"Well, it was always hard, of course, not just now, y'know?"

She uncrossed her legs and stared into my eyes. As she glanced past me, I saw the blue of her eyes. The eyes, pale blue like a bright day with high clouds, were playful but a little shy. It was a little hard to believe she had been born a man.

"So what made you want to get the change?"

She told me about her life up until college, and how she had always wanted to be a woman but hadn't realized it until seeing a special on TV. A transsexual had been hit in a car crash, and the paramedics had refused to treat "it" because of fear of AIDS. She told me how the thought struck her: "I want to be just like that woman!"

I was kind of surprised, then, when she turned the tables.

"So what's your problem? Why are you like that?"

It was even harder for me to answer than for her. I rambled on for what felt like five minutes, telling her how I had always been fascinated by t-girls, ever since my service in the Army in the Philippines.

"What are, um, Philippines – er, Filipinos, is that it? – like?" she asked me, perching her chin on her hands.

"Well, they're really nice, and fun, but they're kinda dirty," I told her.

"Do they have transsexuals there?"

"Sure! I saw dozens of 'em. I used to go to a bar where it was nothing but beautiful t-girls everywhere." I thought about the tits on that one, Sabrina I think her name was, but I felt too embarrassed to talk about it. Definitely not her fine, plump-but-firm ass.

"Were they beautiful?"

"My god, yes," I said honestly. "Those t-girls are hot, I mean hot. And they really know how to dress, not like women here."

"So why didn't you marry one?"

I was again embarrassed. Shit, that was a debacle. A little tiny chapel on some unnamed alley in Manila, giving her a ring made of 10K gold I bought by pawning my Walkman, trodding on that turd with my shiny new shoes… And then the divorce after getting back from Guam. I almost cried thinking about that Filipino t-girl, the girl of my dreams. And again, I was too embarrassed to talk about it.

"I never found the right one, I guess. Filipinos just want your money, anyway," I added.

"Wow, that sucks," she said sincerely. "I wish I could go there sometime, though. But they're all more beautiful than me, huh?" I didn't know if she wanted an honest answer or not.

"Your eyes are certainly beautiful," I said honestly. "And you've got great legs," I added.

"Do you think I should get my tits re-done?" She held them in her hands, sizing them up.

"No, they're a really nice size." She smiled, but there was an uncomfortable silence.

After a few seconds, she asked again: "You still didn't tell me what got you started on girls like me, though." I thought for a few seconds.

"I really don't know. Maybe it's like a disease or something. Somebody introduced me to it, and I couldn't get off it. My drinking buddies and I just wanted to check it out, you know? You can't get that kind of thing here. So we went to the bar, and they were just so beautiful! All of 'em wearing high heels. You know the kind, right? They were fashionable about ten years ago, with those little extra flaps down here." I drew my hand across my ankle to show her what I meant.

"Yeah, I know the kind," she said. Her chin was back on her hands.

"Well, they were just so beautiful… I couldn't help myself. My buddies thought I was crazy, but once you start, you know?" She nodded, pushing her hands down with her chin. Her nails flashed in the light.

"It was a great experience, and I'm glad I tried it," I said. "I really love t-girls. You all know how to dress, and how to treat a man like a man, you know? Not like these liberated –" I hesitated as the word 'bitch' came into mind, but instead I continued: "women who tell men what to do all the time and think they know what's best, you know?"

She nodded again. Her eyes flashed in the light, like the headlights of a car that suddenly turns into oncoming traffic.

"And makeup, too," I added, lamely.

"What about penises?"

I think I must have coughed or something, because she sat upright. Her hands dropped to her sides.

"What d'you mean?"

"Do you like 'em?"

"Well, I don't know… I guess… I mean, what…"

"Have you ever given a blowjob?"

I thought it was kind of a personal question. People never really talk about that kind of thing, you know? I mean, it's not mentioned in polite conversation, right?

"Well, I guess so… What do you mean by 'blowjob'?"

"C'mon, you know, when her penis goes into your mouth and you, y'know, suck it."

"Um, well, yeah, I guess so…"

"Do you like it?"

This was getting really weird. Nobody had ever asked me that question. I was starting to get a little angry, actually. Who did she think she was?

"C'mon, honey, it's just a question. Don't be angry," she said, a little pleadingly. Was I that easy to read?

I kind of pouted for a few seconds, I think.

"Come on, babe, let's just go to bed, okay?"

She nodded again, and stood up. She walked upstairs, and I followed her.

"I gotta brush my teeth," she said. "I've had this nasty taste in my mouth all day. Do you want me to turn the heater on?"

"Nah," I said. "I'm ready to go straight to bed. Are you going to wear that red thing tonight? I love it when you wear that red thing."

"Yef," she mumbled around the toothbrush and foam. "Be veah in a fecon," she added.

I took off my shirt and pants. Nothing but underwear. I really wanted to have sex with her tonight.

As I kicked my feet up into bed, though, I couldn't stop thinking about those Filipino t-girls. All those hot tits. And I couldn't stop thinking about penises.