Grand Rapids Girl Ch. 02

Author's note:

Many thanks to everyone who read and gave feedback on the first chapter of this story. I posted on a whim, not knowing if I would continue writing it, and the reception here has inspired me to keep going. So thank you!

An unprompted editorial note on the previous chapter: Espresso is typically brewed with dark roast coffee, not light roast. I am not a barista in real life. I just write characters on the Internet :P

Speaking of which, this is strictly a work of fiction in which all characters depicted in sexual situations are at least 18 years of age. If you're a minor, please do not read this and please get off this website. Also, please nobody steal my work <3

Anyway here's chapter two, featuring my first real attempt at a sex scene between two characters. Thank you all for the patience with me on getting this out; I'm reasonably happy with it and I sincerely hope you enjoy it.

I have some ideas for where the story will go from here, but feedback is always welcome. Let me know what you think.

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The remainder of my evening is a flurry that leaves virtually every article of clothing I own strewn around my apartment. There's a pleated skirt that I really want to wear but it clashes with the top that brings out my eyes and I suppose I could try to find a different top that works but my eyes are such an asset and it would be a shame to pass up on an opportunity for them to shine but then I'd have to find another bottom to wear and I really really want to wear the skirt but-

Finally I dig up a skater dress from the closet. It's light blue with a meshy area from just above the breasts up to the neckline. It ends at about the mid-thigh, and strikes me as the perfect thing for tomorrow. Not formal, but not exactly casual; not modest, but not exactly slutty. I pick out a pale yellow lace underwire bra that looks absolutely adorable peeking over the mesh of the dress, and hipster panties to match. With that, and some obligatory white thigh highs, I decide the outfit is sorted.

I spend the rest of the evening getting ready for tomorrow. A long bath and thorough shave; light blue nail polish that just so happens to match my dress. Before I know it, it's getting late and I should head to bed.

But sleep eludes me. It's still difficult to wrap my head around the sequence of events today -- I can't seem to quiet my thoughts. I guess I'm just excited. It doesn't help that I'm left debilitatingly horny between my frustrated efforts from earlier and my evolving fantasies about Luke. Eventually, I drift away into slumber.

The next morning passes quickly. I have my coffee while I do my makeup. Glamor is not necessarily my goal at the onset, but I can't deny a good wing, and some highlighter on the cheekbones is a must. Nobody would accuse it of being a "natural" look but it's certainly eye-catching, and I wouldn't call it whorish or anything.

It's easy to get a little carried away with makeup because I habitually hone in on every last flaw. My jaw is too square, my brow too pronounced, my forehead too large, my nose too big, etcetera etcetera etcetera. It's amazing how the insecurities start to jump out at you when you stare in the mirror for long enough. Insecurities aside though, having a reflection that I can recognize as my own and bear to see at all is, to employ a bit of poetic understatement, pretty cool actually.

Satisfied with my makeup, I finish the dregs of my coffee, brush my teeth, and get dressed. I briefly entertain the idea of heels. The issue is that I'll be walking to the restaurant, not to mention I feel quite tall enough as I am. With this in mind I opt for some black flats out of my limited shoe selection. One thing they don't tell you about being a trans girl is that it can often be a challenge to find cute shoes in women's 12.

My mom calls on my way out the door. I ignore it.

She has a lot of nerve, asking me to have dinner with her ex-husband. Her ex-husband who hurls slurs at me and thinks I'm delusional, an abomination. Her ex-husband who denies the reality that the "son" he never bothered to get to know is actually not, in fact, his son. I doubt I'll ever feel much like his daughter, either.

Whatever. No point in letting my parents ruin my day before it even starts. I have a date to get to!

It's a beautiful early September day in Grand Rapids. The sun shines high over me on my way to meet Luke, weather clinging to a decidedly summery 73 degrees despite the inevitable autumn lurking just weeks away. Lush greenery gives way to gray concrete below me, marking my path downtown on Fulton Street.

Rounding the corner a few minutes later, I see my date outside of the deli. Within seconds the butterflies are nearly unbearable. Luke is somehow even more handsome than yesterday, wearing a pair of fitted khaki pants and a navy polo. What's he doing on a date with me, again?

He sees me as I approach, walking to meet me in the middle. I catch him checking me out, and he just smiles brightly. "Hey there, good to see you again!"

