Holy Toledo

"Um, thank you," I leaned over the bar and I kissed him, right near his lips. Did he find me beautiful, no one ever told me that before, usually, I was stunning. I was just stunning someone, it didn't even sound like a compliment. Anja watched, shaking her head, the other two men waited, they were as surprised as I. But soon they were happy to be leaving with two 'beautiful women.' They were probably relieved I wasn't staying here with the bartender.

***

'A year has come and gone since we heard the news 'bout Billy Joe

And brother married Becky Thompson; they bought a store in Tupelo'

Tupelo, now that's where I really want to go, that's where songwriters always went first, then Memphis, then Nashville. I was going to Toledo, of all places.

I had the music loud, I was driving down an exit ramp off of Route 75, It was after seven, it was just starting to get dark. I drove over a bridge, the Maumee River. The city was nice, it didn't look like a bad place, and it looked quiet for a Thursday. I suddenly wished I was with someone, a man, someone to take control for me, show me the town.

I had to drive around, look for a diner, a bar, I had to pee and eat, in that order.

I parked on a large block, I was across the street from a bar called the Alleyway. I figured I would just go there, they had drink specials, there were people outside. I fixed my hair and makeup in my rearview, then took a deep breath, I would have to do this alone. I would just go to the bathroom and worry about food and drinks and ID afterward.

Anja taught me how to enter a bar looking for a restroom. "You walk in like you own it. You walk in with your New York attitude, you walk straight to the back. If you end up in the kitchen you have gone too far."

"Then what?" I would ask feeling myself get nervous, even though I was only under a bed in her apartment, I was a million miles away from a ladies' room.

"Then you ask someone who is holding a utensil, someone busy, they send you to the bathroom and then you are done. Mission accomplished."

So that's what I did, I grabbed my pocketbook and walked into this bar, which was longer and more crowded than I expected. I had my NY attitude in check, I was doing my strut, and there was a line.

The woman in front of me gave me that look, the don't touch me look, so I didn't touch her. I was on the line for about fifteen minutes, men were looking at me, my legs, and I smiled. I could have driven to a different city, could have been fifteen minutes closer to Nashville, but I waited in line. There were seven more women behind me when I finally got in the door. I was in and out, I didn't even look in the mirror, I took a deep breath and went to the bar, the bartender asked for ID.

I pulled the same ploy that worked in The Library, but he didn't buy it. He sold me a bag of chips and a Diet Coke and I went back to the car dejected. I got in, started it up to get some air flowing, get the music on, and opened the chips. I wouldn't be able to stay here tonight, it was too busy, too loud.

My car doors opened, a man pulled me out, I landed on the street, my ass and elbows taking the brunt of it. There were three of them, they were angry. They threw my bag at me. They cursed, I screamed, "My iPod." I screamed at the three men in the crappy blue Toyota. Someone came running up behind me as the car took off, screeching down the busy street. They threw my iPod out of the window, it was in the middle of traffic. The man next to me was carrying a bat, he ran to get it, dodging a couple of cars in the process. I still had my pocketbook around my shoulder and the chips in my hand. The bastards got my Diet Coke.

*

Anja had a way of avoiding trouble, she had luck, she had charisma, it was better than money, it was better than a pack of wolves. I had no luck or charisma, all I had was nice legs and thighs. I needed the pack of wolves, I could use some money. I could use some of Anja's luck rubbing off on my smooth lotioned hands.

My phone buzzed. "Sabrina, where are you now? Whatcha y'all doin'"

I didn't want to tell her, I didn't want to say my elbows were finally done bleeding. I was at a police station, I hated police stations, they were asking me too many questions. I was with a guy named Marco, the guy with the bat, from a bicycle shop. The last thing I needed was her worrying about me.

"Oh, just chillin' in Toledo." The Ohio cop just looked at me, he shook his head, this must be what New Yorkers mean by chillin'. He didn't like New Yorkers, he told me twice. "Let me go," I told her, "I ended up in the kitchen." That was the code word for going too far.

"Oh, Okay, try not to sleep in the car, you remember what happened the last time, bye-ee."

The policeman was still asking me so many questions, "What happened the last time?"

I made a face, I bit my lip, I called my mother. It was the second to last thing I wanted to do, the first was to tell that story to a cop. I talked to my mother using my femme voice. She didn't believe it was me at first but I wasn't reverting, I wasn't changing, at least not in front of the cops and at least not in this short skirt. I was becoming a woman, she would have to get used to it sooner or later.

