By

Donna M.

 

I met her in a bar not far from work.  The place wasn�t necessarily a gay bar, but the clientele usually included enough good looking women from nearby offices that I never felt out of place.  The day had been more stressful than usual, so my drink of choice was a double martini.  I needed it.  And it wasn�t the only thing I needed.  As usual I lamented the sad state of my love life.  Sure, more women came out every day, and yet I�ve found that to most of them (the ones I�ve met, at least) it was the chic thing to do, like it was a phase or something.  The situation made for some great one-nighters, but didn�t help me find love or the gal of my dreams.  Since one of my so-called friends referred to me as The Ice Queen, I�d been wondering lately about the cause of my troubles in the love department.

She sat down two barstools away and ordered a Cosmo.  Too much of a girly drink for me, but everyone has their own tastes, I thought.  Sneaking a glance or two over at her, my first impression was dark beauty�South or Central American origin, maybe.  Raven hair, long legs, nice curves, full lips.  Interesting.  Very interesting.

�Serious drink.  Are you a serious woman?� she said out of the blue.  A pick-up line for sure.  No discernible accent.

�Not always, but after the day I�ve had��

�Yeah, I know what you mean, honey.  Unwind City, here I come,� she said, taking a sip of her drink.

Honey, huh?  Yes, certainly a pick-up try, so I brazenly looked her over.  A short, navy skirt exposed well-proportioned café-au-lait thighs.  Her white silk blouse advertised full breasts, her bra unable to hide the hint of prominent nipples topping them. 

�Unlike mine, your drink doesn�t appear that serious.  Are you like your drink?�

She turned the most alluring pair of green eyes toward me and said, �Honey, I can be as fruity as this drink, but I can be serious when I want to be too,� she said with a throaty voice.  �Should I be serious now?� 

God�those eyes!  �It depends on what you want to be serious about.�  Amazing!  I usually was the aggressor in pick up situations; so maybe my history exposed my desperation.

She boldly said, �Since my place is only a block away, I can show you.�  Damn, I was soaked and I was hooked.  She paid my tab.  When she stood, I realized how tall she was.  Maybe five-ten or eleven.  Her curves promised delight, and those hot legs!

In that sexy, throaty voice of hers, she told me about herself, where she worked, etcetera.  I gave her a quick rundown of my life situation as she put her hand around my waist, and then slowly moved her hand to my ass as we walked.  Her apartment was sleekly modern, all chrome and ebony.  She offered me another martini and proceeded to mix one, surprisingly pouring a couple of fingers of high-end bourbon for herself instead.

�So, honey, what�s your name?�

It seemed strange that I was in her apartment with a dripping wet pussy before we actually introduced ourselves.  That must be an indication of how horny I was.  �I�m Dana.�

�I�m Marcy,� she said.  We were sitting on her sofa, close together but not intimately close.  Not yet, anyway.  �Today was my first visit to that particular bar, and now I�m glad I stopped in.�

�I have a feeling I�ll be glad you stopped in too,� I said as I slid closer and offered my lips to her.  Her tongue proved to be very active, and that was okay with me.  I wanted to surrender, to be taken, to be dominated, and this tall, spectacular woman was the perfect candidate.

Her hand was soon inside my blouse, then under my bra.  She kneaded, squeezed and caressed each in turn.  I purred.  I love a woman with strong hands.  �You have nice, firm breasts,� she murmured after our lips parted.  �All natural too.�  Then I discovered that hers were augmented.  I wasn�t bothered by implants, as long as they weren�t outrageous.  Marcy�s didn�t feel outrageous, and as I teased her nipples she responded nicely.  �Oh yes,� she whispered, �good, real good�yes��  Her hand moved down, down under my skirt, then in under my panties, slowly, teasingly rubbing my bald pubic mound.  �Mmmm, you�ve waxed nicely�for Marcy?� she said with a chuckle.  Her fingertips taunted my aching clit for a few moments before slipping between my labia.  �Oh, wet for Marcy too!� she exclaimed.

I didn�t ask, I begged.