Tongue tied though I may be, I manage to get out a greeting. "Hi, good to see you too!"

Nervously, my weight shifts from one foot to the other. "Um, should we grab some food?"

"For sure. I was thinking we could take it over to the park and eat there, if you want."

Cliché, maybe, but a great idea nonetheless. "Sounds good to me."

So we do just that; along the way he keeps doing the little things that men do when they're trying to be nice to a woman. I insist on paying for my own sandwich (after reminding him of his generous tip from yesterday), but that doesn't stop him from getting the door on the way in and out, or from deliberately walking next to me on the street-side.

I don't mind it a bit. It's nice to feel taken care of and it helps me feel more at ease. My nerves are clearly still getting the best of me - I know I'm quiet, too quiet to be an interesting date. I wish I wasn't so damn shy.

"You look stunning, by the way," he says as we make our way over to Veteran's Park. "I'm sure you knew that already."

"Aw, thanks." I don't believe him, but I'm blushing anyway. I glance over at him. "You're cute yourself, and far too kind to me. It's a dangerous combination."

"So which is it, do you like nice boys? Or dangerous ones?"

Not even 10 minutes in and he's already teasing me.

"Who says a boy can't be a bit of both?" I reply, making eye contact. "Also, it depends on what you mean by dangerous."

The gears are turning in his head as he turns to face forward. "Well, I try to avoid posing a genuine threat to the people around me, especially to women."

I nudge him with my elbow. "Is there a 'but' somewhere in there?"

"No. Were you expecting one?" He's looking at me again.

"No. Maybe. Just not used to being treated like I'm..."

"Normal?"

"Yeah."

"It might be too early to say, but you seem pretty normal to me, Maddie. A little reserved, maybe. A little hard on yourself, no doubt. But pretty much normal."

We've reached the park now. Luke finds a bench with a view of the reflective pool that lies in the center of various statues commemorating fallen service members. I sit down beside him, wondering how he manages to make me transparent. We literally just met yesterday!

Now that I think of it as I begin eating my lunch, I don't know much about Luke at all.

"So, you know that I'm a barista. What do you do?"

"I work in a hospital, Butterworth."

"Are you a nurse?"

He shakes his head. "ED Tech. Maybe one day I'll go get my license."

It makes intuitive sense to me that a man so calm and sweet would spend his days in the trenches of an emergency room. "Did you always want to work in healthcare?"

He chuckles. "Did you always want to be a barista?"

My eyes meet his in an exchange of knowing grins. "Touché. A job is a job."

We share a few moments of silence, focusing on our food. A woman walks her dog through the park. The yellow lab strains against his harness, determined to smell a tree next to the pathway. Dogs are the best; pure love and instinct, adorable and always amusing.

"Do you have a dog?" Apparently Luke has noticed my interest.

My dad gave up our dog to a shelter a few years back, in retaliation after I left the house. But Luke doesn't need any sob stories from me, not so soon.

"Had one growing up. An Australian Shepherd, she was precious."

"What was her name?"

"Dolly. My parents let me name her, and that's what my 14 year-old brain landed on."

"Like Dolly Parton?" He hazards.

A man of taste. "Yes, exactly!"

Luke leans back on our park bench. The rest of our lunch is mostly small talk. He's 26, grew up in a suburb of Detroit, and moved here with a friend for a change of scenery a few years back. He wanted to stay close enough to family that he can still visit often. I tell him about growing up here, but after I dodge a couple questions about my family, he gets the hint and doesn't pry.

Over the course of our conversation, I notice the distance between us has evaporated and our thighs are now against each other. I don't mention anything, and I sure as hell don't move away. Being close to him feels really good. It takes 110% of my willpower to resist laying my head on his shoulder.

With lunch finished, it seems like our date is reaching a natural conclusion. I'm not ready for it to end though.

"Hey, um, do you wanna go over to the art museum?"

Luke lights up, springing off the park bench. "Yeah, let's do it."

He offers his hand to help me up, which I take. Obviously I don't need it, but it's a good pretense for physical contact. We drop our trash in the bin and head off on a short trek to the GRAM. About halfway there I realize I haven't let go of his hand; I don't.

The receptionist at the front desk greets us with a huge smile. Once we've paid the admission fee, the museum proves to be a perfect way to kill time. We don't talk all that much beyond pointing out pieces and stuff that stand out to us, but I find an innate comfort in the way that we move through the space together. We never stray far from each other.

