Meeting Chris

Six months ago, I was out the door and off to meet my friends Alec and Drew, for a fundraiser night for the transgender-friendly food bank. Drew helped to start this food bank earlier in the year after a close friend of his, a member of the trans community, took her own life. The food bank was named in her honour. Drew had told me about the times Saja had been turned away from community food banks and soup kitchens because of her ambiguous gender presentation. He had wanted to found a food bank that did not have a religious agenda, and that would help people of all genders and sexual orientations.

I enjoyed my time volunteering at the food bank. It gave me a chance to check out some of the other sexy volunteers. I had my eye on a gorgeous trans man named Nat for a while. He looked delectable in his leather chaps and fitted shirt. His tanned skin and hazel eyes and toned arms were a very welcome distraction from sorting through produce.

During this time, I met Chris. Chris was genderfluid (male bodied) and had lovely long hair. She would come in for food, and I would always give her as many veggies as I could. We didn’t talk much in the food bank line, but later on she sent me a friend request on Facebook. I accepted.

The food bank fundraiser was held in an Italian restaurant downtown. Drew, Alec and I found a table and opened our menus. Chris walked in soon after, and I could not help but notice her. She was decked out en femme in a long flowing skirt, and her long reddish brown hair flowed past her shoulders. Her eyes were beautiful blue. She sat at our table and we all ordered drinks.

Money was tight for me since I had walked out of my last waitressing job. It was Drew who suggested I go into escorting. “You already like sex,” he said. “And you’d make more money with less grief.” I had tried escorting briefly the year before, but had given it up for that elusive promise of a loving, committed relationship. Now, as I contemplated a return to the business, that I had actually, for the most part, enjoyed, I gave up on the idea of finding that loving partner.

That night, at the fundraiser, I was not feeling sorry for myself. I was excited about my new job and (hopefully) financial independence. I was in one of those predatory moods, the kind where all the attractive people around me become this delicious feast for the eyes, and I think about biting everyone.

At one point in the conversation, Chris mentioned that she was thinking of shaving her head. “I’m balding anyway, why not embrace it?”

“Well,” I said. “If you shave your head, be sure to ask someone to lick your scalp, because that feels really good.” I had a shaved head as a teenager. I know these things.

Her eyes widened. “Did I hear you right?”

“Yes, yes you did,” I said.

“Jade has some exciting new career aspirations,” Drew said to Chris. “But I don’t know how comfortable she will be discussing them tonight.”

The night went on, and our food and drinks arrived. I had a small veggie pizza and some red wine. It was ok to splurge, after all. Soon, I would be working, and making much better money than I made slaving away in the Greek restaurant.

I excused myself and went to the ladies room. When I came back, Chris complimented me on my dress. I was wearing a short, tight black knit with a small, silver chain belt and hoop earrings. I felt super sexy.

“So, Jade, what is it that you do?” Asked Chris.

I decided to start small. “Well, I have worked in harm reduction and sexual health education for quite a few years,” I said. “And I really would like to continue that work, only I would like to work with people around their sexuality, and teach about pleasure as well as how to prevent the spread of STIs. I would like to go to school eventually and study Sexology, and maybe Sexological Bodywork. There is this great school in San Francisco where my heroes Annie Sprinkle, Betty Dodson and Joseph Kramer all studied.”

“That’s really great. I’m interested in the same sort of things. I’m a counsellor, and a trained social worker, and I have a lot of experience in the LGBT community, helping people with their sexual issues. I’m going to school in Kamloops soon, getting my Master’s of Education.”

We talked a while longer about school and sex-positivity and sexual healing. After a while, I decided to tell her the whole truth.

“I am going to be funding my education by escorting. I have decided that I can do it in a way that is respectful to myself and my clients, and I think I have a knack for it.”

“Wow, good for you,” she said. “I had sex for money once, and it was a pretty good experience. You have a safety plan and everything?”

I nodded. “Yes, and I have a martial arts background.”

“You seem like a really strong person. I think you’ll do well.”

I smiled. “Thanks. I guess it’ll make it harder for me to date. I mean, I have a few casual fuck buddies right now, and I don’t know if I should tell them or not.”

“I’d be fine with it,” Chris said. “But I would prefer to know about it. But I’m into open relationships anyway, so it’s not a big stretch for me.”

I smiled. “Good to know.”

It was really nice to talk to someone as warm, open and on my wavelength as Chris. The conversation turned to sexual orientation.

“I used to call myself bisexual,” I said. “But I don’t think that really describes me, because bi implies only two genders, and I have dated trans people before, so I think pansexual is a better term for me.”

“Yes, I think that’s the best way to describe my orientation too. I mean, I am more often attracted to feminine characteristics, but I am attracted to men sometimes.”

“One combination I really like are people with male bodies who dress in women’s clothes. I don’t know why, but that combination is really sexy to me.”

Chris smiled.

