Sneaking Out (chapters 1-5)

 

Chapter 1: Old Friends and New Problems

"No daughter of mine is going out dressed like that, Joelle. Period," my ex-wife yelled from the foyer when she looked up and saw my chosen outfit for the night. "It's my job to protect you and raise you right, and—"

"First off, Samantha, I'm not your daughter. I'm your ex-husband, Joel, regardless of what I look like thanks to the virus. And secondly, it's not your job to do anything. Just because I caught this stupid virus doesn't mean I can't still have a life and go hang out with my friends."

She laughed loudly. 

"Your friends?! Your so-called friends aren't appropriate for you anymore, young lady. As far as you're concerned now, they're just a group of lecherous, horny men in their forties, and if you show up around them dressed like that, you're gonna find yourself on your back on a blanket in a rape van surrounded by those 'friends.'"

"They're cool with my change," I screamed back at her. "And just because you had two husbands walk out on you for younger, more attractive women doesn't mean that all men—"

She started up the stairs toward me. "Don't you dare take that tone with me, little missy."

"I'm not a little missy or a young lady. I told you, I'm still your ex-husband Jo—"

She interrupted my rant with another loud fit of laughter and pulled a thick document folded over double from her purse and held it in front of my face.

"Bullshit," she said as she waved the paper at me. "Not anymore you're not. I signed the paperwork today at my lawyer's office. I was going to surprise you with this over the weekend, but I'll go ahead and spoil it for you. The Gender Virus Containment & Research Agency approved your new identity, and since you're no longer my ex-husband Joel Tarrington legally anymore, they also granted my request to adopt you as my daughter. That's right, young lady. You're now legally Joelle Van Poole." 

She quickly refolded the document and shoved it back inside her purse.

"So, yes, you do have to do exactly what I say now, Joelle." 

I almost lunged at her but stopped myself. No reason to add assault to my list of infractions for my new 'mother' to hold against me. 

"Listen, Samantha, I really appreciate you giving me somewhere to stay after the firm fired me since I didn't look the part they wanted for a senior account manager anymore. But that's all it was, you doing me a favor and letting me have somewhere to stay until I could get back on my feet."

She smiled and joined me at the top of the stairs. 

"Oh, I think I can still help you find a more appropriate job for a girl your age. The Italian place is looking for hostesses and Maddie keeps mentioning that you'd be great as a waitress at the diner. And with your home situation all fixed now, my daughter," she said, targeting the word 'daughter' with all the emphasis her voice could muster, "minimum wage is really all you need to buy whatever clothes or frou-frou coffee drinks you want—or whatever girls your age like to spend money on." 

"You're not listening, Sam." 

"You're the one who isn't listening, Joelle. You are legally my daughter, and because of the new GV laws, you can't emancipate until your body reaches twenty-five years old. And since the blood test results showed you to be eighteen, even if you could pass for fifteen or sixteen, I'd think, that means seven more years before you can remotely extricate yourself from my legal guardianship."

"You can't do this, Sam. I'm a forty-six-year-old man regardless of what I look like."

"Take it up with the agency, young lady. And how about you start calling me 'Mom from now on? It's either that or I exercise my legal right as the mother of a GV girl to have you sent to one of the agency's research facilities for 'treatment,' which we both know is just a more palatable word for studying you like a lab rat to see how the virus works so no one believes that your civil rights are being violated. What do you think about that, little missy?"

"Sam..." I started, but she held her hand up in front of me and shook her head. 

"Mom," she corrected me. "Try it. Just hold your mouth like this and say it. Mom. Mom. Mom. See, that's not so difficult."

"You can't do this to me. You're being totally unfair."

"I think you'll find I can, at least legally, and I believe morally as well." She took my hand and led me back to the guest bedroom I had been living in since I lost my apartment. "So, what will it be, obedient, respectful daughter or scientific test subject? While you think about it, I'll just go ahead and call those dirty old perverts you called friends of yours and let them know to stay the hell away from you from now on. If I have to, I'll even get a restraining order if that's what it takes to protect you since you're dead set and determined to get yourself raped by your so-called friends."

"They're not that way," I said, following along, defeated. For now, she held all the cards legally, and I would have to play along or at least pretend to. "They're good guys. And more than that, they've been my friends for most of my life. 

"Even if they were, which I doubt, a girl who looks as young as you has no place hanging out with a group of men in their forties. Do you want to get a reputation as a slut?"

"Sam—" I caught the name before I could finish it and corrected myself. "Mom, I'm still Joel inside."

"It's not your inside I'm worried about and trying to keep safe, Joelle." Again with the feminized form of my name. "It's that cute, adorable, and very, very female outside."

I couldn't deny she was right. I had seen myself in the mirror enough to know how attractive my new body was. Young and slim, with great wide hips and full breasts that reminded me of my actual mother when she had been young, at least according to the photos I'd seen since she died when I was five. My brown-blonde hair cascaded over my shoulders in waves that would have put the ocean to shame. Blue-green eyes that seemed to be lit up from the inside. My lips were a little thin, but nothing some gloss and liner couldn't fix. And thanks to Samantha, I had learned quickly how to best apply make-up to make myself look cute without crossing over into slutty. 

There was a reason I had so quickly adapted to my new body and had defaulted to wearing skirts and dresses almost exclusively. Not only did they feel great, but I looked amazing in them, and even if I was all girl on the outside, I was still a man inside, and that meant I liked looking at a cute girl, even if that girl was me. 

It was weird, and I admitted that to myself, but I couldn't deny how awesome it made me feel to be so proud of my body for the first time in almost twenty years. 

I wasn't about to let that go to waste by hiding my figure in sweats and oversized t-shirts.

The irony of my new situation was that if someone were to see me and Samantha together, they'd never suspect I wasn't her natural-born daughter. We had the same shade of hair, and while her eyes were brown, they still lit up with a glow from inside that almost made them sparkle. Her lips were fuller than mine, but then again so was the rest of her thanks to her more womanly body—as opposed to my still girlish one—but I still looked as if I could have been a combination of her and some man's DNA. The differences allowed for me to have a 'father,' but the similarities would cinch the deal that we are blood-related. 

Stupid virus. 

She guided me into the room and deposited me in front of a full-length mirror in the corner. 

"And just look at what you're wearing, young lady," she said. 

I looked. I saw a cute girl in a tan mid-thigh skirt and a brown, short-sleeved sweater that really hugged the curvature of her chest. Her legs shined in the nude pantyhose, and she wore a pair of brown boots with two-inch heels. Definitely the kind of cutie who would have got my motor running just a few months ago. 

"Just who are you trying to impress? What are you advertising yourself for?" She pointed to my boobs. "Did you paint this sweater on? How can you remotely think about going out in something that tight?" Then she tugged on the hem of my skirt. "And this is way too short. Don't they make skirts that reach a girl's knees anymore?"

"I thought it was cute. I mean," I said, "do you even have any idea what girls wear nowadays in the 2020s?"

She huffed. "I don't care one lick about what other girls are wearing, but I do care deeply about what my daughter decides to wear."

The more she went on with the "daughter" bit, the more I felt trapped by it. Not only was she serious about it legally—after all, she had the paperwork to make it official—but she also seemed to be serious about it emotionally and psychologically, and god forbid, morally and spiritually. 

"I'm taking you shopping tomorrow to get you some more appropriate clothing, Joelle, and that's all there is to it." 

She walked to the door, then stopped with her hand on the door frame. 

"I making spaghetti for dinner, and I expect you to come down and help me. Understand?"

"Sure. Yeah. Whatever."

"I think you meant 'Yes, ma'am,' didn't you?"

Shit. Still, I let her have her way. For now. 

"Yes, ma'am."

"That's better. I'll start in about half an hour."

Then she left me still studying my outfit. Fuck her, I thought. I still thought it was cute, and I had no intention of joining some convent, at least in terms of fashion. She would just have to learn and get a clue about what was popular with girls my...

The thought hit me like a car wreck. 

...my age. 

Fuck. I was thinking and acting like a girl my age, my new age. 

Well, if she wanted to play the girl my age card to adopt me, then she'd have to live with the repercussions of that decision. If she wanted to treat me as a girl my age, then I'd damn well give her a girl my age. 

And every goddamn angsty issue that brought with it. 

* * *

During dinner prep, SamanthaMom—was a different person. I had changed into jeans and a flowery blouse, and that seemed to satisfy her, and with the apron on I was even more covered and domestic. A real 'good girl' just like she wanted. I played sous chef while she told me what to do, though I really wanted to tell her that I'd been cooking for myself since our divorce and knew how even better than she did. 

Of course, I didn't say a damn thing other than "Yes, ma'am" and "Thanks, Mom" and kept my mouth shut about anything that might set her off again. 

During dinner, Mom filled me in on the plans she had for the new me, plans that I would agree to one hundred percent if I didn't want to spend the next seven years in a research center as a guinea pig. Later in the week, she was enrolling me in the local girl's school. It was more a combination of finishing school and junior college but since I couldn't really on the degree or job experience I had earned as Joel, I needed to build a viable life as Joelle and school was always a great way to start. Together we would figure out what career path I would choose and take the appropriate classes and get the right degree. 

I would also start working with Maddie at the cafe, as she and Mom had already made the arrangements. I would start next weekend, but I could come by on Wednesday to pick up my uniform. 

I figured out her plan at once. She would keep me so busy being her daughter Joelle that I would have time to spend with anyone who knew me as Joel. Between school and work and helping out with dinner at home, that pretty much filled up my schedule. 

After dinner, I helped to clear the table, and we washed the dishes together, dried them, and put them away. She wanted to watch TV, and I told her I wanted to get some rest and went upstairs. When I was alone again finally, I texted Roman to let him know I still planned to join them for bowling regardless of what Samantha had told him. I asked him to let the others know, and he sent back a smiley face and a thumbs up.

Then I fluffed my pillows and two stuffed bears from the top of the closet and made it look like I was asleep under the covers. After that, I stripped off the awful loose jeans and blouse and slipped into my previous outfit that Mom had so many issues with. 

Fuck it, I liked it, and I figured the boys would get a kick out of it too.

Then I sneaked out the window. 

I used the darkness to my advantage and walked to the corner two streets away before opening the ride-share app. When the car arrived, I thanked good fortune that I still had access to my savings account from before and even tipped the dude driving generously. 

He dropped me off at the bowling alley, and I went inside to meet the guys. Chris met me with a big hug and patted my back as if I were still just one of the guys. Pete and Vernon looked up from their beers and nodded. Larry was sending a ball careening down the lane toward a seven-ten split. 

He missed both and cussed loudly, then finally noticed me. 

"Jolene!" he yelled and approached me for a hug. I noticed he didn't smack me on the back, and I felt a little self-conscious at how my boobs pushed into his chest as he tightened his grip and lifted me off the floor a few inches. 

"God," he said. "You're so fucking light now. I could never have done this with Joe."

"Put me down, you ape," I said with a laugh.

He did, and when we broke off the hug, I couldn't tell if he was just looking down at me since he was a good six inches taller than me now or if he was noticing my chest. 

I cleared my throat. 

"Who's winning?"

"Not fucking Larry, that's who," Vernon said. "Go pick out a ball and we'll finish up here. You want a drink?"

"With this face and this body?" I asked with a grin. "The only ID I have on me has a picture of a forty-six-year-old man on it. I think maybe I'd better stick with a cola for now."

Vernon laughed. "Suit yourself."

Pete chimed in with, "Once we're done, there's a cooler out in my truck. We can head up to Winslow Park and get shit-faced if you're game."

"When am I ever not game, Pete?"

"That's the Joel we know and love," he said. 

"Oh, sorry I'm late."

"Oh," Roman said, startling me as he approached behind me. "Trust me. We know. We all got the call from your new mom. Sorry I missed you coming in. Had to drain the dragon."

I sighed and looked at the floor for a few seconds. 

"But it's okay," he continued. "We're all here now. Right?"

I nodded. "Fuck yeah."

I filled them in on the rest of the details, including school and my new job as we bowled. I had found earlier that while I wasn't as strong in my new female body, I had far more control of the ball as long as I didn't use anything heavier than a ten-pounder, and I remained solidly in the middle of the score sheet. The boys agreed that they'd have to come visit me at the diner since I'd be so busy, and even promised to "tip real good for lots of attention."

We laughed, and we bowled three more games until it was almost midnight. 

"Time for your curfew, kiddo?"Vernon asked with a chuckle. "Or do you still want to get shitfaced at the park with your old buddies?"

"Old is right," I said. "Maybe you guys should catch the virus too and lose a few years."

"Fuck that," Vernon said. "I like having my dick too much. I don't know what I'd do without it."

"Probably the same as you do with it now," Pete said as he smacked Vernon on the back. "Next to fucking nothing."

We all laughed. 

"So," Larry said, "Speaking of that, have you tried out the new equipment yet? What's that like, huh?"

"Fuck, man," Roman said. "Don't ask her that. Stop being gross."

"Gross," Larry shot back. "Don't pretend you haven't wondered. Hell, Pete and Vern and I were talking about it on the way here tonight.

"Goddamn it, Larry," Pete said. "I didn't think you'd bring that shit up in front of her. Have a little class."

Everything got quiet for a minute, and I figured it was up to me to break the tension. 

"It's okay, guys. It's only natural to think about it. I mean, it's a little embarrassing, but I'm sure I'd be thinking about it too if it was one of you guys instead of me."

I could feel the air grow breathable again. I sighed. 

"So?" Larry asked, pressing the point. "Have you?"

"Shit, you don't stop, do you?" I responded with a smile. "But yeah. Hell, yeah, I did that first week. I was so fucked up and confused and I just couldn't help myself."

"How was it?" It was Pete this time.

"Kind of awesome. I ain't gonna lie." 

They all nodded, except Roman. He was still shaking his head at the direction the conversation had taken. 

"Hey, guys," he said finally. "Beers?"

We all nodded and went outside. Pete, Vernon, and Larry all went to Pete's truck since they rode together. Roman and Chris had each driven, so both looked at me when I mentioned I had taken a ride-share.

"Which white knight do you want to be rescued by tonight then, Milady?" Chris asked. "The one with the 'Vette or the Camry?"

I laughed. "And risk my life with you in the 'Vette again. I think I'll stick with Roman."

Roman laughed and we both went to his silver-gray sedan. He clicked the fob and the locks shot up. I noticed he didn't make a step to get the door for me. 

"Seriously though, if Samantha's being such a bitch about all this, you're not going to get in trouble with her, are you?"

"No. Maybe. Hell, I don't know. But I do know I can't just stop hanging out with my best friends just because I got the virus."

"Still, it sounds like she's got all the power right now and could really make like difficult for you." 

"Fuck her," I said. 

We laughed. 

I listened to the radio, some country music love song show broadcast out of Memphis, and I got comfy in the passenger side, leaning back and propping my feet up on the dash. 

"Ummm..." Roman said but didn't add any relevant details.

"What?" I asked, confused. 

He motioned with his eyes to my legs where the angle I was sitting in had made my skirt gather almost up to my hips, exposing enough of my thighs to see where the texture of my pantyhose changed from sheer to gusset.

"Can't help yourself, can you?" I asked with a laugh. 

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, seriously. Admit it. I've got great legs."

"Stop fucking around. It's already weird enough. You don't have to make it any weirder."

"We're all buddies. What's wrong with a little weirdness between friends?"

He shook his head. "Keep that up and you'll get yourself in trouble, kiddo."

"Now you sound just like my new mom," I said with a laugh. 

"We wouldn't want that, would we?" 

We shared a laugh and then both got quiet.

"Seriously, though," he asked, "would you mind just sitting up?"

So I adjusted my seat back to normal and sat up again, crossing my legs to get comfortable. 

"Thanks," he said. 

"Pussy," I said. 

"You are what you eat," he said. 

I started to speak and then realized now that I had a pussy myself, any comment I could make would be just as uncomfortable to him as me practically forcing him to look at my legs. So I just stayed quiet and listened to the radio. 

We arrived at the park in a few minutes, just two more songs, and I was never in such a hurry to get out of the car and start drinking. I know he was just trying to be polite and not make me feel like a piece of meat, but honestly, he was trying so hard not to be an asshole that it made me even more aware of the way my body was making him feel things he dared not mention to me.

I had learned the hard way that my new smaller body didn't hold alcohol the way my previous male body had, so I played it cool and stopped at only three of Pete's cheap beers. 

The boys wanted to know more about the all-girls school and jokingly asked me if I could hook them up with any of the new friends I'd be making. I reminded them that anyone I'd meet would be young enough to be their daughter, and they laughed and asked what was wrong with that. I laughed too. 

It was about two in the morning when Roman excused himself and asked if it was okay if Pete or Chris took me home instead.

I nodded and said that was fine, and he drove off, promising to text me so I knew he made it home safely. 

After that, Vernon said he had an early day at work and needed to head home too. Pete said his goodbyes. Larry agreed to stay to "keep me safe from perverts" and Chris said he'd be happy to take both of us home. 

When Larry, Chris, and I were alone, sitting on the picnic table by the basketball courts, Chris jumped up and said he'd be right back. He went to his car, opened the trunk, and returned with a large bottle of Jim Beam and three red plastic cups. 

"Now the party can really start," he said. "I totally forgot I had this." 

"Oh, shit, Chris. I don't know. I'm already feeling a buzz from the beers."

"When the hell did you become such a lightweight, Jolene?" Larry asked with a laugh. 

"When I turned into this," I said. "Little Jolene can't hold her liquor the way big ol' Joel could."

Chris and Larry laughed. But I noticed it didn't stop Chris from pouring me a few fingers into a cup and handing it to me.

"Okay," I said. "Just one though, or else you guys are going to have to carry me back into my bedroom through the window I sneaked out of."

We shot the shit about life and football and even what my new orgasms felt like, and by the time another hour had rolled around, one cup had become three more. I lay on my back on top of the picnic table watching the world swirl and spin. The boys sat on opposite sides of me. 

"Hey, kiddo," Larry asked. I noticed a slight pressure on my thigh. It felt warm. It held me still so I didn't spin with the rest of the world. "Have you, you know, actually done it yet with anybody?"

I shook my head and felt the sudden urge to throw up so I got still again. 

"You okay?" Chris asked. 

"Will be. Just don't let me me spin anymore."

"You're the boss," he said. 

There was a matching pressure on my other thigh, equally warm and equally skilled and keeping me from swirling away with the sky and the trees and the basketball court.

"I think I'm drunk," I said.

"I think we all are," said Larry.

Chris didn't say anything. He just lay on the table beside me and rested his head on my shoulder. 

"Chris?" I said.

"Yeah?"

"You're so warm."

"Are you cold?"

"A little."

Larry lay down beside me on the other side. He rested his hand in his hand. His hand disappeared from my thigh and then reappeared a few inches higher. "You didn't answer my question, Jolene?"

I started to sing off-key, "I'm begging of you please don't take my man..."

We all laughed. 

"You can't sing for shit, girl," Chris said. 

I tried to sit up but discovered quickly that wasn't at all what my body wanted me to do so I lay down again. Larry's warmth was suddenly beneath my skirt, barely an inch from my pussy. 

"So?" he asked. 

"Oh," I said. "Not yet. Why? Have you?"

Chris laughed out loud. "She got you good, Lar." 

Larry's hand moved again and all the pressure suddenly rested on my crotch. 

"Your hand is on my pussy," I said. 

"Yes, it is," he said. "How do you feel about that?"

"I feel drunk about it. But it warms good."

He grinned. 

There was a pressure on my sweater, cupping one of my boobs. 

"How do you feel about that, Jo-Jo?" Chris asked. 

"I feel like if I move I might throw up."

"Then why don't you just lie still?"

"I think I might."

Between the twin acts of groping, my drunk body started to respond. After a few minutes, both hands had slipped between my clothing, Larry's inside my hose and panties going to town on my clit with his fingers, and Chris's under my sweater and inside my bra, teasing my now erect nipples, going back and forth from one tit to the other. 

"How are you feeling now?" Larry asked. 

"I..." I tried, but between the liquor and that damn finger on my clit, I just couldn't get words to form. 

It was then that Chris leaned over and kissed me. His mouth parted my own, and his tongue invaded and conquered mine. He breathed his warm boozy breath into my mouth, and I found myself returning the passion in kind. All the while, Larry was working my pussy and had added a second finger and was fucking me as deeply as his fingers could go while his thumb continued to work my clit. 

"So, this is going to be your first time?" Larry asked. 

I still couldn't speak, especially not with Chris's tongue in my mouth. 

The pressure in my pussy disappeared and I found that I wanted it back. 

Chris took his mouth off mine. 

One of them, I wasn't sure which, stood between my feet, which dangled off the edge of the table and pulled me so that my skirt was up around my waist and half of my ass was hanging off the table. I closed my eyes to keep my stomach from lurching from the sudden jerking motion. My hose and panties were snatched down my legs and pulled off. Whoever was standing between my legs moved closer and I heard the sound of a zipper being opened. 

Even in my drunken weakness and liquored-up horniness, I realized just how dire my situation was. Torn as I was between wanting it and wanting to avoid it, I knew I was seconds away from my first time getting fucked as a girl. 

All I could think was that goddamn Samantha was right, and I'd never hear the end of it. Not only that, but I wouldn't be surprised if I ended up at a research facility. 

Still, I didn't hold it against Larry and Chris. They were as drunk as I was and probably couldn't help themselves any more than I could. 

"So fucking tight." It was Larry's voice. "So motherfucking tight. Oh, fuck yeah. That's some good pussy right there," he said as the first inch or so of his cock pushed inside me. "I've been wanting to pop your little cherry for a month now, Jolene."

"Not the only one," said Chris, whose voice was coming from beside me. "But you go first. You won the toss."

Oh shit. They had actually fucking planned this. They had waited for the others to leave and then plied me with hard liquor to get me wasted enough not to fight back. I didn't want to think they were capable of it, but the proof was right inside my twat. I was being raped by the two assholes I thought were my friends. 

"Did you bring rubbers?" Chris asked. 

"Fuck no," Larry said. 

"You going to pull out then?"

"Fuck no."

"She can get pregnant, you know," Chris said. 

"And she can get a fucking abortion just like any other girl," Larry said, as if nothing, not even the prospect of knocking me up, was going to ruin his fun taking my female virginity. "Besides, you know she wants it. If she didn't she wouldn't have dressed like such a tease and hugged us and shit. She's been asking for it ever since she changed."

Larry was pumping me hard and fast now, not making love but just pounding me like I was only created for one thing, and that one thing was sex. 

While he shoved his cock in and out of me, Chris took a position sitting on my chest. I opened my eyes to see him unzip his jeans and expose his stiff prick. He tapped it against my chin then my lips. 

