The door swung open, and Jackie scurried inside. She was too afraid to make eye contact with Mr. Moore and offered him nothing more than a cursory glance as she hurried past him. He fared no better. Mr. Moore stared stupidly at her long, black ponytail until he eventually remembered to shut the door behind her. He brought his fist to his mouth and coughed.
"Well, uh, hi Jacob—Jackie! Shoot, I'm sorry. Trevor told me about, you know, everything, but, well, it's just been so long, and old habits die hard, right?" he said, then let out a forced laugh.
Jackie was equally despondent and quick to agree so as to just put this whole awkward encounter behind her. "No, yeah, it's fine. I mean, I know it's a lot." She paused and waited, staring down at the floor.
"You just look so... different. I mean, obviously, there's the whole, you know—but you're taller and stuff. What are you, 5' 8 these days?"
"5' 7," she blurted out, "but yeah, close enough."
"Well, you've got Trevor beat by about two inches. They say girls mature faster than boys—" He cut himself off abruptly. Mr. Moore wasn't sure it was the right time for any of his humor. Instead, he just gazed at the shy teenager standing in his entryway.
Jackie could feel his eyes on her and regretted her choice of clothes. There wasn't anything scandalous about her tight-fitting denim jeans, or the long sleeve—but still tight—top with the pretty floral arrangement. It was her bra. She could feel the pink straps veering from her shoulder toward the wide opening around her neck. Even though she was proud of her medium breasts, she didn't think they were helping in the same way they did when she revealed her secret to other boys and men. This particular push-up bra just showed off way too much of her creamy skin.
After the awkward silence had passed, Jackie looked up. Mr. Moore was quick to settle his eyes anywhere other than down her top. Her voice was thoughtful and soft. "I just wanted to say thanks, like I know this is weird, but Trevor and I promised to stay in touch, but, we never did. Then the first year of High School just blew by. Then the second. And somewhere in there, you know—" Jackie motioned to her figure "—then this kind of happened."
He took her invitation and silently admired the young woman's body. Jacob had always been skinny, but Mr. Moore had never noticed his hips before, and certainly never noticed the plump little butt that had just trotted through his door. He shook his head. "No, uh, don't mention it. You can, you know, like always come over, I guess."
"Really?"
Mr. Moore took a deep breath. "Yeah, sure, why not?"
He waited for a moment then stuck out his hand. But instead of taking it, Jackie closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around him. It caught the good-looking young man by surprise and nearly knocked the wind out of him when she mashed her bust into his stomach. Jackie whispered, "Thank you! Thank you! You've always been so nice, and right now it means so much to me, I was so worried you'd, you know..."
He patted the top of her head. "There, there. You don't have to, uh, worry—hey why don't I get Trevor? I think he's been dying to see you, and I don't want to, you know, hog you all to myself, right?" There was another nervous laugh, and then he cursed at himself under his breath for sounding so juvenile. Mr. Moore quickly spun his head around and called over his shoulder.
A few moments later, his son came prancing down the stairs. The smaller boy had a wide grin on his face as he glided across the tile floor in his socks and embraced his former best friend. "Oh my God!" he said. "I didn't think you were actually going to come over, it's so late, and I..."
"Yeah, sorry about that," she said. "Honestly, I wasn't sure if I was, and then—"
"Well, you're here now! So let me have a look, oh my God, seriously! I can hardly tell!" When Jackie's only response was a timid smile, Trevor looked at his dad. "What did you say? Dad! We talked about this. Oh my God, Jackie, what did he say to you? Tell me."
Jackie raised her palms. "No, no! He—he was perfect. Really! I'm just, I don't know, so happy to be here I don't know what to say."
Trevor opened his mouth as if he were about to speak, but when Jackie's eyes welled up and her lower lip started to shake, Trevor decided it was better to remain silent.
Free from the confusing entanglement of sixteen-year-olds, Mr. Moore found his chance for escape. He told them there were still some leftovers in the fridge and they were welcome to watch TV in the living room, then bid them farewell. But before he circled into the kitchen and out of dodge, he stopped. Mr. Moore looked back and said, "Just, uh, keep your door open, Trevor?" But it sounded more like a question, like he wasn't sure of the protocol. He was certain that if a girl was staying the night there would have to be rules. But now he was more confused than ever. And when the two just glared at him, he darted into the kitchen. It even sounded like he was a sports car peeling out as his sneakers squeaked over the tile.
Trevor took her by the hand. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry, he's trying, are you sure he wasn't mean? I told him, you know, he knows everything—"
"Hey, Trevor, it's OK—no really! He's actually, I dunno, kind of sweet," Jackie said quietly.
"Alright, if you say so. Anyway, we have so much to talk about. Come on, let's go! You remember where my room is, right?" But he didn't give her time to answer. Trevor took her by the hand and whisked her up the stairs.
Mr. Moore had been waiting patiently, though. He had his ear to the wall and the moment he heard them on the move he got in position to watch them ascend the stairs. What he saw didn't disappoint him. The young transgender girl's bottom had planted itself into his brain and he felt this strong urge to see it again, even if it was only a fleeting glimpse of her small buttocks as they strained against the light blue material of her jeans. He caught himself shaking his head when his son passed between them and he noticed Trevor's butt looked very much the same.
