Jasmine in the Evening

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Four fashionable women are traveling in Florida when for absolutely no reason they are pulled over by a state trooper. What he discovers about the women leaves him dazed and confused.

Submitted: November 30, 2011

A A A | A A A

Submitted: November 30, 2011



The car heading down Highway 40 between Jacksonville and Tallahassee was traveling more slowly than most.  Inside there were four well dressed women.  There was no reason at all that they should be pulled over, but they were. The evening was just verging on night and the sky still held the remainder of a typical Florida sunset, pink etched clouds spread lightly over a darkening midnight blue background.  It was spectacular but the passengers of the car were too engrossed in argument to notice.  The Florida State Trooper car was and had been following them at a discreet distance. The officer thought that he had never seen a more brake happy driver, the red rear lights blinked off and on like Christmas lights not exactly with a rhythm but constant enough to indicate either a nervous driver or just a bad one.  When the red and blue police lights began to flash on the trooper’s car and the siren whooped a few times the brake lights on the car ahead became a constant.  It slowly moved to the side of the highway and the trooper followed parking slightly behind the now stopped vehicle.  The trooper put on his high peaked wide brimmed hat and stepped out of his car.  He confidently approached the passenger car and tapped on the driver’s window.  It went down slowly and a bleached blonde head looked out at him.  The driver batted her eyes and smiled,  “Hello officer.”

The cop didn’t miss a beat.  He assumed his sternest face and said, “Good evening ma’am.  License, registration, and insurance card please.” He heard a slight titter from the back seat and shone his light in that direction.  For a moment he couldn’t quite comprehend what he saw.  There were two people dressed to the nines and looking as though they were going to or had just come from a beach party.  They were all wearing semi-short string halter sundresses, Jackie O sunglasses, and strappy medium heeled sandals.  They topped off their outfits with wide brimmed garden hats. The only unsettling thing about their appearances was the fact that each was sporting a  five o’clock shadow and double D breasts. 

The officer stared unable to comprehend what he was seeing.  Suddenly a voice from the front passenger seat piped up asking politely, “Officer; have we done something wrong?”  He turned his light toward the voice and to his relief saw a feminine woman dressed as well as the two in the back seat but without the confusing slight facial beard growth. 

“No ma’am” he said with less confidence but a tad more warmth,  “I noticed that you all were traveling significantly slower than traffic usually does on this road.

The fashionable woman chuckled.  “Why officer do you mean that if we had been going slightly FASTER than is normal, you wouldn’t have bothered pulling us over?”

The trooper ducked his head slightly as if embarrassed.  “Well no ma’am, but you were going much slower than we usually see.  I thought that you might be having some sort of problem.”

The woman smiled.  “ Well let’s ask the driver.”  She looked over to the driver’s side of the seat and then poked the occupant.

“ So Stella, were you having a problem?” 

The driver scowled.  “ Shut up Tracy.’’ She barked and the trooper almost dropped his flashlight at the voice.  It was a gruff, deep long shore man’s voice.  “I’m not in the mood for your crap!”  

The trooper looked more closely at the driver.  She was a bit thicker than the other passengers and had the same five o’clock shadow that graced the faces of the backseat occupants. 

The trooper was slightly slack-jawed at the tableau that he was beholding.  The front seat passenger smiled slightly and dimpled.  “Officer?’ The cop shook his head slightly as if to clear his thoughts or his vision.

“Yes uh…ma’am?” He was fairly sure that ma’am was the right pronound at least for this person.

Tracey dimpled again, “You were saying that because our car was traveling unusually slowly that you thought we might need assistance.”

“Uh yes.”  The trooper looked dazed and then recovered himself.  “Do you uh…ladies need help?”

Stella snorted in a most unladylike way.  “Yeah buddy, we need help, especially Bernice.”

The back seat passenger swatted at Stella’s head from behind.  “I do not need assistance.”  Stella snorted again.  “That’s what you think.  You should check a mirror.”

