What a dream boat. His name was Xavier, and I was high. When I'm high, I tend to forget that I'm supposed to be a guy. Female instincts take over, and I'm putty in the hands of a man named Xavier who has a sexy Brazillian accent and an aura of strong, confident yet quiet and peaceful machismo.
I don't know why, but my whole life I've had crush after crush on people who are Latino or Hispanic or both. There have even been a few Hispanic girls I've liked, if I can admit to being a little naughty.
It was a bad day today, and I slipped into a parallel universe. It's your universe, where I'm just another female, a female who was interested in computer programming from a young age. I remember his modestness, Xavier's. He showed me his beautiful baby girl and his proud son. I am sure that in his heart he does not love me, but he loves his wife, the mother of those children.
She is a good woman. In that parallel universe I sometimes slip into by accident, there are good women just as there are good men.
A man is wild, though, and a man from your world can tell when a stranger from my bleak world slips through the dimensional membrane, just a half a mllimetre in the W direction and jump to the left. Let's do the time warp again. In my world, they shame people like me with the Rocky Horror Picture Show.
In your world, I become a young woman of about 29, and Xavier was a young man of about 32. His accent enthralled me and hypnotized me. His eyes were so strong, and the way he held me was irresistable.
It turned out that some of the network problems we were having were due to a badly configured Cisco switch. If he hadn't pulled my petite hacker waist, still a virgin's, up to his strong abdomen, we might not have found the problem. He put things together I was saying, and then we kissed passonitely.
I suppose no matter what side of the dimensional divide I'm on, I need a man, a strong man. Xavier was my strong man earlier today. He was so gentle and so strong. If he had wanted, and his fingers at least wanted as they found their way to the button on my slacks, I would have been his.
I am so weak, so weak in the hands of strong men who speak Portugese or Spanish as a first language and English as a second. It's my linguist instinct. I want to learn. I want, I want, I want more than learning. I yearn, and I desire.
Then my phone rang, and I was pulled, dragged across the dimensional membrane. Xavier was sitting on the other side of the room, but this was a different Xavier. I had a different body, back in the transgendered body again, I was. I answered the phone. A pregnant woman had slammed the side of my car with her SUV door.
I despaired. Xavier, don't you remember me, the cute girl you called Gwen when you held me in your arms and kissed me so passionently? Please, Xavier, save me from this hell.
Xavier was engrossed in an explanation of a VMWare environment to Alex, my co-worker in the other universe.
Will I ever meet the Xavier who kissed me so intensely, pulled me to him and kissed me?