"The police say that Trevor's car has no insurance."

"So?"

"Well, someone stole it."

So? That's Trevor's problem." She hung up.

The cop asked me to call Trevor, I didn't want to tell him he was dead.

*

"I know it's a little weird, but if you want you could stay at my house... I have a whole floor I use it as an Airbnb." Marco, the guy from the shop, he felt bad I lost my car. He watched me get pulled out of it, get thrown, he watched, he didn't want to intervene right away. He felt bad.

"Really? Okay, that would be amazing." I felt like I knew him, he has been with me for ninety minutes already.

"Yeah? Great."

We walked back to his store, CycleWerks Bicycles, he closed up, he said goodbye to his employees, and then we got into his car, with a bike attached to the back of it. He was probably part Spanish, probably in his thirties, thin and muscular. I felt bad he got stuck with a car-less crossdresser on a quiet Thursday night but his taste in music was pretty good.

'The only two things in life that make it worth livin'

Is guitars that tune good and firm feelin' women

I don't need my name in the marquee lights

I got my song and I got you with me tonight'

I had my eyes closed, I loved this song, I could make believe I was still on the recliner listening to my iPod, or even back in Brooklyn in a long nightgown, the bedroom door locked, under my covers in my mother's loud house. She would be fighting with her boyfriend. All the songs that played in that ugly blue car were always so sad, it wasn't even planned, but Waylon Jennings, in this pearly white Honda, was great, it was fine, it was better than fine. Good riddance to dead Trevor's lousy car with bad karma. I just wish I wasn't getting that feeling, the one I get in a car... with a man, with a backseat. While wearing a skirt and heels.

"So I don't understand, Sabrina isn't your real name?"

I opened my eyes, I felt my long lashes, I turned and looked at him, "It's not, I'm sorry."

"I don't think you have to be sorry. Um, maybe I do understand, I heard you yell at those guys who took the car." He smiled, he patted my hand. My other was feeling for the broken iPod in my black bag, I had it for ten, thirteen years, my father gave it to me before he died. It had thousands of songs on it, tens of thousands.

"You are dressed too nice to be hanging in a police station anyway. You DO know that."

"I do, I'm sorry again." He laughed, it would be fine. I hoped he really did understand.

***

After The Brandy Library, Jenson and Philip took us to a French restaurant. It was nice and fancy, we fit right in with our outfits. We excused ourselves.

"Did you see all those great looks we got walking through the dining room?"

"Mmm, I did."

"Love that." Anj was excited, she was happy hanging out with a different type of man, one that took us to French restaurants. Usually, we ended up in a loud bar with a college crowd drinking half-price well drinks.

We were in the large bathroom, brushing in the long ornate mirrors. "Excuse me miss, can you take our picture?" A woman in black was in the mirror, holding her phone toward me. "Your skirt is so nice, it's such a great color.

"Thank you, of course. Smile." I took at least ten pictures of the woman and her friends, there were a lot of them. It was a bachelorette party, they were posing by the gold couches and chairs in the ladies' room. They were all in dresses, they were all hanging over each other, they were semi-drunk and having fun. They were making me depressed.

"Here you go ladies, have a great time tonight." I gave them back the phone, I could tell Anja knew something happened, something in me changed. I didn't know whether I was gender fluid, trans, or anything other than some crossdresser, but watching beautiful women with friends, and having fun, it just broke my heart, it made me want to enjoy myself with them. Anja said I was probably a little bit jealous, but that wasn't it, it was something more, envious maybe? I didn't know, but it was a physical hurt, I could feel it. It replaced the warmth the bartender left inside me.

"Do you think Jenson will see those thighs tonight?" She was looking at me, she was fixing my hair, she even put more mascara on me. I was miles away, I was at a bachelorette party drinking Chardonnay.

"Um, I don't think so." I felt sad, she was trying to cheer me up. Those girls should have been 'envious' of me, I had the perfect friend.

She shook her head, and grabbed my hand, we went out the door, back into the crowded restaurant with subdued lighting. We stopped in the middle, right between all the tables, we could see the guys a little further away, they lifted their heads to watch us. We were surrounded by older men and women, a late dinner on a weeknight, leaving the kids with a sitter, wondering why two women were standing in the middle of the restaurant.

