“And,” I said with a laugh, “he’s really sexy.”
Demir chuckled. “That’s for damn sure. If we’re going to have another date with him, though, I do want to ask you some things…”
“Like what?”
Demir rubbed the back of his neck. “Are there things I need to know, if I’m going to hook up with a trans guy?”
I nodded quickly, glad to have some experience on this front. “I can tell you what I know, but I think the number one rule is that everyone is different.”
“We just kind of figure it out, then?”
“We talk about it,” I clarified. “Same as we’d talk about sex with anyone else.”
Demir nodded. I knew there was much more to it than that, and I’d been spending some time reading articles online and educating myself about trans topics. Over the years of owning the club, we’d met many trans people, of course, but there was definitely some daylight between sharing a drink with someone at the bar and getting intimate in bed.
“He’s been on testosterone,” I clarified. “When a guy is on testosterone, the part of his body that people might have called a clitoris grows much bigger. It’s just like any other cock, with a crown and erections and the whole thing. All people have the same basic tissue, actually, but when our bodies produce testosterone or estrogen in different amounts, those parts grow and develop differently, too.”
“I looked around online,” Demir acknowledged.
I smiled. “Does that mean you’re interested, too?” I asked. “Do you want to try to go forward with this for sure?”
“I do,” Demir agreed. “But I think your concerns are valid. We’ll need to have some conversations with Grayson and make sure we’re clear about what we’re available for.”
A thrill shot through me as the possibility of spending a little more time with Grayson opened up. I grabbed Demir’s hand, then pulled it to my chest. He always got thisoh goshlook on his face when I did that, and it killed me a little. “Just promise me you’ll find more time in your schedule,” I said. “Promise me I’ll still get just as much time with my man as ever.”
Demir laughed, then pulled our hands to his lips for a kiss. “I promise,” he said.
“Beautiful,” I answered. “Now time to get dressed, Demir. You can’t head to O’Sullivan’s in your boxers, much as everyone would love to see it.”
* * *
Even though I hid from the crowd at The Forty-Eight these days, there was nothing quite like spending time with actual, close friends. Even with just a plain T-shirt and some eyeshadow on, I still felt fabulous, and they responded to my silly jokes and dramatic stories with genuine love.
It’s not something most people want to hear me complaining about, but the very minor celebrity I experienced at the bar was exhausting. I didn’t like to dress up because I wanted attention; I just liked to express myself honestly. And when I was with friends, the expectation to perform and entertain disappeared, and I was able to just enjoy my own company.
Maybe that was one reason I appreciated Grayson so much, I realized. He grinned at me and laughed at my jokes, but he never treated me like I was entertainment. And he always seemed interested in my ideas and emotions, instead of just my fashion and dancing.
Sasha and Alex caught up on their recent dates at one end of the table, and Raul and Paolo sat at the other, arms draped over each other’s shoulders like the happy husbands they were. Sasha was a DJ who had been around since we opened the club, although we only met Raul and Paolo about five years ago, when all four of us had spent an entire day stranded at the airport, a bunch of strangers waiting for a flight that never came.
Across from me, Demir smiled and turned back and forth between the conversations. Paolo was trying to convince Raul to get another puppy, and Demir was coming down firmly on the pro-puppy front. But then Alex would start waving his hands and going off on Sasha’s latest boyfriend, and Demir would get dragged back into their conversation, laughing along. When Alex pulled me into a debate about 90s techno with Sasha, however, I pretty much lost track of time.
Paolo cleared his throat, and I turned back to his side of the table. “Demir,” he said. “I promise you, you won’t find a better deal in town. The down payment is large, but you’ll be securing your architect and your contractor, and you know that the quality will be worth it.”
I turned to better face them, my attention piqued.
“I know,” Demir agreed. “I’m always just reluctant when it comes to spending a lot of money at once.”
“What’s this?” I asked, tilting my head. “A down payment?”
“It’s fifty grand,” Paolo said, overenunciating the number for effect. “But you’re going to be spending a lot more than that when the project is finished.”
My eyes bugged out of my head a little, and I shot Demir a sharp glance. “Fifty grand? Have you already been talking to architects?”
Demir gave me a strained smile. “I can fill you in later.”
His eyes were telling me to drop it, that it’s something we should discuss at home, but the number sent me reeling. We’d always discussed financial decisions as a pair before and hadn’t even signed off totally on going forward with the new dance hall. But apparently Demir had been making some moves on his own, and enough that Paolo was casually bringing it up at the bar.
“Maybe we should give that fifty grand to someone who really needs it instead,” I said, my voice much icier than I intended.