�Dana�Dana�in time�in time,� she purred in reply to my pleas.  Marcy slipped from beside me on the sofa, stood up long enough to remove her blouse and bra, and then sank to the floor between my splayed legs.  Up went my skirt, down came my panties, and in went her tongue.  God, her tits were perfect.  Obviously firm from the implants, yet they looked much more natural than most, and the nipples were spectacular.  I wanted to touch them, play with them, suck on them, but I had to wait since she was expertly getting me off orally.

�Yes�oh yes�oh�oh�yes�yes�oh�� I repeated up until the first orgasmic wave swept over me.

�Oh my, Dana�s a tasty one,� she said, looking up at me while licking my juices from her full lips.  Then she went back to work on me.  This next orgasm had me holding her head tight with both my hands and my thighs, like I was drawing her into me, devouring her as she devoured me.

She led me to the bedroom, losing clothing as we went.  By the time we landed upon her bed, I was naked and she was down to only a thong.  I wanted her pussy so badly but I waited while I took the time to caress her marvelously firm breasts.  She whispered first �That feels so deliciously good� before �I want you.�

When she stood suddenly and slipped off the thong, I couldn�t help but gasp.  �Oh no, I can�t�I can�t,� I blubbered.

Marcy had a cock.

How did I miss it?  Should I have seen clues, or was I too horny to see them?  She saw my distress, and probably had been dreading it all along, as she said, �Oh Dana honey, don�t be like that.  I�m all woman except for this.�

The �this� wasn�t such a trifling issue I could ignore. I picked up my discarded clothes and hastily dressed.  I didn�t say another word as I fled her apartment, leaving her sobbing.  I didn�t cry until I was home.  Why do these things happen to me? I lamented to myself, and I supposed to God as well, though I wasn�t sure if I still believed in Him.  Him: maybe that�s always been my problem.  If God is a man then no wonder the world is so fucked up, I thought.

Frustration took on many subsequent forms.  For a few days I reflected upon all my past girlfriends, hating each one.  I was miserable at work.  I was miserable at home.  I didn�t go out.  I ate too much, using comfort foods as a palliative salve for my psyche.  Jackie, one of my old flames at work made a rebound play for me.  After the initial rush of physical arousal, Jackie and I never clicked emotionally.  I thought she was too full of herself, and ironically she felt the same about me.  If she wanted to think of me back then as cold and self-centered, why would I allow her to use me as her post-breakup painkiller?

The Ice Queen�s bed remained solitary confinement.

What added to my pain was remembering the spark I experienced when I met Marcy that day in the bar.  How could that have happened, and why does the entire scene still bother me?  I was pondering the many questions in my mind when Monroe stopped by my desk late in the afternoon.

�Why have you been so gloomy lately?  I�ve never seen you so down, so let�s blow this place and go get a drink.�

With her looks and personality, Monroe always turned me on.  She rejected every advance I ever made, and I made many, saying that she was heterosexual all the way, happily married, and didn�t want to tease me beyond us being friends.  And friends we�ve remained.  �I definitely could use that drink,� I said.  �But I doubt I�d be good company.�

�I�m not looking for company, Dana.  I�m looking to be your shrink and have you tell me all about your problems so I can cure you,� she said with a twinkle in her eyes.

I bristled for a microsecond on her use of �cure,� but I knew she didn�t mean it the way others have about my homosexuality.  I looked at her, dazzled once more by her beauty, and said, �One night in bed with you would cure a lot of what ails me.�

She tilted her head and gave me a reproachful look that was definitely exaggerated.  �We�ve been down that road before, girl.  Let�s just have that drink or two and we�ll talk.  You can dump all your troubles on me and it won�t be a burden, I assure you.�  In some sort of Freudian design, I suggested we have our drinks at the same bar where I met Marcy.  It wasn�t a gay clientele that afternoon either, though I did see and say hello to a couple of past lovers.  Monroe was intrigued by the scene.  She asked, �Is this like your pick-up bar?�

�Not really,� I said, �but I have hooked up with a few girls here now and then.�

�Them?� meaning the girls I said hi to.

