Molly pt 1
Molly was a bitch. I know, it probably sounds mean to say that pop off the fly; but it's true. She was the type of girl with infinite potential, but zero brains or ambition. I'd compare her to a high-performance engine sitting in the back of an old barn . . . could be something great; but worthless as it is. You'll have to pardon my bitterness, as it does change, but there are so many just like her in the world. I know, you can't change a person - but I find it extremely frustrating when people sit on their hands and perpetually make bad choices thinking that somehow it's just going to work out this time.
Some called her a whore, which was not true at all. Whores make money, and while Molly would jump in bed with any moron; she didn't make money off of her skills. Some would call her a slut; but that wasn't really true, either. From time to time I would consider Molly a slut. She'd go for months, even years at a time, without fucking anyone; but then she'd go through a streak of playing "hop on pop" with as many people in as short a time as humanly possible.
I'd known Molly on the fringes for years. Our paths had crossed several times, and then we'd be absent from each other for an extended period of time. My feelings for her went through various degrees, and the more time passed, the less I figured something would happen. Molly had the desire to be with a crossdresser, but never really followed up on any leads. Most of the guys she dated were morons, and she liked to present herself as just a dumb bimbo. I knew better. We'd had some in-depth conversations, and I knew she was smarter than what she led others to believe. She was what I would classify as the typical young woman who thought that everyone wanted a dumb girl who didn't endeavor into logic or thought.
After various interactions, I'd pretty well given up on getting anywhere with her. Sure, we knew each other in a distant respect; but that was about it. She knew a little about me, I knew a little about her - but that's as far as things progressed. That was until the inevitable happened.
Normally, I am the type of person who is always ignored unless somebody wants something. I run my own business, and while I'm not entirely unhappy - it doesn't make much money. Most often I end up taking jobs I hate for way below the pay grade I should just to keep from starving and freezing. I don't like to be a whiner, but often times it seems like everyone around takes advantage of me. I hate it, but at the same time; I don't have much of a choice.
Every day I get endless streams of emails, social media messages, and occasionally telephone calls from people wanting me to help them out with a particular project or job they have in mind. There are days it seems as though the whole world wants something for nothing; and really, it gets quite annoying. I don't intend any arrogance by the statement, but my time is valuable, too.
I digress, but laying groundwork is essential in telling a story; and it is best that the reader have as much background as possible in order to understand progression.
Molly had called, left no message, and I sat wondering what I should do. I knew it was her number, I couldn't help but forget it. Did she call by mistake? Did she intend to talk to me? Was this finally the moment when our worlds would collide? I didn't really care one way or the other, but still, I took more than a week to call her back. I saw her number on the message machine, but when I picked up the phone, I just couldn't call her back right away. First off, that would seem to be a signal of desperation on my part; but secondarily, I knew her birthday was coming up, and I'd just use that as an excuse to return the call.
The day of her birthday started out as usual. Cold, but sunny; normal weather for the time of year. I debated for a few hours on when to call. I knew that most likely she was going to be at work, and I figured if I timed things right, I could call when her phone was off and would be able to just leave a message and then the ball would be in her court, and I wouldn't have to worry about a thing.
Although I usually get up around 4-4:30am, I waited until around 9:40 to call. One ring, two rings, three rings, four rings . . . damn, her phone is on and it's not going to messages. . . five rings.
"Hello?"
"Hi Molly, Happy Birthday"
(somewhat groggy, but not entirely disappointed) "Uh, thanks? How are you?"
"I'm fine. I just didn't want you to think I forgot your special day. I saw you called last week, but I didn't know what it was about, so, my apologies for not getting back to you right away."
"It's completely alright. Are you doing anything today?"
"Well, not really. I have some projects I'm working on, but that can wait. Why do you ask?"
"Never mind that. Get dressed and come over here. I want to see you."
That was it. No pause for a response, just a demand; like so many others. I'd already showered and shaved for the day, so it didn't take much for me to get in a presentable state for "her highness". I'm a switch, through and through. I don't really like overpowering dominance, but on occasion I don't mind a little direction. Molly the bitch was turning into Molly the Dom, and I didn't really like that, but oh well, we'll see where it goes.
It was about 11:30 when I rang her doorbell. I felt a bit awkward in knee-high leather high heeled boots, black opaque stockings, leather garter belt, and leather open-bust corset d****d over with a long warm leather coat and topped off with my dark red wavy wig.
