Chapter 3 #2
I lean over and kiss Junko on her shoulder, and then her neck, nuzzling her.
This feels beyond transcendent to me, calming my beyond frayed nerves with the comfort and warmth of my girlfriend.
The weight of everything about tonight has started to hit me, and the familiarity of Junko’s body, her heat, centers me.
I bite her ear playfully, but she somehow resists turning her head toward me.
I get it, but … I would love a kiss right now.
“Fucking gross …” Eric says, his expression once again sour.
“What?” I say. “Choose your words carefully, Eric.”
“You two, two fucking …” the gears in Eric’s head turn again, and he suppresses what he really wants to say, “women, fucking … kissing. Especially when …”
“You really are that dumb, aren’t you?” Junko raises her foot and plants it on Eric’s thigh, pressing in hard, her short, sculpted leg tensed, shimmering in the moonlight.
God, she’s so fucking hot. She looks at Eric, her lips a razor-straight line.
“You move, and you’re dead.” She then turns her head toward me. “C’mere …”
I giggle with glee as Junko tilts her head to kiss me, and I greedily accept her offer, our lips meeting.
If the slight thrill of just touching her was enough to set me off, actually kissing her is almost enough to make me moan with pleasure, at the release of being able to feel something that’s not impending dread or tense concentration, as the last three days have been.
Our tongues intertwine, and even though I’ve made out with Junko a thousand times, this feels like the first, electricity passing between us, making me feel more alive than I have in months, maybe since we concocted this whole scheme to get our revenge on this motherfucker.
I feel my nipples harden under the tight material of my bra, and my girldick strains against the tight satin panties that were designed to minimize any bulging and were fighting for their life in this moment.
It’s all too much, and I know if I keep going, my brain will be so fuzzy that Junko and I are apt to make mistakes, and we have a few more things to do before the night is over. So, I pull back from the kiss, cradling her chin and releasing her, reluctantly.
“I love you,” I say.
“I fucking love you,” she returns.
Eric grumbles, his face turned to a performative scowl.
He didn’t have to look at us kissing, but it seems like he was paying rapt attention to the two trannies making out.
And I know the displeasure on his face is all an act, anyway.
The emails we downloaded from the company server, where we got the damning HR letter, tell a far different story about his attractions than Eric wants to let on.
Calling a sex worker ‘my favorite femboy,’ screenshots of DMs on dating apps that he emailed to himself for safe keeping, apparently, showing dozens of conversations and explicit pictures shared between himself and more t-girls than an overloaded furry polycule.
This is how these chasers are, though, especially the rich ones.
It’s not him having flirty texts and sex with trans women and femboys that I hold against him …
that would be really fucking hypocritical of me …
no, it’s the fact that he can do all of this, for years, and still when he is confronted with the idea that him being outwardly transphobic in public life could cost him said life, he acts like it’s all such a disgusting thing to see.
“Eric …” I turn back toward him, “I know it must be tough to see two people sharing real affection, but that’s what it looks like.”
“Plus, don’t act like you hate watching trans women make out, Mr. Moore.
That access we got to your email, did you think we just stopped there?
We looked at your internet history, even the private browsing logs, which I’m sure you know aren’t really private at all,” Junko says.
“If you’d be honest with yourself, if you maybe did some soul searching, I’d imagine you would discover you’re probably pansexual, since your video history shows a pretty …
honestly wide breadth of porn preferences.
Guys, girls, guys with guys, girls with girls … you really run the gamut.”
“The monster stuff too … some of that was …”
“That was actually hot.” Junko gives me a twisted smile. “Bookmarked some of those for later.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Eric groans.
“We weren’t judging you, Eric.” I stomp the heel of my shoe into the ground, eliciting another loud clack. “I love that kind of stuff … Junko does too.”
Junko shrugs and smirks.
“But you see, we’re honest about it. You and your little right-wing fuckboys want to act like you’re so pure, like you uphold the values of Christian masculinity and only have eyes for breedable red-blooded American women …
but we know what you’ve really done, what you all do.
Why Grindr sees flurries of activity whenever you have one of your ‘alpha male’ conferences …
why trans girls make money hand over fist from whales just like you, the kind of guys who say they hate us, but we know the truth, don’t we?
” I step forward to Eric, putting my heel into the couch, the spike mere inches from his balls …
not that stepping on them like that would exactly have a painful reaction from him, but it’s good to keep the threat real.
“You’re obsessed with us. We show you how malleable and fragile masculinity is,” Junko says.
“If we can change ourselves this much with a few doses of hormones, some contouring, and a wardrobe refresh, it shows you that what you value so much, that thing that you think is hard-coded into your DNA, the social construct of all the little ‘manly’ routines you busy yourself with are just a bullshit illusion that you’ve decided to bet everything on.
And it makes you furious.” Junko tilts her head, her grin spreading to the edges of her face.
I wonder how long she’d practiced that line delivery or if she was just doing it off the top of her head.
Have I mentioned that I fucking love her?
