by Cynthia Dane
“No,” Erica was quick to say. “We’re very careful who we tell, as you can imagine.”
“When were you going to tell me?”
Erica’s smile faltered. “Please understand, Natalie, I never mean to mislead anyone I date. It’s simply… necessary.” She took my hand between our chairs. Chills spread through me. Was it the sudden touch? The softness of her skin? The manicure she had the day before, leaving her nails a flirtatious pink? It would be scrubbed by work the next day, I was sure.
Monday. She would go back to being Eric, and I would have no idea what to do.
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
She clutched my fingers. “As soon as I could brave it.”
I understood, truly. Erica couldn’t simply take off her mask and reveal who she really was and expect me to be okay with it. Asinine. Of me. Of her. And a mockery of whatever we may have had beneath the veil of her pageantry.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
I couldn’t bring myself to look at her, even with those sunglasses on her face. “I dunno. For the predicament you’re always in.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“It’s someone’s fault.”
“Yes.” She dropped my fingers and gazed back out at the meadow. “My father’s.”
The part of me that wanted to hold her in consolation did so for purely altruistic reasons. It wasn’t love, desire, or even a cry for friendship. This woman was hurting. She had seen and experienced traumas I could not yet fathom. Her whole life was constructed on a lie, and if the scandal broke out, she could lose everything. Millions would lose everything. Her personal staff, her team… and her employees at Mann-Garrett, wherever they lived in the world.
So much pressure for a mantle she never asked for. What would have things been like if she had been allowed to grow up as herself?
I didn’t want to think about that. The answer was basically Not as successful. Fewer business empires wanted to do business with Erica Mann than they did with her dead brother.
Our day at Blithedale Estate was pleasant, whenever we were not in a Lamborghini cruising at 120mph. After lunch, we strolled through the manicured grounds, flanked by her security team. She told me about her first girlfriend, a young lady who was hardly a lady at all.
“Sherman used to help me sneak out of my house to go meet her.”
“So she always knew that you were a girl?”
“Ah, well… I was still confused and exploring what that meant to me, if anything. She was much the same. Very butch, but conflicted if that meant she was still a woman of if she was destined to transition to a man. It’s what we bonded over, because she found my reality fascinating and asked me for tips on how to pass as a boy.”
“You were passing in public even back then?”
“Of course I was. I was home-schooled, but I still had to leave the house quite often. By the time I was fifteen I didn’t need anyone’s help, although I’ve always had masculinity coaches to make sure I properly present myself in public.”
“You still do that?”
“Yes. Society changes, and I must keep up.”
I couldn’t believe how candidly she spoke of her situation. Before I knew it, we were back in the club, her arm around my waist and teasing me with literary temptations. I simply must see the library.
Erica Mann was a big reader. Without opening a single tome, she could quote the opening lines to not only Hawthorne, but Proust, Tolstoy, and Eliot. Authors I had read in school but never remember their titles. Erica claimed that she was especially a fan of the Russian greats, and Anna Karenina was a book she reread every year.
“I like reading books about rich people sucking at love. Makes me feel a little less alone in the world.”
I didn’t know enough about that book to comment on it, but I made a mental note to buy a digital copy when I returned home.
Erica waited until the early evening to ask me more questions about myself. What was my Taiwanese family like? What book would I take with me to a deserted island? Finally, she forced me to answer the question about where in the world I wanted to go the most.
“I want to go to Beijing,” I said.
“Beijing? Why there?”
“Because it’s Chinese enough to feel like home without being Taiwan.”
“Is Taiwan a home to you?”
I shrugged. “I guess. I’ve only been there a few times.” Most of those times in my childhood, so I barely remembered anything of substance.
By the time dusk arrived, Sherman mentioned that it was time for us to go. Erica took my hand at the coat check and asked if I wanted to go to the Summer Villa with her.
Her eyes lit up when I said that I would. She was even more ecstatic when the team arranged for us to drive in the Lambo, alone. Erica helped me into the passenger seat before I had the chance to admire the wash job Clyde had completed after our sojourn into the dunes.
Meanwhile, I asked myself what the hell I was doing.
Didn’t I know what Erica meant by going back to the hotel with her? She wanted to have sex. Together.
Of course, I could say no. If things got too weird, I could simply walk away and brave the awkward atmosphere Monday morning.
It didn’t help that I could hear Sherman on the phone with Brooke after we arrived at the hotel. Erica had gone ahead with Nick to ready the Presidential Suite. Sherman’s break consisted of him having a smoke outside the lobby. Did he think I had gone ahead with Erica and Nick? Because I sat in a chair right by the door and heard every damnable word.
“She’s like a kid in a fucking candy store,” Sherman spat into his phone. “No, not the intern. Erica. You should see her face. I haven’t seen her like this in forever.”
It didn’t sound like a relief.
“I have no idea what the girl is thinking. She’s gone along with everything, although I think she’s still shell-shocked and doesn’t grasp that her darling Eric is actually Erica. You remember what it was like for you, I’m sure. Who knows. Maybe she thinks she’s getting a payday out of this. It wouldn’t be the first time. Just usually it’s an escort, you know?”
