Sunday, November 17
This was the week that shouldn't have been. Due to the weirdness of the calendar, Thanksgiving break was still like two-ish weeks away, and everyone was bored and needing a break. How'd Greenday put it, `when masturbation's lost it's fun.' Yeah, that kinda funk.
Last Sunday morning was just cleanup and go home from Brie's. Her mom, who had no clue how much porn we'd been watching and how much debauchery..... anyway....
Monday, I apologized to Carlos for blowing him off (pun intended) over the weekend, but explained that there was a real crisis among my girlfriends. He was amazingly understanding and I promised I'd make it up to him this coming weekend. I gave him a wink, and I'm pretty sure he understood what I meant.
Monday afternoon, Doc Strange and I had our regular biweekly soirée. I explained to him my life seemed to be in a rut. He asked why, and I told him that maybe it was seasonal and happening to everyone, but I felt comfortable in girl mode now but not really challenged by it. My cis--girlfriends were all going thru various growing-up crises, like periods and boyfriends and sexual awakening, and they accepted me just fine, but I almost felt like I was cheating and getting away easy. I had a boyfriend, and my school accepted me, and my little circle of friends were all accepting, and while some of the parents didn't quite know what to think, everyone was kinda playing along.
I told him all about the sleep-over and Maddy's sexual awakening, and how the rest of the girls just accepted me as one of the sisters and no one gave the slightest thought to me being pre-op trans.
He was taking a lot of notes at this point, and said, "Christy, I want to call your mother in right now. I think we have some things to discuss."
With that he buzzed the receptionist to send Mom in. When she got seated, he said, "Ms Dancer, your daughter is making great progress physically, but I'm afraid she may be... being... coddled? Yes. Coddled."
Mom was obviously struck by what he said, and after a moment, replied. "I don't think she's being coddled. Yes, I try to make a comfortable environment for her and that includes her transition, but what do you mean?"
"I mean," he said, "that there is a real world out there where Christy won't be as well accepted as she is at a fairly liberal school with liberal, understanding friends and family. In a few years, she may have after-school jobs and perhaps will be going off to college or traveling on her own. Can you guarantee she will be prepared to face a world that may not be as accepting?"
Mom thought about that for a moment and said, "So, what can I do beyond what I'm already doing?"
"I have two ideas," he said. "First, are you a member of any sort of religious group or church?"
"Yes," Mom replied, "I hate to admit this, but since my husband died a few years back, we've sorta fallen by the wayside. I guess we're still on the roster, but it's been so long, I wouldn't know what to say."
"Is it a fairly conservative or relatively liberal congregation?"
"We're Episcopalian, and the church in general has been fairly accepting of LGBT issues. As for our specific congregation, it's been so long, I don't even know who the priest is and what his or her stand on this might be."
"Make an appointment. You and Christy need to go in and have a chat. I'm not trying to force you into a religious conversion, but this could be one good way to get Christy out into the real world. Second, what are your plans over the holidays?"
"Not much. I mean, we have a family dinner for Thanksgiving, probably with a few friends. Maybe like 5 or so, more or less. I get invited to a fair number of formal fundraising galas over the Christmas holidays, and I used to love to go to those things, but the past few years, I've kinda dropped out of that. I do miss it, though."
"Would Christy be welcomed as you're `plus one' at any of those?"
"Oh, more than that. I could take an actual `plus one' to some of these and also have Christy along, if she wanted to go."
Dr. Strange thought about it for a moment and said, "Oh, I think she wants to go, whether she admits it or not. She needs to get out of her comfort zone and `present' as a young woman in other venues. See what you can do in that direction, and let me know."
I was of course watching all of this like an innocent bystander about to get hit by a truck. Yes, I wanted to get out of my comfort zone a bit, but I was about to get tossed off the side of some cliffs, without having anything to say about it.
Mom looked at me and said, "Plus, Christy, you get to shop for new clothes!"
I wasn't sure that was a trade off for getting shoved so quickly out of my comfort zone, but yeah... there's that.
