6. Jules

CHAPTER 6

jules

Ginger linked arms with me as we walked to her truck, a restored classic that had been painted a pretty turquoise and kitted out with whitewall tires and gleaming chrome details. The white bench seat had pink stitching, and the steering wheel was made of burled wood.

"Impressive," I said, sliding onto the seat and clicking my safety belt.

"Thanks. Leo and I worked on it together." She pulled out of the parking lot, and we drove past the hall on the way back to the main road.

"You and Leo are close, aren't you?" I asked.

"He's like a brother to me." She laid her open hand between us, and I laced our fingers together. "Even though there are days when I'm tempted to smother him with a pillow, I'd still step in front of a bullet for that boy."

The contact made my heart speed up. "Is he still seeing that nonbinary kid over at the ranch?"

Ginger shook her head, her expression sad. "Lovett asked to pull back a little when they started vet school because their class schedule was so overwhelming. It was probably the right thing to do, but it hurt Leo's feelings. Even though I know he'd never want them to sacrifice their dream, he broke up with them. Hasn't dated anyone since."

"Have you?" I asked, then immediately regretted asking.

She saw my expression and chuckled. "Do you really want to know?"

"No. Yes," I said, cringing.

She pulled up to a stop sign at the frontage road and remained silent until she maneuvered around traffic to make it onto the highway. "I haven't seen anyone since you."

"Really? But you're so amazing. Anyone would be—" She gave me a sideways glance that made me forget whatever it was I thought I wanted to say.

"Like I said, it took me a long time to figure my shit out," Ginger said as we flew past an eighteen-wheeler. "Truth is, I spent a lot of that time trying not to hate myself for needing so much help, and then for not being able to just get past it."

I wasn't sure how to respond. Nothing about this had been easy, and even though we'd only kissed, the endless highway in front of us seemed like an apt metaphor. Instead of trying to fill the space between us with words, I held her hand and let the sound of the road take over.

Ten miles later, Ginger broke the silence. "Something about this feels inevitable, doesn't it?" she asked, sending me a quick look.

"It does. Though… I'm not sure why."

"I think it's because we've always seen each other," she said, her voice soft but sure.

"In what way?"

She kept her eyes on the road as she gestured to my outfit. "The Audrey Hepburn thing—it's a mask, isn't it?"

I huffed but had to admit she was right. "Having a familiar style gives people a positive association beyond ‘Oh, there's that trans girl.'" I shrugged. "She's my favorite fashion icon, but it also makes things easier for me."

"Makes sense."

I examined our still-linked hands. "I could tell, though, that you were aware of that."

Ginger nodded along. "That's because I have my own mask, at least according to my therapist."

"Your ‘I've got it all together' mask?" I asked, grinning. Two could play that game.

"The very one." Her smile was partly amused, partly serious. "I'm super careful about who knows my story because I don't want to deal with people's assumptions."

"It's like when someone's trying to be supportive of me, but you can tell that they're still attempting to translate who— what —I am. They look for the Adam's apple, the five-o'clock shadow. The worst of them stare at my crotch."

Ginger grimaced. "Until the first time we made out, I hadn't even considered that."

"That's because you see Jules the person ." I sighed. "I don't know if you know how rare a gift that is to me."

Her cheeks took on a burnished rose color, and she squeezed my hand.

"I need you to know that even if we get back to my place and you realize I'm not for you, or you can't get beyond my body… you'll still be special to me because you see me."

"Thank you for saying that." Ginger's eyes went shiny. "And maybe it's the passage of time, or maybe it's all the therapy, but I don't feel nervous about your body. Because it's you." She paused. "It's you ." She glanced over at me before returning her attention to the mess that was I-35. "Nothing about you is frightening. Nothing about you is scary or triggering."

"Nothing?" I asked, wiping away a few happy tears. "I thought I was pretty badass back there with those guys."

She threw her head back, laughing freely, exposing the slender column of her neck. Fuck, I wanted to bury my face in her skin and just stay there. "You were entirely badass," she admitted, and I tried not to get lost in her glow.

From there we fell into a comfortable, contemplative silence, save for the occasional murmured direction. Time passed strangely, like we couldn't get there fast enough, and then all of a sudden, as if in a dream, we were walking through my front door.

Once we were inside, however, things got real, quick. Ginger pushed me up against the door and kissed me like the world was ending.

"Hey," I said, taking her shoulders.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, biting her lip. "Am I doing this wrong?"

I shook my head, smiling. "No. Nothing— nothing —about that was wrong. I just… You don't have to prove anything to me. You don't have to show me how okay you are with all of this. You can go slow. It won't make me think less of you."

Ginger let out a nervous breath and shook out her hands. "Thank you for saying that."

I reached out, and she intertwined our fingers. We stood there for a moment, breathing in time with one another, our eyes locked.

I liked that she was taller than me.

"Yeah, I'm good," she said, more to herself than anything.

Then she snaked her long arms around me, pulling our bodies together. Her hair smelled like paradise and Gruene, Texas, and her skin was an intoxicating mix of whatever moisturizer she was using and a bit of sweat from the warm day. I groaned.