"Let's see if sucking cock comes naturally to you virus girls," he said. 

Then he pinched one of my nipples and twisted it so hard that I yelped. As I did, he pushed the cock inside my mouth. 

"Suck it, Jo-Jo," he said. "And don't you dare think about biting me or trying to spit it out. You know you want it, or else you wouldn't have stayed here with us and been so easy to get drunk in the first place."

"I guess it's true what they say about virus girls," Larry said. "They don't just turn into girls. They turn into total sluts. I never would have thought ol' Joel would turn out like this."

I wanted to argue, but the only sounds I could make were gurgling noises as Chris's prick pushed deeper into my mouth, almost into my throat.

"Oh, fuck," he said. "I think Jo-Jo here is going to be able to deep-throat me the first time."

"I think it's time, Jolene," Larry said with a grunt. "I think I'm gonna cum."

Fuck, I thought. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Larry came first and I could feel the thick gooeyness of his semen shoot inside me. Please don't let me get pregnant, I prayed to every deity I ever heard of. Please don't fucking let me get knocked up by Larry of all people. 

But the words were pulled from my mind as Chris too started to jerk and within moments, as he held my head still, he pushed as far into my throat as he could and filled my mouth and throat with his salty cum. 

I didn't have to be told to swallow it. I knew him well enough to know what he expected me, just like any other girl, to do. He had bragged about it often enough. 

And then, like a signal from above, they both switched places, but not before turning me over onto my belly first so that I was at a ninety-degree angle on the edge of the table. Larry sat in front of me and stroked his cock, trying to get it to stand up again, while Chris took a position behind me and swatted his still-soft manhood against my labia. 

Larry told me to lick his balls and cock, and I didn't see that I had much of a choice. Besides, it wasn't as if I hadn't taken them both like the slut they had assumed I had become anyway. What did one more time hurt, right? Fuck. Assholes. Fuck.

So I whipped out my tongue and licked him like a fucking lollipop. In no time he was stiff again and I opened my lips to take him full in my mouth.

"Almost as tight as her pussy," he said. 

Apparently, watching me suck Larry's dick made Chris excited and soon he was rigid and entering me doggy style. The new angle allowed him to penetrate me deeper than Larry had, and Chris, to his credit, was a far more attentive lover than Larry had been. He pumped me slowly and with a kind of deliberate motion that made me wonder if he was specifically targeting different parts of my cunt with each stroke. 

It took a little bit longer the second round, but still, within ten or so minutes, Larry exploded in my mouth, and soon after, Chris filled me with his seed deep inside my pussy. 

After that, they let me lie down for a few minutes. Eventually, when I did sit up, I immediately vomited all over the table. Chris gave me some paper towels to clean up my face. When I was clean, Larry tossed my panties and pantyhose at me and told me to get dressed, that it was time for them to take me home.

The whole right home, I sat between them in the fit of Chris's Corvette. I think they must have gotten a kick of the fact I was practically sitting on top of the shifter. They warned me not to tell anyone about what happened unless I wanted a reputation for fucking guys old enough to be my dad. I barely listened. 

Chapter 2—Adjustments

Mom was waiting up in the living room when I dragged my disheveled ass inside the house at almost four-thirty in the morning. She took one look at me and said, "They did it, didn't they? They fucking did it just like I said they would. And you practically begged them for it by thinking they would still just treat you like one of the guys."

I walked to her, dropped onto the floor in front of her, lay my head in her lap, and cried. Nothing needed to be said. She was right and she and both knew now that she had been right all along. My friends, well, Joel's friends, clearly didn't feel the same way about Joelle as they had the man I used to be.

"There, there, Joelle. Cry it out. It's a hard lesson to learn about people, but I can guarantee it won't happen again."

Whether she meant she would stop them from getting near me or prevent me from putting myself at risk I wasn't sure. To be honest, I really didn't care. 

She lifted my chin and looked at me deeply. 

"Maybe next time you'll listen to me. Whether you like it or not, I'm your mother now, and my job is to take care of you." She stroked my hair. "Go up and get a long, hot shower. Then take a long, long rest. That's all you have to think about for now. We can deal with the rest of it later."

I slept through most of the day and didn't wake up until it was almost time for dinner. Thankfully, Mom didn't ask me to help, but instead, she took a bowl of potato soup up to my room and let me eat in bed. 

"I'm so sorry that happened, baby," she said. 

"I..." I started but ended up crying again instead. 

"I know, sweet girl. I know." She held me by my shoulders and kissed the top of my head. "Whenever you're ready, we'll talk about what we need to do next, but for now, you just rest and cry and feel better."

"I got drunk," I said as if that explained everything. 

"I know. Who do you think cleaned up the hallway?"

"I threw up?"

"Several times. But don't worry. Mama is here to take care of that. I know what I signed on for."

"Thank you," I said, eyes still filling with tears. "They..."

"They did exactly what I told you they'd do. That's what they did."

"I'm sorry," I muttered. “I never even said no.”

"Don't be sorry, baby girl. Learn."

"Yes, ma'am," I said. 

If I was sure of anything, it was that the event had changed me. Maybe it had broken me. Maybe, at least for a while, I would be content to be Samantha's young lady and little missy and do what I was told. Maybe I was more ready to be taken care of instead of copping an attitude and still trying to be the person I had once been. 

She left to let me eat in peace, and I checked my phone out of habit. There were two messages from Roman, several missed calls from both Chris and Larry, and an email from Vernon just checking in to make sure the beer hadn't done a number on me. 

I just couldn't muster up the will or the bravery to check any of them. 

I needed distance. 

Just like Mom had told me the day before. 

If only I had listened to her.

After dinner, I joined her downstairs, and we watched Masterpiece Theatre on the BBC. I sat up on the couch holding a pillow against my chest with my feet pulled beneath me. When the show was over, instead of heading up to bed, I asked, "Can we talk?"

She nodded. "Absolutely."

"When they... had... had sex with..."

"They fucked you, raped you. They did not just have sex with you."

I nodded and continued. "I might be pregnant," I all but whispered.

"Those bastards," she said. "They didn't use a condom?"

I shook my head. 

My eyes threatened to leak again. 

"Fine. Fine. We'll see the doctor and we'll take care of that. Whatever you need, baby. Whatever you need."

* * *

The next few days were a whirlwind of activity. 

I went to the OB-GYN on Tuesday and had blood work and other tests done to determine if I was pregnant or not. Somehow, luck had been on my side, and I had managed to avoid getting knocked up. But the doctor, an older lady named Beatrice Latham, did let me know that I had some tearing and bruising and that I needed to avoid intercourse for a while until I healed. 

Fine, I thought. Not a problem. 

After that, we went to Maddie's Diner and I picked up both uniforms. They were identical in a blue and white gingham with an apron so that I'd have one clean while the other was washing. Mom decided that it would help me keep my mind off everything that had happened if I went straight to work and started to establish new patterns. 

Maddie asked if I could start on Saturday, but I told her, as Mom suggested, that I could begin as early as Wednesday if she wanted me to. Of course, that was fine with her. 

On Wednesday morning before the lunch shift I was to start, Mom drove me to the Louellen Maitsfield Girls College for my initial paperwork and interview with the Dean. Of course, Dean Whitcomb, the Dean of Admissions, was already sympathetic to my needs and the school had already established scholarships for girls in my situation. After all, I wasn't the only man suddenly transformed into a school-aged coed by the virus. Nor was I the first who needed to build a new background for future employment in my new life. 

The final stop was at the school store, where Mom picked up three school uniforms for me. Each was a blue and purple tartan skirt with a blue sweater vest. In addition to those, she also got me a long-sleeved sweater with the LMGC logo over the left breast for when the weather got colder. 

After that, we swung by the mall for dress loafers and a pair of black, low-heeled Mary Janes that would be comfortable enough for walking all over the campus. 

All the while, my phone was blowing up with messages and texts from the guys. When I was finally able to face reading them, I did so in the privacy of my own closet in my room with the lights out after I had told Mom I was going to bed. The last thing I needed was for her to know I was still interested in contact with them. 

Not that I was. 

I just needed to know what they were saying. 

The messages from Larry had started off apologetic. He was sorry about what happened. He was drunk and so was I, but it never should have happened. He didn't want me to get the wrong idea. Could we meet and talk about it?

After a few days, when I hadn't responded, they became more pressing. Had I told anyone? I wasn't going to the cops, was I? Rape was a seriously difficult thing to prove, and after all, I was just as drunk and into the sex as they had been. Hell, I probably wanted it to happen again. 

Then a day without anything and finally one last text from him. He'd see me around since I obviously didn't want anything to do with him anymore, but he'd miss me. We had been friends for years, after all. 

Chris's phone messages were similar but without the low-key threats. He actually hoped I had a good time and that they had made my first time special and something to remember and to call if I wanted to hang out again. 

Apparently, according to the notes from Vernon, he was still oblivious to the rape, as was Roman. They both just wanted to make sure I was okay and that I hadn't been found out by Samantha. They were fully aware that she could make life a living hell for me, and maybe I should play it safe for a few days. They would meet at the bowling alley again this coming Sunday if I wanted to join them. 

Pete hadn't sent anything, so I wasn't sure where he stood. Did he know or didn't he? I had no idea, nor did I really care. 

Then, on Wednesday, came another text from Roman. He wanted to talk and was going to visit me at the diner. What day did work?

I was at work when the message arrived, and since I wasn't allowed to have my phone on the floor, I didn't get to read it until my break at four o'clock. But by then it was too late. He had already driven by and seen me and he was going to wait, and could I meet him for a coffee at the Bean Shoppe when I got off work?

I didn't respond, but when I walked back to the floor after my break, I saw him sitting at a table in my area. I took a deep breath, sighed, and went over to take his order. 

"Can I take your order, sir?" I asked as matter-of-factly as possible considering how violently my heart was pounding. 

He smiled. "Cute. It suits you. I mean the now you." He took a long inhale and looked like he was trying to start over. "Sorry. I shouldn't have said that." 

"Would you like something to eat or maybe a piece of pie?"

"Keeping it formal, Jo?" he asked. "Probably for the best. And yes, how about a piece of pecan pie and a sweet tea, please." 

"Sure thing, sir. Coming right up."

As I was about to turn to walk away, he whispered, "What time do you get off? We really need to talk."

I pulled out my order pad again, wrote five thirty on it, tore it off, and handed it to him.

He took the note, looked at it, smiled weakly, then crumbled it up and shoved it into his pocket. Then he waited quietly, checking his phone, for me to bring him the pie and tea. After he was finished he returned to his car and sat across the street as I finished my shift. 

After the work day was over, I walked over to him without changing first. 

"Okay, I've only got a few minutes. Mom is coming to pick me up."

He chuckled. "Mom, huh?"

I smirked. 

"Okay, listen. I wanted to apologize for freaking out when you propped up in my car and showed off so much leg. I hope you don't think I was trying to perve on you. I value your friendship too much to let that happen.” He took a breath. “Just having to even mention that out loud then made it such a weird conversation. I mean, I don't want to see you as, well, cute, but sometimes, my eyes won't listen to my brain.”

I nodded. 

"Anyway, I was thinking that maybe because of the changes and everything, it might be best if you didn't see the guys and me as much anymore."

"Oh?" I asked. 

"Yeah. Several reasons. First of all, even though most folks know about you catching the virus, it still doesn't look good with you always hanging out with us. I don't want you to get a reputation, and like it or not, some people are going to make assumptions."

"Assumptions?"

"You know, a girl your age with a group of men our age. I just don't want anyone to start thinking you're some kind of slut." 

Too late, I thought. Only, 'some people' were two of the very guys you mentioned.

"Okay," I said. 

"I just don't want you to get a bad reputation. It's already going to be tough enough for you without—Wait. Okay?"

"Yeah, okay. I get it." 

"Oh. That did not go as I expected it to. I figured you'd be more stubborn than that."

"No. It's okay. I get it. You're just looking out for me. Just like Mom."

"You know, this mom shit is getting a little creepy."

I nodded. "I'm trying it on for size. I might as well get used to it."

"Yeah. Sure. Okay," he said. "Anyway, your reputation is just one reason. Another is that you're cute, really cute, and like it or not, I can't help but see you as a woman now, well, a girl, and I just don't want to think of you like that."

"Like what?"

"Like a potential girlfriend or worse, a conquest.  I mean, it's hard to keep my thoughts pure when you're as pretty as you are. So maybe it's better if I keep my distance."

"Okay."

"Okay?" he asked. "What's with you today? Are you okay? Is everything all right?"

"Everything's fine," I lied. No need to drag the one friend who was a genuinely nice guy into knowing that his other friends were rapist assholes. 

"No, really. What's eating you today, Joel?"

"Joelle. Not Joel. Since it's my legal name now, I need to get used to it."

"Fine. Joelle. Whatever."

"Thanks."

"Still, what's eating you? You're acting like you're a million miles away."

"Nothing. I'm just agreeing with you, that's all. You're right, and maybe if I'm going to try to start over as a girl my age, then the last thing I need to be doing is trying to still hang on to my old life as one of the guys."

"You sure that's it?"

"That's all. Promise," I lied again. 

He looked at me deeply, like he had known me long enough to know I was totally full of shit. But he also had something in his eyes that told me he wasn't going to push it, that if I had something I wasn't willing to share yet, he'd wait. He also looked like something had ended, that something irreversible was happening and he was stuck in the middle of it. 

"Okay. Good then. I guess I'll see you around."

"Yeah. You know where to find me." 

"Best pecan pie in town, I hear." It sounded like he was trying too hard too. 

He cranked up the Camry, and the country music station came on. 

"See you around, Mr. Jenkins," I said. 

"See you around, kiddo," he said. 

I turned and walked back to the diner and took a seat near the window to wait for Mom. With any luck, when classes started on Monday, I'd make some new friends to replace the lifelong one I had just pushed away. 

* * *

The guys stopped texting me after my meeting with Roman. I guess he had asked them to stop bothering me, and told them that I was determined to start my new life one way or the other. Of course, he didn't know what really had prompted me to move on, and if I had my way, he never would. 

Mom had asked me about my first day at work, and she seemed shocked when I told her about 'Mr. Jenkins' dropping by for pie and sweet tea. 

"Mr. Jenkins, huh?" she had said. 

"No sense in calling him by his first name anymore. That part of my life is over, right?" 

She grinned. 

"I'm just a kid and he's an old man, old enough to be my dad, not my best friend."

"Among other things," she said, but she let the rest go unsaid. 

I chose to ignore the comment too. Instead, I figured it was finally time to address the proverbial elephant in the room. 

"M-m-mom?" I stammered.

"Yes, Joelle?"

"Can we talk, about that night, I mean?"

"If you think you're ready to do that, sure."

"Probably. Maybe not. Only one way to find out."

She smiled. "That's my brave girl."

"So," I started, then stopped to count to ten in my head and suck in the deepest breath I could. "So," I said again.

"Are you sure you're ready, honey?"

"Not really, but I feel like I need to do this."

We were already sitting together on the sofa, but Mom motioned me closer by patting the cushion beside her. I scooted over, and she reached into my lap for both of my hands and held them. 

"I was drunk, and they were too. We all were. I snuck out to go bowling with them, you know that already. But because I was too young to get a beer at the bowling alley, we went to Winslow Park to drink. The guys had some beers in Pete's truck."

She nodded but said nothing. 

"Anyway, I watched how much I drank. I did. Well, I did at first. I know I can't handle alcohol as well since I lost so much of my mass and my years of being used to handling it when the virus made me so much younger. So I knew better than to drink too much."

She kept nodding gently. 

"But this is the part you don't know. This is the part I just couldn't face, I guess, but I know I have to get it off my chest so you understand. Maybe so I can understand too." I stopped for a moment to gather my thoughts and wipe my eyes where tears threatened to fall. I was crying way too easily lately. "They're not all bad, not like you think. I know you'll find this hard to believe, but Roman agrees with you. That's what he wanted to talk about. He told me straight up that it wasn't a good idea for us to hang out together anymore, that I was too young, and that the more I was around them the more likely I was to get a reputation as some kind of slut who has sex with older men."

"Oh," she said but offered no further words to indicate any thoughts beyond the acknowledgment. 

"I wanted you to know that. At least Roman is all right. He wants to do the right thing. He even told me that one of the reasons we needed to stop hanging out was that he was having trouble getting past the fact that I made him feel things that made him uncomfortable and that his feeling that way about me wasn't fair to either of us."

"Good to know," she said, still nodding. "But he knows about the—"

I shook my head fiercely. "No, he doesn't. That's what I'm getting to. Because of all that, he ended up leaving earlier. I guess the last thing he wanted was to get drunk and feel too relaxed around me.

"But he still left you with the others."

I nodded. "I guess he didn't imagine they could do that any more than I could. It's... Well, it's..." I stopped, unable to find the words I needed, if they even existed. "Anyway, after he left, Vernon and Pete did too, so it was just me and Chris and Larry. Well, apparently they have been thinking about it for a while, and Chris kept offering me hard liquor."

"And I'm guessing you took it."

I nodded again. "I was already buzzed and not thinking clearly, and it felt so good just to hang out and be one of the guys again, so yeah, I drank it."

I paused, and neither of us said anything for about a minute, so I continued. 

"This is the part I don't like."

"We can stop if you need to, baby."

I shook my head. "If I don't do this now, I might never be able to face it."

"I'm here for you, Joelle. You know that, I hope." 

"I'm trying to accept that too."

She smiled warmly, sincerely. 

"It didn't start out as anything but a little drunk making out. I even thought it felt nice. I know it was the booze loosening me up, but I did, I honestly enjoyed it a little."

"There's nothing wrong with enjoying it, just not with old men. You find a nice boy your own age, and... well, we can talk about that later. I'm sorry. You go ahead, honey."

"So, that's all it was at first, and even when Larry first, you know, put himself inside me, I was able to not think about it like a rape, you know. It was just drunk friends finally doing something they couldn't do when they were sober."

"Did Chris—"

"Yeah, but Larry did it first. And he wouldn't fucking shut up about how he had been waiting to get me alone and how they had planned it."

"Joelle?" she said.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Language, please. My daughter needs to watch her language."

"Yes, ma'am," I said. "That's when I realized Larry and Chris had been thinking about having sex with me—"

"Raping you."

"Well, yeah, they had been thinking about that all along." I got quiet and looked down at the floor for a long time. Mom didn't push me.

"You okay, baby?"

I nodded weakly. I didn't want her to see how quickly I had started crying at the thought of having to face my next few words. 

"I never told them no, Mom. I never asked them to stop."

She said nothing. 

"So it wasn't rape, not really. Sure, I was drunk, but I could have told them to stop. I just couldn't think about it. I couldn't face that they were capable..."

I stopped for good. I just couldn't go on any further. Mom pulled me into a huge, warm hug and held on while I cried into her chest. 

"You were drunk. It was rape," she whispered. "Maybe no small-town court would ever see it that way, but you know it was. Those bastards may have been Joel's friends, but Joel is gone, baby, and they're not Joelle's friends at all. They're just the assholes who took advantage of you."

I tried to speak, but I just couldn't. Instead, the tears gushed again like someone had opened a dam. 

Fuck it, I knew she was right. Maybe I had always known it, but I needed to ignore it so I didn't feel like the man I had been before was really gone. 

After about a half-hour of hugs and tears, I was able to sit up again. 

"Roman is a good guy though," I said weakly. "We're not going to be friends, not really, not anymore, but he's not like Larry and Chris. I don't know about Pete and Vernon, but"

"It's okay, baby."

"I bet if I told him about what happened, he'd probably beat the shit out of both Larry and Chris."

"Language, sweetheart."

"Yes, ma'am."

"So he doesn't know? You haven't told him?"

"And I don't plan to. No reason to fuck up his life too when I can just stay out of it."

"Language."

"Sorry."

* * *

I'd been in school for two weeks and working at the diner for almost three when I was surprised to find Larry and Chris sitting at a booth in my section. I had noticed them when I came in after school for my shift, and I was pretty sure they both noticed my school uniform as I entered, but I didn't give them the satisfaction of letting them know I saw them. Instead, I went to the back and changed into my work uniform. The inside of the diner was always cold, so I had learned that the best way to stay warm was to wear hose or tights. Of course, knowing what I knew about Larry and Chris, I regretted that decision immediately. 

"The uniform looks good on you," Larry said. "Both of them."

"You almost look like a real teenager now, Jo-Jo," Chris added. 

I sucked in a deep breath. "Welcome to Maddie's. Can I take your order?"

"So professional, almost like she hasn't known us all our lives," Larry said. 

I counted to ten in my head. I wasn't going to allow them to goad me. 

"It's good to see you again, Mr. Grayson. You too, Mr. Severson. Would you like some pie? They say it's the best in the county."

I regretted the question immediately. 

"It wasn't bad," Larry said. 

Chris shot him a glance. I counted to ten again. 

"Maybe some dinner? The special is the country fried steak."

"Where ya been, Jolene?" Larry asked. "With you gone, we're one short for bowling."

"Or the soup of the day is chicken noodle, if you want that instead."

"When did you start school the school for girls? Can't believe she's really making you do that. I figured it was just a way to threaten into submission and do what you were told."

And you'd know all about how to make me do what I'm told, I thought. Wouldn't you?

I shook my head. "I'll just give you gentlemen a minute or two to make up your minds." 

As I turned to go, Larry's hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. "I'll tell you what I want." Realizing he was about to make a scene, he let go and lowered his voice. "I'll have water with lemon and the soup." Then he added in an almost whisper, "And I'd like to know why you've been ignoring us."

"One soup for Mr. Grayson," I said. "And for you, Mr. Severson?"

Chris said, "I'll take the special, extra gravy." He nodded as he spoke, smiling at me with a clear indication that he was enjoying the view. “And a water with lemon,” he added.  

"Yes, sir," I replied. 

"Seriously," he added. "What's going on? Too good for your old friends now?"

"Just trying to avoid making the same old mistakes all over again. New me, new life, new outlook."

"You sound like a fucking fortune cookie," Larry said. 

"And to drink, sir?"

"Fucking sir this and Mr. that. Goddamn, girl. Play this hard to get and you might not even get a tip."

I waited for the "getting the tip" pun or even an "already been got" joke, but neither came. 

"Listen, Jo-Jo, we made a special trip to see you. You don't have to be like this. We're still friends, right? No little mistake can take that away, can it?"

"Joelle," I said. "I have to get used to it."

"Joelle, Jolene, Jo-Jo, who cares? Other than Samantha, I mean." Larry laid a twenty-dollar bill on the table. "Be nice, and you can have all that for a tip. Keep being a bitch and see how fast it takes me to complain to Maddie about the new girl and her attitude."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Grayson," I said. "I understand."

