Kasey's Confession Ch. 16

I agreed to meet Bob, but only in a public place, and only because I wanted to find out if he was the same Bob I'd met in my other life as Kasey. If he was, then he would be the perfect guy to help me fulfill my fantasy to suck cock. I wanted to avoid any craziness like I experienced while I was Kasey during my coma, and Bob was the most reasonable man I'd met and gone down on there.

I wore a shirt and pants to the meeting, which happened at an outdoor café. I sat enjoying a cold beer and eating a chef's salad when he arrived.

"Keith? Hi, I'm Bob," he said as he approached the table.

"How did you know it was me?" I asked and told him to sit down.

"I recognize you from, well, it is hard to explain. I've been having these strange, recurring dreams where I go over to your place, except you call yourself 'Kasey' and you are usually dressed up in heels and a skirt and, well, like a very sexy woman. Does that sound weird or creepy? I hope not."

"How did you know I was here? Not at the restaurant, but like in the real world?"

Bob sat down nervously in the seat across from me. "I ran into Derek, this kid I used to buy a pretzel from at the mall every Saturday when I brought my wife shopping. I have no idea how he knew, but he told me one day that 'Kasey is here, do you want to meet him?' He just came up to me when I was at the hardware store and told me that. Then he calls me at home one day. I have no idea how he knew my phone number, maybe off a receipt or something at the pretzel place, but he told me you went by the name 'Keith' and you'd meet me here today."

"This is really fucked up," I said.

"I know, I'm sorry, it's just that my dreams were so real like, and when he knew about them and knew you were here I had to see if it was true. And it is."

"Well, that is fucked up on its own, but I'm talking about the fact that I recognize you as well. Sort of from a dream, hard to explain, but where I remember you from your name was Bob."

"Well, this is already really bizarre, but I hope you don't mind if I ask you a personal question."

"No, go ahead."

"Do you ever wear short skirts and heels and, you know, dress as a woman and call yourself 'Kasey' sometimes."

"Actually, I do."

"I hope this isn't too forward, or creepy, of me to ask, but do you think you might be willing to dress up like that for me sometime?"

"How about tomorrow afternoon?" I asked him.

"Sundays are usually not very good days, as I usually have to do things with my wife, but she's going to be out of town with her sister for the weekend, so I'm free. Oh, um, I know we're just going to be, um, hanging out and so forth, but me being married isn't like a thing or anything for you, is it?"

I laughed, "No, that's totally cool. I don't know what will happen but what I don't want is someone getting, you know, too attached to me. I'm not looking for a boyfriend or anything like that. I just want a friend who I can hang out with while dressed and who really likes the way I look like that, you know?"

"Oh definitely, I understand, definitely, I'm definitely not looking for anything more than that."

After getting home, I began to feel more troubled by the existence of the tape that showed me sucking my co-workers cocks at a party. At work no one seemed to act in any way that would betray them knowing about it, or even remembering being one of those I went down on. It was, as Jeff had told me, something everyone involved wanted to forget about.

At least that was the case with the people I had worked with who had been there or participated in it. Sometimes one of the women I worked with who had been at the party would give me a smile or a wink and I'd wonder why. In all likelihood I was being paranoid, but what was continuing to gnaw at me was how Lisa and Chris had copied the tape and used it to blackmail me. Lisa had probably threatened to show it to people if I didn't stay with her. It was the most likely reason she held onto a copy, but with Chris I wondered how he intended to use it to keep me away from Erica. Did the threat of him showing it to her keep me away from Erica, or was it something more than that?

I called Lisa, which was something I went back and forth on and decided finally to just do. I wanted to know more about the tape, whether there were other copies aside from the one she'd given me and the one Chris apparently had. I just wanted to ask her about it on the phone, but she insisted we meet while talking very quietly to me as if she were trying to avoid having someone overhear her.

"Look, I'll meet you, but I don't want you to think this is some way for us to get back together again," I told her. "That isn't going to happen."

"I'm not trying to get you to take me back," she whispered. "I gave you my copy of the tape to show you I was letting you go."

