Mai thrust her pelvis out to me and I cupped it. Sure enough, a hard package. I only then fully believed she was a man. Just saying you're a man is one thing, but you can't conjure a sausage and a corresponding set of hairy boys out of nowhere. I looked up astonished, not believing the sperm dispensers I held in my hand. My mouth was gaping, but it closed when I saw his eyes. They were serious, not scared or embarrassed, as I would have anticipated. But still, I felt bad for the loneliness that I assumed must come from trying to have sex with straight men when you're not yet a woman.

"Fuck me in ass?" he asked, hopefully.

I half laughed, and for the second time in one minute was disbelieving my ears. "What?"

"Fuck me in ass." This time it was more of a command, his eyes staring into me with penetrating intent.

"Um." I'd never fucked a guy before. I had once given a few seconds of a handjob — not to completion — in seventh grade, to my friend at a sleepover. I hadn't been into the fleshy but hard feeling of a dick, and when he asked to blow me, I declined. Since then I had never so much as kissed another guy, and had never felt the desire.

But now I was faced with the prospect of a welcoming ass. I thought about it. Two small cheeks and a dark hole — how different could it be from a woman's ass? I'm not the first to identify the resemblance between a teenage boy's body and contemporary female models'. Going back at least to the ancient Greeks, the young man's body was held as the finest image of beauty a human could attain. Moreover, I reminded myself, I was travelling on a continent on which I knew not a single person. I could do whatever I wanted and never have to face any consequences. If I ever wanted to flirt with my sexual orientation, this was the time.

But I took Mai by the hand and explained that, while I appreciated the offer, I wasn't going to fuck his ass. He looked disappointed. "Please?" he asked, smiling rather charmingly. My mother always stressed the importance of manners. And I admired his audacity. To try and talk a straight guy, one you've just told you're a man, into putting his penis into your ass takes a lot of, er, balls. And I was flattered — I don't get enough girls to take a guy's affection for me for granted. But it just didn't entice me.

I led him down the path and back to the bars. Away from the beach, where it was quieter and I could absorb what has just happened. I bought him a drink and we parted ways, saying little else because both we spoke different languages and there was little to say. I found my friends an hour or so later, dancing on the beach. I rejoined them seamlessly, acting as if nothing happened. They didn't ask, I didn't say. We danced and drank and I pretended to laugh at their jokes, but my mind was elsewhere. We hopped from bar to bar, growing weary seeing the same tourist faces over and over even amidst tens of thousands of different ones. Before I left the beach, alone, around three a.m., I saw Mai across a bar. He was talking to another tourist, closely, and they were laughing. I stopped feeling sorry for Mai, and suddenly felt very lonely again.  n°

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
		Jordan Smith is a freelance writer living in Washington, D.C.