A Work In Progress

Chapter Twenty: An Intimate Moment

We talked for several hours, sharing another couple of glasses of scotch. We commiserated, we complained, we shared and we cried. I could not believe how great this was! I mean I was not happy for Mari, but to be able to just share your feelings and not have to find a solution was liberating. I could not even understand why as a man I could not do this, just sit and share. Even when men did talk about our feelings, it ended up in a contest. It was starting to strike me now that as a man, like other men, I had mistaken the quantity of competition for the quality. Mari and I might compete for promotions or accounts from time to time but that was about doing the job and we did not carry that competition into who had a better car or personal life. Sure we were catty that night about the women we didn’t like in the office, and sometimes we were catty to them in the office but this level of sharing, this deep connection. Mari knew what she needed to do and we talked about all the other things around the affair her macho husband was having. It would mean he would give her anything she wanted if he had to risk the truth coming out.

In all the talk and worry over Mari and her situation, I had forgotten about the other reason I liked the coveralls. I usually used to hide the fact that I was not wearing a bra. It was not the most comfortable thing to go without a bra, but it was so much better than wearing one. Normally, I wore a tee shirt of some sort to cover additionally, but tonight I had been painting and had not wanted to ruin, yet another tee shirt. We were both getting tired and talking softly now and I was once more stroking Mari’s hair. I should have done more things like that when I was a man, but all I had been concerned with were the things I had to do to get a woman, naked, wet, and ready for sex. Now that I knew how good it felt, it did me no good. Some of what kept my hopes up for getting back to myself was that I still found myself admiring women, not quite leering anymore, but being close to Mari like this was comforting and nice and touching her to soothe her made me feel an old tingle of attraction. It was no burning thing, no all consuming need but it was nice to finally have someone to share an intimate moment with. We fell into silence and Mari closed her eyes. I thought she was going to sleep until she spoke.

“You ever think about…” her head shifted as she seemed to hesitate to say what she was wondering about.

“Being with two men?”

“No.” She shook her head.

“Watching two men together?”

“Ewww, no.” She giggled a little. "well, maybe a little just to see it once."

“Well you are going to have to just say it, Mare.”

“Being with another woman.” Oh I had thought about it, more often than I cared to admit. The fact was, I was feeling more than a little randy a lot. I could get some relief from the toys I had ordered discretely on the internet, but my only sexual encounter involving another human being had been with Kaitlyn. It was hard, I could kind of scratch that sexual itch but the feel of someone else’s hands on my skin still haunted me. I suppose one should expect me, given my situation, to be all kinds of a lesbian. The trouble was, I had started noticing men. Oh sure they did not have the graceful elegance of a woman’s body, but there were other things to admire about them. I was more and more of a sucker to height and broad shoulders. The height thing was not too hard, I was a short thing now, but the shoulders…. Mmmm.

Mari turned and looked me and smiled. “I interrupted youworking, didn’t I?”

“I was done, hon.” I smiled back to her. She smiled at me and started to turn away. I sat watching her, no longer stroking her hair but with my right side against the back of the couch, my right leg curled underneath me and my right arm up on the couch with my head resting on my closed fist. Mari was lounging with the back of her head resting against the top of the back cushion. Her head stopped in mid shift and her eyes quickly went up to mine. She had an odd look on her face. “What?” I asked with a little half chuckle.

“You know I always wondered why men were so fascinated by big breasts.” Her statement came out of the blue for me.

“You think I know?” I asked a little defensively. I felt a tickle on my right breast when she moved her left hand. It took me a second to realize she was touching me.

“You would have a better way of knowing than me.” Her hand cupped around me and gently moved me back under the overalls. I had to wonder if she felt the same tension in the air I did.