Bernice rooted in her purse and brought out a compact.  Opening it she looked in the mirror and said to the trooper.  “Honey could you shine that flashlight of yours this way……..please?”  The trooper shone his light at her face.  She shrieked.  “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!!!!!!!”

Stella smiled smugly.  “Pretty aren’t you?”

“Shut up Stella”  Bernice closed the compact and announced,  “We have to find a motel.”

The other back seat occupant broke her silence.  “Are you crazy Bernice?  We are in the middle of fucking nowhere and are about to be arrested.” Tracy turned from the front and said, “What makes you think we are going to jail?”  she inquired.

Stella decided to answer for Bernice.  “Because my dear Tracy we are sitting in a car in, as Monique just pointed out, the middle of fucking nowhere.  A policeman has pulled us over and although he has not yet stated why, I suspect it is because we have confused him in the extreme.” 

Tracy waved her impeccably manicured hand.  “Minor facts my dear Stella.”

Stella frowned.  “Oh have I mentioned that we are four women three of whom sport the beginnings of beard growth.” 

In the back seat Bernice groaned.  “I need to get to a motel!”  She stated.

Monique looked puzzled.  “Why a motel?”

Tracy and Stella answered in unison.  “Because they have bathrooms.”

Monique dismissed this with a shrug.  “So do truck stops.”

Stella turned and graced Monique with a glare. “ Good idea Monique.  We will just chug on up the road to the first truck stop, go into the ladies room and unpack our toiletry bags.” 

Tracy raised a finger.  “ Stella has a point.  We can hardly go into a ladies room only to have you three break out your shaving kits and lather your faces.”

In the back Bernice continued to moan.  Stella put both hands on the steering wheel and turned partly around.  “Bernice will you please stop the hysterics? We are in deep shit here!’  She swiveled back around and faced the trooper.  “Aren’t we?’  She addressed him.

The trooper still looked dazed.  “Well ah…ma’am…. I mean uh…….” 


The cop looked confused.  “What?”

My name is Stella, you may call me that …….or Jasmine.”  The other three passengers groaned.  Monique slapped her hand to her forehead.  “Not now Stella.”  She intoned  “Not the right time.”

Tracy put a gentle hand on Stella’s slightly thick forearm.  “Monique is right, there are better venues in which to tell your story.”

“Like a motel.”  Bernice said hopefully.

The other three occupants of the car said in unison, “Bernice shut up.”

Bernice hunched down in her seat.  “I’m just saying…”

“Officer?”  Tracey leaned toward the passenger side front window.  “Are we being detained for any reason?”

The trooper blinked.  “Well ma’am, I stopped you to see if you needed any assistance and……………I guess you don’t.”

“So we are free to go?”

The trooper nodded.  “Yes ma’am, I guess so.” He straightened up and turned toward his police cruiser and then abruptly bent to the car window.  “Oh just one thing…….”

The car’s passengers tensed waiting for the inevitable.

“Would you please try to drive a little closer to the posted speed limit?  He said.

Everyone in the car answered “yes officer……of course we will……sorry we were lollygagging…”

With that he was gone, back in his police car and waiting for them to pull out onto the highway which they did. 

For the first two miles the interior of the car was quiet.  Tracy broke it by heaving a huge sigh of relief.  “You three are just incredible.” 

“What?”  Bernice asked innocently.

Tracy turned to look at her.  “ ‘I NEED A MOTEL’.  Christ Bernice why didn’t you just invite him to join us?” 

Stella laughed.  “That would have been rich…….us taking a Florida State Trooper with us to a motel.  Bernice you would have been shaving in a jail cell tonight.”

“Thank you …….JASMINE”

“Yeah, why did you tell him to call you Jasmine, Stella?” Monique was upset.  “The situation was confusing enough to him without adding another angle.”

“It is the name I prefer.”  Stella said haughtily.

Monique laughed.  “It’s  your drag queen name for christ’s sake”  she stated flatly.

