Transgendence

Adam felt her wring his shaft in a fury. He was already too deep and his every thrust pushed deeper. She reached her fingers to pull downward strokes on his scrotum. The new sensation distracted him for a moment, just long enough to realise he was about to come, that inevitable place where she had him.

The softness of her bottom, her heat, her face turned sideways on the floor. Under the swathe of her hair only her mouth was showing, open, dry lips, then feeling his pulse -- a curling smile.

Adam pushed into Hannah again and a second tug of come erupted. Her fingers on his balls were too much. His vision darkened from the edges inward. He thrust again, spurted again. This was too much. Again.

Now it was Adam's turn to shake and for his strength to fail him. Hannah guessed as much as she felt his hand release her hips and slam at the floor by her head. He tipped forward onto her, her bottom the fulcrum of his balance. She was slender and his body slithered over her, his weight pivoting in her tight place.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, my love. I'm crushing you," he gasped. "I'm too heavy."

She lay immobile, happy to be crushed. Happy to feel the points of her hips sharp on the floor. His face by hers, his lips kissing the curtain of her hair. Listening to him breathe hard. "No, you're not heavy, you're inside me."

She was even happy to feel his softening penis pop out, wet in the crease of her bottom, little drops tickling their way past her sex.

'I think this skirt is a handwash,' she thought to herself. 'I wonder if he's got some trackie bottoms I can borrow? Poor skirt, such a pretty skirt. The designer surely never had this in mind, with its little sparkles and the soft blush of coral pinks.'

"Penny for them?" asked Adam.

He was smiling. She knew he was smiling by the change in his voice. She could feel the words vibrate through her chest.

"You're squashing me, Adam." She smiled back.

* * * *

"Do I look elegant in Nike For Men?" Hannah asked, making a barefoot twirl on the lacquered wood floor.

"My darling, I think you'd make sackcloth look elegant," Adam replied, curled up on his favourite sofa.

"That's your cock talking, Adam. Oh well. At least you have one of those swanking private garages, so no one could see me. Do you have a concierge here? Do you have to buy his silence?"

Hannah pirouetted once more and lay lengthways on the sofa, her head in his lap, her feet nodding over the comfortable curve of its arm. Adam stroked circles through her hair as she'd hoped he would, soothing her. She reached her hand to take his other hand in hers, and placed it on her breast, pressing it over her heart. She closed her contented eyes.

"Can I ask a question?" he asked.

"What?" she asked sleepily. She'd hoped she might have a nap here.

"Why did you want to keep your skirt on -- be dressed when you fucked me?"

Hannah opened her eyes in surprise.

'That's a good question,' she thought. She sat up and turned to face him, leaning back against the other arm of the sofa. She snatched up a cushion and held it to her chest protectively.

Adam raised both hands in a gesture of submission.

"Sorry, Hannah -- you don't..."

"No, I want to answer it." Hannah interrupted, but looked away from him. She glanced back, made as if to speak, but paused. She sighed and rubbed her hand again her forehead in one slow motion, as if to remove a stain.

"We haven't spoken much about me being trans. I think maybe you're frightened to ask because you're afraid you might offend me. I get that. I would be nervous too.

"When I still had a penis, before I'd really transitioned, I used to have lovers. I was never sure if I was just a kink to them or if they were gay or... too often the sex was rushed, incomplete. I was drunk, or high. It was my fault for being drunk and high. It was the only way I could fuck. So they'd fuck my ass. I wanted them to fuck me, be deep inside. My ass was all I had.

"So now. This is difficult -- no really Adam, let me finish, this... it's important. I need to talk this through. So now, I feel guilty about using my ass. It reminds me of that time back then, of having a penis and nothing else to offer.

"But it feels good. That's the thing, it feels so good. I wanted to fuck you again today, but to be honest, my vage was a bit tender after this morning. No harm done -- don't stress.

"It's you, Adam, you're... you don't boss or assume or judge. You're not like other men. I trust you. I trust you not to judge me for fucking my ass... or thinking... I dunno. Sorry. I'm not making much sense. Am I making any sense?"

