Allison Zero - Book 1 - Part 8

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A dark metallic hallway on a space station, functional and industrial with signs of advanced technology, with a large hexagonal window with a view of a star field.

With Dr. Grace assuaging Allison’s fear about the pain she found herself in, after the feminising medication, Allison is mostly content with the pain pills managing the soreness. Everything with her new tobacco job for One is on hold, for the moment, while she recovers. And she’s had lunch, needing to eat well to fuel the changes her body is going through. But she doesn’t know what else to do; what she can do.

What exactly do women, with no employment, and no ability—at least usually—to drink and dine out on fancy meals, actually occupy their days with? At least Allison has Angie to keep her company. The question is will Angie ever stop eating the mountain of food she bought with the effects of the tasting smoke still lingering? Will they ever get to the library she mentioned? Why even read fiction? And will men continue to bother the woman who’s been told she needs to walk the station, for the sake of her health?

Angie looked long and hard at a chicken tender, considering it from every angle before she finally said, “No. Can’t do it.”

Allison sighed with relief. She’d been finished her burger for thirty minutes; Angie obviously a slow eater with the effects of the tasting tobacco still lingering with her. She’d savoured every bite as she explained to Allison what she was experiencing with the food in great, flowery detail.

After so long watching Angie Allison’s mind turned back to the amount of money in her balance; a huge amount. More than she’d ever had before. She had nothing to spend it on, though. Nothing that came to mind. She could scavenge clothes from the apartments One gave her access to, the surrounding apartments neighbouring hers on the secure floor. She could even find shoes there, she assumed. She’d need underwear and stockings, of course, but apart from that?

Sure, there were a few people she vaguely knew of who could get good meals, to anyone, and alcohol to women if they found a party floor to receive them on, for a price. Jenny said her bar was open to her, Angie, and Adam, even though it was expensive, and Allison understood why; Jenny had tobacco there, and anyone could get food and drink there. Apart from that what was there to life? She was even still registered for her weekly woman’s stipend considering women didn’t really get jobs until they turned forty, and not even then if they didn’t want them.

“The money, Angie? What do I do with it?” Allison eventually asked. Angie was still looking at the food on her tray, a sizeable amount of it demolished by her methodical eating.

Angie tore her eyes from a chicken nugget—different in texture and coating to a chicken tender, she had thought aloud to the nobody who was listening—then looked at Allison and said, “Save it. What else?”

“You spend money, Angie. That’s what it’s for, to make your life better.”

Angie laughed. “Apart from the pain you’re in, which means it’s time for some more pills—now that I think of it—your life is pretty good. It’s certainly taken an upswing.”

“Save it for what, then?” Allison asked.

“Spend it on what?” Angie snapped off in return.

“That’s my point!”

Angie shrugged. “Who knows what comes up? I just know older women are always telling younger women to save, save, save. I think they keep secrets from us. Some magical wisdom that comes as your boobs grow apart. Speaking of which, how are yours?”

Allison twisted her mouth at the side, sucking air through her teeth, and said, “Glad for the bra. My nips, at least.”

“Yeah, we need to find you some medication. I can’t keep giving you my own. It’ll show up on my records if I keep getting as much as you seem to need. It could cause Dr. Grace hassle explaining if it gets flagged by the computers.”

Allison nodded. “OK. That’s fair, we can do that. Then we walk? That’s what Dr. Grace said to do.”

“I’ll take you to a library, you can stretch your legs as we go. Let me get a bag for this food. That’s the beauty of this place, they’ll let you take it away as long as you don’t bring it anywhere you shouldn’t.”

Angie stood, carrying both trays to the counter, where the server packed the remnants of Angie’s food into a paper bag, then put that paper bag inside another, along with some napkins. It was all very polite, on the surface, the man doing his job, but Allison could see the man’s annoyance bubbling through as Angie jabbered and jabbered at him.

Eventually Angie beckoned Allison, long after her food had been packed away, and the two began the trek to the library.