"Sabrina, are you wearing panties?" She asked me, a woman close to us looked at me, then her gaze made its way down to the place where my panties were at.

I put my hand on my breasts, "Me?" I was nervous, I didn't understand her plan. She was so loud.

"Yes you, I left mine in the ladies." She then bent down and looked at the woman listening to us. "We promised the boyfriends no panties tonight, I always forget. They weren't even on sale." She smiled and dragged me back to the men. I forgot all about the girls and the bachelorette party.

***

More Waylon was coming from above, invisible speakers, invisible guitar players.

'Through teardrops and laughter, they'll pass through this world hand-in-hand,

A good-hearted woman loving her good-timing man'

Marco's house was nice. It had two floors, he was on top, he told me I could be on the bottom. I was thinking how much I liked that idea.

He showed me through the apartment, it was quite big, he carried my bag into the bedroom. I had left two more in the trunk. One with books and various things from around my old room, another small one with underthings, lingerie, and gifts for Anja, that one I would miss. At least I still had my two dresses, pink and yellow, that Anja wanted me to wear.

"Okay, you're all set. You have the whole place to yourself. There are some things in the fridge."

I opened my bag, I had nothing to change into that wasn't fancy and ready for a party. "Thank you again."

He watched me as I looked in the bag, he was smiling, I must have had a dejected look on my face, I started to feel a little upset.

"Everything okay?"

"Not really, those three jerks got my books, and nightgowns and bras. Ugh!"

He smiled, he opened a drawer next to me. "There is some stuff in here, everything's clean and ready for the season. Though no one comes to Toledo at the end of summer, not even for the foliage." He chuckled and he went back upstairs, I could still hear the music, I sat on the bed.

"Hi, Anj, I'm at an Airbnb," I told her over the phone.

"Oooh fancy, I'm glad you aren't in that stupid car of Trevor's. I'm so glad you'll be getting a good night's sleep." I could tell she was a little relieved. "Imagine we are so much alike, we have the same cup size, same shoe size, almost even the same tastes in men." She started to giggle, we used to always fight over men. Who we thought was the cuter one, we even argued over the roommates. "But, I love a nice big bed surrounded by candles, and you love backseats. Backseats in your stockings, hah. Backseat Bree."

***

I did love backseats and I knew exactly when it started.

I loved a trip, a road trip, something long with views out the front and side windows. I used to say to my parents, I used to quote Jim Morrison from The Doors, another songwriter. "The trip, the best part, the part I like."

"Okay," My father would say, "Then get comfortable it's going to be a long one..."

A song would start in my head.

I was young I would be wearing stockings under my jeans. I found them years before, I would buy them at various department stores. I would walk in with a list and give it to one of the women working. "Here you go." And I would have four, seven, eleven pairs of thigh highs or stockings in a little brown shopping bag. I used to save up all of my money from presents, from my allowance. I told my mother I was going to the movies, going to Burger King, going to the arcade, but I wasn't, I was lying, I had to.

"Don't mess up my magazines." My mother would warn me from over the front seat. And I would try. She had so many, so many pictures, so many women in dresses and heels and stockings. Celebrities, models, women losing weight, I wanted to be the one on page seventeen. I wanted a dress like the one on the cover, I wanted nails bright pink, holding a man's hand like on page forty. I would curl up against the door, my legs under me, I always sat like a girl, I always got hard like a boy, I always felt my nylons rubbing against my pants. I would close my eyes and imagine, imagine I was listening to music, I would write songs, my parents would talk but I was far away. I was on a different trip.

'The trip, the best part, the part I like.'

***

Even Anja would tell you if she were here and you were listening, that our night with Jenson and Philip was our favorite. It was definitely my favorite. It was the night that changed my life or at least my perception of it. It was the night that completely sealed my sexual identity... and gender.

The four of us were walking on Hudson Street, a quiet Avenue. I was holding Jenson's hand, he kept on kissing the back of it, he kept on complimenting my nails. It was the end of May, I remember, it was almost four months before this trip to Nashville, both Anja and I just turned twenty-four and a half. She was getting ready to leave me, leave her handsome hard roommates, leave New York.

"It's quite late, should we take you ladies home?" Philip was looking at his watch, I was happily looking at mine. He was right.

"Sure."

Anja was hanging on him, he was enjoying himself, we heard two beeps. "Here we are." We were standing next to a big black car, Philip's car.

