Alex and Tracy

Alex and Tracy - a couple that joined a gym to get healthy. Classes. Nutritional supplements. But they didn't realize - always think before you speak and read before you sign. Based on characters created by Snow Girl.

-----

She watches him as he leaves the bathroom, one towel under his armpits and the other wrapped around his hair. His wavy honey blonde hair. Her eyes take a long walk over his body, from the top of his head down to his feet which, looking at them, are no more than an eight now. A woman's eight. She looks up at his legs. He's been shaving them for at least a week now. She's pretty sure that he thinks she doesn't notice. She does. And she likes it.

He drops the towel and she smiles as she takes him in. The roundness of his hips. His hips. She laughs to herself and thinks how the workouts with Amy are paying off. His flat stomach, with the belly button she wants him to pierce, if anyone still does that. The way his hips lead into those tight thighs, down to his well turned calves. Then she looks up at his breasts, the ones he'll still sometimes call pecs. Yeah, that's it, she thinks, your pecs. Your B, maybe C cup pecs.

He walks over and looks at the full length mirror on her closet, although really it's his. Or it will be soon enough, her Alex. Her sexy Alex. Her feminine, sexy Alex.

Now, he's standing there, checking himself out. The way she used to, the way she definitely does not miss. He has one arm cupped under his breasts, and is clearly studying his butt. And finding it lacking. “I don't know,” he says, furrowing his brow and looking adorable. “I just don't know.”

“What?” Tracy asks. She's sitting up in bed. She likes it now, not feeling the weight on her chest. She's bare chested, wearing only a pair of shorts.

“I keep working out and my butt... Does it look bigger to you?”

It's not bigger. It's a perfect peach shape, sticking out. Lately, when he walks, it has the cutest shake. She's caught the guys at the gym, checking him out as he walks to class with Sarah and Jennifer, oblivious. She wants to tell them to back off, but then she remembers that he's coming home with her.

She walks over and stands behind him. “Your butt looks amazing,” and she almost calls him baby. But she stops. Soon enough, she thinks. She puts her arms around him, and is struck by how muscular her arms look, especially next to his. What's the weather supposed to be today? Warm enough for ‘sun's out, guns out?’ She'll check her phone. In a little bit. First, she takes the towel off his head, letting his blonde hair fall to his shoulders. She lifts it off his neck and begins kissing his neck, the way she used to like. He moans with pleasure and she moves to nibbling his earlobe.

“Stop,” he whispers. “Come on... We have things to do…”

“They can wait,” she laughs.

“I promise. If you wait,” and he smiles devilishly, “I'll make it worth your while.” When did he become such a flirt, a tease? Not that she's complaining.

----
This is fun, he thinks. A smile, a shake and I get what I want. She goes into the bathroom to pee and he reaches into his drawer and pulls out a pair of underwear. They don't fit, too tight in the butt and loose in the waist. And baggy in the crotch. Then, he goes into his closet and takes out a pair of jeans. He can't get them on at all and he starts to cry, something he finds happening surprisingly easily lately. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees her drying her hands. “I hate this!” he sobs. “I hate this!”

Tracy looks concerned, “What's the matter?”

He sobs again. “These pants. I work out and work out and look,” and he gestures to his behind, “I can't even get these stupid jeans over my butt. It's not fair,” and he tears up again.

She smiles and goes to her closet. She pulls out a pair of jeans, light blue ones that end mid-calf. “Try these.”

“Are you sure,” he asks tentatively. “I mean these are yours.”

Tracy smiles. “My closet is your closet.”

He takes off his jeans and puts them on the the bed. He tentatively picks up hers. “Are you sure this is OK?” He’s been wearing her workout clothes, at her insistence, but this is...different. This isn’t the gym, it’s outside in public, where no one knows them.

She smiles, “If it bothered me, I wouldn’t have offered, would I?” He looks at her face, at her eyes. Her eyes never lied, even when she was. She doesn’t seem upset and he pulls them on. He walks over to the mirror, and checks out his reflection, paying attention once again to his butt. They fit like a second skin, except that you can visibly see his underwear, the way that they bunch up.

He sees it and so does Tracy, who walks to her dresser. He watches her as she goes into her underwear drawer and pulls out a pair of panties, pink briefs. The ones that rode high on her thighs and barely covered her butt. She twirls them on her finger. “Try these.”

“But, those are...yours.”

“They’re just underwear,” she says, in the sort of tone you reserve for a child. She “Besides, you can’t walk around like that.”

He takes off his, then takes a deep breath and puts on hers. They slide easily over his butt and look better, much better and it’s obvious from Tracy’s smile, well her leer, that she feels the same way. OK, he thinks, I can work with this.

