Give and Take Ch. 01

Frosted vapor still rises from the longneck as the chilled glass touches my lips. I'm not supposed to be drinking beer. Big shot corporate lawyers are supposed to drink Scotch neat. Or a classic cocktail like an Old Fashioned. Both options have their merits, but there is nothing quite like the sweet nectar of an icy Miller Lite on a summer night.

Yes yes, domestic tap water. As much alcohol and flavor in the beads of sweat pouring down the side of the bottle as inside the bottle. Heard it all before. Here I am with an open tab on the firm's dollar and I can't even be bothered to order a microbrew with a punny name and too many hops if I really must insist on drinking beer. Of course, I'm not much for appearances on a normal day, much less when July arrived with a vengeance.

Charleston's famous breeze isn't enough today. If it wasn't for the damn stickiness. I can feel my arm slick past my body with every lift of the bottle. A haze keeps me from looking too far ahead. The type of day designed to make cold beer go down smooth. I pick at the edges of the label, curling it away from the bottle. Besides, it's good enough for my father, so fuck what anyone else thinks. Not that there are many people in here to think about it one way or the other.

I'm the last one standing of course. Always have been. In high school it meant shutting off the lights for the weight room after football practice: cheerleaders don't date bench warmers after all. Law school, I stayed in the library until the Asians left. Now I'm the last guy to leave the office. It's not all work and no play though. No sir. I was also the guy who locked up the frat house in undergrad, and I never leave the bar before last call.

I return the empty bottle to the bar top and lift a finger for one more before making my way inside to drain the lizard. Even warmer inside, where a ceiling fan wobbles and shakes as it struggles to recreate the ocean breeze that the back deck enjoys. I shuffle through the dining room to the men's room, where the smell of stale piss greets me. Despite the nasal assault, I hum happily as I splash the chipped porcelain, letting my head roll back as I relieve the pressure. A good piss is one of the underrated pleasures in life.

Zipping up and then soaping up, I grin at the mirror. It had been a crazy week, but a great week. Proud of my boys. We had gone gangbusters and got the deal signed today to save our long weekend. Neither side had wanted to work through the Fourth, but both sides were compelled to bluff their ardent desire to grill at the office lest they give away negotiating leverage. So when pen went to paper just in time to save the holiday, it was pretty much a given that the firm would be paying for a celebration at the neighboring bar.

I sling water onto the wooden deck as I step back out into the night air with renewed appreciation for the breeze after escaping the stifling men's room. Seems like it's finally cooling off a bit. The wood creaks as I approach the now empty corner of the bar where our party had once been. I pick up my bottle with a friendly tilt in the direction the other survivor, a man posted up at the opposite corner of the bar top, then take a long, slow swig. That's the stuff.

"What was the occasion?"

I jump as he speaks, not even realizing he had slid down to my end while I was caught up in my thoughts. Recovering my wits, I turn a friendly smile on him as I size him up. I recognize the attire as my own: previously professional with a jacket and tie long abandoned to the back of the chair and dress sleeves rolled in a futile attempt to cool off.

"Signed a big deal today. Just in time to earn ourselves a three-day weekend."

"Cheers to that. Always good to get a little time off." Our bottles clink. "Name's Virgil by the way." He extends his hand.

"Ash." I reply as we exchange a firm handshake. "And amen. Especially in the legal world, gotta take your time whenever you can get it. Yes sir."

"I was going to ask if you were legal, financial, or business side of deal-making. But no, I don't envy lawyers' hours at all."

"So now, what do you do?" Before he answers the bartender arrives to inform us of last call. I order another round, insisting on putting his on the firm tab. Not like I'm paying it anyway. Replacing my empty with the fresh bottle I resume my line of questioning.

"Now then, what line of work are you in?"

"Consulting. Not as bad as the hours you guys put in, but I rack up a lot of airline miles and live out of a suitcase almost year round. I just wrapped up an assignment today but decided I might as well stay for the weekend in a town with a beach, try and meet some beach bunnies."

I chuckle as I glance around the otherwise empty deck. "Sorry to disappoint you." I motion towards my decidedly un-bunny physique, then sip my drink.

He shares in the laugh before answering. "Hey, you never know who's willing to take a Pink."

"Fair enough I suppose." I shake my head ruefully, while his lips curl into a smirk.