After she hung up I felt good about how she had talked to me in a normal, adult voice, even though it was a barely audible whisper. At the same time I wondered if she was still playing some sort of game to "win me back" by acting mature and responsible. Why she insisted on whispering was another question, which I put off to the probability that there was a man at the house with her and that she didn't want him to hear her talking to her ex-boyfriend.

She insisted on meeting at a bookstore. The name sounded familiar, and when I got there I remembered it being a bookstore I had frequented in the past. When she arrived, she pulled me into the stacks of used books in the back of the store and whispered in much the same fashion as she had on the phone.

"That was my only copy of the tape," she whispered emphatically. "I know that's what you are worried about, but there is more to it than just that."

"Like what?" I asked in my normal speaking voice.

"Shh," she insisted, "keep your voice down."

"Why?"

"Just keep your voice down. There are other copies of the tape out there."

"I know that Chris kept a copy, probably the original, since he filmed it," I said quietly.

"Yes, but there are other copies," she whispered. "Did you watch the whole thing?"

"Yeah, I think I did," I said quietly. "I had to know what was on the tape, so I watched it, and then after the part where I, you know, did the thing with Chris the tape cut out and went to snow."

"There's more AFTER that," Lisa whispered, her voice getting much louder for a moment as she said 'after.'

"More? What else is on that tape?" I asked, suddenly feeling panicked.

"Just watch it and you'll see," she whispered. "I don't know who has the other copies, but I know Chris made some. I think he even sent it to some amateur porn site on the internet, but I'm not sure."

"Oh fuck, seriously? Who has the other copies?" I asked loudly.

"I don't know, but I can try to find out. I'm sorry, hunny bunny, I really am. I'm sorry about everything. I really do hope you find happiness with Erica or whoever you end up with. It was wrong of me to try to force you to stay with me. I see that now. I really do."

"It's okay," I told her. "I appreciate all the help you can give me in finding and destroying all the copies of the tapes. It would mean a lot to me."

"I'll do what I can," she said and started walking out of the store.

I followed behind her, looking around at the mostly empty bookstore and wondering why she'd wanted to meet there. We stepped out onto the sidewalk and she took my hand in hers and gently patted it with her other hand.

"Can you forgive me?" she asked, looking at me with sad eyes.

"I'm sure I will, eventually," I said.

She smiled ever so slightly and told me she was parked on the other side of the street. My car was right in front of the bookstore, so I said goodbye and got into my car while she crossed the street.

That was when a truck, traveling at a very fast rate of speed, appeared out of nowhere and hit her. She was pulled under the truck after it hit her head-on, giving her only enough time to throw up her arms in an ineffective defense.

That was how Lisa died. At that moment I stopped thinking of her as Nancy acting as someone else. She became a fragile and badly damaged person. She struggled to deal with who she was and with finding someone who would truly love her as she was. She had convinced herself that I was that person, but somehow let go of that conviction after I moved out.

The truck kept going, off into the night, and I never saw the driver, the plates, or even the color of the truck. All I remember was seeing was the words "Mr. Smith's Smoked Sausages" written on the side of the truck.

I rushed out into the street to see how badly she was hurt, not knowing she was already dead. The woman working in the bookstore came out and told me she had called 911 and explained what happened. I turned to her with tears in my eyes and said, "She's gone. She's already gone."

Later that night, after I'd gotten home, my phone rang. There were messages already on my answering machine, but I hadn't listened to them. My old friend Marci was calling. I knew we had been friends for almost twenty years and remembered us having dated in high school but it not working out. She had heard about Lisa and the accident and was calling to see if I was okay.

"I'm okay," I said with great sadness in my voice.

"Don't blame yourself, it won't do any good," she told me.

"I'm not blaming myself," I said. "I didn't push her in front of the truck or anything."

"I know, it's just that sometimes we blame ourselves for shit that we have no control over."

"I'm just really sad and really upset that she's dead," I told her after a deep sigh.

"I guess you don't remember," she said, "but that's probably a good thing."

"Remember what?" I asked angrily.