"Or maybe if you keep acting like we're gum you stepped in, we could just spread the word around town about how easy that new virus girl is. I bet you'd have every dude in town lining up for a piece of that pie, sweetheart." 

"I understand," I said meekly. 

"Best pie in the county, I hear," Larry added with a horny grin.

I didn't respond. 

"I'll be right back with your drinks."

Maddie caught me at the drink machine as I was filling up two glasses of water. "Don't mind them," she said. "Guys like that just want a little attention from a cute girl. Play nice and even flirt a little, and they tend to order a lot and tip well."

If only she knew. 

When I took them their water, I was all smiles, like I had a fucking choice. "Here ya go, guys. Sorry for my attitude earlier. It's been a long day with school. Lots of homework." 

"Much better, Jo-Jo," Chris said. "See, it doesn't hurt you to play nice."

"Speaking of school," Larry added. "You really looked super cute in your school uniform."

"Thank you, sir."

"No problem. Of course, this waitress outfit is kind of cute too. They both really show off your legs, and we know how proud you are of those." 

I smiled and nodded. 

As I stood there, Chris drained the full glass of water and set it empty on the table with a clank that made the ice cubes rattle. 

"I'll get you another, Mr. Severson."

"Thanks," he said. 

I endured them as best I could and played along. Maybe, I wondered, I should let Mom get a restraining order against them, but then, if that happened, there really was no telling what they might do to get back at me. Better just to endure and let it play out. It wasn't as if I was going to let myself be caught dead alone with them ever again anyway.

I waited on the other tables in my zone but was careful not to ignore Chris and Larry and to make sure they felt they were getting enough of my attention. 

In the end, I got the full twenty dollars as a tip and they told me they'd be back and that they enjoyed both the meal and the service. Larry though, just had to push it and asked if I had considered babysitting and said that next time he had his kids over for his weekend, I should think about picking up some extra money. 

I had a good idea that watching the kids wasn't the priority he had in mind for me as a babysitter. We had watched too many porn videos together back in the day for me to fall for that one. 

So, to keep them on my good side, I simply said, "I'll have to think about it and see if it works with my work and school schedule, but maybe." 

"Do that," he added before leaving. "I bet you're good... with kids."

After they left, the little bell above the door tinkled and clanged, and I allowed my body to relax for the first time since I had started the shift. Only, when it jangled again, I turned to notice Chris coming back inside. He walked up to me and shoved another twenty into my hand. "Almost forgot my part of the tip," he said, then he added in a whisper. "Call me. I miss having you around. And it's obvious you know how to keep your mouth shut about important things." Then he spoke out in his normal volume. "Hey, Maddie. This one's top-notch. You should pay her double." 

Maddie gave me a grin as if to say, "See, I told you it was all innocent." 

Before my shift was over that night, there was a text from Larry. He wanted me to know that I was welcome to wear my school uniform when he arranged to have me babysit. 

So, of course I told Mom all about my day at work. 

"They did what?!" she yelled. "Oh, hell no." 

She paced the living room floor fuming and wringing her hands. 

"I'll kill 'em," she said through clenched teeth. "Or better yet, I'll tell Roman Jenkins and let him kill 'em."

"Please don't. I want to leave him out of this."

"I wouldn't do that. I'm just pissed, that's all."

She kept pacing, but she did stop long enough to grab the remote and turn on the TV to the classic sitcom channel. I watched aimlessly, barely listening. After about fifteen minutes she sat down with me but said nothing. At the next commercial break, she flicked the TV off and turned to face me, grabbing my hands. 

"We have to get them off your back."

"I don't think we can, and I don't want to do that restraining order you talked about a few weeks ago."

"We couldn't do that anyway, thanks to, well, let's just say bad decisions. We couldn't prove any reason to enforce it at this point. But let's keep records from now on, and then we might be able to later." She squeezed my hands. "But that's not what I'm thinking about."

I said nothing, only cocked my head to the side as if the new angle would help me understand. It didn't. 

"I have an idea. Part of the problem is that you're still available. They still see you as unattached and that makes you a target, well, even more of a target than a woman normally would be. They need to know you've moved on without them."

"I don't understand."

"Don't worry. Mama will take care of it all for you."

"The last thing I want to do is start dating. Are you sure we have to do this?"

She let go of my hands, and her face took a darker expression. 

"Don't forget, darling girl, that you brought this on yourself by not listening to me in the first place." She tried to relax but I could tell she was still pissed. I knew it wasn't me she was upset with, but it was me who was convenient and close enough to be a good target, and of course, as the lawyers said, I had form. "Besides, you've already started dating," she continued. "At least in a way. You just need to date people more your own age."

"But Samantha?!"

"Samantha? Where did this come from all of a sudden, young lady? What happened to Mom?"

"I'm sorry. Mom, I meant Mom. I get it. I know it's all my fault for disobeying in the first place, but the last thing I want is to start going out with boys."

She laughed. "Go out with girls then. It's okay. I'm open-minded."

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

"I don't see that you have a choice. The longer you sit around lamenting your lost life the more likely those two bastards will keep bothering you and ultimately either coerce you or trick you into getting flat on your back for them again."

"That's not gonna happen."

"I've heard that before, Joelle. And yet, you still needed to get a pregnancy test."

"I..." Fuck. She had me right where she wanted me. Again. Only this time, it was my own damn fault. 

"You think after last time you'd realize that your mother is wiser than you. After all, you've never had to grow up as a girl in the big, bad world before, have you?"

"No, ma'am," I said, defeated and fully aware of that fact.

"Well, darling, I have, and you need to trust me."

"But I'm not ready to start dating."

"Well, isn't that something? You're not ready to start dating, but you're more than ready to have drunken sex with two old men on a picnic table." 

"I..."

"And, by your own admittance, not tell them you didn't want it. Or am I not remembering your story correctly, darling?"

I shut the hell up. Arguing wasn't getting me anywhere, and I knew it. It was only my pride that made me want to keep pushing even though we both knew it was doomed to fail. 

"Well then, be a good girl, and let me take care of this for you. You just do what you're told and maybe you won't have to learn any more painful lessons."

I sighed deeply. "Yes, ma'am."

"Good girl. Now, let's see. There's always Dean Whitcomb's son. He's cute and he looks strong enough to stand up to your former friends if he needs to protect you. Then there's also Tina's boy, Jarrod. He's a year or two older than you, but that's nothing worth worrying about. And he's going to graduate in a year with his degree in Engineering, so he'd be strong husband material too."

I kept my mouth shut and listened as she went on. She was only trying to drive the point home to me anyway, and she had already established that it was not up for debate. 

"Or, my friend Franke from work, she's got a girl you might already know from school. She's on the student council and she's a lesbian, so that's an option."

She stopped for a moment and tilted my face so that I was gazing into her eyes with my full attention. 

"Or, there is a special place you could go where you wouldn't have to date anyone."

"The research place?"

"Yes, my darling girl. The research place. The only date you would have there would be with a needle, most likely."

I didn't respond. 

"Is that what you'd prefer, Joelle?"

I looked down at the floor, not just defeated, but utterly so.

"No, ma'am, Mom. That's not what I want."

"That's my good girl," she said. 

Chapter 3: New Friends

Maddie gave me the full weekend off two weeks later, and that's when Mom made her move. She arranged not just one, but two dates for me—both Friday and Saturday night—and even took me shopping for outfits she considered cute and trendy but not slutty. 

In the end, on Friday night, Jarrod French, Tina's son, picked me up and treated me like some kind of princess from the get-go. He wore slacks and a dress shirt, and he told me how pretty I looked in the pink, knee-length, spaghetti-strapped dress Mom had picked out for me. He got the door both on the way out of the house and getting into his Lexus.

"Listen," he said when we were finally alone together in the car. "I really appreciate you doing this. I know it was both of our moms' idea, and you probably don't like having to go on a blind date any more than I do, but for what it's worth, I hope you realize that you're way out of my league."

I noticed him staring at my knees where the skirt of my dress had ridden up when I sat down. I didn't blame him. Even the man who still tried to stay alive in my memories acknowledged that they were one of my best features. I think it was one of the reasons I was so drawn to hose and tights. I was wearing sheer white ones on the date and pink flats with an ankle strap, something else Mom and insisted I wear. 

He noticed that I had caught him looking, and he backpedaled and changed the subject. 

"Do you like Italian?" he asked. 

"I love Italian."

"I hope you're hungry. I've got reservations at D'Amato."

"I hope you brought the platinum card then. I hear that place is expensive."

He nodded. "The owner's son is a good friend of mine at university, so I get a discount as long as I tutor my friend in Math."

"I might need to get in on that action too. Math isn't my best subject."

"Oh?" he asked. "What university do you go to?"

"The girl's school. Louellen Maitsfield Girls College."

"Oh, cool," he said. "No offense, but I love the uniforms. Sorry if that makes me a creeper."

"Nothing to be sorry about. I think it just makes you a dude."

I figured he was trying to picture what I looked like in the uniform. It was exactly what I'd have been doing in his position. I saved him the effort and embarrassment and pulled up the 'first day photo' Mom had taken and texted to me. "Don't waste your brain cells on it," I said with a smile. "I've got a picture you can drool over if you want to."

"Thanks. You're pretty cool about things, I guess."

"Oh, you'd be surprised."

I laughed, and it relaxed him enough so that he laughed too. 

"Well, anyway, even if I didn't think I'd be looking forward to this, I'm glad I came."

I smiled. A date was still the last place I wanted to be. Well, not the actual last place—that would be the research center for studying the gender virus. But still, it was low on my list of places I'd prefer to be. 

But at least he wasn't some kind of pervert. And I wasn't sure if it was all the new hormones and chemicals flooding through my body and making me more Joelle than I had ever been, or if it was still some holdover of knowing I was pretty and appreciating what that meant in terms of how people treated me, but I felt like, as long as I didn't fuck it up, I might be able to actually enjoy the evening despite the hows and whys that made it happen in the first place. 

And, I had to admit, I'd much rather be with a sweet, maybe a little awkward, boy like Jarrod than have to put up with either Chris or Larry and put on my good little waitress act to keep them happy. 

During dinner, he told me about his college and his plans for after he graduated, and I kept asking him questions so we could avoid talking about me. The way my luck was running, I'd end up blabbing to him that I was a GV-girl and he'd run for the hills when he learned he was actually on a day with a forty-six-year-old man in a cute girl's body. 

But, and as much as I didn't like to think about it, that wasn't exactly true anymore, was it? It had taken almost a month to accept it after my adoption, but with all the time I had spent in my new body, I was adapting to it more than making it adapt to my memories. I didn't just look like a girl. I was a girl. I had a girl's body, and therefore I also had a girl's physiology. I had a girl's chemistry. I had a girl's neurology. Every single physical process that happened inside was governed by the fact that I was a human female of age eighteen. There was no way around it. The only thing about me that was male was my memories. And even those were constantly being filtered through the new female processes and emotions that came with them. 

So maybe I was just starting to feel more comfortable with people my own physical age. Maybe I was growing more open to the patterns and interests that an eighteen-year-old human female would default to and, god forbid, enjoy. 

Even dating. 

I mean, honestly, how much of Joel even existed anymore inside of Joelle? And would he eventually disappear completely?

"What about you?" Jarrod asked, startling me back to the dinner. "Tell me about you. I'm sure you're far more interesting than I am."

"I don't know," I said. "Honestly, I'm kind of at a point where I'm not really sure who I am."

"I think they call that young adulthood, Joelle." He stopped for a moment, then he repeated my name. "Joelle. Hmm. Joelle. That's a really pretty name. Family name?"

"You could say that," I said. "I'm named after a friend of Mom's."

"Cool. It's uncommon. I love names like that. Plus, like I said, it's a pretty name."

"Thanks." I actually felt heat rise to my cheeks and was embarrassed for blushing just because Jarrod had told me my name was pretty. "Maybe that's all I have now," I continued. "I have a pretty name and a pretty face, but after that, I don't know. I feel like there's somebody growing here that I don't know yet."

"Wow." 

"I... I... I'm sorry. That's not what you meant. Now I'm making it weird."

He shook his head. "No, it's fine. I get what you mean. But trust me, with depth like that, you're a lot more than just a pretty face."

I caught myself blushing again. 

"Well, what kind of movies do you like? Surely I can get to know something about you."

I smiled. "Adventure, crime, and horror, actually."

He took me in from the bow in my hair to the tips of my pink flats. 

"That's not at all what I expected."

"Yeah. I'm a bit of a weirdo, I guess."

"It's fine. I like weirdos. They're the best. Besides, I love horror movies. Maybe we can go see one at the theater sometime."

A sudden pause filled up the space between us. 

"Did you just ask me out on another date, Jarrod?"

It was his turn to blush.

"I guess I did. Sorry. It just slipped out."

I laughed, then let it lapse into a smile. "It's cute."

"Just forget I said it, please."

I laughed. I found myself actually a lot more relaxed than I had expected. And the Joelle in me found she liked his attention and awkwardness a lot. 

"So, how 'bout music?"

"Classic rock. I have a friend who is into country, and I guess some of that is okay too, but I like classic rock much better."

"I so would have pegged you a pop princess type."

"And you would have been wrong again, buddy."

"Okay, last category. Favorite foods?"

"Pizza, hamburgers, and Ramen. Real Ramen, not the instant crap."

"Okay," he mused out loud. "Not a salad girl. I'll have to remember that."

"I feel like I just failed some kind of test," I said with a grin.

"On the contrary," Jarrod said. "I might be in love." Then he corrected himself. "Sorry. I shouldn't joke like that. I'm just not very good at this. I don't date a lot. I'm usually busy with school."

"Well, I don't either, to be honest. Between work and classes, I don't get out a lot either."

"Okay, one more, if that's okay?"

I smiled. "Sure."

"How do you feel about bowling?"

My body tensed up as if someone had punched me in the stomach. "I used to enjoy it," I said. "Now, not so much."

"That's too bad. I'm actually a pretty good bowler."

I gave him a sort of weak smile. 

"Now I feel like I'm the one who just failed a test." He grinned. 

"Sorry. Bad memories. Someone I used to know."

"I'm sorry." 

Luckily, our food arrived, so we focused on eating and got a break from basically interviewing each other. After a few minutes of silent munching, I was done with a third of my lasagna and Jarrod had almost finished his chicken parm. 

"Look," he said finally and somewhat softly, "I'm sorry about your friend or whatever. I was actually going to see if you wanted to go bowling or something, but all I did was upset you. I really didn't mean to do that."

"It's not your fault," I said. "You couldn't have known. And if you really like bowling, then yeah, maybe we could go. Maybe you could help me enjoy it again. Who knows?"

His face lit up with a huge smile.

"Wait?! Did you just accept a second date with me?"

I nodded. "Actually a third. Or did you forget about the movie?"

"Shit," he said. "Really?"

"Don't act so surprised. Don't I seem like I'm having a good time?"

"Wow. Honestly, I didn't know. Like I said, I'm not used to dating. I wouldn't have even done this one except for my mom pushing me into it."

"Well, I guess that's just another thing we have in common. I really didn't come into tonight expecting to follow it up with an encore." 

He laughed. "I like the way you say things. It's weird, but like cool weird."

"I've got an old soul, I guess."

"I like that. An old soul." 

We finished the meal, and he paid, then we went back out to the car. "Do you want to go straight home or maybe get a coffee or custard or something?"

"Jarrod?"

"Yeah?"

"Like I said, I'm not good at this dating thing, so I'm just gonna shoot straight with you. I don't know how to read between the lines like a lot of girls, so, well, there's that. Anyway, I would love to get some custard, but I actually mean get some custard. So if that's a euphemism for going somewhere to make out, then I guess I'm not ready for that."

He raised his hands, palms out, between us. "No, no. I just meant custard. I mean, damn, it's not like I wouldn't like to make out a little sometime, but, shit... I'll shut up now and just drive to the custard shop if that's okay."

I laughed. "So you do want to make out?"

"I..."

I laughed again. "Go ahead."

"Umm... Who wouldn't? You're gorgeous and all the right kinds of mix of weird and sweet."

"Uh-huh?"

"And you're just teasing me, aren't you?"

"Guilty," I said. "But still quite an excellent answer."

"I'm going to have to keep an eye on you, aren't I?"

I grinned. 

"But I really didn't mean it that way. I'm having a lot of fun with you so far, and I just don't want it to be over yet. I know guys aren't supposed to say things like this on a first date, but I like you, or at least I do so far, and..."

"I'm having a lot more fun than I expected to, so sure." Then I remembered the date I was obligated to for the next night. "Umm, but I have to let you know that Mom already set me up on another blind date for tomorrow night, so I don't want you to think I'm the kind of girl who goes out with every boy in town."

He looked disappointed but he forced a smile anyway. "It's okay. I understand."

I punched his arm gently. "But then after that, don't forget we've got the next two already planned. 

His smile took on a far more natural and relaxed curve. 

"But I am obligated for tomorrow. I just wanted you to know."

"I'll try to cope," he said with a laugh. 

"And you'd better fail," I said. "If you know what's good for you."

"And you promise me you won't have as much fun with him as you did with me."

"I'll try," I said, grinning. 

"Well, at least don't get custard with him." 

"I think I can promise that."

"I mean, don't get custard with him," he said, stressing the euphemism this time. 

"Oh. Deal."

Jarrod remained a perfect gentleman all through the date, and when he dropped me back home, five minutes before midnight—my curfew, according to Mom—he walked me to the door. 

"I had a great time," he said. 

"Me too."

We stood quiet for several seconds. 

"Are you going home tonight? I asked. 

"Are you going in tonight?" he asked. 

We laughed together. 

"Or is this the part where we kiss or something? It's been a long time since I've been on a date."

"I don't even know, Joelle. All I know is if I don't leave yet, then it makes me happy."

I laughed. "Sweet, but what a sap." 

He grinned. "Can I call you tomorrow?"

"How 'bout you wait until Sunday?"

"I'll try my best."

I leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. "Let that tide you over for now, buddy," I said. "We'll see about the rest after the movie."

He grinned. "I'll call you Sunday." 

I nodded. 

He smiled all the way to his car. I could tell even though his back was turned. It was just as well since I didn't want him to see how disappointed I was that we had stopped at the kiss.

* * *

I had just gotten out of the shower and was drying my hair on Saturday when Mom entered my bathroom. I've put your outfit for tonight on the bed for you.

"Thanks," I said, a little irritated that I hadn't been allowed to pick out my own date outfit.

"I figured since you're dating closer to your age, I should let you wear something I wouldn't allow you to wear around your old friends. I mean, people your own age have different styles and react differently to things that I might think are too risqué. But I guess as long as you keep being a good girl and doing what you're told, then I can give you a little trust and meet you halfway."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. Just don't let me down, okay, young lady?"

"Sure thing, Mom. I won't."

I was learning one lesson very acutely. As long as I was an obedient daughter, life was easy. As long as I did as I was told, Mom was nice Mom. But if I got out of line, all that could change in a heartbeat. Besides, she had been right again. I did enjoy the date no matter how much I had resisted it at first. Maybe I could trust her more since she had a lifetime of experience to draw on to help me grow from a girl into a woman. 

"By the way," she added. "I was talking with Tina earlier and it sounds like you and Jarrod got on like a house on fire. She said he hasn't stopped talking about you all day."

Her words both embarrassed me and brought a blush to my cheeks. So, I was discovering, being a girl was a constant fight between being embarrassed by too much attention and yet craving that same attention all the more when it came from the right person. 

I was changing every day, it seemed. It dawned on me that I hadn't even thought about the guys in several days. That, I told myself, was maybe the greatest victory I had achieved in my new life as Joelle.

"You don't say," I responded. 

"So you did have fun after all?"

"He was sweet."

"Good. Tina said he already asked you out again and you said yes. I have to admit that was a surprise."

"To me too," I said.

"I bet. Oh," she said, quickly changing the subject. "One other thing, do you work Sunday night at the diner?"

"No, ma'am," I said.

"Good."

"Why?"

"Well, Rosalyn's sitter canceled, and she asked if I knew anyone. Well, I remembered that crazy idea you mentioned about taking babysitting jobs, and—"

"Mom, that wasn't my idea. That was something Mr. Grayson said, and I think he meant it as a way to get me alone again and at his mercy, not because he thought I needed a second job."

Over the past two weeks, I had gotten into the habit, at Mom's insistence, of referring to anyone my former age as Mr. or Ms. or Mrs. It was a good habit, and it showed that I was a respectful young lady, she told me. So, like everything else she wanted of me, it became the way I did it. All the people I had known by their first names now became my elders and were to be treated with the "respect they were due."

"Regardless," she said, basically ignoring me, "she's in a bit of a bind, and I told her you'd be happy to help out this once."

I took a deep breath before responding.

"If you think it's for the best," I said. 

"I do, and it would really help out Mrs. Royce."

Hearing Rosayln's last name gave me a slight moment of freaking out. Rosalyn Royce. Pete Royce's wife. My friend Pete Royce's wife.

"Umm, Mom?"

"Yeah, sweetie?"

"You know she's Pete's wife, right?"

"I do. And you know she's like my best friend from high school, right?"

"Do you think that's safe for me?"

"If I recall, Mr. Royce wasn't involved, was he?"

"No, ma'am."

"And you've been keeping your distance from him, right?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Then everything should be fine. Besides, from what Rosalyn said, he won't even be there that night. That's why she needs the sitter. She has to go do a thing for the Ladies Auxiliary that night."

"I just..."

"One day you sneak out so you can see your old guy friends and now you're scared to even bump into them. My, how things have changed, my timid little Joelle."

"I... I mean..."

"You'll be fine. And if he does get back home, then all you have to do is let him know you're shift is done and call me to pick you up. Easy, peasy."

"If you're sure."

"You'll be fine, my scared little rabbit of a girl, I'm sure of it."

I finished drying my hair. There was no more arguing with her. And as I had learned, it was better to be obedient than obstinate. And as she said, Mr. Royce hadn't taken part in the assault and probably still had no idea it had even happened, so chances were that he would just go along with the flow if we even encountered each other.

On the bed laid out for me was a similar outfit to the one I had worn the night I had snuck out of the house and learned what kind of misogynistic assholes Mr. Grayson and Mr. Severson were. 

Only this one was a navy blue skirt with a faint plaid pattern of similar colors and a powder blue short-sleeved sweater with a scooped top that hinted at but didn't reveal any cleavage. The crowning part of the ensemble, as far as I was concerned anyway, was the sheer navy blue tights and the lace-up brown ankle boots. I couldn't believe how much I was looking forward to wearing the outfit from the moment I saw it on the bed. I had been in cute but far more prim and proper outfits for almost a month, and I was dying to wear something that I felt showed off my figure to its best potential. 