Along the way they called into a bathroom to stock up on the freely available medication for Allison.

Allison didn’t know why—all her ID scans had shown her to be nothing but female—but she still felt some trepidation scanning into the public toilet, then getting the medication out of the dispensers. As she did so her ID showed up on the screen before the two vials dropped out, it was all good.

Angie told Allison libraries didn’t have bathrooms, to stop women spending all day in them and not enticing men, and being enticed by men, into, ‘making babies,’ so if she needed to go she should go. Which she did. And it was a surprise.

Meeting Angie outside the toilet after the dry-wash cleansed her hands she had to say something. “The ads?! In the stall!!” Allison said.


“Are they normal?”

“Which one did you get?” Angie asked.

“It was telling me to volunteer my panties to a man after sex. To let him keep them. That I’d feel good walking home knowing I’d been taken care of, feeling the free air of pleasure up my skirt, and that I’d given him a souvenir for his collection.”

Angie shook her head. “That’s a common one. And do give him your panties! If he’s any good... Maybe you’ll get another go around. What man did you get?”

“What do you mean?”

“On the screen? In the ad? Which man did it show you volunteering your panties to?”

“Blond, muscly, tanned. Very muscly. Huge!”

“He’s a nice one,” Angie said. “Great cock!”

“What do you mean, ‘He’s a nice one?’ Cocks? What the hell, Angie!? Does this always happen? Every time you go to the bathroom?”

Angie looked at Allison with total confusion. “Of course! Do men not get ads?”

“Not with a picture of women, or of you giving her your underwear! They’re usually job listings, or telling you to get checked up by a carer, or how to lift things properly. And there’s no pictures of naked women! And certainly no booming voices flirting whore-ishly.”

Angie shrugged. “That makes sense, men are horny enough.”

“I wasn’t!!” Allison said.

“Yeah, for obvious reasons. That are getting fixed! Anyway, I hope you took your medications. Now come on, we need to stroll and let the lovely gentleman watch us for their thrills.”

Allison made a loud, gasping, irritated noise; feeling her throat close.

“Oh please, you love it!” Angie said. “Sway your ass a little, maybe you’ll get a grope or two. I can already see the heels are giving your bottom a little shake. More than is natural.” She winked at Allison. As slutty a wink as the woman’s voice in the ad was slutty, then she laughed.

After thirty minutes, with a few approaches quickly batted away by Angie, they were arriving to a nondescript door off a little alleyway on an only half-occupied, quiet floor. “See that was easy! A nice walk, getting ogled and being appreciated”

“Why are men so weird? They were sickening!” Allison said.

“It’s the weekend, you’ve seen nothing yet. Weekends are party days, they know if they keep trying someone will be up for it. Wait until you get latched onto during the week. Now swipe!”

Allison swiped the attachment to her conn, on her wrist, against the pad, and the door quickly slid back. Angie swiped too and they both walked in. Allison with relief.

Inside was a room, not too small, but not even approaching the size of a popular bar. There were chairs littered around the room, not quite armchairs, but equally not schoolroom style ass-and-back-breaking chairs either; some exposed struts and armrests, but also cushioning. They were comfortable looking, if not luxurious. Between a few chairs were low tables, with the occasional bottle of water and sometimes a bottle of a soft drink on them, women sitting back in the chairs reading, a few conversing among themselves.

There was one large group having an animated conversation, with chairs pulled into a circle; the women mostly around Angie and Allison’s age. And there was shelf after shelf with screens inlaid into them, display text and pictures.

A man approached both Angie and Allison and introduced himself as ‘Prod.’ He held one hand conspicuously in the air, for a reason Allison couldn’t figure out for a few seconds, until she realised his nails were being painted, and his, so far, three painted nails were still wet. “New member?” Prod asked.

“My friend, Allison,” Angie said.

“Court-ruling-Allison... Hmm... It is our privilege!” Prod said. “Have you joined a library before?”

“No. Didn’t even really know about them,” Allison said.

