Opening Up

"Sorry, sorry we're late!" James Cavell slammed shut his door and ran around the car to open the trunk. Mark hopped out of the passenger seat and just walked over to the school van. James started to get their weekend bags out of the trunk alone. He rolled his eyes -- he promised Mark that he wouldn't embarrass him, so he left him be when he started talking to his friend.

"Can I help?" Marlowe didn't wait for his approval. The teacher reached into his car and picked up James' backpack.

"I was going to get that," James admonished. He hefted Mark's bag. He closed the gate of the hatchback.

Marlowe held the backpack with two arms by one strap. Her arms crossed in front of her awkwardly. She huffed. "Sorry, we just--," Marlowe's nose scrunched, "I'm sorry, we just need to get on the road. I'm worried about being late."

"Yeah, I hear ya," James clicked his tongue. The kids were all finding where they wanted to sit in the bus. He put Mark's bag on the ground. "Here, let me get that," he said as he put his hand on her waist to keep her out of the way of the opening door for storage.

"Oh, um, thank you!" Marlowe noticed the smell of gasoline on him. She smelled fresh of vanilla and citrus. Her face turned bright pink. She looked down at James' hand on her side. His arms were thick and hairy. She gently tossed his bag into storage. It thunked as it fell in.

James let go of her and put his son's bag in beside before shutting the storage. "Presuming you're Miss Beausoleil?" He smiled. Marlowe nodded. He was over six foot with a close trimmed dark brown beard and short hair beneath an black baseball cap. His shoulders were wide and it was clear he worked with his hands and worked out. Chest hair poked out from his blue gingham button-down. His eyes were bluer than the sky.

"You can just call me Marlowe," she clarified. She was a little tall for a woman, maybe five-seven. Mark and his wife made James aware of the rumors about her, that she was a trans woman. She was pretty, that's what impressed on him. She had chestnut brown hair in a messy bun with a blunt bang. While she didn't have the biggest bust, her hips and ass were amazing. Her curves told him everything he needed to know. Her cheeks were dotted with freckles. It was still her first year at the school as a full teacher since getting her Master's. She was dressed unmistakably like a teacher with a fitted black cardigan, black jeans that emphasized her curves, and a dusty pink princess vest. The sneakers really drew it together.

"Sorry didn't meet ya on parent-teacher night since, ya know, the wife usually takes care of these things," James smiled. He extended his hand for a shake and Marlowe put her hand in his. "I'm James."

"Thank you for coming to do this for the kids, James," Marlowe smiled and put her hand in James'. For a moment, she forgot that they had to get into the van and dive north.

"Oh, I'm happy to. It's great Mark's doing this more academic stuff. I just never applied my brains that way," He let go of her hand. He gestured to usher her forward, "Wanna let him know I support him before college, all that parent stuff." He missed how softer her hand was. "I'm sure you'll know soon enough."

Marlowe walked into the van and sat in the driver's seat. "I've got my students," she replied. Her brown eyes betrayed a deeper melancholy. She patted her knees, then clapped her hands and told James to take a seat.

"Alright folks," Marlowe called back into the van, "We'll be in Philly in just a couple hours then we'll check into the hotel and get everyone settled in for the night!"

----------------

James looked up at the ceiling from his hotel bed. He stayed fully dressed. Before laying down, he emptied his pockets and put his cell phones, wallet, and wedding ring on the end table next to his desk. He let his wife know when they got there. Mark wanted to room with his friends instead his dad -- which Marlowe insisted was what she needed anyway. He had the room to himself. It was rare to be alone too long at home.

Marlowe was on his mind. He tried to insist his brain needed to leave the thought behind, but it refused. His wife was dozens of miles away. He laid in an empty bed. There was no harm in looking. He tried instead to think of her flaws and if he could pick apart something about her to make the rumors true in a way that would break her sexiness, but he just thought about her soft lips and pillowy ass.

James needed a drink. Anything to get out of his room.

Knock, Knock, Knock!

James sat up immediately and walked to the door. He peered through the peephole and saw Marlowe on the other side. "Hey, James? It's Marlowe."

He opened the door then blocked it open. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, of course. Kids are in their rooms," Marlowe looked down at the door frame. Some of the hair meant for her bun fell loose. It tickled her cheek so she brushed it behind her ear. "I just figured I should check in with you." She crossed ab arm over her belly and under her breasts, hiking them up ever so slightly, to grab her other arm.

