Works/All Things To All People

My sex drive didn't hit me until I was twenty-two. Then it made up for lost time. God. I'd sneak into a bathroom between classes and masturbate, trying not to grunt when I came in case anybody else was around, wiping my dick off with toilet paper so there wouldn't be a wet spot on my pants. I started wearing loose slacks because I was walking around with a hard-on all the time and I figured the girls were laughing at me enough as it was. When I went to bed at night sometimes I'd have to jerk off twice before I could sleep.

It wasn't like there was anything I could do about it. I mean, if I'd been stupid enough to ask a guy about it he'd have just told me to get a girlfriend. Or to just keep doing what I was doing. Half the guys who talked all the time about how much ass they were getting were probably dating the ever-popular Rosie Palm. If straight men had tits most of them'd never need women. Sometimes I think gay men are more honest.

I couldn't talk to women. Even the little things. I'd go to a restaurant and the waitress would ask me what I wanted to drink and my hormones would have me stuttering and drooling. I figure every woman anywhere near the college had gotten the word: They all thought I was a moron.

I just about gave up. I'd go someplace and I'd hear the giggles behind me. I didn't dress badly, I didn't stink, I kept my teeth brushed. I'm not fantastic-looking but I know I'm not ugly either. I didn't say geeky things or stupid things and I didn't act arrogant and I wasn't spastic. In fact I tried not to open my mouth. But I managed to be ridiculous anyway.

I didn't like guys, I couldn't get near girls, and I figured I'd be getting real friendly with my hand over the years. So I guess everybody'll have a good laugh about this: Not only was my one good friend female, but she was the most gorgeous thing in the school.

I don't know how I met Dee. Wasn't in a class; I didn't talk to anybody in class. It must have been some activity, but damned if I can remember which one. I did a lot of weird things, like square dancing and stuff; I was always hoping to find that magic activity that'd break the ice and suddenly make me able to form a complete sentence. They never worked, but wherever we were, at some point I started talking to her and we just stayed friends after that. Or maybe she started talking to me.

I think the hormones were never a problem because she was so drop-dead gorgeous. Everything I wanted to look at in one package. I think my brain just said, "Nope, out of your league, son," and gave up right away. I knew I could never date her. That made her safe to talk to. I mean, I didn't have to put on a good impression or try to avoid making a fool of myself. Well, that's my theory, anyway.

Y'know I can't remember the way she looked then? So much has changed - I can't tell you know what hair color I thought was sexy then or how big her breasts were. It's not important. Whatever I was most attracted to then, take my word, Dee was it.

"I'm really glad you get along with me, Joey," she said one day. We were meeting to study over coffee. We had a class together for the first time, and we'd compare notes every couple of days. It was the first thing she said when she sat down.

"Uh-oh," I said. "What happened?"

"Did you know you're the only guy who'll have a conversation with me? .... Is that funny?"

"Sorry," I said, losing the smile. "Did you know you're the only girl I can have a conversation with?"

"Oh, am I a girl?"

"What?"

"Sorry. I mean - well, yeah, I did notice that. But you don't think about getting into my pants all the time."

"Um ...."

"You do?"

I wasn't about to tell her my theory. "Well, you - you never seemed interested, and we get along so well, I didn't want to screw that up ...."

She shook her head, "You people are all - never mind."

"No, go on."

"Well, it's like sex is in one box and everything else is in another. It's crazy. Can't you have sex with your friends? If you have sex with somebody does that mean you stop talking to them?"

"For some people, yeah, it does. I agree it's pretty stupid -"

"Stupid? Try fatal. Hell. I'm sorry. Let's just get to work, okay?"

We opened books but didn't really do anything. Didn't look at each other. Stared at our own pages, pretending to read. Finally I sighed. "This is what gets a lot of people," I said. "Now that you know I'd sleep with you, everything's different. Tense. You see?"

"And if I say I've always been interested in having sex with you, what happens then? Do you explode?"

