From Darker Places than I Want to Feel Ch. 07 - Epilogue

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I first posted this story on Literotica in 2013. As always, characters in this account involved in sexual activity are above the age of eighteen and those of you under the age of consent are discouraged from reading this story due to adult language, situations, and content.

This story is more a romance than a roll in the hay, although it does happen in this chapter. So, if you're looking for interesting characters, challenged by difficult situations, then read on.

This final chapter "A Reprise" is an attempt to review the story in a linear fashion from its inception; the night Sarah read Ryan's posting, to its conclusion more than a year later. It is dedicated to the support and encouragement I received from Joscelyn2tg throughout the development of this series, I can't thank her enough.

Thanks for reading, Check out my bio page for more details about 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 7 an epilogue.

"A Reprise"

Two years have passed since Melissa Cavanaugh came into Ryan's office and thanked Sarah for all she did to help her brother. Sarah passed the rest of her classes at the university, and went on to complete a master's degree in legal studies. She's now working for a new law firm downtown. It's still part-time, which allows her to teach one or two beginning classes in contract law and legal jurisprudence at a local community college.

She no longer has to watch her nephews as they have gotten older and public school shoulders that burden. They still have homework, but with age comes responsibility.

Sarah left Bryan's law firm that spring, right after he changed jobs and moved to San Diego. It wasn't as if she worked closely with him, but he did help her get her foot in the door. Plus, her previous firm didn't have any positions open for para-legals, as they promised, and the new firm offered her a lucrative incentive package.

Ryan stopped and looked into his office. "Hey sweetie, I have another class in ten minutes. It isn't over until four, can you wait?"

"Sure, I need to research something in the library anyway. See you soon." They kissed and he ran off to class.

She closed his office door and walked across the campus to enter the library building, climbing the stairs to the second floor. She walked back to the legal section, and was sidetracked by a glance across the study area to the huge wall of glass that dominated that end of the second floor. It overlooked the commons area of the campus. She watched students as they walked across the 'quad' as they call it, going from building to building and onto their next class.

Some stood in groups, greeting friends, and joking around. It all seemed so simple compared to where she was, two and a half years earlier, standing on a street corner dressed provocatively and hoping to entice a 'john' into giving her money in exchange for sex.

In those days she hoped it would be enough to last another day, or week, or month. She needed money for pills to keep up her looks, money for food to keep her going, and money for a place to stay out of the rain or wind or snow.

Now, she sat in a comfortable chair, in a library, at a university, seemingly light years away from that street corner at the other end of the 'world'. These thoughts were never far from her mind, yet at the same time they were faded by a life that brought such incredible joy to her, a life with Ryan Sullivan, the love of her life.

She shook her head and grimaced as her eyes glistened when she remembered the pain of that night, when a crack-head wacko decided to use her as a punching bag and sent her to the hospital, broken and bloody. Her sister sat crying as her nephews brought her flowers, oblivious to the real reason why she was there. She caused so much pain and suffering for her sister, her shield and her protector. She didn't deserve Anna.

When she was released from the hospital Anna took her to her apartment on the condition that she could never return to that life again and that she couldn't tell her nephews the truth until they were much older and could understand. The guilt was still there and that was something she couldn't deny.

She gathered all the pain pills prescribed to her over the weeks that followed her dismissal from the hospital. It was quite a mass of Percocet and Vicodin. The pills were gathered into a pile on a paper napkin, next to them a glass of water. All she had to do was swallow them...all of them.

It didn't matter that her sister would cry or that she would never see her nephews again, she new that living with them only caused her sister more stress beyond the divorce to her deadbeat husband. She didn't need another freeloading mouth to feed. Who was going to give her a job anyway? How was she going to support herself? Anna would be better off with her gone so she could move on with her life.

And then a simple thought occurred to her, as if a guardian angel tapped her on the shoulder and told her to 'go ahead and look at Craigslist one last time, for old-times sake.' There at the bottom of the first page was an ad from somebody named Ryan Sullivan. The stupid guy even signed his own name, how naïve.

It said that he was looking for someone familiar with the female transgendered lifestyle that would be willing to talk to him about their life for a research paper he was developing.

On a whim she decided to call him. What the hell, she thought at the time, one last spin of the bottle before she goes. He answered on the third ring and told her that he was working on a book about cross-dressers and the world of transgendered women living and working in mainstream America.

"You know, trying to work, shop, and live just like anybody else. But my biggest issue is my lack of a deeper understanding about the lifestyle. Sure, I read and hear things about it but many of those stories are just that, they're stories that are filled with fantasy and hyperbole meant to excite the imagination. There's nothing wrong with that, it's just not what I'm trying to do. I want to make my characters honest with themselves as well as with the reader. I thought that the best way I could do that was to ask someone who has experience in that world and so now we come to you."

What the fuck? Who was this guy? And why would he want to talk to her? But, the idea intrigued her. She could always take the pills tomorrow or the next day, it didn't matter. Maybe this whole thing was a big game for him; maybe he was just some naïve college dude who didn't know what he was asking. Well...what the hell, she thought, why not a little fun before I off myself.

