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Starbound – six

October 29, 2014 Leave a comment

Darkness fell outside the vast, floor to ceiling loft window. Sylvia Volkov and Rachel Horowitz were up and out of bed and enjoying coffee before returning to the job of fitting costumes to Sylvia’s outstanding figure.
In the darkness, the large central area of Rachel’s loft had a stage-like aura. Rachel turned on a central pot light that illuminated the centre of the space. She had Sylvia stand in the pool of light while she put finishing touches to a form-fitting red body suit that was covered with sequins and had long, red fringes that swayed and danced with every move that Sylvia made.
“Let’s do a little rehearsal,” Rachel said. She put on her sound system with its huge speakers and dancing lights. The sound of Van Morrison’s ‘Have I Told You Lately That I Love You’ filled the space with deep, reverberating tones. Sylvia began to dance, her sensual movements like the weightless rise of cigarette smoke in still air.
Rachel, for all her sophistication was mesmerized by the hypnotic movements Sylvia came by naturally. She began to peel away the parts of her costume that were designed to enhance titillation in the audience. First, the long, red sequined gloves came off, then a long strip of fringes that hung to the floor. Now her long, beautifully shaped legs were revealed.
As the music built, Sylvia removed the outer suit that left her in only a sparkling red g-string and bra. As the song drew to an end, she stripped off the bra and her beautiful breasts bobbed happily with her movements. At the very last moment, the g-string came away, and Sylvia playfully faced Rachel directly and spread her thighs wide open so Rachel was looking at the vagina in the triangle of dark curly hair.
So inflamed was Rachel by Sylvia’s performance that she walked over to Sylvia, standing in the circle of light amid the large, dark space of the loft. Rachel dropped to her knees in front of Sylvia and made love to her with her mouth.
The resulting orgasm left Sylvia weak in the knees, and she folded over onto Rachel. Rachel walked slowly with her to the bed, where she lay Sylvia down and covered her up before she went to the kitchen alcove to make fresh coffee. At the same time, she turned up the other lights in the loft. The space lost its theatrical look with the lights on, and became a sophisticated urban dwelling with the quality of a design magazine cover.
Sylvia roused herself and joined Rachel at the kitchen counter. She sat on the stool opposite Rachel again, and again looked into her eyes.
“Thank you for that, Rache,” Syl said. “I owe you one.”
“Please don’t ever make love to me as a repay,” Rachel said. “I wouldn’t enjoy it. I would know what you’re doing, and I wouldn’t enjoy it. On the other hand, if you have the desire, and it’s what you want to do, I’m yours. But there’s to be no repayment or pity sex.”
“The way you make me feel,” Syl said, “I might never go near a man again.”
“Thank you,” Rachel said. “Most of us queer girls do it not so much for the sex, ‘cause sex with a man is pretty nice, but in all the non-sex aspects of life, a woman is just a more enjoyable companion. So if you’re going to love someone anyway, why not someone who is likely to be more simpatico with you.

