Me and My Boi by Sacchi Green

Author:Sacchi Green
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Me and My Boi
ISBN: 9781627781398
Publisher: Cleis Press
Published: 2016-05-20T16:00:00+00:00

WELDER BOI

Axa Lee

Why be a boi on a farm?” I asked her once. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just be a lesbian?”

She snorted. “Have you ever tried being a woman on a farm?” She slammed the drawer of the big toolbox shut, making me jump.

“I’m not asking them to think of me as another gender, just as something other than ‘Harold Milford’s daughter.’ It shouldn’t matter if I have a cock or not, just as long as I do good work.”

Gender is the only thing fluid about her. In the rest, she is metal and flame.

“But you didn’t want to be butch?”

She rolled her eyes at me. “Why do you have to label everything?”

We got back to this often, and she already knew the answer. Gays label everything, in my opinion, all the while insisting on the limitations of labels. Bitches be cray, I tell her, and that’s why we love them.

With a sharp nod of her head, she tipped the welding helmet over her eyes and sparked her rod.

I love watching her weld. She ties that bandana around her cropped blonde hair, tips that helmet down with a sharp motion of her chin, her spark ignites, and she’s nothing but liquid flame. She’s an artist, a true creative. Though she laughs when I tell her this and says she’s only welding fence posts.

Sweat drips down her back beneath the leather protective gear, her arms are veined and strong beneath those heavy gloves, her leather boots with the steel toes peeking through… there’s just nothing that isn’t sexy.

She comes to me later, stripped down to her white wife-beater and favorite battered jeans that ride low-slung across her narrow hips, so worn they’re as soft as a T-shirt, her muscular chest almost as flat as a boy’s, a real boy’s. She’s not one for labels and laughed when I told her what hers was, then pulled me across her lap and kissed me, the scent of steel and fire wafting between us.

There’s always a tang of fire in her hair, a breath of metal about her, as if she took the elements of her craft into herself and continued to exude them. Or was made of them all along.

She doesn’t believe in feng shui or astrology, so when I talk to her of elements, of water signs and fire signs, of dragons, wood or Taurus, she rolls her eyes and lets her beer bottle dangle between her fingertips.

“Dialing psychic hotline, Crazy speaking.” She holds her fingers like a phone, thumb to ear and pinkie to mouth.

I read her palm once, traced the heart line, the lifeline, and explained that the squared tips of her fingers and close nails meant she was a very practical person.

“You’ve met me, right?” she said. “Is there any way to describe me other than practical?” She laughed and cupped the back of my head, bending me in for a kiss.

“Just let it be, Jess,” she said.

But, as she said, she’s met me. I can’t let it be.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.