�Actually, I met them other places, but yes, they�re past pick-ups.�

After a sip of her drink, Monroe said, �I was wondering if you chose this place specifically to seduce me.�

�Oh dear, if there was any chance of seducing you, the place wouldn�t matter.�

�I have to tell you, Dana, that I�m flattered by your attempts, I really am.�  She scanned the room, finally looking in the direction of Janice, one of the ladies I�ve slept with.  �I�m into men too much to change, but I do appreciate your attention.  Now tell me what�s been bringing you down.  Did you just break up with someone?�

I told her about meeting Marcy and how conflicted I was about what happened, or more accurately what didn�t happen.  Opening up to her took a second drink, which I downed much too quickly.  With blurring at the edges of my sight, I blurted out my frustrations of not finding Ms. Right.  True to her word, Monroe was a good listener.

�I know people call me The Ice Queen,� I said, �but I don�t think I�m cold at all.  If anything I�m too passionate, too emotional for my own good.�

I could see her working on a reply.  Finally she said, �Yeah, I�ve heard the Ice Queen stuff.  I think sometimes your passion is more in one direction than in the other�you understand what I�m saying?�  I was about to say Not really when my eyes fell upon Marcy entering the room.  I wasn�t the only one looking; for most eyes in the place were on the beautiful t-girl.  Monroe must have seen my expression, for she asked, �Is that her?�

�Yes� was the only thing I could say, still stunned by Marcy�s hot beauty and the memories of that day in her apartment.

Monroe lowered her voice and said, �She�s not what I pictured.  She�s beautiful�extremely passable, I�d say.  No wonder you didn�t suspect anything.�  As she headed to the bar, Marcy and I made eye contact and she stopped.  Was she hoping for a replay?  She didn�t get one as I broke the eye contact and went back to looking at Monroe.  Marcy went to the far corner of the bar, ordered a drink and started chatting up the blond next to her.  Monroe watched her before turning back to me and with a blush asked me how big Marcy was.

�I�m not the one to ask about cock sizes,� I said, �but I�d venture a guess she�s bigger than average, maybe eight or nine inches.�

�Wow, really?� she said.  �Did she�was she�?�

�Hard, you mean?  Yeah, somewhat.�  I then tried to be flippant and added, �She was looking at me, after all.�

My comment flew right over Monroe�s head.  Her attention was on the t-girl at the bar.  Was it the novelty, or did her question about cock size indicate it was more than that.  Abruptly she said, �Would you mind if I invited her over here?  I�d love to see how she looks close up.�

�Would it matter if I minded?�  It didn�t, since she was already up and walking toward Marcy.

I watched the tête-à-tête with dread, not quite able to wrap my brain around Monroe�s interest, which bordered on arousal.  While they talked, both Marcy and the blond looked my way.  They talked and occasionally laughed, getting along nicely while I sat alone and guzzled another drink.  It seemed like hours though after a few minutes all three of them walked over and joined me in the booth.

Marcy slid in opposite me with Monroe sliding in next to her, leaving the blond stranger to sit next to me after I scooted over.  �Hi Dana, how have you been?� Marcy said.  Oh, those lips, that face, that sultry voice; why couldn�t I have those without the other?

�I�m good, Marcy.  How about you?�

�Pretty good�pretty good�now that I�ve met this lovely creature over here,� she said, indicating Monroe who was blushing.  Was Marcy feeling her up under the table?  My, oh my!  Marcy introduced the blond as Sonia.  Sonia leaned in and kissed me on the cheek, making no bones about which side of the fence she resided on.  She was a bit older than the rest of us, seemingly very jaded and world-weary.  Close up, she wasn�t pretty either, though her body looked serviceable.  The small talk on my side of the table was inconsequential, our interest more naturally drawn to the drama unfolding on the other side.  There was definitely some handiwork going on under the table, and I grew extremely jealous because of it.  Why, after lusting for Monroe for so long and being rejected by her, claiming fidelity to her marriage and all that, was she so blatantly throwing herself at a transgender?  It wasn�t fair.