He stands there, topless, in nothing but panties, and walks over to his closet. He watches her watch him walk. He needs a top, he thinks. No, a shirt. He needs a shirt. Although, out of the corner of his eye, he sees a linen top in her closet and thinks of the one that Jennifer bought the other day when they went for lunch. When they stopped at that cute little boutique. He remembered how she left it untucked, tying a little knot at the bottom. He looks at his stomach, how flat it is after all his work, and wonders if it would look good on him. Maybe another day, he sighs.

He pulls out a button down shirt and tries it on. It hangs down past his thighs. Has he lost that much weight? He hangs it back up and takes out a t shirt. He hates it. It stretches across his chest and then hangs down, making him look fat. He hasn’t worked out as long as he has to look fat. He’s miserable and feels like crying when he turns to look at Tracy’s closet.

He sees a blue t shirt hanging. It’s just a t shirt, he thinks. The only difference between his and this is size. Maybe when they’re out, he’ll pick up some smaller ones. He takes it off the hanger and looks over at Tracy, still watching him. “Is this OK? I mean, this one looks awful.” She’s still smiling, still looking up and down, her eyes lingering on his chest, which makes him a little uncomfortable. And excited. “I just thought that this was sm…”

She holds up her hand, “I already said, my closet is your closet…whatever you want.”

He sees her blue strapless sundress, the one with the vertical, alternating blue and white stripes. The one she wore on the third date, the first time they slept together. And he wonders, then shakes his head.

He lays down on the bed to pull on his jeans and she gets up and goes to his dresser. He looks at her ass, specifically checking out her quads. The way that the muscles tense as she moves. Ok, Alex, look away or you will get nothing done today. I mean, you'll get something done but not what you need. Ok, what you need but not everything you need. He closes his eyes and pulls up the jeans, feeling them go over his hips. He stands up and walks over to the mirror, turning and checking himself out.

----
Oh yeah, Tracy thinks. He looks perfect. The t shirt clingy, showing off his chest, the jeans hugging his every curve and leaving nothing to the imagination. She's glad she went and bought them the other day, and then put them in her closet. Size 4. He's a 4 and, if she has her way - and she will - he'll stay a 4. Some of the guys at the gym like a girl with big tits and junk in the trunk. Not her. She likes them like this. Curves but not the kind that'll turn to fat one day.

She takes out a pair of his boxer briefs, and puts them on. She likes the way they hug her thighs. The cotton’s rougher than her old underwear which, at first, she thought she'd hate but she's come to like. She's not as soft as she once was, so why should her underwear be? She makes a note to get some new ones. She wants to get in Alex's panties but not his underwear. She smiles, thinking how she can just stop at Walmart or the drugstore to get new ones. Just go to the rack and pick up a package. No more thinking about it. That's Alex's job now and he better take it seriously. He looks over at her and she smiles.

She looks at his closet - it’s his now; he’s acknowledged as much by taking the jeans and t shirt - staring at the tops. He would look amazing in her off the shoulder peasant top. Or the baby blue tank, that would show off his tits. But, she knows that she can’t push. Not yet. Soon though.

She goes into his drawer and pulls out a black t shirt. She pulls it on, feeling it taut against her biceps. Maybe it fit him this way once upon a time, but not in a long time, and besides her arms are bigger than his ever were. She does a discreet flex. She walks over to the floor by her new closet and picks up his jeans. She pulls them up. Perfect fit. She puts on a pair of black casual oxfords and she's done. She likes being done.

---
His new jeans have a higher rise. He remembers the ones Tracy used to wear when they were first dating, the ones that came just above her hips and would show her thong when she bent over. He wonders how he'd look in those, whether he could wear them and show off his abs. Jen's always teasing him in the sauna, how every guy is checking him out. Especially those two guys who bought them wine the other day and tried to pick them up, until Jen flashed her ring. They walked away and Jen held up her glass. ‘Girl gets thirsty,’ she said, watching them walk away.

He looks at himself in the mirror and sighs. The t shirt draws attention to his chest which he's noticed happening a lot lately. He understands now how annoyed Tracy used to get. She liked being checked out but she used to say that at some point you just want to get out of the store.

He plays with his hair, deciding whether there's a way to wear it in a ponytail without it looking weird. He's playing with it and, from the corner of his eye, sees Tracy getting bored. Tough, he thinks. I did it for years. He smiles at her. Tracy gets up and says she's going to start the car and not to take so long.

He decides to wear it down, he's been told it looks better. He takes the round brush and begins brushing, curling his hair around it at the end of each stroke. He remembers Tracy doing this, to give her a hair a little wave. In five minutes, he's done. His hair falls in waves to his shoulders. He looks at her makeup and goes back and forth.

---
Five minutes later, he walks out of the house. Tracy smiles. He's wearing the jeans, the t shirt and a pair of white canvas sneakers. With his hair down, he looks young, early 20s.

