5. Arlene

FIVE

Arlene

S omehow—and to Dad’s amusement—I managed to unstick from my phone screen long enough to grab my things and leave the office. For a finance company, he was pretty strict about no one staying after hours if they could avoid it.

I was usually the first one out of the building, but I kept getting distracted all day with Claude’s texts. Apparently new age PR companies had a very lax policy on use of phones. My dad was a bit more traditional, although being strict had never been his thing. It depended on the day.

He’d lean on the strict side if he caught wind of my latest exchange with Claude. We’d been texting on and off all day. I’d been thinking about asking them to meet up, but their boss was making them do overtime because of some new client.

It annoyed me to degrees that went beyond logic.

When Claude had eventually left, after I had to insist they take some of the cheesecake bars to their place, I’d thought that was it. Sure, I could look back and acknowledge that it hadn’t all been a complete disaster. I’d genuinely believed there was not going to be a second anything, though.

But then they texted a link to a gossip site about a baking show with the messiest contestants. We’d been texting ever since —which had been two days ago. So, maybe I was getting a bit attached and jumping the gun too soon.

I mean, jokes about sapphics being oblivious aside, there was a chance of something, right? I’d take anything, too—friends, friends with benefits… Whatever. I wasn’t picky.

There was no finding out if I was moving too fast or not, though, if Claude’s boss kept them in an office where I could not test all my admittedly very hormonal inner ramblings and wishful thinking.

It wasn’t just me, though. Sure, I was on the bus on my way home rereading the last texts we’d exchanged, and my stomach fluttered with nerves, but… Even if I’d always felt more comfortable over texts than I did in person, I’d never opened up so much with someone I hadn’t been friends with for years.

Claude

Can I ask you something personal?

Arlene

Go ahead

Claude

Okay, so I don’t usually talk about anything sexual or kinky with anyone, but I was actually comfortable with you, and when I’m comfortable I start getting more curious, so…

When you said you’re turned on by BDSM stuff, what does that look like for you?

Arlene

Huh?

What do you mean?

Claude

So for example, I can get aroused, but I don’t like touching myself or being touched. Too much dysphoria.

But I know that’s just me and other trans people experience things differently, and have different relationships to their bodies, and it’s kind of fascinating to me?

Arlene

Oh

We’re going there, then?

Claude

I mean, obviously not if it makes you uncomfortable

Sorry

Some people say I’m too forward

I don’t always read the room

We can just ignore this conversation and you can explain something baking to me

Arlene

No, it’s fine!

I actually don’t have many trans friends, so I’m… rusty, is all

I’m non-op. I like bottoming, and muffing, and having my clit played with like one would a cis woman’s clit

Does that make sense?

Claude

Yeah

I’ve heard of muffing, but I’ve never seen it

WHICH IS NOT A COME ON

Sorry

I just meant, I’m not completely clueless, but I kind of am, too

Arlene

lmao

That’s fine

I hadn’t texted anything more, and Claude soon started to complain about their boss’s email requesting them to stay longer.

To be fair, what was I supposed to say? Invite someone on the ace spectrum to watch me fuck myself? Offer to give them a tutorial?

I cringed just imagining those scenarios.

No, Claude could bring up the thing again if they really wanted to. In the meantime, I was going to do my best to pretend this conversation never took place—and figure out a way to either ask them out or get them to ask me out.

The latter felt like the safest option, to be honest.

I supposed I could bake something again. Enticing them with food seemed to do the trick. Then again, I’d just baked for them, and we’d just met, and being at my place had definitely not played in my favor last time.

I needed a neutral ground where my head wouldn’t go straight to… any of the scenarios it really shouldn’t go. Not yet, at least.

Arlene

Are you at least eating something?

Claude

Just so you know, I’m usually the caregiver in a group

Arlene

That’s not an answer

Claude

Whatever

I’ll grab something on the way home

I had a huge burrito for lunch, so I’m good

Arlene

Oh

Yum

I covered my mouth with one hand. I was brimming with nerves. A part of me wanted to just take the leap and ask Claude out for dinner, but… No. I wasn’t the kind of girl who took the first step like that.

Was I?

Claude

Were you trying to imply something?

Arlene

What if I was?

Hypothetically

Claude

I’d say yes to some fries from Randy’s

Arlene

Deal

Text me when you’re done stalking whoever it is you’re stalking

Claude

You don’t have to make it sound weird

But I will

Damn, I really want those fries now

All I could say was that I did not squeal or otherwise embarrass myself while in public. No, I behaved and waited until I was in my room and face-planting on my bed.

I’d just, somehow, scored a date.