“I’m sorry you had to go through the ordeal you did before finding our lovely home.” Allison didn’t know if Prod meant the ordeal was the court ruling, or if he kind of knew who she was before she was Allison. He was obviously clued into something if he was getting his nails painted. He wasn’t an idiot young man.

“Can we get her an unleashed package?” Angie asked.

“Of course. There’s a fee to join, Allison. It shouldn’t be onerous, not with your unleashed money. You can take out three books at a time, combined, from any library you’re a member of. You can return a novel from anywhere on the station, please do if you’re finished with it, sometimes people are waiting on them. Some novels are shared between all general libraries, all libraries have their own unique stories, we’re a general fiction library. If you want to become a senior member, and have full access you need to write something we, the great board of approval, approve of—the board of approval bit is a joke, we just have to think a few people might enjoy it. For another fee you’ll get access to a computer you can write your application story up on. You’re always free to type it on your conn, but, of course, no keyboard! That’s it, isn’t it Angie?” Prod said, as he finished his introduction.

“I think so,” Angie said. She stuck her hand with the bag of food in it out towards Prod. “Some food—doctor approved—Prod. If you’ve spotted any reader having a bad day, someone who doesn’t want to brave the knuckle draggers, or who’s exhausted from writing. Or for yourself, of course. It’s cold by now, though.”

Prod took the bag, gave a quick look inside it, and gave it a sniff, put it down then gave Angie a thumbs up and a wink, then picked up a blue conn—a business conn—and showed Allison the nitty gritty of joining, and the prices.

“Yeah, that’s all fine,” Allison said, swiping her approval then confirming it on the business conn. It would have made an impression on her male welcoming money, a few years ago, a small one on the welcome to the station, new arrival money she just received, and would barely scratch the money she got from One and Des for her smoke.

Prod held up another device and held it out to Allison. “You’ll need to sync for this,” he said. “Unleashed package.” He looked back at his nails, fingers spreading and raising them upright.

Allison took her conn from her purse and authorised the sync, and a new symbol appeared in her menu, then a few seconds later another.

“The reader symbol is for books. It’s more comfortable on the eyes when reading text. Like actual paper. The other will show you where the library is and what the library is about, on each specific floor, when you enter a floor. Most readers check when they arrive somewhere, and frequently. Styles in a library can change over time.

“And you’ll get a feed of book ads to your conn every day. Just suggestions. I’d suggest not reading the feed before bed lest you rush out to get a book before it’s all checked out by other, eager library members. There’s always something to read and we all need our beauty sleep.” Prod waggled his fingers, and Allison saw the three painted nails were now shimmering. “A member here is opening a business soon, she wants practice,” he said, seeing Allison looking. “What am I for but to serve?”

Angie laughed at that. “There is something, Prod. Have you ever heard of a food library? Books about food?”

“You know it’s novels only unless you’re in training, and you’re not forty yet. Or a man, I hope!”

Angie laughed again. “Please! Neither of us want to work. And Allison isn’t really unleashed, she just spent years being the laziest woman on the station, you know? Almost entirely content to lay around and giggle at parties, not even trying to get pregnant... I mean stories about food. Not how to cook, or nutrition, or anything like that.”

Prod rubbed his hand, the one with unpainted fingers, through an extremely well kept beard, the style of beard a man in his fifties who’d worn a beard all his life would keep if he’d run out of looks to play with, and if he wasn’t striving to impress anyone; rather he just wanted a neat beard. Although Prod looked late-thirties, at most.

“No, I haven’t, I’m afraid. Do you want me to make a note of it? I’ll ask around my fellows. We can try to find you some suggestions of fiction you might like.”

Angie was nearly bouncing with excitement, certainly verging on shaking with excitement. “I’ve interested you in something!? In finding new books?” she said, with a huge smile. “I’ve actually caused a curiosity!”

Prod laughed. “That you have. Your first?” he asked.

“Yeah!” Angie said, gasping in air as she said the word rather than exhaling as she spoke, almost to the point of choking.

