Two Sides of the Coin 1

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Two Sides of the Coin (Part 1)
By Sabrina G. Langton


Author's Note: Hmmm... Our heroine in this story gets a little bit autobiographical on us here, nothing to do with me, of course. She fills us in on what she thinks we need to know, as we need to know it. Sometimes my heroines are so lackadaisical... Oh, it turns out she doesn't know too much anyway, ha... Life should be a surprise, don'tcha think?

Hope YOU like it...


It was quiet. I felt like I was in a black hole. I was sitting on a huge rock.

If I took a deep breath, if I opened my nostrils wider and tried to take in the scent, if I opened my eyes and waved my hand shattering the fog slipping over me, I still wouldn't know where I was, which way the new house was. I liked it like this sometimes. Here I was, lost in the slight darkness, in the middle of New Jersey, maybe in the middle of my imagination.


The fog was now shattered.

"Um, hi."

"Didn't expect to find someone on 'Kane's Rock.'" He moved closer, he was on a moving mower, I think. He was in flannel and denim and a baseball hat was barely on his head. "It's a long walk from anywhere." He smiled, I watched him take a good long look at me, my outfit. I came to the most hidden, quiet part of the state, this tiny town, to wear the most inappropriate clothes to be sitting on a rock. I wore the most inappropriate shoes to hit the trails, the hills. And of course, my hair was such a mess from the slight wind, the sweat, and sometimes slightly frizzy from the moisture in the late September air, like right now.

"Oh, mmm, I'm just taking a break," I told him, trying to sound light and feminine. Trying to sound completely different than I used to. Trying to sound like me.

"Well, do you need a ride? I have plenty of room in the back," And he laughed, it was nice, he didn't seem to mind me in a short skirt, stockings, and heels. On a rock.


"Here I am." And I pointed to my new, old house. My new house in a new state, far away from my old house in the old one.

"Oh, you live in the Morrison's house?"

"I guess. I don't think the Morrison's are still here, I would have run into them by now." I heard him laugh as I slipped off the back seat of his mower, I was showing way too much leg, good thing he couldn't see how ungraceful I disengaged from his vehicle.

"I live right on the other side of the Quarry, right in the middle of the park."

I smiled, "I live right here in the heart of darkness." He watched me again, he smiled as I gestured toward the old Morrison place, dimming in the autumn light.

"Well to me you live right here in the middle of my world."

"Do I?"

"Well, maybe not, but you live pretty close. We can meet at 'Kane's Rock' again, you can tell me how you ended up here in Martinsville."

"Oh, okay." I gave a little girlie wave, the one I practiced, and headed to the front door of my little house. I turned around, he was waiting for me to get in, it was nice. It was so quiet here, it was getting darker.

"Friday? Same time?"

I spun, I looked, he was waiting for an answer, he surprised me, I thought he was just being facetious.

"Um, okay, Friday."


Martinsville, I never heard of it, never driven through it, never been on any list where I ever wanted to visit, it didn't even sound like a real place to me, but that is where I ended up. I was from LA, I was born two blocks away from Hollywood and Vine. I was born in a backseat of a yellow cab.

"Miss? I think you just had a baby." That is what the cab driver allegedly told my mother on the way to the hospital.

"Ya think?" And that is the phrase my mother uttered or made up, I didn't know. My mother was full of stories, and embellishments. "After all that I need a drink." My mother always needed a drink, that's the part I believed.

She had a string of boyfriends when I was growing up, I had a string of 'Uncles.' All of them were so much nicer than my mother. Life in LA, No Ho, was busy when I was young, I didn't care I had some friends, I had other mothers I could borrow, I was fine. I was also always early. I was always waiting to go somewhere else.

Then, if I had an appointment, I would be tense all day, afraid I am going to be late, afraid I am going to miss it. High school for me was insane, doctor's visits were a nightmare, I was constantly on edge. I was always checking my itinerary, schedule, I was always dressed and ready to leap out of the door, I was always over an hour early for everything.