"It isn't important, don't worry about it."

"No, you brought it up, something about me not remembering. There is a lot of crap I don't remember and saying it isn't important is bullshit. What don't I remember?"

She paused for a long time and I continued to demand she tell me what I supposedly didn't remember. Finally she said, "You used to tell everyone you wished she would get hit by a truck."

I hung up the phone without saying another word. Then I threw the phone against the wall and fell face first across my bed. After about twenty minutes I got up and walked into the kitchen where I grabbed a bottle of rum and a glass. I sat and drank by myself for several hours until I saw it was four o'clock in the morning.

I picked up the phone and hung it back up. The receiver had come off the base of the phone when I threw it, so anyone who had called during my drinking binge had gotten a busy signal. Then I poured myself another drink, picked up the phone, and dialed Erica's home number. I didn't care if it was four in the morning. I didn't care what Chris thought, or if he was even there.

"Hello?" It was Erica's voice and she sounded wide awake.

"It's me," I said quietly.

"I heard what happened," she said. "I tried to call you but all I got was a busy signal, so I figured you took the phone of the hook. I almost drove over to see you but then I realized I don't know where you live any more. The last time I was at your place you were living at the motel."

"I kind of threw the phone at the wall after talking to Marci."

"Yeah, I figured as much. She told me about your conversation. It was stupid of her to tell you what she told you."

"Did I really used to say I wished that Lisa would get hit by a truck?"

"Baby, you used to say a lot of things, and you didn't mean most of them. You were usually frustrated and upset with her, and sometimes really angry about being with her, but you definitely never meant her any harm. I mean, you went back to her once because she tried to kill herself, so try to put it in perspective."

"I'm really drunk right now," I told her.

"That doesn't surprise me," she said with a slight laugh. "Do you need company?"

I thought about it for several long seconds. "I don't think that would be a good idea."

"Hmm, well, my being there with you when you are drunk and emotional and upset, yeah, probably not a good idea under the circumstances. I do wish I could be there for you right now, though."

I didn't remember ending the call or hanging up the phone. When I woke up, the phone was back of my nightstand alongside a half-finished glass of rum. I was still in my clothes from the night before, on top of my blankets and sheets, and I had a killer headache.

It took me hours to get myself back to feeling human again. I ate a big breakfast, took two showers, and sat on my apartment's balcony drinking nothing but water while I stared out at the people in and around the swimming pool my apartment overlooked.

The phone rang sometimes after noon and I was going to ignore it, but since I was passing it on my way to make a pot of coffee, I decided to answer it.

"Hello, Keith? This is Bob. I was just calling to see if we were still getting together this afternoon."

I was going to tell him I had to cancel our little get-together on account of Lisa's accident and my general feeling of sorrow and anger, but then I changed my mind.

"Hi Bob, yeah, um, something really terrible happened last night and I was going to cancel on you, but honestly, I could use some company this afternoon. That is, you know, if you don't mind that I won't be in the happiest of moods."

"What happened? Are you sure you don't want to postpone it to another time, maybe? I'll completely understand."

"No, I need something to take my mind of things, otherwise I'll just be depressed all day. What time do you want to come over? I'll need some time to, you know, make myself all sexy for you."

Getting dressed up and becoming "Kasey" became a much needed distraction. There was nothing I could do for Lisa. Her family had left a message telling me they were taking care of everything and to please "stay out of the picture at least until the funeral." They didn't think much of me, as Lisa had apparently told them horror stories about how I had been treating her during our three year long relationship.

I spent time tweezing my eyebrows, applied mascara and eye shadow I had bought, which turned out to be the easiest part of using makeup for me. It took me forever to get my lipstick on right. It would either smear, I would put it on too thick, or I would color way outside my lip line and make myself look like a clown. When I finally had it looking halfway decent, I decided to just stay with it and moved on.

I decided to be casual, and just wore a pink t-shirt along with a very short pair of white denim shorts. I remembered how, in my "other life," someone had told me to wear shorts that allowed a little bit of my ass cheeks to peak out from underneath when I walked. These shorts did just that.