Hannah finished and was chewing the edge of her finger. Hiding her mouth. Hiding her shame.

Adam reached to caress her hair with soothing strokes. Hannah rested her hand on his hand, but still looked away. After a moment, he spoke, weighing his words carefully.

"Hannah, you're a woman. I can't begin to imagine how difficult a journey it's been for you, but you made it. Here you are -- a beautiful, lithe, sexy and smart woman. You're Hannah, you're who I see, who I'm attracted to. You do realise -- what's the right expression, is it cisgender women?" She nodded. "Cisgender women have anal sex too, because, to use your words 'it feels good.'

"Nothing will change how you see your past and how it makes you feel now -- you're the only person who can put that into perspective. All I can do is be honest with you, to offer you a -- a landmark, if you will. As a man. I like your ass. Does that help at all? I'm touched that you talk about this with me and I'd die if I hurt you, said something stupid by mistake. Whatever happens, I won't lie to you about something like this.

"It's your body, Hannah. You're... you're seriously hot." He laughed. "That's my cock speaking! You're lucky to have such a lovely figure. Enjoy it now. Don't wait until..."

"...until I'm an old crock like you?" Hannah interrupted, giggling behind her hand. She peeked up at him, her serious mood broken, as she dared to tease and play.

"You complete cow! Yes. Don't wait until you're an old crock like me!" Adam laughed with her. "Come here, you!"

Hannah crawled over on hand and knees and they kissed. A kiss of friendship, and a kiss of love. She twisted to lie back in his lap, still giggling.

"Sorry," she managed to say. It was a few minutes before the occasional shudder of laughter left her shoulders. Adam smiled down at her, stroking her hair, thinking how fortunate it was their paths has crossed. He loved seeing her sleepy eyes, her messy, tousled hair.

"Can I ask about this?" Adam said. He traced his finger over a small white scar close to her hairline.

"What? The scar? Ha!" Hannah was genuinely surprised. "My sister threw a tin of beans at me in the kitchen. It was a great shot but it frightened her more than me. She started crying in fright, making more noise than me. So when Mum came in, she assumed I'd hurt my sister and shouted my name angrily. Then she found me the other side of the counter, sitting on the floor. I was wondering where all the blood on my hands had come from and it was on my favourite t-shirt too.

"My sister was grounded for a month. I had a lovely lady doctor stitch my head and call me by my proper name. I remember her face so close to mine and she was so pretty, but she looked tired and I felt sorry for her. I was twelve, I think, just a kid.

"And that's another secret you know about me. It was a lot easier to explain that than your other question. Can you stick to easy questions from now on?"

"I promise to try," Adam replied. They were silent for a long while, until Adam realised Hannah was asleep. He stayed silent a long time longer, gazing at the girl's peaceful face, then looked up to the natural beauty outside. The two seemed connected.

She murmured something, a burble of incomprehensible words.

"It's okay, darling. It's only the wind. Go back to sleep." Adam stroked Hannah's hair.

* * * *

"What's nice about this," said Hannah, having re-read the story all the way through to the end of the last scene, "is the way you two writers weave in and out of each other. I mean, I can see that you each have different styles, different uses of language and ideas, but I think I can see where you each add your own bits to the other's section.

"And what's also intriguing is the way you each write the other's character. I can see bits of you in your depiction of me, Jane, but there's somebody else there too. I'm your Hannah, but also his Hannah.

"And I guess Adam is the same, yours and his."

She contemplated Jane, who was sitting with a slightly dazed look on her face.

"And of course, you're both writing fiction, so none of this is real. But it is very intimate, all the same."

* * * *

Hannah stirred, and became conscious of warmth on her breast where his hand lay. Her hand had crept up near her mouth as she slept, her fingers touching her own lips. She opened her eyes and looked up to see Adam's gaze.

"Hello, sleepy head," he said softly, touching away a fallen curl from her cheek.

"What... what time is it?" she asked, not wanting to move.

"Just after six," he replied, glancing over to the clock in the kitchen.

"God. I went right off." She still didn't want to move.

"You did." Adam sat, not moving either.