"Don't be pissed -"

"I just don't understand it!" she said. "I don't understand how he can be Mr. Charming for a month and then we have a weekend together and now he's a Neanderthal! ... Why did you assume I wasn't interested?"

"Um ... you first."

"You did a good job of hiding it."

"I get rejected by everybody. You're the - well, I figured you would too."

"Do you even ask?"

"Ask? Hell, I can't even talk to women. I just fall over my own tongue."

"But you can talk to me. And you think I'm attractive." It wasn't a question.

"You have no idea .... Okay, look." I closed my book, took a long swig of coffee, and explained my theory. She blinked at me a few times.

"Wow," she said.

"Is that good or bad?"

"That - I think - wow."

"Help me out here."

She realized she wasn't making sense. "Sorry. Why don't you come to my apartment?"

"Did I miss something important?"

She had already put down money for the coffee and was packing her books. "C'mon."

I'd never been to her apartment before. It looked like she had a lot more money to burn than I did. I lived by myself too, but mine was the size of a walk-in closet. "Want something to drink?" she asked.

"Got any hemlock?" I said. She wasn't supposed to hear it.

"I'd almost think there was something wrong with me," she said, walking back into the room. She had stripped above the waist. I took one look at her breasts and felt the blood hurrying from my head down into other parts of my body where it was more urgently needed. "I mean, you do want to have sex with me?"

"I - well - of course I do, but what if that's a mistake? I mean, I'd like to be able to still talk to you later."

"Then talk to me later," she said, moving up next to me. She started to pull my t-shirt over my head.

"But - mmph - what if you don't want to talk to me?"

"Why wouldn't I?" she asked, tossing the shirt on the kitchen table.

"Well, maybe the sex will be lousy?"

She laughed. "Right." She took my hand and dragged me into the bedroom.

Already barefoot, she pulled off her jeans and panties together and kicked them out of the way. She jumped onto the bed and rolled over onto her back to look up at me. I sat on the edge of the bed and slowly removed my shoes and socks. She sat up and grabbed me around the waist while I was trying to do this.

"Damn, you're slow," she said, nibbling the back of my neck. "But at least you taste good."

I took off my pants and crawled up onto the bed. "Hey, what about these?" she said, tugging the elastic of my briefs. "Are you going to have sex with them on?"

"Yeah, it's a prophylactic thing."

She stuck out her tongue. "I have better ones. C'mon, take 'em off."

I pulled them down over my hips and kicked them off my feet. I felt - well, I guess I can't say "I felt naked." What I was doing was waiting for her to start laughing at my body.

Instead, she was running her hands along my stomach, letting them creep down to my crotch. "Oh, don't do that," I said, as she took my dick in her hand and rubbed it a little between fingers and thumb.

"Why not?" she asked, moving her whole hand up and down it gently.

"Because I'm about to come on your hand," I said.

She stopped. "Are you really excitable, or should I be flattered?"

"Take your pick," I said. I pushed her onto her back. "Um, ignore it for a while and maybe it'll calm down. Let me see how you taste." I was doing a little better now that I hadn't been rejected.

"Probably pretty sweaty," she said. I licked one of her nipples. I couldn't believe I was here. I mean, this was my dream woman. She was perfect. The curve of her breasts, the hollow of her throat, her stomach, her hips, her legs ... I let one hand wiggle its fingers in her pubic hair while tracing her curves with my other hand, feeling the different textures of her skin.

"Move that other hand a little lower while you do that," she said. "Yeah, there. Try that."

I hadn't done enough to know whether I was doing anything right. I mean I knew what a clitoris was, but were you supposed to be firm with it, careful, what? I wasn't a virgin, but my two previous sexual experiences in high school hadn't really been good practice. "You're going to tell me if I'm doing anything wrong?" I said.

"You're not doing anything wrong," she said, exhaling. "Don't worry, you won't break it. Mmm. Yeah, little circles. Just like that."

I couldn't kiss her on the lips, which was probably a good thing - I was sure I kissed like a Saint Bernard - so I kissed her on the stomach and on the insides of her thighs, where the skin was really soft.

"Oooh. Oh, stop for a minute. How are you doing?"

