Sasha Sours Can Cook 01

I'm going to beat you all to the punch and start out by stating that my level of crossdressing is ridiculous. Meaning you will have to call it something else and I would appreciate it if you could be as kind as possible. And I'm not saying my look is ridiculous, it's my frequency that is ridiculous.

To give my status a boost, I'm going to clearly state that I do go outside as Sasha Sours once in a while, meaning every other Tuesday or so. It took a lot of nerve, but I finally went out shopping to the pharmacy as Sasha Sours. It's just so much easier to linger in all of the fem care products aisles as Sasha then it is as Steve. LOL, I wait until the sun sets and one hour before closing, but I do it. And to my surprise, the cashier lady, Franny, stopped giving me the side eye and started to give me tips on my product selections.

Other than my Tuesday shopping trips, I stay locked away in my house like it's my own personal prison and dress twice a week for a few hours a night.

I'm not a huge TV watcher, but I do like my cooking competition show on Monday's and my true crime shows on Wednesday's and those are the evenings that Sasha comes out between 6 pm and 10 pm. My doors are locked, the curtains are closed and most of my lights are off as I curl up in my favorite arm chair to watch Chef Gordo throw pork chops across the kitchen and to make sure the cops get the bad guys two days later.

It's a simple life, but it's a happy life. I don't sit around my house on Monday's and Wednesday's looking like I'm club ready or anything, but I am in my arm chair looking like I'm waiting for you to pick me up for a casual date. And I don't think you would be too disappointed either, but if you want to go out to a club, well, I can do that too with proper notice.

Only, don't ask me out because I don't think I have nerve to do that, but if you happen to catch me at the pharmacy and you think my eye makeup is amazing, then please, say that. I've been painting model cars and planes since I was young and that made the art of makeup brushes a breeze to pick up on. LOL, shade matching was a bitch, but I got the hang of it after a while.

The rest of my time as Steve is pretty standard, I suppose. I have a good gaming system, so there might be a few folks on Thursday or Friday doing that. And because my garage has a side entrance, there is an absolutely huge concrete pad so a car can make the turn into the garage. And the concrete pad has become the "spot" to wash your car on the weekends. It's actually so popular with a few of my friends that they will use the large concrete pad to rinse off their vehicles whether I'm home or not. And I don't mind that at all and actually set up a shelf unit for the sponges, rags and plastic buckets.

There may or may not have been a few Saturdays when they thought I wasn't home and I may or may not have been hiding behind the laundry room curtains, peeking out, while wearing only my sleepwear and there may or may not have been a time or two when I decided to wash my jammies while I was in laundry room which would have left me in my bikini briefs only. It may or may not have been exciting which may or may not have led to a particular Saturday morning when I hid behind the curtains in a full lingerie set. Olive green, to be exact.

And by the way, just in case you're reviewing my Chang account wish list, I seem to like Earth tone undies as just as much as bright blue.

So, a few weeks ago I was curled up in my chair and was all caught up with Chef Gordo flinging duck at the red team and throwing a burnt steak at the blue team and the TV had to bleep out more words than not, when there was a knock at the door.

And OMG, because I was so caught up in the TV show that I just got up to answer the door without thinking and leave it to me to forget that it's Monday and Sasha elected to wear a pleated skirt tonight. And leave it to me to think that because I'm home alone and behind locked doors that no socks or leggings would be required. And SOB, leave it to me to be wearing my favorite Raspberry Red lip gloss. And WTF, leave it to me to answer the door like this.

And leave to Mark to pick today to unexpectedly stop by to borrow my old game box because his has been acting up.

And leave it to the two of us to be so stunned that neither of us said anything or moved for what felt like an hour. One minute, two minutes, three minutes and maybe up to four minutes.

I don't know who decided to leave it to me to speak first and say that I was rehearsing for Halloween, but leave it to Mark to mumble that Halloween was over 3 months away. And leave it to Mark to ask to come in so he could "check this out" before he grabbed my old game box. Which left it up to me to get over getting caught and fully opened the front door to allow him to enter. That was a tough moment, but I followed through and let him in.

Apparently, the leg moisturizer I have been using works and apparently, well, maybe I picked a bad Monday night to not cover my legs with thigh high socks or even knee socks for that matter. It was obvious that my legs caught his attention.

It took a while to get him settled down, which means that he never settled down, but I refused his request to play a quick video game. For one, forget it Mark, Chef Gordo is still pissed off and I know a trick when I hear one because for two, he wanted to see how high my skirt rose up when I sat down. And what I mean by that is, fine, you caught me and we're going to have to figure out how to deal with this and we will, but we're not playing hide and seek and by that, I mean he wanted to play a game of peek a boo.

And that's not happening, not that he didn't try, but not tonight, Mark.

However, after OMG forever, I agreed that he could have one beer just as long as he agreed to stop gawking at me, to settle down, to leave as soon as he finished his beer and to, hopefully, keep my secret. At least until the two of us can work our way through this issue. I know he was probably lying, but he agreed to my requests.

And I knew there was another trick coming when Mark offered to put our empty beer cans away as long as I showed him where I keep them. I mean, you know where I store the empties because it was you who suggested that the bottom of my pantry was a good place to store them until I returned them to the convenience store. Tricks, trick, tricks.

So why he followed me into the kitchen when the empties were in my hands was beyond me, but he and his trick was not going to be denied, apparently. For one Mark, you really don't need to be this close to me to point out where I should put the empties, you know, in my house and two, how dare you pat me on the ass like that and three, oh snap, I should always wear modesty shorts under my skirt no matter what day it is or what TV program was on.

And what I mean by "oh snap" is that even fem boy briefs allow for a little exposed and uncovered cheek skin and by that, I mean, OMG Mark, you just touched my ass!

