Warning: This is a tragic romance. A big thank you to my editor, Blackrandl1958.
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I liked to be alone. I lived alone, and I wanted to stay that way. I was off the grid as much as possible. I enjoyed being all alone and hidden away in Brooklyn, in New York City. I used a false name, and I paid my rent in cash. The landlord liked it; I suspected he was a tax cheat. Not my problem.
The one problem was getting money. You need a lot of money to pay the rent and live alone in New York City. I worked, so I needed a bank account. That had to be in my real name, thanks to the Patriot Act of 2011, passed after 9/11. My banking address was of course my parents' home upstate.
Perhaps ironically, I worked at a digital privacy company. I am gifted with computers. I used one at home, but I fixed it so that it could not access the Internet, and the Internet could not access it. My home was my private place. It was my very private place.
People thought I was paranoid, but I wasn't. You're not paranoid if someone truly is out to get you. In my case, someone was.
I grew up in a large family. I was the only girl. I have four older brothers and two younger ones. As soon as I was old enough, I was helping my mother manage the family. I cooked, cleaned, did housework, and basically, I did the work of a stay at home housewife of the 1950s. I even did the laundry and made the beds of my six brothers on a daily basis. Somehow the idea of helping me out by making their own beds escaped my brothers' minds.
I was changing the diapers of my youngest brother when I was eight years old. I did however have one brother whom I liked. He was Ray, and he was one year older than I. He and Lucas (who was two years older) looked after me. Both of them grew to over six feet, and I was five feet three inches at my tallest, so they viewed me as their little sister and always protected me in the best fraternal sense. Ray and I became really good friends.
When Halloween came, I sewed them all costumes. My mother had taught me how to sew and she had the world's best sewing machine. I also learned how to apply make-up, and made up each and every one of them for Halloween. Later, when I was in high school, I joined the theater company, and I helped in both wardrobe and make-up.
Nevertheless, my dream growing up was always to be left alone. I was living my dream.
It was hard growing up being the only girl in a family with six boys. The brothers did nothing, with the qualified exception of Ray. I cleaned their rooms. I cooked their meals and I made their school lunches. Then, as my body changed into the body of a woman, privacy became a concern. I was always nervous that one of my brothers would spy on me when I was taking a shower. I always locked the bathroom door when I was in the shower, but one time when I was done, the door was not only unlocked, but a little bit open.
After that I always took my showers at the home of my girlfriend Betty Ann. Betty Ann had told her mom that I had six brothers, and that was all she needed to know. Her mother understood my problem immediately, and I never had to explain in any detail. I loved Betty Ann's mom.
Our own bathroom had a lock on the door, but you could easily open it if you knew to push the tip of a ball point pen in just the right place on the doorknob. My bedroom door was similar, so when I became aware of the significance of having the body of a woman in a testosterone filled home, I became a locksmith. My breasts became fairly large when I was only 14. All my brothers noticed. They just kept on growing until I was 20. Now they are large indeed.
I installed such a sophisticated lock on my bedroom door that my brothers would have had to break down the door to get inside my bedroom. My breasts alone were a huge temptation. I could tell by the way they leered at me.
The one exception was Ray. I learned much later he was gay. That explained, at least to me, why we became so close. I still love gay men most of all. I love gay culture, the way they dress, the way they dance and the way they celebrate being alive.
I now use my hard-learned cleaning skills to keep my apartment immaculate. Everything is in its place, and everything shines, literally, it's so clean. I help out the landlord with my locksmith skills when they are needed. The landlord calls upon my talents surprisingly often, since he owns four buildings, all divided up into apartments. Tenants lock themselves out with alarming regularity. I get called, and I let them in. I now keep a set of keys to all of his apartments, which makes everything easier. However, if need be, I can easily break into almost any apartment. I have all the tools of a house burglar.
The skills I learned as a child are now quite handy. My own apartment is a fortress. It would be easier to enter it through the wall then it would be to enter it through the steel lined front door. I also have well hidden, yet extensive, electronic surveillance of both the inside and the exterior.
When I became interested in sex I was already in college. Given the example of my mother giving birth practically every year, I decided that copulation was not for me. I avoided any chance of getting pregnant simply by remaining a virgin. Instead, I became a world class expert at blowjobs. Great blowjobs can keep a man happy for quite a while before he insists on conquering the girl with his cock pumping away inside her. Consequently, my relationships with men were always of a limited duration.
The men would get all the blowjobs they wanted, but they never, ever got to fuck me. Nevertheless, they had to get me off too, or I would dump them. With those men I did not dump, I was fingered and pleasured with their tongues until I would come.
For the blowjobs, I was considered to be good. That's an understatement. I had quite a reputation, in fact. I would tease the men slowly, taking my time, licking their balls, tickling their cocks with my fingers, then licking the sides as if their cocks were lollipops. A specialty of mine was to hum while I sucked their balls. Men seemed to love that.
