Amiga ISO Collection/AmigaDemoCD2.iso/ASCII/TEXTE/SEX/ADULTSHARE/A/ASS14550.TXT

Text File | 1994-03-26 | 19.4 KB | 487 lines

@BEGIN_FILE_ID.DIZ
<Carolyn's story Chpt 4 part 1>@END_FILE_ID.DIZ

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Carolyn's story is Copyright 1994 by Christina Dyne and may not be published
in any form without the author's permission.

                -4-

    I was somewhat surprised to find that we were going out for dinner, I
guess I had just supposed that we would be eating at the house.

    That wasn't what Eric had in mind, however. John led me downstairs and
had me sit in the same love seat he'd been sitting in when I had first seen
him. He disappeared into a side room for a couple of minutes, and then had
come out and gone into some other part of the house. I waited there for what
seemed to be about twenty minutes, until Eric came out of the same room John
had first entered and came over to where I was sitting.

    He looked a little tired and he'd changed clothes since I'd last seen
him. Dressed more as when we'd first met, he now had on black slacks, a long
sleeved white dress shirt, a blue tie, black loafers, and a black leather
bomber jacket. I had to smile at the jacket, Eric was most definitely not the
conventional type.

    He took my hand and helped me up then stood back a step and made a
twirling motion with his finger. It took me a second to understand what he
wanted. When I did, I did a little pirouette, my skirts flaring out, and
smiled at him.

    "Very nice, Carol," he said, returning my smile, "you look lovely."

    I attempted to curtsy, feeling a little embarrassed. "Thank you,
Master."

    He took my hand and led me out the door. His car was parked in front
of the porch, it's engine already running. He led me around the car, opened
the door, and helped me in. I was glad that the car was already warm, not
knowing that we were going out I hadn't bothered with my coat.

    He got in and we drove off in silence. I had no idea where we might be
going, beyond assuming that it would be a restaurant somewhere, but I kept
silent and occupied myself by watching him and trying to figure out where we
were.

    He got on the highway and it wasn't to long until I recognized the
approaching Boston skyline. In all the time I've been out here I haven't
really spent much time in Boston proper, so I just watched the landscape as he
purposefully got off the highway and negotiated a series of one way streets.

    Eventually he pulled up to an old brick faced building. While an older
man in a funny looking uniform opened the door for me and helped me out
another, younger, man went to Eric's side, talked briefly with him, and then
got in and drove off. Eric took my hand and led me into the restaurant.

    Though it wasn't much to look at from the outside, the place was
amazing inside. Edwardian old Boston at it's best, brass chandeliers, large
leather wing back chairs, rich mahogany paneling, flickering candlelight, and
a huge fireplace, somewhere a piano quietly played. The table we were led to
was right by the windows, overlooking a snow covered park, and was enough of a
distance from other patrons that one had a sense of privacy. I'd never been
one to go to fancy restaurants much so perhaps I was easily impressed, but I
thought that this was one of the coziest places I'd ever been.

    Eric spoke to the man who seated us and then opened his menu. Not
knowing what else to do, I opened the menu I'd been given and looked it over.
It was filled with a bewildering array of options, most of them either
unpronounceable or things that I only had a vague idea of. I suppose I
shouldn't have expected anything as simple as steak or a salad, but it would
have been nice if it'd come with English subtitles.

    "Do you know what you'd like?" Eric asked me after a moment.

    "Do they have anything like a chef's salad?" I asked in desperation.

    "You're kidding?" He said, amused.

    I shook my head.

    "I suppose so. The chef will be disappointed, but I'm sure they can
make you a nice salad."

    A moment later the man who had seated us returned with a bottle of
wine, holding it up for Eric who nodded. The man then opened it and poured
glasses for both Eric and I. Eric lifted the glass and sniffed it.

    "Thank you, Frances," Eric said, still holding his glass.

    The man gave Eric a stiff little bow that for some reason seemed
German to me and then left.

    "To your beauty, dear Carol," Eric said, lifting his glass, "and to
your slavery."

    I lifted my glass, embarrassed, and held it as he clinked his against
mine. Matching him, I took a sip off the white wine and set the glass down.
I've never been much of a drinker, never liked the thought of getting drunk
and losing control, but the wine actually tasted quite good. Fruity and
without any heavy taste of alcohol.

    Eric smiled, probably noticing my nervousness. "Lighten up, Carol,
this is a celebration!"

