We sat down outside the mall Starbucks sipping on our drinks, turns out Trisha, and now me, are vegan. It was hard sitting at that table; one reason being I didn't like the taste of oat milk that much and it was a bit hard for me to stomach. The other reason was that Trisha was leaning over the table to take sips, blatantly exposing some cleavage. My new pecker was standing at full attention just wanting a piece of the action.
"So Emile, you ever gone on a date with a girl before?" I choked a bit on my drink. "I can tell," she laughed. My face was burning.
"I've had plenty of experience with gals." She slid her chair closer to the table. "Except you seem a bit different from the other girls, aren't you?" She had a way of controlling the conversation, it turned me on even more than I already was. She slid her foot up my leg. "Now tell me, you're a bottom aren't you?" I nodded. I knew I was as red as a tomato. All that confidence I went into the mall with had withered away in the best way possible. I wanted to know what she was like in bed. Moreso, I wanted to have her dominate me.
"So, uh-" I giggled "So, you really like to get down to brass tacks don't ya?"
"I said it before. You knew what you were doing wearing that cute thing into a mall. I like a girl who she is and knows how to tell the world she is who she is." I was just about to take a sip of my drink when my throat felt really dry. I started coughing up a storm, wheezing for air. Trisha got up and pat me on the back.
"You okay?"
"Yeah," I coughed a bit more. "I- uh.. uhh." I stopped mid sentence. My voice no longer had its masculine tinge. It sounded small. Smaller than my voice when I was female. I could've been a voice actor for a child.
"Just went down the wrong pipe." I tried my best to sound as masculine as I was, but it sounded forced. Luckily, I don't think Trisha noticed my change in pitch and timbre.
"I wouldn't want our first date to be ruined with you dying or something," she laughed. I couldn't help but let out a coy giggle. What happened to that masculine energy? The mature, almost raspy punk-singer voice? I was giggling like a school girl here! But...
"I like your laugh," Trisha said. She put her hand over mine on the table. "I like girls like you. You kinda bumble around a bit, sure, but you always get back up again and laugh it off. Not to mention, you're really cute. Not just your face, but that sweater hugs you in all the right places."
I was hot all around my face, neck, and chest. No woman had ever told me that before. She seemed like she knew everything about me already. I didn't even know this new self for more than a few hours and she had shown me so much about Emile. She knew everything about me except my sweater. I purposefully chose this thing to be loose fitting to draw into question whether I had boobs or not. I couldn't possibly be hugging me anywhere.
"You're -hic- you're so kind. I've had people point out the -hic- nice things about my body before. But you... you point out other -hic- things like they're written across my face or something." This time I made her blush.
"Hey, Emile."
"Yeah?"
"I know it's a bit sudden, but do you want to come back to my place? Watch a movie or something?"
"Yes!! Yes!" I cleared my throat. "I mean, yes. I'd like that -hic- very much." She smiled and stood up. Holding her hand out to me.