So I thought Tuesday was going fine, until drama club, when I learned that hardly anyone was taking all of this seriously and maybe I was the only one in the whole club who had her lines memorized. (Out of fairness, I hardly had any lines at all.). Apparently, the week after Thanksgiving we're going to start stage rehearsals with preliminary sets, and dress rehearsal is the week after. Wow... What did Woody Allen say? Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana. Or was that Groucho Marx?
Mom picked me up after school and said, "I talked with Father Dave over at the church."
"What church, and who is Father Dave?"
"St Margaret's, where you were Christened and went thru confirmation when you were 12, that St. Margarets. Forgot it all ready?"
"Oh, yeah, are we still members there?"
"Well, officially, yeah, but we haven't been in a long time, and so anyway, Father Dave is the new rector, and he wants to see us tomorrow afternoon."
"Us? As in `you and me' us?"
Yes. We're going to start going back to church, and you and I are going to start going back to Sunday School, and that's that."
"Ahhh.... That all happens on a Sunday Morning, right? I mean, that's when I usually like to hang out in my jammies and eat waffles."
"You can make it. Nine-thirty church service, and Sunday school right afterwards."
"Ahhhh... Mom... I mean... how do they... I'm .... ". I couldn't quite get the `t' word out, but I had a huge fear of what this was going to entail."
"That's what we're going to talk with Father Dave."
With that, we headed straight for Nordstrom's and looked to see what junior girls were wearing to Sunday School lately. Apparently, a nice plum long-sleeve dress with a high waist and a hemline a few inches above the knee, matched with a plum and ivory tartan scarf and black calf boots met the description. Just so I didn't have to come back again next week, a similar tan dress, with a similar scarf (brown and ivory) and brown boots also seemed to meet Mom's approval.
On Wednesday afternoon, we drove to St. Margarets. Sure, I'd been Christened there and had gone to kids Sunday School and confirmation classes and all that, but it seemed like a hundred years ago. Plus, Father Jim had been here when I was coming along, and now we had Father Dave, who I didn't know at all (and neither did Mom). I barely recognized the place. We were greeted nicely by the receptionist/secretary, an older lady who I vaguely recognized. She said Father Dave was expecting us, but he couldn't get off the phone yet and asked us if we wanted some water or tea while we waited. Mom said no, and we sat in some terrifically comfie chairs for just a few minutes.
Finally, Father Dave came out of his office with a huge smile. He was a short man, not much taller than me, and maybe in his 50's or so, but had a tremendous amount of energy and was full of apologies for keeping us waiting. We're came into his office, and rather than him sitting behind a desk, all formal like, we sat on a big sofa and he sat in a chair across from a coffee table, very informally.
He started the conversation. "So, Ms. Dancer, I understand you've been a parishioner here for a long time, and I'm sorry to see you were widowed a number of years ago. Your late husband was also a parishioner here, right?"
"Yes, that's all correct."
"Well, I'm terrifically sorry I've not yet met you, and we haven't seen you arond here for a while. Are you thinking about becoming active again?"
"Yes, that's sort of why we're here."
"I looked on the books and I understand you have two children, Rebecca and Christopher, is that still correct?"
Mom smiled, and said, "well, Father, that's not exactly correct anymore. Becca is off at college, and..." she nodded my way and said, "this is my 14 year old daughter, Christine. She goes by Christy."
Father Dave didn't break a smile. He just nodded and turned to me and said, "Christy, you were Christened and confirmed here, right?"
I just nodded.
"Well, our church -- your church - believes in inclusion. Last year, our national governing authority passed resolutions in support of transgender inclusiveness, and we have a long-standing policy of inclusiveness on the basis of sexual orientation. You, Christine, were Christened into this church, and the fact that your name and gender identity has changed is of no import in the eyes of God. Now, I'll admit that St. Margarets may be a little on the conservative side as Episcopal parishes go, but we have more than a few parishioners who identify as gay, including some of our younger folks. How you choose to present yourself in church, or Sunday School, or any of our other programs, is totally your business."
I felt a wave of relief. I finally spoke up, "My gender therapist wants me to get out' in public more. That doesn't mean I'm going to show up Sunday morning with a big ole sign around my neck saying Christy the tranny' or something like that. In fact, as far as I'm concerned, I'm just a girl named Christy who's sitting in the pew next to her Mom."