There was one little, teensy, tiny, thing that I did, and still do, to relax. If you saw my fingers you would see my thumb and forefinger really close together, so close, you could barely slip a parking ticket through them. I had just the one, well the one tiny thing.

"Sabrina! Time to get ready for school." My mother would call, she didn't care if I was late for college, she only cared that I didn't leave the house dressed the way I sometimes dressed. She wouldn't let me enter the LA streets dressed as a girl. Being a son was fine, but being a daughter, well that was a whole other thing.

When she noticed me running my fingers through her dresses when I was small she was quite surprised. When she noticed me slipping on her heels and tripping while I was a toddler, she thought it was cute; when she noticed I hadn't washed the makeup off my face completely when I was a teen, she just grunted, she figured I was a goth; but when she finally saw me completely dressed up in my new ruched red dress, nude heels, bangle bracelets, and full makeup, on my eighteenth birthday... well, she was completely annoyed and confused. She was having none of it.

"What is this?"

"Um, it's just me. I thought you didn't mind me dressing like this." My hands were shaking, I felt a little foolish, I read all the signals completely wrong for years.

She stared, she shook her head looking at my nude nyloned knees, she was way too quiet, her black bangs almost covering her heavily mascaraed eyes. She grabbed two bottles of Pino Grigio and stood by the front door. "Don't move." She pointed, she slammed, she was gone. I missed class that day and suddenly it was fine, the tension and anticipation were completely gone. The girl in the mirror was okay with me being late, being lackadaisical, being just another female in front of another mirror.

Even my anticipating nightmares of lateness started to drift away. I was loving all the new falling to my death scenarios.

I crossdressed in my mother's home until I moved out when I was twenty-four. I went to school as a boy. I was never early again, College was so much easier than high school.

"You're wearin' that same friggin' dress?" My mother would sulk as I made dinner in the small kitchen.

"I am, I don't have too many to choose from."

"This is ridiculous, what happens if one of the neighbors or um, my friends see you? how do I explain my daughter is really a boy?"

This was the conversation we had constantly. Then she came up with a plan. She threatened me, she wanted me out of dresses and heels, she introduced me to a young woman she met, Miranda, she said she needed a boyfriend. I felt obligated, I had never dated a girl before. Once we started I had no time to dress, she was always around, she used up all my free time. Soon my anxiousness came back. My mother's plan worked, for her.


"So how do you like the rock?" It was finally Friday, the sun was setting and he was standing over me, my heels were two feet off the ground, I was holding my long beige dress with my fingers so the wind didn't blow it open exposing my nylon legs.

"I like it, I am going to come here all the time." I smiled, it was nice talking to someone.

"The rock is named after a writer from the area. Andrea Kane. She writes romance novels."

"Does she?"

"Mmm, she is supposed to be quite good, I have seen her several times, she's probably very friendly. Do you read romance books?"

"I do. I read quite a bit of everything."

I was looking at him, he was probably around the same age as me, maybe older, early thirties or so. He had dark hair, a slight beard, and he was quite broad-shouldered and tall. Today I was wearing sensible heels and he was easily half a foot taller than me. It was nice looking up at a man, one who was quite handsome, one who didn't mind the way I was dressed, or even the color of my lips. One that kept on looking at my navel above my skirt.

"I feel I have to tell you, but, I'm transitioning. I'm transgender." I smiled at him, and he made a face I couldn't really read.

"Transgender? Okay. I'm mostly German and French." He then laughed, he was making a joke. I think.

He moved closer to me, he held my hand, he was looking at my long light purple nails. "You should show me your library and then I will show you mine." He smiled, I could tell he liked this little diversion during his day, his work day. I could tell he wasn't too worried about me being transgender either. I could also tell he liked my blonde hair, my long nails, my ankles, maybe even my navel. I wasn't used to talking to men who liked those parts of me. In New Jersey, I wasn't used to talking to people in person while wearing a light brown skirt and holding a tan pocketbook. I only talked to people over the phone, that was the preferred method, but I had a feeling things would change.


