Ashes to Ashes

d0d49105400d568744eb933dcaf2084bThis post refers to an earlier one, R.I.P.. I was contacted tonight concerning my brother. He will be cremated, which I knew. As I mentioned before, I was not invited to attend his funeral service. That said, they called to tell me about the cremation and said they would send me some ashes.

As any good Catholic girl would know, Catholics don’t allow ashes to be kept. You can’t put an urn on your mantle to keep your dearly beloved in sight. No, they have to be properly interred either in the ground or a memorial park.

That said, my new lovely lady — let’s refer to her from now on as “V” — a Filipina Catholic woman, showed some righteous anger on my behalf. This was the first she heard about me being asked not to come to my brother’s funeral. Appalled is a good description. I kinda like that. She is showing me a lot of, well, I would call it masculine qualities. I tend to be quite the pushover. She much more of an in your face alpha type. I could use that in my life, that’s for sure. She may be a keeper.

Meanwhile, I have to figure out what to tell my ‘family’ about the ashes. Or should I just take them and bury them myself? What an odd problem.

Dining Out Bundle LIVE

Dining Alone Bundle Dining Alone Bundle is a collection of three earlier books from my Dining Alone series. It will be no surprise that I wrote it over the first set of holidays after I disentangled myself from a live-in encumbrance. Facing being alone over Christmas, New Years etc. I took it out on my laptop. And you, the reader. Sorry.

So anyway, this tells about Sophia, a young trans woman who is nervous about her transitioning. She is convinced that everyone clocks her. Into her life comes Ann, an older lesbian who only sees a beautiful young woman. Ann just broke up with her longtime lover.

Out of convenience, they decide to spend the holidays together. From this begins a growing relationship spanning three holidays and growing more and more public.

Here is the excerpt:

“Have you ever been with a woman?” Ann asked.

“I haven’t been with anyone before.” There was a period of silence.

“So you’re a virgin. Well, I guess we all were at one time.” More silence.

“More wine?” Ann asked before pouring out the remainder of the bottle into their glasses.

Tension was growing in the room. They both felt it. Where their hips touched Sophia felt heat radiating. Under the comforter Ann moved her hand over to rest on Sophia’s thigh, giving it a squeeze. In response Sophia leaned her head against Ann and sighed.

“Feeling adventurous?” Ann asked.

“Sure. We’re out of wine.”

Ann pulled the comforter from them. The room was lit by the flickering flames of the fireplace. She reached out to put a hand against Sophia’s cheek, looking her in the eyes. Sliding her hand to the back of her head she kissed her lightly on the lips. She tasted of wine.

Pulling back she reached down to unbutton Sophia’s blouse. She studied her small breasts, gently squeezing them. The nipples hardened. Finally she leaned down to press her lips against them, kissing and nibbling, drawing a soft groan from Sophia.

Sophia unzipped the back of Ann’s dress, sliding it off her shoulders. Her large breasts hung enticingly, begging her to carefully pull them from her bra. Ann’s nipples were already hard. Sophia teased them with her fingers, then cupped the fullness.

“These are beautiful, Ann. I hope mine get this big.”

“I like yours,” she responded. “You must look fantastic dressed up. You’re built like a model. I’m built like a mom feeding a brood.”

“Talking about feeding,” Sophia said, leaning to draw the nipple and areole into her mouth, sucking loudly. Ann laughed.

“Let’s get these off.” Both women shed their clothing until they sat across from each other watching the flames reflect off their naked bodies.

I enjoyed writing these books… very cathartic. I hope you enjoy reading them. There’s romance, heartbreak, suspense and sex sex sex. Now available on Amazon at Dining Alone Bundle.

I Just Gotta Proof More

d802d2800c7875ad2833eb668d8a97baUnable to concentrate enough to write a new book this week, I decided in order to maintain my once a week publishing routine I would just bundle an earlier series. In this case my Dining Alone series about a young trans woman and an older lesbian.