Nick came back down and gestured for me to follow him up to the suite. I was more than happy to get away from Sherman and Brooke’s presence.
“Have a pleasant evening,” Nick said, once we reached the suite. “We’ll be right outside if you need anything. Otherwise, you won’t see us around.”
He said it with a wink. Yeah, we all knew what was going on here.
“Thank you.” With Sherman’s accusations still marked in my heart, I entered the suite.
Chapter 32
ERICA
I didn’t attempt to seduce Natalie right away. I wouldn’t have done that even if I were still posing as “Eric” around her. When I decided I wanted to get to know her better, it didn’t just mean carnally. I wanted glimpses into that heart, as well as her head. Natalie had become more than a temporary lover and potential girlfriend.
She was an investment now. For better or worse, she knew about me. It was only right that I know more about her as well.
We had drinks on the bed as soon as I guaranteed we were alone. As alone as we had been Friday night, although now I had nothing to hide. This was a mulligan. I didn’t need to go into the other room to prepare for lovemaking with someone who didn’t know about my body. Natalie didn’t have to worry about discovering things she was never meant to know. We were just two people hanging out with the possibility of sex hanging above us.
I would have also been more than okay with cuddling and nothing more. However fast or slow she wanted to go, I would accommodate. Like I said. An investment.
Investments take time to mature and recoup their gains.
We lay near one another as we drank and chatted about inconsequential things. My eyes always wandered the outline of her body and memorized every dimple in that bodycon dress. Occasionally, I caught her checking me out as well. I hoped
she liked what she saw, because I was willing to show her everything I had anytime.
Or so I told myself. I knew that when it came down to it, I would be so nervous that it would be a miracle if I got my bra off. In a perfect world, she would greedily rip it off for me and I wouldn’t have to think about it at all.
Imagine that… not having to think during sex!
My nervousness lent to talking about embarrassing facts about myself, like how I gobbled up shows like Sex and the City and The L Word as if they were genuine windows into the kind of life I wanted to openly live. I spent most of my late teens and twenties fantasizing that I was an independent woman who openly dated and slept with other women. I was confident. In control. Absolutely cool with who I was and what I would one day be.
Ha. Ha. Ha.
“You’re very interested in female sexuality, I take it,” Natalie said.
“Of course I am.” Wasn’t everyone? Even Natalie must have been, albeit subconsciously, if she were asking questions like that. “I’ve had male sexuality pounded into my head for as long as I can remember, and I often wonder what I’m missing. If I hadn’t been so diligent in my personal time, I could have easily forgotten what it means to be a woman.”
People may not believe me when I say that, but it’s true. Sometimes it felt like there was only room for one of “me” inside my head. Eventually, Eric would completely take over, and Erica would be gone. I had to be diligent if I wanted to hang on to the real me.
“Does this have to do with the escorts?” Natalie asked.
I was flummoxed by that question.
“What is with the escorts?”
Was that accusatory, or intense investigation on Natalie’s part? After all, I intended to date this woman. Make her my girlfriend. My steady girlfriend. Like there had been little room for my favorite tutors when I was with Brooke, I’d have no room for them with Natalie.
Now, there was a thought. Natalie knew about the escorts. Brooke hadn’t. Not that I slept with them while I was with Brooke. I was nothing but monogamous with her. But she was my first really serious relationship, and I looked to my “friends” to help me navigate those rapids. They answered my questions and hypotheticals. They suggested what I buy Brooke for her birthday and where to take her on our anniversary. After she broke up with me, they filled the rebound void. Only then did I go back to old habits. Why not? What other choice did I have?
“They’re trustworthy, I guess.” The bed swallowed my soul. “You can buy people’s silence.”
“Do you sleep with them?”
I winced. “Fair question, I suppose.”
“Don’t dodge the answer.”
“Then… yes, I do.”
“I see.”
Obviously, this would require prompt explanation. I couldn’t let Natalie’s quick mind start running through possible reasons for me to sleep with escorts and not many others. Even if she figured out half the story on her own, the other half may be so misconstrued that she wouldn’t want anything to do with me. If my dating habits ended things between us, I wanted her to at least have the whole story.
“I can be upfront with them,” I said. “I can say that I’m female and wanting to learn more about my sexuality thanks to my stupid situation. They’re patient to a fault, because I’m paying them to be. I didn’t get a lot of chances to date, whether as myself or as Eric. If I wanted to eventually have relationships with women, I needed to know how to please them in the bedroom. I needed to know how to please myself. And, you know…” Why was this the most embarrassing thing to admit? “With so much bullshit about being a man shoved into my brain, I needed a release for the side of me that wanted to experiment with standard femininity. I had no female friends I could be out to.”
“Are you saying that escorts taught you how to walk in heels and apply your makeup?”
“Perhaps I am saying that?” Was that so strange?
Natalie contemplated my unexpected answer for a few seconds. “So by the time you did have a girlfriend, you were ready to rock her world.”