"Well," he said, "I suspect no one will say a word. We want this to be a safe and inclusive place, and you're welcomed here."
Mom spoke up and said, "So, how does this work? Do we have to rejoin or...."
Father Dave just shook his head and said, "No. Just show up. Church services are at 9:30 and 11:30, with church school in between. As you may remember, we're closing in on Advent, so there are a lot of things happening around here. We look forward to seeing you."
With that, Mom stood up and Father Dave hopped up with her. Mom and Father Dave shook hands and he said, "Peace be with you."
It took a second for her to reply, and then lizard memory took over and she said, "And also with you."
With that, Father Dave smiled his biggest smile yet and said, "We're so glad you're coming back to join us. You're going to find a great community here." Then he turned to me, stretched out his arms to hug me, which I found both weird and comforting at the same time, and he continued, "And Christy, you're absolutely going to be welcomed here. I promise."
When we got in the car, I turned to remind Mom, "You know, there's a pretty good chance some of those kids in this church will remember me in `boy' mode. I used to attend church school here, and went thru confirmation class here, and while I never really stood out, I can't help but think I'm going to be remembered as a boy."
"How many of the kids do you remember?"
"Not many. A couple of the more popular ones, you know how that works."
"Yeah, I do. Mainly, when you were here, you kinda faded into the wallpaper. I hate to say that, but it's one of the many things that gave me a clue that you weren't happy with yourself. Now, look at you. You're becoming a young woman, you have friends, and you're brimming with self confidence. I think you're going to do more than just fine here, I think you're going to rock this place."
"You think?"
"I know."
Becca called on Thursday. Mom told her I was continuing to raid her old clothes pile, which Becca thought was great and she said she could hardly wait to get home and play dress up with her baby sister. I shuddered to think...
Friday, 4th period, I told Mr. MacCarthy that I'd be skipping drama club lunch again because I had an `emergency' meeting to follow up on the Halloween carnival booth. That was pure bullshit but he bought it because, well, I have my lines down pat and no one else seems to.
Hey. Off the wall trivia. My iPad autocorrects bullshit' to balls hit'. Huh...
I had been so wound up in my personal stuff for the last week, I hadn't been paying much attention to my sister wives, a factoid Brie was more than happy to bring to my attention. She called an emergency lunch meeting to follow-up on the prior weekend's film festival. We all gathered at our normal table, and gobbled down on various and sundry sandwiches and cups of yoghurt.
Maddy continued to have a new gleam in her eye and a smile on her face. Apparently, the `self care' idea had not only taken hold for her but was proving to be habit forming. Good for her!
Brie opened the `meeting' by asking, "Did anyone learn anything last Saturday?"
That's when all of the serious faces turned to uncontrolled giggles. Randi was the first one to speak up. "Yeah, I learned we're all supposed to get waxed at some point." That was the point when everyone's giggles turned to outright laughter.
Emma-red joined in, "I'm trying to imagine what would happen if I told my Mom I was getting waxed down there."
Brie said, "tell her it's to make you a faster swimmer." I thought Emma Brunette was going to fall on the ground.
We didn't want Maddy to feel singled out, so no one said anything until she spoke out. She was half giggling, half crying and said, "Girls, you really are my sisters, my family. I can't tell you how much you opened my eyes, and I'm finally, quietly reading about sex and trying to un-learn all the...."
Emma-red started singing Paul Simon, "when I think back on all the crap I learned in high school...". Spontaneously, everyone started hugging Maddy and hugging each other and crying a little bit and laughing.
When it all calmed down, I said, "My therapist wants me to get `out there' more often, outside of my comfort zone. Mom and I are going to start going back to church on Sunday, so I'll report to you Monday whether I get accepted or burned at the stake."
"Oh, Oh, Oh," yelled Randi, "no one expects the Spanish Inquisition."
"Do people still watch Monty Python????" Brie yelled.
"Apparently yes," I said, "and I'm Episcopalian, so it would be an English inquisition, but same difference."
