Easy As Falling Down
by Angharad & Bonzi Cat
part:258

The second night in the hotel suite was even better than the first, Henry had the suite next door, which was plusher than ours, but then he was effectively the owner.

Simon and I snuggled down in the queensize bed. "I hope my bikes weren't damaged," I said, not having had a chance to check on them.

"The garage was still intact when I went there with Tom earlier, and it's our bikes not just yours."

"You bought that bike then?"

"Yes I did, so if I'm not happy with it, woe betide you."

"Woe what? If you're not happy with it that's your tough luck. I told you it was a good bike, I didn't tell you to buy it. Mind you I didn't tell you to buy me the Ruby either, but I'm glad you did, it's a lovely bike."

"See, you have bikes worth thousands of pounds, mine was hundreds. I feel neglected."

"Oh my poor baby, how can I make that up to you?" I lay on top of him and started to kiss him. He began to stroke my breasts and if he was as excited as I was, this was going in one direction only.

His breathing became faster and I could feel him starting to sweat, he was becoming very excited. I reached down to his groin and began to gently squeeze his manhood. He was very very excited and as I went to withdraw my hand, his held it there.

"I want you inside me," I said tersely and kissed him with abandon.

"When we're married, remember I promised you."

"To hell with promises Simon, I want you now." I pulled my hand away from his and grabbed him and tried to push him inside me. He pushed alright, with both hands and I rolled off him.

"I said, no, if you can't respect that, then you can't respect me." He got up out of the bed.

I couldn't believe it, I lay there in shock. I had virtually thrown myself at him and he had reacted like some mediaeval saint repelling a temptation from a succubus. Not only that, but he as good as told me I didn't love him.

I lay there sobbing, what was wrong with him? Didn't he love me? Did he not fancy me? Was the gender thing still and issue? Was he gay? A dozen questions ran through my aching head and it seemed farcical, I had a headache because I couldn't get sex. Maybe the jokes about Sister Maria doing press ups in the cucumber patch weren't so outlandish.

Simon had been to the bathroom and gone through into the sitting room, he was watching the telly, a corny old film was on. I felt I had to make my peace with him.

I pulled on a nightie, one that Stella had given me, so it was rather nice and showed a bit of cleavage, which seemed to have grown a little recently.

Simon was sitting on a settee and I sat down beside him. "Can we talk?" I asked him.

"If you want," he said without taking his eyes off the screen.

"I'm sorry that I tried to talk you into doing something you're not ready to do. I do respect you and love you and I am sorry."

"Okay, thank you. Apology accepted. Please don't do it again."

I wanted to slap my head in frustration, nearly as much as I wanted to slap him. "Simon, I don't know if you just don't fancy me or what, but I was desperate for you and you ignored me. I don't know where I stand any more or what that says about me as a woman?"

He kept looking at the television and spoke to me without once looking at me. "You know I love you and fancy you like mad, you are all the woman I'll ever need. But I made a promise and will not break it."

I was tempted to drop the magic three letter word that would drive him crazy, but I resisted the urge just as he had that to ravish me while I was throwing myself at him. He's never going to get a stronger come on.

"I'm tired," 'of waiting for you Simon,' "I'm off to bed, lover."

"Okay," he said without taking the hint, "Night," he pecked me on the cheek like we'd been married two hundred years and I stomped off to bed and switched off the lights in the bedroom after shutting the connecting door. I was mad and was glad that exhaustion set in and I went off to sleep quite quickly. I did feel him getting into bed later and snuggled up to him, but that was all.

I awoke in the wee sma' hours, I had recalled Dr Thomas phoning me and asking me could we postpone the meeting until tomorrow morning at eleven. That was okay, but I found myself thinking about what we'd say. I'd done some research on battle fatigue and PTSD. It seems that the US and the UK have a different approach.

In the States they tend to do it as soon as they can, in the UK we let a couple of months go by, allowing the soldiers to talk to their family and friends before medicalising them. Sometimes they don't need psychotherapy and certainly not as much as the US soldiers get.

It was an interesting paper and perhaps said something about our cultural heritage as much as anything. Brits don't usually make a fuss about things, Americans do much more often. Having relaxed and learned that Stella was essentially okay, I suspect I felt much better and might not actually need therapy tomorrow, which I shall say at the outset and see what the experts recommend.

I also made a mental note to speak to my GP as the hormone patches were giving me a slight rash, I wondered if there was an alternative brand or method.

After my tossing and turning, I awoke feeling exhausted and slept on. I'd asked for an alarm call and that happened at nine. They brought me up some cereal and tea and I shot in the shower, doing my hair and makeup very quickly. I pulled on some jeans to eat my breakfast and then had to take them off. I couldn't believe it but the jeans seemed too hard in the crotch for me. Instead I threw on a skirt suit, which meant I couldn't wear my flat shoes.

Somehow, I managed to find a parking spot near the clinic and arrived with two minutes to spare. I waited for a few more minutes and was told to go to her room, I knocked and was bid enter.

"Ah Cathy, how good to see you, gosh you look well for someone who's recently undergone such an ordeal."

"Thank you." I blushed.

"This is Dr Bob Redhead, the psychologist I wanted you to meet. I'm hoping he can teach us both a few things."

I shook hands with her colleague, he was a man of about thirty five and quite good looking, and although he wore glasses, they seemed to suit him. He was semi-casually dressed in an open necked shirt, cord jacket and checked trousers. I wasn't sure about his taste in trousers, but then I wasn't going out with him, if I was, the trousers would have to go!

Dr Thomas poured us each a cup of coffee and the caffeine helped to wake me up. I explained that I felt a bit better and wasn't sure if I needed help.

Dr Redhead agreed with me, explaining that I probably didn't at the moment, but if the stress wasn't sublimated, then I would probably need to see someone eventually. It made sense to me and seemed to go with the military model I'd been reading about.

Dr Thomas wanted to know all about my 'adventure' but Redhead stopped me, suggesting that instead of reframing, it would stir things up when they didn't need to be, which could alter my mood and current coping mechanism. Dr Thomas seemd to understand even if I didn't.

I asked them about my frustration and was that possible. They both smiled a bit. Dr Thomas then told Redhead about my actual status.

"The reason Cathy is unsure of what's normal is that she had a vaginoplasty recently and wondered if it's reasonable to desire to use it."

"Vaginoplasty?" repeated Dr Redhead.

"And clitoroplasty, the works," I offered.

"You're transsexual?" he asked in astonishment.

"I was, I'm female now or will be when I qualify for legal recognition."

"Goodness, I'd never have guessed, I assumed you were a regular woman, I mean a biological female."

"Cathy is something of a star client," said Dr Thomas bursting with pride, "Once we got her to believe in herself, she hasn't looked back. How is Simon, apart from frustrating you?"

"He's fine, thankyou."

"You're still going to marry him?"

"Yes but if the Gender Recognition bit is going to take another year or more I might go for my PhD first, as I originally planned."

"PhD, in what?"

"I'm a biologist."

"Ah, not involved with the mammal survey stuff, I saw at my ban..." he paused and looked at me again, "That was you on the posters wasn't it, the dormouse lady?"

I blushed and hoped he wasn't going to mention the Youtube clip. He didn't, Dr Thomas did.

"Oh Cathy is quite a celebrity, she's appeared on TV with her dormouse juggling."

I had never wanted to kill Dr Thomas before, but now it was tempting.

"Not the Youtube clip?" said Dr Redhead.

"The very same," confirmed Dr Thomas.

"That is so funny," he said and she agreed, I just blushed and wanted to kill them both.