I carefully stepped out of the house and walked to thestrip mall not far from the house, my skirt swaying back and forth withevery step, my hair wafting in the slight wind, and the smell of myperfume trailing after me. I was in heaven because I finally knew thefreedom of being the girl I want to be. By the time I got home I waspositive I was really a girl, but at age 13 there wasn't anything Icould do about it. All I could do was dress like a girl and relish theprecious few moments I had as a girl. By the time I was myself again mymom came home from work and all seemed well again.I worked at a small grocery bagging groceries, stocking shelves and soon, which gave me a modest allowance with enough money to buy my girlstuff. I was saving up for a padded pantybrief, one of the new gelfilled ones. On Friday night that week I was busy doing my homeworkwhen my mom came into the kitchen and sat across from me."Marilyn saw you walking at the local mall last night. She said thatyou were. You can imagine what I did every night. I had began to love her laughing and easy going nature. I never called her aunty – I desired her as a goddess who will take me to high pleasures. But she used to call me bhaiya – which I later realized that she didn’t mean anything by.I am the only son of my family, both of my parents are working, they come after 4 pm everyday. So. she used to come around asking for things when I was alone. I was usually in shorts and several times- she has paused on seeing my bulge. She used to stare seriously at me during these moments but I would hesitate.After some time, She began teasing me on her visits when I was alone at house. She would open her mouth and roll her tongue, slurping her saliva- “Aur bhaiya aap zindag mein karna kya chahte ho? Padhai ke siva? Kuch aur nahi chahte? jo ghurte rehte hoon- haan bhaiya?”. Then she would laugh as her calling bhaiya was slap on my face. Shy, I would look away in shame. Blood draining from my face. Still lost in.
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