He opens the door and sits butt first, then flips his legs in. She wonders if he knows that he's doing that. “Nice bag.” He's carrying her little black quilted bag, the cross body one she got when they went on vacation to Mexico. An image of them in bathing suits enters her mind.

He looks nervous, his eyes wide. Is he wearing eyeliner? And lip gloss? “What? Do you think people will say something?” She thinks he thinks he's going to get caught, that someone will notice.

“Not at all.” And let them try and fuck with you. I'll fuck anyone up who tries. She likes thinking about that. And knowing that she could. “It's a cute bag. What made you decide on it?”

He laughs nervously. “Well, first, there is absolutely no place to carry a wallet in these jeans.” She likes the way he says absolutely. And she wonders what else he has in there. “And then,” and he starts talking about which bag, gesturing as she pulls out. She looks at his hands. She's pretty sure he's had a manicure. He's not wearing polish but the nails are too perfect. She wonders if she can convince him to wear polish. Red. A rich wine red.

Fifteen minutes later and they're at the mall. Sorry, the outdoor shopping experience. With its overpriced restaurants and shops, and the big movie theater - the one with reclining chairs, waiter service and alcohol - at the end. Malls, the old kind, are dying, Dave said. Dave's her basketball buddy, the one in real estate. The one who's always checking out Alex's ass at the gym and telling her, ‘you better put a ring on that or someone's going to come in.’ On second thought, Dave annoys the shit out of her. But he's sent clients her way, so she deals with him. Besides, Dave is no competition. He's losing his hair and she can bench twenty pounds more and six more reps besides.

She checks out her reflection in the mirror, her new buzz cut, running her hand through it. Does she look like a really Butch lesbian or a guy with a feminine face? She wonders how she'd look with a beard.
---
He walks over to the store directory. He needs new underwear. He likes the way these feel, but he can't keep wearing hers. It feels weird. There's a Victoria's Secret here somewhere. “Hey, Tracy,” he says, watching her look at herself. Had she always been this vain?

She keeps looking at herself. “Yeah?”.

“I need to pick up some...things. Do you want to come with me?”

“I’m gonna go watch the game at Tequila Jack.” Of course you are, he thinks. Which is fine. He remembers sitting on windowsills, waiting for her to be done. At the beginning, it's fun. She'd try on sexy outfits and ask his opinion. Then, after a while, you're standing outside Ulta with your phone, waiting for her to buy makeup and wondering when you can get lunch. This way is better. He can shop without her watching, watching him and the clock at the same time. He tells her that he'll call when he's done.

He walks along and passes a women's clothing store, a local place trying to fight the tide of chain stores, White House/Black Market across the plaza, for one. There's a dress in the window, a yellow floral print with pale blue flowers. A couple of inches above the knee. He walks in, the bell over the door tinkling. Which he likes better than the electronic beep he hears elsewhere. A woman, in her forties, the manager or owner, comes over, “Hi, how can I help you?”

He takes a breath. He looks at the dress and wonders. Jennifer and Sarah have been on him to show off his hard work. And he tried on one of Tracy's skirts the other day, when she was at basketball.

But this is different. This would be his dress. His. Not hers. The woman in the store says gently, “Are you ok?”

He looks at her. “The dress. In the window. The yellow one.”

She looks at him, looking him up and down. “Would you like to try it on?”

His eyes flick, from the window to a rack to the dressing room. The old school kind, three cubbies next to each other. He remembers his mother taking him for school clothes, handing him the same pair of pants in different colors. Him complaining about how stupid it was, that they were the exact same pair of pants and his mom telling him about how they were cut different. And now he's here. “I don't know.” He's concerned about Tracy. Will this be too much? It's one thing to play games at home. How will she respond to him showing up with this? She scares him a little lately. She's become aggressive, sometimes too much so. She doesn't know it but he watched her play basketball, from a distance, and she's been very pushy with the other guys lately.

The saleswoman laughs, incredulously. “That dress is perfect for you, with your coloring.” She's not wrong, but still.

“It's not that. It's my... girlfriend. I don't know how she'll react.”

The woman laughs loudly, and he's grateful no one else is there. “What's your name, honey?”

He feels his face flush. “Alex.”

She doesn't say anything. She imagines she's not homophobic, this is a fairly liberal area. Even if she is, a sale’s a sale. Besides, they're not a gay couple. “Alex, if she doesn't try and tear it off you, check her pulse,” she laughs.

He looks over at the dressing room, ready to try. And then he chickens out. “I'll, uh, come back. Later. With her,” and he leaves, all but rushing out.

He walks through the plaza. He feels the light breeze, making his hair tickle his neck and suddenly he's very aware. He sees his reflection in the window. He's a man, in women's jeans. And a women's t shirt. Wearing makeup. And carrying a purse. He's made a mistake, a big one. He's going to get beaten up, Tracy is going to lose her shit when she sees him. He feels short of breath and sits outside the overpriced candy store, its bright lights give him a headache. He slumps on the bench and starts to cry, this time for real. He's made a mistake, a huge one. He should never have joined that gym. He should have read the form.