I was a writer too, just like Mrs. Kane. I wrote for catalogs. I started the year I went into college, sort of fell into it, it was a part-time job, one I started seven years ago. LA was full of writers, sometimes we all met at a coffee shop and talked about the next big project, the great American novel, the script the producers were waiting for. I was able to talk, to assimilate, no one had to know I wrote little bits of descriptions, little tidbits of misinformation.

No one would guess I was quite good at it either. I could write about soup powders, sinks, and showers, creams and lotions, even jackhammers and motorboats. And everything was the best. Sometimes the companies sent me things so I could feel them, write a more detailed description, smell and taste it in my hands. Sometimes I got lucky and they sent me dresses, sweaters, lip gloss. None of the clothes they sent ever fit, they were usually seconds, they were usually extra small. I was a medium, maybe not. I was 5'8" and 145 pounds, a perfect size 12. If I was sent shoes, women's shoes, they were always a 4 or a 6, I took an 8 and a half. If I was sent foundations, falls or eyebrow pencils, they were for darker-skinned women, I was quite white, quite pale, and reddish blonde. It didn't matter, I always tried extra hard when I wrote for women's catalogs, that was my preferred periodical, that was what I was born to do.

Needless to say, my garage sales in LA were slightly legendary. Everything the catalog companies sent me, I put in boxes and got prepared to sell at the next sale. I had a garage sale twice a month for years.

After I lived with my mother and before I moved to Martinsville I lived in a nice part of Burbank, with only six houses on the block. One of my 'Uncles' was into real estate he knew so many people, he made me buy the small house on the small block, it wasn't that much money. Years later, I sold it for twice as much as I paid for it. It was so cute, it had a big kitchen, two bedrooms, and a nice yard. It also had that garage I was talking about.

"How much for the tires?"

"How 'bout twenty bucks for all four?"

"Okay great." Another customer went away happy, happier than when they woke up, I liked that.

"Anyone in the mood for coffee?" I always offered something to drink, and something to nosh on, I wanted everyone to stay, I liked the company. It was more like a block party than a block sale and the five families next to me all came out and sold last year's toys, magazines and dead relatives china. Kate, the woman next door always gave me what was left, stored everything in the garage for next time. Once we were done I would drop the money I made into a 'Hello Kitty' PVC bank, the bank came with the house, I found it in the garage. That money was my rainy day fund, I didn't even know how much there was. I really didn't care. I just wanted to close the garage and get dressed up, slip on one of my new outfits, try on my new breast forms and wig. I wanted the wonderfulness and company of the sale day to wash over me, I wanted the pressure of my life to dissipate.


Another Friday, another long skirt, gray this time. No more navel gazing but I did have a slit right up to the top of my thigh, almost showing off my light grey satin panty. I made sandwiches, I brought thermoses full of Mojitos, last time it was bloody Marys and before that chocolate milk. I wore a white tank top that was cut, quite low showing off my breast forms.

I was quite used to talking to a man by now. "Is it okay?" I pointed to my chest. "Is it too revealing?"

He laughed, he shook his head, I guess he didn't mind. We had our rum, lime, and mint, it was a nice afternoon, even though it was a little cold.

He moved closer to me, he had his hand on my smooth completely hairless arm. "I realized last night that we don't know each other's names."

I looked at him mid sip. I was embarrassed giving him my name, I didn't even know why, but I wasn't that embarrassed showing off my cleavage. Now I thought that... was crazy. I finally told him my name. "I'm Sabrina. I have had this name since I was around, mmm, ten, going on eleven."

"Really? My mother gave me mine when I was born, I'm Owen, Owen Scholz." And he put out his hand, I took it and made an extra effort in giving him a nice firm handshake. "Ha, you shake like a girl."

"Thank you."

We stayed on the rock and talked until it was too dark to see, only my pale skin and white top were noticeable. Owen was in dark blue, he faded out as soon as the afternoon drifted away. As soon as the sun said goodbye.

We took a ride and he showed me his trees, his flowers, his farm. I was going backward again, I was on the backseat, my legs crossed, holding my wide-brimmed hat on my head. I had my eyes closed some of the time, the rum felt wonderful in my system. "Owen?"