Sonia bought the next round.  After the drinks were served she slid her hand under my skirt.  I was too detached�depressed even�to stop her or acknowledge what she was doing.  I figured it was inevitable that Monroe would soon go to Marcy�s place as I had.  Assuredly the outcome would be different.  Sonia and I said goodbye as the two of them sashayed out of the bar, the usually sophisticated Monroe giggling like a schoolgirl on Marcy�s arm.  Sonia�s fingers finally managed to get inside my panties.  If she was disappointed I hadn�t gotten wet, she didn�t show it.

�You�re gorgeous,� she whispered in my ear as she nibbled on my earlobe. �How about we go to my place and make some music?�

I detested the line, and hated the image in my head of those two fine asses that just swiveled their promise as they walked away.  I�d go with Sonia.   I may or may not get off.  I may or may not be able to wipe the thought from my head of Marcy fucking beautiful Monroe.  I may or may not be able to ignore my imagination�my fantasy�of what Monroe cries out when she orgasms.  I may or may not be able to face myself in the mirror tomorrow morning.

�Sure, let�s go,� I said.

I was as unimpressed with Sonia�s apartment as I was with her.  Her nervousness was puzzling, so I changed my mind and guessed that her lesbianism was a newfound twist.  Perhaps she was a divorcee who grew too tired of men, or perhaps she was simply stepping over to the wild side.  I played the passive one and allowed her to undress me and explore my body.  Her pussy licking was tentative so I was forced to abandon passivity and give her pointers.

�My clit,� I begged.  �Focus on my clit.�  She tried but it wasn�t her energy level that doomed us, it was my resignation.  The Ice Queen couldn�t escape her fate.  I faked an orgasm before giving her one, her back arching and her hips bucking off the bed as she screamed.  She confessed later in bed that I�d been correct; her lesbianism was a new lifestyle, though she adamantly proclaimed it was permanent.

�If you�ve sworn off dick, did you know in the bar that Marcy had one?� I asked.

Her jaw dropped.  I wasn�t the only one fooled.  She said, �I never would have guessed.  I mean, she�s so damned beautiful, and I kissed her.  It wasn�t all make-up.  Oh God!�

I understood her amazement all too well.

I went home, alone once again; one more night in an otherwise empty bed.  I wondered if Monroe would spend the night with Marcy.  I coldly examined my jealousy and recognized it was silly.  Monroe has always proclaimed her straightness, and wasn�t Marcy basically a man?  That�s the part I had trouble dealing with�Marcy as �him� or �her.�  Jealousy didn�t make sense but that didn�t mean I couldn�t remain jealous.

The next day at work, Monroe was obviously avoiding me.  It was her prerogative not to talk to me about her tryst, so I wasn�t going to pursue her like a nosy parker even though I was dying of curiosity.  Maybe it was guilt but later in the afternoon she cornered me and invited me into her office.  Closing the door, she blurted, �I�m so sorry, Dana.  I�ve never cheated on Bill�never.  I don�t know what happened to me.�

�You don�t need to explain yourself,� I replied.  �Whatever you did last night was your business.�

�I don�t know.  I feel guilty because all this time I�ve been telling you no and I end up sleeping with another woman.�

�It�s not the same, I guess.  You wanted Marcy�s cock when I told you how big it was.  That it�s attached to someone who looks like a woman is beside the point.�

�But it is the point, and that�s why I�m telling you all this,� she said, hesitating as if she were catching her breath.  �Marcy is a woman who likes women.  She didn�t want to fuck me, even after I gave her the best blow job ever.  She wanted to hold me, lick my pussy, that�s all.  I had the greatest orgasm of my life!�  Her present glow indicated that the feeling was still with her.  My jealousy was back in full force; why couldn�t I bask in that glow?  She continued, �You won�t believe this but she kept talking about you, asking questions.�

�She talked about me?� I said dubiously

�You must have made an impression on her.  Much more than the one I made.�  I couldn�t gauge her expression when she said that.  Monroe didn�t look like it disappointed her as much as her words conveyed.  For a brief moment I thought I had an opening to get to her opening, but now it sounded more like she got her lesbian lick tickled and out of the way.  �Oh by the way, did you�you know�sleep with the blond? ...Sonia was her name, right?�

I gave her a tepid, noncommittal answer that summed up my evening nicely.  I told Monroe that I was happy she had a good time with Marcy, and asked the question I was dying to ask.  �Will you see her again?�  Her equally noncommittal answer was my confirmation; a one-night-stand and back to her husband.  We went back to work; both of us lost in the forest of regrets.