So she agreed to meet, the following Saturday in the park outssideher apartment complex. She brought her nephews along for...well, it wasn't as if they could protect her if things got dicey but maybe they could call for help. She shrugged and smirked...whatever.

It was still cold out, a little blustery and the wind kicked up tiny dust devils across the barren playground. Her nephews scampered off to the swings across the way. Just close enough that she could shout at them if she needed help but far enough away that they couldn't hear what was said.

She remembered her first encounter with Ryan. She was dressed in baggy sweatpants and a t-shirt that looked a bit ragged, well-worn running shoes, and a baseball cap pulled down to partially cover her eyes. Ryan stood up and waved shyly.

He leaned forward but she stood motionless. He thanked her for meeting him and extended his hand but she didn't take it. She was still cautious of the guy. Who was he? What did he really want? His gesture ignored, he sat back against the railing and shoved his neglected hand back into his pocket.

She tried to goad him into revealing what he really wanted, at first she tried to seduce him, well she wasn't really dressed for that and it quickly fizzled. So she tried to shock him with an explicit description of what she did. That may have been exaggerated a little bit, but it didn't work either. Next a little S&M action with a smack across his face, that failed too. She moved forward to take another swipe at him.

He must have gotten angry because he spoke calmly but ever so firmly.

"Be quiet and take your hands off of me."

She backed off a few steps and glared at him. She started to open her mouth but he beat her to it. She was stunned by his reaction.

"If this is your response to what we agreed upon then we're through before we even get started. I came here to meet you and talk to you honestly about your life and your experiences. If you see it like some sort of game then we have nothing further to discuss. But if you want to do this, like you said you did, then you need to stop the bullshit and be honest with yourself and with me."

"As frightening as it may sound, you are just going to have to trust me. I won't beat you; I won't try to fuck you. I just want to talk to you honestly and openly about your life. I know it might be a bit daunting; perhaps more distressing than anything you've ever done before. Because to be brutally honest with yourself, to drop all the pretenses and peal back all the bullshit that we wrap around us in order to protect ourselves from the truth of who we really are, is terrifying. You can say no at anytime and it's over. I will walk away and we will never speak again. That's the only control I'm willing to give you. Is that what you want?"

She was floored, who was this guy? She remembered shaking her head the whole time he rebuked her, realizing her mistake, the imprint of her hand on his face reminding her of how foolish she was. God, she was stupid.

She also remembered it as the single moment that changed her life...forever. She would never forget it.

Her mind flashed to their next meeting the following Saturday. She wore a pretty summer dress in yellow with a bright floral design. It was a far cry from the baggy pants and ragged shirt she wore the first time they met. She carried a light sweater over her shoulders with the sleeves tied loosely at her neck. She finished the look with a pair of brown leather sandals. He wore blue jeans, a khaki shirt, and running shoes. He smiled awkwardly as she walked up to him leading her two nephews into the park.

They sat on the same bench while her nephews played in the sand pile by the swings. She remembered asking him why he was so determined to write about her, who she called 'throw-away people'? She was floored once again by his response.

"Well, first of all," he said, "you are not a throwaway person, you never have been and you never will be. There are people in this world who love you and care about you. Calling yourself a 'throw-away-person' really makes me angry so please don't ever say that again. You're a beautiful human being, Sarah. Yes, you're troubled, you're angry, and you're confused. I get that. But you're also incredibly brave."

She scoffed at the idea and then he went on to say something she would never forget.

"You've decided to make a change in your life that most people would never do for fear of what others might think or do. That's courageous and that's why I ask these questions. Because I want to understand someone who chooses to fly in the face of everything to chart your own course, to find your own way in the world, regardless of what others might say or do. You are amazing. Sarah Daniels. It fascinates me to know someone like you."

She remembered blushing profusely after he said that. She wasn't used to people being so candid. They talked about a lot of things after that. Mostly about her and how she found her 'dates'. He did ask her if she'd ever been raped. She recounted a story and told him why she always carried a knife after that. She frowned as she remembered challenging him because she thought he always lived a comfortable life. "You have no clue do you? How could you possibly understand? You've never been beaten nearly to death have you?"

He said he had, years ago in Vietnam. He almost died. If she had only remembered that before she tried to playfully handcuff him months later it would have saved a lot of pain and anguish for both of them.

She sighed, as she shook her head. Love is blind and spends too much time stumbling around in the dark.

She remembered his phone call nearly a week later. He wanted to add the three more meetings he negotiated to the schedule. She wanted to meet more anyway but she decided to play a little coy and tease him. She ended up getting him to buy her another pair of heels, God she loved high heels, the higher the better. To top it all off, he took her to the best shoe store in town; she didn't even have to ask!

That was also the day she met his grandmother. What a lady. There was an instant connection with her and it was wonderful. She even teased Ryan about his baby pictures, it was so much fun.

Then his sister showed up and the day fell right into the toilet. She was obviously one of those suburban housewives from the religious right, or at least it appeared that way. She made some snide remark about 'boys pretending to be girls' and that set Ryan's grandmother off like a firecracker.