A girl comes out of the store, with a cup of water. “Miss? Miss?” It takes him a second to realize that she means him. “Are you OK?”

Miss. He wipes away his tears. “It's... It's hard to explain.” He takes a sip. “Sorry. It can't be good for business, me out here crying.”

The girl snorts. “You could be out here bleeding and the little brats would walk over you.”

Alex smiled. “Thank you for the water.”

“What's the matter?” The girl looks concerned. Or maybe she just wants the break from peddling giant Reeses to screaming kids.

Alex smiles. “It's ridiculous, really. A fight with my girlfriend.”

“Oh God, what did she do?”

“That's the ridiculous part. We haven't even had the fight yet.”

The girl laughs. “I hear you. They’re all the same.”

Alex smiles. He looks at her. Long dark hair, dark eyes. 19, if that. Long legs and a B cup. He looks at her name tag. “Thank you, Lisbeth.”
---
Tracy is sitting at the bar, one eye on a Giants-Padres game. She's not really paying attention, since she has no rooting interest in either team. A waitress comes over and smiles. “Another beer?”

Tracy smiles and checks her out. Nineteen, maybe twenty. Good body, and she obviously knows it, the way Tracy did. She wonders if she ever gets tired of it, of everyone treating her like a doll. Given the way that she's hauling trays of drinks, probably not. She pictures heading to her apartment after her shift and asking her boyfriend for a massage, a back rub. And then getting pissed when he thinks it's foreplay.

The waitress brings over her beer. She's hungry and looks at the menu. Can she order an appetizer while she waits for Alex? Will he get annoyed at her, that she couldn't wait? She laughs to herself, thinking how little he eats nowadays, mostly salmon, chicken and salad, maybe a little pasta for energy after class. She pictures him picking at nachos and then worrying that he'll never take it off. Good. She likes him nervous like that. By the summer, he'll be the hottest girl on the beach. She pictures him in her blue and white bikini, although he may not completely fill out the cups. Which doesn't really bother her. She wonders why she feels competitive with him, since she's obviously won. Twice. She calls over the waitress and orders an order of mini tacos. That'll tide her over.

She picks at the tacos, the one remaining habit she has. Even when she's with the guys, she has to remind herself to eat more forcefully, faster. She wonders if Alex has the same problem with his friends from class. Probably not. He always tended to follow the lead of whomever he was with. She'd watch him watch her eat, especially when he thought she wasn't watching. At first, she found it creepy and then she realized it's because his parents used to watch him. She wonders what they'd make of him now and she smiles to herself. She probably looks like a lunatic.

After ten minutes, her phone vibrates on the table. A text from Alex. ‘Look up,’ and a smile emoji. She sees a blonde in a tight t shirt and jeans, her hips swaying as every guy in the place looks at her, her legs and her tits. She does a double take when she realizes who it is.

Alex leans over and gives her a kiss on the lips. She tastes his lip gloss. “Hey, sweetie.” He puts his bags down. A bag from Ulta. She peeks in and sees a palette of eyeshadow, maybe blush. And two pink Victoria's Secret bags. Everything covered in tissue paper. Dammit. A couple at the next table watches him, the wife glaring at her husband. “I hope you weren't too bored.”

Tracy grins. “Not at all. You look... Amazing.” He looks somehow different than before. She thinks she sees the outline of a bra.

He blushes and she wants to take him outside and fuck him against the wall, raw and nasty. He sits down. “Thank you,” he laughs, more like giggles. She hopes he's not one of those giggly girls. Her friend Alicia was a giggler, especially around guys, and it got annoying.

She watches him, the way he's using his hands and flipping his hair. How cute...and girly he is. She swears she feels a twitch in her groin, a swelling. She likes this. She wants him in dresses and skirts. She remembers her first real boyfriend, Paul, how he always liked when she'd wear a short skirt. How he was always sticking his hands up it. That time at the McMillans, when her parents were in the other room. She conveniently forgets how it annoyed her, instead picturing Alex in the hallway of a dark club, hands up his little black dress, his hair up so he looks more glamorous. The specificity of the thought scares her. And excites her.

He notices and smiles, and his big blue eyes widen. He's definitely wearing eyeliner and it looks good. “You're really sure I look ok? No one notices, right?”

They notice your hips. They notice your legs. They notice the way your tits are peeking out. “Not at all.” Then she whispers, “Are you wearing a bra?”

He smiles, “Wouldn't you like to know?” Was she this flirtatious? She can't remember anymore. She reaches under the table and starts to massage his thigh. “Ok, stop,” the smile never leaving his face.

“No.” She keeps doing it.

He stops smiling. “I asked you to stop.”

“And I said no.”

