“Did you bring that with you?”

“Uh-huh. Do you like it?”

I followed her through the weeds. “Well, it’s different.” Judging from its distance and the angle from the car, she had put it up in the hospital parking lot.

“It’s more comfortable than a sports car,” she said.

I shrugged. “I won’t deny it.” I recognized the gazebo as a variation of the Komfy-Kamper (1998): “All the comforts of home in a single unit.” I wondered if I should reach out for her hand. She was looking strangely at me too. I reached out…

We walked side by side the short remaining distance.

“Why did you come back here?” I asked.

“To see if anyone else would,” she said. “I was lonely.”

“Me too,” I admitted. “I suddenly discovered I couldn’t find myself. I’d excised my past and there didn’t seem to be any me in the future—”

“You too? That’s what happened to me. I couldn’t even find my Aunt Jane.”

“—so I thought I’d come looking for a variant Dan and find out what happened.”

I stopped abruptly. I certainly had found a variant Dan. About as variant as I could get … I wondered what I was shaped like under those clothes.

She let go of my hand and took a step back; she cocked her head curiously. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re very pretty.”

She flushed, then she recovered. “You’re kind of cute too.” She peered closely at me. “I’ve always wondered what I would look like as a boy. Now I know; I’d be very handsome.” Impulsively she put her hands on my chest. “And very nicely built too — not too much muscle, not so many as to look brutish; just enough to look manly.”

Now it was my turn to be embarrassed. I dropped my gaze to her breasts.

“You can touch me if you want.”

I wanted to. I did.

Her breasts were nice.

“I don’t wear a bra,” she said.

“I noticed.”

“Do I pass inspection?” she whispered.

“Oh, yes,” I said. “Very much so.”

She pressed close to me, she moved her face up to mine…

The kiss lasted for a very long, long time.

The sun was lowering behind the western hills. The sky was all shades of purple and orange. Twilight was a gray-blue haze.

We’d been talking for hours. We’d stopped to eat and then we’d talked some more.

We had pulled the shades on three sides of the gazebo and turned the heat up. We sat naked in the glow of the electric fire and watched the sunset.

“The more I look at you, the prettier you get,” she murmured.

“You too.” I stretched across the heater and kissed her.

“Careful,” she said after a moment. “Don’t burn anything off. We may want to use it again.”

“I hope so.” I kissed her again, while she cupped me protectively. I moved closer.

We lay there side by side for a while. “I can’t get over how good you feel.” Her hands stroked up and down my back, my sides, my legs; my hands held her shoulders, her breasts. I kissed them gently, I kissed her eyelids too.

She looked up at me. “I liked having you inside me. It was very good.”

“I liked being inside you.”

She hugged me tight. “I could stay like this forever.”

“Me too.”

There was silence. The night gathered softly. Our words hung in the air.

Finally I said, “You know, we could. We could stay here forever.”

“Do you want to … ?”

“Yes,” I whispered. I began to move again. “Oh, yes.”

“Oh, Dan,” she gasped. “Oh, my darling, my sweet, sweet Dan—”

“Oh, baby, yes—” I rearranged my position on top of her and again the silvery warmth tingled—

Exploded.

Delighted.

—slid into me.

He was around me and inside me, his arms and legs and penis; we rocked and moved together, we fitted like one person. He filled me till I overflowed, kindled and inflamed—

We gasped and giggled and sighed and soared and sang and laughed and cried and leaped and flew and—

—dazzled and burst, exploding fireworks, surging fire—

We rustled and sighed. And died. And hugged and held on.

He was still within me. Sweet squeeze, warmth. I held him tight. I loved the feel of him, the taste of him. I loved the smell of him — the sweaty sense of masculine man. Musky. I melted, under him, around him.

Loved him.

January night. Cold wind. We pulled the last shade.

There was just one more thing. I had to make it complete.

“Dan,” I whispered. “I have to tell you something.”

“What?” In the pink light, his face was glowing.

I took a breath. “I — I’m not exactly a virgin.”

“Of course not,” he grinned. “We just took care of that.”

“No, that’s not what I meant. I wasn’t a virgin — before.”

“Oh?”

“I mean—” I forced myself to go on. I had to tell him everything or it wouldn’t be any good. “I was only a ‘technical virgin.’ I’d never done it with a boy before. You were the first.”

“Yes, of course,” he said quietly. “I should have realized. You only did it with …”

“Only Donna — and Diana. I mean, I only did it with myself. When I was Donna, I—”

He cut me off gently, “I know.”

“Is it all right?” I had to know. “You’re not disappointed in me?”

“Of course not. I — understand.”

“I only did it because I was lonely.”

“No,” he said slowly, shaking his head. “You wanted to do it and you enjoyed it. You did it because you’re the only person you can trust, the only person you feel completely at ease with, and you wanted to express your feelings and your affection. You did it because you loved yourself”

“I — yes, you’re right.” I couldn’t deny it.

“Diana,” he whispered. “Think a minute. About me. I’m both Don and Dan. I’m the male reflection of you.”

His eyes were bright.

“Did you—?” I couldn’t finish the question.

But he knew what I meant. He nodded. “We did — I did.”

I thought about that. Dan. Diane.

Dan. Diane.

Boy, Girl.

Same. Person.

And suddenly I was crying. Crying, sobbing into his arms. “Oh, Dan, I’m so sorry—”

He stroked my hair. “It’s all right, sweetheart. There’s nothing to be sorry about, nothing at all.”

“I’m so stupid—”

“No, you’re not. You were smart enough to come looking for me, weren’t you?”

“Oh, no — I didn’t know what I was looking for. I just didn’t want to be alone anymore.”

“Neither did I. I didn’t know what I wanted either, but you’re just perfect—”

“So are you—” I wiped at the tears on his chest. I didn’t know what I was feeling anymore. I felt ripped up and ripped open. I felt so vulnerable. And at the same time, I felt everything was all right too. He wasn’t me. But he was. And I couldn’t get enough of him. He tasted good. Was I in love or just infatuated? Or was I trying to prove something to myself? I don’t know. But he was the first man I ever felt I could trust. I started crying again, I don’t know why. “Hold me, Dan, hold me tight. Don’t let go. I want you inside me again.”

“Oh, yes, baby. Yes, yes. Yes — Oh, Danny, I love you.”

“Diane, I love you too!”

The sensuousness of sex. The maleness of me. The femaleness of her. The physical sensations of strength and warmth. Flesh against smooth flesh. Firm resistance, supple yielding.

Sex with Diane is different from any kind of sex I have ever had before. There is something boyish about her that I find strangely attractive, yet deliciously feminine. I put my arms around her and she is neither male nor female, but a little of each. And there is something feminine in me that she responds to. (Perhaps it is a quality that is common to both of us and independent of physical gender. An androgynous quality. My body may be male or it may be female, but I am neither — I am me.)