Ayesha

by Cordellian

  

Chapter 4

  

By the time we reached the railway station, the train was pulling in. Emma was in a very happy mood as she told me to stand up straight and stop fidgeting. "Aren't you pleased that your girl friend is coming home?"

"Please don't do this. She's going to take one look at me dressed like this and burst out laughing. How am I going to explain myself?"

"I don't know Robert, how are you going to explain yourself?" Emma eyed me innocently. "You've had the long walk here to think of things, or did you spend the entire time worrying that someone you know might recognize you?"

I spotted Jill in the third carriage, occupying one of the middle seats. There was a queue of people trying to leave at the same time and Jill was standing up, patiently waiting for the people in front of her to get off first. My pulse rate quickened as Emma regarded me with curiosity.

"Well, my little panty slut, what are you going to do?" She stroked my ass tenderly and tweaked the fabric of the panties that I wore underneath my feminine trousers. "You know things will only get worse if you disobey me. The thing is, are you intelligent enough to understand that yet? You'll soon be in skirts and dresses full time, and maybe more…" her mouth curved into a sinister smile as she said that. "Perhaps if you beg me very nicely I may allow you to develop small girl-like breasts with sensitive little nipples." She continued to stroke my bottom and play with the confining steel of my chastity belt. I couldn't get hard, but she knew how to manipulate the tight belt to tease me into a simmering state of sexual arousal. "I'll have the nipples pierced of course. Then when you're at home I'll have you wear tiny little pink ribbons through your piercings with sexy little sissy bells that tinkle as you move." Emma suddenly pressed her index finger up into my asshole, or as far inside as my women's trousers would allow. I jumped suddenly, never having been touched like that in public before, but Emma just smiled her whimsical smile as she pushed a little deeper and wiggled that finger. She raised a curious eyebrow as she heard me whimper and observed my leg muscles tremble. "Poor sissy, he so wants the beautiful Emma Reid to penetrate him again, to use him like the little girl he is."

The thing is, it actually felt good, and dangerous, and that added to the thrill of it. If anyone glanced at us, and provided they didn't stare too long on account of the ponced up way I was dressed, they would see Emma staring straight ahead, with one hand behind my back. All perfectly innocent at first sight.

And then Jill stepped off the train with her travel bag slung over one shoulder.

"What is the sissy going to do?" whispered Emma into my ear. "Jill's going to find out eventually – why not just tell her now and get it over with? Perhaps she'll understand and let you borrow some of her underwear for when you visit me?"

That was enough – I couldn't take it any more. I turned and I ran. I didn't know where I was running to, but I just knew that I had to get away from there. No way could I face my beautiful girl friend like this. Perhaps this was what Emma wanted – perhaps this was part of her big plan, but right now I could only think of putting some distance between us before Jill looked around to find me, for I always made a point of meeting her at the station.

I ran for some time before I was out of breath and a long way away from the train station. And then I looked at my hand where a telephone number was scrawled in pen. It was Louise's number and with it came the offer of help. I couldn't risk going home. It would be the first place Jill would look for me.

I reached a phone box and with the few coins I had in my pocket I dialled the telephone number. It rang five times before a voice answered "Hello Mistress."

I swallowed hard before replying, "it's not Emma. My name's Rob Conway. We met yesterday and you gave me your number. I hope you don't mind me calling."

"Not at all." There was a pause. "You're very cute." Then a little feminine giggle. "But I didn't expect you to call quite so soon."

"Yes, well…" I paused myself for a moment. Cute? She thought I was cute? No, I don't even want to think about that. "The thing is, I've done something stupid, and I can't go home right now. I need a bit of time to get my thoughts together, and there was your number on my hand and…"

"Are you wearing panties at the moment?" Listening to that voice it was so difficult to imagine the speaker could possibly be a man in drag.

"Yes." I blushed where I stood in the phone box. "And stockings and feminine slacks and a blouse. It's Emma… she…"

"I know." The voice sounded sympathetic and soothing. "I warned you. And this is just the beginning."

"She's mad. I don't know what kind of a sick perverted kick she gets out of playing with me like this. She made me beg to wear a chastity belt!"

"That won't come off in a long time. You're going to have to get used to doing without many orgasms, Rob."

"Louise – I need help. Please help me." And then she gave me her address.

Louise lived in a small second floor flat in a purpose built block of flats. I had to ring the bell on the ground floor and then, after she buzzed me inside, I had to climb two flights of stairs before I reached the door to her apartment. She was wearing a soft peach blouse, a white skirt that came to mid thigh, stockings and a beautiful pair of feminine heeled shoes. To my dismay I thought once again how beautiful she looked.