After a couple hours spent wandering around the museum, Luke offers to walk me back to my apartment.

If he walks me back to my apartment, he might want to come up. If he wants to come up, he might want to get intimate. I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to. But it's too early for that, isn't it? I don't want him to think I'm easy.

A voice in my head says inviting him up to my apartment doesn't mean we have to do anything sexual. That might be true, but it would be difficult to resist if he made a move.

"Madeline?" Luke's voice penetrates my internal monologue, seeking an answer.

I'm back on planet earth. "Sorry, I was just thinking. That would be nice!"

"Lead the way," he says, taking my hand again. It's a simple gesture, but God, I want him in my bed.

Anticipation builds steadily as we get closer to home, blossoming out from my chest throughout my core and limbs until my whole body is tingling. My pace quickens alongside my heart rate. Soon, we're on my street and my building is just down the block.

"In a hurry?" Luke asks, voice thick with amusement.

I slow down, letting go of him as I recognize that I'm practically dragging him along at this point. Whoops.

He says, laughing, "If you're trying to get rid of me, just say so."

"No no, that's not it at all! I just got carried away with... walking." I'm trying my best to look at him, but the sidewalk seems less mortifying.

"Uh huh. Walking. Right." I don't think he's buying it.

I stop to face him, gesturing in front of us. "My apartment's right there."

He's wearing an inscrutable look. "So, do you want to do this again sometime?"

On impulse I grab his hand again. "Definitely. Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to come up with me?"

By the look on his face I'm guessing he didn't expect me to offer. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I just want to talk a little more, is that okay?" He nods.

As we climb the stairs to my apartment, it suddenly dawns on me that there are clothes fucking everywhere. My first instinct is to make up a reason why he can't come in, but I'm in far too deep. I am compelled to at least preface our entry.

"It's just a studio so it's nothing special. Also, please ignore the mess, I went through like fifty outfits before I decided to wear this dress." I turn the key and open up the door, ditching my shoes and bag, rushing to clean up at least some of it.

"Hey, don't worry about it," he says, slipping his shoes off. "I'm not here to judge, I'm here to chat, remember?"

"Exactly." I'm in my closet, trying to stuff its contents back where they belong. "Don't you forget it."

"It's a nice little place, honestly." In my periphery I see him sit down at my little table by the window, the table where I saw his text which set this whole day in motion.

24 hours ago I was so sure Luke would vanish at the first mention of my transness. Now he's in my apartment and I can't help but smile.

With the place looking mildly more presentable, I join him at the table. "Sorry about that. I completely forgot about how I left this place."

"Looks fine in here to me. It's cleaner than my place, anyway."

My phone rings from my bag. "One sec."

I go over and check it and immediately put it back. "It's just my mom."

He rises. "Do you need to take it? I can go."

"It's fine, I'll call her back later."

That's her second phone call today. I already know what she wants - doesn't she think I would have called her if I changed my mind? Let's be real, she knows I'm not changing my mind.

Luke is standing closer to me, with concern on his face. "Everything okay?"

I need to stay present and forget about my mom for now. I don't want to ruin things with this date of mine.

I try to brush the phone call off. "Yeah. Do you need anything? Water?"

"Sure, I'd take some water."

In a flash I'm over in the kitchen pouring two glasses. Hurrying back to the table where Luke has returned to his seat, I hear him say: "No rush, I'm not dying here!"

Then as I'm setting the glasses down, "Not that I don't appreciate the table service. Way better than that Lyon Street place."

His joke doesn't land for me. "Oh, um, right." I'm out of sorts. It must be obvious if he's picking up on it.

"Maddie, are you sure you don't want me to leave?"

"No! Please stay. Sorry, I'm like, flustered. My mom and I are kind of fighting right now, but it's no big deal. Really."

"You're okay," he says, probably not realizing how much I needed to hear those words. "What did you want to talk about?"

What did I want to talk about? The things I want him to do to me? How much I want to please him? Get your mind out of the gutter, girl. I'm a mess.

"Anything! I figured we could get to know each other more. I just didn't want the date to end, honestly."

"Well, that makes two of us."

"Luke, can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

I don't intend to point out the elephant in the room, but my mouth makes the sounds before my brain has a chance to catch up.

