Jo, T-Girl Goddess! Ch. 03

Fun in the Sun

Jo, T-Girl Goddess, Book 3

(Years ago I watched an adult movie which featured the late Camilla De Castro. I found the way she and her partner made love to each other very erotic. She was simply gorgeous and is the inspiration for my character, Jo, T-Girl Goddess!)

Jo blinked as she walked out the dimness of Fire nightclub and onto brightly-lit South Lambeth Road.

It was five thirty in the morning and she'd had a blast.

But, the club hadn't felt quite the same without Ricki.

They had gone to the club together for years, not as often as they would have liked because Norman had kept Ricki on a tight leash, but whenever they had had the chance they had torn the place up, whether it was a house or a gay night.

It was way, way out of the way for two East End girls, but the club, regarded by most as a cult classic, was as addictive as a drug. To avoid being hit upon by anyone else she and Ricki had danced with each other all night and no one seeing them would have believed that they weren't a couple.

They had behaved outrageously and no doubt several of the men, if they hadn't been lucky enough to pull someone that night, would have gone home with bursting cocks and pairs of very blue balls.

Since Ricki had left for Barbados several months ago, Jo had felt the need to come back to the club and enjoy its unique atmosphere and music...and hopefully miss Ricki a little less.

It had worked for several hours as she had gyrated among the regulars and had more fun than she'd had in a while.

But moments ago, the DJ had played one of Ricki's favourite songs and the emptiness inside Jo had threatened to overwhelm her.

Missing Ricki with a sudden, stomach-clenching intensity, she had needed to get away from the noise and the crowd immediately.

It had been better than staying at home, she conceded, as she filled her lungs with the crisp morning air.

She was glad she had made the effort to come, but she would never come again.

Not alone, certainly.

Now tired and hungry, she needed her comfy, king-sized bed and needed it right now.

When she had left home earlier she had intended to leave the club at six in the morning and take the Tube from Vauxhall Station, returning home the way she had come.

She had a valid monthly Zone 1-4 Travelcard in her purse and wouldn't pay a penny if she went home that way.

A cab from here to her Wanstead flat would cost her nearly £50, including the tip.

Having freed herself from under the burden of debt with Ricki's generous and totally unexpected £50,000 gift, Jo had vowed never to let herself be trapped again. She hadn't realized how much having a huge debt had affected her, until she'd paid it off and felt a weight magically lift off her shoulders.

She was trying to be sensible, trying to live within her means and not spend money unnecessarily.

But the idea of sitting in the back of a warm cab, dozing lightly, as the driver took her straight to her front door was so appealing.

Night buses, filled with drunken club goers, wouldn't be as comfortable, though they wouldn't cost her anything.

But she would have to change buses at Trafalgar Square and there would be no guarantee that the bus that would take her two corners from her flat would come before she froze to death.

She would be sensible, she decided...but not this morning.

Soon I'll be home and in my warm bed, she thought blissfully as she lengthened her stride and headed towards the nearest cab office.

Turning the next corner sharply, she narrowly avoided the punch the burly man in a rage threw at his cowering girlfriend.

Hell no!

Jo didn't even think twice before wading in and kneeing the man in the groin before he realized her intention.

As he went down clutching his pulverized balls, Jo grabbed his girlfriend's hand and made a dash for the N87 that had stopped at the nearby stop.

The bus was heading in the direction opposite to the one Jo needed, but getting out of the immediate vicinity was her main priority; she would worry about finding her way home once she had put some distance between her and the woman, and the raging man.

She let the woman proceed her into the bus and stood in the doorway, nervously flexing her thigh muscles as the man's girlfriend rummaged through her small bag.

"Do you need the fare?" she asked the woman helpfully, trying to curb her impatience.

How could the woman possibly have lost anything in such a tiny bag?

"No, I have a Travelcard," the woman replied, glancing fearfully over her shoulder instead of into her bag.

"If you have a pass, go on then, love," the kindly bus driver told the woman.

"Thank you."

Jo touched her Travelcard to the Oyster card reader and threw the driver a grateful, relieved smile as he closed the doors and pulled away from the bus stop.

