Saturday morning dawned bright and sunny. I rolled over and pulled the covers over my head, not wanting to begin the seemingly endless journey back just yet. I could wait till afternoon to start my climb out of the bottomless sexual barrel I'd allowed myself to plummet into.

When I awoke the second time and peeked out from under my soft bedding, the sun was still shining, and my alarm clock read 12:15 PM. "Okay, Genevieve," I thought, "Time to get up and do some serious thinking."

I started with a cup of hot tea and a bowl of Rice Krispies.

Since it was such a lovely afternoon, I decided to get dressed and take a walk at Hillcrest Park. I put on a pair of jeans and a cute little pink tank top. Without a bra, my nipples showed clearly through the top, so I added a white hoody to cover my breasts. I pulled my hair back into a long ponytail and threaded my long tresses through the opening of a ball cap. My old, comfortable jogging sneakers finished off my outfit.

Slipping my cell in the hip pocket of my jeans, I grabbed my keys and headed out for Hillcrest Park at about 1:30 PM. It was a short ten-minute drive to the entrance of the park. The lot was rather full, with various minivans and SUV's. I parked away from the crowded part of the lot and stepped out into the bright sunshine of a beautiful fall Saturday afternoon.

Hillcrest Park is known for its kiddie playground, built with donations from local homeowners. That part of the park was overflowing with hundreds of toddlers and their parents happily spending the afternoon enjoying the sunshine and the assorted playground swings, slides, and jungle gyms.

The other part of Hillcrest Park is a walking path that winds along Northkill Creek. The state Fish and Game Commission stocks the creek with rainbow trout early in the spring, but by this time of year, most of the trout had been caught and filleted by local fishermen. I headed for the walking path and planned on finding a sun-drenched bench to sit and contemplate where my life was headed.

As I walked along the path, mostly young couples walking arm in arm passed me. They all looked so happy, smiling at one another, laughing, and just enjoying being together on such a beautiful afternoon. None of the males paid much attention to me, as I avoided eye contact with every one of them. I probably walked three-quarters of a mile along the path, and even the other walkers started thinning out when I came to a bend in the creek. Right at the apex of the bend, there was a bench between the creek and the walking path that faced away from the path and overlooked the smooth-flowing water of Northkill Creek. The bench was bathed in bright sunlight, as was the water's surface.

I thought to myself, this is a perfect spot to sit and think long and hard about my future. I settled onto the bench and let the warm sunrays shine on my face. The sounds of birds chirping in the trees above me and the water cascading over rocks in the stream added to the serenity of the spot. I've always loved getting out into nature for its calming effect on my senses. I sat there for the longest time, just enjoying the calmness of my surroundings.

Before considering my future, I needed to look at the recent past. Where did my transformation get off track? When I decided to proceed with my transformation, I was most interested in changing my physical appearance. I wanted to make myself look more appealing to men. I wanted them to see me as an attractive woman who was confident rather than the introverted, shy professor most had seen me as before.

What I hadn't planned was the transformation of my subconscious mind into the lustful sex, craving, wanton woman I'd become. Thinking back, I suspect that subconscious transformation began to manifest itself when I sat down in that off-Broadway theater and watched the performance of Taboos. That was when my transformation deviated from the path I'd intended, and every sexual encounter, from the first when I jerked off a total stranger in the theater to the cum bath I allowed myself to be subjected to at Jim's apartment, moved me further and further from where I truly wanted my transformation to lead.

As I sat there basking in the warm sun rays, tears of shame began pouring from my eyes. I knew where I was headed but had no idea how to find my way back to where I wanted to be. I cried for the longest time that Saturday afternoon, scared to death that I wouldn't be able to change. Scared to death that the men I'd surrendered my body to would want me to give myself up to their sexual desires again and again. My mind was racing with fearful thoughts, and I didn't hear the approaching footsteps.

"Are you okay?" A soft voice asked.

Startled by the sound of another person's voice, I quickly tried to wipe away the tears from my cheeks.

"Yes, I'm fine," I said without turning toward that soft voice.

"You could fool me,” the voice replied.

I turned slightly to look at my questioner. "Really, I'm fine," I said.

The man standing at the end of my bench smiled and said, "Okay, but I'd hate to see how red your eyes get when you're having a bad day."

"I didn't say I was having a good day," I replied. "I only said I'm fine."

"Well, would you mind if I set my tackle box down here on the end of the bench?" he asked.

I hadn't noticed that he was holding a fishing rod and a small box when I turned to look at him.

"That's fine with me," I said.

"Thanks; this bend in the stream is the sweetest trout spot in the whole park,” he offered as he placed his fishing box on the edge of the bench.

"I wouldn't know. I've never tried fishing,” I said.

"Well, you should; it's a very calming activity,” he replied.

He turned and slowly made his way down the stream bank to the edge of the water.

