Chapter 15: Proof of My ManlinessMy head felt like it was going to explode.

  There were all kinds of shit going on in there. I was furious with K for sendio that offibsp; Some part of me wao turn right around and take that fug kid by the throat ahe living shit out of him. I know Tim didn’t deserve it. He really didn’t. But I was still pissed off. Then there was a lot of self-loathing and disgust going on as well. Obviously. I hated myself right then; I really did. I mean, God damn it, I’d just kissed a fug guy!

  Foremost in my thoughts, though, was Ken. Ken was my first kiss. Believe me, that’s the kind of shit really mess you up when you’re a teen. What with all the other craziness going on at that time, dealing with that kind of nonsense just seemed really unfair. Now I’m thinking that maybe I never really dealt with it at all. Things were so crazy back then it was easy to take things you’d rather not think about and kind of push them off to the side and try tet. But you never do, I guess. You always remember your first kiss. Mine came from another fug guy. That was also the st time a guy had kissed me. Until tonight. Only tonight, he hadn’t kissed me; I kissed him.

  Or rather, dy had.

  “Did you get us a room, dear?”

  I gred at K as I stormed over to the car. ‘Heel-toe’ and ‘straight feet’ and ‘small steps’ were fotten in my anger. I was walking like a goddamn linebacker just then. “Yeah. Room fug 12,” I growled. I grabbed half the bags off the ground before remembering that there was no fug way dy could carry all that shit. “This way, Auntie.” I fought to get my voice bader trol, to push the anger back, and pretele with the weight of the luggage I carried. Two trips and we had s piled up outside the room. We worked in silence, but I could feel K’s eyes watg me carefully.

  I used the key to let us into the room. It took two tries; my hands were shaking. The motel room was like every other cheap-ass room I’d even been forced to spend a night in, with bad carpets and yellowing aper. Some uifiable, vaguely unpleasant smell hovered in the air. There were two single beds separated by a small et, a bathroom opposite the entrance, and some really bad art over a small table o a mirror.

  The moment the door clicked shut behind us I started to cw away at dy. The sweater nearly ripped as I tore it over my head; I had one heel on and the other went flying across the room when I kicked it off. My chest heaved with the hurry to be free of this feminine prison. I probably would’ve tried to yank those tits off, too, if there’d been a seam to find. I had the goddamn waist-cher half-unzipped and my jeans unbutto the crotch when K’s voice suddenly cut through my desperate effort.

  “David! What the hell are you doing?”

  I gred at her from beh a twisted mess of blonde hair. “This charade is over, K! No more dy. No more bloody ming about in fug heels!” I struggled with and yanked off the sed shoe. “I’ll take my ces with the killers, thank you very mubsp; At least if they get me, I’ll die with some goddamn pride!”

  I thought maybe she’d try to talk me down, et all angry and bossy. Instead, she just watched me thrash about. Slowly her lips started to twitch up at the edges. Her eyes sparkled with the effort of restraint. She couldn’t hold it in anymore: K burst into loud peals of ughter.

  “It’s not fug funny!” I yelled, gestig wildly with the dainty shoe still clutched in my right hand. This just sent her into deeper hysteribsp; She was nearly doubled over, clutg at her side. I’d never seen her ugh before.

  “It’s not funny, dammit,” I insisted. I caught a look at myself in the mirror. Brandishing that heel like a wicked on, with o popping out and that wig hanging over my face like a headbanger’s mop . . . I looked ridiculous. I couldn’t even walk with those jeans down around my knees, and my cock, overjoyed at the loosening of its bonds, strained mightily against its silky restraint. I slowly pulled off my wig and dropped it to the floor. Damn. I did look kind of funny, especially with my face all red with anger and those veins popping out at the temple. Hell, even I couldn’t take myself seriously, especially with all that makeup on.

  “Sit, sit!” Still struggling tain her posure, K gestured to one of the beds before half-stumbling over ts. She pulled a bottle out of a side pocket and tossed it to me. “Just . . . rex. Take a deep breath, David. Have a drink.”

  I didn’t need a sed invitation. I cracked opetle--Jack Daniels, God, this woman uood exactly what booze each part of this relocation required--and a moment ter she brought over two cheap pstic mugs from the bathroom. She swallowed a chuckle as I grimly poured us each a stiff drink.

  “Bottoms up,” I stated. We ked out mugs together and pouhe booze ba one. The strong burn of the whisky down my throat was exactly what I needed. JD was a manly drink. I really wao feel manly right then. Even as I sat there still wearing panties and hose with tits half-spilling out of a cy bck bra. I poured both K and myself a sed. We shot them back without a word, but I was very much aware of her eyes watg me over the rim of her mug.

  When I went for a third drink, she gently held back the bottle. “Care to talk about it?” She sounded halfway betwee K and Auntie. I was starting to wonder who the hell she really was.

  “Not really. No.” I pulled the bottle from her grip and poured myself another. She held her mug out for a refill. The third shot went down very smoothly. I wao get drunk. Check that; I wao get fug drunk. She hadn’t drunk hers, though, watg me curiously. “What?”