Just as the woman's boyfriend managed to get to his feet and started stumbling slowly towards the bus.

He stopped, cupped his crotch and dropped to his knees again when he realized it was moving off.

Jo couldn't help feel a twinge of empathetic sympathy for him.

She'd experienced the pain of busted balls on more than one occasion and hated that she'd had to resort to kneeing him when she knew from bitter experience how much an impact between balls and anything hard hurt.

If there had been enough time, she might have tried a well-placed karate chop, but there hadn't been a moment to lose.

And the fucker was too big and strong to be beating on a woman, especially one this petite.

He looked like an off-duty bouncer.

Jo wasn't sure that it would have been a good idea to test her karate skill against his brute strength.

When they sat down on the back seat, the woman was still glancing nervously back in the direction from which they had come.

Jo suspected that there would be hell to pay, if the man caught up with them.

Most men would have been rolling around in agony, but he'd been determinedly trying to master the pain and catch the bus before it had pulled off.

"Thank you," the woman said as she let out an audible sigh of relief and faced forwards.

"You're welcome." Something about her stirred a flicker in Jo's memory, but the woman kept her head down and hidden. Wondering if the man had landed a few punches before she'd intervened, she asked concerned, "You alright?"

"I guess." The woman finally lifted her head and gave her rescuer a small, sad smile. "Thanks, Jo."

"Trisha?" Jo gasped in disbelief and hugged the other woman. "What the hell were you thinking messing around with that guy? The last time I called, you said that you'd stopped partying."

"It's a long story and I'll tell you about it later. First I think we should get off this bus before he jumps in a cab or taxi and catches up with us."

"Good thinking, Batwoman!" Jo immediately pressed the bell.

She had thought they were safe quitting the scene of the crime and the muscle-bound fucker, but Trisha was absolutely right.

All he had to do was jump in a cab, follow the bus route, overtake the bus and wait to board at the following stop.

The lower deck of the bus was empty except for the two of them and from the lack of sound coming from the upper deck, there were no passengers upstairs.

The driver looked days away from retirement.

There would be no one to rescue them if the man managed to board the bus.

Getting off the bus, they quickly crossed to the other side of the road.

Jo breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the flashing orange light just ahead, the beacon of hope to all hopelessly drunk revellers in London--a mini cab office.

She grabbed Trisha's hand and hurried towards it, feeling exposed without the cover of the bus.

It was only as they squeezed nervously into one of the mini cabs a few minutes later that she noticed that the bus they'd been on hadn't yet driven off.

The driver had either decided that he couldn't be bothered to drive an empty bus, or was running ahead of schedule and had stopped to regularize the service.

Whatever the reason, Jo was glad that they had made their escape when less than a minute later, a cab passed them, heading in the opposite direction, with the man and his bruised balls in the front passenger seat!

Jo and Trisha both instinctively ducked out of sight, although he looked too focussed on catching the bus ahead of him.

"Can we get off this main road, please?" she asked the driver. "Someone's following us."

"Sure." The young Asian driver didn't ask further questions, probably used to dealing with strange requests.

When he turned left at the next corner, both of his passengers breathed audible sighs of relief.

Jo felt sick as she thought of how close their escape had been.

She might wear heels and short dresses, but she fought like a man as several men had discovered the hard way.

But something about the man they had left behind scared her shitless.

He had been in a towering rage as he had thrown the punch at Trisha.

If Jo's sudden, timely appearance hadn't startled him and thrown off his aim, it would have shattered the other woman's jaw.

It would have likely been the first of many.

"Where the fuck did you meet that prick?" she whispered fiercely to Trisha, who was still visibly shaking.

"I-I met him in Lightbox tonight,"

The club was literally a hundred metres away from Fire, but had a completely different vibe. Jo and Ricki had once toured all the other clubs in the vicinity to see what they were missing and had unanimously decided at the end of the night that they weren't missing a thing.

"He got pissed off-f when he realized that I wasn't a r-real girl," Trisha explained. "Very pissed off!"

"But didn't you tell him straight up when you first met him?" Jo questioned.

Trisha flushed and didn't meet Jo's gaze before she turned her head and stared out of the closed car window.