“And I’m serious about getting someone to lick your head,” I continued. “I had a shaved head as a teenager, and when my boyfriend licked my head, it was such a wonderful experience.”

“Well, all I need is to find someone who is willing to lick my head.”

“I’ll do it,” I said.

Chris laughed a bit, a cute, nervous laugh. “You will, huh?”

“Sure, why not?”

A little later in the night, she asked me another question. “So, Jade, you said you are attracted to people with male bodies who wear women’s clothes? What do you think of me?”

“I think you’re cute.”

“Oh? Well, I think you’re really cute too.”

At that point, looking into those deep blue eyes, the only thing that made sense was to grab her and give her a kiss. It was a fantastic first kiss, the kind where the room melts away and all that exists in the whole world is you, the other person, and the warming embers in your body.

We separated awkwardly, glancing at Alec, who had been sitting across from us at the table the whole time. “Sorry,” we mumbled.

He shrugged. “No worries.”

Drew came back to the table. “I knew you two would get along,” he said. “Are you two going home together?”

“Well, we haven’t discussed it,” I said.

“It’s up to you,” said Chris. “But I’m game if you are.”

I ran through the checklist for spontaneously bringing someone home. My house was a mess. I have many skills, and housekeeping is one that does not come naturally. I had changed my sheets recently. This person was sexy, kind, and intriguing.

“I’d love it if you came over, but I warn you, I wasn’t expecting company and my place is a mess. If that’s ok with you, then great!”

“That’s ok,” she said.

The four of us left the restaurant and made our way to the bus. Drew, Alec and I are all East Vancouver queers. At the time, I was still living above the Greek restaurant I used to work at, before I entered into a disasterous romance with my much older widower boss, but that’s a story for another post. Drew and Alec lived across the alley from me, which was very convenient for socializing.

We found seats at the back of the bus. I held Chris’ hand. We got off the bus and said our goodnights. Then, I led Chris into my ghetto apartment.

My apartment above the Greek restaurant was big and cheap. And it was cheap for good reason. It was in a very old building. So old, in fact, that the owner was selling it to a land developer. But it was my own apartment and I was quite proud of it all the same. Even with the weird mold growing under the burners on the stove. Even with the creepy shower, which I affectionately dubbed my ‘Turkish Prison Shower.’ It was an exposed rusty pipe with no shower head (the shower head had fallen off, on me, while I was getting ready for work a few months before. It sprayed dirty, rusty water all over me in the process and gave me a bit of a bump on my head.) The base of the shower was on rotting wood. It was an icky place to get naked, although I know from experience that two people could fit in my Turkish Prison Shower, because resourceful gal that I am, I have had sex in it.

Chris was very kind about the state of the place, and didn’t judge me based on the fact that I hadn’t done dishes in a few days and that my clothes were strewn all over the place. I made a pot of tea and we sat in the kitchen and talked for a while. It turns out we had a lot more in common than the idea of sex being sacred and the fact that we were both members of the LGBT community. Chris had been involved in a Star Trek club and was a quintessential sci fi geek, like me.

Soon enough, the topic turned to sex. “I practice Tantric semen retention,” she told me. “So when we’re having sex, I will pull out for a little bit if I’m about to ejaculate, because this practice is a bit new to me.” I smiled, thinking that I really lucked out with this one. Genderfluid AND staying power. “Is there anything that you don’t want me to do?” She asked.

“No choking,” I said. “And I don’t like anything in my ass. Bad experiences.”

“Ok.”

That was the point where we started kissing again. We moved to the bedroom and I helped her out of her clothes. She was wearing a nice purple bra with black lace, which looked fabulous on her athletic, swimmer’s body. I shed my clothes in a hurry. We kissed naked, the embers under my skin warming at her touch. Her skin felt so new and yet familiar in a way that caused me to feel excited and relaxed at the same time.

She, unlike my first transsexual lover, truly enjoyed her body, which I found exciting and refreshing. She kissed down the line of my body all the way to my feet, where she spent time sucking my toes. I enjoyed, but felt a bit nervous because my feet had been encased in boots and tights all day, but I told myself that she wouldn’t be doing it if she wasn’t liking it, and that helped get me into it.

She was amazing at eating pussy, which is a valuable skill when it comes to going to bed with me. I sucked her cock, swirling my tongue around the head and down the shaft. She had a pleasant salty sweet taste, and my pussy throbbed as I watched her react to my lips around her cock.

We fucked for the next few hours in various positions, and fell asleep in each other’s arms.

The next day, I awoke with her in my arms. I kissed the top of her head. It felt really good to hold her. There was a sort of familiarity, as if I had known her longer than I had. We had breakfast together and exchanged phone numbers. I was struck by how easy it had been for me to find a like-minded lover mere moments after I had disqualified myself from finding love because of my impending life of professional sex. This was the beginning of a very special and significant relationship.

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