"Um, still on duty, ma'am."

She rolled over and dug in a drawer of her night stand, tossed a condom packet at me. "Put that on. Or I can do it." She grinned.

"I'd better do it or it might be too much fun," I said. I rolled the condom on. Part of me wondered why it was so much easier than the last time I'd tried. Then I realized I was a lot more aroused than that time. Like I said, my previous experiences hadn't been too great.

"Cute," she said, inspecting the result. "Bring that over here."

I got on top of her, expecting to have trouble, but something went right - slid just where it was supposed to be and she sighed pleasantly, and I realized that even with the condom I wasn't going to last very long.

I started to move my hips back and forth, I guess a little hesitant, and she grinned and grabbed my ass with her hands and pulled it toward her. "Like I said, I don't break."

I grinned then too, but I had been close to the edge even putting on the condom. Two or three more thrusts and I sort of shuddered and closed my eyes as I came. But I didn't grunt.

"I knew that was going to be quick," I said. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry," she replied. "That just means you'll recharge fast. How about you go back to those hand exercises?"

I was able to laugh then, and I pulled out and lay beside her, putting my hand back in and finding her clit with my index finger. "More of this, you mean?" I asked, bullying it slowly.

"Mmmm. But faster."

I put in another finger or two and played around stickily. She started to breathe heavier and faster. She wriggled her hips to match what I was doing. If I tried to be light on the touch, her ass rose up and pressed her clit into my fingertips. This was all new to me. I admit it: I wasn't sure if I was going to know when she came. If she came. But she was definitely enjoying it.

I knew when she came. It would have been hard to miss.

"Wow," I said, after my left ear - the one that had been near her head - stopped ringing. "Um, how long does it take you to recharge?"

"Not long at all," she said.

- - -

The next day, I skipped the class we shared, and I didn't talk to Dee for a couple of days. Yeah, I was being an idiot, but the thing was, I really didn't want to know. She had laughed me off when I said the sex might be lousy, but given how inexperienced I was, I figured the odds were for it. Even if she'd enjoyed it. And I didn't want to know. I didn't want to have to look at her and know that I wouldn't have sex with her ever again.

But I finally figured, well, I wasn't going to have sex with her again, so I could just give up on that and go back to the way things were before, right? Same logic I'd always used. No point in worrying about what you can't have.

When I finally did see her, she made me tell her all of this.

"Right thing for the wrong reasons," she said, shaking her head. "Well, at least you got a clue and called me again. Are all men like this about sex?"

"Well, hell," I replied. "wouldn't you be? I mean, look at me next to some of these guys around here. I can't compete with that. And women won't give you a second look unless you're the sexiest or the best in bed, so why shouldn't I be paranoid?"

"But everybody is lying, Joey," she said. "Women are pretending to be unavailable so they won't look easy. Men are pretending to be jerks so they won't look vulnerable. The whole thing gives me a headache."

"And you don't pretend to be anything," I said.

"I wouldn't say that." She looked at her coffee cup.

"So - um -"

"You really aren't going to relax until I tell you, are you?" She laughed. "Okay. You haven't had sex with too many people, right? But you were very nice to my body, and you enjoyed what you were doing. That puts you ahead. I'd have sex with you again. I probably will. Hey, you were the one who wanted to know." She saw me fidgeting. "Let's get to work, then. Did you miss class because you were avoiding me? That was dumb."

I don't know if it was because of that conversation, or because I'd changed the way I thought of her, but after that I noticed Dee in more places than I ever had before. Okay, well, I'm not being completely honest. It's not like I stalked her or anything, more like I tried to be in places I knew she'd be. Sometimes I'd just happen to be walking down the street where she lived when I knew she'd be coming home on the other side. Things like that.

