Simone:
Before I left our apartment, I changed into clean clothes. I don't want girls I meet tonight to smell another woman on me. I pull on a navy blue button up and throw on some black jeans and my black jacket. I quickly throw a comb through my hair and spritz on Mike's cologne.
I'm a bit surprised how much I like my new look. I walk through the city streets, late at night, with no hesitation. I feel so free compared to before I switched bodies with my boyfriend. I feel like the night and the city is mine for the taking.

 I hop on the train and I open Mike's phone. I debate downloading Tinder or something like that but navigating a hookup over text just feels like such a waste of time. I decide to look up, "nyc dive bar" in his google maps. "The Dive Bar" pops up first in lower Manhattan. I guess that works.
It's been quite a while since I've tried to pick up women. Mike and I have been together for years so I guess I should feel a bit rusty. I actually feel pretty confident. I've always felt like I was fighting an uphill battle getting women as a woman. They were always only wanting to kiss me to turn on their boyfriends or were just straight girls who just want to get head but never give head.
But as a man, women are trained to worship the ground I walk on. I can do fuck all for them, and they'll still deep throat me, let me cum in them, and pray for my call the next day.
But I would never treat a women with that kind of disrespect.
Though that's not to say I mind having things on my side for once.
I walk down the street and see massive neon, blue, script lettering out, "The Dive Bar". 

Ah, aquatic theme, beautiful.
I walk in through the double doors to a blue haze. There's a light music here but nothing too over powering. I hand the bouncer Mike's ID and smile big. He cocks his eyebrow at me. Oh shit, too femme. I switch quickly to a little side smirk. The bouncer nods and hands me back Mike's ID.
Holy shit this place is crazy. The walls dividing the restaurant between sections are giant tanks full of beautiful and colorful fish. The place has tacky sea theme, but with the color, lights, and fish, it doesn't have quite the same "Mom's Bathroom" vibe most sea themes have.
I sit down at the bar and the bartender strolls over to me. 

"Can I getcha something, handsome?" The bartender says.
Helene is an older butch woman I would normally immediately cling to in these situations. But I need to come off less as a desperate bisexual and more like a straight dude.
"Can I just get a Shirley Temple?"
She chuckles. "Sure thing, buddy."
As I wait for my drink, I glance around the bar for women. It's kind of strange, normally I would be looking for flaggings or playing guessing games to see if a woman is queer. Tonight, the world is my oyster and I can just go for the hottest woman I see. 

There are quite a few contenders, but the one I set my eyes on is playing the pinball machine over by the bathrooms.
How retro.
She has cropped dark brown hair, stopping at about the middle of her neck. Her lightly tanned skin is clear other than the freckles dotted across the bridge of her nose and her shoulders. She's wearing a light red tank top that exposes her midriff and long jean shorts. She's tied a scarf around her hair, her eyebrows squished together, focused on the game.
She's pretty good too. I watch her red polished nails grip the sides of the machine as she times her hits perfectly

.
"WONDERFUL"
"YOOOOOUUUU GOT IT"
"EXTRA EXTRA EXTRA BALL"
The lights spin and flash, shining beautifully on her concentrated face.
As she finishes up on her last ball, I grab my drink and walk over to watch, but not close enough to hover.

 The pinball slides right down the center. She had no chance to hit it.
"UGH, FUCK," She says, shoving the machine.
"Yeah, you were fucking robbed," I say.
She looks up at me, surprised to see me watching her. Her eyes narrow.
"I would have gotten it if you weren't blocking the light."
"Sorry, I just haven't seen anyone play that well since I was a kid. Next ones on me." 

I fish a couple of quarters out of Mike's wallet and put them on the machine. She swipes them and starts another round.
"If you got that girly drink to come hit on me, just know I'm not a fucking lightweight. I can hold my shit."
"Oh no, this is for me, I love cherry." I reply, sipping my Shirley Temple innocently.
She smirks a bit. 

"So you're just a pinball aficionado, huh?"
"You know it. I actually travel the country, finding America's Next Top Pinball Stars. I gotta say you have a real shot at the top."
"Wow! Little ol' me? A bit star?" she says with a false twang, "Gee mister, I don't know if I can handle all that big city stardom. I just play enough so we don't gotta sell Betsy to the town butcher."
I tip my imaginary cowboy hat, "Well that's a respectable profession miss," I say with my own twang, "but if you ever wanna see the big city lights of Manhattan just give me a call."
She grins. "Maybe I'll take you up on that sometime."
She loses her final ball and the game starts to go dark. 

"So you're new around here." She says headed straight for the bar.
"Yeah sorta," I say, "I moved to New York about a year ago but this is my first time here."
"Ah, well, welcome," She sits at a barstool, facing me, arms open wide, "to the rest of your fucking life."
Whether she means this night, the bar, New York, could be anyone's guess.
"Well, thank you for the warm welcome."
"Any time Shirley, Helene, can you make us two Gibson martinis?"
She glances at me, "You got the last game, I'll get the drinks." She smiles. Her shirt and scarf look purple in all this blue lighting.
I am able to actually get a pretty decent look at her body now that she's not hunched over the machine. She's got a tall, lean, figure. Her calves and thighs are so toned I wonder if she works as a ballerina in her day-to-day.
Our glasses with a piece of onion arrive and we both take a sip. She closes her eyes and sighs out a little moan. "Now, that hits the spot."
It takes everything in me to not spit it back into the glass immediately.
She laughs at my obvious discomfort. 

"Helene, can you actually grab another Shirley Temple for my friend here? Go ahead and make it dirty though"
I subtly, or maybe not so subtly, spit the drink back in the glass now that my cover is blown.
"So, how did you develop this rotten taste of yours?" She asks taking the glass out of my hand.
She stares into my eyes as she drinks it down. I feel myself becoming hard.
