LGBT Stories

My name is Clara Bedford and I’m as white bread as they come. My parents were born into money - old money - and lots of it. I grew up in a big white house in Westchester County. When I was a little girl I played with my little white friends. When I got older I went to private schools where almost everyone was white. Then I went to college and it was more of the same.

I have blond hair, blue eyes and fine features. I guess back then I was what you would call a WASP thoroughbred because I was very very thin. Girls from old money were supposed to be thin and I dieted and exercised to stay that way. I went to all the debutante balls in slim expensive white gowns. Eventually one of the boys at one of the balls started taking me out and soon he proposed to me. His family’s money was even older than mine. We were married in a big white church in front of our beaming white families and then moved into a big white house of our own.

We never had much of a sex life and I never had any children. My husband stopped making love to me after a few years and I didn’t mind a bit. I had heard about orgasms, but never had one and didn’t miss it. I just spent year after year going to meetings of all the best white clubs and doing work for all the best white charities. And I stayed very very thin. My parents passed away and left me with more money than God, but that didn’t affect my white life even a bit. My twentieth wedding anniversary came and went and my life never changed.

(more…)

I threw down my pencil in disgust as the words on the page danced
in front of my eyes. I still had three days to finish a career-making
report and I was totally sick of it. A glance out the window didn’t help.
It was mid-morning on a warm sunny Spring day and the air sparkled over the
canyons of Manhattan.
I got up, stretched, and walked down the hall to the Ladies’ Room.
I looked in the mirror and liked part of what I saw. I know I have a
pretty face and my make-up and shoulder length reddish-brown hair looked
good that day. I tried not to look below the neck, but, as always, I did.
Fat! A twenty five year old, I thought, should be thin and willowy, but I
was — how should I say? — hefty, full-figured, zaftig. In other words,
fat. Everything was in proportion but there was simply too much. I had
worn a loose fitting blouse outside my skirt to try and hide my size, but,
let’s face it, I’m a big girl. Even an expensive bra designed for
reduction and containment couldn’t disguise my ample proportions.
I walked back to my office and knew that I wouldn’t get another
stitch of work done that morning. I needed to leave the building, clear my
head, and get refocused on that damned report. After I rode down the
elevator I wandered to a street nearby where I window shopped with nothing
in particular in mind.

(more…)

It was 3 A.M. and I was curled up in a 1st class window seat aboard
a 747 cruising around 36,000 feet somewhere over the Atlantic headed for
the Athens. The aisle seat was vacant. The cabin lights were turned
out, the other passengers were sleeping, the flight attendants seemed to
have disappeared, but I couldn’t sleep. I tried a book, but found
myself reading the same passage over and over again. I covered myself
with a blanket and stared out the window thinking about the
possibilities this trip to Greece had in store for me.

(more…)

My marriage was fixed when I was studying for my degree classes at Miranda House New Delhi. My father was an air force commodore. My mother was only a housewife. I was having an affair with a Panjabi guy named Preetam. He was a 7 feet tall handsome guy with a great turban and soft beard and his eyes had a gray look. He was studying for MBA and we met at a birthday party for one of my friends. He sang and danced well and was the star attraction. Somehow he noticed me and my silence attracted him as he later told me. I don’t know how we started our love, but it was very soon as if in some Mills &Boone romances. But my marriage was conducted to a boy from a business family close to my mother’s house in Kerala. They were in search of a bride for him and his horoscope was pretty bad and it was predicted that his marriage has to be conducted only with a suitable match, as there was great possibility of an early death for him. In India marriages are conducted after many consultations with astrologers who even predict the time at which the groom has to mate his bride for getting a son who would be greatest in the family. But when something bad happens after marriage the astrologers blame it on some evil planets influence which was not considered at the matching time or some miscalculations in the bride’s horoscope or the inaccuracy to deduct correct horoscope of a baby who was born after an operation. One of the greatest astrologer’s magazine in India predicted Bill Clinton’s defeat in his first election and when Bill was elected at that time, the next issue was full of letters to the editor which was dealing with how inaccurate was Bill Clinton’s horoscope etc. Some fellow wrote that Hillary’s horoscope clearly said she would become the first lady, which was not considered by the astrologer’s magazine. Some other wrote that Chelsea’ horoscope had predicted that her father would have ‘Kesariyoga’ which meant nothing but president ship. The letters to the editor were clearly matching the style of a single person and whom we can guess as the editor himself. The magazine never dared to predict any such results in future. When September 11 attacks was conducted, Nostrodamus unclear verses were deduced as fireball at New York, and soon people rushed to bookshops to buy again those predictions which never mentioned anything beyond 2001. My grand mother had my horoscope locked in her custody and when she heard about the neighboring family’s quest for a suitable bride, she gave my horoscope to them. Shit, it was selected as the perfect one to save the life of the businessman. I was not aware of any of these developments. I loved my vacations in Kerala, the south most state of India which excels in its reputation for good medical facilities, highest literacy rate and highest women population ratio. In all other parts of India, girl foetus is destroyed as soon as the sex is determined for a girl child means dowry ,marriage expenses and responsibility to the family. In the next decade, men may have to mate with men in India, if this trend continues. (more…)