It wasn't the smartest thing I've ever done. Because I didn't like what I saw: If she spent a night alone, it was by bad luck. No, really. I'd had no idea that she had sex with so many people. And I don't just mean men. One night I saw her at the college movie series with a woman, arms around each other's shoulders. (I wasn't following her that time; I'd gone to see the movie too.) And the woman was a surprise too. I mean, I hate to be nasty here, but all the lesbians on campus dressed a certain way, and this wasn't one of them. This was one of those squeaky-clean prom queen girls, the kind who's going to either be a hell-on-wheels businesswoman in a power suit or who's going to marry a rich husband and wear furs.

Okay, I'm being a jerk. But I was surprised, that's the point. And, yeah, kinda upset. At the time. It's funny that all the men didn't upset me as much as seeing her with a woman did.

"Saw you at the movies the other night," I said the next time we met.

"Hmm?" she said, intent on something in the textbook.

"You've got to be careful," I said. "This isn't a very good place for that kind of thing. There's people who'd love to beat you up for that."

"You're jealous, aren't you?"

"No, I mean it. I'm surprised she let you put your arm around her in public."

"I guess you didn't see us kissing then," she said, not bothering to hide her amusement. "Relax. Nothing ever happens. Besides, she's straight."

"Sure," I said.

She sighed. "Have you been learning anything lately?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know perfectly well what I mean," she said. "You've been watching me every chance you get. What have you learned? Got anything to show for it?"

"Well ... I've discovered that you have sex with an awful lot of people."

"And that makes you mad." She rolled her eyes. "Get over it."

We didn't say anything to each other for a while.

"You know," she said, "when we met I assumed you were gay."

"What?"

"Well, gay men take a little longer to react. Because they're more cautious, you know. They have to watch themselves in public. Like you said."

"But a -"

"Wait, I'm getting there. But then you didn't react even after we became friends. So I figured maybe you were just one of those people who didn't. My mother told me there'd be a few, but I'd never met one before. It was really disorienting. All this time watching me," she said, "and all you take away from it is that I'm a slut. Did you ever wonder why so many people are even interested?"

"Well, no. I mean, it seemed pretty obvious."

"Because I'm the most attractive person you've ever seen. So everyone else is attracted to me too? Kinda narrow there, don't you think?"

"Um ...."

"Relax, I'm pulling your chain. Hey, Janet!" she called to our regular waitress. To me she said, "Don't say anything until I tell you."

Janet came over. "If you were describing me to somebody, what would you say?"

"Human," Janet replied.

"No, come on, I'm serious."

Janet sighed. "Okay ... you're a white male about six-three, skinny, fairly dark skin, dark brown eyes, wavy black hair to the top of your shoulders. Your left ear is pierced. I can't think of any other obvious things."

I was trying not to let my jaw hit the table.

"Am I attractive?" Dee asked her. "I mean, if the police were asking?"

Janet looked embarrassed. "Um, yes, very much. What's the point here?"

"Nothing really. Thanks." Janet moved away quickly. "You can talk now," Dee said.

"Somebody is on some serious drugs."

She laughed. "Nope. Janet was calling it like she saw it."

"But you are not a guy! I mean, I think I've seen enough to know!"

"To you I'm not. And keep your voice down. Everybody sees something different when they look at me. They see the most attractive person they can imagine. Until you told me, a couple of weeks ago, I wasn't sure whether you were seeing a male or a female. Allison, the woman you saw me with at the movie, is straight. She thinks I'm a man. You think I'm a woman."

"But - well, what are you really?"

She grinned. "Beats me."

"Okay, hang on. I mean, how can you not know? You'd be able to feel it if you had breasts. So do you have them right now or not? It's got to be one or the other."

"No, it doesn't. Too many people in here can see me; they each have a different idea of what I am. One second I feel like maybe I have breasts, and then I don't. You're focusing on me right now, so I can almost feel them there. When Janet was describing me, I almost felt like I had a penis."

I tried to swallow this information. Was she crazy? Either she was crazy or Janet was crazy - or I was. "What about when we were having sex? I mean, there are some things where you have to have one set or the other -"

"Well, that's the good part. When I'm with only one person - especially when I'm having sex with them and they're very focused on me - then I get to actually stay one thing for a while." She sighed. "Some people don't focus that well; they'd be able to fuck a sofa and get the same result. All they're interested in is whether I've got a rod or a hole. Usually a hole."