"We should go out in a car one day."

He laughed, "What, you don't like my mower?"

"No, no I do, but I would like to watch you drive, I feel kind of alone looking back to where we were. I feel like I am time traveling."

"Ha, sure. How about tomorrow night? We can go out to dinner, I would love to take you to Sommerville, it has so many restaurants and shops."

Now I was nervous, I didn't want to go anywhere, especially on a Saturday night. I just wanted to stay in the car. I didn't want to meet anyone, I was probably going to be overdressed. Coincidentally, I knew the exact dress I would wear on our first date, the exact heels, the exact color of lipstick. I'm sure I was planning this in my mind since we met, maybe I was ready for my first date away from California.

After being quiet for so long I said, "Okay."


My favorite 'Uncle' was a lawyer, a financial analyst, a mover, and a shaker, whatever that was. He takes care of my money. When he inevitably broke up with my mother he still took care of it, he said I was his favorite client. I remember Uncle Creme walked into my backyard in LA once after a successful garage sale. He stood in the alleyway blocking the sun with his huge body and executive-styled suit. I feel like this is where my life started, where everything didn't come together but came completely unraveled. This was the moment my life fell apart.

I was just shutting off the sprinklers, I was going to be out then back in, quick, quick. I didn't want the neighbors to see a woman with long blonde hair and a short pink dress, but I also didn't want to change. I wasn't ready to show the world how I avoided being anxious, I wasn't ready to share.

"Oh, I'm sorry." It was the Uncle, he was looking at my legs. I had on six-inch pink platform pumps, holding a little pink bag. "I was looking for..."

I knew who he was looking for. I was quiet, I was thinking I could lie. I could lie and embellish just like my mother, I was a writer, a professional liar.

But I didn't. "Um, it's just me."

"Oh, right." He looked a little closer, he wasn't too surprised. "Your mother told me that sometimes you were a girl, I have a nephew, well niece, who is like that too. Or so I heard." He smiled, and reached into his leather briefcase, took out some papers, handed me a pen. "I need you to sign here." So I did. "Sign here and here." And I did again. I didn't ask, I always did whatever he said. I did the same thing after I turned eighteen, he and an associate made me sign over a dozen papers and legal forms, today was a breeze compared to that.

"Here too?"

"Mmm-mmm." And then I was done. I looked over the short fence, the next-door neighbors were outside watching us, all four of them.

"That is a great color, sometimes pink is good." Kate next door called over to me. "Sometimes."

Uncle Creme smiled, he nodded to the handsome family, he smiled toward me, and said goodbye. "I will call on Monday." And he did. He called and asked if I was a girl full-time, he asked if I was going to a doctor, he asked if I had enough clothes, enough things to keep me occupied. I told him starting now, yes, yes, and definitely yes. That was the moment I became the genuine me, but my life was still just about to fall apart.

I didn't mind being caught, if that's even the right term, what is being caught anyway? The only thing I minded was that my mother told people, told my 'Uncles.' I thought it was a secret. I didn't mind her telling Creme, but the others, well the less they knew about me the better. Most of them were quite creepy.

She made such a big deal about me dressing up when I was younger. She always made me hide in my bedroom, hide from her boyfriends. She made me do my girlie laundry at night. That's the main reason I moved out on my own, even before the ink on my college diploma was dry.

I now had my own bedroom with a closet full of outfits and heels, I had a vanity full of makeup and false lashes, I had drawers full of brushes and curling irons.

I had thick curtains on the windows.

I slunk back into the house. Then I got a call.

"Hi, beautiful, it's me, I got you a date. Come over to the house tomorrow at one. And for god's sake no pink." My neighbor Kate got me a date. I wasn't looking forward to this one bit.


Life was better in the future, in the east than it was in the past, on the west coast. I had the curtains and windows open, October in New Jersey was cool and comforting. I never saw or even talked to my mother or even Kate anymore. I was completely cut off from LA.