That didn’t happen—not really. My attempts at dating before today had consisted of creepy dating-slash-hook up apps. I hadn’t been approached by someone in a diner, or any of the meet-cute stories from the rom-com movies I cried too much with.

Sure, comparing this with rom-com movies was probably one leap too many.

Still.

S tep #1: Find clothes to wear. Check.

Step #2: Don’t get sidetracked with things to do around the house and end up being late. Check—I actually got to Randy’s twenty minutes before the time we agreed on.

Step #3: Ask server for a more isolated table. Check.

Step #4: Don’t bite on nails or anything else that would ruin the look. Check—for now.

Zo, one of the full-time servers at Randy’s, had just brought some coffee to the table when I saw Claude walk in.

Step #5: Deep breaths. I was on it.

Sure, my heart was racing faster than it was probably healthy, but it was fine. Understandable, too, after all the scenarios I’d conjured up in my head all evening.

“Hey, Zo!” Claude didn’t wait to be sat down. No one seemed bothered by it. “I’m starving.”

“Let me guess.” Zo chuckled. She was in her 30s, but sometimes reminded me of those cute grandmas in TV shows that adopted everyone around them. “Fries?”

“And as much coffee as you can legally serve me.”

Zo chuckled. “Coming right up.”

I had a second of panic when she whirled around. Her leaving meant it was just Claude and me. I really shouldn’t have been left alone with my own imagination all day.

The air felt charged. Maybe it was just me. Should I stand up to greet them? It didn’t feel like my style—or Claude’s—and they’d already sat down, but…

“Hey.” I pushed past the growing nerves and smiled. It was fine. We’d just been talking all day about stuff I didn’t really talk about with anyone else, but it was fine. No need to read too much into any of it. “Did you finish the stuff for work?”

“Yeah.” Claude groaned. Whereas I sometimes thought I worried too much about my posture, and everything else in how I presented myself, I’d noticed Claude didn’t have the same problem. They just leaned back against the pink leather in the booth and rolled their eyes. Not that I should be having these thoughts, but it was oddly attractive. “The boss is happy, too.”

“She saw it already?” I thought she’d said their boss had left before them.

“Yeah, she’s always online.” Claude shook their head. “Complete workaholic, but hey… Can’t complain.”

I wrinkled my nose. “I mean, you can .”

Claude dismissed it with the wave of a hand. “You know what I mean.”

I got the feeling that I didn’t, not completely. I should steer away from heavy topics, though. “Well, I’m glad you could make it anyway.”

“Sure.” Claude tilted their head to the side. “By the way, there’s a club not too far away. They open during the week, but they don’t have anything set up till the weekend, so it should be pretty quiet.”

Here I was, trying to avoid heavy topics. I supposed it was still better?

My throat dried up. “Have you been before?”

“A couple times,” Claude confirmed. “It’s tiny. Chill. I can ask Cin too, but the club they go to is more involved.”

“No.” I shook my head right away. “Tiny’s good.”

I couldn’t help but look around as I spoke. No one was paying us any mind, but it was still wild to think that I was talking about going to a kink club with someone in public.

“I thought so.” Claude grinned. They looked pleased with themselves. “Wednesday?”

Wednesday meant almost a week of imagining every possible scenario. It was probably better than the alternative of, say, going tomorrow, and the panic that came with having no time to prepare.

“Wednesday works. I mean, I’ll text you, but it should work.”

I foresaw a lot of baking this weekend. I was pretty sure that Dylan had said something about family visiting, so maybe I could offload it on him. His family had loved it last time when I’d set myself up to bake a three-tiered cake and miscalculated how much cake that would actually be.

Yeah.

It would be fine.

Zo arrived with the new carafe of coffee for Claude then, and a promise that the fries would come in shortly. I wasn’t too hungry, but maybe we could share a dessert or something, later. I didn’t always have the best appetite.

“Okay.” Claude smiled at Zo before turning that smile on me. The new hair color really highlighted their eyes. “Do you have any gear?”

Oh.

Um…

Goodbye, pretending to be moderately calm about this. “What were you planning to wear?”

“I usually just wear black clothes with a harness on top,” Claude said. It was their turn to squirm. I didn’t love that they were uncomfortable, but there was something about not being alone in that… feeling. “It’s pretty bad quality, but it does the work.”

“Right.” I swallowed. I was stupid. Who else wouldn’t think of the dress codes when thinking of going to a kink club? Ugh. “I think I can do that.”

If I remembered correctly, kink clubs were okay with goth clothes, right? I’d gone through a bit of a goth phase once. I was pretty sure I could reuse some of the clothes I hadn’t donated.

Worst case scenario, I could follow Claude’s lead and order some cheap harness online once I got home. It… It was fine.

“Cool.”