I wondered how my coffee cup had gotten so empty.

"Would you like to come to my apartment?" she asked.

"Are you sure?"

"You had focus," she said.

We got to her place and she unbuttoned her shirt. A flannel shirt; made her look a little like a lumberjack. A cute lumberjack. She didn't have anything under that. "I guess it makes it hard to wear a bra," I said.

"I wore one sometimes," she said, raising her voice as she moved into the other room, "when I was seeing this guy who had a thing about really big breasts." She walked back in, wearing just her panties. "I always knew when he was coming into focus - it was like I had inflatable beach balls on my chest and someone was pumping them up as fast as they could. They were such a pain to carry around that I started bringing a bra with me. Just in case. But usually they manage fine by themselves. Did I mention that you're slow?"

I still hadn't removed anything. "Oh. Yeah, you did." I pulled off my shirt.

We lay on the bed together. She seemed in less of a hurry now that all clothes were off. "You're still trying to decide whether to swallow this," she said.

"Well -"

"No, it's okay. What do I look like?"

"Huh?"

"Well, I could go look in the mirror, now that I'm alone with you, and get an idea, but you tell me."

"What do you see in the mirror if there are lots of people around? Or nobody?"

"If it's nobody, I look like whatever's left over - the strongest shape someone left me in recently. If it's crowded -" She shivered. "Um, I try not to look in mirrors then."

I described her. Like I said before, I don't really remember now. Maybe I liked supermodel blondes then. Maybe she was one of those rose-cheeked Irish redheads with the creamy skin. It doesn't matter.

"Do you like any other kind of appearance? I mean, is that the only format you go for?"

I shook my head. "Plenty of others."

"Pick one and try to concentrate on it. Want it. Hard to do, but maybe you'll see something. I know it happens sometimes because I've had people freak out in bed."

I picked something else - maybe it was the Irish lass. I tried to imagine myself in bed with the coleen of my dreams, and - "Hey!"

"Do I look any different?"

"Um, just your hair. Wow." No real surprise - that was probably the least important thing in my "ideal woman" package. As my brain got used to the idea, her hair stopped shimmering between colors and stayed in its new shade.

"I'm not pulling your leg."

"You're not. Why tell me?"

"Because you're going to keep it to yourself and not freak out about it."

"I'm not?"

"No. You're not," she said, bending her face over mine and kissing me slowly. Her tongue moved in, sort of teasing my lips apart. I hoped I wasn't a Saint Bernard. I let my tongue touch hers, not really willing to risk much more.

She put a hand on my dick, which was almost-painful hard. "How can you be one of the shyest men I've ever slept with and one of the most easily aroused?"

"Just lucky, I guess. Hey! If you keep doing that, you know what'll happen."

"Uh-huh," she said.

About two minutes later it did happen. "You did that on purpose," I said, lying back, enjoying the sensation despite myself.

"I figure," she said, reaching in the nightstand with her other hand, "that the way you recharge, it'll be up again in just a second. Then we'll get a nice long ride."

"Um ..."

"Hey, it's win-win for you, right?" She pulled out a condom and some baby wipes. "Now lie back and let me clean up this mess you made."

"Oh, like it's my fault."

- - -

I couldn't sleep. I thought Dee was asleep, but I felt her fidget.

"It's got to be hard to buy clothes," I said. "In the men's stores almost everyone thinks you're female, and in the women's stores -"

"No, that's easy. There's a second-hand place downtown where almost all the clerks are lesbians, and about a dozen men's stores where the staff are gay. Besides, nobody cares. You could go shop in a women's clothing store and you wouldn't even get a dirty look."

"I don't think so."

"Trust me. Even if they didn't think you were buying stuff for someone else, they wouldn't react. But I do wear more male clothes."

"That's what got me thinking about it."

"Yeah. The way you see my body changes, but not the way you see my clothes. Not much, anyway. Male clothes usually look more acceptable on women than the other way around. You want to know what really causes problems?"