"How come it doesn't bother you?"

"How come what doesn't?" I have a feeling he knows what I'm asking. Although I can hardly blame him for making sure.

"You know. Me being trans and all."

He hesitates. I clarify, "It's not a trick question, I promise. I'm just wondering."

"I don't really know, to be honest. It's kind of hard to imagine you as a boy." I wait for him to continue.

He's idly playing with his beard, clearly buried in thought. "When we met, I assumed you were just like any other girl, and I guess that perception didn't just go away after you told me."

He's so cute. "Sure, that makes sense. But like... you know I still have a..."

Mercifully, he doesn't make me spell it out this time. "I mean yeah, in the abstract sense I understand that. But again, it's hard for me to imagine. And maybe the fact that you're trans is supposed to scare me off, but... I don't know."

"But what?"

"But I'm very attracted to you and I'm not sure I can help it. Not sure I want to."

His deep brown eyes are holding me hostage. Rays of sunlight glint through the window, refracting off their irises. Is he a nice boy or a dangerous one? Either way, I am caught in his gravity and seemingly powerless to stop it.

"Is that so wrong?" He asks, leaning in.

"It depends on who you're asking."

"I'm asking you."

"If you're asking me, so far this only feels right."

Rather than responding with words, he closes the gap and plants a kiss on my lips. I am startled at first, but my brain is set alight, synapses vibrating with lust, sending frantic signals to the rest of my physiology.

"Did that?"

I nod and return the gesture. This time the kiss lasts longer - I wish I could bottle up the feeling and keep it forever. I'm losing my composure, so very close to throwing all conventions of dating and modesty out the window.

For a moment, we simply stare at each other. I wonder if he's as unsure of what's next as I am. There's a maelstrom of conflicting emotion raging within me as I'm struggling to decide how far this should go.

It's too bad there's not a piece of furniture somewhere between a table and a mattress in terms of how much it encourages and facilitates intimacy. Oh wait, a couch. It's too bad I don't have a couch.

Implications be damned, I motion towards my bed in the corner. "Should we move this over there?"

"Only if you're comfortable."

"It'll be more comfortable than these chairs, don't you think?" Does he understand how easily he could have me? How quickly I could be his?

He's sure looking at me like he understands. I hop off the chair before I can second-guess myself, bounding across the apartment. I'm jolted to a halt at the foot of the bed when Luke grabs me by the waist, his warm hands encircling me with a gentle grip. A yelp passes my lips before I understand what's happening.

He turns me around, instantly melting away whatever remains of my resolve, with his cute ass smile and that look of pure, raw desire in his eyes. He draws me tighter to his chest, his hands meet at the small of my back, and I'm left with nothing to do besides surrender to his kiss. My lips part slightly, allowing our tongues to get acquainted for the very first time; their tips touch in a timid tango. I try to memorize the taste of him.

"What are you doing to me?" I ask breathlessly, nearly whispering.

He kisses me once more. "They call it 'kissing.' Do you have any idea how adorable you are?"

I roll my eyes at him, playfully. "I think you're just horny."

"And if I am, whose fault is that?"

I allow my weight to fall backward toward the mattress. Luke follows me down, slowly resting on top of me. I snake my arms around his shoulders, pulling him even closer, his warmth like nothing I have ever felt before. Breathing deep, his musky smell is intoxicating.

He props himself up with his elbows on either side of me. "Is this okay so far?"

"Better than okay." I pull up to meet his lips again, fingers intertwining in his dark hair. Luke breaks the kiss and pushes me back down, holding me to the bed - not so hard that I couldn't get free, but hard enough to make me never want to.

This elicits a gasp. The butterflies in my stomach reach a fever pitch, swelling in my chest and making it impossible not to squirm beneath the man pinning me to my bed. I gaze up at him with pleading eyes.

"Hmm," He chuckles quietly. "You like this, don't you?"

I nod.

"Whatever will I do with you?" I can feel his bulge against my leg.

"I have a few ideas."

"I'm sure you do," he says before bringing his lips to my neck.

A soft moan escapes me. Luke's hands explore my body freely, each grabbing a handful of my small but full breasts. Light squeezes bring out more involuntary sounds, caused by the newfound sensations he's giving me. I start to feel lightheaded from an increasingly dizzying carnal desire for Luke.