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Starbound – five

October 28, 2014 Leave a comment

Morning found Sylvia sleeping soundly in Rachel’s bed. At first she looked around the large loft in confusion, not immediately remembering the events of the previous day and evening. She rubbed her eyes and shook her head, and recalled the warm, welcoming feeling of Rachel, holding and caressing her. Of course, Sylvia recognized the homosexual or lesbian implications of her night in bed with Rachel, but just didn’t care. She had enjoyed the benefit of a caring, gentle person, something she had not experienced in her eighteen years of life. Even her parents were cold and distant. The gang rape cured Sylvia of any expectation of gentle lovemaking from any young man.
She slid out of bed and Rachel, who was in the kitchen alcove, saw her and hurried over with a comfortable, white terrycloth robe.
“I don’t really like to cover that spectacular body of yours, Sweetheart, but I don’t want you to take ill,” Rachel said. “Now go freshen up in the Jacuzzi tub and when you come out, breakfast will be ready.
“I don’t want to put you to any trouble,” Sylvia said.
“It’s a great pleasure, Sweetheart, I assure you.” Rachel said. “Now go do your morning ablutions.”
Sylvia obediently slipped into the robe and headed for the bathroom. It was large and mirrored on almost every side. The ceiling was spotted with pot lights that illuminated the space with an even, warm light. While the tub filled, Sylvia looked over the variety of cosmetic products that helped Rachel to be ‘Blue’, the exotic dancing girl. It was obvious she took pains to obliterate the young man that he used to be.
Silvia sank into the warm water, fragrant with Algemarin’s superior scent. She turned on the jets and warm currents of water massaged her back, caressed her thighs, and wrung stress and frustration out of her body.
When she towelled herself off and emerged from the bathroom in the white robe, the fragrance of breakfast was wonderful. She joined Rachel at the eating island and sat on a stool across from her. The coffee was perfect; the eggs Benedict were flawless works of art.
“This is fantastic,” Sylvia said. “You are really something, Rachel.”
“Oh, I bet you say that to all the transsexuals,” Rachel laughed heartily.
“You’re the only one I know,” Sylvia said. “Are there more like you?”
“There are more transsexuals, Sweetheart,” Rachel said, “but there’s no one like me!”
“I can believe that,” Sylvia said, and continued to enjoy her breakfast.
“Do you know what we’re going to do this morning? Rachel said.
“I’ve no idea,” Sylvia said.
“We’re going to fit you with a half dozen of Bambi’s former costumes, and this evening you’re going to start your new career,” Rachel said.
“But I’m not ready,” Sylvia said. “I don’t know what to do?”
“Do you like to dance to music?” Rachel said.
“Yes, of course, but I’m not that great at it,” Sylvia said.
“It doesn’t matter,” Rachel said. “With a body and legs like you have, you’ll be a hit.”
Rachel stood Sylvia in the middle of the floor and peeled off her robe and tossed it aside. She stood for several seconds just looking Sylvia’s nakedness.
“You seem to not understand what you have,” Rachel said. “You are totally gorgeous.”
“You’re embarrassing me,” Sylvia said.
Rachel put a harem girl costume on Sylvia, made of the sheerest organdy with sparkling stones at the waist. She fussed around the motionless Sylvia, pinning things here and there until she finally straightened up face to face with her.
Sylvia yielded to an impulse. She slipped her arms up around the taller Rachel’s neck to pull her face down and kiss her deeply. They went to the unmade bed, dropped their garments to the floor, fell onto the bed and made love.