Maybe there was something of a slut in Joelle, or at least those kinds of thoughts made me wonder if it were somehow possible. After all, the evidence wasn't in my favor if I wanted to pretend I was some kind of chaste young lady. 

I had actually responded to Larry and Chris, not realizing it was being manipulated until they admitted it. I had shown off my school uniform pic to Jarrod, and I had wanted, really wanted, to do more than kiss him at the end of our date. And just the idea of showing off my body to tonight's date had me all but gagging for excitement.

"Are you sure, Mom?" I asked, still amazed at the outfit.

"I'm choosing to trust you, honey. Don't let me down."

"I won't. I promise." I hugged her tightly. "Thank you, Mom. Thank you so much."

"Oh my," she said with a laugh. "If I had known letting you show off your cute figure mattered that much to you and would get me hugs, I should have let you do it weeks ago."

When I broke off the hug, I wondered why I reacted so strongly to the change in wardrobe. Maybe there was something intrinsic in the new bodies of GV girls, something that made them proud of their sexuality and ready to explore it. 

All I knew was that I felt far more like me again when I put on the outfit and saw myself in the mirror. I immediately found myself eager to wear it again, only for my upcoming date with Jarrod. 

Still, I had tonight's date to get through first. Dean Whitcomb's son, who was, ironically, named Dean Whitcomb. She had given birth before she got the deanship at the school, so it had become a sort of standing joke on campus. 

Dean was tall and athletic, and he was off at a university in North Dakota, where he had a soccer scholarship. Most likely he was just looking for a little fun while he was back in town for his break in the season. 

He was a lot better looking than Jarrod, but I figured he was also probably more of the type of guy who liked to think of himself as an alpha male, and after what had happened, I really didn't want that kind of attention. Still, Mom had made the arrangements, and I had to follow through. 

I was already looking forward to talking with Jarrod on Sunday though the whole time I was putting my face on and getting my hair curled. 

He picked me up at six-thirty that night and met me at the door with a bouquet of pink roses. I thanked him and he took my hand and led me to his car, an electric blue Miata with the top up. 

"Wow, you're more beautiful than my mom said you were," he said, as he got the door for me and helped me into the car. "I hope you like pink roses. I heard girls get tired of the red ones after a while." 

Considering it was the first bouquet of roses of any color this girl had received, red would have been just as welcome. But pink was fine too. 

Where Jarrod had been awkward and sweet and more than a little unsure of himself, Dean was used to getting attention, particularly from girls, but not so much so that he was an asshole about it or cocky. He just wore it comfortably, that was all. He didn't even apologize for taking a long look at my legs as he climbed into the driver's side of the car. Likewise, I didn't apologize for enjoying the attention. Instead, I crossed them so my more exposed leg faced his side of the car to give him even more to appreciate. 

I waited for him to ask if I liked whatever kind of food he had made reservations for, but he never asked. We just showed up at the fancy seafood place right outside of town, near the county line. He got my door and took my hand again to lead me inside. 

Instead of sitting opposite me, he took the seat on the leather bench next to me and smiled. 

"Seafood, huh?" I asked. 

"Sure. Everybody likes seafood, right? I figured it was the safest bet for a blind date. Of course, had I met you before, I would have picked out something with a better ambiance. Maybe even a more romantic joint with lots of candles. Quiet classical music, you know, that sort of thing."

"Sure, that sort of thing," I repeated. 

It had been several minutes, but I realized he hadn't let go of my hand yet. 

He saw that I noticed, then lifted it to his lips, kissed it, and let me have it back. 

He was staring at my legs again. I blushed, appreciating his enjoyment of them. 

Before I knew it, he was resting his hand on my thigh. Not groping. Not moving it. Just letting it sit there as if he had done the very same thing with a thousand other girls before. His hand was warm, and I felt my mind slip into a world where women liked it when a man knew what he wanted and took a risk. 

"I'll have shrimp and salmon," I said, not even looking at the menu. It was the most expensive item, I knew, thanks to many trips before in my old life. I didn't mind him going for what he wanted, but I was determined that he was going to have to pay to get there. I tried not to think about whether or not that made me some kind of whore, putting my body on display as long as it costs a boy a little something.

"I like a girl with a good appetite," he said. 

"I do like seafood," I said. 

"So, Mother tells me you're new at the academy."

"Yeah. I started a few weeks ago."

"She also tells me you are there on the special scholarship."

"I did get some financial aid, but we're not poor or anything."

He shook his head. "I mean the special scholarship."

I looked at him without understanding. 

"The one for girls who haven't always been girls."

His hand suddenly squeezed my thigh. Shit. He knew I was a GV girl. Was that why he was so into me? Was he one of those guys? One of the ones who 'collected' GV girls? I had read about them in a magazine at the OB-GYN's office. Some guys really fetishized the idea of GV girls and sought them out specifically, preferring them to natural-born women. Was that Dean's kink?

I nodded. "I thought that was supposed to be confidential."

"It's okay. No need to be embarrassed. Most people don't know this but Mother used to be a guy too. It happened when barely anybody knew about the virus. When she got pregnant with me, it kind of surprised all the researchers at the time. I guess because of that, I don't really mind if a girl is a nat or a GV. They're all girls as far as I'm concerned. I just wanted you to know that I knew."

I gave him a weak, sort of uncomfortable smile. "Okay."

He grinned and squeezed my thigh again. Against my better judgment, that was actually helping me relax. 

"I didn't mention it to be creepy. Sorry if that's how it comes off. I just know based on Mother's experience that she had several relationships fall apart before when she felt like she had to keep it a secret and then when she did come clean about it, the guy freaked out and left her."

"Oh," I said.

"So, just in case we actually hit it off, I wanted you to know that I'm totally comfortable with you being a GV. You don't have to worry about that." 

"You mean you're totally comfortable with me being a guy in my forties?"

He laughed. "Not at all. I mean I'm cool with you having once been a guy in your forties. Now you're a beautiful young woman with the best legs I've probably ever seen, and believe me, I'm more than cool with that."

"Oh, I guess that makes sense."

"I keep forgetting you're still new to this. It takes a while to really see yourself as your new self. Maybe even a few years, but eventually, you learn to accept who you are."

"Was it like that for the Dean?"

He nodded. "Absolutely. She told me all about it. How do you think I'm so at ease around it?"

I nodded, not answering. "Well, do you mind keeping it our secret for now, Dean?"

"Totally. Not a problem."

The waiter arrived and he ordered fried flounder, and, after the food arrived, he still hadn't removed his hand from my thigh.

"You're really attached to my leg, aren't you?"

He grinned. "You must not mind because you haven't asked me to move my hand."

"There's another boy I went out with, and I think I like him," I said. 

"Good for you," he said. "Does he know your secret?"

I shook my head.

"Good, that means I still have a shot, I guess."

"I..." 

He leaned into me and cut off my words with an open-mouthed kiss. No tongues, just warm breath meeting warm breath before his lips were gone again.

"You kissed me."

"I did. I notice you didn't stop me."

"You confuse me," I said. It was the most honest sentence I could have ever spoken. "I don't want it, but I find that I like it after you've done it." Another honest collection of words. 

"Have you kissed your other boy yet?"

"Not like that." 

He smiled. "I'm not looking to get married or anything, but I will be home for several weeks, and I would like to see you again."

That damn persistent, amazingly warm hand was still on my thigh.

And then it was gone. He hadn't waited for me to respond. I don't believe he thought he even needed to. I was sure he already knew my answer. It was as if he knew more about me and my new body's way of thinking and feeling and wanting attention than I did. 

We ate and talked about meaningless things like how bad the weather was going to be next week and how busy his practice schedule was at school. Then he dropped fifteen bucks on the table and took my hand again to lead me back to his car.

He didn't tell me where we were going and I didn't ask. He let the top down and even though my hair quickly became a mess, I felt as if I were the most beautiful supermodel in the world. He drove a little recklessly, but I didn't mind as long as he kept his hand on my thigh. 

Why did that feel so goddamn good to me? It was like some kind of aphrodisiac on-switch for my sexuality. A little attention to my legs and my brain dropped from rationality to lizard brain in heat. 

Okay, well maybe not heat, but at least a leaning toward it. 

"So," I said when we were stopped at a red light heading back into town. "You really think I'm beautiful?"

"Anybody with half a brain would think you're beautiful," he said. 

"I feel like you're just telling me what you think I want to hear."

"And I feel like you're just wanting to hear me give you compliments all night."

I laughed. "Maybe not all night. I do have a midnight curfew."

"Sadly, I know." 

Then, just as the light turned green he pulled my face to his and kissed me deeply again, still no tongues. We only broke off the kiss because the car behind honked its horn. He peeled out. 

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"Somewhere where we can kiss some more."

"Oh," I said. "And if I said I didn't want to do that?"

"Then I'd take you home and hope you might be more into it on our next date."

"So, you're asking me out again?"

"I'd be an idiot not to, but no, not yet."

"I don't understand. I thought you wanted—"

"This date isn't over yet, Joelle."

"Oh." 

"So?"

"So what?"

"It's your call. Are we going up to the Pass to kiss some more, or do you want to go home?"

"What if I just wanted to get some coffee?"

"Then we could do that afterward."

"Afterward?"

"After making out."

"Oh."

"You're not used to a girl telling you no, are you?" I asked, not with any anger, but out of genuine curiosity."

"You're always welcome to tell me no. Is that what you want to tell me?" As he spoke I noticed that we were turning onto Old Scratch Road, the last paved road before the dirt road up to the Pass. 

We ended up skipping the coffee. We spent so much time making out that I almost missed my curfew. I felt rotten for giving so much physical attention to Dean after practically forcing Jarrod to keep his hands to himself and just be sweet and nice. But damn it, Dean had twenty years of understanding about GV girls, and he knew things about me I didn't yet know myself. It may have started with a hand on my thigh and his lips on my own, but it didn't end there. Open-mouth kissing quickly turned to deep French kissing. A warm hand on my thigh became a palm slipping beneath my sweater and bra to cup my breast. But, even though I wouldn't have stopped him, he had the self-control I was lacking thanks to his attention, and that's all we did. Deep kissing and a little time at second base. 

I had apparently forgotten what it was like to be young and dating. Kids my age had all the time in the world. We didn't have to rush headlong into a night of wild monkey sex because we never knew if a heart attack might hit us before the week was over. 

And honestly, I was so worked up from just making out that I was exhausted. I mean, had Dean wanted to seduce me, he wouldn't have encountered any resistance. My body ached for it, whether from him knowing his way around a girl's needs or from something the virus had done to make me hypersensitive to sexual stimulation. 

He put the top back up for the drive home, and I fixed my hair and makeup as best I could, but I knew I'd never pass even a cursory inspection if Mom wanted to confront me. 

When we arrived, Dean walked me back to the door, kissed me deeply one more time, holding me tightly to him by the back of my neck, then let go, kissed my cheek, let go of my hand, and returned to the Miata and drove away.

* * *

When Jarrod called on Sunday afternoon, I picked up the call on the second buzz. Before I could start to speak, all the guilt about how I had carried on with Dean made me feel as if I owed him an apology.

"I'm glad you called," I said. 

"I told you I would," he said. 

"I know. I'm just glad, that's all."

I could hear his smile through the phone.

"What are you doing tonight?" he asked. 

"I have to work. I'm sorry." 

"At the diner, right?"

"Not tonight. I'm babysitting for one of Mom's friends." There was no sense in trying to explain that the kid belonged to one of my former best friends too back when I was a grown-ass, adult man. Dean may have been cool with that and not let it get in the way of a little fun on a date, but I figured Jarrod wasn't ready for that kind of news. 

"Oh. Bummer. Dark Souls Below is playing in town, and I was going to see if you wanted to go."

"I'm off Thursday this week. We could go then."

Suddenly I was more than a little excited at the idea of going to a movie with Jarrod. With my dress code a little bit looser, I figured I could really show him how much I liked him and see how he reacted to more of me being on display. Not only that, in the dark of the theater, I wondered how he might react if I took a little initiative with him. 

Besides, it might make me feel less guilty if I gave him some physical attention too. 

"That sounds good. I might drop by the diner and say hi this week if that's okay."

"I don't think Miss Maddie would mind as long as I don't let it interfere with my work."

"I mean, I don't want to monopolize your time, but I figured it might be fun to hang out a little."

"I'd really like that."

As we talked my soul felt like it had been filled with bricks. We had only been out once, but I already felt like I cheated on him. But even that hadn't stopped me from accepting a second date with Dean. Maybe I wasn't as good a girl as I thought I was. 

The good side of all that though was that my mind was completely free from thoughts about all the first-name men I now referred to only as Mr. this or that. Dating boys my own age was definitely helping me refocus my brain in that respect. 

Just be Joelle. Figure out who Joelle was and would be. Focus on that. Figure out when Jarrod and Dean fit into that life. Then there would be no time to dwell on the past, either good or awful. 

"Normally my curfew during the week is eleven, but I bet Mom will cut me some slack as long as she knows it's you."

"You think so?"

"I hope so."

I almost literally heard his smile grow over the phone.

We talked for another thirty minutes, and I found myself lying back on my bed, which had now been made over from a generic guest room bed to what could only be a girl's bed with pastel frills and stuffed animals. I tossed them onto the floor most of the time but didn't mind them too much. I lay down with my knees up and realized I had begun to twirl my fingers through my hair as we talked. God, I was turning into such a girl, I thought, and without having to think about it. It just kept happening, at least as long as I didn't fight it. 

Still, it wasn't so bad. I was cute. I was dating two boys who both liked me a lot, though in different ways. I was relaxed. Finally. It was as if my body rewarded me with peacefulness and contentment as long as I followed its lead and let it rewrite Joel into Joelle. 

And I was increasingly okay with who Joelle was turning out to be. I liked her even. I enjoyed being her, well, except for the guilt about Jarrod, but I could remedy that on Thursday at the movie.

When we finally hung up, I started to get ready for the babysitting gig, and Mom let me pick out my own outfit. Since it wasn't a date, I went for something more conservative. A pretty blue minidress with embroidered flowers along the base of the skirt portion. The top was a soft scoop but not too deep. Since the nights were getting colder, I opted for thick white tights that looked more like long socks than hosiery and I finished off the outfit with a pair of canvas athletic shoes. It was comfortable for taking care of a elementary schooler and a toddler, and if the worst happened and if Mr. Royce showed up, it would put out any signals that I was looking for inappropriate attention. 

Apparently, Mom agreed and told me I was doing a good job of earning her trust and to keep it up. 

Then, about four-thirty, she drove me over to Mrs. Royce's house. 

Mrs. Royce seemed surprised to find that I no longer owned a car, and asked about it. 

“I had to sell it right after I caught the virus,” I told her, since, being Mr. Royce's wife, she already knew about my situation. “It was one of the last things I was able to sell before...” I caught myself about to say Samantha and corrected myself before I continued. “Before Mom adopted me.”

“Sorry to hear that. I know you loved that car.”

“It was a nice Camaro, but after I got let go, I didn't really have a choice.”

Mom stayed about fifteen minutes to chat with her friend then left. After she was gone, Mrs. Royce sat down with me in the living room. 

“Listen, I'm trusting your mom on this, and honestly, if I weren't in such a bind, I still might not do this. But she assures me you're a different person now than the guy you used to be. I hope she's right because I don't have an option to find anybody else this late.”

I nodded along, feeling a little bit hurt at her words, but then I had pretty much ignored her back then and was also trying to get Mr. Royce to go out and do stuff with the guys, so from her perspective, Joel had never been very responsible.

“I promise, Mrs. Royce. She's right. I'm a different person. It wasn't easy, but I am. I'm just trying to be the best Joelle I can be now. I mean, it's not like I have a choice or anything, but even more than that, I feel different now. I don't feel like that same guy anymore.”

She looked as if she were forcing her face to agree with me. 

“That's what Samantha said, and even if I still don't quite trust you, I trust her. So don't let me down, okay? You do this right for me, and you'll always have first choice if I need a sitter, okay?”

“Yes, ma'am,” I said, still nodding. 

“By the way, I notice you haven't been out with Pete and the guys in several weeks, or if you have, he hasn't mentioned it.”

“I haven't. Mom and I figured it wasn't right for the new me to hang out with folks so much older, regardless of how long the old me had known them. It just didn't look right, and it wasn't fair to them to force them to hang out with someone my age.”

“I can see that. And that's probably the best choice even if it was a difficult one.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Not only that, but it makes me feel a lot better knowing my husband isn't drinking with some girl half his age who, let's be honest, doesn't have wrinkles or love handles. The last thing I needed was having to worry about him thinking about you instead of me.”

“I'm sorry, Mrs. Royce. I never even thought about that.”

“Well, what's done is done, and you seem to be making better choices now, so let's just put it all behind us. Besides, Joel is gone, and I might end up liking Joelle a whole lot more. But let's just take it one day at a time, okay?”

“Yes, ma'am.” 

She grinned at me. “You're certainly more polite than your former self. That's something.”

“I'm so sorry, Mrs. Royce. I never realized I was such a jerk to you.”

“Most guys don't, Joelle, not until someone tells them, and even after that, half the time they don't believe it. It's just guys being guys.”

I wanted to be able to tell her just how well and how personally I knew the truth of what she said now. But there was no reason to burden her with that secret anymore than sharing it with Mr. Jenkins.

“Anyway,” she said. “As much as I'd love to chat about all your changes and really get to know you better,” she continued, checking her smartwatch, “I really need to hurry. If this goes well tonight, the Ladies Auxiliary will be able to get enough donations to finally update our Women's Center with new equipment.”

“Good luck, with that,” I said. 

“Thanks. Oh, I stuck forty bucks on the fridge under the magnet if the kids want to order pizza. Or, if you feel like cooking something for them, I have plenty of cans of spaghetti or even the little toaster pizzas.”

“I could do that.” I got an idea that might help apologize for all the shit I had put her through without realizing it. “Or, if you don't mind me fixing something else, as long as I clean up the dishes too, I mean, I'd be happy to make them something a little more filling.”

She laughed. “You fix them a real meal, and they'll think they've died and gone to heaven, Joelle, but sure. Knock yourself out. But don't feel obligated. I figure you probably have homework or something to do once you get Tony down. April won't really bother you much, just play games on her tablet.”

I nodded. “I'll see what I can do, as long as you don't mind.”

“I appreciate it, but like I said, don't feel obligated. The regular sitter always just orders pizza. Between you and me, I think she pockets the difference and just tells me it was used for the tip, but the kids like her, so...”

I smiled. 

“Thanks for giving me a chance, Mrs. Royce. I won't let you down.”

“It won't be me you're letting down, honey. It'll be Samantha—I mean, it'll be your mom.”

“Right.”

After that, she disappeared upstairs for a few minutes and returned with her hair done up in a tight black bun and wearing a really gorgeous black dress and a pair of patent leather pumps. 

“Wow, you look great,” I said as she grabbed her purse from the table in the foyer. 

“Thanks. Tell Peter how great I look,” she said. “Maybe he'll believe it coming from you.”

I just smiled. No need to make her feel worse. Sure, she was older, but she was still very pretty in a matronly way even if the maidenly way had disappeared years ago. Pete, Mr. Royce, was an idiot if he couldn't still see how lucky he was. 

“Although,” she said quickly. “Pete's out bowling with the guys. It is a Sunday night, after all.” Her smile dropped as she spoke. “So I don't expect you to see him tonight. Regardless, he knows you're here with the kids, so if there's a more minor issue, call him. If it's major, call me.”

“Yes, ma'am. I understand.”

“Good.” She grabbed her keys off the table and headed toward the front door. “Have fun. The kids are great. I'm sure they'll be good for you.”

Then she left, and I went to the foot of the stairs and called up. “Tony! April! It's just me, Joelle. I'm coming up. You guys need anything?”

No response, so I went on up. First I checked on Tony. He was on the floor in his bedroom playing with what looked to be large Lego cars. “Hey, buddy,” I said. “Having fun?”

“Cars,” he said, holding one up toward me.

“I see. Yeah, they are cars.”

“Play cars,” he said. 

“In a minute, okay. I need to check on April first.”

But April's voice was right behind me. “I'm right here.” She was holding a tablet at her side. “Where's Tabitha?”

“Who's Tabitha? One of your stuffed animals?”

She looked at me as if I were the world's biggest idiot. “My normal babysitter.”

I gave her a wry smile. “Don't know, sweetheart. I guess she was busy or something. But I'm here. My name is Joelle.”

“I know. Mom told us your name. She said you know my daddy.”

I nodded. “A little bit. Is he a good daddy?”

She gave me a glance that told me it was the stupidest question she'd ever heard. “He's my dad. Of course, he's a good daddy.” 

“Well, then,” I said. “You're a very lucky girl. Not everybody has a good daddy.”

“Did you have a good daddy?”

I nodded. “I think so.”

Of course, I was thinking about the man I used to be. Joel would have been a horrible daddy, and Samantha had been right to leave him when she lost the baby. I couldn't even imagine the god-awful mess I would have made as a daddy if we had stayed together to try again.

“He goes bowling a lot though. Sometimes he takes me. Don't tell him, but I don't like to go bowling. I'd rather play Monopoly. It's a better game than bowling.”

“I like Monopoly.”

Her face lit up a bit. 

“Want to get it? I'll play with you.”

“Play cars,” said Tony. “Cars room room.”

“He can't say 'vroom vroom.'” April explained. 

I sat on the floor with Tony and let him tell me about his cars and April brought in a brand-new-looking box of Monopoly.

“Wow, is this new?” I asked. 

She shook her head. Obviously, they didn't play together as a family much, I guessed. Funny how that kind of thing only managed to bother me now. Before the virus, I would have never given it a second thought.

I was a bigger asshole than I had ever imagined. 

So we all sat on the floor, and I split my time between cars and trying to gracefully lose all the toy money in the world to April. After about an hour and a half, she told me she was hungry.

“What do you want for dinner?” I asked. “What's your favorite food?”

“Popcorn,” she said. 

“Popcorn,” Tony repeated. 

“I mean for dinner.”

“Not pizza. I'm tired of pizza.”

“That's good to know. If I could make you any dinner, what would you want?”

She scrunched up her face, obviously really thinking hard about it.

“Spaghetti,” she said. 

“Like the stuff in the cans?”

She shook her head. 

“Like the spaghetti in the restaurant.”

I clasped my hands together. “All right then, sweetheart. Spaghetti it is.” 

I picked up Tony to carry him downstairs. She started to gather up the Monopoly board, but I asked her to leave it and we could finish after dinner if she wanted to. 

“Is that okay?” she asked. 

“Tonight it is, if that's what you want, April.” 

“Yay!” 