She opened the door wearing only a dressing gown. Not quite the portrait of perfection, but still a bit attractive.
"Get in here, it's freezing out there."
It wasn't, really, but everyone has their own interpretation of the weather.
Some called her a whore, which was not true at all. Whores make money, and while Molly would jump in bed with any moron; she didn't make money off of her skills. Some would call her a slut; but that wasn't really true, either. From time to time I would consider Molly a slut. She'd go for months, even years at a time, without fucking anyone; but then she'd go through a streak of playing "hop on pop" with as many people in as short a time as humanly possible.
I'd known Molly on the fringes for years. Our paths had crossed several times, and then we'd be absent from each other for an extended period of time. My feelings for her went through various degrees, and the more time passed, the less I figured something would happen. Molly had the desire to be with a crossdresser, but never really followed up on any leads. Most of the guys she dated were morons, and she liked to present herself as just a dumb bimbo. I knew better. We'd had some in-depth conversations, and I knew she was smarter than what she led others to believe. She was what I would classify as the typical young woman who thought that everyone wanted a dumb girl who didn't endeavor into logic or thought.
After various interactions, I'd pretty well given up on getting anywhere with her. Sure, we knew each other in a distant respect; but that was about it. She knew a little about me, I knew a little about her - but that's as far as things progressed. That was until the inevitable happened.
Normally, I am the type of person who is always ignored unless somebody wants something. I run my own business, and while I'm not entirely unhappy - it doesn't make much money. Most often I end up taking jobs I hate for way below the pay grade I should just to keep from starving and freezing. I don't like to be a whiner, but often times it seems like everyone around takes advantage of me. I hate it, but at the same time; I don't have much of a choice.
Every day I get endless streams of emails, social media messages, and occasionally telephone calls from people wanting me to help them out with a particular project or job they have in mind. There are days it seems as though the whole world wants something for nothing; and really, it gets quite annoying. I don't intend any arrogance by the statement, but my time is valuable, too.
I digress, but laying groundwork is essential in telling a story; and it is best that the reader have as much background as possible in order to understand progression.
Molly had called, left no message, and I sat wondering what I should do. I knew it was her number, I couldn't help but forget it. Did she call by mistake? Did she intend to talk to me? Was this finally the moment when our worlds would collide? I didn't really care one way or the other, but still, I took more than a week to call her back. I saw her number on the message machine, but when I picked up the phone, I just couldn't call her back right away. First off, that would seem to be a signal of desperation on my part; but secondarily, I knew her birthday was coming up, and I'd just use that as an excuse to return the call.
The day of her birthday started out as usual. Cold, but sunny; normal weather for the time of year. I debated for a few hours on when to call. I knew that most likely she was going to be at work, and I figured if I timed things right, I could call when her phone was off and would be able to just leave a message and then the ball would be in her court, and I wouldn't have to worry about a thing.
Although I usually get up around 4-4:30am, I waited until around 9:40 to call. One ring, two rings, three rings, four rings . . . damn, her phone is on and it's not going to messages. . . five rings.
"Hello?"
"Hi Molly, Happy Birthday"
(somewhat groggy, but not entirely disappointed) "Uh, thanks? How are you?"
"I'm fine. I just didn't want you to think I forgot your special day. I saw you called last week, but I didn't know what it was about, so, my apologies for not getting back to you right away."
"It's completely alright. Are you doing anything today?"
"Well, not really. I have some projects I'm working on, but that can wait. Why do you ask?"
"Never mind that. Get dressed and come over here. I want to see you."
That was it. No pause for a response, just a demand; like so many others. I'd already showered and shaved for the day, so it didn't take much for me to get in a presentable state for "her highness". I'm a switch, through and through. I don't really like overpowering dominance, but on occasion I don't mind a little direction. Molly the bitch was turning into Molly the Dom, and I didn't really like that, but oh well, we'll see where it goes.
It was about 11:30 when I rang her doorbell. I felt a bit awkward in knee-high leather high heeled boots, black opaque stockings, leather garter belt, and leather open-bust corset d****d over with a long warm leather coat and topped off with my dark red wavy wig.
She opened the door wearing only a dressing gown. Not quite the portrait of perfection, but still a bit attractive.
"Get in here, it's freezing out there."
It wasn't, really, but everyone has their own interpretation of the weather.
4 years ago
