My Own Body Tender

I lost myself in my work for two days. I sustained myself on microwaved dinners and water from the tap, just so I wouldn't be tempted to visit the food stand across from Ashleigh's apartment, just so I wouldn't be further tempted to locate her door.

When I awoke on the third day, I decided to take a day off from working. Showered and dressed, I headed out, and purposely walked in the opposite direction—away from her building. It wasn't difficult to find the slave tents. I paid the burly man standing watch at the open flap before stepping inside the den.

Immediately to my right was a tall, narrow cage holding a skinny boy. He was taking it slowly and steadily up the ass from a cloaked shadow of a man. The boy's mouth pressed shut, his lips invisible, his eyes squeezed closed. His fists were balls of white knuckles on the bars, holding his body steady for the man taking his pleasure. He was naked and his penis stood out from his bony hips, small and pink and hard.

I moved on. People didn't come here to be watched.

"Back for more, sir?"

I stopped in my tracks, turning toward the familiar voice. The girl in the cage grinned back at me. I noticed her fingers on her nipples, tweaking them, pulling her heavy breasts up. I felt the heat rise between my legs, but reminded myself that I wasn't here for pleasure. Not today.

"Hello, brown-eyed beauty," I murmured to her, coming close to her cage. I can smell her arousal, and it's making mine stir. My hands pressed against my thighs in my pockets, my wrist rubbing against the harness, the dildo, rubbing against my sex. "I just wanted to ask you a few questions."

She pouted, her thick lips looking sinfully luscious. "I don't get to suck your cock today, sir?"

I groaned. "I'd like that, actually, but... I... I need to know something."

"No one's ever wanted to just talk before."

I leaned up against the cool bars of her cage. "I'll make you come if you answer my questions."

"Oooh," she purred. "What can I do for you?"

I took my hands out of my pockets and tugged a set of leather gloves from the inside breast of my coat. I pulled them on as I spoke. "Last time I visited you... you saw my dildo. You know I'm... not a man." It was difficult to say those words out loud.

She watched me, guileless. "Yeah," she said. "I remember."

"You didn't turn me away, though," I pointed out. "I need to know... why did you... accept it?"

She shrugged. "You're a customer. I mean... it was kinda weird. But I was hot and I wanted to be fucked. I guess it didn't matter who was fuckin' me, or how or with what."

I nodded—I'd expected as much. But I didn't lose heart. If one person... even a slave... could look past the harness, then hopefully I could find someone else who would look past it.

Ashleigh's words rang through my head. Be

confident

. Be

honest

.

I closed my eyes, pushing her from my mind. I tightened the gloves on my hands and slipped one between the bars. When I opened my eyes again, I had moved into my more comfortable skin. I was brave. I was sure.

I brought her to orgasm easily, efficiently. But my thoughts were elsewhere.

I showered when I got home. I put myself back together delicately, choosing fine clothes, dressing sharp. I spent an unreasonable amount of time on my hair. At the door, I chose a wool pea coat that matched the color of my slacks. I forwent the hat. It'd just mess up my hair.

Before I knew it, I was steeling myself at her door. It was not a difficult task to find the apartment; I remembered she'd said I was standing outside of her window when I was eating my lunch that day that now seemed so long ago. I made a loose fist with my hand and rapped on the metal door, praying that she was home. I was just starting to get nervous when I heard the lock sliding over.

Ashleigh cracked the door open. I smelled incense and burning wax and heard soft music. She looked at me, her brow creased. "Jaq?"

"Ashleigh," I said, sounding much more confident than I was feeling. "May I come in?"

"Um, yes," she said, looking behind her. "It's kind of a mess..."

She opened the door wider to let me in. I stepped over the doorway, feeling like a vampire invited into a mortal's home for the first time. My hands were stuck in my pockets. I looked around, drinking in the surroundings. The music was clear now, instrumental, piano. The floor was cluttered with stacks of books. Wooden shelves lined every wall, which I assumed would be filled with the books like classy insulation. A few paintings graced the walls, but no mirrors. The furniture was cloaked in canvas.

"I'm redecorating," Ashleigh explained, dancing past me on bare feet towards the couch. She nudged a pile or two out of the path, gesturing that I come forward. I did not allow myself to hesitate.

She sat down on the couch, poised on the edge again as if, at any moment, she would have to get up. I sat next to her, but not too closely.