“It’s a good one, too. I’ll be the envy of the staff get together after my shift. Well done!”

Angie let out a little squeal of joy. “And it’s a good one!” she said, in raptures. “Fuck me!!” Her voice had turned gravely, almost lustful, as she swore.

Prod clicked his tongue at Angie in approval. “Go on, I’m sure Allison is desperate to get reading. If you want a dictionary we can sell you a permanent one, Allison. I’d suggest trying to get by for as long as you can in junior libraries without it. Pick up meaning up by context. And read the stories in order, for the best experience. First, second, then third book as they appear. OK?”

“OK,” Allison said, nodding, clutching her conn.

“You’ll message me?” Angie asked. “If—”

Prod tapped the side of his head. “Already noted up here and I’ll get to my computer—after my nails are done and approved by the soon-to-be-business-woman—and make an official record of your request.” Angie clapped her hands together, obviously smitten by Prod.

Then she led Allison to some seats opposite each other with a table between them. She sat, then Allison sat, and both crossed their legs, Allison looking at Angie, unsure.

“What do I do now?” Allison asked.

“Read? Unless you want to browse. The unleashed package will help with what you want to browse for though. That’s what it’s designed for.”

“How do I—”

Angie rolled her eyes. “You did read fiction in school. There’s no difference. It’s not some big challenge, there’s no hidden mystery; just go with it, have fun. If you don’t want to read we’ll go for a walk and find some men.”

“No! No! I’ll read... Jenny did say I’d appreciate it... With my descriptions of the smokes being writerly, I suppose.”

“Too right!” Angie said.

So Allison did read. And quickly the room faded away. She finished the first book with ease, time seeming irrelevant as she read; an anthology of short stories. They were like what she’d read when she was a teen, but they seemed far more relevant to her life, even when they were about historical and fantasy worlds, or meeting aliens, or even just two people drinking coffee, and talking.

She’d quickly begun on the second book, immediately after finishing the first, another book of short stories. She was only a few pages in when she noticed a stirring between her legs. She didn’t notice it immediately but when she did she realised she was slowly getting aroused, and had been since the second page. She kept reading. It felt great, like nothing she’d ever felt before. It came and went, and she enjoyed it immensely. It was like a glow. And she squirmed both inside, and in her seat. She wanted to touch herself, to massage herself, but not like when she was a man. She wanted to make the feeling more intense but not for a purely sexual, orgasmic reason. Rather to simply feel it, to experience the joy more fully.

Every few paragraphs, sometimes multiple times a paragraph, sometimes even within a sentence she found herself thinking of Robert. Thinking of him playing with her. And of her playing with him, like he was obviously enjoying playing with her feet, the day before. He was a foot freak but he was kind. It wasn’t weird in any way, it was honest. And that’s what the story was about, really. It certainly wasn’t about sex, or freaky anything It was just about people opening up to each other. Allison didn’t know why this had her so inflamed.

She quickly found herself putting down the reader and messaging Robert, asking to meet up with him. Then she got back to the story.

When she finished she simply stared straight ahead, not knowing what to think. Not able to read any more.

After a couple of minutes Angie looked up at Allison’s empty gaze. “Pain?”

“A bit...” Allison said.

“You’re well past your medication time. Maybe it isn’t as bad? Three plus one. Doctor’s orders. Or suggestion.”

Allison grabbed her purse and took out the medication dispensing vials, clicking out what she need, taking them. “The pain is still there. I don’t know, I’m distracted,” she said, standing.

She walked absent-mindedly to where Prod was sitting, all his nails now rippling in a dark, shimmering blue. “Everything OK?” he asked.

“I can’t return the first book,” Allison said.

“That the unleashed package, that’s permanent. You’ll still be able to take three regular loan books out. Every few years people like to go back to that package, to revisit it. They’re good stories. Which was your favourite from the first anthology?”

“I’m not too sure, maybe the coffee one, but the first one in the second anthology... It has me, I don’t know?”

