anotherkilroy - Tumblr blog

anotherkilroy · 3 years ago

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Disclosure

Disclosure was just plain annoying. No, it wasn’t dangerous, but that didn’t change the fact that people were ignorant. Going online seemed like the better option, except all the mainstream dating apps asked “M or F” at the very beginning, and the queer ones that didn’t had nice folks about two hundred miles north of where they lived. So they sat at the bar, wondering if they would get the luxury of fucking someone they didn’t have to explain all of gender theory to.

Only once had they tried not saying anything. They’d gotten pretty far–naked, the guy thrusting erratically, before putting his hand on their chest and asking, “Who’s a good girl?” Their genitals went straight from lux aloe vera to a prickly, unyielding desert cactus.

So it was better to just speak up and weed them out before anyone got naked. Occasionally they were slutty and desperate enough to try and convince the guy that it wouldn’t make him gay: good pussy is good pussy. This strategy worked best when the guy was also slutty and desperate. The sex was usually quick, a little awkward, but at least it was something.

They sometimes wished they didn’t like sex so much. Then they wouldn’t have to put up with this shit. But, despite their best efforts, they did, and in all the ways they felt they shouldn’t, too. They liked hands groping their breasts and warm, wet lips on their nipples. They liked the sting of initial entry, and the way cocks felt when they reached deep inside. No dysphoria. They knew all the straight men who fucked them just saw a woman, and it wasn’t worth the trouble to change that.

They nursed their beer. Maybe they should just go home. Dildos weren’t the same as a warm body on top of them, but at least they’d do the job without explanation.

Their eyes flitted when they heard the stool scrape the cement floor. The man swallowed and clasped his hands together on the counter. His lips moved, but Jude heard nothing: then the bartender put whiskey in front of him.

Jude instantly felt less alone. They weren’t the only one who’d gone straight from work to the bar. They had almost gone home to change, maybe increase their chances by putting on something more femme or at least neutral, but then the thought had made them sick. What happened to pride? They had fought to wear this to work; they might as well wear it to get laid.

They tried to think of what they wanted to say to him. Compliment his clothes? No, men don’t respond well to that. Ask him if he just got off work. There. They cleared their throat.

“I like your tie.”

They blinked and looked over. “Oh. Thank you.”

He nodded. “You just get off work?”

He’d stolen their line. They cleared their throat again. “Yeah. I’m a paralegal… you?”

“I sell water coolers.” He sipped his drink, his fingers tapping the glass restlessly. “What kind of legal stuff?”

“Car accident settlements, mostly.”

“You like it?”

They shrugged.

He snickered. “Makes money?”

“Yeah. I like that about it.”

“I bet.” He sipped his drink in the smallest increment. Jude waited for him to say something creepy. Instead: “Money can’t buy happiness, but it sure buys security.”

They raised their eyebrows. “That’s the truth.” They scanned his fingers, and found no wedding band.

“Does it ever get sad? Working with car accidents?”

They thought about the toddler who had died a month ago. “...sometimes.” They wanted to ask about his work, but couldn’t find a good question to ask about water coolers.

“That sucks.” The gravity of his question seemed to hit him. He switched topics. “What’s your tie pin?”

It was the non-binary flag. They wore it for visibility’s sake: for the off chance that someone would see it, recognize it, and know that they weren’t alone. The non-binary flag was a good choice, because it was less known than the trans flag, so the only people who recognized it were either allies or non-binary themselves. Besides, trans made people resort to using “he”, so the non-binary flag it was. People didn’t usually ask about it; just assumed it was queer and that Jude was a lesbian. So much for visibility.

Jude bit their lower lip and silently exhaled through their nose. “...I’m non-binary. I’m not a man or a woman.”

He blinked at them. Jude waited for him to politely excuse himself to the restroom, then not come back for the rest of the night. He seemed like the type.

“Oh. Interesting.”

Jude felt a vague annoyance at the word interesting, like they were a neat little science fact one could read from a listicle online. They bit the inside of their cheek. “...So I use they/them pronouns.”

“Alright. What do you do in your spare time?”

They blinked, unsure if he had heard them. Jude was used to this: to people nodding along like they knew, unhearing and uncaring, and so not thinking twice about the inevitable she.

“...Not much. I read a lot.”

“I play a mean banjo.”

“You… what?”

“Thinking about starting a one man band. Or a Britney Spears cover band.”

“A what now?” They couldn’t stop from grinning, delight and confusion winning over. Did they just hear him right?

They had. “Toxic was always a country song.”

They rolled their eyes. “Oh my god. No!”

He laughed. He had a good laugh: childish, unashamed of his own joy. They grinned back at him. He wasn’t exactly hot, but they weren’t exactly picky, either. ...

If he wasn’t going to say anything about the body hair or the binder, he was at least going to say something about their cock. They had forgotten about it. They’d never worn it to a hookup before, but there it was, brushing against his thigh while they made out.

They pulled away, trying to decide if they should explain it to him. The binder had been taken off without comment, although he had watched with bright, curious eyes. He grabbed their chin and kissed their neck, their bare chests pressing into each other. They settled on not saying anything, determined not to apologize for it, to keep their dignity.