    "A celebration?" I asked, trying to smile and at least look a little
less tense.

    "Yes, of course! It's not everyday that a slave gets initiated,
especially not a slave like you."

    "Oh," I said, feeling a bit stupid. Like me? That was good, it had to
be, but what exactly did it mean?

    Another man appeared next to our table, as formally dressed  as the
man who'd seated us had been and with a napkin over his arm.

    "Good evening, Sir," he nodded to Eric, "and Madam,"  he said to me.
His eyes ran over me, scanning my face and what of my body he could see. Very
quick but unmistakable. It was the first time since we'd come into the
restaurant that anyone had even looked at me. I had been beginning to feel
like an apparition, and I'd preferred it that way.

    "Good evening, Georges," Eric said, a hard edge to his tone.

    The man's eyes left me and snapped back to Eric. What had he been
looking for? Did he know? Perhaps, I thought, but did it really matter? Yes,
it did, but at least that wouldn't be dangerous. I couldn't imagine anyone
saying anything with Eric sitting right there.

    "Would you like to hear the specials tonight, Sir, or are you ready to
order?" The man asked, sounding for some reason like he already knew the
answer.

    "I'll have the usual."

    "Yes Sir," the man said, seeming a bit disappointed, "a t-bone steak,
rare, boiled baby red potatoes, and pea soup?"

    "Of course."

    Obviously this was something they'd done before. I couldn't understand
why the man seemed disappointed, but I had to admit to being a bit surprised
by Eric's order myself. I hadn't seen anything nearly as simple, nor
understandable, as a t-bone on the menu.

    "And for the lady?" He asked Eric.

    "She'd like a chef's salad."

    "A chef's salad?" The man said, seeming almost crestfallen. "Yes Sir."

    He glanced again at me, a small nod, and then left. I watched him
carefully as he walked towards the back of the restaurant. Quick stiff
movements, straight back, he seemed a rather odd man to me.

    "What's the matter?" Eric asked as the man disappeared behind a door.

    "Nothing Sir."

    Eric raised an eyebrow.

    "It's just the man, he was looking at me very oddly."

    "So?"

    "He knew."

    "Knew what?" Eric said seeming genuinely confused.

    I reminded myself that this wasn't something Eric would be used to
dealing with. "That I'm a TS."

    "A TS?"

    "A transsexual, Sir."

    Eric laughed. "Oh, that. What in the world makes you think that
Georges knew anything, or for that matter that he would care?"

    Now my cheeks were turning red, and I felt a little angry. "Of course
he would care! Who wouldn't? I think he knew because of the way he looked at
me."

    "Calm down, Carolyn," Eric said, his tone serious.

    "I'm sorry, Sir," I said, my anger draining out of me, "I don't mean
to act like such a fool. It's just that you've never had to deal with this."

    "You're right, I haven't walked in your shoes, but I can imagine that
things aren't always easy on you. You really need to get over yourself,
though. I've known Georges a long time, and he wasn't looking at you any
differently than he's looked at a dozen other women I've brought in here.
Besides, even if he did know, so what? Would it really matter?"

    "It could be... dangerous."

    "Dangerous how?"

    I shrugged. "People might say things, maybe even do things, I'm not
really sure. I imagine that some people could get rather nasty if they knew."

    "Imagine? So you don't know?"

    I shook my head.

    "Nothing nasty has ever happened to you because someone knew?"

    "When I went into Dunkin' Donuts to wait for you was the first time
I'd ever been in public as Carol." I hoped he would understand my meaning.

    "Oh," he said, seeming surprised.

    "I mean, there's been plenty of people who've suspected. That's kind
of hard to avoid when you look as odd as I do, but no one's ever known."

    "Have the people who've suspected been nasty to you?"

    "Sometimes."

    "So you always assume the worst?"

    "Yes."

    "Why?"

    How could he ask that? "You don't understand, Eric!" Oh shit, I hadn't
meant to call him that. I put my hand to my mouth. "Sorry Sir."

    "For what? Calling me Eric? That is my name, dear, don't worry about
it. I know who I am, I don't need a 'Sir' or 'Master' to remind me that you're
my slave. I thought John had explained all of that to you."

    "He said that I should ask you how you preferred to be addressed."

    Eric nodded, picked up his drink and sipped from it. "John has a
tendency to be a little to careful. There's a time and place for everything,
dear, address me as seems appropriate to the situation. If you're wrong, I'll
correct you. Understood?"

