A Slut's Triangle Pt. 03

Kimberly is gorgeous and I doubt that she's much more than a couple years younger than me. It's her really beautiful, long and wavy, brunette hair draping over her shoulders that catches my attention, but not like her bright, blue eyes. The tight, blue jeans she's wearing doesn't leave much to my imagination. The same could also be said about the sweater covering her breasts.

My palms are sweating and my mouth is dry. Strangely, I feel an attraction to her. I quickly nip the feelings in the bud with my self-defeating attitude, reminding myself women aren't interested in guys who dress up like a woman.

Anyway, I'm party the one to blame with my warped way of thinking. It influenced me when I was vulnerable and shaped me into who I am today. Ultimately, I use it to justify to myself why I sleep with guys, the ones who show any kind of interest in me. However, guys like Kryss exacerbate it, knowing how difficult it is for me to find a woman to accept me as a transvestite.

"You must be expecting a text from your boyfriend," I remark, not really expecting much of a conversation.

My question catches Kimberly off guard. I'm not sure if she's expecting me to speak to her. Maybe she's hoping that I won't. I'm terrible at reading people and what's all going through their head. Nonetheless, I'm not invisible to her anymore.

"I am," she replies, spinning her barstool around to face me - the look in her eyes tells me just about everything I need to know, "but I doubt it's going to happen."

"Don't worry," I reply, hiding my face behind the glass as I sip on my mixed drink. "I get that kind of reaction all the time."

"I'm sorry," she apologizes, waving her hand to flag down Brenda, "it's just hard for me to match the voice to such a pretty face."

"My voice tends to give me away," I add, sitting my drink on the bar counter.

"Well, this is - uh - a first time for me," she stutters, crossing her legs lady-like, "so it's a little awkward."

"I'm Ashleigh," I introduce, extending my hand in friendship.

"Kimberly," she replies, shaking my hand, slowly retracting it.

"What can I get you, Kimberly?" Brenda asks, cutting her eyes over at me with a puzzled look on her face.

"I'll have - uh - a Long Island iced tea," she requests, tapping her index finger on the bar, "with extra lemon, please."

When Brenda darts away to mix her drink, an awkward moment of silence settles between us. Minutes later, Brenda returns with the drink and slides it across the bar to Kimberly. Then, she glances at me again with the same puzzled look and darts again without even saying a word. Brenda might be too busy to socialize with us for a minute, but I doubt it. I know her all too well - and I feel like I'm swimming in shark infested waters.

"You're pretty good at reading people," Kimberly begins, fixating her eyes on me as soon as Brenda disappears. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

"Somewhat," I admit, shyly looking away, "but he doesn't act like it when he's with me."

"I know the feeling," she relates, retrieving a cigarette from her purse and lighting it.

"Hahaha........Yeah, well," I reply, chuckling as I dig a cigarette from my purse out of subconscious habit, "I'm probably the only guy in here having guy troubles though."

"Oh, my God!" she blurts, nearly spitting her drink out of her mouth, sitting the glass on the bar; giggling. "You crack me up."

"I'm guessing that you're having problems with your boyfriend as well?" I ask, lighting my cigarette.

I'm assuming a lot, but it appears that Kimberly isn't uncomfortable talking about guy issues with me. Her willingness to talk to me perks my interest in her that much more. To me, she seems like she's just as open minded and understanding much like Brenda is.

"You don't know the half of it," she admits, propping her head on the bar with her hand, studying me as she puffs away on her cigarette.

"We could compare notes on boyfriends," I jest, flicking the ashes off my cigarette.

"Hahaha...... Compare notes - now, that's funny as Hell," she replies, blowing a huge cloud of smoke into the air." I've never heard it put like that."

"Well, I don't know how else to say it," I reply, glancing at the clock on the wall.

Our conversation is interesting to say the least. Thankfully, Brenda is on top of things, keeping our drinks topped off. One thing is certain, Kimberly has a better tolerance for alcohol than I do. I, on the other hand, am not putting much thought into what I'm babbling about.

"Does your boyfriend object to what you do in bed?" I ask, letting the alcohol speak for me.

"Oh, he objects," she elaborates, sipping on her drink, "but not like when I don't do what he wants in bed. Guys get bored with a woman when they know all of her tricks."

"Yeah, but if a guy don't get what he wants in bed," I explain, sitting my drink on the bar, "he's tempted to look elsewhere to fill those needs."

"That's an interesting point," she replies, uncrossing and recrossing her legs for a more sophisticated posture.

"The key word is 'tempted'," I stress, putting my half-smoked cigarette out in the ashtray, taking my eyes off her. "because it brings trust issues into play."

"Are you gay or bisexual?" she asks, changing the subject.

"I'm gay, but - " I begin before Kimberly interrupts me.

"I sorry. I didn't mean to offend you," she apologizes, taking the last draw off her cigarette.

"You not offending me," I answer, looking at the clock on the wall again. "I'm gay, but I have been married before."

Thankfully, I don't have to go into great detail and explain to her about me being a gay transvestite. I'm sure she knows that I assume a woman's sexual role in bed. At least, I hope she does since she's chatting with me as if I were just another woman.

