The Promise

My first story! (Well, I wrote one for an english class in 11th grade but I'm not counting that one)

I was a little surprised at how quickly it flowed out- like it was already written and I was just transcribing it? I'm sure I was inspired by the quality of writing I've read here.

It's called 'The Promise.' It involves a transgender lead character, a rape scene, anal, oral and a blasphemous act (well, I don't think of it that way but some might)

Comments? Critiques? Please be honest, I'm a big girl and want to improve it.

Okay, here goes nothing-

(Must be 18+ etc etc.)

THE PROMISE

"Too much garlic?" I wondered.

The pasta dinner I'd made for myself earlier that evening wasn't sitting well. The last of the TV talk shows was winding down, so I switched off the television and sat listening to the city's sirens outside my open apartment window. It was a hot summer night and I had indigestion.

I stood, smoothed my light cotton dress and strolled barefoot to the bathroom medicine cabinet. I reached for the box of Alka-Seltzer but the box was empty. Too late, I remembered using the last one up the morning after a big party a couple of months back. A drop of sweat ran down my neck under my ponytail. I went back to the window and looked out over the rooftops. Three blocks down the street the bright lights of the all night convenience store lit the sidewalk.

I hesitated. Should I go out in my dress or change into jeans, tee shirt and sneakers? Androgynous since I was young, I am both sexes. Because I started out with a penis and my pair of pert B-cup breasts only appeared later, I was raised as a boy, even though I knew it wasn't right. But it wasn't completely wrong either? Small framed and fair, with long brown hair and wearing makeup I appear to be a proper woman. But if I dress down and wear a baggy sweat shirt, I can just as easily be a boy.

"Oh, heck," I thought, "The dress is cooler."

I grabbed my purse, slipped on a pair of kitten heel sandals and went down the hall to the elevator.

As predicted, the street was deserted. I strolled past the brownstone stoops and their wrought iron railings, I could feel day's heat still radiating from the pavement and mixing with the cooler night air around my bare legs. I passed closed storefronts, the darkened corner church with its adjacent basketball court, an alley with overflowing trash cans. I heard a rustling, then a large brown rat darted from the trash across my path and down into the sewer.

Startled, I quickened my pace.

A block later, the bell tinkled as I pulled open the door of the little 24 hour bodega. I went to the register and pointed to the over-the-counter medicines behind the dozing clerk and said, "A box of Alka-Seltzer, please."

He rubbed his eyes. Turning to the wall he said, "Yes ma'am, Sure thing."

As I was rummaging through my purse for some money, the bell tinkled again and a gang of five te