Which left me a little confused. One side of my brain said that my protest level should have been high, but the other side of my brain said, huh, that felt nice and it all balanced out to a face-to-face standoff. And why he had to be taller than me so I had to look up at him was just a stroke of luck in his favor because it's not unusual for the guy to be taller than the girl, right?

It was a mere few seconds later when I realized that the middle of my brain decided to stay out of it because when he stepped forward and reduced the space between us to a little less than zero, I did nothing but continue to look up at him. And when I say less than zero, I mean I have only been this close to one other person and she was my girlfriend for two days last year.

When he reached around and cupped both of my butt cheeks, I quickly learned what doesn't work and that's trying to protect myself from a form of sexual activity by placing my hands between my crotch and his because OMG, he was humping the front of my skirt. My confirmation that it didn't work was how much he seemed to enjoy where my hands were and his cupping went straight to squeezing and pretty quick, I might add. In other words, this needed to end and it needed to end right now.

"So, are you leaving now Mark and by that, I mean I think it's time for you to grab the game box and leave and by that, I mean are you having fun grabbing my ass like this?"

"How about one more beer on the couch and you can finish watching that guy throw serving trays around like a weapon? How's that sound, ah, Steve?"

"Sasha. Sasha Sours and you're mistaken about this situation. You just happened to catch me during a private moment of how I chose to live a small piece of my life. I didn't call you and ask you stop by you know. However, now that you caught me out, one more beer won't help or hurt, but that's it. Then you leave, right?"

"Hey, I'm need to go to work in the morning just like everyone else, so yes, one beer, side by side on the couch and I'm out."

"Fine, one more beer, but on opposite sides of the couch. However, I need you to promise me that you will never rub off on my front like that again. That was kind of sexual, you know, and you're my car guy, not my, well, guy, I guess. And use the bathroom before you sit on my couch and by that, I mean check to see if you have a wet spot or anything. Did you want a sandwich?"

"Were you feeling around for a wet spot?"

"I was protecting myself from your advances. I did not move my hands. Just go check it out please."

"A ham and cheese would be great."

"Well?"

"Well, what, Sasha Sours?"

"Well, in the privacy of my own home, I think I have a nice ass, but that's just me. So?"

"It's soft, yet firm and it fit in my hands very nicely."

"Thanks. We don't ever need to speak of that again. Be on that side of couch when you come out."

Let me step back to "oh snap", right after I make a mental note that squats really do pay off. And I am known as the "cook" of our crew, so I'll make him a sandwich, but then it on to "oh snap" again.

Oh snap, since the day I bought this couch, I always thought it was to long for my living room, but now, it seemed so small and tight and in Mark's eyes, cozy. With every statement or request I made about keeping my secret and how he should get over this and why catching me dressed shouldn't change anything, the gap between us on the couch became smaller and smaller, to his delight by the way.

In fairness, I scooted closer as much as he did, but I had to carefully hand him his sandwich, right? I mean, my couch is clean and I like it that way. In his favor, I may have not noticed that our legs were touching as Chef Gordo distracted me as he was kicking one contestant to the curb.

"So, Sasha Sours, can I come over every Monday night?"

"I don't think that would be a good idea, Mark. I think it would be best if we just let this go."

"Well, a plate of your Chicken and Dumplings would be great next Monday. I'm just saying."

"I don't think so. I mean, Chef Gordo accidently threw a knife at the hot girl contestant and I missed it, so it's best if we let this go. Unless you might be hungry this Thursday and no telling the guys, by the way."

"Whoa, definitely, so we have a dinner date, Sasha?"

"No, you have an invitation to enjoy a good home cooked meal. If there is a game of the hour on TV, you can eat on the couch with a TV tray table. However, you should expect me to be in capri leggings or something. This type of outfit is very revealing and it wasn't meant to be seen."

"Invitation for a dinner date accepted. What the hell are leggings?"

"Well, like yoga pants. And by the way, I have a pair that says "behave yourself" across the butt, so, behave yourself."

"But tell you how good your ass looks in them?"

"Never mind all that, but cooking the dinner will require me to have my back to you while I'm slaving away in the kitchen. And by that, I mean it's considered rude to flat out say things like that, so your eyes and smile should do all the talking. And by the way, no talking about any of this. OMG, especially to Kenny. He loves my Chicken and Dumplings and if he hears about our dinner date then he will be here, right?"

"Did you just say dinner date?"

"I did not."

"Ah."

"Let it go, it's a common phrase. By the way, I think a good dinner date would be worth you coming over a little early to wash my SUV and by that, I mean dinner will be served at 7:30 pm and by that, I mean can we watch a vampire movie instead of the fourth game of the day? "

"Seriously? The Mud Hens are playing the Blue Birds."

"Well, it's Mistress Zula, Vampire Lesbian. And by that, I mean I have a black mini skirt and a red blouse, if that's something you would like. And yes, I wear leggings under my skirts, very much unlike Princess Zula. So, you'll be here by 6 pm to start with my SUV?"

I managed to get him out of house without much more incidences and fanfare and well before he felt that a good night kiss would be appropriate. Which meant I was going to have a busy Tuesday buying the ingredients, beer, Raspberry Vodka and a pair of distressed nylon leggings because they are very thin, but still offer a little protection and coverage. Oh, and a new kitchen apron because there is no way that there will be any splatter on my mini skirt or my red blouse. I mean, aprons that get worn get dirty and dingy quickly and he might pop his head into the kitchen and ask for a beer in the middle of the wash job on my SUV, right? I mean, appearance is everything sometimes, right?

The next two days were actually a little exciting. I'm somewhat impressed a guy and I was going to have a chance to cook him a good meal because I'm good at that and if he keeps his word, my secret should be safe. LOL.

End Sasha Sours can cook 01