Wanna fuck?

Yikes! I had a fun day at work yesterday. I was propositioned by a co-worker. Here's how it went down:

OK, so I am out of town on business with two co-workers. On our evenings off, one of the co-workers and I hit up the liquor store for some beer and something a little harder. My choice was tequila; his was Jack Daniels. We split a 12 pack of beer and finish our individual serving bottles of the hard stuff. Whilst drinking, TV in his hotel room was on. It was late at night, and it was HBO. It was soft-core porn. A show called the "Cat House" about a joint called the "Bunny Ranch."

Well, in the middle of the show, he starts asking provocative questions: "What gets you off?" "Do you like it when people bite your clit?" "Have you ever done that with a woman?" (pointing at the TV where a lesbian scene is going on). At this point I am turning red, stuttering and stammering trying to answer these inappropriate questions, obviously embarrassed and nervous.

Then, before I can finish answering one of his numerous questions, out of the blue: "Wanna fuck?" And then after I politely refuse, "I can eat your pussy real good."

First of all, the guy is gross. He has kids older than I am. He has a wife. And grandkids. I told him I wasn't interested and quickly left his room.

The next day was awkward to say the least. Breakfast went by with just the very minimum of conversation: "Did you sleep well?" "Hotel beds suck," etc.

Later on in the day (much later, like hours later) he actually apologized. He came up with the lame excuse that he was "buzzed and horny" after drinking so much and watching that porn show. Whatever.

The only "good" thing to come of the experience: I realized he doesn't know.

-Sassy

Are you a shemale?

Heh. Once upon a time I was homeless. I took advantage of my homeless status and partook of the free clinic in my town that is offered for those unfortunate souls that do not have a steady roof to sleep under.

One day I was in this clinic, waiting on my hormone prescription to be filled, when I younger black guy came up to me and asked, "are you a shemale?" I was dumbstruck. Most people I run into on the streets do not know about me. Apparently, I "pass" pretty well. However, sometimes, people Just Know™. Apparently, this guy did.

I didn't know how to answer him. Should I tell him that most transexuals think that "shemale" is a derogatory term? Should I explain to him that most transexuals would never call themselves a "shemale?" I just answered "yes" and watched his gaze of amazement.

I sat down and watched as he pointed at me whilst talking to his homies. I knew what he was saying. I watched as some of his friends shook their heads in disbelief. I'm sure that my cheeks were turning bright red at the time.

I am humbled now. I used to think I went around town, "passing," undetected as a female. No longer.

-Sassy

The quest for crack.

OK, so being part of the LGBT community, I am good friends with this lesbian couple. Let's call them Cindy and Deb (not their real names). I met Cindy at work, and then later I met her partner Deb. Cindy is a very straight-laced, formal-type lady. Very proper in all respects. Most definitely the level-headed half of the partnership. Deb, on the other hand, is quite the party-girl and the raunchier of the couple. Deb is the one that enters belching contests and calls me up when she wants to get fucked up and go out and party.

Anyways, Deb calls me up one night. We go out and get plastered, as usual. On the way home, she says she wants some crack. Yup, crack rock, crack cocaine. I am more of the straight-laced type myself -- I've never done any _hard_ drugs before. Sure, I've smoked a few bowls and a coupl'a joints; tried shrooms one night in a drunken stupor (Bob, if you're reading this, I always had a hell of a time at your parties!); hell, I've even done ecstasy (I did three pills at once and all it seemed to do was make me thirsty); but never anything more serious.

So, she wants crack. We drive around the 'hood, checking out the various characters strolling the streets after dark. She apparently has experience picking out dealers on the street. She hangs out of my window, and asks this guy if he "has any." He comes over and gets in the back seat of my car (more on this later). This guy is a typical tweaker. Black guy. Average looking, but very skinny. Face twitches. Wearing a heavy winter jacket when it's warm out.

Deb asks him if he has any. She wants "40." This guy says he needs to go to his dealer's house. So, I drive to another part of town. This dude goes up to the building and comes back. Gets back in the back seat and then they do the deal. He asks for a "bump" and Deb gives him a rock to smoke in his pipe. He lights up in the back seat and smokes, and Deb does the same thing in the front seat. Yes, I had two people smoking crack in my car. Greaaat.

So I drop the dealer off on the way back to my place. See, Deb wants to smoke it all at my place. She can't go home and smoke it because Cindy has no clue that Deb is even into crack. According to Deb, she likes to smoke it once a month or so. I personally am scared to even try it, afraid of the "instant addiction" that is so talked about in reference to crack. We go back to my place. Deb smokes all of the crack whilst I partake in the various alcoholic beverages in my fridge. Mmmmm... Home-made vanilla vodka. Yummy.

By this point, Deb is awake. Very awake. The sun is up. We've been up all night. It's 6 o'clock in the morning. Deb wants me to take her home so she can go to work. Yup, she's ready to go to work without any sleep and fucked up on alcohol and crack. Crazy, I say. But I take her home. She lies to Cindy about where we've been. According to Deb, we've been out drinking all night at a bar, then we went to my place to continue drinking after last call.

So, I told you I'd tell you more about my car later. Here's the deal: I drive a retired police cruiser. Yup, it looks just like the unmarked cars that my local PD drives, antennae and all:



The funny thing is, on a later crack run with Deb (a few months later), yet _another_ drug dealer got in the back seat of my car voluntarily! I can't believe how stupid these dealers are. They are lucky that in both of these cases that we weren't the cops and that they actually did get their money. Morons.

-Sassy

Introduction!

Just wanted to stop by and say hi! My name is Sassy Sue Shadetree (to my friends I'm just "Sassy"). If you hadn't figured it out, I am a male-to-female transsexual. My friend Candy and I started this thing to tell you, our illustrious reader, some stories from our lives. Things that may be a bit too risque for our "regular" blogs. Things that may be a bit illegal. Things that will make you laugh. Things that may incite tears. Or not.

Take it for what you will. I know what it is and can be, and you will see what it may be as well.

-Sassy