My hands went to the small of her back, then drifted down to the top of her ass. "That okay?" I whispered between hungry kisses.

"Lower," she breathed.

I cupped her luscious curves and met her questing tongue, inhaling her scent, loving the low moans and grunts spilling from her mouth. It didn't take long for my body to do what it always did in her presence. I hardened, and she went still.

I let her go and stepped back. "Sorry," I said, linking my hands together in front of my skirt.

She shook her head. "Don't apologize. I just needed a second and maybe some oxygen."

My cheeks flushed hot as I lowered my head.

Her delicate fingertips brushed the underside of my chin. As I chanced a look into her warm brown eyes, she gently tugged on my wrists, pulling my hands apart. She ran her teeth over her bottom lip, her expression heated. "Is it weird that I'm proud of the fact that I made you hard?"

"No." I shook my head. "Or maybe? I don't know. I assume most people would think that skirt erections are a pretty big deal, so if you're feeling some kind of positive way about it, then?—"

Ginger pressed up against me, cutting off my words. She rolled her hips, and I sucked in air, my eyes flying to hers. "Are you sure you're okay with this?"

"I think so." She rolled her hips again, her expression curious and passionate and… happy. "Oh yeah. I'm very okay with this."

Her hands slipped around to my ass as she pulled me in even tighter. The pressure was fucking perfect. "You keep doing that and I'm going to come," I choked out.

She kissed my cheeks. "Bedroom?"

I nodded, then grabbed her hand, starting up the stairs to the loft. Halfway up, Ginger stopped in her tracks, and I looked down at her. This was probably too much. "We don't have to do anything you're uncomfortable with."

She rolled her eyes. "I told you, I'm good. I… had a question. But I don't know how to ask it."

I turned to face her fully. "Just ask."

"What do you call it?" She gestured toward the tent in my skirt.

I flushed. "I call it my lady dick."

She tossed her head back, her copper-penny coils bouncing in the low light. She was laughing, but not at me. "Lady dick," she said, her eyes shining with amusement and approval. "I can get behind that." She considered me for a moment. "So… you're okay with me touching it? I read that some trans women aren't comfortable with using it for sex."

I widened my eyes. She really had done her research. "I'm fine with using my entire body sexually. Are you okay with touching it?"

"Well, now that you've called it a lady dick, I feel like I have to."

"You don't have to do anything," I responded immediately.

"No, that's not what I meant," she insisted. Gesturing at me, she said, "Now I'm curious about what a dick looks like on a girl. That sounds kind of hot, actually."

I giggled. "I'm glad you think so. I happen to think it's hot, but that's just me."

"Not just you," she said, grabbing my hand as she passed me on the stairs.

Seconds later we were at my bedside, and I was suddenly shy. "So… we're going to get naked now?"

"Yes. Naked. Now." She punctuated her words by undoing the knot at her waist and then pulling her tank top over her head.

I gasped, the sight of her overwhelming. "You're not wearing a bra."

Her grin took on a slightly evil look. "No, I'm not."

Her soft breasts were perfect handfuls, and her nipples were a beautiful dark, dusky rose. They peaked under the air-conditioning—or maybe that was arousal. I blinked at them, mesmerized.

"You can touch me," she said, looking amused.

"Don't make fun of me," I grumbled, slipping out of my shoes. "I'm standing before a goddess. I'm supposed to be frozen."

Ginger's laugh was rich and warm. "Keep complimenting me like that," she said as she shimmied out of her skirt.

I swallowed thickly as she revealed delicately embroidered cotton panties that shone against her bronze skin. Again, I was struck speechless by the soft curve of her hips and the fullness of her thighs. Even the sparkly polish on her toenails…

Is it thirsty in here, or is that just me?

"So you don't wear nail polish on your hands," I noted, trying to ground myself, "but you get pedicures?"

She grinned. "I'd think you'd be comfortable embracing complexities." I felt her assessing me. "You can get undressed, Jules. I'm not even remotely anxious about seeing you."

My smile softened as I turned around. "Can you unzip me?"

"Happily."

She slowly slid the zipper down, then pushed the dress off my shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Still facing away from her, I looked down at my body, hesitating.

I had always spent a lot of money on my lingerie because getting a matching bra and panties that accommodated me wasn't easy. The panties were accommodating more than usual at the moment, and I?—

"Turn around, Jules," Ginger ordered softly.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'm absolutely sure."

After taking a fortifying breath, I did as she asked, removing my ponytail holder and then shaking out my hair as I turned to face her.

"Holy shit," she sighed. "You're so goddamned beautiful."

"I am?"

"Your lady dick is so pretty in lace," she said appreciatively. "You wax?"

I shook my head. "Electrolysis. Outside of not being able to get pregnant, facial and body hair were the source of most of my dysphoria. Not having to keep up with it all the time is probably the single most important factor in my mental health."

Ginger bit her lip. "I don't shave or wax," she confessed, the burnished rose color returning to her cheeks. "I hope that's okay. It used to be kinda… compulsory, you know. So, now I let my body do what it's going to do."

