looked at her watch with a sigh. "I have to take the boys back now. Anna will be home soon and I have to start dinner."

"Are you a good cook?"

"I'm an excellent cook, why?"

"I don't know, I just wondered."

"Well Mr. Doubting Thomas, I'll make you dinner one of these nights and you can see for yourself. Bobbie, Michael, we have to go now. Dust the sand off and empty the sand out of your shoes, okay?"

Ryan stood and watched her parade her nephews out of the park and across the street to their apartment building. Sarah was indeed a beautiful woman

A thought slipped into the recesses of his mind. It lingered a fleeting moment only to be dismissed, then it returned again like a butterfly pausing to rest. He recognized the thought, it had danced through his mind several times before and each time he dismissed it with arguments of age or youth or conflicting interests. And each time it danced around his misguided reason and returned to tease and tantalize.

He sighed and stood up. The sun was beginning to set earlier as the days marched towards December. He threw his jacket over his shoulder and trudged off across the park towards his car.

"Huh?"

"I asked...what are you going to do with all this research?" She stuffed the last of her pancake into her mouth.

Ryan was lost in thought and didn't hear her question. He idly stirred the cream in his coffee. "Oh. Write a paper, then perhaps a book."

"Really?"

He grinned. "Don't worry; all the names will be changed to protect the guilty."

She reached across the table and swatted his arm playfully. "If it gets around, it's going to make some very nasty people angry."

Ryan shrugged and forked another piece of pancake into his mouth.

Sarah looked down at her plate and picked up her fork to pick up a tiny crumb of pancake. She swirled it around to sop up some extra syrup before she lifted into her mouth.

"You know, the best thing to ever happen to me was that night that I got beat up and sent to the hospital."

Ryan looked up astonished. "What? Why would you ever say that?"

"Because if it had never happened I might still be out there on the streets, right now. Or dead. I might never have met my nephews. And I might never have met you."

Ryan sat for a moment and looked into her eyes. They were filled with the same intensity that he'd seen over and over again. He noticed it the first time they met. Her anger and fear all rolled into one ball of fury. He saw it again when he was talking to her about how brave he thought she was, or when she talked about her penis. He remembered the look in her eyes, the intensity. It was there now, again, but this time the intensity he saw was there for a different reason.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome.'

Outside the diner, Sarah eased into the passenger seat as Ryan started his car and pulled out of the parking lot. But instead of heading back to his apartment he drove off in a different direction.

"Where are we going?"

"I thought I'd get a few groceries for an unexpected guest. How about I cook us a late lunch as a thank you for all your help?"

"Just the two of us?"

"Yeah, is that all right?"

Sarah smiled sweetly. "Yes, I'd like that very much."

They wandered the grocery aisles looking for bargains. Ryan told her that a college professor's salary, unless you're an engineer or a business type, is not much to sneeze at. "It's a pauper's life sometimes but it's what I like to do."

Sarah glanced about at the other shoppers pushing wire-meshed carts up and down the aisles. At the end of one aisle they stopped at the meat counter and Ryan looked for a chicken to cook for dinner.

While she stood there she glanced up and saw their reflection in the butcher shop glass. They looked like a married couple, shopping for groceries on the weekend like so many others in the store. It made her feel odd, but a good odd. Like it was something normal and she was doing a normal thing. It was so unusual, shopping for groceries with Ryan, that she didn't want it to stop. She wanted to do more normal things, with him. She wanted a normal life.

They got back to his place an hour later and Sarah picked up where she left off with her treasure hunt for trash. After he put the groceries away he, Ryan, pulled out a laundry basket and quickly filled it with a week's worth of dirty clothes. He opened the hall closet doors to reveal a washer and dryer unit hidden under a mound of unsorted clothes.