The whole mess broke up with more hugs and more giggling. I'm sure everyone around us thought we were nuts, but they were probably used to that from us.
Friday was a normal, boring Friday, and Saturday night, Carlos came over for Netflix and Chill. I was starting to think about how I thought about him. Did I really like him, or did I like the idea of liking him?
Anyway, he came over and it was comfortable, if not really sexy. I really do enjoy his company and companionship, and yes, the sex is comfortable if not mind blowing. Mom was gone out for the evening, so I was in my satiny jammie shorts and cami top. I had been binge-watching the first two seasons of The Crown in anticipation of Netflix dropping season 3, so Carlos was sweet and put up with me watching the last couple of episodes and acting like he was actually interested. After the final episode, he turned on The Matrix which I know he'd already seen a half dozen times, and I could care less about, so not surprisingly, we started making out pretty quickly.
Call it a pattern or a rut, but we make out, and I really get into it, and even though I say I might want to tease him, my hand just naturally reaches to his crotch. I don't even realize it until my hand is massaging his cock. Of course, he's not putting up much of a fight. Before long, he nudges my head toward his cock, and I'm once again hungrily bobbing on his shaft.
I was laying on the sofa, focused on the very real pleasure in my mouth, and I vaguely felt his hand running down into the back of my jammie shorts. No surprise there -- he'd already spanked me back there, and he knew I enjoyed that attention. However, this time, he started playing inside my butt crack, and I really liked the attention. His fingers pulled apart my butt cheeks, and I could feel one of his fingers tickling my butt hole. It sorta... tickled? It felt really good - a lot better than I would have imagined, and it felt dirty all at the same time. His finger (middle finger?) wiggled against my little pucker, and I relaxed and let him poke in just a bit.
The erotic sense of his finger combined with his cock in my mouth was almost more than I could take. He finally came in my mouth, and I held him, gently suckling like a baby waiting for him to go soft, but mainly enjoying his finger probing my little puckered ass. Then, something really amazing happened -- rather than get soft, he was getting hard again! My jaws were a bit sore, but it was a good sore, and the small part of my brain that was still conscious wondered how many times a man could rise to a repeat performance.
In this case, he continued to finger me with one hand, and then with the other put his fingers in my hair and literally began hard-fucking my face. It was a little brutal, but I was loving it! His cock was jabbing the back of my throat, and I wondered if I could actually do a `deep throat' like I'd seen in some porn videos. I never got to find out, though, because after a minute or so, he slowed down, relaxed his grip on my hair, and collapsed backwards on the sofa in a fit of exhaustion.
I kept his softened cock in my mouth, a pose I'd seen referred to as `cockwarming' and just laid my head back against his lower belly. He stroked my hair, lovingly, and after a bit, said, "I hope I didn't scare you or hurt you."
I waited a bit, and then took his cock out of my mouth with my hand, and mumbled, "No. That was wonderful. I'm just adding it to my repertoire."
He chuckled at that, and I sat up next to him on the sofa, laying my sweat-soaked head on his shoulder. We just sat there, his arm around me, cuddling like that, and paying no attention to the Matrix.
Sigh... that night, I not only thought about him as I finally let myself get some release in bed, but also dreamed about him all night.
This morning, I woke up a mess. I wanted Carlos in my bed, an wanted to be able to lay with him all day, but that wasn't to be. Breakfast was some quick scrambled eggs and toast, and in a flash I was dressed in my new `Sunday Finest' and off to my first church service since... I dunno.. right after I turned 12, I guess. It was a blur.
We got there, and the liturgy and stuff all came back to me. When to kneel, when to sing, when and how to go up front for communion. A couple of the kids my age looked slightly familiar, but nothing I was surprised about.
After services, there was church school. High schoolers all went to one big thingie, and the youth minister and a couple of other young adults were in charge. The youth minister was a big bear-looking guy, with a big beard and long-ish hair and while he wore a clerical collar, he was the least priest' looking fellow I think I'd ever seen. His name was Bernie. Father Bernie. I'm not kidding. I got to the big youth center (it was actually an old house near the back of the church -- turns out I remembered the landscape better than I thought I would and Father Bernie and his deputies' were greeting everyone at the door. He took my hand to shake it with his big huge island-sized front paws and smiled like he knew I was coming.
