Innocence

I was a lesbian. This was perceived as strange by a lot of people, like transsexual women couldn't be lesbians. But I was, and I couldn't complain from the amount of attention I got from women. When I had gone to dyke bars a lot (something I didn't do a lot anymore, approaching my thirties - not that I felt old, but my career required I didn't go out every night at the moment) the reactions to my status hadn't always been positive because they weren't too fond of my penis. It had bothered me at first, setting me back from the initial confidence I had gotten from my new boobs and the effect of the hormones, but I had learned to find the right women. Mostly open minded bisexual women, and some lesbians, and when they didn't hate it, they usually loved it. Sometimes I still got rejected, but it was quite exciting to go home with someone and see how they'd react when I took off my clothes, rather than telling them in advance.

The girl was staring at me again, I could feel it. I glanced up at her and saw I had been right. She'd done it now. I was going to go up to her and talk to her. When I started to walk in her direction, I saw her looking at me slightly fearful, probably scared I was going to yell at her for staring at me or something. "Hello," I said in the kindest voice I could manage, as soon as I was standing next to her.

She looked up nervously. "Hey." She tried to act casual, as though she hadn't been looking at me. I wasn't going to let her get away with that. I probably wasn't going to get myself laid by doing this because the girl looked so utterly virginal and straight, but a girl could dream. It was almost embarrassing how attracted I was to her innocence. I was used to experienced, almost slutty women in their twenties. This was definitely something different.

"Would you like to go for some coffee?" I asked her, crossing my fingers in my pocket. Her eyes widened slightly at my blunt request, after not having spoken more than two words to each other.