"Ever try one?" Wait, he's serious? Sure, everyone has heard of X-Change. The sex change pills created a sensation when they entered the market a year or so ago. And yeah, they're totally legal and apparently popular based on the sales numbers. But it's still a relatively small share of the population that actually uses the pills, much less talks about it publicly. I let the question hang in the air while I take a long drag on the bottle.

The bottle slowly descends, carefully returned to the cardboard coaster. "No, can't say that I have."

"Curious?" Well now that was a loaded question. Curious? Sure, who hasn't wondered what it would be like on the other side of the looking glass. My ex, Maggie, best set of knockers I've ever seen, could get lost for hours in those peaks. I always wondered how she managed to get anything done during the day. The temptation to just fondle those perfect handfuls, how did she not give in to it when she had 24/7 access. Curious? Yes. Willing to actually do it? That's a whole other ballgame.

He interrupts my thought process. "I've got a Pink Lite, it's only four hours if you really hate it."

That makes a lot of sense actually. It's not permanent after all. I polish off the beer and set it on the counter. "Fuck it, let's keep this party rolling."

The walk to his hotel provides a little too long for second thoughts to kick in. "So you've taken these before right? It's safe?"

He laughs. "Taken them myself. Watched others take them. Always flipped back, right on time."

"Good. That's good. Still sort of hard to believe this stuff really works, I mean, it's all very science fiction right?"

"Yeah, I know what you mean." The remainder of the walk passes in silence, save for the ding of the elevator reaching his floor.

He leads me through the carpeted suite into a marble floored bathroom, where he digs through his shaving bag until he produces a pink package, setting it on the granite topped vanity. "So uh, there's the pills. There's a hotel robe on the back of the door in case your clothes don't fit and uhhh, yeah, I guess I'll give you a moment." He stands awkwardly in the doorway for a moment drumming his quads nervously. "Oh and just so you know, I'm not like a creep or anything, like obviously we can do or not do whatever you feel comfortable with, so yeah, take your time." The door pulls to behind him and I immediately lock it.

Okay, now I was panicking. I had been nervous but still excited and curious on the walk, but after that display of cringe, what the fuck was I getting myself into here? Hey buddy, don't worry, I'm not gonna rape you after you change! Well, I wasn't worrying about it before you said that! What the fuck!

I need to take a leak while I figure this out. I stand there filling the bowl while I think back over the whole encounter with the out of towner. No, never really got a creep vibe. Bored business traveler, yes. And super awkward just now, but hell, it is kind of awkward right? I'm about to Clark Kent into a female of unknown appearance in the hotel room of a guy I just met an hour ago at a bar. This isn't exactly normal, he was probably just trying to be considerate. And hey, the door's locked, worst case is I barricade myself in here for four hours until it wears off.

I pick up the pink box, carefully reviewing the instructions and fine print disclaimers that only lawyers read. Apparently you shouldn't be clothed when you took the pill, so I peel the sweat soaked garments off my body, pausing to appreciate the feeling of air conditioning sweeping over my skin. Then I pour a glass of water and remove the pill from the blister pack, setting it on the counter. I stare at it for a while as I swish water around my mouth, wetting my tongue and psyching myself up.

You can do this. You're not a narc. You smoked your share in college, even had that one time you did ecstasy. And this isn't even mind altering, it's just trying out a new body.

I palm and swallow the pill in a flash, chasing it with water. Then wait. A little bit longer. Nothing is happening. I grab the robe off the back of the door, fastening the tie as I walk out. "What the hell, did you give me a dud or something?"

Sitting at the foot of the king size bed, he looks up from some baseball highlights on the TV, his eyes betraying surprise to still see, well, me.

"How long ago did you take it?" he stammers. "Sometimes there's a slight delay."

A heat wave boils up inside me. I swear steam whistles out of my pores as the fever breaks and I feel myself crashing towards the floor. My eyes shut as the room spins but something breaks my fall and then I just hold on as I feel my whole body shift, skin and muscles rippling as they wrap themselves around a new frame.

I stand there clinging with white knuckles, eyes clinched, willing the world to stop spinning. Finally I seem to recover my equilibrium and I cautiously blink one eye open, then the other before at last chancing to open both eyes wide to survey my surroundings. Everything seems to be in place as it was before, except he is standing directly in front of me, holding me upright in his arms, looking down into my eyes with a worried expression.