"Do you think my boyfriend would cheat on me if I don't give him what he wants in bed?" she asks, snuffing her cigarette out.

"Hahaha... Guys that hit on me are looking for something, "I elaborate, pushing my empty glass to the side, feeling tipsy, "but I don't think they're looking to cheat so much as they're looking to explore their fantasies."

Strangely, I'm having a great time chatting with Kimberly, better than I expected. The hours fly by as we drink, laugh and cut up with each other, sharing and trading secrets with each other about dealing with guys.

I learn a lot about Kimberly's relationship goals, her wants and needs; her desires since she ran away from home when she was seventeen and has been in several relationships. We have a lot in common in terms of our relationship goals, and in no time, she has me second guessing my relationship with Kryss. Again, I dismiss my attraction to her fearful of rejection.

"Would things be different with your boyfriend if you were a woman?" she asks, lighting another cigarette.

"That thought has crossed my mind on several occasions," I admit, feeling the effects of my alcohol, "but with my luck, if I had a pussy, I'd probably be a lesbian."

"Why do you stay with your boyfriend?" she pries, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

"Honestly, I don't really know," I elaborate, leaning against the bar to steady myself. "I'm used to guys treating me like a fuck toy when they want something."

"I'm not about to let my boyfriend fuck me in the ass - no thank you," she remarks, flicking the ashes from her cigarette.

"Hahaha. ...... It's definitely an acquired feeling," I reply, glancing over my shoulder to see if Tommie or Derek have arrived.

"Well, I'm pretty sure that you don't expect your boyfriend to suck your dick," she adds, taking a long draw off her cigarette.

"He won't suck my dick," I reply, glancing at the clock on the wall again, "not that I would want him to either."

"Ah, but would you let a woman suck your dick?" she asks, crushing out her cigarette and digging her iPhone from her purse.

"I highly doubt any woman is going to want to suck on a Vienna sausage-sized dick," I jest, poking fun at my manhood.

"Hahaha..... Vienna sausage?" she bursts out laughing, dropping her iPhone back into her purse. "I'll let you in on a little secret."

"Oh, God, did I miss something?" I inquire, crossing my legs lady-like and raking my hair from my eyes, not to be flirtatious - just to be more attentive.

"Kind of, sort of. Most women aren't really infatuated with the size of a guy's dick," she explains, resting her hand on my shoulder. "We're attracted to the man."

Kimberly's remark has my mind churning, evaluating my relationship with Kryss again. I'm infatuated with his beautiful, sexy cock. I mean, I love him and all, but not like I love his cock - the way it feels buried deep in my ass.

Our conversation is suddenly interrupted by Kimberly's iPhone chiming the sound of an incoming text. Digging it from her purse, she silently reads the text. A couple more texts soon follow. A look of disgust on her face tells me that she isn't going to bother replying. After stuffing her phone in her purse, she finishes her last drink and pushes the empty glass across the bar.

"Why would anyone stay with someone that doesn't return the love they give them?" she mumbles, standing up from the bar and slinging her purse over her shoulder.

"That's a really good question," I reply as she lays more than enough money on the bar to cover her tab. "I wish that I had the answer."

"I don't have the answer either," she remarks, concluding our conversation as she turns away to head to the door. "I need to get going."

"It was nice chatting with you," I reply, bidding farewell and following her to the door with my tipsy eyes.

For a brief moment, I think about getting up and walking Kimberly out to her car. Instead, I keep my ass planted in my bar stool. There's no way I'm sober enough to drive and it's already late. I'm thankful the crowd has at least thinned out at the bar. After Kimberly walks out the door, Brenda approaches me.

"So, did you get her phone number?" Brenda teases, clearing away our empty drinking glasses.

"Uh - no," I reply, digging my phone from my purse.

"And, why not?" she asks, studying my reactions.

"She has a boyfriend," I reply, leaning up against the bar, laughing.

"Well, it looked like you were trying to score some pussy from her," she teases again, staring into my blood shot eyes.

"I seriously doubt any woman is going to be interested in a gay transvestite," I reply, digging around in my purse for money to cover my drinking tab.

"Don't worry about your tab," she says, wiping down the bar. "I'll take care of it."

"Thanks, girlfriend," I reply, pulling my hand from my purse. "I owe you."

"You don't owe me anything," she remarks, propping her elbows on the bar. "So what are you going to do now?"

"I'm not doing anything until I sober up enough to drive," I answer, looking around the bar for Tommie and Derek.

"And then what?" she pries, tapping her long fingernails on the bar.

I'm obviously too tipsy to understand what kind of answer Brenda is fishing for from me. Maybe she's wanting me to spill the beans on my conversation with Kimberly. I don't really know.

"I'll probably ride over to Kryss' place," I sigh, looking at the clock on the wall again, daydreaming, "and see if he's in a better mood - maybe he'll let me suck his dick."

"Hahaha.......A cock slut with an agenda," Brenda teases, pouring me a Coke and sitting it in front of me."