"I didn't mean to interrupt you," I began, "but I really wanted to talk to you."

Ashleigh brushed a lock of hair from her face, tucking it deftly behind an ear. She was wearing simpler things than what I'd seen her in before; pale khaki's, a dark green shirt. They still managed to hug her body in a way that made me nervous, made me ache. "It's okay," she said. "I needed a break, anyway."

I nodded. My hands found each other and connected in my lap. I made myself hold her gaze while I spoke. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. About you, actually." Her expression didn't change. I pushed forward. "I think you're right. That I... shouldn't trick people into thinking that I'm a man. But the problem with that is, everyone thinks there's only one other option—that I'm a woman. I'm not that, either. I'm somewhere in between. And I'm tired of pretending... I'm tired of being afraid that someone's going to find out I'm wearing a mask. I... wanted... I want so desperately to just be who I am, this in between person, and stop pretending. Whether I'm doing it to fit in or doing it... to pick up a girl. I don't want to do it anymore."

"That's good," Ashleigh said. "I mean, that's great, Jaq." She was smiling. It felt genuine.

I sat up, moving my hands to my knees. I hoped I didn't look like I was begging. "So, Ashleigh, I was wondering if I could take you out to dinner?"

She pressed her lips together. The silence stretched on and I started to feel nauseous with anxiety, my heart pounding in my chest.

When she still didn't answer, I said, "This way... you know I'm not hiding anything. You know what I am. I'll be a gentleman. I don't expect anything. Just please... let me take you out, this once?"

Ashleigh nodded once, just barely. "Okay," she said.

"Great." I stood up, offering her my hand. She looked up to me, questioning. "I have reservations." I couldn't stop my grin.

She laughed. I was relieved. "Confident?" She took my hand and stood, wearing a wry smirk. "You should at least let me change first. You're dressed and I'm... well, just wait here and let me get into something a little more glamorous."

"Not too distracting, I hope," I said, releasing her hand reluctantly. "I can hardly think straight, and you're wearing slacks."

Ashleigh flashed me a winning smile before disappearing down the hallway. I heard the door to her bedroom close.

I shoved my hands in my pockets and walked around the living room, being nosy about the books. It felt like an eternity before she emerged. At the click of the door reopening, I raised my head.

"How do I look?" she asked.

"Um..."

Ashleigh smiled. She was wearing a black skirt that ended at the knees, a lacy red petticoat just visible at the hem. Her legs were covered by black stockings. I was already hoping they were thigh-highs, hooked to a sexy garter belt. The top was a halter, tied in a bow behind her neck.

Was I drooling?

"I guess this is good, then," she said, approaching me. The sound of her heels echoed against the empty shelves.

"My word," I said, my voice low, "you are dangerous."

I followed her to the door. "It's only fair if I let you know," she said, "I'm not really into women."

"Then it's good I'm not a woman," I said.

Ashleigh just smiled, opting for silence.

The restaurant we entered was likely a big surprise to her. The tallest building in the city had a swank cocktail lounge and high-end restaurant on the top floor. I didn't say a word as we waited in the elevator, I just watched her eyes widen infinitesimally as I pressed the button for the correct floor.

When the heavy elevator doors opened and we stepped out of the car, Ashleigh glanced at me, as if checking to make sure I wasn't bluffing. I smiled and approached the hostess. "I have a reservation at seven," I said, "but we're a little early."

The hostess knows me. She smiled and nodded, saying, "Oh, it's all right, your table is already being held. Right this way, please." I saw her eye Ashleigh cautiously. I'd never brought anyone to dinner with me, before.

The table was at the edge of the floor. It was against the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city, and the ocean beyond, reflecting the setting sun. The view was gorgeous. I caught Ashleigh appreciating it, awe glazing over her face for just a moment before she recovered and slid onto the plush dining chair I was holding out for her.

"Thank you," she said as I was sitting myself. The table was heavy mahogany, protected by a wide runner and place mats. The fabrics were all an expensive, clean white, which used to make me nervous about spilling, but once I saw the prices, I didn't fret over a drop of red wine.

"You can order anything you like," I said, taking our menus. Ashleigh leaned in almost immediately after the hostess gave us the name of our waiter and excused herself.

"How did you get in this place?" she whispered conspiratorially.