Marlowe took a half-step back. "Sorry, this is my first time doing one of these solo. I just want everything to go well, so I thought I should check on everyone since the kids should be down and," she sighed, "yeah."

"You really don't need to explain it," James put his broad hand up. Marlowe scanned the callouses and grains in his fingers. She pulled in her shoulders and lowered her posture. He looked down at her.

"Well, since the kids are down," his tone changed, "Why don't you join me for a drink. You can tell me how Mark's doing in history and I dunno, maybe relax?" He had a friendly smile.

Time smeared from that moment for them. James led Marlowe down to the hotel bar. He got a beer. She got a glass of wine. He failed to distract himself from the thought of her, from looking. But hearing about her first year at the school was nice. She asked him about his business. He knew she knew nothing about cars or anything mechanical. Her own car had been acting up, but it was nearing two decades old and was a hand-me-down His son was doing well in her history class and well behaved. One drink became two. Two became three. Three became more.

Marlowe relaxed. She'd taken off her cardigan, exposing her shoulders. James noticed the fringe of her lace bra popping up by her pits. "I'm still getting used to being on this side of things, ya know?" She took a sip of her wine.

"This is your first year at John Brown, right?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I was a student-teacher up here, actually, at Central, but then I moved down to Baltimore and found the job there."

"You've gotta be, what, twenty-eight?"

"Twenty-seven, but close."

James huffed and laughed into his glass, causing it to fog. "Jesus." He had two decades on her. "And you think your students are the only kids you're gonna have?"

"I mean, yeah. I don't really get to make that choice," she clarified. She looked at him with a forced, sad, smile.

"Any guy would be lucky to make you a mom, you're pretty and smart." James agonized over his voice. He didn't want to sound creepy.

Marlowe put her glass down. "You've heard the rumors about me, right?"

"I didn't mean any offense by it," James put a hand up immediately.

"I'm not offended, I just, like, there is a reason I'm not having kids and it's not because I don't want them or anything." Her eyebrows scrunched, "I'm trans."

James' face turned fluid. His features flowed through emotions and reactions, unsure of what to settle on. "Okay," he said and by the look on her face that was clearly the wrong answer. "Doesn't mean you aren't pretty."

Marlowe's mouth hung open. "But it means I can't get pregnant."

The moment hung over them. He wondered what the right words were.

"Like, I'd have a kid if I could. I have envy there. This is just a way I can play a role in kid's lives that aren't just my niece. I'd be a mom if I could be!" Her wounded, broken-glass eyes hid from him. She threw back her drink and got up from the bar. Her cheeks turned bright red as she turned away from him and made her way out of the bar.

"Shit," James watched her leave, but he realized neither of them had paid. He was forced to stay behind. He picked up her cardigan from the seat beside him, suddenly empty.

Marlowe tumbled into the elevator. She backed against the wall and a wave crashed into her soul. She forgot to push the button, or she couldn't. She struggled to hold herself up. She crawled on the back wall to keep the floor beneath her. She caught herself in the private moment and took a few deep breaths. She put her hand over her chest with fingers tented. Her nails dug into her ribs. Marlowe assured herself that she could apologize to James and sweep this under the rug. She closed her eyes and stopped thinking. Slow, deep, breaths. No tears allowed.

To her horror, the door opened. Her eyes opened wide, reforged in her seconds alone. James' silhouette filled the door -- all broad shoulders and brawny build. She opened her mouth to speak, but James stepped in the elevator and immediately said "Oh thank god, you're still here."

Marlowe straightened herself. "I'm sorry about that," she bowed her head.

The door closed behind James. He hit the button for their floor. "I pried, you're fine." He turned back to her and huffed through his nose. A couple of the hairs of his beard bristled. He handed her back her cardigan with a shove, "Here."

"Thanks," her nose twitched.

"I just wanted to call you pretty and not, ya know, make a whole damn thing of it." He pinched his nose. "I'm sorry, that's my fuckin' fault."

Her eyes were the size of the sky. He wanted to fall into them. She asked "Why did it matter to you to tell me I'm pretty?"

"Because you are? Do I need a reason to think a woman's beautiful?"

"You think I'm beautiful?"

The elevator dinged. They arrived at their floor. "Fuck, come over to my room? Or can I come to yours?" James put his hand into the door to keep it from shutting.