Hannah couldn't figure out how long she'd been asleep. It must have been a while. She stretched and her body crackled. She felt dried stickiness between her legs, and suddenly all of the sex rushed back into her mind. So much of it, so much pleasure, so much of him inside her, so much of him...

"Adam, can I use your shower? I'm all a bit..."

"Sticky? Of course you can. As long as you like. I've got gas, instant hot water, so you can't use it up. I'll bring you a towel."

She rolled from him, turned back to kiss him.

"Go on, off you go, sticky girl." He smiled up at her with affection.

In the bathroom, Hannah peeled off the baggy tracksuit bottom and tee-shirt she'd borrowed from Adam, and looked at herself in the mirror. She saw a tall, slender woman with small, high breasts, a flat belly with a soft blonde fuzz at the bottom of it, and long legs. She turned a fraction, and saw an array of small bruises on her hips that hadn't been there in the morning.

She ran her finger tips over them, wondering where they'd come from, then smiled. Of course, in the woods. How had he known, to fuck her hard in the woods as she touched her blessed trees? She turned a little more, and saw the tight curve of her bottom, the long, taut line of her thighs. She ran a hand over her backside. Hannah looked over her shoulder at the mirrored reflection, as if seeing herself for the first time.

'Is this how Adam sees me?' she wondered. Hannah was usually practical, seeing her body as an essential thing, part of who she was, but she didn't often think about being seen naked, not by others. Many days, she didn't want to be seen at all. Beyond the bathroom door, she heard the sound of cupboard doors opening and shutting. Adam must be in the kitchen, doing what he did there. She smiled. He went on doing what he did, and Hannah was somehow comforted, knowing he was out there.

She imagined him, imagined him in a room seeing her. He'd gaze at her as she leaned on a window sill, looking out. She'd rest her weight on one leg, but he wouldn't notice that. He'd only see the place behind her ear where a little triangle of skin hid under her hair. He'd place kisses there like butterfly wings, soft and flickering.

He knew that place, he'd remember the cool edge of her ear on his nose. It wasn't a private space reserved for lovers eyes, because when she pulled her hair back anyone could see it, but only they'd know his lips had rested there. He'd turn to see her, but his eyes would be far away, seeing her some place else. A gentle smile touched the corners of her lips. He's thinking of me, and that makes him mine.

Hannah blinked and stirred from her reverie. She stepped into the shower, turning it up as hot as she could bear. Hannah felt the heat of the water flow over her. She let her bladder relax, and that stream was momentarily hotter where it ran on her thigh. She giggled, spread her legs wider and splashed her own stream further. 'Pretty good muscle control there, Han.' She thought of her grip on his fingers, and momentarily considered more pleasure.

"Greedy greedy, Hannah," she said out loud. Instead, she found a soap and lathered herself all over, washing herself clean. She realised, as she soaped herself, that now she'd smell like Adam. She was surprised how soft the soap was, then recalled how soft his skin was, in several special places.

"More sticky later," Hannah promised, then remembered Adam had said he'd bring a fresh towel. She rattled the shower door and stuck her head out.

"Adam," she called out, "you were going to bring me a towel."

"I was," he called back. "Just a sec."

Hannah turned back under the streaming water to rinse herself down.

A minute later she was done. She stepped from the shower and at the same time heard a knock on the door.

"Come in," she said, without thinking, dripping water on the floor.

Adam came in and handed her a towel. "Here, you dry your hair. Let me dry you, a special treat." He held a towel open. "May I?"

"Of course you can."

The towel was already warm. He wrapped it around her back, hiding her body. Hannah quickly rubbed her hair down with the other towel, then flicked it up and around into a turban, to get it out of the way.

Adam began to pat down her body, drying her.

"Arms up," he said, drying one arm after the other, quickly rubbing the water from her skin with the warm towel. He dried Hannah's back, running his hands down her sides, over her bottom.

"Turn around." The same, drying her breasts, her belly, placing a kiss on the back of her neck as he did so.

"Legs apart." He knelt, and efficiently dried her legs, up and down, taking care to dry the tops of her thighs and the intimate crease of her bottom, and it wasn't sexual at all.

"I feel like a child, being pampered." Hannah stood quietly, adoring the attention.

