Chapter 42: In Our NatureWith steps that were more than a little precarious, I joined Agent K in the waiting room. Those shoes did an amazing thing for my ass and posture, but left me feeling like I was walking on stilts. What the hell had I been thinking, wearing these fug things? I could’ve given dy the sendoff she deserved without dressing like some goddam debuta her first ball.

  Damn Scooter and his goddamn drugs. With a well-ditioned movement I crossed my legs and smoothed down the skirt as I sat on the sofa o K. The ic’s mind-games exposed, I found myself terribly aware of how unnatural these gestures were, and how easily they came. A faint shimmer woven into the hosiery caught the light as I carefully crossed my legs and delicately folded my hands over my knees. Without the prosthetic these gestures became just a tad dangerous; st thing I wanted was to crush my nads, yeah? I was disc that it’s a hell of a lot harder to be properly dainty and femih cod balls trapped in silk.

  Agent K put aside the magazine she’d been idly leafing through. The motherly fa?ade fell away but a strangely enigmatic smile remained as she turo me. I briefly wondered whether she had known about Scooter’s as; grudgingly admitted that I’d probably never know; and that she would have approved even if she knew.

  “David,” she stated, as if determining my identity for the versation. “Nervous?”

  “Not really,” I answered. I ran a hand through my long hair and held it up for iion. “Anxious to get rid of all this nonseo be ho.”

  The er of her mouth twitched into a small smile. “Really? By all ats, dy has been quite fortable these st few weeks.”

  “Don’t believe everything you hear,” I said. “I’ve been saying since day one I hate this shit. A couple of weeks of being pampered ain’t about to ge that. I’m a man, K. I ’t tell you how embarrassing all this crap is. Once you get me settled down, believe me--I’ll never wear a skirt again. Ever.”

  “Not even for me?” she asked softly. Her smile grew by the slightest degree, turned just a little pyful and maybe--something more? “Would you py dy for me?”

  God, this woman was a tough nut to crabsp; I held her gaze and tried to read her iions--whether she was joking, serious, desperate or maybe just horny. Her eyes glittered darkly ahin smile didn’t waver. K’s pose was rexed and slightly mirrored mine, her weling nor chastising. But that curious half-smile, the suggestion of quiet ughter lurking behind her lips; what the hell was that all about? Self-depreg, or was she including me in a joke; was I the joke? I opened my mouth to answer; cleared my throat and gnced away.

  It’s a good thing my legs were crossed. In a skirt this tight there’s no hiding a boner. Damn this woman! She puts me in panties and drugs me and I ought to hate her but somehow she’s got me more intrigued than any woman I’ve met in years. A snappy eback: it’s all I wa that point but three weeks of pying dy seemed to have dulled . . . what? Certain rough edges, some of my icism? Or has it stolen my fidenbsp; Scooter’s assurahat the drugs would wear off quickly did little to ease my fears at that point.

  K’s hand softly resting over miartled me back to attention. “Has it really been that bad, being a girl?” she asked, her eyes turning by degrees more serious.

  “How the hell do you expect me to ahat?” I answered. “How I ahat?”

  “Tell me you hated it,” she said, her fingers sliding into my palm, pulling my csped hands apart. She held one up as if examining forensic evidenbsp; My nails caught the light in glimmering rainbow hues. “Tell me you hate having long nails and pying with the beautiful colours and how slehey make your fingers seem and how they ge the way you hold your hand.”

  What the hell? “I hate it,” I said, even as her soft touch drifted across the bay hand a a delicate shudder up my spine.

  “Tell me you hate the smooth skin,” she tinued, and her hand slid up my arm, lightly caressing my bared forearm. “The delicate sts that tickle the senses and sensual softhat weles every touch; do you hate that as well?”

  “I hate it,” I insisted. Her posture was gradually shifting towards me and she leaned closer as her hand reached to my shoulder and trailed a single nail along my bared colrbone and made me shiver.

  “This?” Her fingers outlihe bump beh my top made by the edge of the corset beh; her firaced the tour down my bad tickled the skih the tightly drawn ces. “And this?” Her other hand found my knee and softly khe flesh above through the silky thinness of the stogs. “Do you hate the feel of d silk against your flesh and how every touch seems magnified against shaven skin and--,” her hand at my back slipped down my side aed fidently at my tapered waist--,“the tightness, stri and trol, the flushed breathlessness and--”

  “More than anything,” I groaned, cutting her off, the pain in my groin growing unbearably. “I hate it.” With one hand on my thigh and the other at my waist, K faced me directly. Her face was close to mine.