Prod closed one eye and turned his head sideways at Allison, inquisitively. “That’s interesting,” he said. “Usually women don’t come to appreciate that one until they’re a bit older. Sometimes never. Would you read more like it?”

Allison nodded. Prod picked up a conn and tapped something out, and soon the strap on Allison’s wrist vibrated, telling her she had a notice.

“Read the rest of the package, then I think you might like the one I sent to you,” Prod said, a generous smile on his face.

“Is that why you’re called Prod? You poke and prod people in the right direction?”

“It’s a title, not a name. All library workers like me are called Prod. And you’re correct. You’re more in need of a delicate nudge, though,” he said, and his smile grew wider. “Less forceful.” He laughed a gentle laugh. “Try not to read the blurb on that novel, go into it fresh. No expectations.”

“Thank you,” Allison said, turning away and wandering back to Angie, wondering what exactly it was about the story she’d read that had her confused, and something more...

Allison’s wrist vibrated again and she checked her conn. It was a message from Robert. Her whole body tightened at the thought of him. She read his message.

“Robert says to meet him at Rowan’s,” Allison said to Angie, squirming. “Are you ready to walk again?”

Angie packed away her conn as she said, “Foot freaks and shoe stores... He’s nice but are you ready for him to be slobbering on your toes?”

“Shut up. I bet you’ve let a guy do it to you!”

Angie shrugged and they left the library, making their way to the Rowan’s store.

When they arrived the door was locked, despite the lights and sign being on. Allison figured it must have just closed, so she began to look around for Robert.

Passing her eyes up and down the promenade for him she heard Rowan’s door open, and she was about to turn to ask Rowan if Robert had been around, when she felt an arm spin her around, then a mouth on hers, then a tongue pushing past her lips, with an unburdened passion.

Robert wrapped his arms around her, gripping Allison tight, lifting her off the ground, and physically carried her into Rowan’s, Allison having no chance to think to object to these events. And given they were happening she was thinking she might not want to object.

They kept kissing, but not for long enough, at least for Allison. Robert broke away from her. “Thank you,” they both said, but in two entirely different tones, Allison the more dreamy of the two. Robert’s tone exhilaration.

“I have a job!” Robert said.

Allison wondered what he was saying, a look of confusion on her face.

“Here! In Rowan’s store!” he continued.

Allison shook her head. “What? That’s not possible! Men can’t work in stores like this.”

“It has to be you! Or something to do with you. There’s something special about you; the court ruling... This morning I had a message from the Governor’s office, telling me to report to Rowan’s store for the day!” He kissed Allison again. Allison wished he’d keep kissing her, forever.

“It’s one day a week, either on a weekend or another day off. I don’t get paid, but I do get store credit. I don’t know how it happened!”

Rowan was sitting at the till. “It could work out. Maybe a selling point? A man’s opinion on sexy shoes? I got a message from the Governor’s office last night. Said I could hire him if I wanted. It means I don’t have to close when I need a break. And he’s a cheap worker, all store credit, like he said.” She shrugged.

Allison considered how she could have done this, if it was down to her. The only people she talked to about Robert, or really it was only a single person—apart from her friends—was Des. Did voters have that much power? That they could change laws in an instant? Or get exceptions?

She thought better of mentioning it to anyone. She didn’t know who Des was. Given the amount he tipped her, though, he could be quite important. Then she realised she didn’t even know much money voters got paid. Or if they even did get paid. Des said voters just love to work.

“I don’t know if I did anything,” Allison said.

“Miss Secrets, here,” Angie said, scoffing.

“What shoes do you need? Or want? Or crave?” Robert asked. “Is that OK, Rowan?”

Rowan nodded, a big smile on her face, and understanding in her eyes.

Allison shook her head in refusal but Robert planted her down on one of the benches and began taking her heels off her.

“Anything you need, I’ll find it. I’ll work for weeks to pay it off!”

Rowan laughed. “As a signing bonus, we’ll say. It’s a lot better than you putting them on, Robert. Don’t go too crazy!”