"I eat here the same night every week," I answered casually, my fingers tracing the gold lettering on the leather cover of the menu. "They know me. They know who I am."

Ashleigh sat back, opening the menu. I couldn't tell if she was impressed or not. My heart was hammering in my chest, my throat dry. I sipped water from the glass on my side.

The waiter approached, all smiles and specials. I didn't hear a word he said. I was staring at Ashleigh and she was looking anywhere but in my direction. She was blushing and I wondered why, but still marveled in the way her fair skin flushed.

We ordered drinks and I let her look over the menu again in silence for a while. She was bouncing a little, I assumed her leg was shaking. Was she nervous? Excited?

The drinks came and the waiter left again with our dinner orders and the menus. Now, with nothing else to distract her but the view, Ashleigh glanced back in my direction. I smiled.

"How...?" she asked again.

I couldn't help but chuckle. "I designed this. The building. I worked very closely with the property manager and design consultant. As a result, I'm fairly close with the folks who work here. I'm a regular and I get a discount, but I tip really well." I winked playfully.

"You designed this?" she looked around.

"Well, just the structure. I'm an architect, not an interior designer."

"I'm impressed," she said. "This place... it's impressive." Ashleigh turned her head and looked out over the sea, the dying light warming her features. I was still so enchanted with her, and that she had planted this little seed of self-confidence inside me. My mind drifted to the different routes our encounter could have taken. Besides the obvious one, the one I had hoped for, where I would leave her pleased and oblivious to my gender, there were not many alternatives that ended well for me. In many ways, I had opened myself up to her, and she didn't harm me. I was grateful. Surprised, and sometimes confused, but very grateful.

The conversation moved on into easy territory. She ordered wine when our entrees came and the waiter poured it into her glass, red and precious as rubies. I declined the wine, already feeling buzzed just by Ashleigh's presence. We chatted about our jobs, about books and good food, staying in the safe zone. I didn't try to touch her hands as they rested on the table, looking so touchable. I didn't scoot my foot forward, seeking hers.

So I jumped a little when I felt her toes sliding up my pant leg. She had been sipping her wine, browsing the dessert menu. I was looking outside, or pretending to look outside while actually admiring her reflection on the dark glass, when it happened. I jerked my gaze toward her, but she didn't look up. I only knew she'd caught my startled reaction by the smirk on her lips.

Her stockinged toes. Reaching up against my shin, my calf, against my bare skin. I felt the heat growing in my loins and I pressed my thighs together, stifling a groan in my throat. What was she doing? How was I supposed to react? I felt frozen in my chair, my gaze dropped, staring at the menu in Ashleigh's hand.

It was agonizing. I could feel the barest touch of her toenails, the curve of her arch. It was as if all of my senses were keen on that part of my leg, to feel so perfectly the shape of her foot. She was driving me mad, and she was hardly doing anything. I wondered if she knew.

"Have you decided on a dessert, miss?" the waiter asked, appearing suddenly at the side of our table. I raised my eyes to Ashleigh, feigning interest in her decision. She smiled brightly up to the waiter and ordered a fruit tart. He took the menu and left to retrieve the dessert.

Ashleigh, no longer holding the menu, finally met my eyes. Her cheeks were flushed with wine.

"Hi," she said, resting her almost naked foot on top of my shoe.

"Be careful," I warned her.

The waiter returned with Ashleigh's treat before our conversation continued. It was an artfully arranged tower of fruit on a fluffy, crunchy pastry shell, topped with whipped cream and shaved white chocolate. As soon as the waiter was gone, Ashleigh stuck a finger into the fluffy cream and sucked it off, her eyes finding mine unabashedly. I could feel myself blushing, but I refused to look away.

Was she teasing me? Why?

I was so confused, conflicted. My body was reading her advances and I wanted her, I didn't want to spend another moment in this restaurant and I wanted to take her to my apartment and throw her on the bed and have her every way a woman can be had. My clit ached. I felt the cock against my thigh and imagined I was aware of its pulsing with my heartbeat, hungry. Wanton.

But in my head, I heard her saying,

I'm not really into women

.

I watched her eat her tart. She picked it apart and ate it with her fingers, going so excruciatingly slow. I felt like there was a fire going between my legs. I was sure she knew what she'd done and was continuing to do, though admittedly with less finesse. I think she knew that, once the tart was gone, we'd be leaving.