  K shrugged. “I am just gauging how drunk you have to be before feeling like you have recaptured enough of your mase pride to tell me what is wrong.” She raised her cup in my honour and drank it back.

  I really hated her sometimes. “Fuck you, K.” I refilled our cups.

  She looked around the room. “I thought I asked you to get us a single room?”

  “Who knew dy could be so persuasive?” I sneered bitterly. “The little shit ihought he’d do us a little favour. I think he liked me. Her.”

  “Ah. I see.”

  She didn’t. She really didn’t. “Don’t fug presume to know me, K.” We touched cups and solemnly knocked back our st drink. I screwed the bottle tightly shut and tossed it over onto her bed. The unseen cmp ed around my temple slowly began to loosen. I reached bad unhooked the bra as I talked. “You’ve got a profile on me. You’ve done all this researd shit. But you don’t know me. You have no idea what I’m feeling.” Without support those fake breasts bobbled free.

  K averted her eyes with only the slightest of smiles. “Then why don’t you tell me?”

  I tio gre at her as I crossed the room in my stog feet. I grabbed the bag that K packed for me and found a t-shirt. It hugged my curves and didn’t even reach my navel, hanging off the massive orbs it barely restrained. The nipples clearly poked through the thin material, dual punctuation oher side of the embzoned ‘Hot Stuff’ written in brilliant, sparkly pink. Fug hell.

  Without answering her I stomped into the toilet and smmed the door behind me. I peeled off the jeans and those damn pantyhose and tossed the panties in the er. My bdder was screaming for relief, as were my balls. After a particurly angry bout of masturbation I ed myself off, ed myself in a towel and stormed back up to K. She was still sitting where I had left her.

  “You have any idea how this is fug with my head, K?” She watched me from her seat as I stalked bad forth across the room, ranting as I went. In a torrent of angry words I expined what had happened ba the motel office, about Tim and dy. She waited patiently for me to finish. When I finally flopped down onto the bed she handed me another drink. I hadn’t even seen her pick up the bottle. I certainly didn’t feel it but suspected I was getting very, very drunk.

  “I don’t want to dress up and act like a chiymore, K!”

  “Very few men would want to do what you are doing, David,” K said. Her voice was calm and soothing, motherly once again. “And even fewer could ma half as well as you have so far. I already told you: you are doing very well. You do this, Mr Saunders.”

  “That’s easy for you to say, K.”

  “I realize that.” She hesitated a moment. “Tell me, what was it that made you so angry? Was it the kiss?”

  I felt my face redden and glowered at her. “What the fuck do you think? Yeah, that’s damn well part of it. A big part of it.”

  “But it was just a little kiss to the cheek, right? How is that a big deal?”

  “It’s a big deal to me, okay?”

  Her eyes stayed fixated on me for an unfortably long time, as if she were processing difficult thoughts. I tried to ignore her by rummaging through the clothes she’d packed for me. There wasn’t a hell of a lot in there, and I was expeg it to all be stupidly girly, but buried away at the bottom I found a pair of jogging pants. I eagerly pulled them on. Despite riding a hell of a lot lower on the hips than anything I’d normally wear, they were blissfully fortable after wearing those jeans all day. Between the joggers and that ludicrous t-shirt I had something like a yard of toned midriff left exposed.

  Finally running out of patience, I turned back to K. “What? What the hell is it?”

  “David, do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”

  “I thought your damn federal profile covered everything.”

  “No, not everything,” K answered.

  “Fihen. Ask away.”

  “Have you ever kissed another man before?”

  I slowly sank down onto the bed. “Yeah,” I admitted. “How’d you know?”

  “It was a hunch based on your rea.”   I looked at her quizzically. “Really? Why?”

  “Tell me, this previous kiss . . . were you young when it happened?”

  I nodded, curious where she was going with this. I’d old anyone about Ken. Didn’t see much reason to talk about it, to be ho. Just like most things in my past, I erfectly happy leaving them there. So I’m really not sure why I told K. It must’ve been the alcohol.

  “Yeah. About thirteen. It was my first kiss.”

  The fact that it was my first seemed to take her by surprise. “Was it your only kiss with another man?”

  “Of course!” I excimed. “What do you think I am, some kind of fag?” Hell, I don’t even have any memories of being kissed ged by any kind of father figure or uncle or anything. I never really got to know my dad . . . my real dad, anyway. So the stubble on Tim’s fabsp; That was the first time I’d felt anything like that up against my lip or cheek. My fingers drifted to my face, and I still felt the phantom tickle of the boy’s skin against mine.

  She looked annoyed by my response. “I am not suggesting anything, Mr. Saunders. I simply find such a stroion to such a small a a little surprising.”

  “I kissed a fug guy, K!”

  “It’s on in many cultures for men to show such levels of intimacy.”

  “Yeah? Well, not in mine.”

  “Did you enjoy kissing that boy?”

  The question took me by surprise. I didn’t know whether she meant Ken or Tim. It didn’t matter. The answer would’ve been the same either way: “No!”