I went back to the bar after work.  Was I hoping to see Marcy? I didn�t feel like doing any soul-searching for that answer.  What I felt like doing was getting drunk.  I did a good enough job that the bartender had to help me into the cab, but not too good a job that I�d get robbed or raped before I got home.  A cold bed and a massive hangover�lucky girl!  Visiting the bar after work became my daily ritual.  I got hit on by several men, but no women.  And no sign of Marcy either.  I figured that if any lesbians were in the bar they must feel the cold oozing from The Ice Queen.

One evening while I was one drink away from blottoville I was surprised to see Monroe approaching.  When she sat next to me I asked in my sexiest slurred voice, �What are you doing here?  More cheating on Bill?�

�Let me take you home.  Dana, you can�t let yourself go like this.  Please.�

I leaned closer and kissed her cheek, saying �You can take me home if you spend the night with me.�

She looked so sad.  �I�ll do that if you stop drowning yourself in booze and self pity.�

I was shocked.  �You mean that?  You want to sleep with me?�

She looked downward, avoiding eye contact.  �If that�s what it takes,� she finally said.

I almost said let�s go but a voice in my head, one I rarely listen to, was telling me not to succumb to my selfish desires.  I kissed her once more on the cheek and said, �I love you, you know, and that�s the problem.  We�d have sex and it would be divine, but then you�d go home to your husband and I�d still be alone.�

�I�ve known all along how you felt about me.  I knew it wasn�t just lust,� she said with a tear beginning its slow descent on her lovely face.  �And maybe it�s always scared me a little�not the sex but the cheating�Bill��  Another tear joined the first.  �Then I did the stupid thing with Marcy.  It really was the wrong thing to do.�  I leaned into her but instead of a kiss I licked the tears from her cheek like I wanted so much to lick another part of her.  She pulled a slip of paper from her purse and handed it to me.  She said, �Call her.  She�s what you need but can�t face it.  Call her.�

A phone number was written on the small scrap of paper.  I knew instantly to whom it belonged.

I tried to kiss her on the lips but she shook her head and pulled away.  �I love you,� she said before taking a deep breath.  �Please stop drinking and make that call.�  Crying, she stood and began to walk away.

�Let me love you,� I said and instantly recognized it was the wrong thing to say.  She shook her head but didn�t look at me again as she walked out.  However, other patrons were now staring at me.  Did I look as pathetic as I felt? 

I glanced again at the phone number and thought to myself what the fuck, pulled out my cell and keyed it in.  When she answered, I said, �Hi Marcy, this is Dana.�  She cautiously answered �Hi� and I froze, suddenly at a loss for words.  Marcy filled the silence by asking if I was okay.  I was happy she didn�t ask what I wanted.  At least not yet.  �I�m so sorry for how I reacted�how I treated you.  Can we try again?� I said, hearing the bathos in my alcohol-inspired voice and not proud of it.

�Dana, honey,� she said in her smoky tones, �I assumed you got this number from Monroe.  I�m not happy with being a rebound lover.  That�s why you�re calling, right?  Monroe rejected you again and now you want Marcy to soothe the pain.  Sorry, but that�s not what I�m about.�

Tears were flowing and I didn�t try to stop them.  �No, no, that�s not why I�m calling,� I said, though to my own ears I didn�t sound too convincing.  �I�m�I�m�so fucking lonely and I�m pissed off at myself with how I treated you�that�s why I�m calling.�

Silence met my outburst, along with weird looks from the bartender and others around me.  Just when I thought she hung up, she said, �Dana baby, you�ve had too much to drink.  Go home, sleep it off, and if you still want to see me tomorrow, call me.�  Then she hung up.  Given how pathetic I felt, I considered what she said promising.  The bartender called for a taxi, and I made it home in one piece; sad, crying, alone, broken-hearted but otherwise okay.

