Intersex: Noun
1: a term used to describe people who are born with biological sex characteristics that don’t fit the binary of male or female. These characteristics can include reproductive organs, anatomy, hormones, or chromosomes. Intersex traits may be apparent at birth, or they may not appear until puberty or adulthood.
Ash
Thankfully, things between me and Ricky settled down once we were on the road. We talked about easy, normal stuff–well, what passed for normal between nerds. Anyway, I found it easy to talk to Ricky about–most–anything but there was one topic I preferred to skip.
“How did you wind up in this arrangement with Trevor, anyway?” He asked out of the blue. It felt like I suddenly swallowed a frog. “Ash–?” I saw how Ricky frowned when he grew concerned. He had a highly expressive face, the kind my fingers twitched to touch–er–draw! I meant to draw. Anyway, I cleared my throat as we sat at a stoplight.
“What happened to taking things slow?” I tried to keep my tone light and playful. I don’t think I managed it.
“I thought about that,” he announced. “Before I can focus on enjoying your company, I need to know more about your arrangement with Trevor. You alluded that if I were willing, you and I could date and sleep together as long as Trevor knew about it. Unless I got that part wrong.”
“No, no, you got it about right.” I was so glad he could not see the red creeping into my cheeks.
“Well, I want to know more about this arrangement. How did it happen?” He leaned in my direction slightly, listening closely as I looked down a figurative rabbit hole full of bear traps.
So, I chose to be honest. I told Ricky about the long drive here from North Carolina and how Trevor and I upgraded our relationship status from besties to boyfriends along the way. I reminded him about what I said earlier, that I came here to start a new life and that included finding out what I wanted from a relationship. That meant meeting guys and dating.
“So Trevor chose to go along with your plan while still being your boyfriend?” Ricky asked.
“That sounds about right.” I confirmed while changing lanes on Apache Boulevard. --Damn, but Phoenix traffic sucked donkey dick–with teeth.
Ricky pondered. “So this guy–who just jacked off with a stranger in a public toilet–enters into a loving, committed relationship with you. He then turns to you and says ‘I don’t mind if you date and have sex with other guys. We can still be boyfriends’”. What does he expect you to say to guys when you date? ‘My boyfriend lets me date other men’? How does he expect that to go over with guys? You don’t know what you want but from the very beginning you are in a position to either lie about your relationship or say something that sounds like all you want is a hookup. Is that all you want, Ash–to hook up?”
“Not at all!” I answered forthrightly. “A lotta guys don’t know what they want until they have it, it’s not as weird as you’re making it sound. Besides, I ain’t in no rush to get married or anything. I mean, I’m open to see what happens. Ricky, you’re my friend! It could never be ‘just’ a hookup between us!”
Ricky smiled at that, “thanks, Ash. I consider you my friend too. That’s why I need to know more.”
“I’ll tell you what I know,” I promised and Ricky grew thoughtful.
“What if you meet a guy and things get serious? What about Trevor?”
Oh, shit, the very thing I'm thinking about, I thought. I pondered my response carefully before I spoke. “Hopefully, by then, he will have met Trevor and be serious about him too.”
“So, you come as part of a package deal.” Ricky arched an eyebrow.
“Why not?” I said back to him. “There is a lot to love about Trevor. You’ll find out.”
“But you said earlier that you didn’t want to share me with Trevor.” He reminded me. “So, that kind of limits us to friendship. I mean, you’re a package deal, but you won’t share the other part of the parcel.” It was more of a question than a statement.
Shit. I hoped he’d forgotten about that. He was forcing me to think about the thing I didn’t want to think about.
“I don’t know why I said that.” I confessed.
“Maybe that is how you honestly feel, Ash. There is nothing wrong with that. You wanted time to explore and discover what you wanted, right? Listen to what your feelings are telling you.”
“Well, right now my feelings are telling me to talk about something else.” That came out harsher than I intended but Ricky did not act offended. On the contrary, he smiled warmly and slid his hand across the center console. I looked at it for a few seconds before taking it for a comforting squeeze.
“Okay,” he said at last, “let’s talk about something else. Who would win if the Borg invaded the Dominion?” My inner nerd swooned.