He leans forward and hisses, “Do you want the entire restaurant to see me with an erection?” Her face drops. “Then stop it.”

She thinks back to this morning. She's not sure what's in the supplements but, when she looks at his groin, she sees an enlarged clit at best. When they've had sex, she's been getting off from her imagination and his tongue, not from anything he's doing with whatever that is between his legs. But she's not going to fight him. She'll play nice and get what she wants later. She smiles and looks down. “I'm sorry, baby.” He smiles at baby. “You just look so damned sexy.” Alex is now smiling. “So, what did you buy?”

---
Alex knows she's full of shit. He knows she doesn't care and is just trying to get back in his good graces for later. Which is fine by him. God knows he's done it enough. It's only fair that there's payback. But he'll play along. “Oh, some makeup…”

“Makeup?”

He looks at her. “Yes, makeup. Looking like this, I can't really walk around without it, can I?” She looks confused. “And I mean I could use yours, but that's not sanitary in the long run.”

Tracy smiles, “You'll,” and he can tell she's about to say something like ‘eat me out’ but is afraid someone will hear, so she says, “have sex with me, but not share an eyeliner?”

He smiles, “If you stick that,” and grabs her groin, which makes her eyes light up, “in my eye, we're in trouble.” He reaches back down again and looks at her, raising an eyebrow.

Tracy smiles, “Am I crazy…”

He’s a little confused. A lot more turned on but confused. He wants to check himself out but can't. One of the downsides, he sighs to himself. Until all of this, he never noticed how much guys had their hands down there. He just smiles and decides to play, by torturing her. “Let me tell you what I bought. So, I bought some eyeshadow and blush and lip gloss. Pink.”

“Not red?” She looks disappointed.

He thinks about it. Red’s not bad for once in a while, but when he and Nicole were out last week, she told him pink was definitely better with his coloring. And it is. “No, pink. I'm wearing it now. Does it look bad.”

“No but…”

“I mean, if you don't want to kiss me because I'm wearing pink lip gloss, I'm sure someone would…”

Tracy looks at him. “That's not funny,” she growls, grabbing his hand.

He pulls back, like he's been electrocuted. “I was kidding.” He says each word separately and slowly. Like he's talking to a child.

“Yeah, well, I don't like it. I don't want you kissing anyone else.”

He looks at her, an image of Chuck flashing through his mind. He tries not to let it show. “And I'm not. Are you?” He's seen the women at the gym checking her out. And he doesn't like it.

“No,” she mumbles. “I'm sorry.” He figures she's half sincere, but he's not in the mood for a fight. Then Tracy says, “What else did you buy?” She picks up the bag from Victoria's Secret. “What's in here?” And she twirls the bag on her finger.

Alex pauses. He's upset by her attitude, her possessiveness. But he doesn't want to ruin the afternoon. But he's pissed at her. Let her suffer a little, he thinks. “Sports bras.” Which is true. If incomplete. He's also bought some everyday ones. And some not so everyday ones.

Tracy looks disappointed, like he would have been. He's trying to remember the old Tracy and the image is all jumbled. “That's it?”

Alex smiles. “Sorry. What did you think?” He knows what she's thinking.

“I just... I was thinking of you. In a lacy red bra and panties…”

He smiles. “Tell me more.”

“And my Louboutins. The ones you like so much.” He knows which ones she's talking about. Black 3” heel. Open toe. He tried them on the other day.

“And?” He can see the beads of sweat on her forehead.

“You're on your back, your legs high in the air. You can do that, can't you?”

He smiles. “You've seen me kick my leg over my head in class. You'd be surprised what I can do with these legs.”

Just then, the waitress comes over. “Hi, welcome to Tequila Jack, miss.” Miss. Good. “Can I get you anything?”

Alex looks at the menu. Everything fried and covered with cheese. Yuck. “Tequila lime grilled chicken with salad, no fries. Dressing on the side please.”

He watches as Tracy looks the waitress up and down. She's not a natural redhead, it's pretty obvious. “Chicken enchiladas please.” He'd be throwing up if he ate that. “So where were we?”

He keeps smiling. “Well, you had me on my back…” He has a strange sensation in his panties. Not bad. Just different. Then he looks in her eyes and feels uncomfortable. She looks angry, even as she grins.

“That's right. You're on your back. Your legs in the air. I rip the panties off you…”

Alex pouts, “And I just bought those…”

She looks at the bag and then him, “Oh, really?”

He smiles, looking down then up. It works. “If you're a good...boy,” and Tracy smiles, “maybe you'll find out.”

“Oh, I'll find out.”

He smiles, “Says who?”

“Says me.” She's being nicer now. And he wants her. Wants her to fuck him. Not to make love or even have sex. But to fuck him.