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Starbound – 4

October 26, 2014 Leave a comment

The sweet fragrance of marijuana smoke filled the air when Rachel lit the joint and handed it to Sylvia Volkov. They passed it back and forth a few times until the coffee was ready. Rachel made a tray of coffee and crackers with cheese and carried it into a cozy area near the huge, industrial style windows.
“I can tell you, Syl… can I call you Syl?” Rachel said and carried right on without waiting for a response. “Stripping is a good way to make a living and have free time, too, if you’re smart about it.”
“What do you mean, Rache? Do you mind if I call you Rache?” Sylvia said.
“Don’t get sucked in to living sleazy, letting the job influence real life,” Rachel said. “When I leave the gig, I come here, to my sanctuary. I go to a mall, I shop for groceries. Or I go to dressmaker’s supply, where I get stuff to make costumes.”
“You make your own costumes?” Sylvia said.
“I make everybody’s costumes,” Rachel said. “I enjoy it, and I’m experienced at it, and it pays better than the dancing does. But I like the dancing, too, y’know. Like you said, I’m exciting the guys with a body that’s not genuine. I get off on it. They don’t notice the things you noticed, my hands and feet are man sized, but not exceptionally.”
“You have a very nice male ass, too,” Rache.
“Even when I flash, they can’t tell my pussy is man made.”
“What’s ‘flash’ mean?” Syl said.
“You spread your legs and let them see your vagina,” Rache said.
“You really do that?”
“Sure, why not? It’s only a look, and the boss pays twenty-five dollars extra if you flash.” Rache said. “But that’s only in the theatre. It’s not allowed in bars.”
“What pays better?” Syl said.
“Bars pay better, but it’s a meaner environment. When guys come into the theatre they pay to get in. They’re not there to eat or drink. They’re there to be entertained,” Rache said. “Bars are about drinking, and the management always wants you to drink with them so they buy more. The barmen know that the suckers get diluted booze, and you get coloured water.”
“That’s pretty sleazy,” Syl said.
“Yes, it is. That’s why the girls like to work at the theatre even though it pays a little less. Sometimes it’s worth the sacrifice. The girls rest and recharge during their theatre gig.”
“How does your day go?” Sylvia said.
“There are two shifts. Eleven AM to six PM, six PM to one AM. You do a fifteen minute dance, flash at the end if you feel like it and get off the stage. Then, you have an hour and a half to yourself to do whatever. The theatre is in the heart of downtown and it’s surrounded by the best shopping, cinema, and restaurants in town.”
“How much could I make?” Sylvia said.
“There’s a spread,” Rache said. “If you take it easy and enjoy life, you can make six or seven hundred a week. That’s good, because remember, you only actually are on the job for an hour and a quarter a shift. The rest of the shift you’re free. If you’re wise in what you choose for street clothes and remove dramatic makeup, you can go through the underground shopping and restaurants and nobody would guess you strip.”
“And what’s the maximum, if I hustle?” Sylvia said.
“A few months ago a girl who called herself Bambi quit, because she’d earned enough to put herself through law school in just two years. But she really hustled,” Rachel said. She was about your size, and I bought back all the costumes I’d made for her when she quit. Maybe you’ll like them and they can help you get started.”
“How did she make so much so fast?” Sylvia said. “Did she become a prostitute?”
“God, no!” Rachel said. “She just really worked hard. She didn’t shop or fool around during the hour and a half between performances. As soon as she finished her act, she dressed in street clothes and hurried up the street the The Silver Goblet and did a bar act there. The money was good, and so were the tips. Then she’d run out of there and over to the Beaker Bar and do an act, also good pay and good tips, then return to the theatre to rest up before doing her act there.”
They shared another joint and Sylvia was feeling very good, very comfortable. She looked up at the large bed suspended near the ceiling.
“Do you sleep up there?” Sylvia asked.
“Don’t be silly, Sweetheart,” Rachel said. She picked up a remote control device and pressed a button. An electric winch lowered the bed until it sat on the floor.
“As you can see, Sweetheart, it’s a bed built for company. If you’ve not located a permanent abode, you’re welcome here, if you like.”
“May I lie down right now,” Sylvia said. “I’m really weary.”
“Of course, dear,” Rachel said. She stood and took Rachel’s hand and helped her off of the sofa. They were in a mellow mood, the street outside was quiet and Rachel dimmed the lights. Sylvia got undressed and slid into the bed. Rachel followed soon after. She had turned on some mellow jazz playing softly. She slid close to Sylvia and cuddled to her. Sylvia felt unique, exciting feelings. Gentle, warm hugs were never available to Sylvia, from parents, schoolmates or anyone else. She let Rachel hold her and caress her until she fell into a blissful sleep.