  “Really?” She eyes me curiously. “I just wonder, David, whether uhe stress of the st few days and through the forced role-pying of dy, if perhaps you are being forced to front some aspects of yourself you have long tried to ignore?”

  I eyed her warily. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “All the women, Mr. Saunders. The macho p. And today, dy flirting with the only two males she has met . . . .”

  “Just fug say it, K!”

  “Could it be, Mr Saunders, that you are in some kind of denial?”

  I stared at her in stunned disbelief. Slowly, my lips twitched into a small smile until finally, I too burst into ughter. “What, you think I’m gay?”

  K didn’t seem amused. “I think there is a possibility you have some repressed homosexual tendencies, yes.”

  That just sent me off into another burst of ughter. Holy shit, but this woman cracked me up. “You really think I’m. . . .” I couldn’t even say it. And the look on her face was so serious! I stumbled to my feet and spread my arms wide before her and dropped my pants. “Behold! Proof of my manliness!”

  “Mr Saunders, please.”

  “Nah, check it, watch this. Right now, I’m thinking of you, yeah?” I gave her a scivious grin as my dick rose to attention, strong and proud. I really was thinking of her as well. God, I’d love to see what the real Agent K looks like. In the meahe imagination was doing a damn fine job of filling in the gaps. I pulled the jogging pants back up and covered up, though there was no hiding the tent I’d just popped. “I mean, seriously K, you think I’m some homo?”

  She didn’t seem much impressed by my dispy. “I think there is a possibility, yes.”

  Releasing a sigh, I flopped down on the bed opposite her. “K, you believe whatever the fuck you want. I don’t really care. I really don’t. Though if you think a day of dressing up in chicks’ clothing and floung about as dy is going to turo the other side, you really don’t know me at all.

  “Hell, how’s this, I’ll even tell you something I’ve old anyone else: I actually wondered if I might be gay too, when I was a kid. Seriously! The kid I told you about, the one who kissed me when I was a teen? His name was Ken.” I flopped ba the bed, speaking to the ceiling. It was very distrag how, ohey stopped wobbling about, those heavy breasts fttened beh the t-shirt and weighed heavily on my chest. I quickly told her about Ken and about how I beat the crap out of him.

  “And after I made up with Ken, there art of me . . . I mean, there really art of me . . . that wao be that way for him. I dunno why. To make up for hurting him? Or maybe because I really, really didn’t want to lose his friendship. I mean, fuck, K--friends, you know? They’re one of the only things really worth fighting for.”

  I linked my hands behind my head and released a deep sigh. Why the hell was I telling her any of this? There were only one, maybe two people I’ve ever been this open with before. “But I couldn’t. I really couldn’t. I looked at Ken and, yeah, I felt very protective. I cared for the guy. But he didn’t do anything for me, if you know what I mean. And Ken damn well k. If he hadn’t been so ho I probably would’ve been messed in the head for a hell of a lot lohan I was.”

  I felt a bit nauseous, and it wasn’t the alcohol. I really didn’t like thinking about my past much.

  “So, you really want to know why I was so angry, K?”

  “Yes. Please,” she answered, in a tohat I couldn’t quite pbsp; I was tempted to sit up and have a look at her face, but I also really wao get this off my chest while I was still in a talking mood. It didn’t happen often.

  “See, this is the thing. I mean, really, if I was that insecure about my masity, K, d’you really think I’d be going around with these fug things?” I hefted those udders stuy chest. “The reason I pull off the dy thing so well is because I know she isn’t me. I don’t enjoy it--hell, I damn well hate it--but dy’s like a pletely different person. What she does doesn’t really reflee, you know?”

  “Then why did that kiss make you so angry?” K asked.

  I sighed. “Because it made me feel sick, toug my lips to that boy’s cheek. Even after everything I’ve said, it made me siy fug stomabsp; And it shouldn’t have. It really shouldn’t have. A lifetime ago I almost put a friend--hell, he was more than a friend, he robably my first real friend--in the hospital because he freaked me out. I didn’t uand him . . . although at that time I didn’t really uand myself either.

  “But that was over ten years ago! I thought I’d grown sihen. I kept in touch with Kehe years. Him being gay really didn’t matter. Or so I thought. Only now, I find out I’m still the same pathetiophobe I was when I was a kid. I thought I’d figured myself out years ago. And now dy’s showihat I haven’t. There’s still somewhere inside of me that’s scared and insecure--a part of me that’s freaked out by something as stupid as a guy kissing anuy.

  “So, yes, K, that really pisses me off. I hate myself for being weak. And worse, I’m angry at myself because it feels like I’m betraying the memory of Ken.”

  “Memory?” Her voice was surprisingly soft.

  “Yeah. Ken died a few years ago. He fought the good fight but the disease finally got him.”

  “I’m sorry, David. AIDS?”

  “Nah. cer. The idiot smoked—like, so much.”

  K shook her head. “You were right, Mr Saunders. I don’t know you after all. e on, the food is getting cold.”