"Christy, right?"
"Yeah. How'd you know?"
"Father Dave told me you were coming."
"Warned you, eh?"
Father Bernie just laughed, and said, "Christy, this is a safe space...."
"Yeah, yeah, inclusive' and welcoming'. Thanks. Look, I don't mean to sound jaded, but I'm just a little bit on edge, if you get my drift."
"I get your drift, Christy. Look, you won't be the only LGBT kid here, although maybe the only `T'. I don't keep count. C'mon in, have some lemonade and cookies to wash down the communion wine, and find a place to sit."
"Yeah, but hey, don't make a big deal of me, OK?"
"I'll introduce you at the right time, but that's it. Otherwise, you can be a fly on the wall or the center of attention. That's your choice."
"Deal."
I found a comfie sofa and tried to blend into the fabric. That dream lasted about 30 seconds. The most bubbly girl I'd ever seen bounced down on the sofa next to me. I instantly nicknamed her "Susie Sunshine" in my head, but she stuck out her hand and said, "Brenda!" Yes, with an exclamation point. I could hear it.
I reciprocated in my best imitation of Natasha Lyonne, "Christy".
"Are you just visiting or are you new here?"
"Actually kinda neither." I decided on the spur that honesty might be the best offense in this situation. "We used to go here but kinda dropped out but now we're coming back."
"Oh, yeah, great!" She seemed to punctuate ever sentence with an exclamation point. "Well, it's great to have you back, and I'm sorry I don't recognize you."
"Yeah, that's cool. I look a LOT different now. You know, grew my hair, makeup. Stuff."
"Oh yeah. I know. Look at Robbie over there." And she pointed to this guy across the room who appeared to be the most poplar boy on the planet. "He's a senior. He's always been a cutie, but he used to be like really chubbie and then over the summer he just went in the gym every day and then went hiking in the southwest and lost like 100 pounds and now like look at him."
I had to admit Robbie was pretty hot looking, but I just nodded and said, "Yeah."
"Well, anyway, I gotta go, Christy! Glad you are joining us!"
Whew. Nice girl, but all of the energy of a beagle.
Which is when Robbie the Hottie came over and stood in front of me and said, "Why don't I know you?" in the most charming way possible.
"Yeah, I'm Christy."
"Robbie. Saw you talking to Brenda. She's a bundle of energy. You ought to see her on our annal ski trip. Melts snow with her energy vibes."
I had to laugh. "Yeah. Figured that out."
"Anyway, Father Bernie is cool. Tell him anything. He's a master fixer. Hey, I gotta go. Promised someone I'd acolyte at 11:30."
With that, he turned and left, and I had most in-church-like thoughts about him as he trotted away. Nice guy, but had the persona of someone who wore board shorts winter and summer.
So `church school' seemed to be a lot of hanging out. After a while, Father Bernie came in and got everyone's attention and said, "How many of you paid attention to Father Dave's sermon?" A few of the more enthusiastic hands went up. He said, "wow, that's something of a record. I think some of you are violating the 8th commandment."
Someone in the corner yelled, "It's only false witness if it's against your neighbor."
Father Bernie looked over at him and said, "you really want to split hairs with me, dude? OK. What was the theme of Father Dave's sermon?"
With that, everyone started laughing their asses off. When the noise calmed down, Bernie started talking about the sermon and the implications for teenage life. It was kinda cool. Not terribly meaningful, but cool. Intellectually relaxing. Plus, there was lemonade and cookies.
Bernie then said something about the coming Christmas pageant and how the teens of the church would be expected to help set up and tear down and usher and a sign-up sheet would go up next week. Then he mumbled something about a ski trip in January, and I phased out.
On the drive home, Mom asked how I liked it. I said "I've spent worse days." She said, "Good. We're going back next week."
"Mom, apparently they also have a youth group that gets together and meets on Sunday nights. Maybe next week I could look into that?"
Mom smiled.