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Starbound – three

October 22, 2014 Leave a comment

After Blue completed her act and showered quickly in the dressing room shower stall, she dressed in street clothes and left the theatre with Sylvia. They took Sylvia’s Mustang out of the parking building with Sylvia grumbling about life in the city.
“Eighteen dollars to park a car for a couple of hours is ridiculous,” she said. They chatted as Sylvia drove. Blue directed her to where she lived.
“That’s life in the big city, Sweetheart,” Blue said with a flourish, she flipped her long blond hair with a snap of her wrist. Sylvia couldn’t help but notice that Blue made that statement with a different voice. It sounded like a male voice.
“Blue, can I ask a personal question?” Sylvia said.
“Ask away, Kid,” Blue said in her grandiose way. “The Blue hides nothing.”
“You seem to have two voices,” Sylvia said. Blue responded with elaborate gestures that would have been appropriate had she been on a stage with an audience.
“Ye-e-es,” Blue teased, “go on.”
“Are you really a man?” Sylvia blurted.
“Was, Sweetheart, was,” Blue said. “I was male until I was nineteen. My father is a doctor, and he helped me make the transition. I’ve been Rachel Horowitz for five years. Before that I was Ralph Horowitz.”
“That’s amazing,” Sylvia said. “You’re so gorgeous, and all those staring guys are fooled. You must enjoy earning a living with a converted body.”
“I enjoy attracting the nice guys,” Blue said, “and I take pleasure in irritating the mean guys.
“Is this what you wanted to do, before your changeover?” Sylvia said.
“Ever since I was a kid. My father took me to a strip show when I was about fourteen. He wanted to see if I could become interested in the female form,” Blue said and after a pause, “and I was. I wanted to look like that.”
“Well, you are really gorgeous,” Sylvia said.
Sylvia followed Blue’s directions and found herself driving in a large, dark street in the centre of the garment district. During the day, this street is packed with traffic, trucks, pedestrians and public transportation vehicles. It was eerily silent late at night, with no lights from the buildings, with only widely spaced street lamps making pools of light up both sides of the broad boulevard. Blue directed Sylvia to park beside a closed car wash.
“Where do you live?” Sylvia said. Blue led the way to a doorway between the car was and a store that sells textiles. Inside she faced a long, straight staircase just like the one at the strip theatre. At the top, Blue opened the door to a splendid loft apartment.
A bright alcove was a kitchen area with sparkling equipment that invited one to enjoy culinary adventures. A centre island with two stools on each side formed a floating separation from the large living area. Comfortable furniture was placed in two different settings, one formal and the other casual. In a shaded corner a large bed was suspended up near the vastly high ceiling.
Sylvia had never seen anything like this loft. She thought Blue, or Rachel as she asked to be called outside of work, must be a creative genius. Rachel went to the kitchen and started brewing coffee. Sylvia sat on a stool at the island counter. Rachel sat opposite her and lit a joint.