Wes and Trevor wanted makeovers from Jalan too so we changed our plans for the night. Instead of having my “big reveal” at Frank and Lupe’s, it was happening at Lee’s house. From there we would eat, then to use our fake IDs (hot off the press) to sneak those of us under 21–that being me, Trevor, Ricky, and Wes–into the club. I remember when Shea and I first talked about it.
“Are you out of your mind?!?” My arms flailed in panic. “What if we get caught?”
“We won’t get caught. My ex makes fake IDs for local highschool and underage college kids. He owes me a few favors. You want that ‘authentic highschool experience’, don’t you?” Shea grinned. “It’s this or we wait until 2:00 AM when they stop selling liquor. Lee will be VERY grumpy.”
I put on my best “reproachful scowl” and crossed my arms. “Of all people to suggest we do anything illegal–you Shea? Stop laughing!”
“I’m sorry, but just now you looked like a baby fox trying so hard to poop!”
So, yeah, we were seriously doing this crazy ass thing. I tried not to think about it but no, I had to memorize my fake name. Kids really did this in highschool?
Anyway, It tickled me how all of the guys wanted makeovers. I expected to see them wearing “war paint”, you know, like what guys wore at football games–but who knew with Jalan? I was as eager to see them as they were to see me! It felt good that they wanted to support me. I wouldn’t be the only “guy” wearing makeup tonight. It helped, I didn’t feel so nervous about it anymore. But with that fear gone, I was free to worry about Trevor and Ricky.
There was no ambiguity. Ricky stated clearly what he wanted–me–and that, using his words, he was a “greedy motherfucker”. He poured all of his love, all of his time, all of his passion into a single person and he wanted me to be that person. I should have stopped things right then and there because I loved Trevor. He never did me wrong. He stood at my side when no one else did. He was more than my best friend, he was my constant companion, my partner in crime, my confidant. I couldn’t say he was my conscience because sometimes that boy gave me pause, but I adored him in every other respect. He proved his love to me every day. I did not stop things there with Ricky, though–I couldn’t.
I felt something for Ricky that I’d never experienced before. I could not look away from him. When we kissed, the stars aligned and everything in the universe made sense. My thoughts went quiet without anyone giving me compression. His touch alone brought me to the edge of bliss. When Ricky said those words about holding nothing back, giving everything he had to a lover, my heart jumped. I wanted that! It was like hearing someone speak my language for the first time. I wanted Ricky no matter what and that terrified me. I needed to know why. I owed it to Trevor to be absolutely certain what was going on and why and the only way I was going to get those answers was to spend time with Ricky. That wasn’t going to be a problem tonight.
Ricky was right next to me in my car. He wanted to celebrate my first time at a gay club with me (he had never been to one either). He trusted me to guide him in an unfamiliar place and I took that trust seriously.
Anyway, we got to Lee’s without incident. Trevor arrived after work and made a production of taking off his sweaty clothes in front of us. That got the ladies going with catcalls and shouts of “take it all off, baby!” That only encouraged my darling scoundrel until he bared his ass with only a jockstrap to cover his modesty. At that point it became clear that Trevor was only too willing to go au naturel (I tried to warn ‘em) and the ladies shooed him giggling into the shower where he cleaned up and changed into his club clothes. He strutted out and stopped abruptly to take Ricky in. He fell back a step with a huge friendly grin on his face. “Goddamn, dude! You! Are! Jacked! How are ya, I’m Trevor.”
Ricky sat taken aback by Trevor’s fearless charm. He burst into a huge smile and extended a fist bump in Trevor’s direction. “Thanks! I work my ass off for every gain. I’m Enrique but call me Ricky.” He smiled.
“It shows” Trevor met the fist with his own. “Ricky, yeah, Ash talks about you all the time. You play a Paladin/Bard multiclass?”
“Oh, you play D&D?” Ricky perked up.
“Nah, but I played Baldur’s Gate 3. I can kinda follow along when you talk about the game.”
“That’s a PC game right? I tried playing but my character kept dying. Fuck if I know why.” His grin turned sly until Trevor got it and laughed.
“Smartass!” Trevor snorted with amusement. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
“How many am I?” Ricky flipped him off to much hilarity. I was so relieved! They liked each other!
After that, my good friends sat around sipping wine and playing “Trivial Pursuit: Star Wars Edition”. Shea kept Trevor, Ricky and Wes entertained (and out of the room) while I hid in Lee’s work room.
