When Jack got home to find Stacy standing in the living room wearing a nice pair of tennis shoes, a light jacket covering a pin t-shirt and jeans, and a worried expression, she already knew what was coming.
“Jack, we need to talk about our retionship.” Her love life was fucked.
“I’m just not sure we’re compatible anymore.” She was on (or off now, she supposed) her third girlfriend this year.
“I’m worried you only see me as a sex object, not a full woman.” Kasey had left her back in March after almost a year together. She’d made it a respectable six months with Lacy at least, and they’d parted amicably. Only sting three-and-a-half months with Stacy had her worried though.
“It’s like when you look at me, you see right through, I just don’t feel present in your mind.” She was definitely getting worse at this.
Jack steeled herself and finally responded to her girlfriend, “It’s alright babe, I understand. I’ve been distracted with work and I haven’t been giving you the attention you deserve. No worries, we can take a break, get back on our feet, and maybe go a bit slower next time if that's still what we want.” She threw on a small, sad smile for effect. They weren’t going to be getting back together, but it made break-ups go smoother to pretend. Or at least it usually did, she thought, as Stacy scowled at her.
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about!” Stacy shouted. “You’re only half paying attention even when I’m fucking breaking up with you. Maybe you’d be able to keep a girl if you cared a bit more about her needs and weren’t just interested getting off with your fucking fetish!”
Jack was just confused now. What fetish was Stacy talking about? They’d gotten up to some light bondage, which she’d thoroughly enjoyed, but that was Stacy’s idea, not hers. Stacy saw her confused expression and must have read it as guilt, since she put on a cruel smirk as she started to twist whatever knife she thought she was twisting.
“That’s right, I met Kasey, and I heard about Lacy and your one night stands through the grapevine. Do you really think we don’t talk? Especially about creeps like you.” Stacy continued, beginning to tear up, “I really thought we had something at first. You made me feel special. I can’t fucking believe you were just using me!”
Things were getting out of hand, and Jack still didn't know what was going on. “You’ve got it all wrong babe. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She said, trying to calm things a bit. She realized it was definitely the wrong thing to say when Stacy ughed in disbelief, stomped past her, and left, smming the door without so much as a “fuck you” for the road.
Jack continued to stand in the living room, too stunned to think, until her phone buzzed in her pocket. It was from Stacy; she and her friends were going to come by tomorrow morning to pick up her stuff. She should probably have felt sadder about it, that meant this was final after all, though she didn’t really think she and Stacy still had a chance after what Stacy had said to her.
What had Stacy said to her? It didn’t make any sense. She continued to mull it over as she went to the fridge to grab some leftover enchidas for dinner. Stacy had accused Jack of using her for some sort of fetish, but Jack couldn’t even begin to figure it out. They hadn’t done anything but some mild kink in the bedroom. Stacy liked to cook, and Jack had made some comments to her about making a good housewife, but those always made her blush and giggle, one time she’d even asked to do some 50’s housewife rolepy.
It must be something else then, Jack thought as she pulled her dinner out of the microwave. Stacy had brought up her other exes too, and she searched for something they had in common that could have offended Stacy. They were all blonde, she supposed, and were generally around her own height of six feet. They all had smaller busts, husky voices, and strong features. Jack could admit that there was a resembnce between them all, but that’s hardly the type of thing to break up over, plenty of women have a type, and it doesn’t usually cause problems, let alone lead to accusations of being some sort of fetishistic creep.
She finished her enchidas, the st meal Stacy would cook for her, and left the pte in the sink. Future Jack could take care of that, right now she was too tired, both from the long day at work and the breakup.
By now the sadness was setting in. Jack knew she wasn’t the best girlfriend, but she really did like having Stacy around, and now she wouldn’t anymore. Getting into the shower she could almost see Stacy right there with her, covering herself with her hands the way she did before the warm water made her comfortable enough to truly rex. All of the fancy shampoos and conditioners that Stacy used instead of Jack’s sensible 2-in-1 were even cuter in her absence. Stepping out, Stacy’s pink and blue striped towel was even harder to look at than the shampoos. She loved to do her hair up in it before coming to bed, something about making it dry better. Jack didn’t have to worry about that, she always kept her hair short.
Once she’d towelled off, Jack was ready to crawl into bed and doom scroll social media until she fell asleep, when she noticed Stacy’s bottles of white and blue pills on the nightstand. The blood in her veins turned to ice and she realized exactly what Stacy had been talking about. Stacy was calling her a creep because she was one, it hadn’t been on purpose, she didn’t even consciously notice it at the time. But there was another thing that Kasey, Lacey, Stacy, and all the one night stands she’d had between them had in common, they were transgender.
Jack was a fucking chaser.