I almost thanked him for showing up. His presence at least caused me to stop crying. I'd unknowingly intruded on his favorite fishing spot. I considered leaving, but since he didn't seem to want to try and continue any conversation with me, I figured we could share the spot for a little while.

He fiddled with the tiny silver lure attached to the end of his line, and then, with a flip of his wrist, the lure was flying upstream. I watched as it flew through the sunshine. Its silver finish sparkled and reflected the sun's rays as it floated toward the water's surface.

It made a tiny splash as it entered the water and sank out of view. I looked at him as he concentrated on what he was doing. He flicked the rod once, then turned the crank a time or two. He stood motionless other than the flick of the rod and the slow crank of the handle, watching the water intensely.

Then, in an instant, he jerked hard on the rod and raised the tip in the air.

"Yes,” he said as the string extending from the end of his fishing rod went taut.

"Got one?" I asked almost instinctively.

He didn't answer. He didn't have to; the water near where he had thrown his lure exploded, answering my question. Droplets of water flew in every direction as a beautifully colored fish jumped above the surface, flipping its tail one way while its head went the other.

The end of his rod bent toward the spot where the fish disappeared again below the surface. He began turning the crank slowly and moving his rod from side to side. Only a second or two passed before the fish jumped out of the water again. Its multi-colored body shimmering in the bright sunlight.

"Nice rainbow!" he exclaimed. Very slowly, he brought the fish closer to where he was standing. When it was within his reach, he carefully crouched and moved his fishing rod above and behind his shoulder. The fish slid into his free hand, and he lifted it from the water.

"Sweet!" he said excitedly. As he stood up, he tucked the butt end of his rod under his arm and brought his other hand to cradle the fish gently in his hands.

"What a beautiful fish," I said.

His fingers moved to the mouth, and he gently removed the hook, letting the lure swing away from him. Turning toward me, he held the fish out so I could get a good look at it.

"Is that a Rainbow Trout?" I asked.

"Sure is, and a very nice one at that,” he replied.

The trout's body looked like a rainbow, with separate lines of color running along the length from its head to its tail.

"I can see why they're called Rainbow Trout. It's so beautiful, what a shame it has to die,” I said.

"She's not going to die,” he replied. As he slid one hand to the trout's tail, he again crouched down and began moving the fish back and forth just under the surface of the water. Once he'd done that three or four times, he let go of its tail and lowered his other hand deeper into the stream's waters. The trout lingered for a moment and then slowly began swimming off toward the middle of the stream.

"See, she's just fine,” he offered as we both watched the trout disappear into the deeper part of the stream near the middle.

Standing up again, the fisherman said, "Didn't I tell you this was the best spot around?" His broad smile reinforced the statement he'd made.

"Yes, you did, and I can see why now," I replied, smiling back at him.

As he adjusted his lure again, he turned his head toward me and said, "You know it's none of my business, but your smile sure is more pleasant than all those tears."

As quickly as he said that, he returned to the stream and his fishing lure flying upstream again.

I didn't respond to his statement, but it was nice that he would notice my smile. Over the next hour or so, I watched as he caught another three Rainbow trout. Each one was as brilliantly colored as the first, and each one was gently returned to the waters of Northkill Creek. While I watched him fishing, I began to think about how I'd turn myself around. I quickly realized that all the men I'd fucked since my transformation were only following my lead. I'd come across to them as an easy fuck. I'd given them signals that it was ok to use my body for their sexual release. If I had just changed those signals, not flaunt my sexuality to them, they very well may not have seen me as a quick, easy lay.

Could it really be that easy? Could it be that all I needed to do was come across as a reserved, sophisticated woman instead of a lustful sex-craving slut? There is no better time than the present to find out.

As the fisherman made his way up from the edge of the steam, I let myself make eye contact with him. Smiling, I said, "You're pretty good at fishing."

He grinned and said, "Just lucky today. Sometimes, they're not biting, and I only practice my casting skills."

"Do you fish here often?" I asked.

"As often as I can,” he replied. "But I usually don't have an audience."

"I'm sorry. Did I make you feel uncomfortable?" I questioned him.

"Oh no!" he answered. "I just never had such a pretty woman sit and watch me as I fish."

"Oh sure, when you got here, I was crying my eyes out. I must have been a sight,” I said.

He replied, "As I said before, your smile is certainly more pleasant than all those tears, but I'm sure you had a good reason to be shedding them. But that's none of my business."

He leaned down close to my face and smiled. "Yep, I was right,” he said.

"Right about what?" I asked.

"Emeralds always look more beautiful when framed in white rather than red,” he replied.

For a moment, I didn't quite understand what he meant. But it finally dawned on me that, in his own way, he was complimenting my green eyes. I thought easy now, Gen, remember you want to give the right signals. Sophisticated, not slutty.

"You're very kind. Thank you for noticing,” I said.