He surprised them by getting down on his knees. He kissed the bulge, smiling up at them as he fiddled with their belt. The dick fell to the floor with the rest of their clothes. They spread their legs.

And for a brief second they considered asking. They didn’t mind words like cunt or pussy, but maybe, via request, he could also call it their dick, something they called it themselves but never heard from anyone else.

His mouth latched on, his tongue slicking through their folds. He moaned, enjoying himself. They gasped, their fingers twisting through his hair, and all words and requests fell away.

...

“What was that word you used?”

Their head was full of dopamine. They giggled, curled into his shoulder. “What word?” Some Adult Swim show played on TV, the animation crude but colorful.

“That flag you had on your tie.”

“Oh.” They wrapped an arm around him, curling onto his chest. “Non-binary?”

“Yeah. Not a man or a woman.” He nodded. “I can dig it, I can dig it.”

“Groovy.” They chuckled.

“Funky.” He offered. They closed their eyes. He smelled so clean. His chest hair tickled their cheek. “Are there a lot?”

“A lot of what?” They’d cum so much they felt worn out and sleepy. Damn, he was good in bed. They had to get his number to do this again.

“A lot of you. Apparently there’s a whole word for it, so…”

They lazily opened their eyes. “Yeah. Well, no one really looks for us, so we’re kind of invisible, but yeah, there’s a lot of us out there. More than you’d think.”

“Cool.” They felt him nod. “Groovy. I can dig it.”

They didn’t laugh, so he went quiet. A character cursed on the screen. Jude wasn’t finding the excessive use of fuck funny. They rested against him, their eyelids heavy.

“Have you always known?”

They forced their eyes open. “...I’m not sure how to answer that.”

“Sorry, sorry. I just… I just wanna know, like, how would you know?”

They looked up at him. His face was earnest, honest. “Everything just kinda… falls into place.”

“Oh.” His eyes darted away, then turned back to them. “So you’d know, like, instantly?”

“I mean,” they shifted, propping their back up against the bed frame, “it took me some time to figure it out, I guess. Play with it a bit until it felt right.”

He nodded, adamantly. “Oh. Okay.” Then his eyes darted back to the wall, and he shivered, despite being underneath the blanket and despite the warm body curled against him. He bit his lower lip. “...Can I show you something?”

“Um.”

“I’m sorry. It’s dumb. It’s really dumb. Let’s… I can get you an uber home, if you want. I’m sorry for making it weird.”

They blinked several times at him. “You can go ahead and show me.” They hoped they wouldn’t regret this sentence. Maybe he was going to show them something creepy, like a jar of human teeth. Or maybe he had a poop fetish. Wait, what if he had a wife or girlfriend or something?

He lifted a finger, then ran out the room. They sat on the bed, secretly planning an escape route, until he came back less than a minute later with a plastic bag.

“I… I’ve never used it… I don’t know how.”

They gazed up at his outstretched hand, and reluctantly take the bag. It was going to be teeth, after all. They looked inside, prepared for the worst. They saw a case and a black tube. Confused, they took it out and laid it on the bed.

Realization shot through them. It was makeup–cheap, dollar store makeup. They looked up at him, and he bit his lower lip.

“I haven’t… looked at any of the tutorials… I, you know, I thought maybe this was just a weird fetish, or something, because I…” he scratched through his hair, “I know I don’t wanna be a woman, like I even looked up what estrogen does and I just… knew it wasn’t… like I didn’t want to… but then I felt weird, because why would I even look something like that up in the first place, it didn’t make any sense… I’m sorry.”

It’s an awkward array of things. Foundation that looks a shade too light for him. Eyeshadow with a brush too big. Bright red lipstick, the hardest shade to pull off well. Even nail polish, but there’s no clear coat.

They feel the words spilling out of their lips before they’re really aware of it. “Do you want me to do your makeup?”

He looks down at the bed, at the various cosmetics, and back at them. He gives a small nod, then creeps into the bed like it isn’t his.

“Alright… stay still. Close your eyes, but don’t scrunch them. I’ll…” they look around, “do you have any cotton swabs?”

He shook his head. “...sorry.”

“We’ll see if my finger works.” At that moment they’re overly aware that the two of them are still completely naked. It must be nearly midnight by now. They dab their fingerprint into the eyeshadow, and gingerly try to press it into his eyelid. It half works. They suddenly feel pressure to do a good job and to make him look pretty. Maybe it’ll encourage him.

He clears his throat and shivers again. “...and can you do me a favor?” He digs his teeth into his lower lip, and tries to hide his shame. “...can you… can you just try and call me… they…?”

They think of all the people who don’t see the tie pin, and of all the people that they have to overexplain everything to, and of all the men who’ve fucked them and only saw a woman on the sheets.

They smile. “I’m doing their makeup right now. They’re going to look so beautiful when I’m done.”

Jude watches their face light up, and somehow, it all feels worthwhile.

#nonbinary #short story #queer fiction #transgender #sexuality

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