Lee made adjustments to my pants. I whimpered as she drew near my crotch with a garment pin in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. “Don’t worry,” she said with a toothy grin that made me more nervous. “My aim gets better when I drink. Here, hold this.” She gave me her snifter. I sniffed it and wrinkled my nose.
“I don’t get why y’all drink this stuff” I said.
“Huge buzz, it makes reality more fun,” Lee laughed. “Hold still or you might lose a few of your future generations.”
“I can’t help it!” I grumbled. “You’re poking around my gonads with something sharp and pointy–and you haven’t even bought me dinner yet!”
“Clothes that fit perfectly make men want to pull them off of you faster, Grasshopper.” She stepped back and took her wine for a sip. “It looks like they’re lining up for the opportunity as we speak.” Her eyebrows danced conspiratorially on her forehead.
Wait, what? Who was lining up? I shot my head around only to see Ricky seated outside the open door. Did she see anything going on between him and I? My brain kitties got their backs up, dancing on their toes with their tails puffed like bottle brushes in paranoia.
“Take those off but carefully!” She took the pants from me and talked while she worked. She looked out of the room at where Ricky sat laughing at a joke. She pulled me close and lowered her voice. “Ash, it’s perfectly normal for young men to flock around a pretty girl or boy–or one of us. It’s okay to entertain them. That keeps them coming back. Just mind one thing–make no promises until you’re ready.”
I followed her gaze to Ricky and felt my blood chill. How could she know? She answered as if reading my mind. “He sits where he can listen to you. He always faces in your direction. It’s adorable, really. Of course, I want to chain your feet to an anvil and push you into the Marianas Trench out of sheer sexual frustration but that’s what the wine is for.”
She chugged her wine like a beer fresh from the tap. She saw the dubious expression on my face and beamed. “Just kidding! At least, until I work out my alibi. Anyway, get dressed.”
She directed me to put the whole outfit on. This would be my first time seeing it all at once and I looked in the mirror.
I wore a three-piece top. First, a shrug of tight, stretchy, sheer black mesh–little more than long sleeves attached at the neck. It fitted like a puzzle piece with a sleeveless black top the color of shimmery hematite. Over it all I slid into a second shrug, this one sleeveless with no front panels. It matched the pants and made the outfit a true ensemble.
Speaking of pants, Lee fashioned black bondage pants of soft, stretchy black denim. I liked how she added a plethora of decorative buckles and D-clips pinched to lengths of fine, shiny chain. She finished with black ankle boots with shiny buckles and chunky, three-inch black soles that raised my height to a towering 5’5”. The ensemble fitted my body to perfection. I tested the fit with a bright smile on my face. “It’s so stretchy” I cooed with delight.
“Stretchy and breathable, you’ll need that. The dance floor gets hot. You can remove, mix, or match pieces based on how much skin you want to show. Be as daring as you want to be.”
“I love it, thank you so much!” I hugged her and damn it, I started crying. “Nobody has ever done anything like this for me.”
Lee hugged me back. “This is just the beginning, sweetheart. You need an everyday wardrobe and the weather is warming up. I have precise measurements now. Provided you don’t bulk up at the gym–” she poked me playfully, “I’ll be able to crank out new pieces to keep your closet full.”
Jalan joined us after that to give me their famous makeover. We opted for smokey, punk eyeshadow in fire colors to go with my coppery red hair and bring out the blue in my eyes. I preferred to accentuate my naturally pale complexion and kept my look minimalist and clean, no blush. I still felt weird about lipstick, so I went with cherry lip gloss. One thing I loved was painting my nails. Tonight I went with pride colors. We finished my makeover with a cute, messy punk hairstyle and a collection of chunky rings, earrings, a jangle of silver necklaces, and gay pride and intersex bangles on my wrists. Lastly, I pinned my intersex pin to my shirt. I felt great! I was ready to dance!
Jalan stepped back with a flourish, “there, you look a-fucking-mazing! If I do say so myself!” Lee called for “eyes closed” and we walked out to where the others were seated. She said “open your eyes” and asked the group, “well?” I was glad she did because I had no clue what to say.
“Damn, you look hot!” Ricky said in a loud voice with a huge smile. I couldn’t help but laugh, he was so damn comfortable in his own skin, and hot as hell to boot.
Shea applauded, while Wes and Trevor sat like gawking bookends until Trevor shook out of it and cheered “FUCK YEAH, BITCHES! That’s my boyfriend!”