I finished putting on my makeup, fixing my long hair. I could spend hours on both. Foundation, concealer, I had perfect blue eyes, I had a necklace with a little gem that matched them perfectly. I had on my long lashes, my blue eyeliner, my thicker than usual eyebrows. I started growing my hair when I left my mother's house. three years of strawberry blonde, making its way down my back, my bra strap. I spent so much time with my curling iron, trying to get a look and curl that I loved. I had long fingernails, darker pink, matching my lipstick and toes.

"Well look at you, you look quite wonderful." The girl in the mirror told me. I smiled, I knew I looked wonderful, I always did. I think if I wasn't so pretty I probably wouldn't even do this. You know, the girl thing. I wouldn't have the stomach for it. I could always slip into the crowds in LA, right down the end of my block. Even when I got older, LA was busy, I felt part of the crowd, I didn't stand out. I snuck out at night or drove in my car for hours, I love pressing the gas while wearing six-inch heels, I love practicing my voice while singing the love songs on the radio, but now, HERE in New Jersey, well that was a completely different sitch.

My makeup was done, I stood up, I was getting ready for Owen, a man. I wanted to show off my legs, my boobs, my sparkling personality. I wanted to show someone I could easily fit into a family neighborhood in the middle of New Jersey. I had on conservative beige sheer to the waist pantyhose, barely concealing my white panties. They had roses on the stitching, they were beautiful, they were too sexy for this heart of darkness called Martinsville. I had on my C-cup white bra. It was holding my breast forms, I was showing perfect cleavage again. I had a beige collar around my neck, covering my seam, right above my necklace. I posed for a little while, practiced my stance, practiced checking my nails. I was a big one for being prepared. I didn't have to look at the clock once.

My dress for the night was a light salmon, a light pink. Years ago, back in LA I had a date with a man, he was a relative of my neighbor Kate, she wouldn't let me wear pink. It was a disaster. I always felt if I wore pink, things would of went smoother, easier. Pink was calming. That night I wore teal. It was the last time I wore teal, I sold the dress very cheaply at one of my garage sales, it had stains on the front, so I let someone else make a go of it. I gave the woman who bought it heels that were much too big for her, but they matched perfectly. I gave her a nice expensive teal pocketbook and I threw in some perfume samples and Braxton Hicks pamphlets, she said thank you six times. I never saw her again, I hoped everything worked out for the best. I hoped she was able to get those stains out.


"Hello," I answered my phone, I was just about to slip into my five-inch beige platform heels.

"I should be there in fifteen, okay."

"Okay. I can't wait." And I hung up.

The funny thing was, I could wait, I had no racing pulse, no loud exhausting heartbeat, no sweating or bile making its way up my throat. Everything was kind of fine. Being a girl made everything better, even my apprehensiveness. When I moved into the Morrison's old house I was female, always Sabrina, it was wonderful. I even started seeing a doctor a couple of towns away to help with my transition. I sold all of my male clothes at one of the last garage sales in LA, with several other things. Other things I don't even want to think about. My Hello Kitty bank was probably full, it now sat proudly in my office, it kept watch on all the goodies I was getting prepared to sell again, all the gadgets and clothes I have collected since moving to New Jersey. Too bad I didn't have a garage, I had a carport instead.

"Look at those lashes." The girl in the mirror said to me. I could tell she was happy with the length, even the color, I could tell she was proud of me for going on a date.

I always felt too self-conscious, too nervous, and too glamorous for this side of the States. On the west coast, LA was so different, everyone was in a costume, an eye-catching outfit, on the way to a prom or a movie opening. I could easily slip myself between all the gorgeous people in the town, all the crazies, all the people somewhere on the rainbow or over it. But here in Martinsville, I would need practice, I stood out way too much, my hair, my nails, my outfits. I was so happy to find a rock.

