"You married?" she asked."No, divorced. Just a few months ago." You look like it pains you to say that." It's not easy. Hasn't been since it happened. I guess I'll get over it. Everybody seems to in time." I reckon," she said."Are you married," I asked her, since I couldn't see whether she had a ring on, because of her riding gloves."Maybe," she said.For a moment, we seemed to run out of things to say, and we stood there leaning against the truck looking out over the vast land before us. We looked at each other, each trying to figure out what to say next, wondering what each was thinking. But her eyes caught mine and held them, and there was something sensual in hers, a hunger that I know had to show in mine also.For a reason, I'll never be able to fathom or understand, we turned and moved slowly towards each other, closing the gap of a couple feet between us. I dropped my hat to the ground. Her eyes held mine. Her mouth opened slightly and seemed to quiver momentarily. I let my arm. I guess I need to backtrack a long way to explain. Mommy was abused by her boyfriend, my father, she was beaten and she was raped. When she became pregnant with me he abandoned her, Aunt Kitty had taken her in and taken her as her life partner, strangely, Aunt Kitty is the femme yet she’s the one that works outside the home and Mommy handles the household chores. I’ve never known any other parents. I was born after Mommy and Aunt Kitty had met.Mommy was only nineteen when they met; they’ve shared the past twenty-five years together. They’ve shared one other thing, too, they’re both misandrists, men haters, and I was a boy. That was no problem when I was an infant and young lad. They simply treated my like a daughter. I was dressed in ribbons and bows and my toys were dolls.When I began school they did buy me boy’s clothing but, except on days when I had gym class I wore girls panties under my jeans and when I got home they changed my clothing.They both played with me, rubbing my.
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