little t&a

she told me later she's a machine operator

Paul ended up driving them to a Japanese restaurant about an hour later, even though they'd had Chinese takeout just a few days prior. Gene felt a bit underdressed in Paul's tee and waistband-digging jeans, for all he was trying to avoid getting recognized. Then again, Paul was only in the other blouse he'd bought and the jeans from yesterday, so maybe it didn't matter.

But it felt like it did. It kept nagging at him. Paul hadn't dressed up, but he had put on a little makeup. He'd even tried to do something with his hair. He knew exactly what this was. He knew Gene really was taking him out.

Gene thought he'd be more nervous about the whole deal than he was. Paul was still getting the door for him, and part of Gene hated himself a bit for realizing he'd miss that, too. It wasn't going to be as endearing once he was back to normal. None of Paul's little quirks would be.

Gene felt ashamed over it. He really did. Paul was the same person, with or without tits, but that didn't mean Gene was going to stay interested once they were out of the equation. Paul had said he wouldn't be. And that really hadn't even been the only time. Paul had kept hinting at it long before. I bet you'd rather me stay a girl. It was a horrible thing to even own up to fantasizing about. Even if Paul had dealt with it fairly well, at least over the last few days. He'd taken to all the superficial trappings of being a chick pretty readily, the makeup and heels and so on, but that was probably because all that was stuff he already did as a man. Beyond that, he wasn't really playing at being a girl very well. Wasn't trying to.

Could he really feel the same way about Paul once they took care of the curse? Once Paul felt ready to give it up? And it'd have to be soon; even not counting the tour, eventually, Paul's parents or Bill Aucoin or someone would call in a missing person report. Would he still want Paul then?

Gene wasn't sure. He'd lay a woman whether she was pretty or not, but he'd never fucked a guy, and never been interested in the prospect. But it kept nagging at him anyway. Trying to picture Paul back to normal was almost hard, when he was sitting there in front of him. Looking cute as hell with his hair fluffed like cotton candy and another low-cut blouse on. Looking happy. Normally, Gene would get a little disappointed, hanging around once the clothes were off a chick, even one he was dating. He never could help feeling like something had been—oh, not spoiled, exactly, but—like something had been... lived-in, maybe. Like a month into owning a car, when the clean smell of the dealership was gone. No longer new, and disappointingly his.

But watching Paul chatting amiably about nothing—no, not nothing, he was talking about maybe trying to visit Japan off-tour, sometime, get some real sightseeing in, instead of hasty bus rides—just brought back to mind the image of a couple hours ago. Those pretty lips wrapped around his cock, or, almost better yet, parted in a plaintive cry. Fuck, Paul could scream, and it was somehow almost appealing, how he kept trying not to do it but ended up moaning all the louder.

Gene didn't feel like he'd lost interest once he'd gotten Paul naked. It had just given him more to explore. Not just those sensitive breasts or the taste of his juices, either. Not everything was carnal. He hadn't realized the guy had any freckles, for one, although maybe some of them had just been buried in the carpet of his chest hair prior. Maybe he'd just never had a reason to look.

Gene's stomach growled, and he decided he needed to quit while he was ahead. Paul was starting to look at him funny, and nudging him under the table with his foot. They ordered platters of teriyaki chicken, fried rice, and sushi rolls, Gene carefully checking the ingredient list and grilling the waitress about the fish used while Paul, predictably, ignored kosher and got exactly what he wanted.