"Come in," she whispered in a husky voice as she closed the door behind me. "I'm glad you rang me. I want to help you. It can be so difficult at first."

"First nothing, this is going to stop. I just don't know how right now."

Louise motioned me to silence with a wave of her hand. "There is just one thing though," said Louise as she regarded me. "I'm not comfortable while you're wearing trousers. It makes me feel like I'm lower than you – that you're someone special to not be forced into a dress, when in fact you're the same as me."

I scowled as Louise said this; after all I was hardly dressed in jeans and a sweat shirt. This was a blouse I was wearing and yes, they may be trousers, but any fool could see close up that they were women's trousers. "What are you saying?"

"Robert, I'm willing to let you stay the night here, and we can talk about things, but if I have to be dressed as a woman, then so must you be."

"For God's sake Louise, do you think these clothes are my first choice in the morning?"

"I'm sorry, but that's how I feel." She crossed her arms underneath that fantastic cleavage and tapped her foot on the floor.

"And what precisely do you want me to wear?"

Louise thought about this for a moment. She sucked at her lower lip and suddenly had an idea. "Perhaps it would do you good to sympathise a little with my position. Perhaps then you'll realize how lucky you are in comparison – how lightly you've been treated."

I certainly didn't feel lucky, here I was with pierced ears, locked in a chastity belt, wearing feminine undergarments and a white blouse. I folded my arms and listened to what she had to say.

Louise pointed to an outfit that hung on a wire coat hanger. It was familiar enough of course as she had worn it in the café bar yesterday. It was her cheap, humiliating waitress uniform.

"You want me to wear that? For God's sake, why?"

"Then you'll understand what Emma Reid has done to me." Louise suddenly looked so sad. Once again I found it difficult to think of him/her as having once been a man like me. The last thing I wanted to do right now was dress up as a waitress, but if it meant I had a roof over my head and a sympathetic ear for the night then how bad could it be. No one else was going to see me like that.

"Okay. If that's what you want. But only under protest."

"Thank you." Louise leaned forward and kissed me lightly on the lips. I recoiled suddenly, flinching nervously from her touch, but to my horror I felt my trapped penis twitch inside the tight confines of the chastity belt.

"I'm sorry." Louise took a step back, meekly and crossed her wrists behind her back. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"Let's get something straight, Louise. I'm not gay. I don't want to be a woman like you."

"No?" She regarded me with curiosity, her long eye lashes accentuating the girlishness of her gaze.

"No, of course not."

"Please unbutton your blouse and trousers." Louise slipped the café dress off the wire hanger and smoothed the soft satiny material over the back of a chair. "Many men secretly crave the thought of being dressed as a girl. I did before any of this happened, though I would never have admitted it."

"Well I'm different." But was I? The thought of wearing a dress was making my skin tingle with anticipation, and I could feel my breath coming harder now with the first signs of sexual arousal. Why was this happening? How could I make it stop?

As I slipped out of my clothes, Louise produced a corset which as far as I was concerned wasn't part of the plan. She hushed my protests by placing a finger against my lips, and then pulled the black lace corset around my waist. It reached from the top of my hips to just below my breasts if I had any. As Louise pulled hard at the laces I felt my waist constrict painfully. I suddenly found it harder to breathe, having to now take short sharp breaths instead of long ones. I felt a little giddy and very uncomfortable as my body was moulded into the shape made popular over 70 years ago. The effect of the breast cups was to give me a modest cleavage when my body fat was pushed up under the guidance of the undergarment. Louise slapped me on my panty-covered bottom and motioned for me to sit down.

As I tried to accustomise myself to the oppressive feeling of the corset, Louise skipped into the bathroom and emerged with a razor and a can of shaving gel. I watched with a mixture of fear and sexual arousal as her nimble fingers set about to shave my legs. By the time she was finished I was looking down at an alien set of legs. These were so smooth, so soft, so feminine looking whereas only an hour ago they were hairy and manlike. I crossed my legs and ran the palm of one hand down the left one. I never knew my legs looked like this.

"It's quite a shock at first, isn't it?" asked Louise as she placed the gel to one side. "You're lucky – you have very pretty legs." She kissed my right thigh and left a small trace of lipstick there before I could twist away. "I'm sorry – it's just that I don't get the chance to touch a woman's thigh very often."

"I'm not a woman!"