"Are you okay?"

I blink a few times as my eyes adjust, his face backlit by an overly bright overhead. As I do so, a long strand of hair falls across my face, obscuring my vision slightly. I brush it back out of the way, tucking it behind my ear absent-mindedly.

"Yeah, I think so, that was just really intense." I look down. Still clinging to him as if he is the only thing anchoring me to the ground. Looking back up with a sheepish smile, I relinquish my grip and take a half-step back. "Sorry about that, thank you for not letting me fall." Hopefully that wasn't premature, still feels like I could collapse at any moment.

As the fog slowly clears, the sentence replays in my head, and I hear my voice. The higher pitch, a feminine lilt and even a dash of breathiness? I clap my hands to my mouth and my eyes saucer as I look to him for confirmation of the impossible reality. Holy shit! It actually worked, that was definitely a chick's voice. I mean, of course it worked, that was totally what I was expecting, but until...

"Of course, it's definitely an intense experience." He interrupts my internal freak out. "I've never had the chance to watch someone else flip before, it's amazing to see. Especially since your transformation was so, uh, dramatic."

I arch an eyebrow: what does that mean? I needed a mirror, immediately. I dash into the bathroom, stopping short at the sight of a petite vixen. Is this really me? The size difference is startling. Must be about a foot shorter, probably half the body weight. My fingers pinch my cheeks then trace my features. In many ways it's still my face, bearing a decided family resemblance to the sister I never had, as if someone applied a photo filter to soften and feminize my old face. I keep touching and feeling my skin, amazed at the suppleness. My tanned and somewhat weathered male skin had visibly lightened and smoothed, displaying the softness and bounce that only the glow of youth could provide. Not that I was old, and I was a very well kept thirty-six thank you very much, but still.

I pat my face all over just marveling at and appreciating the youthful advantages that I had taken for granted when I experience this age as a man, until I catch sight of my eyes in the mirror. I draw in a sharp breath and lean in closer to confirm the sight. Green! My dark chocolate eyes had transformed into sparkling emeralds.

In fact I had seemed to lighten all over, including my hair. As I lift a strand and turn it over for inspection, I find a thin bottom layer that preserved the mahogany shade I was familiar with as a man, but over the top of that was a thicker layer of copperish blonde that highlighted to golden blonde. Turning my head side to side, I watch the bouncy waves shimmer as they move and catch light at different angles. The layers combined to give an overall color that was difficult to name, seemingly shifting from burnished bronze to polished brass as my locks moved from the shadows to the light.

"Like I said, dramatic." Virgil leans against the doorframe, a knowing smile on his lips. How long has he been watching my narcissism?

I laugh nervously. "Sorry, I think I got a little carried away playing with my hair."

That earns a hearty chuckle. "Perfectly natural your first time. Besides, I don't blame you for wanting to look, you're beautiful after all."

"Really?" I blush at the compliment, but still smile. It sort of embarrasses me but it feels good to hear, my head tingling slightly as if from a head rush, causing me to reach a hand up to scratch my scalp, brushing my hair back in the process.

"I mean it Ash. Or should I call you Ashley now?" He takes a step in from the doorway, forcing me to look up slightly to find his eyes as he brings me within reach.

I snort. "Sure, why not? After all the fights I got into as a kid, swearing up and down that Ashley was a boy's name, now look at me. Thanks mom and dad." I can only shake my head at the irony.

His laugh echoes off the marble. "Wait really? Ash was short for Ashley? Why did your parents do that?"

"It's all Margaret Mitchell's fault. My dad said I should just be grateful they didn't go with Sue." I rolled my eyes at the dad joke, but see confusion on Virgil's face. "You know, Johnny Cash?"

"Oh right." He nods along eagerly with a grin. Guy definitely has no idea what I'm talking about right now and is just humoring me for some reason. His eyes flash to my chest, then rise back to my face. Following his eyes reveals that the robe that had been so tightly sashed before the pill kicked in now hung precariously off my shoulders, forming a deep v that exposed my new cleavage while only just covering my nipples. No wonder he was so agreeable.

I pull the robe tight around myself as I look back at him, my face reddening.