He'd never considered his son attractive before. But now he found himself narrowing his eyes and watching Trevor's cheeks shift under his gym shorts with each step, paying special attention to where they bunched up in the crease. He was suddenly very interested in whether he was wearing any underwear underneath. There couldn't be, he reasoned to himself, not the way they clung so tightly to his body. Mr. Moore exhaled and shook his head. "Stupid! Get a fucking grip, Jesus Christ!" he muttered to himself.
The table needed clearing, and the dishes needed washing. His son was usually very helpful in this regard, but tonight he'd been so nervous he went right to his room after dinner. So Mr. Moore would have to handle it himself. Fortunately, his mind was racing so fast that it made the perfect distraction for the tedium of housework. He couldn't stop those images from flashing over and over again in his mind of his son, and of the boy he'd coached in little league only a few years earlier. He—she—was a completely different person, nothing like the rough and tumble tween that led his team to a championship. She was grown now, mature, a beautiful young woman, and he found himself wondering what was underneath her jeans. Mr. Moore haphazardly clanged some glasses together in the sink and turned on the faucet. He lost track of time.
"Hello?" a soft voice said.
The hair on the back of Mr. Moore's neck stood up. "Oh, uh, hi there. You scared me."
The young girl standing in the kitchen archway had sneaked up on him. A small, apologetic smile stretched across her thin lips. "Sorry, I... I didn't mean to. Trevor's in the shower, and I was just thirsty and you said I could have something, right? Is that OK?"
"Yeah, no, of course you can. Help yourself. Tons of stuff in the fridge." He motioned with his head behind him. Mr. Moore was afraid to turn around. His penis was dangling straight down, but it was starting to fill out. It had been bumping and thudding into the cabinets the whole time he'd been working.
Jackie's black eyes blinked, and then she gingerly made her way into the small room. She sidestepped past him, opened the fridge, and leaned in. The shape in his pants twitched. Mr. Moore could do nothing to stop from blatantly peeking, and his reward made him wish he had x-ray vision. Thin white cloth crept up and beyond the rim of her jeans. He rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hands. It wasn't the kind of plain, white panties a young girl would wear, the branding around the small elastic band made sure of it. Jackie was an adult now, she was grown and was wearing a thong.
Jackie bent her knees and reached forward, moving items out of the way. "You guys have a lot of food, does anyone else live here?" she asked.
"No, it's just us. But I'd be careful in there, some of that stuff might not be, uh, current," he joked.
Jackie didn't reply. She just stretched her arm and continued exploring, bending a little further at the waist. Her shirt rose a pinch higher up her back, and her jeans began to struggle. If she kept going he thought, the curvature of her fit little bottom may burst through her pants at any moment. Mr. Moore's eyes suddenly shot open wide.
Jackie went to one knee, then the other. She sat up tall and read the label on a bottle of orange juice before putting it back. When she leaned forward though, a subtle hint of her crack appeared.
"I see what you mean," she said. "Is anything safe in here?" Then, without warning, her long, black ponytail cut through the air as she swung her head toward him. "Mr. Moore?"
He gulped, but couldn't wipe the stupid look off his face. He'd been caught staring right down the back of her pants and mentally began preparing an apology, and more importantly an excuse. Mr. Moore turned from the sink and opened his mouth, but Jackie spoke up first.
"Mr. Moore? Are you OK? I can come back later..."
"What? No, no... Yeah, I'm fine—wait, you're not mad?"
Jackie shrugged and then turned her attention back to the fridge. She looked back to the overflowing abundance of plastic bottles and Tupperware. "I'm just thirsty. Do you have some soda or something?"
Relieved, he took a step. Then, he took another and stopped. Mr. Moore peered down and adjusted his slacks. It didn't do any good though. His erection persisted despite his embarrassment and despite his attempts to calm himself. And it only continued to get worse. Another step brought him right up behind her. He was sure to be loud and obvious so as not to startle her. But Jackie just knelt there, staring into the abyss. He cleared his throat.
"I know they're in there somewhere, may I?"
She shrugged but otherwise didn't move out of his way. He worked himself in behind her so close he could smell the fruity scent of the shampoo in her hair. Carefully, Mr. Moore got down onto one knee and reached over the stubborn girl's shoulder.
He coughed out a fake laugh. "Jesus, you're right, this is kind of embarrassing. Don't tell your parents—or the food police," he joked.
Jackie's thin, black hair tickled his nose when she laughed. She covered her mouth. "If I die of thirst, they'll be upset—I think they will be anyway."
Just then his groping hand felt something behind a bushel of celery. "Ah-hah! Here you go! Oh..."
Again, Jackie laughed.
"Well it felt like a soda can," he explained, then quickly stuffed the olives back into the void.
His chest was hovering just above her shoulders as he reached forward and tried again, then very gently it bumped into her. He rummaged around even faster now to disguise the fact that their bodies had come together as if she hadn't noticed, as if she weren't paying attention at all. But he was paying attention. Out of the corner of his eye, he could make out her top and the poorly hidden bra underneath. Her nipples poked forward through both of them. They just stabbed through the cushion of her bra and the fabric of her top like they weren't even there. His eyes felt dry like he hadn't blinked in ages, but he just couldn't turn away from all that exposed, white flesh creeping out of her shirt.