I turned beet red but I was grinning so hard my face hurt. That changed when I glanced over at Ricky.
He sat forward in his chair facing down with his elbows planted on his knees. His curls hid his face but the white bone of his knuckles showed eerily through tightly clenched fists. I remembered his words as ghostly echoes in my mind.
I am a greedy motherfucker and I will shout it from the mountaintop. When I love someone I give them everything I have–all of my love, all of my time, all of my passion. I’m all in, I hold nothing back. That person is the single most important person in my life.
Oh, god, he’s hurt and he’s hiding it. I realized. I wanted to do something, say something but in a blink, Trevor pulled my attention back to him. He gave me a peck on the lips, chuckling as I admonished him. “Stop, you’ll smudge my makeup!”
He growled hotly against my ear, “I want you to leave lipstick rings on my cock tonight.”
A thrilling shiver rippled down my spine as an equally intense chill of dread shot through me. Did Ricky hear that?
I whispered back “But…I’m not wearing any!”
“So put some on later!” He winked and that was when I paid attention to what Jalan did to him.
Trevor went all out with a punk makeover. Jalan loaned him some jewelry and bangles and I had to admit, he looked amazingly hot! It went well with the black Queen T-shirt, tight threadbare bluejeans, and black Vans sneakers with neon orange laces he brought from home. I turned my attention to Ricky.
He sat up, apparently no worse for wear which made me suspicious. Anyway, Jalan gave him a punk makeover similar to Trevor’s, adding dark, sharp lines on his temples and cheekbones to create a futuristic look. Ricky’s eyes, already breathtaking, sparkled like fiery blue stars within nebulas of smokey black and purple eyeshadow. Instead of lipstick, Jalan painted a small black square descending from his bottom lip to his chin. It reminded me of a dystopian pharaonic beard. I took in Wes’ look and marveled. Somehow Trevor, Ricky, and Wes looked more masculine with makeup. “Oh, my god! Y’all are fucking hot!” I gushed.
Wes blushed bashfully, Ricky nodded stiffly in acknowledgement, while Trevor puffed up his chest and preened at the compliment. “Flattery will get you laid.”
“On that note!” Shea looked at her watch. “It is time to go.”
We piled into three cars and descended on Frank and Lupe’s with the appetite of a plague of locusts. I didn’t know why but the ladies insisted we pack ourselves full of carbs for the night ahead. Lee, Wes, and Jalan started the drinking early with margaritas. I had a feeling things were only going to get more interesting from there. We closed down Frank and Lupe’s and made our way downtown.
It blew my mind how many gay or gay-friendly bars there were in the Phoenix metro area. There was a honkytonk bar but none of us outside Shea liked country music beyond Taylor Swift–too many run-ins with nasty rednecks for my comfort and really y’all, I moved here to get away from all that.
There was a lesbian bar with a cathedral vibe that the ladies swore was friendly to everybody but the phallically-inclined among us were not impressed. There was a leather and denim fetish bar but the ladies insisted we give that one a wide berth (now I'm curious). We settled on a fun dance club that the ladies raved about.
We got to the door and the bouncer asked for our ID’s, Trevor was ahead of me in line, and I just knew we were getting caught. Nobody in a million years would believe his fake name. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, they were going to kick us out, then call the cops…I screwed everything up just to go to a gay club!!! The bouncer took out his flashlight and examined the illegal ID with a skeptical eye.
“Mister…?
“Rogers, Steve Rogers.” Trevor projected absolute confidence in his ability to apply heaping helpings of bullshit to any situation. To my utter astonishment the bouncer waved him through. I was so shocked that I forgot to be nervous when I handed over my purloined pass to the Promised Land. I remembered quick when I heard “Mr…?”
“P-P-Peter Hunter. Call me, P-P-Pete. I swallowed hard when he looked closer. And yes. Trevor picked my name too.
“Are you okay?” The searchlights and sirens went off in my head. I was blowing it! I had to think fast. “S-S-Sorry, I have a s-s-stutter. I g-g-get shit about m-m-my name all d-d-damn time.”
“I bet,” the bouncer looked at how long the line was, back at me, then seemed to weigh something on his mind, then handed my dubious document back and waved me through. I walked inside feeling like I deserved and Oscar for that performance. My friends patted me on the back. Shea leaned in with a shit-eating grin. “Congratulations, you won high school!”