She followed me downstairs and I put Tony on the floor in the kitchen and gave him two of his cars. He went right back to the 'room room' as if he had never stopped.

April went to the pantry and brought me two cans of store-brand spaghetti. 

I shook my head and told her, “I thought you wanted real restaurant spaghetti.”

“Can you make that?”

I nodded. “I can.” 

“Mommy makes it too sometimes.”

“Well, I'm sure mine won't be as good as your Mommy's, but I'll do my best.”

“Yay!” she said.

I let April help me with the meal even though she made more mess than help, but she seemed to enjoy it. 

After dinner, I took Tony upstairs and let him rest in his crib while April and I finished the game. Then I told her to get ready for bed, and I'd read her a story if she wanted. She wanted, of course, and so once she was dressed in her pajamas, she brought me the book she wanted, and I was surprised to find it was one about the Super Hero Girls. As a former comic book collector myself until I had to sell it too after the virus cost me my job and salary, I was more than a little interested in the story myself, and I read a little longer than I had intended.

April kissed me on the cheek and lay down, then I went to check on Tony, who was already asleep. I checked my watch. Barely eight-thirty. Plenty of time for the dishes. I was heading downstairs when the phone in my palm buzzed. I would have to look into dresses with pockets if I wanted to avoid carrying a purse.

I answered my cell phone to see that it was Mrs. Royce calling.”

“Is everything okay?” I asked. 

“I was about to ask you the same thing. Are the kids being good for you?”

“Absolutely. They both went to bed with no problems. Tony and I played cars and April wanted to play Monopoly, and I let her help me make spaghetti.” 

I didn't mention that she said it was better than her mom's, but I had enjoyed hearing her tell me that.

“Then I read her a story and she just lay down. I'll check on her again in a few minutes after I clean up the dishes and wipe down the kitchen.”

“You're kidding me.”

“No. They were great. No problems at all.”

“No, I mean you did all that with them?”

“Sure. Isn't that what I'm supposed to do?”

She laughed. “I keep forgetting you didn't grow up as a girl. Mostly babysitters just watch TV and check messages on their social media accounts.”

“Well,” I said, “thanks to the virus, I stay off social media, and I actually like board games, so it was fun.”

“Good. I'm glad you had fun.”

“Thanks for trusting me. Like I said, I'm trying to be a new person. God knows I'm learning how I need to be. Apparently, I wasn't as good a person as I thought I was before.”

“No. I didn't mean to come at you so hard. Joel was fine. He was just oblivious like a lot of guys, that's all.”

“Well, still. I feel like I've got a long way to go, Mrs. Royce, so thanks anyway.”

“Hey, listen. The actual reason I'm calling is that this thing is running longer than planned, thanks to the caterer arriving an hour late. So, would you mind staying an extra hour. With the kids asleep, I'm sure it'll be easy work, and I'll pay you for the extra time of course.”

I laughed. “Sure. I might even watch TV and open up a Snapchat account.”

She laughed right back at me. “Don't get carried away, Joelle. Baby steps.”

“Seriously though, I don't mind at all.”

“Thanks. I'll clear it with your mom, and if she doesn't mind, I can have Pete drive you home after I get back. I figured you two might enjoy catching up.”

I didn't respond quickly, so she added, “I mean if you want to. If not, I can take you home when I get there since it'll be later and your mom might not want to get out of bed since she's not much of a night owl.”

I felt my chest get tighter, but I kept a smile in my voice. “It'll be fine. As long as Mr. Royce doesn't mind. I just don't want to make things weird, that's all.”

“He'll be fine for just one night. And if he isn't I'll hit him with a rolling pin. How's that sound?”

“I'm sure it'll be fine. I do miss hearing about the boat.”

“God, that boat. I'm glad you enjoy hearing about it because I'm about tired of listening.” She laughed. 

She told me thank you again and hung up. I was just putting my phone back in my pocket when it dinged to let me know I had a message.

I checked and it was Jarrod wanting to know how my evening was going. My tension lighted as I read it, so I texted him back that everything was groovy. So he sent a smiley face and called me a weirdo. Then I asked him how long he was going to be up.

I barely made it to the kitchen sink before he called me. 

“I assume you wanted to talk. That's why you mentioned it.”

“I didn't know mind reader was among your list of talents,” I said. 

“I like to keep that on the DL until I spring it on a girl.”

“Don't want to run them off thinking they can't get one over on you, huh?”

“Oh,” he said. “I'm pretty sure you know exactly what I'm thinking about.”

“I hope you mean who you're thinking about.”

“Yeah, that. Sorry, I read minds but not pronouns. I'm going into engineering, remember.”

I laughed, feeling so much better at just hearing his voice. Of course, the guilt started to rise up too, but I reminded myself that come Thursday, even that would be under control.

“You don't have to go, do you?” he asked. 

“Nah. The kids are both in bed, and I'm just about to clean the dishes I got dirty making dinner for them.”

“I thought babysitters just ordered pizza.”

“Damn, I really ought to watch more babysitter movies,” I said with a laugh. 

After that, I put the phone on the counter and started on the dishes. Jarrod told me all about his day, how he hoped I got scared when we saw the movie, how I just might jump right into his lap, and how that would be just fine with him. 

We laughed together, and I told him about how my night babysitting had gone and how I hoped the kids liked me because I thought I might actually like to do it again if Mrs. Royce wanted me back, that is. 

He asked me about work and what time would be best to drop by the diner so he didn't interfere with the busiest part of my shift, and he was telling me how much he was looking forward to it when I heard the door open. I assumed it was Mrs. Royce, so I finished drying the last of the dishes and kept talking, letting Jarrod know I would have to go soon so I could get a last look at the sleeping kids before getting a ride home.

He was busy telling me that he couldn't wait to see me at work later this week when I noticed Mr. Royce enter the kitchen. 

“Wow, dishes too?” he asked. “Rosalyn told me you were watching the kids tonight but she didn't mention you were cleaning up the kitchen too.” 

“Well,” I said, “since I'm the one that made the mess fixing dinner for April and Tony, I figured I needed to clean up my dirty dishes.”

“It's good to see you again, Joelle,” he said, and he sounded sincere. “It's been too long.”

Another voice spoke, sliding around the open doorway of the kitchen. “It's been way too long. When ol' Pete here mentioned you were his sitter tonight, I figured I just had to come and visit, especially since it was my idea for you to get into babysitting, if you remember.”

Shit. It was Mr. Grayson, Larry. That asshole had talked Mr. Royce. into letting him drop by to see me, probably playing up some lie so he wouldn't think anything was wrong.

“I've gotta go, Jarrod,” I said. “The boss just showed up.”

“Later, Joelle. Can't wait to see you.”

And then the call disappeared from the phone screen.

Mr. Royce walked up to me and gave me a big hug. “Damn, you're wet,” he said.

“From the dishes,” I responded even as I saw the dirty-minded smirk cross Mr. Grayson's lips. 

“From the dishes,” Mr. Grayson repeated, then he walked over and waited for Mr. Royce to release me from the hug. 

He did, and that's when Larry the Lecher went in for the attack. I say attack because he gripped me in a bear hug and squeezed me so tightly that I couldn't help but have my boobs smash almost flat against the lower part of his chest. He held on while he looked down at me. 

“Aren't you a sight for sore eyes, Jolene?” he said. 

“It's Joelle, Mr. Grayson.”

“Oh, don't I know it, little lady.” He let me out of the hug and gave me a spin before I could stop him. “Here, let's get a good look at you. I just about forgot what you look like.”

“It's good to see you again too, Mr. Royce,” I said. 

“How were the kids?” It was obvious that Mr. Royce was going to do his best and treat me the way his wife had probably asked him to. No doubt she had explained to him that the new me was determined not to be the old me and that whether or not it was my choice, it was just the way things had to be.

“They are perfect,” I said, keeping my distance from Mr. Grayson and remaining close to Mr. Royce.”

“So, Jolene,” the asshole said. “What's with all the Mr. Grayson and Mr. Royce bullshit? What happened to Larry and Pete?” He laughed. “I mean, it's cute and all, but isn't that just more of Samantha's bullshit rules? You don't have to do that shit when it's just us, you know.”

Mr. Royce punched him lightly on the shoulder. “Don't give her a hard time, Larry. Do you know how hard it is to find a good sitter? And if Joelle wants to make a fresh start, don't you think we owe it to her as her friends to support her in that?”

Oh my god. I could have hugged him again. I didn't, of course, but I sure could have. 

“Sure, sure. It's just weird, that's all.”

“The poor kid is half our age, Larry. You don't think she wants to hang out with old men like us all the time, do you?”

“I guess not,” he said. 

Then Mr. Royce excused himself to go upstairs and peek in on the kids, leaving me alone with the asshole. My chest grew tight and I tried not to clench my hands into fists. 

“So,” he asked. “Who's that you were talking to on the phone, you're new boyfriend?”

“A guy named Jarrod. And yes, I went out with him. It wasn't my idea, but he's nice.”

“Don't you believe it, Jolene? A lot of guys can pretend to be nice to make time with a cute girl. Not everybody can be honest about it what it is they really want from a cute girl—just to get into their pants.” 

I didn't take the bait. All I said was that my name was Joelle, and I would appreciate it if he would use that instead of calling me the name of a woman who wrecked marriages in a country song.

He smirked.

“Sure thing, Joelle.”

“Thank you, Mr. Grayson.” 

“But I'll make a deal with you. I'll call you Joelle like you want, but you have to call me Mr. Larry instead of Mr. Grayson. That sound okay to you, sweetheart?”

I didn't think it was possible, but my chest got even tighter and my breathing grew short and shallow. I actually started to think I might pass out. 

But luckily, Mr. Royce's footsteps thudded on the stairs, and when he returned to the kitchen, he was holding April in his arms. She had her head on his shoulder.

“Somebody asked for you,” he said. “She wanted to tell you goodbye before you left.”

I walked to her and leaned in so she could get a better look at me. “Hey, sweetheart,” I said. “You didn't have to do that. I was going to go upstairs before I left.”

“Thank you for playing Monopoly with me.”

“Anytime, April. You just tell me when.”

Then her dad carried her back upstairs. When the sound of footsteps on the stairs faded, the asshole looked at me as if he couldn't believe what he just saw.

“Did you really fucking babysit for Pete's brats?” he asked. 

I nodded. “I did, Mr. Larry.” The name tasted like dogshit in my mouth, but fuck me I said it. “They're sweet kids.”

“They're fucking brats,” he said. “I can't believe it. I just can't fucking believe it.”

“I like them. They're pretty cool if you get to know them.”

“Maybe I will have to actually hire you to take care of my brats during one of my weekends with them so I can go out on a date.” He shook his head. “If you love babysitting so fucking much.”

“I'm learning to try new things, sir,” I said. 

He looked like he wanted to make a snide, perverse comment, but Mr. Royce returned and he stopped.

“Well, Joelle, it was good to see you again. And damned if you don't get cuter each time I see you. Don't be such a stranger, okay?”

“Yes, sir,” I said. 

“Anyway, Pete, I need to go. I don't mind giving her a ride home and saving you or Ros a trip.”

God how I wanted to tell Mr. Royce every goddamn detail of what that asshole had done to me, but I couldn't. 

Luckily, the door opened again, and Mrs. Royce entered the house with a cheery, sing-song “Pete, is that Larry with you?”

“We're in here in the kitchen. You won't believe how clean it is, Rosalyn.”

“Oh my god, thank you so much,” she said when she noticed how the counters sparkled. 

“I'm sorry. I got carried away and did it all, not just my dishes.”

“Don't apologize. Get carried away anytime. Weekends are best since I hate doing housework on the weekends.”

I forced a smile so no one but me and the asshole needed to know about the tension between us.

“Oh,” I added. “I put the leftover spaghetti in one of your Tupperware bowls. There should be plenty for the kids for tomorrow and probably even Tuesday. Or for Mr. Royce or you if you want to take it for work.”

Mr. Royce laughed. “Shit, honey, can we keep her?”

“You wish, you old man, but no.” She turned to me. “If you want to get your stuff, I'll take you home now.” She shoved a wad of bills into my hand. “There's a little extra for the kitchen too.”

“You don't have to do that.”

“I know. But consider it an apology if it helps.”

I nodded. “Yes, ma'am.”

I gathered my purse and put on my shoes again and waited for her at the door.

She was telling 'Mr. Larry' that if he didn't mind moving his car so she could get out...” 

He grumbled something about how he needed to go anyway and excused himself. When he backed his truck out of the driveway, Mrs. Royce and I got in her car. I put on my seatbelt as she started the engine. 

“Are you okay, Joelle?” she asked. “Larry didn't say anything or do anything to you, did he?”

I shook my head. 

“It's okay. You can tell me. I don't like that bastard anyway. I wish Pete would stop hanging out with him, but they've known each other since high school. 

“We all played football together,” I said. “You know, when...”

“God, I forgot you were on the team too. Wow. I guess it has been a long time.” She wrinkled up her face in thought for a moment. “Still think he's an asshole though. And definitely not a good influence on Pete.” Then she stopped and softened her tone. “I'm sorry. Can't believe I'm just going off on him and here he is one of your oldest friends.”

I shook my head. “He was Joel's friend. But he makes Joelle more than a little uncomfortable.” 

“Life's different in women's shoes, huh?”

“So I'm learning.”

“Well, honey, you don't worry about him. Between your mom and me, 

you don't have to worry about ever being alone with him.”

I started to cry. I couldn't believe it. Not in front of Mrs. Royce too. “I'm sorry. Thank you.” 

“Overly emotional?”

“Past few days, yes, ma'am.”

“Cramps.”

“A few.”

“Is this your first period, sweetie?”

Oh shit. I hadn't even remotely considered that as a girl now, I would have monthly periods. Of course, it had been a few months, and I hadn't had one yet, but at this point I figured I should believe that Mrs. Royce knew more about the subject than I did. 

“I think the ShopMart is open until midnight. Let me help you get a few things together.”

“Shit,” I said. 

She laughed. 

“Please don't tell my mom I said that. She doesn't allow me to use vulgar words anymore.”

“Honey,” she said. “Don't even worry about it. You should hear some of the crazy shit she says when her period hits. She'd make a sailor blush.”

“Thank you,” I said. 

“Just glad we caught it before you gushed your first tidal wave of blood.” 

Chapter 4: Getting to Know... Me...

I ended up calling out of work because my cramps were so bad, so Jarrod called to let me know he was disappointed that he wouldn't be able to see me at work. I had no sooner hung up with him when I received a call from Dean. 

“First period, huh?”

“Yeah. I've been a girl for months but didn't have a period until just this week. Is that normal for a girl like me?”

“Can I ask you a question, an embarrassing one?”

“I guess so.”

“How long ago did you lose your female virginity?”

“What?!”

“I said it was an embarrassing one, but I'm not just being a creep. I'm asking for a reason.”

“Four weeks ago.” 

“That tracks.”

“What tracks?”

For GV girls, as long as they're virgins, they don't have periods. It's like they haven't activated their membership in the girl club yet. There's apparently a science to it, but don't ask me.”

“I really didn't want you to know I wasn't a virgin.”

“Why?  Did you think I only went out with you because I wanted to pop your VG cherry? Or do you think now that I know, I'm just going to pressure you to have sex with me  constantly because I think you're some kind of slut?”

I took a deep breath.

“Well?”

“Don't you want to?”

“Well, hell yeah, of course I want to. Does that mean I'm going to take advantage of you? Fuck no. What the hell kind of person do you think I am?”

“The kind who would keep his hand on a girl's leg all through dinner without asking if it was okay.”

“Was it okay?”

“You know it was.”

“See, I asked. You answered. Are we cool now?”

“How am I supposed to respond to that?” I asked. “And now, I can't get the thought of you knowing I've been fucked before out of my head.” 

“Wow, you've got a filthy mouth sometimes, Joelle.”

“Shut up. You know what I mean.” 

“Tell you what. Why don't you take all that energy and throw it toward your other boyfriend? I assume you're still going out with him too even if he doesn't know about the virus.”

I didn't respond for several seconds. “Well... I... I mean... Is that okay with you? I don't want you to think I'm some kind of tramp would would cheat on the guy she's going out with.”

“Have I ever even said we're official or even exclusive? I don't remember getting matching tattoos or anything.”

“I guess not.”

“Then don't worry about it. I like spending time with you. And I really like kissing you and making out. I'm not trying to get married.” 

“Then you don't mind if...”

“Does he?”

“I don't know. We don't talk about it.” 

“Well, maybe you should.”

“I don't think he'd take it as well as you are.”

“Then you definitely should talk with him about it.” 

“Shit, I was afraid you might say that.” 

“Listen, just be honest. If you want to go out with both of us, let him know. Hell, you can let him know that I won't even be an issue in two weeks because I'll be back at college. Besides, it sounds like you're trying to kick off a new life now, so you need to do what's best for you. Not for me and not for this other dude.”

“Oh.”

“Don't sound so disappointed. I'll be back during the Summer.”

“It's not...”

“Sure it's not. Just keep telling yourself that.”

“Oh god, you're awful, Dean.” 

“And you love it.” 

“Maybe a little.”

“Fair. Listen, about the period. Don't worry about it. And especially don't worry what anyone, even me or your other boyfriend, thinks about the fact that you've had sex and you're not a virgin anymore. It's none of our fucking business. I only asked because I wanted to answer your question about your Aunt Flo.”

“My Aunt who?” I asked, then got the joke. “Oh, Aunt Flow. With a 'w.' Not like the woman in the insurance commercials.”

He laughed. 

“Trust me,” he continued. “That won't be the last euphemism you hear for your period.” 

“Great. I can hardly wait.” 

He laughed again. 

“You know, you may think I just like you for your body and stuff, but I have to say, I really get a kick out of just talking with you. For a girl who used to be a forty-something-year-old dude, you're a lot cooler than any other GV I've dated.”

“Just the GVs?”

“Well, considering none of my other girlfriends used to be old dudes, so yeah, just the GVs.”

“Asshole,” I said with a laugh. “Wait, did you just call me your girlfriend?”

He laughed again. “I hear it's more polite than calling a girl your bitch.”

“Be serious, Dean. Do you consider me your girlfriend?”

“Sure. Not exclusive, because I'm not going to ask you to do that to the other guy.”

“Jarrod.”

“Yeah, Jarrod. But sure. Even if you're seeing another dude, you're the only girl I'm going out with now, so that makes you my girlfriend, I suppose.”

“Wow, I've never been anyone's girlfriend before.”

“Not even the dude you lost your virginity to?”

I could tell that he immediately realized he'd taken one step too far. 

“Look, I'm sorry. I said it was none of my business and I meant it.”

“It's all cool,” I said, feeling the rock in the pit of my stomach. “Mom's calling me anyway,” I lied. “I need to run.”

“Are you mad?” he asked. “You're mad, aren't you? Shit. Sometimes I can be a real asshole.”

“It's okay. I need to go though. That's all.”

“I'll call you later. I'll send lots of flowers that say sorry I was such an asshole and I don't deserve you.”

“Sure. I like flowers. I didn't think I did, but I guess I learned something new about myself.”

“You sure you're not mad?”

“I'm hanging up now.” I waited but didn't hang up yet. “And I'll be looking for those flowers only because you really don't deserve me.”

Then I ended the call.

Only to have Jarrod ring in. I  pressed the green circle and said, “Grand Central Station. Joelle speaking.” 

“What? Oh. Busy today?”

“Just the phone keeps ringing.” 

“That other guy?”

I didn't answer. 

“It's okay. I told you that you were way out of my league, didn't I?”

“I feel bad about missing work, but I think I should have the cramps under control by Thursday if you still want to take me to the movie.”

“Try and stop me,” he said. “Anyway, I felt bad for you, and I wanted to come by and bring you something, if you don't think you're mom would mind me dropping by.”

“Considering she set up the blind date, I think she'd be doing cartwheels on the lawn if a particular boy dropped by.”

“That might be worth taking a look at.”

“Or you could visit with me instead.”

“Even better. I'll see you in a little bit.”

“That's all you called for?” 

“Sure. I'd rather talk in person. That way I can look at you and remind myself how lucky I am.”

“Now who's out of who's league?”

“Oh,” he said. “Trust me it's still you out of my league.” There was a long pause. “Sorry,” he added eventually. “I was trying to think up a cute thing to say but it's like my brain turned into pudding all of a sudden.” 

“Hope that doesn't happen when you design a skyscraper.”

He laughed. “Then I better not keep any photos of you at my drafting table.”

“Are telling me I'm bad for your brain?”

“Well, you can be very distracting.”

“Aren't you just the sweetest boy ever?”

“Don't spread that around. I might get a reputation.”

“Too bad. You're mine already. Let 'em try to take you.”

I could hear his brain turn to pudding again, even over the phone.

“Mush again?”

“Well, you can't just claim a guy all on your own and expect him to ignore it.”

“Aren't you?”

“What?”

“Mine already.”

“As long as you are too dumb to realize you deserve so much better, absolutely.”

“What are you bringing me?”

“What?”

“You said you wanted to bring me something.”

“It's a surprise, silly,” he said. 

“I like surprises,” I said. “Maybe I'll give you one too when you get here.”

There went the pudding brain again. Sometimes it was just too easy.

I grabbed a quick shower after we hung up, and picked out something sweet but short, something I figured would be sure to dazzle the poor boy since I loved the fact that he saw me as the kind of girl who turned his head to mush. It was okay. He kind of did the same thing to my heart. 

I caught myself smiling in the mirror as I checked out my outfit. A pair of black tights and a pair of denim shorts. I also chose a green camisole and a Ramones t-shirt that hung off my shoulder. Cute, even sexy, but not slutty since the shorts reached to just below my fingertips and neither the cami nor the t-shirt showed any cleavage. 

Since we'd be in the house the whole time, I didn't bother with shoes. 

I was sitting downstairs on the sofa when he rang the doorbell. I hopped up and opened the door. 

He had on jeans and a golf shirt, very country club casual, but it fit him. 

He was more focused on my outfit though and I wondered if I might have to push his eyes back into their sockets and return his jaw from the floor. 

“Wow,” he said. 

“You keep having that reaction every time you see me and I might just have to keep you around.”

“You're teasing me again.”

“I am. You're getting very good at noticing that, aren't you?”

“For a girl who said she didn't go out a lot, you're very skilled at flirting.”

I heard Mom laugh from the living room. 

“Hey, Mom, remember this is your fault.”

She laughed loudly again. 

“Are you guys coming into the house or just going to flirt at each other and embarrass yourselves in the foyer?”

“Actually, I'm not going anywhere until his strange handsome boy in my doorway delivers a present he promised.”

At that, he said, “Oh. Sorry. I totally forgot even though it's right here.” He pulled his hand from behind his back and handed me a gift bag filled with gift tissue. 