Marlowe's lip twitched. "Yeah, we don't want the kids to hear us in the hall. I guess come back to mine?" she offered. She stepped out.

James put his arm on her back as she walked past him and ushered her forward. When a strand of her hair touched him, he pulled away. She looked over her shoulder with her mouth half open in surprise. Her cheeks shown like pink suns. Her legs became weak again as she led him to her room. She opened it with the key card and stepped inside, followed by James. The door shut.

"Again, I didn't mean to pry, but I did. I'm sorry," James insisted.

Marlowe walked to her bed. She pulled her hair out of her bun. It fell to the middle of her shoulder blades. It was wavier than it appeared in the bun. "I'm a big girl, I'll be okay."

"But what I told you about," Marlowe sat down on the end of her bed and kicked off her shoes while she spoke, "--that I'm trans. I really need you to not, like, make that an issue?"

"Why would I?" James walked over. He gestured to ask if it would be okay if he sat down.

"You're serious? I'm a teacher. Wrong parent had it confirmed and I'm gonna get fired. I know, like, hormone and surgery are magic so usually people don't see it, but the second people know things change."

"You're my son's beautiful history teacher, that's it. Far as I'm concerned, that's it. Not gonna anything of it." James waved his hand in the air. Without permission, he entered her orbit and sat on the bed. His gravity shifted things. Marlowe found herself listing toward him.

"You really just want to call me pretty, don't you?" she smiled.

"I'm just calling balls and strikes, lady," James took off his hat. His hair beneath it was mostly salt with a smattering of pepper.

"James," Marlowe put her hand on his shoulder. She bowed her head to him. He looked down at her and put his hand on her thigh. "I'm really sorry."

"You really don't have to. Stop," he insisted. "It was a normal sensitivity."

She rested her head on her hand on his shoulder. He could smell vanilla and citrus. She chortled through her nose, "Were you saying you wanted to put a baby in me?"

Unlucky for James, his beard highlighted the red of his face. She noticed. "I mean, Miss Beausoleil, I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about it."

"I wouldn't want to make you a liar," Marlowe nuzzled her cheek on his shoulder.

James started to rub her thigh with his thumb. "Nothing's gonna change I find you pretty, Miss Marlowe. You're just a beautiful woman."

"Fuck," the teacher buried her face in his shoulder.

"Hm?"

"I'm a new teacher, I shouldn't hook up with a student's parent."

James put his hand under her chin and pulled her face up. Her brown eyes widened and stared into the father's soulful blue eyes. "We both want this."

They came closer. For a moment Marlowe thought the distance between them would remain. Somehow, an invisible barrier would come up or something would prevent them from touching. But nothing interrupted. Their lips collided first. He cupped her cheek. His fingers became entangled in her hair. Marlowe listed into his calloused, weathered fingers. They were large and powerful. His other hand gripped into the meat of her thigh.

Marlowe forced herself away from him, "What if one of the kids needs me?"

"They're probably asleep by now," he said between kissing her cheek.

She accepted the chaperone was right. Marlowe craned her neck for him to kiss her there. His beard was rough. The sharp hairs prickled her sensitive skin. She shivered. The teacher touched his chest and began to unbutton his shirt. James wrapped around her back and worked his way beneath her top until he touched the small of her back. His fingers were cold. She arched her back. "Oh, James," she moaned.

James grunted. He pulled her leg closer to him and pressed into Marlowe. Beneath him, she felt small. She ran her nails through his chest hair. The sound made her shiver. The married man cupped her breast and pushed her back onto the bed. She laid back. James stopped kissing her long enough to allow her to pull up her top. She threw it down onto the floor. The bra the teacher wore was white lace with a floral pattern over her cute tits. He cupped one and it wasn't a handful, but the feeling went deep into the root of his penis. The way she wilted at his touch drove him wild.

James let go long enough to toss his shirt. He undid his belt and pulled it off with a smack. He punched it into the bed beside her and leaned close to kiss her again. Marlowe put her hand behind his head and raked through his hair. "You're so fucking sexy," he told her. He let go of the belt. His fingers glided over her jaw line. He rubbed her chin. She drew his finger into her mouth with a roll of her head. His middle finger disappeared between her lips and she bobbed her head back and forth with bedsprings for help. "Fuck."