In a calm, patient, caring tone Robert said to Allison, “Describe your desires.”

Angie burst out laughing as Allison glared at her.

Allison lifted her feet up a little, pointed her toes in the air, feeling her joints strain, and said, “I love the heels you got me, I really do, but I have to walk a lot. Doctor’s orders. I’m better on the heels, already, especially with Angie holding me, but my feet will fall off if they’re all I wear. And don’t get me wrong, I do want to—”

Robert squeezed Allison’s ankles. “I know what’ll work.”

He stood, nodded at Allison, and was walking around the corner to the backroom. Both Rowan and Angie were staring at Allison, amusement on their faces. Allison could feel their delight, at her, which she felt making her go bright red, certain that was their intention.

She really did like Robert. More than she ever liked a woman when she was Patryk. It wasn’t about sex, or getting off, it felt like a connection. That she could sit with him. She could imagine the two of them at a movie, happily watching, and sharing popcorn, and not just for the movie, but for spending time around each other. Simply being. It’d make her feel peaceful.

She was away in a dreamworld when Robert arrived back, taking two shoes out of a box.

“Perfect,” Rowan said. “I like those. Great colour.”

They were red, or sort of white-ish red, but not pink. They were both faded in the colour but not from wear, it looked natural despite nothing natural, certainly that you make shoes out of, being that colour.

“How do they look... Alive, I guess it is? I think,” Allison asked.

“Red suede mules, strap around the back, a little bit of a heel but most of the height is in the small platform,” Robert said, as he adjusted the straps to what Allison knew would be her exact measurements. The man knew feet, the weirdo. The weirdo she enjoyed.

Angie rolled her eyes and Allison spotted her, as Robert slipped one shoe onto her foot.

“They’re great. Fur lining, soft, easy to walk in. Hot and cute, but not totally innocent or sweet. Enough heft to them you can do damage if you give someone a kick in the shin. There’s a bit of a threat in them. I actually have a pair,” Rowan said. “And I’ve kicked shins with them!”

Allison stood and bent her knees as she raised and lowered her feet, in her new shoes, taking steps. Feeling the softness of the lining on her stockinged feed. “Yes! They’re great!” she said. “I can walk in these.”

She gave Robert a hug, feeling his stubble bristle against her cheek, and she was reminded of how large a man he was. How sturdy he was. How sure.

It wasn’t obvious how caring he could be from his appearance. And although there was nothing sharp to him he did look tough, or formidable, but once he got talking, or once you saw him smile, all you could see was his softness. Or at least it was all Allison could see. Her soft man.

She remembered, in that instant, she was a man just two days ago. She felt a hollowness in her chest. Was this what she was missing? In that moment she needed to be held.

“Can I kiss you?” she asked Robert, standing in close to him.

He smiled and bent his head to her. This time the kiss was as soft as he was; tender.

“You’re amazing,” Allison said, as the kiss stopped.

“So are you...” he said, sighing.

“Do you want to go for our walk now?”

Robert nodded and picked up Allison’s shoes he bought her the day before, and packed them away in a bag with Rowan’s name on it. Then he took her hand in his, and gently squeezed.

“The bar on 72B, the one you’d sometimes take me to, Allison, that’s where I’ll be waiting for you,” Angie said.

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Allison said, not really paying attention to Angie, or that she was leaving the store.

Allison and Robert walked. Allison found it a lot easier in her almost flat shoes.

Most of their walk the two of them just spent time observing things, pointing out what was happening around them. There was no deep conversations, at least once they stopped theorising about the causes of Robert’s new sort-of-job, although there were a few deep kisses, as well as full-on laughter.

Eventually Robert said he needed a coffee, and that they should meet up with Angie again.

Walking into the bar on 72B you could tell it was a weekend. Being a Sunday it wasn’t as wild as the previous two evenings. People who’d hooked up, mainly younger people, were spending the last of their time with each other, negotiating if and when they’d ‘do it’ again. Or even if they wanted to do it again; if their contact was to be deleted from their conns.