"But you're beginning to look like one. You're beginning to get an idea how good it feels to slide sheer silk over your legs. It's almost as good as sex. In many ways it is like sex."

I rose from the sofa and stumbled a few paces towards the open kitchen door. "I don't like this. I don't like any of this."

"Of course not." Louise lowered her head. "It must be awful for you." Her hand motioned towards her uniform. "Please put it on. The sight of you in your underwear makes me feel naughty. If you don't hurry up I may have to spank you." She smiled mischievously and I blushed at the thought that I might be turning her on. For a moment I imagined what it might be like to be forced to bend over, to have my panty covered bottom exposed and to be spanked by Louise. I guessed she would be the type to spank hard. I quickly forced the thought from my mind. I was a man. The last thing I wanted was to be spanked.

The waitress dress was fashioned in the style of those old French maid outfits that entered every man's fantasy at one time or another. It was black, cut from a shiny satin like material, with a slightly flared skirt and short puffed sleeves. The skirt itself was cut embarrassingly short, only inches below my panty line, and I realized then precisely how women must feel having to dress like this to satisfy the uniform requirements of such a low paid job. The material was cool against my skin and I trembled inwardly as I pulled the hem of the skirt down around my upper thighs. I tried desperately to pull it as far as I could, but the material stretched and rose up again as soon as I released the hemline.

"It is scandalously short," whispered Louise as she saw me struggle with the fastenings at the back. "Here, let me." Louise reached behind my back and I heard a few snaps of the fastenings closing.

"What did you do?" I asked, though I had a good idea.

"The Mistress had that uniform customized. Instead of the usual fastenings there are small snap locks. They're virtually impossible to undo unless you can see what you're doing. You'll need my help to take the dress off."

"Which I'll get, right?" I turned to stare directly at Louise.

"Of course. We're friends now." She cupped her hand under my skirt and felt the hard chastity belt through my lace panties. "We are girl friends now, aren't we?"

"Please, no…" I shivered as she touched me like that. Now she guided my hand under her own skirt where I could feel the same thing – a steel belt under the softest of silk. "See, we're both chastised panty sluts. You're the same as me."

"Please no…"

Louise kissed me again, softly on the lips, and I knew she tasted good. Her lips felt like a woman's; her sweetly curved body felt like a woman's should, and I in turn reacted as if she was a real woman, insofar as my bloody belt would let me. I had to remember that she was really a man – I mustn't let my body be fooled like that.

Louise now stepped back again and lifted a white apron which she draped over my head and fastened behind me with an intricate bow. Finally she pinned a white dolly cap on my head and pinned a badge with the name Louise on my right breast. "There, now you know how I feel. Now you look how I look at work."

I gazed down and saw with horror that the dress had slid up my thigh while we kissed, exposing the merest hint of my stocking tops. I quickly smoothed down the hem line again, and pulled the stockings up as high as they would go.

"You'll be doing that a lot during the day. That dress really rides up while you walk. It's horrible and so very degrading." Louise found a pair of high heeled Mary Jane shoes and slid them onto my feet one at a time. Now I felt like I was standing on tip toe. The shoes made my calves arch and I knew that walking was now going to be difficult, while running was almost impossible.

"I feel so feminine like this…" It was true. I hardly dared move for fear of my skirt rising up along my thighs. The slightest movement made the dress fabric rustle and the silk undergarments cling to my skin.

"I know. And you should see the way men look at you when you're dressed like that. The dress is meant to be worn with tights. Then it's just a short skirt, but with stockings you're constantly exposing the stocking tops."

"And she makes you wear stockings?" I asked Louise.

She nodded. "And you." Louise pointed at my stocking clad legs. "You'll soon be like me."

"No I won't!" I was angry, but any anger I felt was diluted by the sensual touch of the soft satin material against my skin. I felt myself spiralling further out of control.

"Please remember it's not wise to anger our Mistress." Louise paused to lay out a selection of cosmetics and makeup. "You look very pretty from the neck down. Let's complete the picture."

"You're going to put make up on me?"

Louise nodded again. "Of course. Pretty make up to make you look beautiful. You do want to look beautiful, don't you? What girl wouldn't want to look beautiful?"

"I'm not a girl!" Louise ignored my outburst and set to work with the foundation brush. Over the years she had grown very adept with the make up kit and now she moved quickly, applying the cosmetics with an experienced hand.

"It's not so bad being a girl once you get used to it. The worst part though is not being able to have sex when you want."

