Laura stood up after draining her mocha to its chocolate lees. The Japanese girl clicked on the next episode of her anime, while she gave her another polite nod connoting goodbye, tossing her silken black ponytail hither and thither. Laura looked around for the trashcan and spotted it next to the door of the Starbucks.
The Indian business boy gulped as Laura’s eyes met his, and then looked away. She got a distinct high school vibe from him. She smiled and tossed her empty mocha cup in the trash. A tall gentleman in his seventies with silver hair, thumbtack thick glasses and a warm smile held the door open for her, as she exited while he entered. She thanked him and went into the parking lot of the Starbucks. She had a plan now. The caffeine had stimulated her little gray cells, and she knew that she had a whole list of things to do just then. She would find out shortly that her plans would all go to hell, but she didn’t know that then.
First, she would search for someone to satisfy the throbbing itch between her legs. Agreed, she felt she should find a decent man. However she was virtually immortal now, as long as she stuck to her end of the bargain. Love was important, but what is a life without a healthy helping of mindless lust? Love is the main course, while mindless lust is the dessert.
Second, she had to create a new identity. She couldn’t use the name Laura Lioness anymore. Perhaps it would be safe to change her name entirely. She didn’t have contenders for her name. Alternately, she was used to responding to Laura, so perhaps changing her last name was enough. When she had post or paperwork, she could easily recall her new last name, and when someone called her Laura, she could respond naturally, without having to get used to one of those newfangled pretty young thing names like Piper or Dallas.
What the fuck sort of name is Piper for a young lady anyway, she thought to herself, as she walked along a walkway that ran parallel to the Hudson river. Did young ladies play pipes a lot more these days? And Dallas - please! Don’t fuck with me, that’s a city not a girl!
Third, she had to solve for herself the mystery of the sisterhood, and the miracle of what was happening to her. Of course she wanted to solve it only if she could do it without giving up her newfound youth. This so called sisterhood was very, very mysterious, and left many questions unanswered. For instance, she wondered whether Madame Juliette had been truthful about the magic unguent’s origin. It was supposedly concocted from herbs from so many different remote regions on the planet, but something about the formidable madame’s words bothered Laura. She also wondered what the purpose of the sexual massage Julianna had given her was? Was that what had wrought the change in her instead of the so called unguent? Come to think of it, what was the purpose of their chanting French swear words while she was undergoing her massage? And why was she shown an image of Madame Juliette that appeared to be from the eighteenth century or earlier, and why was she asked not to think about it? It was all extremely odd.
She was lost in thought and started, as a young man with dark brown hair and a green Gap teeshirt came towards her on skates. His tee said ‘GAP’ in white letters. He flashed his pearly whites in her direction as he zipped past her, and she realized the enormous dollop of lust in his eyes. She was used to it by now, and knew not to worry about it, or to feel disgust at it. It was perfectly natural for men to view her with lust. She hadn’t paid attention, but she must have received looks of lust from women too. New Jersey’s lesbian and bisexual population isn’t exactly zero. Besides, a straight woman can find another woman attractive. Nothing wrong in a little crush on a member of your own sex.
The butterflies that loved her hair or their kinfolk returned to greet her, and she saw seagulls circling overhead. A ferry was heading out towards the big apple in the distance and the circle of seagulls were disturbed by its rude horn and scattered and flew away to wherever seagulls vanish when they panic. A warm breeze blew from the Hudson and unsettled Laura’s dark, shiny hair. She looked out again, and wondered what she would do with the rest of her eternal life.
She wondered about the grander picture that Madame Juliette was talking about, and what that long lip to lip kiss had been about. Oddly enough she had been intensely turned on by it, but she had suppressed the emotion when it happened. In all her fifty seven years, she had been very, very heterosexual. So being turned on by the kiss of a lady was anathema in some way.
On a lark, she decided to take the ferry to the city. Whatever sensations she had been experiencing as a hot, voluptuous woman this side of the Hudson would be amplified many times the other side. It was a simple stimulus response thing. She was entirely sure that wouldn’t be a good thing, but she started walking in the direction of the ferry terminal nonetheless.
She purchased a ticket and a bottle of AquaFina in the terminal, and awaited the next ride, due in ten minutes. It was an interesting wait, with a little girl with sparkling eyes and blonde pigtails playing hide and seek with her. Laura was grateful for the change of pace and the warmth provided by the small comfort. When the ferry came and the scramble for the dock started in typical Tristate area fashion, the little girl vanished as her rail thin mother dragged her along.
Laura took her time. Externally she was a hot young thing, but internally she was still fifty seven. That meant that in spite of her cantankerous nature, and everything else that had soured in her previous life, she still had a lot of hindsight that she meant to use now. She tried paying attention to everything around her as she walked to the boarding dock. The wisdom of the winter of one’s life is rarely combined with the vigor of its summer, but when such a combination happens, its possessor experiences a heady sensation of raw power. Plus it is the rare case of opportunity knocking twice.