“And what's this?” I asked. 

“It's not much, but I figured it might help you pass the time while you're home.”

I ripped the tissue from the bag and noticed a Blue-Ray inside. I took it out and read the cover.

“You're kidding. I thought this was out of print.”

“It is. Found it on eBay and ordered it right after our date.”

“What is it?” Mom asked from the living room.

“The original European cut of Jukebox Ghouls from the sixties.”

“It's even got the documentary by the Dubloon Film Committee and all three original trailers from the UK.”

“That's like the coolest thing ever,” I said and I stepped right into him and wrapped my arms around his waist. Then before I realized what I was doing, I kissed him smack on the lips.”

“Whoa,” he said. 

“Even I heard that, Joelle,” Mom called.

“Umm. Sorry?” 

He shook his head. “Don't apologize. In fact, if you want to, just wait here until I find another present just as good.”

I grabbed his shirt and pulled him inside the house. 

Mom's voice was closer now, and when I turned around, I saw her standing at the base of the stairs. “Well, if you two gross-outs want to watch that, you go right ahead, but I'm going to find something more civilized upstairs.” Then she turned to me. “Be good.” Then she added, “Both of you.” 

I grabbed Jarrod by the hand and practically dragged him into the living room. He got the movie ready while I went to the kitchen to microwave some popcorn with extra butter. I only got one big bowl so we'd have to sit close together.

“Coolest surprise ever,” I said as I took a seat beside him on the couch. 

“I thought you'd love it.” 

“Oh, I do. I really do. How do you already know me so well?”

“Maybe two hours a night on the phone has something to do with that.”

“Maybe. Or maybe it's the mind-reading thing you mentioned earlier.”

He started the movie and I got even closer so that our shoulders were touching. While the trailers were playing, he asked, “And where's my surprise? Not that the kiss wasn't plenty.”

I took the remote from him and paused the movie. Then I pulled his face to mine. 

“I've been wanting to do this since our date,” I said, and I pressed my lips against his, taking charge of the kiss and opening his mouth with my own. Then I touched his tongue with the tip of mine and he got the message and let me give him control of the kiss. His breath tasted like buttered popcorn and his tongue was salty and wet and I wanted all of it I could get. 

It was like when I had kissed Dean. Something inside me took over and made me want more. It had to be a GV thing, I assumed, but it wasn't time to think about it. It was time to just go with it. Let go of the rational brain and embrace the horny lizard one instead. 

He put his hands behind my neck to pull me closer and I realized we were still kissing and that neither of us had come up for air, still content to share each other's breath for the foreseeable future. Finally, after what could have been a minute or what could have been a month, he broke off the kiss and breathed heavily. 

“Wow,” he said. 

“You keep saying that word,” I teased. 

“Wow,” he said again.

“There you go again.” I just couldn't resist.

Instead of responding with words, he just pulled my face to his again, and this time he drove the passion of the kiss like I had wanted him to the first time. I had never felt so excited just by a mere kiss. It was as if months of pent-up and ignored lust had suddenly been released. 

Without breaking the kiss, I moved the popcorn from my lap and turned to face him better. We took a breather for just long enough for me to scoot into his lap facing him and put my legs on each side of his hips. Then our hands were wrapped around each other's backs and our tongues were dancing again. He pulled me close and at last my breasts pressed softly against his chest. I felt him stir beneath my crotch and I wanted more than anything to actually make love for the first time. 

But the last thing I needed in my state was to make a bloody mess on the both of us and definitely not on the couch.

So I broke off the kiss and leaned my head on his shoulder while he kissed my neck instead.

“Wow,” he said between kisses.

“And that's just to show you how much I like you. So don't ever believe I'm out of your league, okay? Cuz I'm not. If anything it's me who doesn't deserve you. There's still so much you don't know about me, and as long as you think I'm worth it, I'm the luckiest girl in the world.”

“Wow.”

“Is that all you can say?”

“You're pretty but your face isn't the most beautiful thing about you. It's the you part of you. I know I shouldn't say stuff like that, especially not when I'm not the only boy you're dating, but I can't help it.”

It was my turn to say it. “Wow.”

He smiled. 

“I wish I wasn't on my period,” I said. 

“I'm kind of glad you are, or else I might not be able to control myself.”

“One day I'm not going to want you to control yourself.”

“One day I'm going to agree with you.” 

“Do you want to start the movie again,” I asked. 

“No,” he said, “but we probably should.”

He did, and I watched the rest of it with my head in his lap while he fed us both popcorn. 

Mom woke us up later to let us know she had dinner ready, homemade lasagna, and not once did she give me a hard time about finding me asleep in his lap and him leaning back against the top of the sofa, snoring gently with both of his hands resting on my waist.

I waited for it, for her to go all 'mean Mom' and accuse me of acting like a slut like she had that first night of the adoption, but she didn't. She only smiled. 

Later, after dinner, while Jarrod had excused himself to go to the bathroom, she made her only comment on how she had found us.

“I told you it could be wonderful, especially with someone who was a better fit. Maybe not the forever and ever person, but the person who you really connect with.” Then she told me she'd take care of the dishes and go let Jarrod know we had apple cobbler for dessert if he wanted any. But before I could leave, she added, “Didn't I? Do you trust me now, baby?”

I hugged her tightly and then left to go and let Jarrod know about dessert.

* * *

I was able to return to work and school on Wednesday, and Jarrod made plans to visit after the dinner rush to drink coffee, eat pie, and do his own homework where he could have the best view in town. His words. 

Somehow, though, Dean had figured it would be a good day to drop by and let me know he was thinking about me and he hoped I was feeling better. And, of course, to deliver another dozen roses, yellow this time and filled with baby's breath.

And then just as Dean was about to hand me the bouquet, the door swung open again and Mr. Larry Grayson entered the diner staring at me as if it was time to show me who my body really belonged to. After all, he had been the first to claim me and surely, that must have meant something. He didn't say a word, but trust me, I could read every word I felt emanating from his in the primal expression that seemed chiseled on his face.

On top of all that, I was relying heavily on an annoyingly large tampon to help me get through a heavy flow day, and if not for the four Ibuprofen I had swallowed with a full mug of coffee, my cramps would have put me on the ground crying. 

If I thought I had gotten over the worst of it, I was wrong. 

Not the worst of my period and not the worst of my life as a sexually awakened young woman. 

It was as if every potentially disastrous point in my life had chosen Wednesday evening at eight-fifteen PM to coincide in the worst way possible. 

I started for the back room to hide when I noticed the asshole plop himself down at a table smack in the middle of my section. 

“Hello again, Joelle. How about another piece of that pie you're so proud of?”

“Sure thing, Mr. Larry,” I said. “A coffee too?”

“Absolutely. As hot and steamy as you can make it.”

I had seen him like this before. Usually when he was drunk off his ass. I just knew that when I got close enough to him I'd be able to smell the hard stuff all over him. He wasn't even trying to hide the fact that he was on the prowl for pussy. My pussy.

Unfortunately, Linda, the other waitress had just gone into the back on her break, and Miss Maddie was counting in a shipment with the delivery driver in the alley by the back door of the diner. 

Totally oblivious to my plight, the last customer not attached to me or my life in some way had just stepped out the door and left me alone in the cafe with the boys I was dating and the drunk misogynist who thought I belonged to him in some way and that seemed determined to start something potentially violent to get his way. 

On the way to cut a slice of pie for him, I whispered to Jarrod, who was sitting at the bar, brain-deep in drawings and equations. “Call my mom, please,” I said. “Now.”

Dean stopped approaching me with the flowers and stared at Mr. Larry with a look that said he was trying to put two and two together, but that it was still coming out to be somewhere in the vicinity of seven instead of four. 

I cut a triangle of pie and poured a mug of the freshest coffee we had, and that still was about fifteen minutes old, before I made my way back to him. 

Mr. Larry was studying both Jarrod and Dean. He saw the flowers and Dean's interest in me as the recipient. But he also had seen my interaction with Jarrod at the bar as he walked in and then my close whisper to him. 

“So,” he said finally. “Which of these boys is your little boyfriend, Joelle?” He was loud but he obviously didn't care since the cafe was empty. Of course, I wasn't sure he would have cared even if it had been full of people. “Which of them gets to enjoy the best pie in the county?”

“You're embarrassing yourself, Mr. Larry,” I said. “You're drunk. Do you want me to call Mr. Royce or Mr. Jenkins to give you a ride home?”

“Oh,” he said. “I want a ride all right.”

At this point, I saw that seven was getting a lot closer to four in Dean's eyes. He was piecing the bits together to make the puzzle make sense.

Jarrod was already on the phone but instead of talking to Mom, he just said, “Shit, she's not answering.”

I could tell Mr. Larry was still confused. 

“Or are you letting them both have some of your pie, little Jo? Is that it? All it took was one time and you turned into Jo the Ho?”

He laughed at his rhyme. 

“Jo the Ho,” he said again. 

“I think that's enough, sir,” Dean said. He had put the flowers down on one of the tables and was standing behind the drunk asshole. “I think maybe you should leave before you say something you'll regret. Besides, I don't think Miss Van Poole appreciates the way you're speaking to her right now.”

“And I think you're just a little punk-ass bitch who doesn't need to stick his nose into other people's business.”

Larry stood up and he and Dean were pretty much the same height, but the old drunk asshole had a good hundred pounds on Dean. Then again, Dean was an athlete and in good shape. Still, the last thing I wanted was for him to have to throw a punch to protect me. 

Finally, I heard Jarrod say loud enough for Larry to hear, "Hey, Miss Van Poole. Can you come to the diner? Some drunk jerk is bothering Joelle."

That finally got through Larry's whiskey-addled brain, I guess, and he sat down again and got quiet. "Just give me my pie and coffee to go instead. It ain't worth it."

"Whatever you want, Mr. Larry," I said, feigning respect. 

I put the slice of pie in a plastic box and poured a fresh cup of coffee into a styrofoam cup and secured a lid on top. 

"All ready for you. You have a nice night, okay?" I almost said "Hurry back" out of habit, but stopped the words in my mouth. I so fucking didn't want him to hurry back. 

Like ever.

The second he was gone, both Jarrod and Dean were at my side. "Are you okay?" they said almost as one person.

I shook my head weakly. No. I wasn't remotely okay.

"I'm Jarrod." He was extending his hand to greet Dean. 

"Dean," he said, taking it and giving it a shake. "I figured."

"We should probably talk at some point, but not now."

"Yeah, more pressing matters."

I still hadn't said anything after telling the asshole goodbye. My chest was tight. My heart was racing. My breath was short and shallow. 

"Boys," I said and then my eyes went black.

Apparently between the two boys at my side, I never even got close to hitting the ground after passing out. When I came to, I was on a leather loveseat in the break room. Dean was standing above me, and Jarrod was kneeling beside me rubbing my face with a cold, damp cloth.

"Hey," I said weakly, glancing from one to the other and back again. "I guess," I started, then found I needed to catch my breath again. "I guess," I tried again, "too much attention can make a girl swoon."

Both boys smiled but neither said a word. 

"Are you okay? What happened out there?" 

It was Miss Maddie. She had apparently been coming back inside the building when she saw me faint. 

"I guess I'm still not feeling well," I lied. "I got weak and passed out."

Dean and Jarrod shared a glance that said they would back me up.

"Well, do you want me to call Samantha to come get you or would one of your two white nights prefer to drive you home instead?"

Both boys smiled. 

I tried to return the smile, but honestly, I just couldn't. The terror of that moment was still too fresh, too strong, too with me. 

"As much as we'd love to fight over the privilege, maybe you should call your mom," Dean said. "We can always call or drop by later to see how you are feeling?"

"I thought... Isn't she coming already?" I asked. 

Jarrod shook his head. "I never got her on the phone. But I figured that guy who was bothering you didn't know that."

"He's smart, right?" I said to Dean. 

"Yep. He's a keeper," Dean replied.

"He's brave and stupid," I said to Jarrod, motioning toward Dean.

"Sorry. I'm not... well..." Jarrod said.

"Hey, it was your trick that made him leave. Don't be sorry," Dean said. 

"Yeah," I muttered and closed my eyes again. The damp cloth returned to my face, and I drifted off to sleep on the loveseat to wait for Mom to come get me and take me home.

I didn't say anything to her about Larry Grayson. What good was a period if you couldn't blame it for all the bad stuff going on in your life, after all? She let me rest most of the day, and then she made me reschedule the movie date with Jarrod. As much as I wanted to argue, I knew she was right. There was no way I would be able to give him my full attention in the darkness of the theater after what had happened at the diner.

He texted me most of the day and we talked for about an hour after I finally woke up for good around two in the afternoon. He missed me. He was worried about me. Was I doing okay? No, really. Was I okay? Who was that asshole?

I gave him the best answers I could without revealing my secret. 

I missed him too. I was sorry about the movie, but I would make it up to him. I promised. He didn't need to worry. I was doing better. Yes, really doing better. And, as far as that asshole, he was just this guy my Mom had gone to high school with. He often got belligerent when he got drunk. Yes, and horny too, and for some reason he had taken a liking to me, but it wasn't anything I couldn't handle. I'd be fine. 

He told me I didn't have to handle it, and that I should report it. I changed the subject and told him I was sorry that he had to meet Dean that way.

He got quiet a little after that. He didn't let on that it bothered him, but he couldn't hide it either, not from me.

"For what it matters, he's only in town for two more weeks, then he goes back to North Dakota for school, so you'll have me all to yourself."

"Cool," he said, but it didn't sound like it was cool at all. 

Still, what could I tell him? That since Dean knew I was GV, he and I shared something important and I couldn't just ignore that? That Dean was helping me to understand more about the person I would become? That he fully accepted me as a GV girl and I needed that more than I had expected?

Especially when I honestly still had no clue what Jarrod's reaction would be when I finally revealed that secret to him. If that conversation went as poorly as I figured it might go, then I might need Dean more than ever. 

So, no, I didn't tell him any of that.

"Hey, why don't you come over tomorrow night and bring another scary movie? I promise to get scared and jump right into your lap."

"Don't tempt me."

"Oh, trust me, that's exactly what I'm trying to do. I feel bad about having to reschedule our date, and I really do want to see you."

"I really want to see you too."

"Then come over."

"I have a lot of homework."

"So, bring it over and work on it at my home instead of yours. That still counts, right? I won't even bother you. Promise. I'll be on my best behavior and keep you focused with lots of coffee and some of what's left of the apple cobbler."

"Okay, maybe."

"I must be losing my touch," I said. "I'm dropping from a solid 'Wow!' to weak 'maybe.' Way to make a girl feel special."

He didn't respond. 

"Hey, Jarrod. I'm teasing you."

"I know. I'm really glad you're feeling better." I heard him breathe heavily as if he had a lot of rough shit on my mind. "Hey, Joelle?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you really like that guy, Dean?"

"I kinda do."

"Yeah."

"But I also like you too, silly, so cheer up. I'm not good at dating, and maybe I just don't know how to let either of you go. Maybe it's selfish, but maybe it's not. Like I said, I don't really know."

"I know." 

"Hey, Jarrod. Remember when I told you I felt like there was somebody growing inside me who I didn't know yet, and you said that was deep? Well, I feel like this may be part of that. How can I choose if I don't know me yet, you know?" I sucked in a short but deep breath. "Maybe this is helping me figure out who that person is."

He laughed softly on the phone.

"Maybe that person is a real tramp and wants to hang out with two boys she doesn't deserve."

"You're not a tramp. Don't ever say that," he said.

"It's just a joke. But I'm glad to see you still have some emotions in your voice."

"You're not a tramp. Even if you do want to date both of us. That doesn't make you a slut or anything."

"Understood. I'm not a slut. Got it. Loud and clear, boss."

"Teasing me again?"

I laughed. "Good, you're turning back into Jarrod again."

"This is new for me. I really, really like you, and I don't want to push you." He paused for a moment. "Okay, I really do want to push you, but I don't want to need to push you—if you know what I mean."

"I know what you mean. This is all new to me too. And I really like you too."

"But..."

"But nothing. I really like you too. Period. Surely you don't think I'd attack just any boy on my couch like the way I jumped you."

"I certainly hope not."

"Then we're good, right?"

"Yeah. We're good It's just me. Even when I hear you tell me that straight out, I can't help but imagine you either saying or even doing the same thing with him."

"I'm sorry."

"Well, it's like I told you—" 

"If you tell me I'm out of your league, I will walk over to your house and punch you in the stomach right now," I interrupted. 

"Fine, fine. Okay." I could hear some glint of happiness in his voice again finally. 

"So, about tonight. I don't suppose you have Night of the Sharp Teeth in your collection."

"Of course I do. How could I sleep at night if I didn't?"

"Well, bring that one over and we'll watch it. Besides, Mom's out with her friends tonight."

"Are you sure about that?"

"I'm still on my period, Jarrod."

"Right." 

"But if you don't mind a terrified final girl crawling into your lap for protection..."

"You're teasing me again."

"Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe I'm just predicting the future. It all depends on whether or not you come over."

"I'm still gonna be a little weird probably because of the whole Dean thing."

"That's okay. It's a weird thing, admittedly, and for what it's worth, I'm an awful person to put you through it. If you had any sense, you'd break up with me and run into the arms of some better, more dependable girl."

"You're probably right, but then again, maybe it's a good thing I don't have any sense."

He showed up an hour later, almost on the dot. Rather than risk angering Mom, I had called her to make sure it was okay for Jarrod to come over and watch a movie. I assumed it was since her response was, "Do you have protection?"

"Like a bat or something? Come on, it's just Jarrod."

"No, sweetheart, not like a bat. Like condoms We already had one scare."

"Mom! I'm still on my period."

"Sure, but do you have protection?"

"Mom!"

"Okay, fine, then be careful. I should be back around eleven since I have work tomorrow."

"Thanks," I said. 

"Be good, both of you."

I met him at the door in a surprising outfit I'm sure he wasn't expecting. Instead of dressing up, this time I dressed down. I had on an oversized T-shirt and some ankle socks with a fluffy ball on the back of the heel. I was hoping it might have the same effect as when a man sees the woman he loves in one of his dress shirts and nothing else.

Judging by his reaction, it had exactly that effect. 

"Didn't have time to get dressed?" he asked. 

"Oh, you don't like my outfit?"

"I think you just like melting my brain," he added. 

"I think I do. Did you bring the movie?"

He nodded and came inside. I took the movie from him and put it in the DVD player then put the case on the coffee table. Then I pushed him back onto the couch and climbed into his lap.

"Ooh, I'm scared already," I said with a laugh. Then I kissed him. 

"I thought you wanted to watch a movie."

"I do. But I wanted to remind you how lucky I am to have a boy like you as a boyfriend."

"Are we using that word now?" he asked, but I filled up his mouth with my tongue to shut him up for a few seconds. "What about Dean? Is he your boyfriend too?" he asked after the kiss, but I couldn't get mad at him. His tone was genuinely curious, not angry, not snarky, and not trying to imply anything about my character. 

"We're not talking about him tonight, Jarrod," I said and filled up his mouth again.

"Wow," he said when I let him come up for air.

"There. That's the word I was looking for. I like that word. I think it might be one of my favorite words now, thanks to you." I brushed my fingers through his short brown hair. "Is your brain mush yet, or do I have to keep going?"

"Wow," he said again. 

"Yes," I responded. "I do. I really do like that word, especially when you say it."

But I wasn't finished, not by a long shot. I might have missed my chance to make out in the dark of the movie theater thanks to Larry Grayson, but Mom's weekly night out with Tina and Rosalyn gave me an even better opportunity to make it to Jarrod and assuage my guilt at causing him distress because I couldn't make up my mind between him and Dean. 

I stopped kissing him and rested my hands on his chest. Then I unbuttoned his blue dress shirt and pulled it over to expose his slightly hairy but still very blonde chest and rested my hands there again. His nipples felt cool to my touch and I could tell they were excited to have a little of my attention.

"Umm, Joelle?"

"Shush," I said and kissed him again. "Don't worry. I don't want to go too far, but I want you to know how much I like you. I want to show you, okay? You can stop me anytime you want to, but I really, really hope you don't. You don't know how much I've been thinking about you."

"I was just going to remind you that—"

"Fully aware, baby," I said. It was the first time I could remember giving him a romantic pet name. I rolled the taste of it around in my mouth and decided I liked it enough to try another bite. "And we won't need to worry about that either, baby." Yep, it still tasted right. "Tonight is all about you. I've caused you enough stress and worry, and I want to make it up to you."

I leaned in and kissed his right nipple. I licked it and held it gently between my teeth. He moaned. I felt his erection rise where my crotch met his as I sat in his lap facing him. 

"Yummy," I said. 

"You don't seem new to this at all," he murmured. 

"Well, I guess I'm a quick learner. Plus, you'd be surprised what kind of how-to videos you can find on YouTube nowadays. I'll have you know, baby," I said, wondering if maybe I should stop with the pet name, "that I've never done this with any other boy. You're my first time. You're my only time."

I moved my mouth to the left nipple and made sure it didn't feel left out or ignored. His body had also turned to pudding along with his brain, and I didn't let up. I went back and forth from one side of his chest to the other until both nippled poked up like miniature hard-ons, and the much larger model below had risen stiff enough to push against my panties. 

God, how I wished I wasn't on my period. 

While I toyed with his chest, I reached for his pants and unfastened the belt and then the button. When I unzipped his jeans, he actually reached for my hands and held them for a moment.

"As much as I like this, you don't have to do this," he said. 

"I want to do this."

"I want you to do this too," he said. "But I don't want you to do it just because you feel like you need to prove anything to me. If you're doing this to make me feel better—"

"I'm doing this because I want to, sweetie." I liked the taste of that one too, I noticed. "But if you want me to stop, you just say so."

He didn't say a word. He also let go of my hands and I returned them to his boxers, resting one on top of his erection, which jumped a little at my touch. 

"Oh," I said. "Someone's happy to see me."

I pressed my palm against him and his cock reacted again. 

I couldn't believe I was doing this. It had been one thing to be drunk and get carried away, but now I was stone-cold sober and eagerly touching a boy's junk. It had been different when I felt pressured into sex and even threatened and helpless to fight back, but in this moment, I was the one taking the initiative. 

In a moment I had his rigid cock fished out of the boxers. I studied it as if there might be a test later. 

"Joelle?" 

"Yeah?"

"That feels really good."

"I hope so."

"Are you sure about this?" he asked.

"Let's make a deal," I said. "You stop being such a gentleman for once, and I'll show you what I've been thinking about for the past few days."

I climbed off of his lap and sat on my knees between his legs.

"Joelle?"

"Ssh," I said. "I won't be able to speak in a moment anyway." 