I spent the next day contemplating calling Marcy.  What I was really considering was what seeing Marcy again meant to me.  What did I want out of it?  That was the million dollar question I kept asking myself, not just about Marcy but about any potential relationship.  What I wanted was not to be alone.  Was that a good enough reason for anyone but me?  I called Marcy several times over the next few days without an answer.  Wondering if she was avoiding me, I put my despondency on like a well-worn hat and went to the bar.  Maybe I�d get picked up; a one-nighter would be better than nothing at all.

Nursing my second drink, I chatted up a curvy blond who initiated the contact.  Vibes said she wasn�t a card carrying member of the �L� club but liked to troll the waters every once in a while.  She had a few too many pounds on her than I usually go for yet she wasn�t bad looking and I was desperate.  While we talked she kept at least one hand on me; my shoulder first and then my side before sliding it down to my ass.  I didn�t mind.  I began to fantasize how she�d taste when a familiar voice spoke up behind me.

�Hi Dana.  Hi Heather.  Good to see you�re both having fun.�  Marcy looked amazing, even more sexily beautiful than when I saw her last.  Heather obviously knew Marcy too, and beat me to the invitation to join her and me.  Since a bar stool was open on either side of us, I wondered where Marcy would choose to sit.  When she sat beside me I smiled.  I offered to buy her a drink, and then I put my mind to pondering whether bi Heather knew what was in Marcy�s panties like I did.

I let the small talk flow around me without investing much in the process.  Marcy spoke mostly about how great her job was going and gossiped about some of her female clients, including a few she clearly wanted to bed down.  Heather asked Marcy a few veiled questions that nevertheless answered my earlier question.  She knew.  Was I the only ignorant, non-observant fool around?  The conversation eventually shifted to the centerpiece in this trio�me.  Marcy wanted to know how my work was going.  As she spoke she drew closer to me as if she was about to kiss me.  Gazing into her eyes this close I felt myself melting and I wasn�t even talking about the drizzle between my legs.

At the same time, Heather leaned closer as well and whispered, �She likes you a lot.  I can tell.  She never looks at me like that.�

She sounded a lot like Monroe.  Melting: maybe it was about time to let the Ice Queen thaw.

I leaned the other way toward Marcy, and with my lips nearly touching hers, whispered �I want you to come over to my place. If you say yes, you need to say if it�s the two of us or three.�

In a voice more throaty than usual, Marcy said, �I think I�m too much woman for you darling.  Why don�t we see if three works for you?�

I picked up the bar tab and soon the three of us were in a taxi headed to my place.  Heather boldly felt me up, and seemed to appreciate what she touched.  In my apartment, Heather acted like she wanted to get right to the sex part.  On the other hand, Marcy seemed content to look around and compliment my décor.  When I pooh-poohed her praise she stared at me sternly and said, �See Dana, there you go again, putting yourself down, which is surprising for a girl who clearly thinks of herself first.�

I thought was that me?  Of course it was�The Ice Queen�cold and unfeeling, or feeling only self-pity.

How we ended up in the shower was anyone�s guess.  I poured drinks for the three of us.  We talked about nothing at all.  Heather decided that finger-fucking me was her vocation, and voila�we were soon undressed and under the shower spray.  You know how when you think about something you can�t forget it no matter how hard you try afterward?  That�s how I was with Marcy�s cock.  It was the elephant I couldn�t forget about.  It was there, rubbing against me, slowly growing erect as I pretended it wasn�t.  I didn�t know cocks; however hers seemed to be a rather large one, and no doubt a prize to a straight person.

I climbed from the shower when it became clear to me that Heather and Marcy had some unfinished business.  I toweled dry while listening to Heather�s moans become louder until they morphed into ululating shrieks.  Just great, I thought, I�m in my own apartment, as horny as hell listening to another woman climax, and basically isolated and alone once again.  Self pity was becoming my religion.  I went to my bedroom and cried.