A lot of the people boarding the ferry were people in dark suits, black shirts, black dresses, gray flannel.To Laura it appeared that everyone was wearing black or gray. It appeared to be a contemporary urban fashion statement. Black is the new in-color, and people choose black or gray when they want to be assured of blending in with the crowd so that they can have their blessed anonymity. She looked down at her own black dress and felt mildly ashamed for having unconsciously danced to the mantra of the crowd.
A tall flaxen haired man made great show of making way for her, and she saw the gleam of a turgid cock in his eyes, as he edged a hunched up ancient gentleman out of the way. Laura ignored him, and invited the ancient gent in front of her, and the lad looked flustered as if his character had been sullied. He stayed angry.
She sat with the ancient gent during the ferry ride, wondering about how she would use her new-found youth. Youth is a precious thing, and she had all but frittered it away the first time around. This time she was going to be very careful. Even though that itch between her legs asked her to do certain things, and she would, she was also going to do right by herself and the world. She was a little annoyed with the constant vacillation she was putting herself through. First she wanted a great love story, then she wanted a hard cock to get rid of the ever worsening itch between her thighs, and now again she wanted a great love story. Calm down Laura, breathe, she told herself, crossing her legs.
The ancient gent told her about how the lurches of the ferry made his stomach roil, and she patted his arm. She knew how that felt from firsthand experience, although just then she was healthier than a crossbred ox. When they disembarked, she accompanied him in the swell of the exodus from the ferry. A few minutes later she boarded the bus that took them to midtown, while her old new friend took one that took him uptown. She had a loose plan. It was to spend some time in her old haunt, the midtown Barnes and Noble, while she soaked up the city’s urban gestalt and gaged the general reaction to her new form. It was, as it were, a test drive.
As she was boarding the bus, she saw that it was very crowded today. There were few seats available. Then she saw him. He had hair that was a mix of brown and blonde, and completely natural, however that might be. His eyes housed storm clouds, as though Zeus and Poseidon were battling for supremacy. His skin shone a healthy bronze. He was what some people might call ‘a tall drink of water’. The itch between her legs went off the charts, and she knew that she wanted him in her life.
He vacated his seat, saying, “Please.”
She was about to take the seat, when he gave her a warning look. She glared at his rudeness for moment, as she stopped herself. Next to her was a woman who appeared to be in her eighties, with mottled and wrinkled skin, silver hair with occasional red strands, and a spine that would be a candy cane any year now. Laura was embarrassed and turned red in the face, saying something silly under her breath to fill the space where she had just lost face.
“Thank you, young man,” the elderly lady said, as she took the seat.
Laura was still red in the face, and tried to look away from him. Of course. Gosh darn it! What was she thinking! She was no longer fifty seven, and not everybody offered seats to voluptuous young women in preference to more deserving cases. Nonetheless, her willingness to swoop in, without paying attention to those around her, made her feel red in the bottom.
The stormy eyes were trained on her just then. She knew that he was looking at her, but she was too embarrassed to meet his gaze, as they stood during the bus ride, holding onto the handrails. She looked in another direction. An older gentleman who must have been a wrestler earlier in life smiled at her, confident in his skills with the ladies. She smiled back noncommittally and looked away, wondering whether she was his daughter’s age or his granddaughter’s.
The storm clouds were gathering in her direction. She felt it almost as it happened. She looked in his direction just as he looked away. She was relieved and yet she was annoyed that she had just missed out on eye contact. Her emotions were currently doing a roller coaster that had just been caught in a typhoon. She wanted him to look in her direction, but she was scared that he would look in her direction. He looked in her direction.
His gray eyes met her hazel ones and a moment passed between. A moment of acknowledgment perhaps, or maybe a moment that carried some strange, implicit knowledge of the future in it. Whatever it was, it was a moment that was significant. He held her gaze and smiled. She felt flustered, feeling something in her stomach. Perhaps this was what people called butterflies.
She struggled with the feeling, trying to maintain her gaze. She wanted to say something to him. He was exactly what she wanted. Besides, he had just offered his seat to an elderly lady in preference to a hot young thing, so clearly he had what she was looking for.
“You’re headed to Barnes and Noble aren’t you?” he said.
She was equally startled that he had addressed her, and that he knew where she was headed.
“How did you figure that out?” she said, feeling annoyed that he had somehow deduced it. She immediately contemplated changing her destination, so that she could show him.
“Your dress, your attention, lots of things,” he said.
“My dress and my attention?” she was at a loss for words.
The power in his gray eyes was palpable, and it was difficult to retain mental faculties in its ambiance. She was trying. As if getting used to a new body was not challenging enough, he was here. The itch was getting maddening just then.
“A girl who dresses in her mother’s clothes must be quite the introvert, or perhaps she just doesn’t care what people think about her,” he said, “but I think you’re the former; because you aren’t comfortable in crowded places, and retreated into your inner land a few minutes ago.