Marlowe could feel the masculinity coming alive in his pants. Her femininity was growing too. The anxiety of futures swelled despite his distracting touch. She stopped sucking on his finger and pushed him gently until he gave her space. She hooked her fingers into her jeans and hesitated. She looked at the ceiling for a moment. She let out a small, worried whine.

"It's okay. I want to see you." He must have read her mind. The older man pulled down his own pants. She looked over to see his boxer-briefly straining over the impression of his cock. "I bet mine's bigger."

Marlowe rolled onto her stomach. He couldn't see her smile until she started laughing. The curvy young woman brushed her long brown hair from her face. Her dark and sultry eye caught him. She paralyzed him. "You're terrible, James!" She grabbed a pillow. Throwing it, she hit his chest. "Ugh!"

Marlowe pushed her jeans down. The first thing James saw was her ass. In satin red panties, it was shaped like a heart. She wiggled while kicking off her jeans. He began to reminisce about J-Ello. His palm pressed against her once she was free from pants. "God, I've wanted to see this."

Over her shoulder, Marlowe asked "You like it?"

"I love a nice butt," he spanked her and the sound echoed through the room, "damn!"

Marlowe gasped. Her eyes rolled backward and her tongue lolled out. Once she had control, she hid from him. She kicked her feet playfully. "Fuck!"

"Thought you might be that kind of girl."

'Terrible!" Marlowe reiterated.

"Roll over," James commanded.

Marlowe whined. James licked his lips. She showed her belly. She demured, though she felt his gaze groping her. Marlowe parted her legs and proved him correct. Even with their underwear maintaining the slightest modest, his cock stood proud above hers.

James gave her no quarter. His roughhewn hand pulled on her panties and his finger brushed against her penis. "It's like a clit more than a cock, if I'm honest."

Marlowe's mouth hung open. She wanted desperately to be mad but after half a decade of HRT, she couldn't deny it. James rubbed his finger, slicked from precum, over the head of her penis. "So fucking sexy."

James pet her hair and kissed her. "Can I go down on you?" he asked. Though she moved glacially, Marlowe nodded.

She left her body. The way he flicked his tongue and savored her! The changes from hormones meant it wasn't getting larger than its semi-flaccid four inches, so James instead treated it like a pussy. He licked along the folds of her balls made a V with his fingers to expose the base of her small penis. His beard brushed rough against the pale and tender flesh of her inner thighs. She bit her index finger and massaged his scalp. "That feels so good!" Every syllable dragged like his tongue.

He dove lower, past her balls. He easily hoisted her for leverage. Marlowe smiled, "Fuck!" She kept herself clean at all times and the lasers took and semblance of hair. He sampled her pristine ass, biting it. He pressed against her hole with his tongue.

"I want to fuck you," he growled between her cheeks.

Marlowe beckoned him back to a kiss. He set her ass back on the bed. "Let me return that favor first." She removed her panties. He mimicked the idea. With a toss, he built a pile of his pants, shirt, and underwear. Her clothes were thrown about haphazardly.

James reared up on to his knees, Marlowe crawled to him. She peppered James with kisses down his body through his body hair. She took a deep inhale of his manhood. Marlowe stared at it -- its pride. Unlike her little penis, his was grand in presentation. He kept his pubes trimmed. Due to her attention, he was fully alive. She held it for a moment. His cock had weight. It had girth. It had length.

Marlowe swallowed her drool. She opened wide and popped the head into mouth. The first few times she kept her mouth barely lower than his cock cap. It tasted salty and savory. With a contented moan, her tongue vibrated along his shaft. Then he said, "That's a good girl."

With that encouragement, she lowered her head onto him until his cock touched the back of her throat. Their eyes met when his dick met her tonsils. "Oh, fuck yeah," he brushed her hair back and pulled what her could into a makeshift ponytail to witness her magic show. He loved slight-of-mouth tricks like the vanishing penis.

She slapped his cock against her cheeks. She kissed from head to root. She gave attention to his balls, licked them before popping them in her mouth one at a time and then both. They were hairy. His entire body had so much wonderful hair compared to the combined efforts of laser removal and shaving that left her far more hairless. She reveled in his masculinity.

Eyes closed, Marlowe held his cock and put it into her mouth again. She nodded back and forth, leaned from side to side, whatever tick she could imagine. It had been years since he had such focused and concerted attention. "Such a fucking good girl," he repeated.