    "Yes Sir."

    He smiled. "And 'Sir' is not appropriate for this situation."

    "Yes Eric."

    "That's better," he said, setting his glass down. "You're right,
Carol, I don't understand. I want to, though, need to, so you're going to have
to explain. Why do you assume that people are going to treat you badly?"

    "It's hard to explain," I said, taking a deep breath.

    "I know, but you're going to have to try."

    Right then the food arrived sparing me from having to say anything for
a moment.

    Georges came to the table, a plate laden tray balanced on one arm. He
set a salad in front of me, set a napkin covered basket in the center of the
table, and then placed Eric's plate and a bowl in front of him. "Enjoy your
meal," he said before he left.

    Eric reached into the basket, got a hot roll, and attacked his bowl of
soup. I picked up my fork and started eating my salad. There seemed to be a
little of everything in it, and the dressing - I assume it was the house
dressing - was fine, but I wasn't really hungry. I probably should have been
considering I hadn't eaten in nearly a day, but I tend to eat on an odd
schedule anyway and I don't think my nerves were helping much. I picked at my
salad for a little bit and then set my fork down and got a roll.

    Eric had finished his soup, and was looking at me. "Not hungry?" He
asked.

    "Not really," I said.

    He nodded and started devouring his rather raw looking steak. "Maybe
you could try and explain what you meant to me, then."

    I tore small pieces off of the roll in my hand and ate them as I
wondered how I could make things clear to him. "In my day to day life things
are a little strange. When I meet people and have to interact with them
they're always a little confused. Sometimes they think I'm a woman, sometimes
they think I'm a man, and that's okay. Most often, though, they're not sure,
and that's a real problem."

    "How so?" He asked, sipping his wine between bites of red meat.

    "People don't like ambiguities, especially not gender ambiguities. I
make them uncomfortable, and that can make people very hostile."

    "And you think you're ambiguous?"

    "Yes, of course. Don't you?"

    He stopped his dissection of the steak for a moment and locked his
eyes on mine. "Ambiguous, Carolyn? Not in the least." He resumed his campaign
against the by now almost decimated meat. "But what I think isn't what I'm
trying to understand, what you think is. So people are hostile, and you think
that's because you're ambiguous?"

    "They're not always hostile, but it happens more than I'd like."

    He finished up his steak and stabbed a baby potato. "Have you ever
thought that maybe people would be a little less confused if you'd stop lying
to them?" He asked, pointing his fork at me.

    What was that supposed to mean, I thought, sure that I'd said
something to make him angry. Lying to them how? By not telling them the truth?
How could I tell anyone the truth? Then they really would hate me.

    "I'm sorry, Carol," he said after a moment, "that came out a little
harsher than I intended." He ate the potato on the end of his fork.

    "No, that's okay Eric. I'm just not sure I understood what you meant."

    "Let's see, maybe if I go at this from another direction." He at
another boiled potato. "How long have you been a transsexual?"

    "As far back as I can remember, I suppose. I didn't really have a name
for it until I was twelve or so."

    "Okay, how long have you been a woman?"

    "My whole life!" I said.

    He nodded. "That's what I thought. So why don't you stop trying to
pretend you're something you're not?"

    "It's not that simple, Eric." Didn't he understand?

    "Isn't it?" He asked, finishing the last potato and wiping his lips
with a napkin.

    "No, of course it isn't. What's inside my head may be female, but my
body doesn't quite agree."

    "Your genitals, you mean?"

    I shrugged. "Those too."

    "How many people get to see your genitals? I can't imagine that's
what's stopping you."

    "It's not just my genitals, Eric, it's all the rest of me as well."

    "Is it? You don't seem to be having any problems so far. If you're
getting looks, and you are, I assure you that it doesn't have anything to do
with your somewhat unusual status."

    "That's because I'm with you."

    "Huh? What does that have to do with it?"

    "You're kind of a shield. No one's going to give me a second glance
when I'm standing next to you. Besides, if anyone did think something about me
was strange, I can't imagine they'd say anything with you here."

    "You're right, of course, at least about the last part. If anyone so
much as looked at you cross-eyed I'd feed them their liver," Eric said with a
rather evil grin, "but it doesn't seem like I've been spending a lot of time
defending your honor, dear lady." Eric swept his arm across the room. "And as
for no one giving you a second glance, it seems to me that you attract more
than your fair share of attention. None of it negative, unless you wish to
think of lecherous looks as negative."