“We'll see about that.” His voice sounds like what was that word his English teacher used to use? Coquettish? He didn't mean to, but it doesn't bother him like it should. Actually, it's kind of fun.
-----
You cock tease, she thinks. You little cock tease. She watches him take a chip from the basket and put it in his mouth, paying close attention to his fingers as he puts them to his mouth. The perfectly manicured nails lingering near his pink lips.

“So, if it's ok, I'm going to take a dance class Amy's teaching tomorrow.” His voice snaps her mind back.

“Uh, sure. I'm playing basketball anyway. Then, going for beers.” She doesn't ask if it's ok.

“Oh, that's right,” she smiles. “I totally forgot.” Was that a lilt in his voice? Whatever it is, she likes it. “I think then I'll grab lunch with Jen and Sarah after.”

“Ok.” She takes a handful of chips. Alex is still nibbling the second one he took. Good. She doesn't want him to eat too many.

Alex takes her hand and looks like he wants to say something. He opens his mouth then pauses. “What's wrong, baby?” His eyes dart from side to side. “Seriously, Alex, what's wrong?”

“Nothing.” The look on his face says it's something. “It's nothing.”

“Did something happen while you were shopping?” He looks away. She finds herself getting angry. “What happened? Did someone say something, do something? Tell me!” She's ready to hurt someone.

“Ow,” Alex hisses, pulling his hand away. “You're hurting me.”

Chastened, “I'm sorry, baby. I didn't mean to. But what happened?”

He looks at her. “Nothing happened. I mean, not with anyone…” He looks down at his hands. “It's just…”

“Just what?”

“It's... everything”. She looks at him, unsure of what he means. “I'm scared”. She smiles. He's scared and she wants to comfort him. She doesn't. “I'm glad you think this is funny”.

“I don't think it's funny”. She doesn't know what it is, so how can she? “But you have to tell me what it is”.

He lowers his voice. “So, after I left you, I was walking around and I went past this store and I saw this cute dress in the window.” She wills herself not to smile. “And I went in.” He takes a breath, clearly gathering his thoughts.

“And?” She dips a chip in salsa, and takes a bite.

“And I left.”

“Ok.” His eyes narrow, which highlights the eyeliner, which she's sure isn't his intent but still makes him that much girlier. “So what's wrong?”

“I shouldn't have been in there in the first place,” he tries unsuccessfully to keep his voice down.

“Why?” She's testing him.

“Because you know why”. She looks at him and wonders what he sees. He's fussing with his napkin, folding and unfolding it repeatedly. Which only heightens his femininity. And her libido.

“I don't care. And Sarah and Jen don't care.” She doesn't like Jen and never has. She's high maintenance and judgmental. From the first day at the gym, she's felt like she's watching her, wondering why she's lifting instead of doing aerobics. She knows that Jen is one of those girls who tends to the heavy. That if she wasn't constantly working out, she'd balloon up. But she's Alex's friend and he likes her, they talk constantly. And so she deals.

“But, I care.” And she sees tears in his eyes.

She moves over to hug him. “Alex, baby, I don't care what you wear. I love you. Clothes are just a wrapper.” And she wants to unwrap him right here. “I'm serious. I don't care.”

---
He pulls back and looks at her. He's trying to determine whether she's serious. When he looks in her eyes, he sees Tracy, the one he used to know. He takes another deep breath, conflicted. The woman he loves is ok with it. His friends have made it clear what they think. He works from home. “You're not angry with me?”

She looks at him. “There's nothing to be angry about. Are you angry that I'm dressed like this?”

He looks at her. At the way the shirt stretches across her pecs. And they are definitely pecs. And at her jaw line. And he feels himself getting flush. He smiles. “No.”

“Then why should I be angry at you?” She smiles. “How about you show it to me after lunch?”

“I'm still afraid someone will say something.”

She keeps smiling but he sees aggression. “Let them try.” She means well but it scares him. He wonders what happened to his Tracy, his sweet Tracy. If she was ever really here.

The waitress comes with their lunch and smiles at Tracy, touching her hand as she serves his meal. She looks at Alex and smiles, but it's the fake smile of someone trying to mark her territory. She can try, thinks Alex. “Thank you,” he says, smiling tightly. “This looks very good. Thank you.” Tracy's mine, thank you.

He watches amused as Tracy cuts her enchiladas. She's trying not to cut small pieces but to attack them. And she's failing. The gestures are the same as they ever were.

Throughout lunch, Tracy peppers him with questions about the dress, what it looks like. I told you, he thinks to himself, it's a yellow print with blue flowers. Pale yellow with periwinkle flowers. Cotton. And it will end a couple of inches above my knee. And has a couple of buttons near the neckline. So that I can show something. But not too much. He smiles to himself.

Or maybe not to himself. “What's so funny?” Tracy asks.