“That … or you want to fuck us, and for a lot of you guys it’s both. ”
“You think you’ve figured it out, don’t you?” Eric says.
“Tell me I’m wrong.” Junko’s pout is imposing and beautiful, and much more than Eric deserves.
But then, the energy in the room shifts, and I can feel it before I can see it.
Eric leans forward and grabs at my calf, pulling me toward him.
I’m already off-balance, but I have enough leverage to pull away from his grip, kicking upward.
But, my move doesn’t exactly happen cleanly, and the edge of my heel scrapes across Eric’s face as I turn away, leaving a red streak as I swipe him from chin to eyebrow.
“Fuck!” He screams, and I’m able to right myself and look back to see him gripping his face, the blood already starting to fall across his cheek in a solid sheet of crimson.
“Cassie, that was—” Junko stops herself and squints with the realization that she’s revealed my real name.
Names are always a big subject with trans people, and Junko has been Junko legally for as long as I’ve known her, but me being legally Cassie is a rather new development, and were Eric to get out of this, having both of our names would give him more than a little data to triangulate us.
So, Junko calling me Cassie wasn’t … great.
“I … I mean Carmilla …” Junko stammers, the cool confidence she’d been carrying the whole night, showing, cracks and fissures.
Everything in me is saying to comfort her, to show the softness and love that I show her when she gets nervous, when she thinks she’s fucked something up, or just when she is overthinking things, which is pretty regularly.
But I know I can’t do that, because Eric will seize on it in a moment and see it as weakness.
“You … fucking … bitch,” Eric growls, and I’m very quickly reminded of the task at hand.
“That’ll probably leave a scar …” I say.
“Yeah, it’ll leave a fucking scar you fucking cunt!”
“Oh, shut up, you can afford better plastic surgery than anybody …”
Eric lowers his head and grunts, the blood now covering his neck and chest. Any cuts to the face bleed like hell, and Eric is proving that beyond any doubt.
And maybe it’s the blood lust. Maybe it’s his fight or flight response kicking in, or maybe he knows that he’s out of options, but whatever it is, it causes him to spring up from the couch and lunge at me.
He does it so quickly that it catches me off guard, and we both go tumbling to the ground, him on top of me.
His arms are toned by dozens of hours in the gym, something he’s proud of, I’m sure … and I’m not proud of how panicked and small it makes me feel as he drives my shoulders into the floor.
“I’ll kill you. You’ll fucking disappear from the face of the earth,” Eric seethes, blood dripping from his face and onto my neck and chest. His craze and the adrenaline make it even harder for me to move at all. I try to fight back, but the way he has me pinned leaves me with no defense.
Eric takes one hand from my shoulder and crosses it over my chest, starting at my sternum but quickly moving upward along my neck.
My throat tightens, and even after a second of him pushing on my airway, I feel lightheaded.
The pressure is immense, and I kick my legs underneath me to try to gain purchase, but nothing happens.
After a couple more seconds, my vision begins to fail.
From the edges, darkness begins crawling in and my ears begin throbbing as blood desperately tries to reach my brain, but there’s no use.
But then, all in one flash of a moment, the tension releases entirely. I feel Eric’s arm go slack across my neck, the rest of him following suit. He slumps to the side, and I take a shallow breath as air returns to me.
When you lose consciousness or even come close to it, coming back from it feels like you’re watching the second episode of a TV show.
There are pieces of what happened before that are quite clear that you should know, but you have no context for it other than what you’re picking up from context clues.
In this case, my context clues are mostly pieces of Eric’s skull and brain scattered across my chest and, to my dismay, in my fucking hair.
“Cassie!” Junko screams, her voice pleading. I can tell she thinks I’m already dead, even in this sleepy half-realized moment. I move what I can to reassure her, and somehow I muster enough energy to lift one shoulder off the ground in an attempt to turn toward her.
Eric falls away from me, just as lifeless as moments ago. When I get a good look at him, it’s very clear that life isn’t something that will be coming back to him soon. Or ever.
“I’m …” I say, my ears buzzing, “I’m alright, I’m here.”
“Fuck … baby!” Junko scrambles over to me, the gun thudding on the ground next to my head. She helps me sit up and push Eric’s corpse away from us. He’s still sticky with blood and bits that will take forever to clean up.
“That’s not how … we weren’t supposed to use the gun …” I say, “But it is really fucking hot how you saved my life.” I look at Junko and grin through viscera and entrails.
“I know, I know, he just … he was going to kill you. Frankly, I thought he did kill you.” Junko brushes my hair out of my eyes.
“Nope, still here,” I say with a sigh.
“We’ll need to figure out what to do with …” Junko looks over at Eric … formerly Eric now, I guess.
“We stick to the plan, he just doesn’t have a head now,” I say.
“Burn it all down?”
“All of it,” I say with a blood-covered smirk.
“What do we do after that?”
I shrug. “We get the fuck away from here, and we figure it out.”
“Just like we always have.”