She didn't have to say another word. Her guilt was written in every tense inch of her body.

Jo shook her head sadly.

Trisha hadn't changed in the years since Jo had last seen her.

Even when they were younger, Trisha had only lusted after 'ultra-straight' men.

She'd never embraced the 'specialness' of being transgender and had burst into tears if anyone had called her 'shemale' long before the term had become dépassé.

Jo understood the man's fury now, though she didn't condone it. Even in the brief skirmish she had subconsciously noted traces of the red lipstick he had been wearing.

The lipstick he had kissed off of Trisha.

A "tranny surprise" was funny, Jo supposed, in the porn world when male actors pretended to be shocked when confronted by a woman's hard girldick inches below her luscious breasts.

In the real world it was as unfunny as a heart attack.

And just as deadly if the surprised man was a homophobic fucker like the one tonight.

Heaven knew what would have happened if she hadn't rescued Trisha.

And heaven help both of them, if he somehow still managed to catch up with them!

Jo shivered and reached over to clasp Trisha's hand and the woman looked up and smiled her thanks at the gesture.

She had never thought that she was born the wrong sex.

She liked men and she liked being a woman with a girldick.

She didn't even care if they called it a 'cock', 'girldick', 'pussy' or 'clit'.

For her having one was the best of both worlds.

But for Trisha it was different; she felt that God had played a cruel trick on her by giving her the wrong body parts at birth. If she wasn't a real scaredy-cat, who grew queasy at the mere thought of the operation, Jo suspected Trisha would have had her girldick and balls hacked off as soon as she'd come of age.

***

Minutes later, both Jo and Trisha shivered as they alighted at Liverpool Station.

The cab driver was clearly unfamiliar with the east end of London and had been using landmarks to orient himself. It would have taken them twice as long to get to their destination as it would have if he'd had a better knowledge of the capital's streets.

Jo had decided to change vehicles rather than offend him by instructing him on which route to take.

As exhausted and as desperate to get home as she was, she'd realized that they hadn't done quite enough to cover their tracks. If the man pursuing her and Trisha had put two and two together, he might have gone to the cab office to make enquiries. He might have also charmed the sleepy-looking woman in the office into telling him that they had ordered a cab to Wanstead Station, which was three corners away from Jo's flat.

If he'd then jumped into a cab with a driver who knew the backstreets of London as Jo did, he could have been there waiting for her and Trisha when they arrived.

They watched the cab driver accelerate away when the traffic lights changed. He had been a little put out when Jo had shortened the journey in the middle of the ride, but she'd thrown financial caution to the wind and tipped him handsomely.

Hurrying to the first in the long line of taxis, Jo gave the driver her address and tugged Trisha inside when he unlocked the back doors.

Travelling by black taxi cost a ton, but Jo had to admire the driver, who looked no older than mid-twenties, as he took the quickest route to her flat, without using a street finder or sat nav.

It was the exact route that she would have taken herself.

She'd partied all over London in the wild days of her youth and had always been the one who'd stayed sober and drove her other friends home.

She knew the streets of the capital like the back of her hand and always joked that if she was ever desperate for work, she would take The Knowledge, the legendarily-difficult test that London taxi drivers have to pass and become one herself.

Her taxi would have been pink of course, not black.

She said a silent 'thank you' to Ricki as she paid the driver and then took Trisha's arm as he released the car door locks.

Ricki's gift had completely changed Jo's life.

Strangely, she had become more frugal than she'd ever been and now saved more than a quarter of her monthly salary.

The extra money she'd spent on transportation tonight was her first extravagance in a long time.

It was justified, she reasoned, as she and Trisha hurriedly climbed the stairs to her flat.

She'd caught the man unawares, but she doubted that she would be a match for his strength, if he had martial arts training, too.

Tonight hadn't been one for penny pinching.

It had been a close thing and she felt unnerved.

She wouldn't be comfortable until she was indoors with a stiff brandy in her hand.

***

An hour later, as they sat in her living room, Jo watched Trisha over the rim of the tulip glass as she sipped a double shot of Hennessey.

Trisha had opted for a glass of Prosecco instead, but it was clear that she was still hyped, despite the shower they'd taken together.