"What?"

"Bathrooms."

"Oh."

"Right. I'm most likely to be a woman in the men's room and a man in the women's room. Some places have a third door for a handicapped toilet. I like to use those."

"When you're in one of those, what gender are you?"

"Too hard to tell. I always sit down. If I feel like I have a penis, I make sure it's pointing into the bowl. It may vanish while I'm doing it."

"Isn't that - I don't know -"

"I've been this way my whole life. I've gotten used to it."

"What happens if a bunch of people start comparing notes about you?"

"They don't. Just like no one's going to give Allison hell because she was kissing a woman in the movie. Just like nobody's going to give you hell if they saw you go back to a man's apartment tonight."

"Oh, god."

"No, calm down. Really. I don't know how this is part of the package, but it is. That kind of trouble just doesn't happen."

"I hope not."

Two days later, Dee brought me home again. Then again the night after. Then we went for a week without seeing or contacting each other. She didn't answer her phone. Finally I just decided to show up to study at our usual time and place, figuring maybe she would and maybe she wouldn't. She did.

"I'm really sorry," she said as soon as she sat down.

"What happened?"

She sighed. "Cold feet. Are you free tonight?"

She didn't want to explain more than that, no matter how hard I tried. But I did stay there that night, and the next night, and every night after that for two weeks ... and I was starting to think up good ways in my head to ask whether this was going to be permanent. Semi-permanent. Okay, regular. No, I guess it was regular already. That was the problem with the question.

I wanted it to be permanent, but I couldn't really believe that would happen. It hadn't changed anything else in my life. Women still giggled at me and men still didn't want to have anything to do with me - or the other way around. It still felt like the thing that didn't belong. I suppose I was waiting for something to go wrong.

One morning I was going to the class Dee and I had together. I got there about fifteen minutes early and another class was using the room. So I figured I'd sit somewhere and study. There wasn't any place in the hall, but the next classroom over sounded empty. I opened the door and stepped in - and found Dee and some guy across the top of the desk at the front of the room. He was naked from the waist down, on top of her; mostly what I saw was his butt. Dee had her shirt up, and her pants and panties down around her calves. She turned her head and saw me. By then I was already on my way out of the room.

I didn't go to class.

Dee found me at work that night. I had a research job. It barely paid my rent but it was better than making burgers. I was sitting in the middle of a pile of books, taking notes, and didn't notice her come up until she sat down next to me. I didn't say anything to her.

"I didn't promise you anything," she said.

"I know that."

"This is what I had cold feet about. Joey, please listen."

I put down my pencil. Threw it down, actually.

"When I'm having sex ... that's the only time I feel like a whole person. When I walk through the halls and fifty people can see me at a time, I barely even know who I am. It's like everybody's pulling on me, all different directions at once. I hate it."

"I didn't say anything about your having sex," I said.

"No, but you want to be the only one, and I don't think I can do that."

"I don't want -"

"Listen! You were unhappy because I brought someone home every night, remember? You don't know. I have sex four, five times a day, every day, when I can get it. More if I have the chance, or if I'm having a really bad day and I let myself skip classes. I need it.

"You can't be the only one, get it? Maybe if you gave up your life and your classes, and I wouldn't want that ... and no matter what you might think, you don't want that either."

"What makes you so sure what I want?" I asked.

She sighed. "Would you like to move in with me? I have the space."

I looked away.

"Right. Why not?" she asked, like working a proof.

"I -"

"Because you don't want to share. You just won't admit it. Well, you have to share. If you move in with me, I will not bring anyone else to the apartment without your permission. I'm willing to do that. If it makes you feel better. And I'll give you my nights. I like sharing a bed with you. But you aren't going to be the only person I have sex with. Ever.

"You figure out whether that's good enough or not."

And she got up and left.

I didn't do any more work that evening. I couldn't concentrate. I didn't go over to her apartment that night either.

- - -

I moved my furniture over to her place two days later. I left my old bed behind. Maybe the next tenant could use it.

Copyright © August 2000. Do not distribute or reproduce.