3. Sally
CHAPTER THREE
Sally
I was twelve when the Reeds adopted me into their family.
Imagine my surprise when two women who loved each other wanted to take me into their family.
My own birth parents didn’t even love me enough to wait until I was out of the room to argue.
I was even surprised to find that all my new siblings were also adopted.
A family that loves each other without blood connecting any of us.
At first they were just taking me in as a trail period, which they would deny.
I still remember the meeting like it was yesterday.
They both came into the room. Mama wore a green sundress that made her look like she was radiating sunlight at that moment.
Ma looked like she was holding something back.
While Mama pulled me into a hug, Ma stayed on the other side of the room.
It wasn’t until the papers were signed that she pulled me into a bone-crushing hug like she had wanted to do that from the start but needed reassurance that I was going home with them.
Each time I looked at Mama, with her long hair and makeup, it made my stomach ache. I spent hours looking in the mirror, wanting to just change. It wasn’t until she caught me with one of her wigs that they both had a talk with me that changed my life.
A car horn takes me out of my thoughts with a jump.
My moms are going to kill me if they ever find out about my situation.
The fluorescent lights of the motel flood into the Reed family car.
Well, we have three family cars: one for Moms, the second one belongs to Miguel now, and then the third car goes to the youngest Reed siblings.
That mostly involves Leon, Ella, and me.
Mimi and Lotte are in bigger cities that use tram systems to get around, so they don’t need a car.
This weekend is my turn with the car, but I don’t want any of them to worry.
The motel lights flicker, creating an ominous aura surrounding the building.
It is dark out now, so the only light for miles is right in front of me.
I look around the building that I visit every few weeks, seeing the pool that I’ve never seen a single person swim in and the front desk employee who is half asleep.
My phone lights up.
HungDiscreet
Room 106
Princess
On my way
The two-star establishment is home to many wonders. Roaches are the first thing that comes to mind when thinking of this cesspool of a home. There’s the moss growing at the bottom of the pool for the unlucky guest that finds themself staying here for a night.
This motel is home to the abundant number of hookups generated from every hookup app under the sun. Darien is small but not so small that it’s only populated with straight people. My family is a perfect example.
Not everyone has the confidence my siblings have. Leon and Ella don’t care what people think of them, and I care too much.
I knock on the door and hear the shifting and squeak of the motel bed. The door opens, and a man, probably ten years older than me, stares back at eye level. I’m not even wearing heels right now.
He shifts awkwardly, letting me in as I make my way over to the bed and take a seat. I take a second to look around the room, seeing the same motel décor. A single light on the wall keeps the room lit, a single nightstand, and the curtains are pulled closed already.
I bring my gaze to my conquest tonight. He’s wearing a blue collared shirt and a tie.
Looks like he just came back from work. Guilt forms as I imagine this being his escape from a potential spouse.
His fingers lack rings. It is stupid, but not seeing a wedding ring makes me feel less dirty.
I’m not a homewrecker, but I’m not so delusional to think I’ve never helped ruin a marriage.
He walks over to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. I let out a soft chuckle. It might be hard to believe, but this is normal. All of this is normal—at least for me, it is.
I get up and make my way to the old mirror on the wall. Nerves start to bubble up as the man takes longer in the bathroom. Staying out too late is going to make Ella worry.
This was only supposed to be an hour ordeal, but it’s been fifteen minutes, and now I’ve had time to criticize my appearance.
My lips feel raw from the three different shades of pink I’ve layered and wiped off.
Don’t get me started on the fact that my right eyeliner is uneven compared to my left eye, which looks perfect.
I’m not bad at makeup, but eyeliner is the bane of my existence.
With an annoyingly loud squeak, the bathroom door opens.
His gaze runs over my body, and he walks over to the bed, plopping me down on the mattress. He nervously rakes his hand through his hair.
“How old are you?”
“Nineteen.” It isn’t a total lie. I turn nineteen at the end of July. When the men I hook up with are in their mid-twenties and suffering a quarterly life crisis, that little number change makes them feel better.
“Are you home from college?”
Small talk? He must really be nervous about what’s happening.
“My name’s David, by the way,” he says.
I hate small talk.
Making friends is not the point of this hotel. We are both here because we crave things society hates.
“Yeah.”
“Where do you go?”
His shirt is unbuttoned and untucked. With a glance, I notice the tie left on the bathroom floor.
“You don’t talk much, do you?” he continues before patting the bed next to him.
Let’s get this over with.
I take a seat next to him, turning myself slightly so we are facing each other. “I go to Grace Hill University.”
That, again, isn’t a total lie. I am going to Grace Hill, but that won’t be until August.
“Wow,” he says, then stares at me and forms a smile.
“What?”
He rakes his hand through his hair and then takes a shaky breath. “You’re actually really pretty.”
A frown forms on my face, which causes his happy demeanor to be replaced with confusion. Does he think that is a compliment? He’s surprised that a trans girl could be pretty. The fact that I’m pretty makes sleeping with me easier.
“Did I say something wrong?”
I could voice all the thoughts racing through my veins, but then I would leave, and that would just cause trouble that I don’t want to deal with. So, instead, I just bring my lips to his.
My eyes wander to the floor, where I spot his phone, and my heart and body relax.
He grabs my waist, hoisting me onto his lap and bringing his hands up my shirt as he drags his fingers against my spine.
His dick pushes up against my inner thigh, igniting a bigger fire as we continue to make out.
We break apart, and he sinks his teeth into my neck.
I stiffen, a grimace from his presence against my skin.
Nerves course through my body, making my fingertips feel numb.
My fingers tighten around the collar of his shirt, which he mistakes for pleasure and not the fire against my skin saying abort.
I can’t leave until I fill in whatever I’m missing.
I close my eyes and go through the motions waiting for it to be over.
I don’t hate sex, not in the least. I actually like the thrill of the climax—or at least whatever these guys can give me that imitates a climax.
I just know what they see me as, which is why I cut the small talk short.
I want it to be done as quickly as possible.
I’ll get my high, and they’ll get their fetish.
Being here isn’t healthy, but it is the only way I can feel this fire on my skin.
Other high schoolers get the chance to experience relationships and affection.
They get to experience love. It’s not like what I’m feeling now is love, but I can’t just go to a party, see someone, and decide I’m going to hook up with them.
I have to plan and sneak around with men who think my existence is a fetish.
I want to feel loved, and this is the closest I can get to it right now—maybe even for the rest of my life. Am I really going to settle for a bar that is six feet under?
The rest of the night is filled with empty emotions that fade shortly after they arrive.
He didn’t last long, and now his body fills up half of the bed.
He asked to cuddle afterward. I wanted to say no, because touching him anymore would make my skin crawl.
But he looked just as desperate as me, so I let him wrap his arms around me and hold me tight, pretending this meant something
The night drags on as the clock ticks, synchronizing with his breaths.
Sleep.
He’s asleep, which means I can leave and not have to deal with the post thoughts that would come out after he wakes up.
I take his arm off me and slip out of the bed, quickly picking up the discarded clothing and putting mine back on.
Just as I am about to make my departure, his phone lights up. In the heat of the moment, he had dropped it onto the floor. My curiosity strikes, and I pick up the phone to see what the notification is, but all I see is the lock screen.
A wife and kids.
He has a wife and kids.
The text reads: Hope you got in safe from your business trip.
The photo is of him, a woman, and two little kids, all of them smiling like they are the happiest family ever. Looks just like the type of photos that decorate my house.
I’m ruining a family.