"You owe me at least a blowjob for the trouble you caused me tonight," Jo told her, trying to lighten her friend's mood.

"Okay." Trisha smiled and placed her glass on the nearby table.

Jo had been half joking.

She'd forgotten how docile the other woman could be.

But she wasn't about to say 'no' to getting her rocks off.

She put down her glass too as Trisha came to kneel between her legs and watched as the other woman delicately untied the sash of her bathrobe.

"Take yours off, too," Jo instructed. "I want you to play with yourself while you're giving me head."

Jo was careful to use 'yourself' instead of 'girldick'. Trisha had always avoided handling her sex parts as much as possible. She looked about to protest, but Jo shook her head firmly and said, "I insist."

Jo had felt the slenderness of the woman's body in the shower, but as Trisha dropped the bathrobe it was all she could do to keep from gasping.

Trisha had lost a lot of weight since she'd last seen her.

It wasn't unattractive--many men might think her even sexier than before--but she was clearly underweight.

Biting back words of shock and concern, Jo smiled instead and ordered, "Get on with it!"

There would be time for a discussion in the morning after they'd both had a good sleep.

Looking relieved that Jo hadn't commented on her near skeletal appearance, Trisha took Jo's girldick between baby-soft hands and lowered her head to it.

"I said that I wanted you to play with yourself, too," Jo reminded her.

As Trisha obediently reached down with her left hand and took her own girldick in hand, her hair fell across her face.

Jo brushed it back and over Trisha's shoulder, letting it fall in a shining near black curtain. She was of African, English and Malaysian descent and looked even more 'exotic' than Jo. Her hair alone was enough to drive men wild, but she had a beauty that matched her hair.

"Yess!" Jo hissed as Trisha teased the head of her girldick with the barbell in her tongue. "You haven't lost one bit of your technique."

Trisha gave a smothered giggle but didn't stop to acknowledge the compliment.

Jo picked up her glass, downed the amber liquid and rested her head back against the sofa.

If she wanted to come, she had to focus on the sensations that Trisha's expert hand, tongue and lips were creating.

Otherwise, she would shake the woman and demand the reason why she hadn't been taking care of herself properly and why the hell she'd put her life in danger tonight.

"Yes, just like that," she gasped, as the woman circled the head of her girldick with a wicked swipe of her tongue.

Remnants of the adrenaline that had coursed through Jo's body earlier still lingered and Jo felt a desperate urge to release it.

"Play with your pussy, baby." Jo lifted her head and watched Trisha's body convulse at her words. "I want you to come with me."

Trisha's movements became suddenly more urgent and intentional, and Jo felt herself teetering on orgasm.

Within minutes she and Trisha came almost together.

***

Even though she was exhausted, Jo found herself wide awake at she lay in bed with Trisha curled into her body.

It had been almost two years since she'd last seen the woman.

Trisha had been doing well at that time.

Something had clearly changed.

Jo had never met another transgender woman who seemed to hate her genitalia more than Trisha.

She'd even joked that she wouldn't mind having another girldick, if Trisha didn't want hers. Trisha had replied that she would gladly give hers to Jo, if she could.

She hadn't been joking.

Jo knew that some transgender women needed gender reassignment surgery before they felt complete.

Trisha might be one of them, but her expectations were too high and Jo knew that she would be disappointed at the outcome.

The last time they'd met, Trisha had started therapy and had seemed more accepting of her body.

Jo pondered for several minutes what could have occurred in the intervening period.

The crazy scenarios she conjured up soon created an ache behind her eyes.

Closing them, Jo willed herself to sleep.

***

It felt like déjà vu as Jo rustled up an English breakfast the next morning, with Trisha sitting up on the kitchen worktop where Ricki had perched on her last visit.

Except that Ricki's mouth had been going at nine miles per hour; Trisha had barely spoken a word since she'd had awoken.

"So, how is the dishy psychotherapist?" she asked with a laugh.

It was the one topic that usually brought a smile to Trisha's face.

Not this time.

The woman's face crumbled and she swallowed audibly before she admitted, "I'm not seeing him anymore."