  “Your makeup is beautiful,” she said. “Your face so very pretty.” She released my thigh to draw one fingernail along my cheekbone. “Those eyes sht and cheeks--flushed. Your lips fresh a and. . . .”

  She leaned close. Her lips found mine. She made an appreciative sound and exhaled as she pulled away.

  “Soft,” she breathed. K’s smile was more than simply pyful but still hi amusement. “Do you--”

  “Yes. Yes.”

  Her eyes held mine. She tio hold my waist. I felt pressure at my thigh again; it nearly made me jump. Softly but insistently her touch pried my crossed legs apart. Her fioyed at the edge of my stogs and danced up ohin garter strap and crept beh the taut surface of the skirt. With my legs spread my cock sprang free of its cy prison aed my skirt. K’s fingers coiled, one by one, around my member and held it firmly as it swelled in her grasp.

  “Tell me you hate it. Tell me you hate it all.”

  My hands, sitting limply at my side through all this, suddenly returo life and grabbed her by the side and by the back of the head. My fingers entahemselves through her hair and held her as tightly as she held my member. Throughout the st two weeks and those intimate moments I shared with Harry st night--through it all my cock stayed limp and cowed. Two months alone, bereft of intimacy, weeks without release of any kind . . . but a single gnce from this fug woman and everythi to attention and now--

  God, I haven’t wanted a woman this badly since--

  “Kiss me, David,” Katherine whispered.

  I pushed forward and nearly crushed her against the sofa. I forced my mouth against hers as my grip pulled her to me. Our tongues danced and her breasts crushed up against my fake ones. Her grip on my penis never wavered. I kissed her eye, her neck; her breath filled my ear aher hand stroked my nylohed leg. My hand slid beh her sweatshirt and fumbled for her tits. A throaty female moan reached my ears: whose? My thumb flicked her nipple and I bit softly into her flesh.

  K smiled a Cheshire grin, wide and hungry. Her eyes shoh delight. She brought her mouth o my ear and her voice flowed ay skin, searing, a siren’s call that was impossible to ignore.

  “Kiss me, dy,” she whispered.

  She pushed and I colpsed bato the sofa and she followed me down until she straddled me. Her lips found mine and she forced her too my mouth and explored with such passionate exuberance my toes curled in their delicately arched perbsp; I tasted her makeup and my own as well; our perfumes mingled and when she pulled away momentarily her st g to me possessively. Bloangled with her inky bck swirled at the edge of my vision as I sank into my training and into the cushion and an easy submissiveness. Both her hands roamed and caressed their way ay body now as her crotch ground against mine. I passively received the kisses she rained upon me. Her rough frottage sent a dull throb through my injured side but alsht me to an eager edge. She paused as she sensed my poised readiness. K’s lips--thin and pale--hovered an inch away from mine--pink, glistening, ready.

  “Tell me you hate this,” she said and smiled wickedly.

  I found her gaze and matched her smile. “I hate you,” I answered.

  Something flickered darkly behind those veiled eyes. “I know,” she said, and her mouth found mine for one final, passionate embrabsp; Our bodies collided and for a brief, intense moment I felt the ey of this crazy ressed against me. I shuddered and released a fierce grunt that was swallowed by her frenzied kisses. I came with an iy I hadn’t felt in ages. A moment ter she pulled away a me lying on the sofa.

  “I like dy,” Agent K said, standing over me. Her eyes danced ay body as I basked in the luxurious sensation of one of the stra but most needed fuy life. She smirked at the state she’d left me in. “I think you like her as well.”

  I smiled wanly, well aware of the image I presehe skirt hiked up over my stogs, my top at some time tossed aside leaving the corset beh exposed, the smeared lipstick, the thick goop dripping down my leg, and the tangled sweep of long blonde hair draped over the edge of the sofa; a girl well and happily fucked. From my reing position I watched her warily. “I don’t get you, K.”

