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I knew what to do, how todo it. I think I was reasonably personable. I even perused the rolecalls, although I felt no inspiration to go to an audition. It was still me. My past, my memories, my upbringing, my entireconsciousness that were still the primary lens by which I saw life.Perhaps through some sense of obligation, I felt that I should subjugatemyself to Jen and her life. I tried to defer myself to her, to let herdominate. But as she went about her life, awkwardly at best, I was there.Observing. No. Experiencing. Living. Feeling. Influencing more andmore, in spite of myself. In spite of my imagined obligation to honorher existence. I didn't fully grasp that it was still ME, a man, a former man,responsible for the direction of this life now. Physically I was Jen.Physically I was a woman. It was up to me to shape this life. Only gradually had I come to realize that. The first night after hostessing I'd come home and had a glass of merlotand some cigarettes as was often. But the party ended, I had a nice dinner, and the days passed without me giving the conversation much more than a passing wistful thought.I was in my home office working when my phone rang with a text. “I am going to the woods, you will find me passed out…” and provided me with an exact location. On the way there, every time I looked at the speedometer it would read “50” in what was of course a “35” and I would slow down. Moments later it would creep up again.I had no trouble finding her as she was right where she said she would be. God, she looked sexy sitting up against a tree. Her eyes were closed and she was at rest. The only give away was the little smile on her lips.She had on jeans, running shoes, and a denim shirt that was totally unbuttoned. Under the shirt and exposed to my view she had one of those long line bras that are popular at the moment in a blue that matched her shirt. And that bra, oh that bra fit her perfectly. It lied flat against her which made her.
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