Probably because they heard me crying, Marcy and Heather were tentative in their entry to the bedroom.  �Dana baby, are you okay?� Marcy asked me.

�Yeah, I�m peachy,� I answered while stifling a sob. 

God, was Marcy something to behold!  If I ignored what was hanging between her legs she was the most gorgeous woman I�d ever seen.  Why couldn�t she have a vagina?  I couldn�t ignore the cock no matter how I tried.  It wasn�t exactly hanging limp; extending out a bit, all fat, long, hideous, still wet from Heather�s vagina, and adorned with a bit of semen on its uncircumcised head.  Who could possibly desire that?

Marcy saw me looking at what I didn�t wish to look at.  She said, �Dana, do you own a dildo?�

Where did that come from?  �Ah, yes I do.  It�s in the drawer over there,� I said, pointing toward my dresser.  She unabashedly opened the drawer and fished it out.  It wasn�t really a dildo, at least anatomically speaking, being more of an amorphous cylinder that used to vibrate but now was broken.  �Why do you ask?�

She turned its knob and discovered its non-operational condition.  �When it worked, did you insert it in your vagina or did you use it only on your clit?�

�Both, I guess.�

She grabbed her cock and shook it at me, saying �Then what�s the difference?  You think sexual preference is all about body parts?  If I didn�t have this would I be more of a woman?  Damn you, I�m a woman as much as you are, and maybe more so.  At least I care about who I fuck.�

During the exchange, Heather climbed onto the bed next to me and began caressing my body parts with her soft hands.  In spite of myself I responded immediately. �Oh yeah, right there,� I groaned, �right THERE!�  She may be bisexual.  She may not be the prettiest or have the greatest body.  However, she did know what to do to me.  Heather switched from fingertips to tongue at just the right time.  I saw Marcy watching us and shake her head before my eyes rolled back and my orgasmic convulsions took me away.

My reciprocation was half-hearted at best.  Heather put on a good show, though I suspected her orgasm was mostly exaggerated for my benefit.  In the meantime, Marcy sat on a bedside chair and watched us some more while holding her re-erect cock.  When I collapsed next to Heather, Marcy said, �I figured a pretty lady like you would be a good lover, Dana.  I guess I need to show you how.�

When she rose from the chair and came onto the bed, I cringed because I thought she was coming to me.  Instead, Heather once again was the object of her attention.  Marcy showed me, alright.  What a talented tongue on that woman!  Heather came quickly, and Marcy never let up, keeping Heather�s climax going and going.  This one wasn�t exaggerated.  I pondered the transformation that was ongoing in my mind.  Marcy was no doubt a �she� and when I couldn�t see her cock, like now with her lying on her stomach and her face buried in Heather�s pussy, I recognized how truly desirable she was.  Her cock was not a detachable accessory however, and it didn�t seem I could move past that fact.

When Heather saw Marcy�s sizable erection, she asked if she could �relieve� her.  Marcy responded, �Oh yes honey, yes!...but maybe not in front of the Ice Queen.  She only takes pleasure, not giving it, so she wouldn�t understand.�

I was pissed.  This was my home and Marcy had no right to dismiss me like that.  �Go ahead,� I said to Heather. �Blow her if you want, I don�t care.�

Marcy laughed and said, �See what I mean; she doesn�t care�ain�t that the truth.  Be careful, sugar, you might someday find a crack in the ice, and you just might fall in an� drown.�

In defiance I sat in the chair and watched Heather suck Marcy�s cock.  As disgusted I was with the idea of it, I grudgingly conceded that Heather�s mouth action was extremely sensual.  I found myself staring, much like a passerby stopping to gawk at an accident scene.  For some unfathomable reason, I wanted to see the act�s conclusion.  Marcy groaned throughout, sounding to me like any woman about to cum.  Heather must have sensed that Marcy was close, for she went faster until Marcy cried out �Oh Lord, I�m cumming!�  Heather let Marcy�s cock slip from her mouth in time to get a several-shot facial coating.  I thought, now that is disgusting.