“Just thinking of something silly that I saw before.” On the spot, “I was walking past that candy store and I saw a little boy, maybe 2, trying to pick up one of those huge candy bars, the 10 pound ones, and almost dropping it and his father getting positively apoplectic…” It's a lie but it works, because he can see her eyes go vacant as she stops listening.

----

They finish lunch. They're out of the restaurant and she takes his hand. “So, where is it”? Alex points, towards the parking lot, and they start walking. She thinks, he's nervous, not talking, like he's afraid. She looks at him. He's a girl now. But she wonders what he sees when he looks in the mirror.

She knows what she sees in the mirror. And she likes it, in a way that surprised her at first. And scared her. When she went to the barber - not the salon, not a unisex haircutter, the barber - and watched as her hair fell to the floor, she shuddered. Like saying goodbye to an old friend you'd outgrown. “It's ok, baby. It's all ok”. She knows she should tell him that they don't have to go, that it can wait. But she thinks that he needs this, that he needs to know it's ok that he can wear whatever he wants whenever he wants. She thinks about the blue slip dress in her, sorry his, closet and how sexy he'd look in it, with his 3” sandals. The way his ass would shake even more. And without thinking, she stops him and kisses him deeply.

Or. “What the hell are you doing?” Great. He's pissed. People look for a second and then move on. Couple fights at mall. (Fuck you Dave, it's a strip mall.) Let's move on.

“I was just kissing you.”

“Or shoving your tongue down my throat.” He's red faced and not in a good way. “You could at least ask. Or warn me.”

“Sorry, I lost my head,” she smiles.

“Yeah, well, it wasn't nice.”

She grins and then bows. “May I kiss you now,” and she almost adds ‘miss,’ but doesn't know how that will go over.

Alex laughs and she knows she's back in his good graces. “Oh fine, but not so rough this time.” He pauses and grins. “That's for later.” The tease.

---

In the end, he decides not to look at the dress. “I changed my mind.”

“Why?” Tracy looks upset.

“I changed my mind. That's it. Another time.” He looks at her, at her eyes. They're blank. Maybe he'll bring Nicole over tomorrow after class, see what she thinks.

“Can I at least see it?” Tracy pleads. And he wavers. She's asking nicely. But why? He's not trying it on, not now, not with her. He’s afraid and the way she keeps moving her hands is scaring him.

“I think I'd like to go home. Please”. He unwittingly has a tight grip on the strap of his purse, the other hand gripping his bags.

He sees her deflate. “I really wanted to see it.”

He thinks fast and smiles. “You'd rather see me in a dress than what's under here? Ok…” Coquettish. He can work with coquettish.

Twenty minutes later, the bags are dropped at the front door, as Tracy grabs him and pins him up against the wall, forcing her tongue down his throat. His pulse starts racing and he pushes his tongue back into her mouth, although hers is definitely in control as they intertwine. This isn’t the mall, he thinks for a second before he stops thinking at all. He’s kissing her and grabbing her ass, as he swears he feels something pressing up against his groin.

He pulls away and she pulls him back, “Don't you like it?”

He smiles, “Of course, but wouldn't you rather…” And he starts walking to the bedroom, making sure to make his hips sway. He's been practicing. They get to the bedroom and he says, “Wanna see what I learned in dance class?” He pushes her onto the bed. Or she lets him push her. He feels her loosen her stance when he puts his hand onto her chest. “So we've been working on our hips,” He begins dancing, moving his hips from side to side. “What do you think? Am I doing OK?” Tracy lets out a little groan and he continues, slowly sliding the jeans down his legs. His eyes are on her crotch and he blinks, unsure. He sees her eyes widen. “Oh, that's right. I bought some new panties today.” Lacy. Pink. He didn't mean to. He was just going to buy cotton ones. Simple. Plain. But then he thought how no one would see these. And he took the plunge.

“But Amy,” his trainer, “has been working with me on upper body also,” and he starts slowly removing his shirt, revealing the matching bra. He walks over to Tracy and puts his tits in her face. They are. Tits, not pecs. Again, if he were thinking about that, he might be upset. But he isn’t thinking. Not now. Tracy runs her fingers up his back, he licks his lips. Then she unclasps the bra - good to see she's retained that - and begins licking his nipples, her tongue circling, then licking and sucking each nipple in turn. It’s like an electric current, running through his body, bringing of waves of pleasure like he’s never felt. He wants her to make love to him. No, to fuck him. To be on his back while she takes him. She begins to pull him towards her and he remembers. He’s in charge. She may be licking his nipples, driving him absolutely crazy. But he’s in charge. So he flirts. “I'm not done.”

Tracy groans loudly. “I get it. I get it. You don't need to show me anything else…”

He pouts, “We've really been working on legs.” Tracy stares and he leans over. He opens her mouth with his tongue and briefly kisses her, then gives her a quick bite on the lip. She moans and he continues, “Please?” Tracy closes her eyes and then opens them. He sees the desperation.