“Yes”  Stella nodded.  “It is my stage name.  Just like Norma Jean Baker’s stage name was Marilyn.  We have the same breasts.”

“But she didn’t have a dick.”  Monique stated.

“Well neither would I if I had the money to get rid of it.”  Everyone except Tracy cringed involuntarily.  Monique grimaced.  “I wouldn’t get rid of mine, too painful. “And I wouldn’t be eligible to do drag anymore.”  Bernice nodded.  “Right”  she said mournfully.  “Tracy you are the only one of us who had surgery, wasn’t it painful?”

Tracy shrugged “Minimal.” 

“Oh come on!” Monique wasn’t buying it.

Tracy turned to look at her.  “It wasn’t overly painful.  Not compared to having gone through 50 years with an appendage that I didn’t want.  Now that was painful.”

She sat up slightly and said “My turn for truth or dare.  Why do you all have boobs the size of Texas?  I mean wouldn’t a C cup be adequate?” 

Monique giggled. “My mother always said if you’re going to do something don’t do it halfway.” 

Bernice nodded  “Exactly, I figured that if I was undergoing the knife I might as well bet the house.” 

Stella laughed,  “So you got a full house, aces high.”

Monique leaned forward and addressed Tracy  “So tell me girlfriend, why did you decide to go au natural in the boob department?”

Tracy shrugged,  “I hate under wire bras.”

“Well you’re lucky the hormones gave you a decent B cup, I just wanted to look like a real woman.”

“And I don’t?” 

Oh you do, you do……………… a real woman with the chest of a teenage girl.”

Tracy rolled her eyes,  “Like I haven’t heard that one before. I just don’t want to have a load of silicone in my body.”

Monique poked her head over the back of the front seat,  “I say ‘bring it on’.  I love my double Ds. 

Stella snorted, “Do you love resembling Chesty Morgan?”

“Who?” Bernice was still gently touching her face and a step behind in the conversation.

“Chesty Morgan….porn star with really big bazooms.”

“Oh god…who would want to be known as Chesty?”

“A woman with really big jugs.”  Tracy waved a hand.  “Let’s change the topic.”

“To what?” 

“To why three trans women with Double D breasts and one trans woman without double Ds are roaming the wilds of Florida on a Friday night.”


“Waiting for our mani-pedis to dry?”

“Looking for a motel?”  Bernice chimed in hopefully.

“Wrong on all counts.”  Tracy turned slightly to include Bernice and Monique in the conversation.  “We are on a mission.”

“A mission?  Tracey are you out of your mind?”

Tracy batted her eyes innocently.  “Why?”

“Because I know you.”  Stella was not buying the act.  “You are going to have us stop at some roadside dump and ingratiate ourselves with the patrons.”

“Why Stella honey, I had no idea that you could read minds.”

“I know you Tracy, you think that you can win anyone over, policemen, Salvation Army people, shoe store clerks, landlords, etc.  Well I for one am not up to participating in another social experiment like the one you pulled at the gym.”

Why Stella honey, what do you mean?”

“Don’t act like you don’t have a clue.  I am talking about the time I went to your fitness club to swim.  I swam, you engaged in a conversation with a straight woman about how you weathered the birth of your daughter.”


“So when she asked you whether your Caesarian scars were very noticeable and you offered to give her a glimpse, I thought we were toast.”

“Tracy!!  Bernice and Monique gasped.

“Oh Stella, how you do go on.  The whole thing was very innocent.  We were in the whirlpool, wearing bathing suits of course, when this woman climbed in.  She mentioned her children right off the bat so I quite naturally told her about my daughter.  That is what led to the conversation about natural child birth vs. Caesarian.  When she said ‘Is the scar very large?’  I felt obliged to give her a peek.  That’s all.” 

“Tracy, the scars on your groin area DO NOT LOOK LIKE ones from a Caesarian.”