The two of them giggled like teenagers as they pranced off to use the shower.  My shower.  As they walked by me, I watched Marcy�s breasts jiggle and her ass cheeks marvelously sway.  If only�if only�

I didn�t join them.

Before they left, Marcy said, �I�m sorry, Dana.  Maybe someday.�  Then she kissed me.  The kiss melted me like nothing else could.  I forgot her snide comments about me earlier.  I forgot about what was between her legs.  What I didn�t forget about was my need�the need to be loved, to not be alone.

�Some day,� I echoed with voice that didn�t sound like mine.

I had a strong nightcap, drowning my sorrows like I�ve been doing a lot of lately.  In bed I mentally pictured Marcy hovering above me, her tits teasingly touching mine, nipple to tingling nipple.  I masturbated furiously and came with a stifled scream.

I dreamed of strange things I did not wish to remember in the morning.

I confessed the entire sordid scene to Monroe when we were alone at work.  �Now that�s a threesome I would�ve liked to watch,� she said, quite amused, probably by her mental picture of me and Marcy�s cock.

�C�mon, it�s not funny.  I tried to embrace her as a woman and couldn�t do it.  Then that ugly blow-job�yuck.�

�Okay, I won�t joke about it.  You just told me that Marcy said it wasn�t about body parts, and I happen to think she�s right.�  She sighed and continued, �I�m not exactly proud of cheating on my husband with Marcy, but I realize now why it wasn�t a great experience.  It wasn�t guilt that spoiled things; it was that she�s a woman.�

�Huh?  I don�t get it.�

�You should.  I saw her as a big cock, not as a person.  I was aroused by the idea of a kinky tryst with a well-endowed partner.  She spoiled my fantasy by being a woman.  Don�t you see, Dana?  I love men.  They happen to have cocks but that�s not why I love them.  You see, Marcy was right.  It�s not about body parts.  It�s not about what she has but about who she is.�

Marcy had been right about something else, too.  I needed Monroe to shove it in my face.  I have been more interested in taking than giving, just like Marcy said.  I wanted so much to sleep with Monroe, but my lust was too selfish.  I lamented not finding someone to love me, and yet I was driving the wrong way down a one-way street.  Maybe it was too late for a third chance to do right by Marcy, but I vowed to be more giving in the future, letting the ice thaw as best I could.

I never saw Marcy again, though I did speak with her on the phone once.  The occasion for the call was my engagement to Carolyn.  I met my lover in a coffee shop.  We clicked over lattes.  I opened myself up to her more than I ever did with anyone else.  When we made love, the angels smiled.  Since we could be married in this state, I proposed and she accepted.  I looked for that slip of paper with the phone number on it, and just when I thought it was lost forever, I found it.  I called Marcy to invite her to my wedding, but when she answered I thought about the Ice Queen moniker and made her the reason for the call, not me.

After the usual small talk, she said, �I had the operation.  It�s gone.�  I knew what she meant�always about body parts.

�Are you happy, Marcy?  Have you found the right person yet?�  I asked, hoping she�d been as fortunate as me.

�Not yet, Dana honey, not yet, but I bet you have.  You sound happier than I remember you being.  Who is she?�

I told her all about Carolyn.  I invited her to the wedding ceremony.  She politely declined, saying she was still recuperating from the operation, but I knew it was bullshit.  She evidently still had feelings for me, although I couldn�t see how since I�d been such a shithead with her.  What would've my future been like if I hadn�t treated her like a freak?  I love Carolyn beyond words, but I can still wonder what might have been.

Before ending the call, she said, �I knew someone could put a crack in that ice.  I�m glad you found her.�

I found myself along the way too.

 

The title came from a song I was listening to at the time, �A Crack in the Ice� by Arena, from their CD, The Visitor.  The lyrics don't have much to do with my story but it did set me to thinking.  This story is the result.  Please check out Arena on your favorite music site; Prog music at its finest!

 

Donna M.

 

© 2012

 

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