Thinking back to when I first moved here, it took a whole two months to venture out. I was done fixing up the house, painting the walls, buffing the floors. One afternoon I wore a nice dark blue dress and heels. Made my way to the right, just a couple of blocks, suddenly I was too close to the stores. I was suddenly at a traffic stop, three cars waited for me to cross, I was so nervous. My dress was so short, reaching mid-thigh, my heels were five inches with a two-inch platform, my hair was blowing backward because of the slight summer breeze showing off my big golden hoops. The car in front waved me on to pass, I didn't want to move further away from my house, but I did, I had to, they expected it. I crossed in front of the cars, more on the other side watching me, I just advanced forward, I forgot where I was, it was a hard thing to accomplish. Once I made it to the other corner, I turned down a quieter block, I finally breathed, I leaned against a fence, I slightly sobbed. I was too nervous seeing all those faces. I was shaking, the tin green slats in the fence were shaking with me. I had to make my way back, I went a completely different way.

The second time I went straight. I ended up across from a huge four-lane highway, a route. Cars and trucks sailing by me. I couldn't go any further. I heard a couple of beeps, a couple of air horns, it made me too tense. I didn't want to walk on the side of the road, the dust and dirt ruining my new heels. I headed back exhausted through someone's backyard. I went home and took a long bath.

The third time I went left, it was early afternoon, it was quiet. I walked six blocks.

I had the only house on my little block, I was surrounded by trees, a field, and more trees. As I made my way left the neighborhood houses started to stack up, six, then ten, then twenty, then a townhouse development, then I was half a block away from a school. Adults were outside waiting for the kids to leave for the day, cars parked, double-parked. I stood off to the side. I watched, I wished I was picking up someone. I wished I was making plans with the mothers and fathers checking their phones, holding their dogs, talking to the teachers. I felt myself start to feel sad, I hated when I got like this, I became envious and lonely.

"Oh my god. I'm late." I heard a woman behind me, she smiled when I turned around surprised. "I'm always late." She shrugged and jogged. I watched her head to the fence in front of the school, take the hands of two little children. She walked back towards me, I couldn't move. It was nice before when someone was talking to me, I was hoping she would talk to me again, I would be more prepared. I smiled as she got close. "Next time since you are so early, I will have YOU pick up the kids, ta ta." She giggled, she walked even closer.

"Okay, I would love that. I'm ALWAYS early" She smiled as she made her way passed me, I waved to the boy and girl and they waved back. They were all strawberry blonde like me. Everyone else in the town was black, brown, or mousy brown, and here I was in a crowd of strawberry blondes. I went home happy, I made plans to visit this school some more. Soon I was in the exact same spot two to three times a week, after school, amidst all the little crowds. I just wanted to watch the life of this little town, see how things progressed, see how I was supposed to act. See if I could fit in. Say hello to the little girl and boy again.

"Hi, hope school was fun."

"It was, I could see you in your pretty red dress from my classroom." The little girl smiled and I watched the three of them walk away.

Then one day, emboldened, I went backward, behind my house, through the trees and the little field. That was where I found... the Rock.


Owen was at the door, he rang the bell. We have officially known each other for over a month, almost six weeks. Eleven times we met at Kane's rock, this would be our first time out, out to dinner in the next little town. I would have to let people see and watch me, watch me on a date.

"Wow, I came to take Sabrina out to dinner, but I think I would much rather take you. Whoever you are."

My mouth was open, I made an O with my lips, "Well, I never." He laughed, I giggled, I took his hand.

"Well, maybe you should." He handed me flowers, yellow, green, and white, as I showed him my dress, my house, my home, then finally... my libraries.

"This room is all fiction."

"So does that mean it doesn't exist?" He turned around amused.

"Ooh maybe," And he walked inside investigating the spines, his fingers on the titles. Speculative, drama, romance, comedy, graphic. He was admiring the shelves surrounding the room. Admiring my comfy chair and perfect lamp for reading. His hand caressed the arm, the softness of the seat. He even checked the wattage of the bulb. He shook his head, he seemed to approve.

Next, I brought him to my office, where I wrote. I held his hand, we looked into the room from the doorway. Hello Kitty looked down on us as he kissed my neck. "Mmm, you smell so good, you always do."