"You... you don't—"

"I want to. I told you I wanted to," I said and then I didn't speak for several minutes. I opened my warm, wet, hungry mouth and I nestled it onto the helmet of his fully attentive soldier. He moaned. I pressed my face lower onto him, taking it slowly so I didn't gag myself. He wasn't bigger than either of the two cocks I had encountered before though he was clearly in the prime of his life sexually. I took him as deeply as I could comfortably and then slipped back up to the tip before going down again. 

Another moan, this from both of us I thought.

I looked up to see he was looking at me as if he needed confirmation to believe I would actually give him that kind of attention. I remembered how much I had loved that in my Joel days, just having a girl look me in the eye while she went down on me. Somehow that made it more erotic, more loving. Or at least it had to me. I could only hope it might do the same for Jarrod.

He looked at me as if maybe he had never had his cock sucked before. Or at least sucked right. I might ask him about that later, or I might not. It might be better to just assume I was his first and that perhaps that made it even more special to both of us.

I kept my eyes locked on his, so he knew I was into him. There was no shame in my actions. He was my boyfriend, and I was his girlfriend, and we both wanted this to happen. It was like Mom had said. Beautiful in its right time. 

I slurped loudly and set his erection free from my mouth with a wet pop. 

"Wow," he said, our eyes still glued together in a hazy sort of fascination. 

"You feel awesome," I replied. "You taste like all my favorite things." I licked the tip in a circle around the circumference. "Or at least they're my favorite things now anyway." 

Then I lowered my mouth onto him again and this time picked up the pace. 

When I set him free again, I said, "It's okay if you want to hold my head, baby." 

He looked at me with a puzzled expression.

"To guide me. Use your hands to let me know how fast or how slow you want me to go. Or how deep."

He looked as though he understood finally."

"Like I said, I've never done with with another boy before." Technically it wasn't a lie. I didn't count the drunken rape and even if I had counted it, Mr. Severin was a man, not a boy. "I assume I'm not the first girl to go down on you, so help me make you happy the way you like it."

I knew the assumption that I wasn't his first blow job would hit him right in the ego, and I was more than happy to give him that boost of confidence. Not only that, I really wanted to feel his hands on my head pulling me up and down on him. I really needed to have him take the lead for once. 

I didn't need him to put me in my place or anything weird like that, but I knew that enjoyed having the guy I liked be the aggressor. I enjoyed the more subordinate role, which I admitted was new to me, but then I figured it must have something to do with the virus.

I tried not to think about how I would need to see if Dean knew anything about that.

Tonight was Jarrod's night and as far as he and I were concerned there was no Dean, just Jarrod and Joelle. I stifled a giggle. Jarrod and Joelle. It sounded like a couple of high-school sweethearts that married and moved to the suburbs. Probably had plans to name all their kids with J-names too. Little Johnny and Jessica. 

He grabbed the sides of my head and started to guide me just like I wanted him to. I felt so relaxed as he set the pace. He didn't pull me too deep until after several minutes, and I noticed the new tension in his cock, and I figured it would all be over soon. 

Should I pull away? Should I try to swallow his cum? 

No, it wasn't my decision. It was his night and so it was his decision. I would follow whatever his hands decided for me. 

In the end, whether by active choice, accident, or just because of the way his body tensed up, but at the moment he ejaculated, he jerked my face as far down onto him as I could go. I gagged a bit and almost lost my ability to breathe as his juices shot deep into my throat. What little didn't disappear on the way to my stomach dribbled out of the corners of my mouth. I was still holding his gradually softening cock in my mouth when he was able to open his eyes and look at me again.

"Wow," he said. 

I didn't say anything. My mouth was too full of his manhood. 

"Oh god, that was awesome. You're awesome." 

I still didn't respond. Instead, I played with the underside of his cock with my tongue and I felt it try to respond at least a little bit.

"Damn."

I tried some more to reactivate the prick in my mouth, but he was obviously going to need a break first. So I lifted my face and let him fall limply against his boxers. 

"Yummy," I said. 

"How can you be so sexy?" he asked. 

"Good genes, I guess." I laughed. 

I swallowed to make sure I no longer had any of his cum in my mouth. "Can I kiss you or would you rather I go brush my teeth first?"

Without a word, he pulled me up to him and gave me a deep open-mouth kiss. Then he let me go. "I'll never refuse a kiss from you, Joelle," he said. "Never. I'll give up breathing first."

"I really, really like you, Jarrod. Like a lot." 

He nodded. 

"I hope you know that. I really am the luckiest girl in the world."

He nodded again. 

I sat down beside him. He started to put everything back together between his legs, but I stopped him. I rested my head on his shoulder and placed my hand inside his boxers. 

"Not yet, please," I said. "I still want to play with this."

"Umm. Okay."

"I told you you were mine the other day, didn't I? Well, that means all of you, even this part." 

"I'm cool with that."

I smiled. 

"You can start the movie if you want to. I would but I don't have room in my hand for both this and the remote." 

He laughed. "God, I must have been fucking amazing in a former life if karma loves me this much."

He turned on the TV and started the movie, and all the while I leaned against him and gently stroked his manhood. By the time the first victim had been killed, he seemed to be ready for round two, and I dropped to my knees again in front of him. 

"Are we doing this again?"

"Oh," I said. "Do you think the movie is more interesting than your girlfriend?" I fished his tool out of his boxers and held it just below my lips. 

"I like the sound of that. Girlfriend." 

"Good. Get used to it." 

And then round two commenced. After a second helping of his cum, I let him zip up again and I lay down with my head in his lap looking up at him. 

"Aren't you going to watch the movie?"

"I'd rather watch you."

"But I'm not doing anything."

"So, do something."

He touched my face and ran his fingers through my hair.

"That feels nice," I said. "I'm really glad you came over."

"Is that a pun? Are you teasing me again?"

I laughed. "Not this time. Not intentionally anyway."

"I'm glad I came over too," he said.

"Do you feel any better?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that question?"

"Of course I feel better. I had my medicine. Two doses."

I laughed,

"I am, actually."

"Good, because I want you to know how special you make me feel. The way you talk to me, talk about me, even the way you are so easily impressed and make me feel like when you see me, I'm the only thing that matters."

"You really didn't have to—"

"I did it because I wanted to, baby. I didn't feel any pressure from you. And I really appreciate that. It's one of the things that makes me remember just how lucky a girl I am to be your girlfriend."

"I do like the sound of that."

"And Jarrod?"

"Yeah?"

"I know we weren't going to talk about Dean tonight, but I just wanted you to know that this is the first time I've done this with any boy. And that includes Dean. This is something only you and I share. It's our special thing, I don't expect that to change any time soon."

He nodded.

I smiled up at him and took one of his hands in my own. "For the record, I'm not made out of glass. You won't break me if you touch me."

"I keep thinking I'm going to wake up and realize it was just a dream."

I moved his hand under my shirt and let him discover that I wasn't wearing a bra. I held him on my breast and even helped him squeeze. 

"It's okay. Trust me. I'll ask you to stop if I don't like it." 

"I've never dated anyone like you before."

I had to hold back the smirk that threatened to show itself. If he only knew.

"I don't know how to act around you." 

"I told you, I'm still learning who I am. Maybe I need you to help me do that by making me risk feeling a little uncomfortable."

"Like this?" he asked and gave my boob another squeeze. 

"Oh, that's quite comfortable. And your hand is nice and warm too."

The movie played in the background, but I preferred to watch Jarrod as he played with me, even if he was perfectly happy to just have a little bit of second-base groping. 

* * *

I made myself wait until the next day before I called Dean with my question. He told me he'd be happy to discuss it, but could he pick me up for breakfast instead of dealing with it on the phone?

Starving, I said that was fine with me.

"Ask me again," he said after we had placed our orders. Thankfully, he had requested a booth way in the back so we weren't near anyone who might overhear. "Now that I'm actually paying attention more fully. I was still half asleep when you called."

"Sure. Okay." One deep breath later, I did just that. "I'm still trying to wrap my head around why it comes so easy to me, all the sex stuff I mean. I would think that given my situation and my past, the last thing I'd want to do is suddenly start acting like some easy woman who wants to get busy with some dude."

"Let's make sure I understand this," Dean said then took a long swig of black coffee. "You had a date with Jarrod yesterday and you want to know why you were so horny."

"That's not what I said, but yeah, that's kind of why I wanted to ask you."

He laughed. 

"Are you okay with this? I mean, talking about the other boy and all, especially something that intimate?"

"Are you?"

"I feel like I have to be or else I'll never understand my own body and my own brain."

"That's a good way to think about it." He drank another gulp of coffee. "Well, I'm not a GV researcher obviously, but Mother had mentioned this to me when she found out I was open to dating GVs."

I nodded, hanging on for the answers I hoped would come soon. 

"So, the virus targets the DNA. That's a given. But DNA targets the sum total of a person, from neurology to biology."

"You sound like a textbook."

"Hush, you. Me talk. You listen."

"Yes, Tarzan."

He laughed. "Anyway, about the only thing the virus can't touch is your memories, but it will create all the new physiology that will process those memories, and that includes things like the kind of food you liked and the activities you enjoyed and even the way you understood the opposite sex."

I nodded, not sure if I understood or not. 

"So as DNA changes those memories can affect things. Let's say, for example, you were an avid swimmer. Well, it's entirely possible that when your DNA rewrites it will be driven to some degree by that desire to be a swimmer. So your new body might be a bit more athletic and you might already have a natural ability to hold your breath longer. Little things like that."

"I guess that makes sense."

"Now, let's apply that to how you understand and think about the opposite sex. A lot of men who get the virus get it from carriers, usually women they are planning to try to seduce."

"Not me. Mine was from a car accident. I hit a carrier and when I took her to the side of the road, her blood got mixed up with mine from our open wounds."

"Same thing though. You caught it from a carrier. But that's not the point. The point was that the men who got the virus had a certain idealized way of seeing women. Usually, that was as some kind of conquest or worse. Or maybe they grew up with a religious notion that women should be subservient to men or stay home and keep house. It could be thousands of things that might have been considered trivial before, but once the virus starts rewriting DNA, sometimes those stronger viewpoints and opinions can be partial drivers for the new person being created."

"You're going to have to slow it down for me, Dean, please."

"Yeah, sorry. It's just fascinating. I'm actually thinking about changing my major to science just so I can study the virus as a career."

I said nothing. 

"Let's take one of those guys who felt women should be at home and raise babies. He really, really believed that as a part of his core identity. Well, if that guy gets the virus, those ideas about women are going to, at least to some degree, help shape those defaults into his new DNA in the same way that scientists believe a predisposition to alcoholism or drug abuse can be passed down through DNA. So, even if on the outside, the rational part of that new woman will still see herself as the previous man, just in a woman's body, the woman, when she's not exercising the rational part of her mind, will more easily coast into taking on a more maternal, subservient, even domestic inclination that she won't even have to think about. It will just come naturally." 

"Yeah, but I hope I wasn't the kind of asshole who thought that women were just basically sex dolls to serve men."

He shook his head and laughed. 

"It's not like that. But, at some level, you probably did prefer a woman who was willing to be more openly sexual and not have hang-ups about sex. It may have even been a positive thing, not just you looking to seduce a cheap tramp at a bar. You probably genuinely liked a strong woman who wasn't afraid to initiate a sexual encounter. Not only that, but you may have also preferred women who more eagerly responded to touch, just like a man does. So when I touched your thigh on our date, that could be your new DNA telling you that it was okay to enjoy that. And when I kissed you, your body told you that was okay too and that if at any point  you didn't like it you could have either told me to stop or just slap the shit out of me."

"Hmmm..."

"Where did I lose you this time?"

I shook my head. "I'm not lost. I'm just thinking about it, trying to take it all in."

"Oh." 

"Trying to apply it to me personally, I mean."

"Gotcha." 

About that time the food arrived and as we ate, I kept running the information over and over in my mind. Before I realized what he was doing, I found that Dean had taken the seat beside me and rested his hand on my leg. Not only that, he had his arm over my shoulder and was smiling into my eyes. 

"What are you doing?" I asked. I motioned him back to his chair. "This is not the time for that."

"Just a little experiment to help you understand it," he said. 

"What?" I asked as he returned to the seat across from me.

"You said it yourself, it's not the time. You're operating in your rational brain now. You're trying your damnedest to figure this out. You're being cold and logical. But the other night, you were thinking about a date. Your brain was more animal, free to feel things rather than think about them. Most likely you were upset at being set up for a blind date. Anger is as much a passionate response as love or lust. It wasn't a conscious decision you made, but it just happened. So when I touched you, you reacted rather than think."

"So when I wondered if you touching my leg was like a sexual on-switch..."

"You were wrong. Mostly. If it were just a switch, then it would happen anytime, anywhere. Just squeeze that gorgeous thigh and bang, you're suddenly horny. But it didn't just now obviously."

"A sometimes on-switch then? God, I'm so confused."

He laughed. "Not really. Let me ask you this. What do you think about your legs?"

"I love them. I think they're probably my best feature."

"How did you feel about legs before you became a young woman?"

"I was always attracted to them. I used to visit pantyhose forums online."

"I figured. That's probably why you wear tights so often. You innately acknowledge that your legs are very sexy, and you naturally want to show them off. Again, it's not a conscious decision, but a part of who you are. I'm assuming you probably don't wear them all the time, so it can be controlled by when you're more deliberate in your thinking. Or it can happen in the background as a natural inclination while you're thinking deliberately in the forefront of your mind about something else." He pointed at my legs. "For example, did you realize that you wore pantyhose with your shorts this morning to meet me?"

I looked down. I hadn't even realized I was dressing to show off my legs this morning. I only knew I wanted to hurry and get some answers. I told him that.

"Well, I, for one, am glad you did. I love the way your legs look. I agree with you. They're totally one of your best features. You're welcome to show them off to me anytime."

I felt my cheeks blush. I shook my head. 

"It just happened again, didn't it?"

He smiled. "You just happen to appreciate compliments about the way you look. But I won't try to Freud you about that one."

"Thanks." 

"Anyway, to go back and actually answer your question, during our date, you had obviously put a lot of care into how you looked, especially your legs, so when I rested my hand on your thigh, you accepted it as approval for all your hard work most likely."

"Damn," I said. "No wonder I was so easy for you."

He laughed again. "You weren't easy. Don't ever think that. And don't think I can manipulate you because I know a little bit about how the virus works. I can't. If anything, I fully expected you to slap the shit out of me for being so forward that night. You obviously were needing some attention, at least positive attention, and I just happened to be the person offering it."

I thought back on the assault and realized just how much truth there was in his words. 

"Can I ask you something else?" he said. "And when I ask it, feel free to tell me to fuck off and that it's none of my goddamn business."

I didn't wait for the question. Instead, I nodded. "Yeah, that guy at the diner. He's the one who popped my cherry, so to speak. We went to all the way back to high school, and there was a group of us who did everything together. Only, while the other guys were keeping their discomfort about my new body to themselves and trying not to think about it, he and one other guy I thought was a friend, well, they came up with a plan to get me drunk and take advantage of me." I took a long breath. Then another. Then a third. "I guess he still isn't satisfied and he wants another piece of me."

Dean was sitting beside me again and had his arms around my shoulders. "I'm so sorry that happened. I wish I could say it was rare, but it's not. The numbers are crazy. Most GV girls lose their virginity to the men they trusted as lifelong friends. And it's usually not completely consenting, unfortunately. They're usually some form of coercion or manipulation, and sometimes just flat-out rape. The minute that guy showed up at the diner, I started to put it all together."

He still had his arms around me. I relaxed into his grip. 

"Listen, I'm feeling vulnerable right now."

"You're safe, Joelle. Besides, like I said, you are always free to slap me or kick me in the balls if I get out of line."

I didn't respond except to feel safe enough to cry... again.

He whispered as he held me and rocked me gently on the bench. "It all makes a lot of sense now, why you reacted so strongly to Jarrod's sweetness and tenderheartedness. Why you wanted so much positive physical appreciation during our date. Everything, even all the phone conversations we've had and you wanting to understand everything you can about the virus and how it might affect you." He squeezed my shoulders. "Listen, I need to apologize. I didn't mean to treat you like, well, like I did. I mean, I guess I did, but I didn't know why you were acting the way you were. I was out of line, and I was wrong, and I'm sorry. It's okay if you want to tell me you never want to see me again. I'll understand."

"Maybe after the hug," I said and pressed closer to him. "Or at least I might give you that kick in the balls."

"I deserve no less, Joelle."

"Seriously though," I said after a few minutes of silence. He was still holding me but we had stopped rocking and my tears were finally starting to stop. "Thank you for talking with me about all of this. It really means a lot."

A voice I recognized brought me out of my melancholy and made me put a few inches of distance between Dean and me.

"Joelle? I thought that was you." 

Roman Jenkins was sitting at the table next to ours. He smiled but made no move to approach us.

Chapter 5: Reunited... and it Feels So Weird

"Hi, Mr. Jenkins," I said, trying not to tense up, hoping he hadn't seen me snuggled up with Dean. 

"Good to see you. I saw your mom at the store yesterday. She said you had started dating. I guess this fellow must be the lucky guy." 

I smiled but didn't give him a yes or no. "This is Dean Whitcomb, Mr. Jenkins. His mom is the Dean of Admissions at my school."

"Oh. Nice to meet you, Dean. Does that mean your mom is Dean Whitcomb too?"

He nodded. "Yes, sir. We get that a lot." 

"I bet." He scooted his chair under his table. "Oh, I don't want to interrupt, but I did talk to Pete when we were bowling Sunday night, and he said you were the best babysitter he and Rosalyn ever had. We all had a good laugh about that, but he said, no he was serious."

"April and Tony are good kids."

"Sounds like you're doing well, kiddo," he said. "I think that's awesome. I mean, it's kind of sad too, but I get it. People have to grow up. Maybe I think that applies to me too." 

There was a sort of wistful sadness in his expression, and I wanted to tell him everything that had happened since that fateful night everything changed. I wanted to tell him that of all the guys, he was all right. He was the one I really missed the most. I wanted to, but I also knew it wouldn't be fair to him.

"I'm trying, sir," I said. "Want me to tell Mom you said hello?"

"Sure. Do that. Anyway, you two kids get back to your breakfast date. I won't bother you anymore. Y'all sure as hell don't need an old man like me to cramp your style."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Jenkins." 

I wanted to hug him and tell him I might still need him in my life, if only I could figure out how he might fit for Joelle now that Joel was well and truly fading away from my new life and might be gone for good soon. Maybe I just wanted to hug him for old time's sake. 

He returned to his menu and let Dean and me finish in peace. He didn't even glance over to sneak a peek at what my new lifestyle might look like from his outside perspective. I knew because I was the only one sneaking glances—but at him. We had made a promise to each other and he was damn well determined to keep it. I guess he still respected me and thought of me as a friend after all. 

"One of your old friends?" Dean asked quietly. 

I nodded. "Probably my best friend."

"Is he one of the ones—"

I shook my head. "And I never told him about it either. So please don't tell him either, okay?"

He nodded. 

"And he's cool with the new you?"

"We agreed that we just don't have a place in each other's world anymore."

"You miss him though, don't you?"

"Like crazy, but because he's part of that old life with the, well, you know. Because of that, I get really stressed when I see him—like it makes everything awful come flooding back into my head."

"I get it. I do. And for what it's worth, he seems like a half-decent guy." 

"He's the best, but like I said. I don't fit in his world anymore and he doesn't fit in mine." 

"Want me to hold you again?" he asked, opening his arms. "I mean if you don't mind having your old friend see you with your boyfriend." 

I forced a smile. "I don't mind. I kinda need it."

"Then it's all yours for as long as you need."

* * *

For the next three weeks my life pretty much returned to the new normal. I went to school and worked hard to get good grades since I'd need that two-year degree to transfer to a four-year school for whatever degree program I wanted to go into for Joelle. I had enough of business and was actually thinking about pursuing a degree in childhood education. 

I had actually caught my mind wandering and wondering what a future Ms. Van Poole might be like in front of a class. Or, and I tried not to let the ideas take root, but they came anyway, what maybe a Mrs. French or Mrs. Whitcomb might be like as a teacher.

After school, either Mom or Jarrod or Dean would pick me up and drop me off the Maddie's for my shift. The regulars apparently liked me and my tips were strong. Not only that, but I had gotten another half-dollar an hour raise and keys to close up if Maddie had to rush out and leave me to cash out for her. 

As for my free nights, I either went out with one of the boys or picked up a babysitting gig since Mrs. Royce had given me a glowing recommendation on both of the top babysitting apps most of the folks in town used. I had only accepted two because of work shifts, but I had been so sought after that I had to apologize and turn down more than I could accept. 

It was busy, but it was regular. My routine was set. The routine was comforting. The routine was safe. Ultimately, the routine gave me the best chance of avoiding Mr. Larry Grayson. Mr. Severson was already keeping his distance and I barely even thought of him at all. But every time I saw a blue truck pass by the diner I would get worried it was Larry. Every time my phone dinged me a text alert, I was terrified it would be him even though I had blocked him. He knew my number, after all, and he knew how to pick up a cheap phone if he really wanted to make my life hell. But I hadn't seen nor heard from him since his drunken appearance at the diner. In fact, Miss Maddie had basically told him either to "get your shit together or stay the hell out of my diner."

After that, at least I started to feel safer at the diner. Miss Maddie didn't know the full story, but she knew that Larry had an interest in me that went beyond just old friends trying to deal with the virus. It went into weird, and she could see that. 

Jarrod and I finally got out to the movie and saw Dark Souls Below. Neither of us thought it was nearly as good as the reviews had said, but we didn't care. Mostly we kissed and made out. I even let him get to third base and use his rather nimble fingers on me. I was so proud of him for not asking but just knowing I was ready for that next step. I didn't cum, but he got me awfully close, and I probably wouldn't have needed to scream out from an orgasm in the theater anyway. 

Dean and I spent his last night in town up at the pass and he too hit a triple. He was clearly more used to running the bases and, spread out on a blanket on the ground beside his Miata, he made me orgasm not just once but three times. 

But I had kept my promise to Jarrod and I hadn't once sucked Dean's cock, even when my body told me it wanted to. And he had never pressured me to. 

Between my two patient and gifted boyfriends, I was a lucky girl indeed. 

Dean called me from the road to tell me he missed me already, and to tell Jarrod he'd better treat me right. I took the call between classes at school and figured it would be okay to be a little bit of a bad girl so I sneaked into the bathroom and snapped a tit pic to send him to remind him not to forget me. 