His face apologizes immediately as his hand grips my shoulder through the terry cloth, the contrast between his muscular hand and my thin shoulder undeniable. "Hey, don't be embarrassed. I promise you have nothing to be embarrassed about." His brown eyes sparkle mischievously as he delivers the line, and I can't help but giggle along. I did turn into something of a babe. "I would offer to let you borrow some of the clothes I wear when I take the pill to make you more comfortable, but I only drop a couple of inches when I flip so I don't think they would fit you shorty." This man sure is grinning about eating some shit.

"Well now, if that isn't convenient that you would looove to offer me some clothes, but it turns out that I'll just have to stay naked after all." His hand on the top of my shoulder had moved to my back, pulling me in closer so that our chests nearly touched. I sigh, feeling my body relax, the awkwardness of the situation melting as we laugh and banter.

I look up expectantly, waiting for him to hit the ball back. But he doesn't, just staring back into my eyes with a curious expression I had never seen before, but one that my female body seems to understand intuitively as desire.

His lips touch mine. Light. Soft. I don't retreat or engage. Just feel the touch. Absorb the sense. A man is kissing me. And it feels natural. Right even. His finger cups my chin, tilting it up, and now I return the kiss properly. My tongue finds his, a flirting touch, then deeper. My mind swims trying to catch up to the flurry of foreign experiences, the series of firsts coming in quick succession, but the body knows exactly what to do even as the conscious straggles. Maybe it's the booze, or the hormones, or maybe he's just a damn good kisser, but at some point during the kiss I turn my brain off. Mentally shrug my shoulders. You seem to know what's going on here body, so you do you.

His hands move to my waist, pulling me tight to him. As my body presses to him I can feel his hardness press against my hip. I smirk as I break the kiss, giving him a knowing look as I lean back in his arms.

"Hey, I said you were beautiful. This is your fault."

"And I suppose it's my job to fix the situation then, right?" My fingers trace the outline pressing through his pants.

A nod and a smoldering look are the only response I receive. The only one needed. I pull the robe back, letting it fall to the floor, and he rewards me with a sharp intake of breath and a look of Christmas morning. My embarrassment at being exposed is now replaced at pride in displaying myself for him. His eyes drink in my form, consuming my beauty, studying every line and memorizing every curve. Something inside me stirs in response, thrilling at the response it has elicited from this tall, handsome and accomplished man. I steal a look to the mirror, my first chance to examine the new curves that are delighting my companion. I had to agree with his assessment. A slight runner's build with modest but perky breasts and a firm bubbled behind that tapered nicely into a narrow waist to create an hourglass figure. I would do me.

Not lingering on my reflection, I return to the task at hand, my fingers going to his belt. I've only got four hours like this and I want to experience everything this body can do. Seizing the waistband, I tug his pants and boxers down as I crouch, bringing myself face to face with his cock in one sudden motion.

His cock points at me in accusation, nearly touching my nose. Nicely shaped and more than adequate size, although I'm pretty sure he's a little bit smaller than I was. No, he was definitely an inch shorter than I was. One hundred percent. But certainly enough to satisfy this virgin body. Fuck, can I really do this? Sure, I'm a women right now, and I bet it would feel amazing, but can I really take cock? Doesn't that make me a slut?

A drop of precum forms on his slit. My tongue flicks out like a snake to catch it. Fuck, what did I just do? The taste: it's not the worst I guess.

"Ashley?" He looks down at me expectantly. "Go on."

My tongue flicks out again. Another lick, tip to slit. It jumps slightly, twitching against my tongue and releasing more precum. He likes it! I reach out, tentatively taking his base in my hands. For the first time I look at my fingers. Thin, dainty even, they hardly wrap his girth. I hold him upright, licking his shaft from top to bottom like an ice cream cone. I rotate him around, repeating the maneuver on all sides until his whole shaft is glistening. I look up to see if he's enjoying it, not sure if I'm doing it right. Never been on this side of the blowjob!

He smiles, then reaches down and scoops me up, his arms hooking under my shoulders and tossing me into the air then catching me by my waist as I squeal at being thrown about. I wrap my legs around his waist and arms around his neck, even though he doesn't seem to need any assistance in holding me aloft. I lose myself in another make out session, dimly registering that he is walking us towards the bed.