"Do I?"

"Ha, you know that you do." And then he kissed me on the lips, right in the middle of my smile.

I slowly pulled away, it was nice being in his arms, I couldn't wait until it happened again. I was nervous, I tried to change the subject. "Um, this is where I work, these are all catalogs, these are the things I am currently working on." And I told him about my job, I showed him the items destined for a different garage sale. "If you would like something, you can have it."

He was watching me as I went through the crazy toys, gadgets, and clothes that were on the tables and extra shelves I had set up. "Can I have this?" His hands went around my thin waist. His lips went back on my neck, soon his lips went back onto mine. We kissed, our tongues danced, his fingers played with my bra strap. It was our first proper kiss. On the rock, we hugged quite a few times, we lightly kissed and petted, it was quite exciting, especially since it was outside. He liked how I giggled and listened and I liked how he smiled, talked to me. Most times I let him kiss me goodbye, a quick peck on my lips, on my steps, inches from the old Morrison house. I couldn't tell if he was comfortable with me at first, knowing I wasn't a hundred percent female, I didn't want to ask. He always liked what I wore, he constantly felt the material, even my legs, I loved all the male attention he would give me and my outfits.

I knew he liked what I was wearing now, I was always dressed too sexy for this part of New Jersey, for that famous rock, but in my house, in front of all my mirrors, I could dress the way I feel. I could even dress up for a man. Now here he was holding his stomach against mine, our mouths tightly together, our hands investigating each others bodies. I have been waiting for some intimacy like this from him for weeks, waiting for it to ramp up. I felt him get hard and push against my belly so I stopped kissing him. Smiling, I brought him to the last library.

"I like this one the best." I pointed and he had a grin on his face as he leaned into my bedroom, smelled the cinnamon. My room was filled with pinks, marroons, and eggshell whites. It was my favorite place in the world. We walked in and once again he looked at all the spines of the books on my wooden shelves. "These are all biographies, non-fiction?"

"Mmm, do you read those types of books?"

"I do, I read everything. I see you sleep surrounded by the truth, but you relax surrounded by lies."

"I guess, it's mainly the proximity to something light to grab before bed, to fall asleep to. I don't want anything too extreme to invade my dreams, they are sometimes a little extreme without any help at all."

He stopped looking through the paperbacks and took me into his arms again, we kissed, he then kissed my neck again right above the collar. "I have been wanting to kiss you since the first time I saw you on the Rock, ha, but I am so glad I waited."

"Me too. I needed to be prepared."

He grinned as his lips made their way around my clavicle, above my forms, back into my hair. I was surrounded by my bed, my shelves, my romantic pictures, and paintings on my wall. My room smelled like pumpkin spice. I could tell he liked my perfume even better, I could tell he liked the way I felt in his arms, the way he was squeezing me. For a moment I forgot where I was.

"Um, Sabrina, who's that?"


The End (Part 1 or 4)

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Very Erotic

joannebarbarella's picture

Without being at all lewd. Your stories often have a slightly dreamlike quality. This one has it in spades.

Now, are Sabrina and Owen actually going to make it to dinner?

Heading into town... Soon...

Sabrina G Langton's picture

Ha... they do, eventually... Our heroine has to fill us in on more of her backstory for some reason, ha... Thank you so much Joanne for reading...

Very interesting start

gillian1968's picture

But who interrupted them?

I think it conveys a tone of musing, as Sabrina describes what she is experiencing but then reflects on her past.

Gillian Cairns


Sabrina G Langton's picture

Exactly, Gillian, she is getting disrupted with her thoughts on her past, while she is supposed to be telling us what is happening now, ha... Oh, and most of the background is explained in chapter two... thanks again...

One of the lucky ones

She passes without any trouble at all, unlike most of us.

Sometimes we get lucky

Sabrina G Langton's picture

I know when I was younger I felt like I never passed at all, even though I had friends that told me otherwise. It wasn't until I was older and had more confidence that I was able to relax more and 'feel' like I was passing. Thank you Wendy for reading...