“Well, she had her kid by natural child birth, she probable wouldn’t know one scar from another.”

“Like hell she wouldn’t.” Stella shifted in her seat.  “The scars from having your dick cut off aren’t even in the right area for a birthing.”

“In any event the woman’s cell phone rang and Stella and I made an impromptu exit from the whirlpool.”

Monique and Bernice chuckled.  They were used to Tracy pushing the envelope.

Stella glanced at Tracy.  “Why do you?” she said.


Test the limits of what people see.”

Tracy hunched in her seat,  “I was born that way.”

“Thank you Lady Gaga.”

“No, I mean that I am a woman, I have been since before I was born and I want other people to know that.”

Bernice leaned forward.  “Isn’t that what we all want?”  she asked plaintively.

Stella shrugged.  “ I gave up hoping for that twenty years ago.  Doesn’t mean that I see myself as male, just means I realize that what other people see or think they see is not something I can control.”

“In other words you don’t give a fuck?”  Monique wasn’t buying it.

“No, I don’t.

“So if Bernice there thinks she looks just like Sharon fucking Stone that’s all that matters?”

“In a word, yes.”

“Bullshit!”  Monique dismissed this transcendental hooey. “I think that we all have to accept that while yes we were handed out the wrong body at birth it can be aligned with who we are.  It just needs a few tweaks.  How we accomplish the alignment is a matter of choice and taste.  Something you could work on ‘Jasmine.” 

Stella was miffed.  “You mean what, the way I dress, the way I walk, the fact that I don’t have electrolysis?’

“Yes to all of the above.”

“Well excuse me for rising above looks and concentrating on who I am.”

“That could use some work too.”

“Fuck you Monique or should I say Frank?”

“That is no longer my name.”

“Tell that to the state of Florida.”

Monique sniffed.  “I can’t help the fact that this state elects boneheaded politicians who don’t know squat about gender issues.”

Tracy looked sad.  “They don’t want to know.”

“Right”  Stella nodded.  “ Sometimes you can’t change how people perceive things.  That is why I took the stage name ‘Jasmine.”

Bernice was curious.  “Tell us.”  She implored.

Tracy nodded.  “Yes, it is a nice story.”

Stella glanced briefly at Tracy.  “I was 9 and dreading everything…….school, social events, and most of all puberty.”

The other women nodded, they had all been there.

“I knew that my voice would change and I would still not be allowed to wear the beautiful dresses that I saw in the department store windows.  I think my mother was dreading it too.  I came home from school one day crying.  She asked what was wrong.  Had someone been unkind to me?  Was I physically hurt?”

I told her yes both.  She urged me to tell her.  I said that a little girl in my class had asked me whether I was really a boy. And why did I wear my mother’s earrings? I said no that I was a girl.  She laughed and told everyone on the playground.  They all refused to play with me after that.”

Bernice and Monique sighed empathetically.  Stella went on.  “My mother was very good to me even though she didn’t understand why I thought I was a girl. 


She hugged me and after awhile said  ‘let’s have some  dinner,  after that if you would like to wear my earrings around the house you can.’ I cried even harder.  From then on my mother let me dress like a girl as long as I was inside the house.  Sometimes she even told me that I was a very pretty little girl and bought me a dress that I desperately wanted.  One evening when I was wearing the dress and her earrings she looked at me and said ‘Let’s give you a secret name, one that just you and I will know. What name would you like to have?’”  I promptly said ‘Jasmine’.  My mother laughed and asked me why.  I shyly told her that my favorite time in the day was evening when the torture of going to school and being teased was over and I was at home wearing my favorite clothes.  And, I said, evening was when the scent of the Jasmine blossoms was wafting on the air. It all just seemed peaceful and perfect. She told me that it was a lovely name and from now on it would be our secret.”

The car was silent for many moments.  Tracy finally spoke.

“I think we’d better speed it up a little so step on it………” 

Then in a gentle tone she said, “Jasmine.”
























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