    I glanced around the room, something I'd consciously been avoiding
doing. He was right, at least partially. I caught a rather evil look from a
short blonde woman sitting at a table near the middle of the room, as well as
an appraising look from the man seated next to her. A man standing by the
entrance caught and held my eye for a moment as the woman he was with spoke
hurriedly with the man who had seated us. There were a couple of others,
mostly men, who looked away quickly as my eyes swept over them. I had no idea
what to make of it. Why did they look away? Why had the blonde looked so
pissed? None of this seemed good, and the restaurant had gotten far more
crowded than I had been aware.

    I looked back at Eric as he raised a hand and snapped his fingers. A
loud noise that seemed to cut through the sound of the quiet piano and the
noise of patron's talking, I had no idea what he was doing. I glanced around
the room again, and it seemed that now half the place was looking at us. Eric
picked up his glass and finished his wine, smiling mischievously at me.

    "Yes Sir," Georges said, having seemingly appeared out of no where.

    "A question, Georges, if you don't mind."

    Georges noticed Eric's empty glass, picked up the wine bottle and
refilled both our cups. "Certainly, Sir."

    "My companion here," Eric said, nodding at me, "do you notice anything
unusual about her?"

    Oh my god.

    Georges looked at me, smiling. "Unusual, Sir? No, there's nothing
unusual about her, at least nothing unusual for one of your dining
companions."

    Nothing unusual for one of his dining companions? Had Eric lied to me?
He'd said that he'd never known a TS before. No, why would he lie to me? It
didn't make sense.

    "Meaning?" Eric said, a touch of annoyance creeping into his voice.

    "Meaning, Sir, that it is well known that the White Knight always
seems to be with beautiful women. Many of our customers are not so fortunate,"
Georges said, shrugging "or perhaps they have different tastes."

    Say what?

    Georges had called Eric the White Knight!

    "So you do think she's beautiful?" Eric asked, watching me carefully.

    Georges seemed confused, looking first at me and then back at Eric.
"Of course, Sir. Don't you?"

    "Yes, I do, Georges. I'm afraid it's the lady who has her doubts."

    "You're kidding, Sir?" Georges asked, his voice a touch incredulous.

    "No, Georges, I'm not. Do you think she'd be one who would draw some
attention?"

    "Draw some attention? I'd certainly say that she's drawn my
attention."

    "Careful, my good man, you'll pull something." Eric said, chuckling.

    "Yes Sir. Will there be anything else? Should I clear away the dishes?
Some dessert perhaps?"

    "Would you like any dessert?" Eric asked me.

    I nervously shook my head.

    "I didn't think so," Eric said. "No Georges, no dessert tonight. If
you'll just clear away the plates, please."

    Georges started gathering up the plates. When he got to my salad he
glanced up at me. "Was there something wrong with the salad?" He asked Eric.

    "I wouldn't know, Georges, you'll have to ask her."

    Georges looked at me and I shook my head.

    "Perhaps Madam should eat a little more," Georges said as he placed my
plate on top of the others and left with the dishes.

    "He is right, you know. You eat like a bird." Eric said.

    "Sorry."

    Eric waved his hand in dismissal. "Doesn't matter right now. I seem to
recall that you were saying something about your body not being female? It
seems to me that perhaps that's not how others see you, is it?"

    "I'm not sure how others see me, Eric. I never have been."

    "No, I wouldn't imagine you have the foggiest notion of how others see
you. How many people do you think know that you're a woman?"

    "You and John. Georges, maybe."

    "Georges, Maybe? Jesus, Carolyn, what in the world does it take to
convince you? Do you really think that no one else knows? That no one else has
ever figured it out?"

    "There's some people I know who maybe have their suspicions." I said,
feeling defensive.

    "Have their suspicions? Surely you jest! I'd be willing to bet a whole
lot of money that they've got more than just suspicions. You're not that good
a liar, Carolyn, no one is. What you're trying to hide is to fundamental to
who you are. Maybe you're a great actress, I don't know, maybe you're able to
deflect some people, but anyone who knows you well has to know who you are.
The person sitting across the table from me didn't just come into existence
the moment we met."

    "No one knows me well," I said, the words sounding sad in my ears.

    "Because you won't let them?"

    "Yes." Simple and sweet, there was no other answer I could honestly
give him.

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<Chpt 4 continued>