  With slow, slightly awkward steps she walked over to Scooter’s desk and brought back a chair, and I wondered if she’d gotten off on our little enter as well. First finding and then struggling bato my top, I slowly pulled myself together. Whe across from me her expression was uedly serious. Wordlessly she passed me my purse. I pulled out a few tissues to myself up a bit and then started to fix my makeup. It seemed like a wasted effort, sidering I’d be heading intery soon, but I sehat K wao talk without interruption.

  “David, this will be the st time we ever meet.”

  I paused in my ministrations and my eyes flicked from my pact mirror over to her--and then babsp; I gave the slightest of nods and she tinued. I’d known this, of course, even as I tried to ighe fabsp; Once I was relocated into a new life there’d be no more need for a K in my life.

  “David, I . . . like you.” She sounded slightly annoyed by the statement. “The man I met a month ago struck me as an arrogant, misogynisti-of-a-bitbsp; He was cocky beyond belief and as desding as any man I have ever entered. This had no influeny decision to disguise him as a girl. You have to believe that. I still believe that it was the best way to ensure your survival at the time. But I ot deny that I took great pleasure in giving you breasts and pg you in panties.”

  I she pact shut and put away the lip gloss. My smile was sweet and shiny and didn’t reach my eyes.

  “But that same arrogahat coess, despite what you’ve been through. . . .” She looked away and sighed. “You excite me, David, in a way that makes me hate myself. That very arrogance I despise draws me to you even as it makes me want to try and . . . humiliate you and leave you somehow diminished.” She paused as if struck by a sudden thought. “But you know all this,” she added. “Even before the letter I left, you uood all this. I suspect that somehow you uand me far too well, David.

  “While I was away from the ic my thoughts turo you often--to both you and dy.” She smiled slightly after she said ‘dy’. “Strange how they seem two different people to me, though I see both sitting before me now.” She shook her head. “But I know that is not true, and strangely enough that may be what draws me to you the most. At first I thought it was because through you the opportunity existed to take my revenge on a man from my past . . . and then because of the desires I thought long buried that you awakened. Finally I discovered in dy not the debased male I expected but rather--,” she smiled weakly, “and I felt. . . .”

  The eyes she turo me were weary and sad. “These games we py, David, and all these self-doubts . . . these ghosts of the past that haunt us. Perhaps it is good thing that we will never meet again. But if we had first met, somehow, in a different pd time . . . I wonder. What would have happened between us, do you think?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know, K.”

  She tio look at me seargly. Ghosts of the past; she had no idea. Finished with my makeup I closed the purse. “You asked me if being a girl has been that bad,” I said.

  K nodded.

  “It has been,” I said. “I’ve hated it. But I don’t regret it, K. If I could go bad resider squealing on Steele, knowing what I’d have to gh . . . I’d do the same goddamn thing all ain.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “For you,” I answered. “Because it was the right thing to do.”

  With a hidden sadness of my own I watched her retreat, her expression turning bnk. Sometimes it’s easier to give away your own feelings than to accept someone else’s. K could grudgingly believe that she felt strongly about someone else, but being cared for iurn? No, not that. She couldn’t believe she deserved it. Even as she distanced herself, I tialking. I wasn’t really saying this for her be, anyway. Like I’ve said, at the end of the day it’s all about me.

  “You’re cool, K. I mean, you’re a total lesbo bitch, yeah, and you’re a ball-busting pain in the neck . . . but damn if that ain’t what I like about you. You say you’re attracted to the stuff in me you hate? And you hate yourself for that? Yeah, well I guess I’m the same, only there’s no guilt in my end. I guess I just like my girls a bit broken.

  “So you want to fuck with me out of some twisted o deal with the past? That’s cool. It’s weird . . . I mean, it’s seriously weird . . . but it sure ain’t b, K. And, God, have I ever been bored. Which is what it really boils down to in the end, I suppose. The other reason I’d do all this bullshit all ain.”

  “Why would that be?” she asked.

  “It’s been fun.” Her disbelieving gaze made me smile. “Seriously. K, I holy don’t think I could’ve sted at NeoPharm much longer. I was so bored. Holy shit, but I didn’t even know how bored I’d bee.

  “I mean, sure, I didn’t know it, not before all this started, but another year or two at NeoPharm, being that corporate cock-head I was trying to be? Yeah, I would’ve done something stupid eventually. I’d already started. I’m sure of it. Taken up some dumbass Extreme sport or developed a goddamn drug habit or started pig fights with street gangs in bad bars. Because, wow, that man you first met? That’s not me. God, that’s so not me. The arrogant son-of-a-bitbsp; Totally not me.”