“I certainly hoped so.” No comment on whether that actually happened. It’s my understanding that we were all awkward teenagers once.
Natalie flashed me her best bedroom eyes. “Can’t say I have any complaints about how well you did.”
“I know,” I said. “I was there.”
Suppose that was meant to be flirtatious banter. Also suppose that my quip ruined whatever mood Natalie sought, because two seconds later she was turning away, her hair shrouding her face and preventing me from seeking the countenance I craved.
It was now or never, wasn’t it?
“Natalie…” I brushed her hair behind her ears. If nothing else, I would see her face up close once last time. Intimacy was something I always craved – I took what I could get. “May I kiss you?”
She shyly smiled. “If it pleases you.”
My smile was not shy. Not even a little bit.
If there’s one thing I’m confident about, it’s my kissing abilities. I don’t merely say that because I’ve had rave reviews from previous lovers, but because I have experienced the effects myself. When I kiss a woman, I only have one goal in mind: make her forget. Forget where she is. Forget who she is, and most of all, who I am. Whether I’m intentionally coming across as a man or a woman doesn’t matter. I don’t want my lover to think of anything but the here and now… and what we’re doing.
That was especially true for Natalie, who knew how well I could kiss. The one we shared that Friday night had claimed enough of her soul to make her agree to going out with the real me. I also took solace in the fact that she had knowingly kissed a woman before, even though my goal was the same as always…
Make her think I was the best person, man or woman, to ever kiss her. That was it. That was all that mattered.
Natalie responded with the ardor I hoped to elicit. Her arms wrapped around my shoulders, and her tongue wrapped around mine until we explored each other’s mouths with the sort of abandon only two helpless women in love could inspire. I briefly opened my eyes to check her reaction.
Her eyes were closed.
I pressed upon her, sinking us both into the bed while my hand traveled up her leg. The butterflies I harbored in my stomach flew to the other parts of my body that begged for more excitement. Touches. Kisses. Sex. Was it possible for me to completely make love to Natalie with everything I had? With the knowledge that she wasn’t afraid to be with me? As much as I hate to admit it, there was a tiny sliver of a memory where I remembered the first time I made love to Brooke as a woman, the first time she saw my naked body and beheld my female form after three years of being together. The shock, the small flash of betrayal… I will never forget. It set the tone for so long, that here I was, feeling up Natalie’s thigh while kissing her lips and fearing that the dark cloud would descend upon us at any moment.
I may have fished for reassurance. The trick was to mask my insecurities with confidence.
“Do you like my kisses?” I muttered upon Natalie’s lips.
She nipped my tongue before replying. “I do.”
“Do you like anything else?”
“I like a lot of things that you’re capable of.” She took my hand, the one not caressing her soft thighs. “I like what these can do.”
A rush of excitement pulled me off her. My giddiness needed an outlet. A grin and a twist of my hips would have to do. “You know…” I said, enjoying the memories of our times making love, “I don’t think that’s the only thing you liked last weekend.”
“Hm?”
The images blinding me were exquisite. Natalie, naked and bound to my bed, her blindfold as intriguing as it had been revitalizing. The way she responded to the fabric touching her skin was like watching a woman wake up to every sense as I gradually put them to sleep. “You really got off on me tying you up.”
“Well, that was…” She wiggled next to me. See? I wasn’t the only one with redirected energy. “That was
pretty hot. I get why you did it, but…”
“I also did it because I’m into bondage.”
Natalie stiffened. I instantly regretted laying that on her.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have sprung that on you like that.” Putting distance between us was now a necessity. I sat up, unable to confront her as she processed what I said. “I must sound like a bigger deviant than you already knew.”
Her words came out with her carefully calculated breaths. “I don’t think you’re a deviant.”
She said it so softly that I almost thought I made it up. “Is that so?” Laughter sprang forth from my chest. “Because I was about to make the case that I’m only into bondage and none of the other shit.”
“Aw.” Natalie inched closer to me. “Not even spanking?”
“Never mind. You’re the deviant one.” And her deviance spoke to me. If I were an unrepentant pervert who couldn’t help how she was raised – and subsequently fucked over – then I needed a woman who understood what it meant to fetishize the most random shit. It was the only way to guarantee that she wanted me every day. “Does my body bother you, Natalie?”
She was as shocked as I was that I said that. “Where did that come from?”
I glanced at her perfect physique in that dark, irresistible bodycon dress. To think, this could be the last image I ever had of her. Wasn’t it inevitable that she would take off again like she had Friday night? This woman, this dress, her body in a frenzy as she screamed for her sanity. Or perhaps that was me every Friday night.
“Because I don’t want this night to continue with the possibility of you running away.”
She brushed her hand against my arm. Tingles. Rage. Both exploded within me. It shouldn’t be that hard to accept a woman’s affections, for fuck’s sake! Didn’t I love them? Didn’t I want a woman I trusted in my bed every night for the rest of my life, regardless of what I was? That was it, though. The trust. I didn’t have it with Natalie yet. Any trust I had built up with her over the past week was shattered when she ran away from my tits.