"You're welcome,” he replied. "Are you staying?" he added as he picked up his fishing box.

"It is getting a little cool, and this bench isn't all that comfortable. Do you mind if I walk with you?" I asked.

"I'd like that,” he answered.

As we walked back along the winding path beside Northkill Creek, he pointed out a few other spots where he liked fishing and even told me a fish story or two about the big one that got away.

I let him carry the conversation, nodding and smiling when he made an interesting comment.

"You're very quiet,” he finally said, trying to draw me out a little.

"I'm just enjoying listening to you speak. You're not from New England originally, are you?" I asked.

He laughed aloud. "You got me; my Jersey accent is showing again."

"You're from New Jersey?" I asked.

"Hoboken born and raised,” he offered. "I moved here three years ago to get a better job."

"Hoboken isn't that right across..." I began to say.

"Yep, right across the Hudson from the Big Apple,” he finished.

"Oh, my God!" I exclaimed. "I love New York so much."

"Never been there,” he said, chuckling after he said it.

I felt comfortable opening up to him and offered, "If I weren't tenured at Regis, I'd move to New York in a heartbeat."

"So you work at the college?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm in the English Lit department," I said.

"Wow, a professor. Great looking and smart, too,” he replied.

As we approached the parking lot, I wondered if he'd tell me his name and ask if he could call me sometime.

"Thanks for the pleasant conversation. I hope I didn't bore you this afternoon watching me fish,” he said.

"Not at all; I enjoyed both," I replied

"My car is over that way,” he said.

"I'm right here,” I replied, pointing to my Volvo parked a few spaces from where we were standing.

"Well, nice talking to you,” he said, hesitating before turning and walking toward his car.

I thought of stopping and offering to join him for drinks or coffee but decided I needed more time before getting involved with another man.

"Nice talking with you, too," I said, turning toward my car and slipping the key into the door lock.

As I drove toward the exit, he was finishing putting his fishing rod and box in the trunk of a small blue sedan. I wondered if it was a family car. I hadn't noticed a wedding ring on his finger. Just as I passed, he turned and waved goodbye to me. I smiled widely at him and waved back.

While driving back to my apartment, I tried to remember all I could about him. He was quite handsome with dark wavy hair and hazel eyes. I'd guess he was three or four inches taller than me. Since he wore a sweatshirt and jacket, I couldn't tell how muscular his body was, but he appeared to be in pretty good shape. The most important thing about the entire afternoon was that other than a few compliments offered in passing, he hadn't come on to me at all.

I was thankful for that, too. In my present state, the last thing I wanted was another strange man coming on to me. Giving me some line of bull in hopes that he'd be able to fuck me. I wondered if I'd ever run into him again and, if so, where that might lead. He seemed like a nice enough guy. Time and a few visits to the park to sit on the bench by his fishing spot might be interesting.

As I settled in back at my place for what I was planning on being a quiet Saturday evening alone, my cell rang.

I picked it up and looked at the caller ID. I didn't recognize the number but decided to answer it anyway.

"Hello," I said.

"Hi, Gen, it's Bill Franklin."

"Hi Bill, how have you been?" I asked.

"I'm good, Gen. I haven't seen you around the English Department lately. Have you been hiding?" Bill asked.

"Not intentionally, Bill," I replied.

"Good, I was afraid you were avoiding me," he said.

I hesitated before I answered. "So, what made you decide to call me this evening?"

"Well, my wife is out of town this weekend, and I was thinking we could get together,” he said.

"Oh really, and what did you have in mind," I said before considering my reply.

"I thought maybe I'd stop by the wine and spirits shop and pick us up a nice bottle of wine,” he replied. "Then I could come by, and we could spend a quiet evening at your place with no time restraints, Gen," Bill added.

"That might be nice, but what about other restraints," I said again, not thinking of what I was saying.

"We could explore that if you like, Gen,” he said.

I had enjoyed the night Bill and I spent together. Our lovemaking was beautiful and very satisfying. Perhaps a second date might prove to be even better. At least I have some company instead of sitting at home and thinking of my addiction. Besides, I was feeling kind of horny, so I agreed to have him come by.

"I'd like to see you tonight, Bill," I said.

"That's great, Gen. I can be there around eight-thirty. Okay?" he asked.

"That's good for me,” I replied.

"Great, I'll see you then," Bill said.

As I hung up the phone, I asked myself what the hell I was doing. I surmised that my subconscious mind still wanted control of my actions, and without thinking, I'd invited Bill to my place for what I already knew would happen. But the idea of one-on-one sex with a man I knew would be gentle and caring was a good step toward where I wanted to be.

I recall that first rainy night when we made love. His tender caresses and soft kisses excited me so much. The way he looked deep into my eyes that first night, as I did a slow, seductive strip tease for him, the way he took the time to seduce me and bring my body to a high state of arousal was so sensual, and the thought of that happening again excited me.