"You don't live here? In the city?" Anja was confused, she wanted to meet older men, with huge apartments looking down on Battery Park or the Hudson. Someone with an expense account, not part of the bridge and tunnel crowd.

"We live in Queens, Astoria, not too far." Jenson opened the back and I got in.

I could tell Anja was disappointed, but I wasn't. I was in the backseat of a car with a man. I was in a short salmon skirt with a man that gave me so much attention tonight, my panties were soaking wet.

He slid in and I slid closer, I put my leg over his. he put his hand on it and rubbed. "We could stay here awhile, it's nice with the windows open," I told everyone, I had my finger on Jenson's lips, I wasn't looking out the windows.

Anja turned back to look at me, I felt like I was looking at my mother, my father in the driver's seat, I was looking for magazines, I wanted to see if any of the women had my salmon color on. Any of them had the same hairstyle or nails. I was finally a woman on pages twenty-four, thirty-two.

"Phillip, let's get some more water, I'm so thirsty." Anja looked back at me and my date with a smirk. "Why don't you two have a little chat and we'll be right back." She giggled, she knew of my predilection for this type of coziness.

We watched them walk across the street, down the block. We were in the back of a car, in the dark, listening to the radio. I felt like a teenager, I pushed my breasts against Jenson, I put my hair into his face, I was more than ready to take this to the next level. I needed better sex than what I had been getting on the recliner. On some level, I was missing my old girlfriend. I was horny, I was ready, I would do whatever he wanted.

I looked at him, I knew he found me attractive, it made me feel special, it made me feel like a 'woman,' semi fake but close enough to a 'female' as I had ever been.

"Jenson, I'm not a complete woman, yet." I still had my fingers, my long nails on his lips and chin. He seemed smart and nonjudgemental, I had total faith in him.

He moved the hair out of my face, he looked into my eyes. I knew all he could see was a female, my lashes were long and thick, my liner was straight and blue, it matched my eyes. "Really. You are transitioning."

"Mmm-mmm, is that okay?"

And then he kissed me, he took my chin and aimed me at his lips and we kissed. I moved up slightly, my leg was now touching his cock, his hard manhood.

"So I am guessing it's okay?" I giggled. He seemed extremely happy and quite excited. "Would you like to finally see my thighs?"

"I would, Anja has been praising them all night."

I lifted the skirt, it was full, short, and loose, it made my ass look wider, more feminine when I walked. He slid his hand from my knee to my naked thigh. I repositioned and fixed my stockings, pulled them up as he watched, I stretched out my leg in the confined space. I thought I was so sexy, I thought I was such a tramp. I showed him my panties. The front was completely flat, it looked like a 'pussy' was hiding behind the white silk of my bikinis. I was tiny and tucked, I never worried about that part of my body, I was usually focused on my voice.

I was getting worked up as he caressed my legs, squeezed my thighs, then started rubbing my panties, I felt I lunged too quickly at his lips. I wanted his tongue inside me, I wanted to suck on something. Soon we were making out in the backseat, people from the clubs were passing, I didn't even open my eyes, I even forgot all about Anja and Phillip. Jenson pulled me on top of him. I sat on his legs, my heels pushing against the front seats. I had my arms around his shoulders and he played with my breasts.

"They aren't real yet. But they should still feel amazing. Others seem to like them."

He looked in my eyes, a sly smile attaching itself to his face. He rubbed, he kneaded, I guess he didn't care. He even grabbed one and put it to his mouth, he kissed and he moved it around his face. The nylon of my blouse, soft and smooth, he even did the same thing to the neglected one. He undid my buttons, soon I was in my bra pushing against his cheek, my chin on top of his head, I was bouncing on his hard cock, it was begging to be set free.

"Jenson," I whispered in his ear while kissing and licking. "Thank you for fixing my watch." And I licked his lips, kissed his neck. "I want your cock in my mouth. Do you think it will be alright here? Do you think anyone will see us?"

"I don't think so." He didn't care anyway, I could feel he was getting over-excited, I got off of his body and made him lean against the door, I opened his zipper. I played with him in his boxers, my nails tickling, my hand grabbing, measuring, and imagining what his cock looked like. I had never seen a man's cock up close, I was twenty-four and I only ever felt one. Well, four or more of them. Anja had been playing with cocks for years, she had a huge head start.