There was a small waiting list for the private rooms, where men were energetically working off their hangovers with whatever woman they’d convinced to play with them. A few people quickly darted out to the dorm, unable to afford or not willing to wait for a private room. Or not caring. There were a few people kissing, some doing more, scattered around the bar, but the bar wasn’t manic.

After a bit of a patrol with her eyes peeled Allison spotted Angie in a booth with a series of glasses in front of her, too many glasses. She dragged Robert over to the table, squeezing herself in next to Angie, thinking she might actually be able to carry Angie back to her apartment given her new shoes. With help from Robert.

There was no issue, though. Angie looked up when Allison arrived and said, “I didn’t actually drink that much, just had fun tasting things. You know, our dining pass, and last night... No trading with men to get me things.”

Angie sounded sober to Allison, and she wasn’t looking unwell, so Allison took her word on it.

“Do you want a drink?” Robert asked Allison.

“A whiskey and cola would be great, if you don’t mind me drinking when you’re not?”

“Not an issue at all,” Robert said, and left to go to the bar.

Angie slapped her hand down Allison’s thigh, and said, “Well!”

Allison did the same move to Angie, and said back, “Well, what?” as she continued thinking of Robert, and their walk, and their kisses.

They both paused. Hands on each others thighs, until Allison eventually turned her head to Angie, unable to ignore Angie’s stare any longer. It was making her uncomfortable.

“Did you thank the man?” Angie asked, interrupting the stare-off with words.

“Robert? Of course. Our walk was fun. I really enjoyed it, just strolling. And watching.”

Angie shook her head. “I mean ‘Did you thank him?’”

“What do you mean by... Oh. OH!! He wouldn’t! Not with who I am! With what I was!” Allison said, not that his body hadn’t been in her mind at various points that day, or even in that moment. Or that she’d object to it.

“What did I say this morning? ‘Cute as a button?’ And anyway, you’ve been kissing and holding hands, he’s buying you drinks, he’s bought you two pairs of shoes, and a purse. Of course he wants you!”

“Really?” Allison asked, intrigued. “How do I..?”

“When he comes back sit in next to him, move your hand up his leg. You’ll get your answer pretty quickly.”

Allison shook her head. “It’s that easy? You just...”

Angie sighed. “You were obviously never a man. Yes, it’s that easy. And you’re looking far away so I know you want to, don’t you?”

Allison took a breath. “Well, I guess I—”

“Whiskey and cola,” Robert said, placing Allison’s glass down in front of her, two straws in it.

He sat into the opposite side of the booth to Allison, who slid her glass back across the table. Then she stood and walked to Robert’s side. Him shuffling up.

As she sat down she crossed her legs after moving up close to him. He was about to put his arm around her when she placed her hand on his crotch, on top of his pants. Within a few seconds it was obvious he was having the reaction Allison hoped he did. At least she thought it was what she was hoping.

Robert touched Allison’s chin to turn her head around to her, then he kissed her. He said, “I think you’re perfect.”

Allison disagreed, at least in her mind, but as Robert reached down to unzip his fly she figured ‘good enough’ would do for now, instead of ‘perfect.’ And this was exactly what she wanted. What was running through her mind since he gave her a piggyback ride.

Grabbing onto him, as they kissed, she began to do what she’d only ever done to herself before. Something Dr. Grace said might not work for Allison in the same way in the future.

As Allison pleased Robert she knew it was a lot more enjoyable to make a man happy, than for her to try to be happy as a man. As she continued she wondered how, exactly, she could be made happy as a woman.

Kissing Robert she also knew she’d figure it out. Maybe even with the man in her hand.

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I’m guessing . . .

Emma Anne Tate's picture

. . . that Allison won’t think that a man in her hand is worth two in her bush . . . .

Sorry. I’ll be leaving now . . . . :)

Nice chapter, Mrs. W!



lisa charlene's picture

wow Emma just wow .your comment brought a smile to my face lol