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Starbound – two

October 20, 2014 Leave a comment

The drive to the city was two-and-a-half hours into a completely different universe. It was a warm evening in July, so Sylvia Volkov put the top down on her dark green Mustang convertible and cruised slowly down the long main street. She attracted a lot of attention and comments from the guys hanging around on the sidewalk. Dumb kids, she thought, like those fucking football assholes that I’m not done with.
Sylvia noticed a sign on the second floor of a store that sold shoes. The sign read: ‘Where Ladies Dance Nude’. She saw a guy go in through a doorway between the shoe store and the record store beside it. A second later, another guy went in. Sylvia inched along in the bumper-to-bumper curb cruising traffic noticing the bars and clubs that offered strippers to attract drinkers.
She found a parking building around the corner and parked her Mustang. She was stunned that the parking fee was nine dollars an hour up to forty-five dollars. She was not going to be able to afford that for long, even though she had quite a lot of money in her savings account. Her parents each were generous to her, and often gave her large cash gifts for no reason. There was nothing in town for her to spend it on, so she just kept it in the bank.
She made her way up the crowded sidewalk to the narrow door between the two stores. She opened the street door and faced a long, straight stairway up to another door. Sylvia mounted the stairs and opened the second door. It was a dark room except for the spotlight on the stage where a girl was dancing while she removed her shirt. Immediately inside the door was an old man seated at an old counter asking for five dollars admission.
“Where’s the manager?” Sylvia said. The old man pointed at what appeared to be a control room from whence they operated the lights and music. There was a window through which Sylvia could see a couple of young men in the subdued light of the control room. She ran a gauntlet of leering men that she had to pass on her way to the control room.
Sylvia opened the door to the control room and quickly ducked inside. Both young men turned and looked at her, and were almost transfixed by her beauty, even though there was a woman dancing naked on the stage at the same time.
“I want to see the manager,” she said.
“You want a job?” both men said together.
Sylvia was hired on the spot and was sent the dressing room that was in the backstage wings. There she met five girls who were seated at a long counter that was littered with cosmetics. Each seat had a large mirror before it, surrounded with bulbs. A white phone on the wall rang. One of the girls answered it, said nothing for a few seconds and hung up. She turned to a tall, buxom black girl who was dressed like Cleopatra.
“You’re up, Chocolate,” she said. The black girl continued to smoke a joint and blow clouds of smoke into the air. Suddenly, a naked girl came in from the stage entrance carrying her costume balled up in her arms. She glistened with sweat and happily waved around a pair of ten dollar bills her fans had tossed to her.
The loudspeaker in the theatre could be heard through the wall.
“And now, ladies and gentlemen, forget about your diet because here comes Chocolate,” the announcer said. The black girl stood up, handed her half joint to Sylvia and ducked out the stage door as the sound of “Hotel California” could be heard.
“Take a toke off that thing, sweetie and hand it to me,” a slender white girl with long blond hair said. Sylvia did take in a lungful of the smoke and handed the joint to the white girl. She idly noticed that her hands seemed to be unusually large.
“Today is the first day of the rest of your life,” the girl said and then sucked in enough smoke to finish the joint in one pull. “Do you have costumes?” she said.
“I got nuthin’,” Sylvia said, letting her style of speaking drop to the flippant speech that seemed to be spoken by these girls.
“You’ll come home with me and I’ll sort you out,” the girl said. “Call me Blue. I have some outfits you could use until you choose your persona.
“Persona?” Sylvia said?
“Yes. When you know if you want to stay in this racket for a while, you might want to perform dressed like a little school girl, or a school teacher, or a harem girl. Then I could make the right costumes for you.”
“When do we start?” Sylvia said, suddenly actually interested in the stripper way of life. Maybe few hours, good pay, lots of free time.
“I go on next,” Blue said, “then we can leave.”

Confessions Of A Transition Man – part I

October 19, 2014 Leave a comment

It was never my intension to be a Transition Man. In fact, I didn’t know I was one until a woman told me I was. Even stranger, I actually never heard of Transition Men until Judy said it to me. She was a very beautiful, tall, slender married suburban mother of two teenage children. She popped up on my monitor back when I had ICQ on it.
“Hi!” she wrote. “This is Judy in Chi.”
“Hello. How did you know I would know what Chi is?” I wrote back.
“Everybody knows Chi is Chicago, don’t they?” she wrote.
“I don’t know what everybody knows,” I wrote.
As time passed, we corresponded, and I guess we both liked what we read from each other. She told me she’d married a guy who had been a platonic friend in high school. Such a pal, it seems, that he took her out to lunch the day after she lost her virginity to some other guy, I assume. Somehow, they eventually married and had first a daughter and then a son, both of whom were teenagers and in high school. Her husband had grown indifferent to her, and I suspected he had an outside lover. I still can’t understand a man who would grow indifferent to a truly beautiful woman with a remarkable body and flawless skin. One thing that especially drew me to her was her desire to do ‘everything’. She had a movie-star kind of face, a lovely body with large breasts and nipples, long legs that were very attractively shaped. Long black hair was a perfect top to the whole.
We grew to trust each other, and even feel strong affection for each other on line. Eventually, I had a good excuse to go to Chicago, and after I was checked in to my hotel room in the Ritz Carleton, I wrote to her with details of where I was. She wrote back about her estimated time of arrival, and I prepared by stripping down and putting on my Japanese silk robe. She tapped lightly on the door and I welcomed her in. She was just as beautiful as the photos she’d sent, and I hoped I measured up to the photos I’d sent to her. Apparently, I did.
I undressed her and lay her across the bed and lowered my face between her thighs. She made delightfully encouraging sounds, whimpers and moans mostly until the climax when she stifled a scream. She lay on the bed in a magnificent living graphic pose of beauty, her eyes closed as she recovered from her intense convulsions. I looked down at her in appreciation of her alabaster skin against the dark pattern of the hotel bedspread. I removed my silk robe and draped it over her. I sat at the obligatory hotel room corner table and sipped coffee I’d made with the hotel’s in-room equipment.
Looking at Judy, I was able to fully appreciate how fortunate I was that this fine, lovely, neglected woman permitted me to enjoy these special moments with her. I was attracted back to her internal sweetness and had a sudden impulse. I held hot coffee in my mouth and swallowed it at the last second before I put my lips and tongue on her vagina. She caught in her breath at the feeling and almost immediately had another series of orgasmic spasms.
As she left the room, five hours later, she said, “I never knew one could make love all day.” I had always known it and did it that way.
We met in this way once each month for about a year. During that time, she moved ahead to leave her husband and kids. She found an apartment not far from them with an extra room should they want to visit her overnight. She did not force the sale of their mutual home at that time.
When the affair had run its course and I was becoming interested in another woman closer to home, Judy and I met a final time, happily. I thanked her for the wonderful hours of love-making, and the new ‘firsts’ she had shared with me. She thanked me for being there for her, restoring her excitement in making love, and also the ‘first time’ things we explored together. Finally, she thanked me for being her ‘transition man’, from stilted married woman’s life to a level of acceptable freedom and adventure.