I put on a pair of heels, but avoided getting too excessive. I wasn't used to wearing heels, so the pair I decided to go with were mules with a heel that was not quite three inches.

Just as I felt I was finally ready, Bob knocked on my door. When I opened it, his jaw dropped and he was obviously quite pleased.

"You are much more gorgeous in real life than you were in my dreams," he said.

"Gosh, thank you," I said, blushing. "Come on in. Can I get you a beer or something to drink?"

"I'll take a beer," he said as he followed me into my apartment. "Did you want to talk about what's going on that has you so upset?"

"Definitely not," I said as I handed him a bottle of beer. "Why don't we talk about you?"

"Well, not much to tell you really," he said while we walked to the living room and sat down. "I'm a married guy in his mid-40s, never had kids, work as a sound engineer for an independent record label, and I really, really think you have the most gorgeous legs I have EVER seen."

I giggled in response.

He had sat down on my couch while I sat in a chair across from him. I had decided to get us each a beer, figuring a little "hair of the dog" couldn't hurt. I crossed my legs and tried to have a very ordinary conversation with Bob, but the way he kept staring at my legs and making comments about how beautiful they were made it hard to concentrate.

I kept finding reasons to go into the kitchen to give Bob an opportunity to look at my butt when I walked out of the room. Then, after we started talking about music and what he did as a sound engineer, I decided to put some music on my stereo, which gave him ample opportunity to look at me from behind, especially as I had to bend down to operate the stereo and select CDs to play.

"Why don't you sit over here," he suggested as I returned from putting on the music, motioning to the spot on the couch next to him.

I'd started to feel very comfortable with Bob, as if we were just a couple of friends talking about our lives, our musical interests and enjoying a few beers together on a Sunday afternoon. This comfort level, combined with my being dressed in short shorts and heels, which Bob definitely appreciated, made me forget all about Lisa's accident.

As I went to sit down next to Bob I couldn't help but notice that his cock was standing at attention. It was all too obvious in the material of his pants. I could make out the outline of the head of his cock through the material and the thickness of his very hard shaft was also very evident.

I looked away after finding myself staring for several very long seconds. I took the seat next to Bob, kicked off my shoes and folded my left leg under my right as I sat, a position that felt natural and reminded me of the way many women I'd known would sit in a casual situation.

Bob had a very neatly trimmed moustache and beard and glasses that were almost invisible, as in they didn't stand out unless you were looking for them. He was very modestly built, around 5'10" with a man's physique with some slight definition in his arms that showed he kept in shape but didn't exactly work out.

As we talked I kept looking at his body, as well as the bulge in his pants, and wondered if I really wanted to be with a man sexually.

My "other life" felt like a fantasy that raged out of control, and while the videotape showed that under the right conditions I could get downright slutty, this was an entirely different situation. This would be completely by choice, as Bob wasn't pushing me into anything, but he was making it quite clear that he found me very attractive and would be up for whatever I wanted.

Before long, Bob's fingertips were gently running up and down my legs. Then I had both of my legs stretched across his lap and his hands were both moving along the full length of my calves and down to my feet, which he began lightly massaging.

"That feels so good," I purred out after giving up on my efforts to act casual and as if what he was doing wasn't having an effect on me.

"Good," Bob said with a smile. "I'm glad you enjoy it."

The way my legs were stretched across his lap caused my calves to occasionally rub up against his erection through his pants. Every time it happened, I would bite my lip to keep from making any sound that would indicate how much that excited me. It seemed to be happening with greater frequency, especially after Bob started massaging my feet, and eventually I couldn't hold back.

"Aaaaahhh... you are so... hard..."

"I had a feeling you'd like that," Bob said with a smile. "I've been hard since you opened the door. These legs of yours, they're too good to be true."

I swung my legs off his lap and returned to a sitting position next to Bob with my left leg again folded underneath me.

"In your dreams, what would I be doing at this point?" I asked with a smile on my face.

"You really want to know?" Bob laughed and put his hand on my knee. "The Kasey from my dreams would have been on his knees giving me head a long time before now."