And eventually, it was gone. So was the wine. I paid quietly and stood, offering her my arm to help her rise. She was just as graceful as ever, not stumbling, even in heels.

Without a word, I steered her towards my apartment, waiting to see if she'd object. She didn't.

Ashleigh didn't even raise a question when we came to my building and climbed the stairs to my address.

As I was unlocking the door, she leaned against me. She was warm and smelled like Merlot and strawberries. My heart was loud in my ears, but I was brave enough to wrap my arm around her waist as I opened the door, ushering her inside.

"Oh," she said, after I'd turned on the lights and turned the deadbolt in the door. "I've gotta pee."

I chuckled. "All right." I led her to the only bathroom in my apartment, which was in the master bedroom. She went inside and I heard the click of the lock on the door knob.

I was too antsy to sit, at first. I paced. One of my shoes was squeaking, so I sat down on the edge of my bed, facing the bathroom door, and took my shoes off. I realized I was still wearing my jacket. I was removing it as Ashleigh emerged.

She paused in the doorway, light spilling out into the darkness from the overhead light in the bathroom. Ashleigh saw what I was doing and came over to me easily, sitting next to me on the bed and kicking off her heels. She folded her legs under herself and leaned against me as I was setting my jacket aside.

"Dinner was very nice," she said, her head dipping down to rest on my shoulder. "Thank you."

"It was my pleasure," I said softly. "Do you want me to call a coach?"

I was suddenly hyper-aware of her hand on my thigh.

"Are you wearing it right now?" she asked, almost whispering.

I bit my lip, feeling my face heat up. I couldn't look at her, the way she was sitting, so I had no way to gauge her expression.

"You are, aren't you?" Her voice was feathery, tickling my senses. "Have you been hard all through dinner?"

"Yes," I said finally. "I've been thinking of fucking you since before I knocked on your door."

She moved her hand further up my leg, slowly. I watched her fingers stretch out and find the bulge against my thigh, the silicone that was hot on my skin. She traced the head of my cock with her fingernails. My hips rose mere millimeters but it was enough for her to know that her touch was making me hot.

My jaw was clenched. "What are you doing?"

"I think I want you," she murmured. "It isn't the wine. I was thinking about it before... but I thought maybe the wine would make me braver."

"B-but--" I stuttered, "you said..."

She leaned up, and we looked into each others' eyes. "If you're not a woman," she said, "prove it."

I felt confidence rising inside me. I knew who I was—and what I was—I was just me. When would I get another chance to prove it to anyone else? I didn't know.

What I did know was that, right now, there was a gorgeous woman sitting next to me, in my bedroom, with her fingers on my dick, telling me she wanted me. My heart ached. I wanted her.

My body knew how to move.

My fingers at the base of her scalp, moving up, closing the distance between her lips and mine. I kissed her, tentatively at first, my heart beating so hard I could feel it shaking me. She was kissing back, as shy as I was. I broke the kiss and she caught my bottom lip between her teeth, sucking gently, before she let me back off. I felt her grip on my cock and I gasped, holding her neck steady as I pressed my forehead against hers.

"I want to see it," she said. "Take your pants off. You've seen all of me..."

I hesitated, so she moved her hand up to my belt. I heard the clink of the buckle and she tugged on it, then began working on my fly. I was powerless to stop her. I didn't want to stop her. She worked the fly down and traced the waistband of my boxers with her fingernails. "Take them off," she said.

I disentangled myself from her and shoved down my trousers, kicking them off the edge of the bed. I pushed back on the bed and she followed me. My harness and my cock were under my boxers, but the dildo was straining against the less-confining material, visible through the button-less fly. Ashleigh leaned over my thighs, positioning herself perfectly as her fingers curled under the waistband, grazing against the harness, and tugged the front down.

She maneuvered my cock delicately, angling it, to my surprise, into her mouth. I pressed my lips together to keep from moaning out loud. I remembered her pressing a bottle of beer to her lips and struggling not to imagine her sucking me off. She wasn't sucking, but rather she tasted, testing the material, her nostrils flaring to catch the scent, her fingers pressing into the length to try the firmness.

I must have made a noise, because her eyes flickered to me. Her pink tongue pressed the spongy head forward, her hands holding it steady. She leaned back just a tiny bit. "It's not as hard as I thought it would be," she said.