Starbound

October 17, 2014 Leave a comment

The word Starbound can be seen in two divers ways.  It can mean that one is on her way to stardom.  It can also mean one is hopelessly bound to stardom, as an addict is to heroin. So it was with Sylvia Volkov. She left the grubby little antisemitic town when she was eighteen.  It didn’t matter what life had in store for Sylvia, it could never be worse than what she had at home.

You might wonder how a quiet northern mining town could be dreadful.  It wasn’t dreadful to everyone, just to Sylvia Volkov. It was a working class town, blue collar sort of thing. The people there were devoted to their belief in Christ and the belief that the Jews murdered Christ. You can imagine how the teenage community tortured her.  No high school sorority asked her to join, no boys courted her, no friends.  That’s not all. Talk about layers of excuses to hate, as follows:

Her typical Jewish businessman father was the richest man in town.  He owned the biggest gas station, the bowling alley, the Chinese restaurant, the movie theatre, and had an interest in the lumber yard and the scrap yard.  There were several new, three-storey triplexes Abe Volkov had developed.  So there we have the evil Jewish landlord, and he would retain that reputation, even if he never did anything to earn it.  That’s the way people are, as you know. Then there’s his wife – Sylvia’s mother.

Sylvia’s mother, Isa Volkov, was a loud, ugly garish woman who drove around town in her yellow Mercedes Benz roadster, waving at people, shouting greetings, all the time dressed in Versace or St. Laurent or Chanel. She would barge into shops, interrupt salespeople who were in the act of serving customers and demand immediate service while the other customers should wait.  She criticized food in restaurants, produce in markets, everything was wrong and nothing was up to her standards. Her standards, of course, were developed in a mud street village in Siberia.

There was one final layer of excuses for hating Sylvia Volkov: she was gorgeous. By far the  most beautiful girl in town. Her figure was stunning, and her mix of genes had somehow created a creature of extraordinary beauty. She was five foot eight inches, a bit taller than the average girl, and almost the height of the average boy. Her body shape was the kind of natural gift that makes men gasp from five meters away. She had the kind of face, figure and skin that are usually developed in Photoshop. But it was her, in the flesh.

The teen community’s disdain for Sylvia was best exhibited when a football hero asked her to go to a movie with him.  She was suspicious, of course, but was grateful to have at least one Saturday night with something to do. The football hero took Sylvia to a remote country road where he and four other football heroes who’d been waiting there raped her. They promised the  ‘Jewess’ that if she reported this, the five of them would swear it was consensual. They’d claim she was paid ten dollars each because that’s what she asked for when she approached them with the proposition.

The next day, Sylvia got into her dark green Mustang convertible and left town for good.