Memories - Nails

"Your nails are so dry," Emily told me somewhat early on in our exploration.

"It's winter," I said, "besides, I moisturize."

"That's for your skin, silly, you really need something different for your nails. I have something you can use," she said, "I'll bring it over Friday."

I assumed she had some lotion, but I was wrong, it was a bottle of clear polish, something to be applied just like any other polish.

"Um...what's all that?" I asked, seeing the bottle, clippers, a file, other things.

"Nail strengthener," she said. 

"That...that's polish," I replied. 

She shrugged. "Clear strengthener," she insisted. 

"And all that?" 

"Come on, you've never had a manicure?"

"N...no," I said.

"Why don't you put on something pretty then," she said, smiling, "this will be fun. Trust me, wearing this all winter will really protect your nails."

"Wait, what do you mean all winter?" I asked.

She looked at me. "Like all winter," she said.

"I...I can't wear nail polish to work," I said.

"It's not nail polish, it's nail strengthener," she said.

"It looks like polish to me," I said, not objecting to painting my nails, more objecting to any thought I'd keep them like that past the weekend. "Maybe...maybe till Monday."

"Hon," she wrinkled her brow, "this isn't a weekend thing, it's a all winter thing."

"Emily..."

"Put on something pretty and let me give you a manicure," she said.

"I...I can't wear that to work," I said.

"You can," she said. "It is just strengthener, don't worry. Look, I'm wearing it."

I looked at her hand, her fingers. They were clear, maybe a slight pink hue, slightly shiny. For a girl, as subtle as possible, but for a boy? "People...people will know."

She shrugged. "So? No one will say anything and if they do, all you need to say is your girlfriend suggested this to protect you nails over the winter."

"People will stare," I said.

"Guys won't notice and so what anyway; it's not like you fit in with them."

"Women will notice," I said.

"I hope so," she said, with a grin. 

"They'll think I'm..."

"What?" she asked. "Gay? Effeminate? Metro? So what? You're taken, it doesn't matter. Besides, they might see you as safe."

"Safe?"

"Women see boys they think are gay as safe cause they don't have to worry about them hitting on them."

"I'm not gay," I said.

"But you're safe," she said, "because you belong to me. I'd much rather have them see you as one of the girls."

"Emily!"

"You're mine," she said, "haven't you worked that out by now? You're mine. Now put on something pretty, maybe that pink babydoll and panties and let me give you a manicure."

"Em..."

"Be sure to...you know...tuck...this is a girly thing."

I watched as she worked on my nails, painted the polish on my fingers...strengthener, ha! It was polish. Clear, pink undertone, but polish like hers. 

"Well?" She asked. "We'll keep them on the short side," she said, "I appreciate you don't want to look too feminine."

"They...it's...pretty."

She took my hand in hers, guided it over my chest, over the satin babydoll. I looked down, it looked like two women's hands touching me. "You like?"

"Emily," I said, looking at her. 

"You'll look more feminine like this, just softer when dressed as a boy, kind of another reminder what you are...and who you belong to."

"Can...can I..." I reached for her; she moved her hand with me, let me touch her chest through her blouse. "It...it's like two...two girls' hands," I said.

"I know," she smiled, "kind of the point. Don't touch me like a man does, don't touch me like a boy does, touch me like a girl does."

"I don't...I never thought...that...I'd find someone..."

"I know," she said, "I know."

People at work did notice, not all, but some. The guys that noticed just chucked it up to the weird guy who didn't fit in and continued to ignore me. The women who noticed (most) were closer to what Emily predicted...thinking of me as safe, assuming I was gay, or close to it. Reinforcing their priors, Emily said.

"Remember, I thought you were, well..."

"Gay," I said.

She shrugged. "Or close to it." We were in bed another night, hands intertwined, touching her chest, mine, two soft hands, two feminine hands.

"This isn't very gay," I said.

"It isn't exactly straight though, either," she laughed, "not exactly what I usually do in bed with a guy."

"I...I'm not like that," I said.

"No you're not," she smiled, "no you're not."