Whenever I create a bundle I reread each story. My method of writing: I go straight through the first draft, then proof on screen, print and make final edits. Once it’s published I don’t go back… I’m on to the next one.

With that routine, you can leave some funny stuff. I came across this sentence:

Both ladies were in excellent shape, attractive women wearing designer dresses and shoes who took care of themselves.

Now, it is possible that with the price of the shoes I imagine my characters wearing that the shoes do, indeed, take care of themselves. However, I believe this is rather an example of sloppy writing. Love it. Good thing I have no great aspirations LOL.

Triggered memories

I am reading a book by a friend of mine, and in the opening pages the character is talking about her childhood. And just like that <finger snap> a memory jumped out at me.

My mom always wanted a girl. My dad traveled a lot in his work (military) and was gone for long stretches of time either on TDY or deployment. That left mom and I alone.

Somehow — I never knew from where, she never said — she came up with all these little girl clothes. I mean I wasn’t a teenager yet, can’t recall the exact age. So my youth found me dressing as a boy to go to school and as a little girl at home. As we lived out away from town we had no neighbors. I had no friends to play with. Just me and mom. And the cutest little frocks!

And on Halloween. You know what I’m going to say, don’t you. My mom would really doll me up, especially as I hit my teen years. Full make-up, high heels, wig, the whole nine yards. I personally loved looking at myself in the full length mirror. Ahhh, to be slim again.

The first time I went out in public like that on Halloween I was so young that when a car pulled up next to me and said something along the lines of ‘hey baby, want a blow job’ (too long ago to remember the exact words, but you get the gist) I had no idea what it meant! Haha. All I could think of was he was offering me some sort of employment. Was the job for me? Or for him because he was looking for a job? I just walked faster. Hey, I could have had my first sexual experience. Or been killed.

Instead my first experience came when the neighborhood grew up around us and we finally had neighbors. I was early teens by now. Kids would come over to want to play. I remember being in a blouse and skirt when a boy came over to play. No one was ever to catch me like that. Mom kept this a secret, obviously, especially from dad! The next thing I knew he asked me ‘do you want to feel what a girl feels?’ as he pushed me face down (pushed sounds aggressive… I was totally consenting). So I was face down and he fumbled with my panties and fucked me in the ass. (By the way… still my favorite position!)

Ahhh, memories.  By the way, that boy went on to become a doctor. I wonder if he became  a gynocologist!! Hahahahaha.

R.I.P.

IMG_0703This is a follow-up post to an earlier post Sadness. My brother has indeed, passed. Just wanted to note that he was a fantastic brother when I was growing up. He was eight years older and always took care of me, protecting me from bullies. I loved him.

I was worrying about how to go to the funeral, old me/real me… moot point. I am not invited to attend. Sad.

Sadness

d8b935effa5baed716ba82010e7cf0b4I just got a call from my niece. My brother is in a coma. He fell, hit his head, and was taken to the emergency room. Due to his age and health problems, the doctor recommended he not even be operated on. But at the niece’s insistence, they did. Now it’s just a waiting game. Should he pass I’ll go to his funeral.

The issue is this. It didn’t go well when I transitioned. To put it mildly. As a point of fact, I haven’t had communication with any relatives of mine since. I’m cool with that. Everyone has to live with their decisions on either side of the issue. They made theirs… I made mine.

But in this case, they contacted me about him (and yes, they called me ‘uncle’ the whole conversation, even after I corrected them to ‘aunt’.). They wanted me to talk to God for them (they’re agnostics). “We want all our bases covered.” Fair enough. I will. I’ll have my priest do a special mass for him during weekday mass.

The issue for me is this… when I go to the funeral — if he indeed passes — do I go as me or as the me they remember? They have never seen me since the beginning. I’m about fifty pounds lighter and a whole lot shapelier. More hair, too, thanks to the magic of wigs. The funeral won’t be about me, but about honoring the deceased. While I’d love to put on a black dress and veil, I’m thinking about dragging out an old, ill-fitting suit and going butch. Too bad. I look better in black.

Just sharing.