He begins walking towards her closet. “You said your closet is my closet, right?” He doesn't wait for an answer. He turns around and bends over, ostentatiously looking around. He feels her eyes burning a hole in his ass. He makes a big display of, “Oh! Here they are,” as he picks up her black 3” Louboutins, the open toed ones. He slides them on and slowly walks over to her. He's practiced when she's not here. His heels are now three inches higher than his toes and he feels himself falling forward. He leans back slightly, so that his tits are sticking out. He walks slowly over to her, taking shorter steps and putting one foot in front of the other. He stares directly into her eyes and sees them flick from side to side, watching his hips sway and his tits bounce. For a fleeting second, he thinks of the way Sarah walks, the way Tracy used to walk and he laughs a little. “So, we've really been working the most on legs,” and he high kicks his leg onto her shoulder. Then he falls forward onto her, ending up with his crotch in her face. She begins rubbing her face on it and he feels a warmth spreading. And then she begins licking him with her tongue. Even through the panties, he feels a wave of pleasure like he’s never felt and he starts to moan. He pushes her head further into his crotch. He wants her. Now. He’s never wanted anything as much as he wants her inside him. He’s not even thinking about anything other than that. Including not thinking about what's missing.

----

Look at him, Tracy thinks as she watches Alex comes over to her, strutting in his heels. He’s looking at her with pure lust. Her sexy Alex. Her eyes trace the lace pattern going over his hips, and his nipples, which are proudly at attention.

She watches his little show and feels a swelling in her groin, a tension. She grips the front of the mattress so that she doesn’t get up and grab him. Let him strut his stuff. Her sexy, slightly slutty Alex. Her lady in the streets and her whore in the sheets. She wants him in his, her, his little black dress. The one that falls mid-thigh. And a pair of heels. Not like a prostitute or a skank, but sexy enough so that everyone's watching. For a second, she remembers fighting with her mother over her first pair of heels, how she had to have them. And now she wonders why.

She knows he isn’t and he better not. He’s working the heels like he was born in them, his ass moving like it had joints and she feels her throat get dry. She swallows, feeling the muscles go up and down, and she feels drops of sweat forming. He better get his ass over here now.

He falls on her, his crotch in her face. She starts licking his....whatever....through his panties and she hears him moan, feels him get wet. And she is now rock hard. She moves him off her and they begin rolling around furiously, tongues, hands and legs intertwined. Grabbing furiously, the heat rising off of them. Alex moves down and pulls off her underwear - with his teeth. His eyes lustful, with an animal grin. She sees his eyes widen when he comes face to face. With it. She’s used to it by now. It’s not fully grown yet, she hopes, but it’s definitely there. The balls aren’t although she feels a pain in her crotch from time to time.

She puts her hand on his head although it’s not necessary. His tongue is already out of his mouth, caressing the underside of it, starting at the base. He moves slowly up and down, up and down and she involuntarily grabs his head.

He stops and looks up at her, a devilish grin on his face. “No no no,” he giggles. “Bad boy,” and he grabs it, digging his nails in ever so slightly. Then, he starts back again. She remembers what a gay friend told her once about this.

She’s not sure when it’s going to happen, but knows it’s imminent unless she does something. “Stop,” she moans. “On your back.”

He gives it a quick peck and rolls over, smiling. His lip gloss is smeared. He looks even sexier. She glances at his crotch and is taken aback for a second. Not that she hasn’t looked before, when he’s getting dressed, but up close the effect is off-putting.

Which she promptly forgets as he throws his legs onto her shoulders, heels still on. “Now,” he half-moans and half-commands. “Now!”

She pins his wrists to the bed and begins pumping away. She had never experimented in college. Her friend Holly called herself ‘try-sexual,’ but she had no interest whatsoever. Not that she hadn’t had offers. In a psych class, she called herself a Kinsey 1. And yet, here she was.

Alex is digging his nails into her back. The jabs of the nails giving way to her heart beating a mile a minute as she feels herself getting rock hard.

“Oh god, oh god,” she yells as Alex’s nails dig into her back so deeply that she wonders if he’s drawn blood. And then it happens. For the first time. She rolls off Alex, spent, breathing heavy.

She looks over at him and he’s smiling at her. She sees the look in his eyes. She knows the look. “Did you…” she asks.

He sighs, “It’s fine.” It isn’t fine. She moves her hand to his crotch and begins playing with it. He begins moaning and wriggling. She plays with it some more and the moaning gets more pronounced, words now reduced to guttural moans. She moves her fingers faster and faster. She feels her wrist getting tired. It never took this long before. Then, he whimpers, a sexy whimper. He convulses a couple of times, and squeaks. She likes the squeak. He rolls over, his hair all tousled and sexy. He kisses her. “Thank you,” and he heads to the bathroom. She sees him sit and then close the door.
---



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