thelesbianlifestyle.com

Of all the nights and in all the bars, why did it have to be then?

As young Los Angeles butches go I guess I can be pretty studly. I don’t go for the flashy look and I don’t go for the loose and unflattering look either. I guess you could call me classic, a sort of James Dean wannabe type. A simple black or white t-shirt and blue jeans with strong military boots and a small hand comb always at the ready. I even look just enough like a boy to pull in a few gay guys from time to time. Goddamn I love letting them down. So I guess you could call me a classic stud.

At least, that is what the lady at the bar seemed to think. I had been drinking and the blood thinner I had taken earlier that day was making the process of becoming elegantly wasted pretty damn simple. My friends had left already after dancing for a few songs and so I was left playing those stupid video games that every bar has at the ready for the drunk and alone. If some part of me was not completely occupied by alcohol or trivia it was probably dead set glued to the hot blonde bartender behind the bar, and so I was completely shocked when the lady approached.

She snuck up behind me. I have never had anyone sneak up behind me. Not once have I been startled or scared by someone behind me. But when that tall obsidian bombshell snuck up behind and slid her hand down my grey and red striped boxer briefs I was pretty damn close to surprised. I froze up right there and suddenly all my instincts kicked in. The first instinct to kick in was The Question, a question that always flashes in my head: Would she know?

But this time was different. Of course she would not know. How could she know that it was my first night back from Thailand after having my previously unwanted and unforgiving penis reconstructed into a warm and inviting cunt? How could she know at that moment as her fingers slid down over the newborn soft curvature of my lower landscape that the classically studly butch before her was… well… just a little bit different?

Then came the second instinct which I call the Freeze. I was paralyzed for mere moments and it was only after she began to remove her hand that I said “Uh, I’m on my rag, lady…” and in a way I was (I guess) since there was certainly blood and a pad down there. But then she leaned in and said “I know, but I got my red wings baby

She eventually passed on to other excitements in the crowd but I could feel her eyes on me the entire time. I could feel how hungry she was and how this older ebony predator saw me as nothing more than some wide-eyed little baby butch who puts a little too much stock in the classics. In a way it was empowering and in another way it was frightening - how easily she claimed my flesh without even consulting me, how easily she melted with just one touch… cause I will tell you right now, yeah it was non-consensual but I wanted it bad the second her fingertips moved past the elastic.

Then my friend Shannon looked at me in a drunken stupor and said “Damnit Em, you look like such a boy… nobody would ever believe you’re a woman.” To which I could only laugh and wink across the crowded room to a mighty amazon that hadn’t heard a word.

I guess you could call me a classic stud. But I wouldn’t… someday though. Someday

by Emily Quinn