Adam smiled, reached for a gown on a hook on the back of the door. He wrapped Hannah in it, kissed her nose. "There, all snug and dry. Now shoo, my turn."

"No," said Hannah. "My turn."

She swiftly undressed him, turned the shower on and pushed him under it. She'd never felt more intimate, but it wasn't sexual at all.

"How did you do the warm towels?" she asked.

"Tumble dryer, five minutes."

"Well, that's how long you've got, then."

Outside, in the kitchen, Adam had prepared a range of nibbles and a bottle of wine had been opened. A pot was coming to the bubble on the stove, so Hannah dropped the spaghetti in and added the tiniest touch of salt to the pasta sauce. 'I could get used to this,' she thought, taking a glass of wine to sit by the window in the study, to watch the last of the sun fall below the horizon. She quite forgot about the towel for Adam.

Five minutes later she felt guilty for a second when Adam appeared from the bathroom, wrapped in his own dressing gown. He waved away her objections, then set about cutting bread, finding butter; while Hannah chopped and dressed a salad. Ten minutes after that they were eating.

"That," said Hannah fifteen minutes later, "was absolutely delicious. The whole day. Everything about it." She gazed at Adam, remembering that first moment in the gallery when he spoke. Was it only yesterday? It seemed much longer ago.

"Can we... can I..." She wasn't sure what she wanted to say, which wasn't like her at all.

"Stay?" he suggested.

Hannah nodded, suddenly shy.

"Okay." And it was as simple as that.

* * * *

"It isn't though, is it? It's not that simple, two people meeting. It can't be. Strangers and all that, not knowing each other. How would something even start?" Jane, being practical, wondered about that, and wasn't quite sure where to take the story next.

Hannah, with her more passionate nature, felt that every couple started as strangers; and really, what started is what happened next. She turned the keyboard towards herself and began to type. It was only a short coda, but promised so much more.

* * * *

Adam took the naked Hannah into his arms. This time it was for him, not the trees. His fingers were delicate where her butterfly landed, gently teasing her apart. She let him explore in the half light, and his tongue was soothing and hot.

"Don't hurry, Adam," she said, "we have time." She climbed a high hill and soared from the top and flew like a bird, and on the bed his mouth was hot on her sex. When she descended, he covered her swollen beautiful flesh, her shining song and his wet mouth joined together in a kiss.

He moved up, turned his hand over to cover and protect the very centre of her, and she was hot like a bird. Adam cupped her soft fur under the palm of his hand, two fingers within her hot lips, just resting there, feeling her pulse. Hannah closed her eyes and her thighs, trapping him there.

His fingers continued their steady walk. "Come to me, Hannah, come. Hannah, come to me."

Her breathing slowed, her heart beat with his heart's rhythm.

Adam looked into her eyes and was puzzled to see himself reflected there, then she looked away. He saw his wrist still clenched by her thighs, her flesh now wrapped in a swirl about his hand. He leaned closer to kiss her lips, felt her tongue as though it were his own, invading his mouth and hers. Her blood flowed in his veins, her breath in his lungs. He closed his eyes, smiling with one last sigh as she kissed him.

* * * *

Jane looked up from the sofa when she heard Hannah sigh. Hannah was facing the monitor, its light reflected in her eyes.

"Hannah? Are you okay?" Jane asked, setting down her cup and pulling herself upright.

Hannah turned to face her author, her love, her companion. Her fingers at the keyboard, making one final stroke.

"Yes. Better than okay, Jane, so much better than okay."

Jane saw the city lights of the night time sky, bright points of amber and silver in the blackness behind Hannah. The light shone through her hair, into her eyes, till all that was left was a memory.

She heard a small tone from the computer.

"Oh Hannah, Hannah! Oh my god, what's happening? Don't leave me! What will I do without you?"

Jane shrieked, stumbling from her seat, knocking over her drink, up-ending the coffee table. She reached for the computer where Hannah had been, pressing Esc-Ctrl-Alt-Del over and over, tears hanging from her chin like raindrops from a clothes line.

She stared at the monitor, disbelieving the text on the blue screen.

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