"Everything about you is perfect," I said, quick to assuage her fears, now slightly less self-conscious about my body. "I also want to assure you that I got tested after my marriage ended, and I'm negative across the board."

"Same," she said, running my silken bra strap between her fingers. "I love this kind of bralette. It's so beautiful on you."

I could be a little self-conscious about my breasts, but all the women in my family were flat-chested, and keeping with that tradition made me feel closer to them.

Ginger's approving, hungry looks went a long way toward making me feel sexy.

I blushed as I shimmied out of the lacy bra, and then we stood there, both only in our underwear. Her smile softened as her eyes tracked down my body.

"You are… perfection," she said, her sincerity palpable.

I let out a relieved breath, dizzy from the way this day had turned everything on its head.

"I don't know if I can go full lady dick right now," she admitted, her eyes falling to my erection once again, "but I would like to make you feel good."

I rubbed my belly, uncertainty creeping in at the edges. "You do know that if I come, I'll…" I gestured an arc of ejaculation.

"I know." She smiled. "And the idea of seeing it? I like that very much."

"I'm not on HRT," I warned. "Which means we'll need to be careful because I could get you pregnant."

"Oh, good point—hadn't even considered that. I do have an IUD to regulate my period, so I'm not worried about a pregnancy." She tapped her chin. "And when I say that I can't do full lady dick right now, I just mean that if you want to introduce your lady dick to my flower, I'll probably need some baby steps in between."

Biting back a laugh, I sent her a glare instead. "You did not just call your vagina a flower."

She stuck out her tongue. "Are we getting naked or what?"

"Okay."

At my word, Ginger dipped her fingers below her waistline and tugged down the pretty white fabric. I did the same with my underwear, then clasped my hands in front of myself. She shook her head and gently tugged my hands away from each other.

"It's so pretty." She caressed the head appreciatively. "A perfectly elegant lady cock."

I gasped at the warmth of her fingertips. "I never thought to call it elegant."

She laughed, spreading the slick pearl of precum. "Fuck, you're so wet for me," she muttered, swiping her thumb back and forth as she brought her eyes up to mine.

"You have no idea what you do to me," I whispered, my voice hitching as her fingernail carefully probed my slit. "And if you keep doing that , I'm going to come all over you," I warned, wanting to keep it good for her.

She responded by going to her knees.

I looked down at her, incredulous. "What are you doing?" I asked, as though it weren't obvious. "You don't have to."

"I know," she said, nailing me with a smirk. "But because it's you, I want to." She kissed the head so, so delicately. "Pretty," she murmured. Then she took it in her mouth—her soft, perfect mouth—and sucked gently. My knees wobbled, and I panted, unable to believe how her careful sucking could so quickly drive me to the edge.

She smiled around my shaft, taking one final pull before leaning away. "Yeah, this is different," she said as she placed more pillowy-soft kisses to the crown. "This is so much better. Let's move to the bed."

We crawled under the duvet together and rolled toward each other, kissing. I could taste myself on her lips.

"You are so sexy," she murmured, teasing a peaked nipple with her tongue. "And I adore your tiny breasts."

Her encouragement was everything I'd ever needed, and I arched and whimpered as her tongue lashed over my skin. My brain finally caught up with the fact that she was the one in control. That made me feel so cared for, so… feminine . I could dress like Audrey Hepburn, do my makeup and hair, but nothing made me feel more like a woman than having another woman care for me physically.

Ginger kissed a hot path between my breasts and down my belly, then buried her nose in the sensitive skin of my inner groin. Next, she kissed a trail up my shaft and took the head into her mouth, swiping her tongue across the sensitive nerve endings like… Oh .

I stopped breathing. She was making the same sweeping motion I did when pleasuring a cis woman.

"I've never had someone treat it like a clit before," I admitted, emotions making my throat ache.

"But it feels good?" she asked, looking up from her position between my thighs.

"Yes," I whispered, then raised my head so I could meet her eyes. A tear streaked down my cheek as she continued to work me with her tongue. "Ginger, I'm going to?—"

She let me slip from her mouth, her thumb taking over the sweeping motion. I dropped my head back and closed my eyes, letting myself imagine a pussy, swollen and wet from her attention.

I'd once asked my therapist—also a trans woman—about the fact that I still imagined having typical "girl parts" even though I didn't want the surgery. She reassured me that whatever combination of inputs—clothing, hair, makeup, surgery, hormones, and, yes, imagination—got and kept me in a healthy headspace was valid.

So I let myself slide into a half-dream state. Completely present in my body, with a slight glamour thrown on top. I came with Ginger's thumb on my… my clit. The orgasm crashed into me, and pleasure spread through my body, from my core to my extremities.

I'd been so worried about this being good for Ginger that I hadn't considered how good it would be for me. Alone, I felt comfortable with myself. Adding other people to the mix, however, was always a question mark.

Ginger didn't make me feel like a woman in cosplay. I simply felt like a woman with her, though it wasn't simple at all.

It was everything I'd ever dreamed of.