  K looked dubious.

  I ughed. “Want to know the truth, K?” I leaned in close and spoke in a loud stage whisper. “I’ve been pying nice!” Sitting ba the sofa, I swept my hair aside so it wouldn’t get pinned beh my babsp; “I mean, shit, I help some bastard out and suddenly Scooter thinks I’m a good guy or something? God, you guys don’t have a fug clue . . . not even you, K. You don’t know me. You don’t know the real me. And you better fug pray you never meet the real me, ‘cus he ain’t a nice guy. Truth is, I’ve been pying nice for years and I don’t think I could’ve ha much longer.”

  When K didn’t interrupt, I khat I’d caught her i. Maybe she thought I was bullshitting her. Maybe she thought I was an arrogant prick with delusions of how hard I was. Or maybe she was waiting for me to spill secrets vest unsaid. She certainly was happy to sit bad let me talk.

  What was it about this woman that made me want to spill my guts? These weeks of stress, the drugs and the craziness of st night and, as Scooter put it, the very reasonable fear of heading intery--all of it was bubbling uhe surface, simmerih my skin, hotter than ever after the heavy petting session with K. I mean, hell, I was sitting there wearing suspenders and a bra, with my own cum drying on the inside of my shaven thigh and pink panties, sitting opposite a woman I might be falling in love with--how fucked up was that? No wonder I wasn’t quite right in the head.

  Still, no matter how giddy with booze or lust or worry you might be, there’s some stuff you just never share.

  So instead of tellihe whole truth about my past I grappled for a story. I’ve always liked telling stories. This on, I read around at Akiko’s one night. “It’s like that story--the oh the scorpion,” I expined. She looked at me strangely and I tinued. “You know, the fable?”

  K shrugged.

  “It’s the oh the--well, some stupid furry critter. Or a frog. Yeah, that’s it, a frog and one day this scorpion walks up and asks for a ride across a river. Now the scorpion’s ag all nid the frog’s not too clever and so they hop ier and start swimming across. The scorpion, yeah, it’s e a long way and it really, really wants to cross that river. It’s on a quest, see, headed for some wondrous pce or scorpion utopia or something. Doesn’t matter. So, it’s doing its damo py nibsp; And then, half-way across the river the frog feels a sting on its babsp; As everything goes numb and the frog feels itself dying, it mao croak: “but why? Now we’re both going to die.” And the scorpion, it just shrugs and answers, “it’s in my nature.”

  “There’s a touch of the scorpion in me, K, and I suspe you as well,” I finished.

  She frowned. “What are y to say, Mr Saunders?”

  “I’m saying there’s something fual to both of us, something bad, and we’re trying to ge but what we really o ask is . . . why? This is our nature; it’s who we are. There’s no point in fighting it. People don’t ge. People ’t ge, not who they are, who the really are, anyway. New names and faces are ohing, but if I’ve learned anything these st few weeks it’s this: you force me into a skirt and make me prance around like a fug cheerleader, you even drug me so that I’ll py nice, but at the end of the day I’m the same fucked-up sonuvabitch that I’ve always been and that’s not ever going to ge, no matter how hard you, me or aries.”

  K stared at me for a very long time, frowning, and I matched her gaze calmly. Eventually there was a beep from her purse. She retrieved her mobile. Her brow furrowed momentarily as she read a message. “I have to step out for a moment,” she said, and the face she showed me was coolly indifferent. “Jon will be back soon.” Even as she spoke, I could see it in her eyes, or rather in how she had difficulty making eye tact with me: she was detag herself; she was saying her final farewell. Once she stepped through the door, I really would never see her again, and I felt a profound sadness rise at the thought.

  “Good luck, David.”

  “K, wait!”

  She hesitated at the threshold. I stood and walked over to her. Even in these ridiculous heels I remained a little shorter than her. There was both apprehension and impatien her eyes before she gnced away. Taking her hand in mine, I gave it a squeeze. “I’ll miss you.”

  For a moment she was with me in the room once again, fully present and her fiightened briefly in my grasp. “You’re wrong,” she said, fiercely. “People ge!”

  K pulled away. She left the room, leaving me alone.

  Author's Notes:

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