I accepted a babysitting job for one of Mrs. Royce's friends from the Auxiliary Club, a woman named Mrs. Boutine, who had eleven-year-old twin boys. Mom had dropped me off at her house, and after I fixed hamburgers for them, we played a three-way Mario Kart until it was time for bed, and I returned to the kitchen to take care of the mess I had made cooking. 

She was so happy with the job that she immediately booked me for three weeks out when she and her husband would be celebrating their sixteenth anniversary. She even called Mom to tell her thanks for letting me and mentioned that the boys had apparently developed a little crush on the new babysitter. Of course, Mom had to share that tidbit with me. 

All in all, my life was going well. Even Mom and I were getting along. I knew it mainly because I had become the obedient, mostly docile daughter she wanted, and that her rules were mainly designed not to discourage me from having fun, but to keep me away from the wrong people—my old friends. 

So, imagine my surprise, when one night she asked me to sit with her on the couch and she told me she had something important to discuss.

"Joelle," she said. "I need to ask you something. Well, really, I need to tell you. But if what I say is going to be too hard on you, then you let me know, okay?"

"Sure, Mom, what's up?"

She wrinkled up both her mouth and forehead. "It's Mr. Jenkins, I mean Roman. He asked me out."

"Shit!" I said. 

"Language, honey."

"Sorry. You caught me by surprise. What did you tell him?"

"I told him I couldn't answer until I talked to you first. If you say it's okay, I'll say yes. I mean, it's been a long time since I've had a date with anybody, let alone someone like Roman who even you still think of fondly and who obviously respects you enough to keep his promise to let you live your new life without interference." She sucked in breath through her nose, making a sharp whistling sound. "But if it's too weird, as much as I'd like to go out with him, I'll tell him no. You come first, honey. So it's your choice."

I didn't hesitate. "I think you should. He's awesome. And even if it's just as the guy picking you up for dinner, it'll at least give us a way to actually fit into each other's life again. I miss him."

"That's what I was thinking too."

"I mean it. Do it. But don't have sex on the first date. He doesn't like that in a woman. He's more old-fashioned. Wait until the third day to get freaky."

"Joelle!"

"Just saying. I've known him for almost thirty-eight years. You learn things about a person. If you want to have a chance to actually date him for real, you know, long-term, wait until the third date. Trust me."

"The things a girl can say to her mother nowadays," she said, but added. "Thanks. Good to know." She grinned and shook her head. "But don't get us married off just yet. We may not even like each other that much."

"Oh," I said. "I know you will." 

That night, I called Dean to let him know the news. I couldn't wait to tell him there was finally a way to interact with my former best friend that made sense and didn't fuck up my new life. He was as happy about it as I was, or at least that's how it sounded to me, and he asked me how weird it would feel if my old friend ended up becoming my stepdad.

I laughed and told him I wasn't remotely ready to consider that yet. 

After another month, I was seeing Jarrod regularly. We still hadn't actually had sex, but we had done everything but that. I was on his cock so often I could have been given the nickname condom. He had started to go down on me too and we both discovered that we liked sixty-nine the best. Of course, he was so good and at kissing and nibbling my clit that I often had trouble focusing on his needs before I orgasmed. 

Miss Maddie had gotten comfortable with my closing, and at least twice a week I had the diner to myself for the last hour. The dinner rush was over and usually, it was just a person or two wanting a coffee to go and one last piece of pie for the day, so I was able to work on my homework with Miss Maddie's blessing as long as the place was ready for closing. 

I was picking up two babysitting gigs a week just so I wouldn't have to disappoint the folks on the SitterFinder app and keep my ratings up. Five stars, I was happy to say, and the skill that got the most comments was my cooking. Apparently, it was hard to find a sitter who actually prepared a meal for the kids, let alone made enough for leftovers for mom and dad's lunches for the office.

That left me only one or two nights a week for Jarrod, who I was seeing exclusively now. We worked around it and often had our dates during the day watching movies at either my house or his. 

Mom had apparently hit it off with Mr. Jenkins, and they had been out five more times. On the night of the third night, the two of them had come back to the house looking more than a little disheveled, and both Jarrod and I stood up and gave them stern looks. "What have you two deviants been up to?" I asked. "I'd like to know just what are your intentions with my mother." 

Then we all shared a laugh, and Mr. Jenkins took us all out for ice cream. Of course, the same damn country music station was playing on the radio in his car. Some things never changed. 

After the fifth day, I asked him if he had a moment. He said yeah and asked me if we needed to talk in private. I nodded, so we walked outside to the front porch.

"How are you doing, kiddo?" he asked. 

"I'm actually feeling great. It's weird but the more I accept who I am now and stop trying to hold on to the past, the happier I am."

"I thought so. I mean, you seem happy. Really happy. I'm glad for that for you."

"Well, I'm glad you and Mom are dating. I like getting to see you again, even if it's just because you're that guy who has sex with my mom."

"Joelle! I should put you over my knee for that."

"I'd like to see you try. I may be a girl, but I can still probably kick your ass." I laughed. "Don't forget, Mr Jenkins. I know you too well. You can't fool me or count on always buying me off with ice cream."

He didn't say anything for a moment. "I'm sorry. Did I say something that made it weird?:

"No, it's my own stupid fault. I don't need to joke like that." 

I rolled the last few comments around in my head and landed on him putting me over his knee to spank me. Yeah, that was probably it. And instead of letting it slide, I had only pressed the point and basically made him picture it in his mind.

"Anyway, what's on your mind, kiddo? I mean why the privacy."

I looked at the dingy wood plank floor of the porch. "Do you still see Mr. Grayson much?"

"Not since that stunt he pulled at the diner. The boys and I gave him hell over that. He's leaving you alone now, I hope." 

I nodded.

"Good. Friend or not, I will put my boot up his ass if he does anything to hurt you. I hope you know that." 

"What if he already did hurt me?"

There. I had said it before I could talk myself out of it.

"Already hurt you?" He gripped my shoulders and squatted down so he could look me full in the face. 

Of course, the goddamn tears turned on like a water faucet.

"What the fuck did he do, Joelle?"

Mom must have heard me sobbing, so she joined us on the porch. Luckily, Jarrod had already gone home. 

"Do you know what she's talking about, Sam?" he asked. 

"I do, but let her tell you. It's her story, not mine."

So I did. And when I was done I felt like that last piece of Joel that had been clinging to Joelle broke off and shattered when it hit the floor. 

Mr. Jenkins didn't say anything for the longest time, and when he finally did he said the words through gritted teeth and with clenched fists. "I'll fucking kill them."

I touched his fist and made him open up to put my small hand in his giant one. I felt tiny and tired and weak, but I felt new too. I felt powerful in my smallness. I shook my head.

"Why didn't you tell me all this before?" he asked. 

"Because I couldn't. I didn't want to ruin your life too."

His breathing was suddenly like that of a cartoon bull on a rampage. I opened his other fist and made him fold that hand too. 

"Besides, I had to realize it was partly my fault too. I should have figured it out in your car when you made me sit up straight. But I didn't."

"Bastards. Assholes." 

"I had to tell you now because I don't know what's going to happen with you and Mom and I don't want my secrets to mess anything up for you two."

He felt like he wanted to ball up his fists again but he knew if he did he'd likely break all my fingers. I took a step toward him, between his arms. He must have known what I needed because he wrapped his arms around my shoulders and pulled me so tight I thought I might be absorbed into his chest. 

"I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry," he said with deep sobs. 

"Yeah, I'm sorry too," I said

Mom asked if we needed a few minutes but didn't wait for a response. Instead, she walked inside and left us in what she must have guessed was the most important hug in both of our lives. 

There was just one last secret that needed to be shared before Joelle could be free, finally free, and I had no idea what learning it might mean for the boy who was falling as hard for me as I was for him.

* * *

As much as I wanted to tell Jarrod the truth about me, I found that I was way too afraid to take the risk. Things were looking up finally. Mom and I were getting along. Mom and Roman Jenkins were getting on like teenagers in love, and I was sure the noise coming from her bedroom several nights a week wasn't from them rearranging the location of her bed and dresser over and over again. 

Not only that, I hadn't seen Larry in weeks, and Chris was keeping his distance as well. Even when we saw each other in town, he wouldn't even wave, just walk by me quickly as if he had no clue who I was. 

My guess was that Mr. Jenkins had laid down the law to them both, but when I asked him he wouldn't answer except to tell me not to worry anymore and that neither of them would bother me again. 

My job at the diner was on cruise control and was as natural to me as breathing. Miss Maddie told me that for my twentieth birthday, she'd make me the manager for the night shifts if I wanted it. She'd do it now, but she had a policy about all managers having to be at least twenty years old and she couldn't break that, not even for me. 

I was babysitting at least twice each week, most often for Mr. and Mrs. Royce, who seemed to actually spend a lot more time together going out as a couple instead of as individuals now that I was able to watch April and Tony on the regular. 

Jarrod and I were spending almost all my free time together. If we weren't able to go out because of the diner and my babysitting, then we'd hang out and watch movies at my house or catch a coffee in the mid-morning or early afternoons. On the odd opening we had for an actual date, we had started going to the theater less and less and putting that newly available time into visiting the Pass after a quick bite to eat. Pizza or a burger, if I had my choice, although he insisted on taking me to the next town for good Ramen at least once a month, sweet guy that he was. 

The only hiccup in my increasingly almost perfect new world was that Dean had called me at school with news he warned me I might not be too happy to hear.

I asked him if he had gotten pregnant and told him I'd be there to care of him and the baby, and he called me a goober, and we had a good laugh. Then he said it straight out, "Listen, I'm seeing somebody, and it's getting serious."

I didn't respond at first, but I swallowed my pride and my pain and said quietly. "Okay."

"It's not that I don't like you. I do. God, you're awesome."

"If you tell me it's not me, it's you, I will walk all the way to North Dakota just to kick you in the nuts."

"I promise I won't do that."

"Love your nuts that much, huh?"

"I wouldn't do that to you even if I didn't have nuts."

"I'm not going to tell you that I'm happy to hear it, but I had been going out with Jarrod exclusively for a while now, and I was a little concerned about what might happen when you came back for the Summer."

"Would it help if I hung out and let you call to break up with me instead?"

"Maybe," I said, then added quickly, "But don't."

"We can pretend."

"Nah. I'm tired of pretending. It's taking me a long time to get where I am. I'm in a good place. I'm honest and open with everybody with just one exception."

"Jarrod, I'm guessing. He still doesn't know?"

"I'm getting there. Don't rush me."

"Never. Even if you're not my girlfriend."

"Wow," I said. "I'm not sure I like how final that sounds."

We both were quiet for about a minute. 

"So," I said. 

"Yeah," he said. 

"Are you gonna be okay?"

"I guess I have to be, don't I?"

"Well, I figured..."

"You figured wrong. Don't forget, this is all new to me. Even if it's for the best, it's the first time Joelle has ever been dumped by a boy she likes."

"Likes? Not liked?"

"Nope," I said. "You don't get to ask me things like that anymore."

"You're better at this than you think you are," he responded. 

"Maybe I need to move up the timetable for going all the way with Jarrod..."

"You know, just because I was the person you could talk to about GV stuff and sex doesn't mean you need to tell me this."

"Oh, you don't want to hear about when we go down on each other or how I plan to let him fuck me maybe this weekend?"

"No really."

"Makes you jealous?"

"Nope," he said this time, repeating my words. "You don't get to ask me things like that anymore."

"Well played, Dean. Asshole."

"I am," he said. "And I hate it. But I really, really like this girl."

"I get it. I do. Is it okay if I say thank you?"

"For dumping you?"

"Well, how 'bout I say fuck you for dumping me? But the thank you is for being my first."

"We never had—"

"Not that. But you weren't that either, remember?"

"Oh," he said flatly. "Yeah. Sorry."

"It's okay. What I mean is thank you for being my first boyfriend."

"But you went out with Jarrod first."

"Yeah, but you called me your girlfriend first."

"You really want to make this hurt, don't you?" he asked.

"Is it working?"

"Joelle, it was working before I even called you."

I didn't respond. I knew that I had Jarrod and that Dean's return could very likely fuck up my relationships with both boys, but I didn't have to like breaking up officially. I didn't have to be happy about it one bit. 

After Dean and I hung up, I called Jarrod and asked him to come pick me up from school and take me to get Ramen for lunch. I mainly stared at my bowl as I told him almost every word of the call with Dean. He moved next to me on the booth seat and put his arm one arm around my shoulder and one hand on my leg—then he squeezed and told me he was sorry I had to go through that and that he loved me.

I almost swallowed my most recent breath and turned to him with wide eyes, but he didn't let me speak. Instead, he kissed me. 

"I'm sorry you had to go through that," he said. "But I can't say I'm not glad you know that I don't have to wonder about..."

I shut him up that time with an equally fervent, equally passionate kiss. I placed my hand on top of his and made damn sure he squeezed my thigh while we kissed. I didn't dare tell him how badly I needed that kind of attention. It took every bit of self-control I had not to give him a handjob in the middle of the booth. 

Unfortunately, he had a club meeting on campus after lunch, so he had to drop me back at campus, which kept both my hands and my mouth out of his pants. 

I sat on a bench in front of the Language Arts Building and mostly sighed. I had really needed Jarrod's attention. If he was my only boyfriend now, officially so, then I needed him to step up, at least today, but I also knew I needed to understand. Using one boy to help get over another, especially given our strange situation, wasn't fair to him either. 

Still, I really could have used the stress relief that safe, honest, physical intimacy gave me. 

Then again, Jarrod was my boyfriend, not my drug. 

A loud ding from my phone jerked me out of my melancholy. A text from Eva, the lesbian daughter of Mom's friend Franke from the office. Even though we had never dated, I still got to know her since we had two classes together—Tennis and Home Economics. 

"Are you going to come to club this time or chicken out again?"

"Can't. Just had a break-up."

"With Jarrod? Shit. I'm so sorry. What an idiot. Like he could do better."

I sent a smiley face, then typed, "Not Jarrod. Dean."

"I thought you broke you weeks ago. So, since it's nothing then, come to club."

"Just don't feel up to it." 

"Don't be a pussy."

"Don't be a bitch."

"Neither of us have a choice with that, do we?"

What Mom hadn't known, what her friend Franke kept secret, was that Eva was actually a GV girl too. Only she and her mom had moved to town a year after her change, so it wasn't a town secret like mine. How Jarrod didn't already know was a mystery. It seemed like so many people in town did. 

'Club' was the NuYu Club, a sort of support group for people like me and Eva—technically Evangeline according to her transcripts and driver's license—who were on what Dean had called the "special scholarship." She invited me every week, but I always found some excuse to avoid it. I was tired of thinking of myself as a weirdo, as outside the norm, but now that I might not have access to Dean and his knowledge about girls like me, maybe I had a reason to reconsider. 

I didn't have time to come up with a reason to back out though, because while I was waiting for her next text, she showed up and sat down beside me. 

"Hey, bitch!" she said.

"Hey yourself, bitch," I responded. 

"Get your shit. I'm taking you to the club.'

I sighed. "Eva."

"You can 'Eva' me all you want, but you're going to have to do it while I drag your ass to the meeting."

And she did. Ten minutes later, I was sitting in a plastic folding chair with a generic bottled water.

"Girls," Eva said loudly, "this is my friend Joelle. She used to have a dick too."

The girls smiled and said hi and one, a gorgeous black girl with the kind of body I would kill for, got up and gave me a hug. "I voted for the Chicks Who Lost Their Dicks Club, but apparently that wasn't on the approved list by the school," she said as she broke off the hug.

I laughed. 

"So," said Felicia, a cute blonde with a shorter, more curvy and what guys called thick figure. "Well, you picked the right week to finally attend." She laughed. "Or the wrong one, depending on your reaction."

"Oh?" I said. 

"Oh yeah, this week we're talking about sex, specifically our second time."

"Second time?" I asked.

The girls nodded almost in unison. "The first time is often way too traumatic and not always what a new GV would either expect or even welcome. So we're going to skip that one and jump straight to our second time, the one we actually usually wanted and maybe even initiated."

Holy shit! I thought. These girls got it. Really got it.

"I'm afraid I won't have much to add," I said. "I haven't had my second time yet."

"Jarrod hasn't made a move on you yet?" said a brown-haired girl Eva had introduced as Trixie. Well, Therese, but she hated that name and preferred the more fun Trixie. 

Did everyone know I was going out with Jarrod French?

I shook my head.

"Don't worry. Eva keeps us up to date on your life. It's actually our favorite soap opera. Based on how good she says you and him are together, I figured you'd be on each other like rabbits in mating season."

I wasn't sure how to respond to that. Hell, I wasn't sure if there even was a response to that.

"Don't mind Trixie," said a dark-haired girl with blue and pink streaks, barely five-feet-two inches, "It's not that she's rude. She's just stupid, mainly."

"Play nice, Veronica," said Eva.

"I'm Ronnie," she said, extending her hand. "If you have any questions, let me know. I've been a girl the longest."

"Oh," I said. 

"She's right," Eva said. "When she caught the virus, how old did you end up?"

"Four years old," Ronnie said. 

"Four years old?" I asked.

"Four mother fucking years old," she said. "I had to grow up almost all the way back from a baby. Hell, I can barely remember even having been a man. It didn't help that since both of my parents were dead, I ended up in the foster care system."

"Shit," I said. 

"Shit is right. But when it comes to understanding the life of a GV, nobody I know has lived it as long as I have."

"Damn." 

"It's okay. I got over it." She took a seat beside me. "And I did get these awesome tits out of the deal."

"Don't believe her about that last one," said the one remaining girl in the group, a thin, pale almost boyish girl with fiery red hair that made her skin appear to be even more fair. Her face looked like it had been shot with freckles that got stuck there. "I think there's probably even a receipt to prove that her boyfriend, Charles, bought those for her."

"Plastic surgery?" I asked. 

"Most guys can't tell the difference," Ronnie said. "Or girls. Depending on which way your swing swings." As she spoke she was either giving Eva a knowing glance or a flirting invitation. I didn't know her well enough to figure out which.

"Amy," said the pale redhead, nodding as she offered her hand. 

I took it and then released it. "Joelle."

"Trust me, we know." She paused and glanced around the room at the others. "By the way, I think I'm the only one of us who didn't get the memo."

"What memo?" I asked. 

"Don't ask," said Ronnie.

It was too late. Amy was already answering. "You know. THE memo. The one that says all GV girls have to choose exotic TV star or gothic novel heroine names like Veronica or Evangeline or Therese. Hell, even Felicia. I just picked out my grandmother's name because I liked it and it might give me a reminder of the kind of person I wanted to be."

"Okay, okay. Enough chit-chat," Eva said. "Are we going to actually meet or just scare the hell out of poor Joelle on her first day with us?"

Trixie raised her hand. "I vote scare the hell out of Joelle."

"Put your hand down, dumbass," Eva said. 

"So," Felicia said. "Our second sexual encounter as a girl."

I shut my mouth and kept it shut for the rest of the meeting. I figured listening was the best way for me to learn anything helpful, now that I had lost Dean, my walking, talking, kissing, and finger-fucking encyclopedia of all things GV. 

* * *

After meeting the NuYu girls and listening to their stories, I felt better than I had expected. Each had a similar story, well, except for Veronica. Her entire life had almost been a normal little girl's life since she regressed so far to early childhood. She had been seventy-three when the man she had been had become a child. Her first time was magical, losing her virginity at sixteen to a boy she had dated for almost a year. Her second time was more of the same and with the same boy. It was only after another year that he had cheated on her and she had broken up with him. 

The rest though, all told practically the same story. 

Some male friend they had trusted had either taken advantage of them or had played the friend card to get into their panties and give them a test drive. Then that friend had either freaked out and left them alone or had started to treat them as a sort of personal sex toy and pressured them into another fuck and got mad when no was the answer. 

After that traumatic first time, though, each of the girls had managed to find someone they actually liked and wanted to be intimate with. For Trixie, it had been a neighbor who had fallen in puppy love with her. For Amy, it was an acquaintance who became a friend who became a lover who remained a good friend even after their break-up. Eva had an ex-girlfriend who was bi-sexual and thought the idea of dating Eva as a guy and then as a girl was the most fascinating idea she could imagine. 

It was Felicia who had been attacked by someone she trusted, just like me, only her experience was worse, a full-on attack and being held down while a thirty-three-year-old "friend" had insisted it was his right to introduce the fifteen-year-old teenager to the ways of womanly passion. He had taken her second and third times in the same way after scaring her into keeping quiet about the assault.

Felicia had been lucky enough to have a brother who had discovered evidence of the abuse, and to protect her he had been instrumental in getting the creep sent to prison for rape. Maybe not lucky, exactly, but she did get justice. 

I wondered if I ever would. 

Thankfully, none of the girls pressured me to tell my story. 

* * *

Thanks to the time with the club, I was feeling much better when Jarrod arrived in the afternoon to pick me up and take me home. He had grown so used to seeing me in my uniform that I could barely even get a rise out of him anymore. 

So I found myself forced to use my words.

"I guess the magic is gone, huh?"

He looked genuinely confused. "What?"

"Here I am looking incredibly cute in this short skirt and tight sweater and shiny pantyhose, but I'm not even worth a second glance anymore from the boy I like."

"You're teasing me."

"Wow. I can't get anything past you, can I?"

"I know how to shut you up, girl."

"Oh, care you put that to the test?"

Before I could prepare, he was pressing against me, his mouth on mine, one hand behind me gripping my ass and one pulling toward him by the back of my neck. 

"How's that?"

"It's a start," I answered.

"A start?"

"Take me to the Pass, boyfriend," I said. "Please," I pleaded, placing my hand on the inside of his thigh. 

"As you wish," he said, and I scooted as close to him as my seatbelt would allow.

He did, and even though I knew we needed to hurry home since Mr. Jenkins and Mom were taking us all bowling that night, I unbuckled my seatbelt and kissed him. Then I lay down across his lap and looked up into his face. 

"What?" he asked. 

I just smiled at him. 

"What? You're acting weird." 

I could feel his manhood stiffen beneath the back of my head. Just my presence in his lap got him excited. I rolled my head across it to show him I was aware of how he felt. 

"Everything okay, love?" he asked. 

My smile widened. 

"Are you just going to lay there? Your mom and Mr. Jenkins will be calling if they don't hear from us soon."

I shook my head, and his cock stretched out longer and thicker.

"You know what you're doing to me, don't you?"

I nodded. 

More reaction from his lap. 

"I love you too, Jarrod French," I said. "At least I think I do. I know I hope I do."

"You don't have to say it back, Joelle."

"I do. Because I mean it, at least in the best way I can. I'm not used to knowing or understanding this kind of thing." 

He touched my cheek. I turned to kiss his palm. 

His skin warmed up on the spot where I kissed him. 

Please share this blog so we can grow! Use the links below!