We got inside and I was in awe. I googled gay dance clubs and watched videos but nothing prepared me for the reality. I’d seen sex in a public sauna (and joined in every chance I got) but seeing gay porn playing on TV screens in a public place was a shock. It was dark and the music was LOUD! The layout of the place was crazy and chaotic like a maze that opened into big rooms. Some rooms were quieter with stadium seating for more intimate conversations but the biggest had padded booths and cafe tables. There was a bar in each of the big rooms. Oh, and a patio! I guess that was for when people needed a break but they weren’t ready to leave.
There were a LOT of people brushing against me as we wove through narrow dimly lit passages, some more intimately than others. I felt like a cat brushing against other cats. That was when it clicked for me. It was like how the locker room at the gym gave everyone permission to strip naked in a public place. This club was a safe space to show affection in public. The narrow passages, the darkly lit rooms filled with places to sit in dark corners. Even the loud music gave strangers an excuse to lean closer to each other. I got into it and used every opportunity to brush against Ricky and Trevor. To my delight they responded in kind.
Our group got lost a few times until we stumbled across the main bar. Shea claimed one of the large booths for our group and we got our drinks. I took a moment to breathe and take in our surroundings.
The main dance floor wrapped around a stage with a catwalk extending out into the room. There were no dancers on the stage but a DJ in a corner booth whipped the crowd into a dancing frenzy.
“Let’s go!” Ricky yelled over the music.
I did a double take, “What?”
“I said, let's go!” It took a few tries before Ricky understood what I meant. “I know some moves. Just get me out here and keep your hand on me.”
“You can dance?” For some reason a blind man being able to dance divided the universe by zero for me.
“I had a life before, you know.” He laughed and kept prodding me until I led him into the sea of writhing bodies on the dance floor. Shea elected to ride herd on our booth while everyone else filed out to join us.
This was it, y’all. All my hopes, all my fears, all my sweat and tears led me to this moment. I was on a dance floor in an outfit certain to raise eyebrows, in makeup no “manly man” would have been caught dead wearing. I willfully and unapologetically broke the gender bonds that society shackled to me from birth–and I was not alone.
I reached this point with the help of kind people from the caregiver who saw me tested and diagnosed with Klinefelter Syndrome to Ms. Elkins, who saw that I struggled to make my way in the world and wanted to help. From Seth and Rodney, whose Village set me on my path to Brody, who gave me a chance to chase my dream. Now my friends, new and old, danced along with me, celebrating this achievement.
The gravity of this moment settled on me like a cold hand to the throat. I stopped in my tracks with a sharp gasp.
I stood there exposed to the world. In a figurative sense I planted my intersex flag and dared anyone to take it from me. I expected to receive cold stares for my audacity. I waited for titters of mocking laughter and sneers of derision. I listened for voices raised in hatred and fear, then crowding and physical blows as people drove the “freak” away by force.
It didn’t come. I stood in a seeming ocean of people standing closely together and no one noticed. Those who noticed looked at me with interest for a second or two but then returned to their evening, indifferent to the profound meaning this point in time held for me.
I stood stupefied by the utter lack of interest my act of rebellion engendered. It was truly humbling, equally as enlightening, as I suddenly beheld the colossal arrogance of trauma. Insurmountable obstacles and crippling fears played as shadows against the cave wall. I just stepped from the cave of isolation into the light of truth. I witnessed directly just how insignificant my problems were in the grand scheme of things.
“Ash?” Ricky riveted my attention with a squeeze of my hand. At the same time, Trevor wrapped his arms around my waist from behind. He was ready to perform compression when he spoke over the music.
“Do you want to go back?” He asked, his voice heavy with concern.
Back? Go?
The glory of liberation beamed from my smile as I shouted my joy for all to hear. “Fuck no! I’m here to DANCE!!!” And that’s what I did…I danced like nobody was watching because I didn’t give a crap if they were. I felt right.
To be continued….
AUTHOR NOTE: No two intersex people are alike. Ash’s symptoms reflect the experience of one person save where mentioned.
SPECIAL NOTE: I write in an imaginary world where sexually transmitted diseases do not exist. Sadly, they do in the real world. Stay safe. PrEP before you play and glove it before you love it.