" I can't believe you," she said. "What's the difference between you two? A vagina? Pooh, surgery can fix that. Breasts? That too. Perhaps you're arguing the ability to give birth? Yes, that's true, but don't you think Sarah, who sees herself as much a woman as you do, is painfully aware of that too? Besides, there are thousands of women across this country that, for one reason or another, are barren. So what does that prove?"

"Don't be so small minded. The world is changing and you have to change with it or be left behind. Girls like Sarah have always been with us; we just ignored them in the past and got away with it, by wrapping ourselves in religious dogma and fear. Well, that was then. Now they have stepped up to the table and they want their fair share. So either move over or move out."

My God, I fell in love with that woman right then and there. For the rest of the afternoon there was tension between us but eventually we finished packing her up and we left, thank God.

On the way back to his house he stopped at a museum that used to be the home of a wealthy family. They called it a 'folly'. I'd never heard of that before. He continued to amaze me; I'd missed so much standing on a street corner hustling for 'tricks'. There was a whole world out there that was passing me by. At least Ryan was helping me catch up.

The fifth time they met the conversation turned really serious. He asked why she didn't go the S&M route? I shrugged and suggested that if I had, we would never have met. He didn't understand so she tried to explain.

"One of the Dom's I knew warned me about the amount of effort I would have to give if I chose to work in that world. It would change the way I interacted with people. You have to learn how to manage the various fetishes properly, especially bondage, it you're going to stay in that world. From the outside, it sounded like the girls had the control but that wasn't really true. Control takes work, and keeping your clients happy under your control puts you in the position of being their caretaker, as you constantly deal with the nuances of a client's fetish. I agree, the S&M world could have been lucrative, but it was also very complicated. In the end, it would always boil down to a simple relationship of domination and submission. The men those girls were with were always their subs, never their lovers, and the girls could never allow themselves to be seen on an equal footing with these clients for the sake of their fetish."

The last official meeting happened in a café rather than on the playground. It was raining off and on that day and the skies looked like they would open up at any minute. Ryan was in a funk about a story he'd read and she was trying her best to not let on that she was afraid that this would be the last time they would meet. Finally, she admitted that she didn't want this to be their last meeting. He looked a bit surprised saying that she was the one who first demanded that there only be three meetings which he negotiated into six. He wondered why the change of heart.

She couldn't admit that she had fallen in love with him. She smiled at her reflection in the glass window as she recalled his argument about their age difference. It didn't matter, she loved him and she didn't care. She was glad she refused to listen to him; she loved him more and more each day. She did manage to wrangle a date out of him, for dinner and a movie.

Dinner at Shogun was interesting; she'd never been to a sushi place before. Aside from the wasabi, it was wonderful. The movie was Casablanca, one of his favorites. There was an advertisement for a showing of The Wizard of Oz, which they were all set to go to later on, but things got complicated that day. Perhaps the next time it played.

The date was marvelous. He was the consummate gentleman and she felt like a princess. She remembered asking him if she could see him the next day. He said he had to work but he was free after three, she showed up at one and spent the afternoon straightening his cluttered office. That's when she met Melissa Cavanaugh for the first time. She was the goody-two-shoes dyed-in-the wool 'Christian' who made it her mission to poke her nose into everybody else's business. Melissa became a thorn in her side for some time after that.

She smiled as she thought of the way karma bit her in the butt a couple of months later. Her eyes glistened when she remembered the moment that Melissa broke down in the hallway outside of Ryan's office.

She was so proud of Ryan the day she met Cavanaugh. She really didn't know what he thought about a girl like her, but that changed in an instant when he stood up to Cavanaugh's bigotry.

"I'm a little concerned Miss Cavanaugh. For someone who presents herself as a model student intent on doing social work as a career, you seemed to be awfully quick to unfairly judge others. Sarah is my friend. If you judge her then you're judging me. Do you accept the responsibility to judge? Or is it that you really just want to feel superior to anyone by condemning something or someone you couldn't possibly understand? From my perspective you're behaving like a selfish little child who pretends to be a good Christian when in fact you're nothing more than one of the Pharisees that Jesus denounced."

He slammed the door in her face saying, "Serves her right the little twit." He sat down in his office chair and began working on his computer. She wondered if he knew the significance of what he just did. Probably not. She assumed at the time that people like Ryan have never lived under the sneer of others who enjoyed looking down their noses at anyone different from them. She wasn't wrong about that, but she was wrong about assuming that he wasn't sympathetic...so very wrong.

That was also the day he asked her to go with him to a museum, a first for her. It was fascinating to wander from room to room in that huge place. It was filled with so many amazing things, from Egyptian mummies to Victorian stained glass. She had no idea such places existed. But the room that held the most fascination for her was the special collections exhibit on children of incarcerated parents. That was a mind-blowing experience.

They walked into a room and looked at paintings and drawings that depicted life at home for children while their parents were gone. One particular painting showed a room surrounded by prison bars. Sarah studied it for a long time. Ryan, who had moved on to other drawings, returned to stand by her. He asked if she liked it and she told him, "No, not really. It just reminded me of my life before I moved in with my sister."