"The belt?" I asked.

"The belt." She nodded in agreement. "Sometimes I feel so horny I would do anything to lose the belt, just for ten minutes. In time you'll see what I mean when the denial seems to extend forever. When you've gone a month without an orgasm the Mistress will have you eating out of her hand. You'll trade anything for the freedom of a few minutes of masturbation."

"I've got a girl friend."

"Oh dear."

"What do you mean oh dear?"

"I suppose Emma didn't tell you about Miranda."

"Who's Miranda?"

"The girl I cheated on Emma with. Her revenge wasn't simply restricted to me, Rob. What she did to poor Miranda was even worse."

I sat down on the sofa and listened with a growing sense of unease to this latest tale of Emma Reid's power.

"Miranda had never met Emma Reid. Three months after my transformation began, Emma worked her way into Miranda's life. They became friends and went clubbing together. Of course I knew nothing about this at the time. I was slowly being feminised, hidden away from the outside world." Louise crossed her shapely legs and I tried not to be distracted by the sound of bare nylon sliding over bare nylon. It was such an exotic, erotic sound and I responded to it like any man would. "Emma swiftly introduced Miranda to a 'friend' by the name of Caesar. Caesar was a player – he knew people, he had money and was able to get the girls into the best clubs in town. On top of that he always had a plentiful supply of cocaine. Miranda wasn't sure about the coke at first, but Emma persuaded her to try it. Within a few weeks Miranda was doing a lot of coke and she assumed Emma was too. In reality Emma was faking – drugs have never been her scene, but she made sure that Caesar was always around to offer more of the nose powder."

Louise put down the foundation brush and began to apply some eye shadow and mascara to my eyes. I had to admit it felt exciting to be sat there in similar underwear to Louise, feeling the shiny material of her white slip brushing against mine as she leaned forward to paint my face. Secretly I wanted to touch her, to feel the softness of her skin against my hand but I fought hard against the feelings. I suddenly realised I as subconsciously moving my body against hers, and I forced myself to stop. God, but she looked sexy, and smelled so very good.

"One day Caesar stopped going to the clubs and the girls had to visit his apartment to score more coke. Emma accompanied Miranda to begin with until she felt confident enough to go on her own. There was never any mention of money – Caesar just seemed happy to hand out free drugs on request."

"That must have been expensive." I swallowed hard. The touch of Louise's hand was doing things to me that made me acutely uncomfortable.

"Yes. Then one day Miranda lost her job. There were cut backs where she worked and her name was on the redundancy list. Caesar leant her some money to tide her over. By now Miranda was spending quite heavily on the kind of designer lifestyle that accompanies coke and her credit cards had taken a battering. The strange thing was Miranda found it impossible to get another job. Most of the time she didn't even get to the interview stage. This had never happened to her before, but all of a sudden no one would hire her. She slipped further and further into debt, encouraged by Emma's party life. It wasn't much longer until the jaws of Emma's trap snapped shut. Miranda woke up at three in the morning to find a distressed and dishevelled looking Emma Reid on her doorstep. Emma's jacket was ripped, her hair was in a mess, she had been crying and she wore a pair of dark glasses to disguise what seemed to be a black eye. Miranda made some black coffee and listened to Emma's tale. Caesar had been around. They were both heavily in debt to him and now he wanted his money, with interest. All that coke had been on credit and of course there was also the matter of the loan to help Miranda out. Miranda was hysterical – what debts? She would never have taken the coke if Emma had told her it was on credit. She insisted this was Emma's problem, and nothing to do with her, but Emma assured her that Caesar held them both jointly responsible. She hinted at what Caesar had done to her as a warning and she explained tearfully that Caesar was a gangster who knew some very scary men. Emma must have acted the part of a terrified best friend very well. The black eye was makeup of course. She scared Miranda to within an inch of her life. They had to deal with this situation now. Their only hope was to sort out some kind of compromise with Caesar before some East End thugs paid a visit.

"Emma took Miranda to see Caesar. He was in a foul mood, throwing things around his Thames facing apartment, swearing at the girls and screaming 'where's my fucking money, you cock-sucking whores!' There was a machete on the glass coffee table and a set of brass knuckles beside it.

"Miranda was in no state to talk, which was just as well since Emma and Caesar had already rehearsed this scene in advance. Caesar told them that if they couldn't pay up they would have to generate some money for him. It turned out that he was part owner of a lap dancing club. Miranda and Emma would dance on the tables in the evenings until they paid off what they owed. There was no way Miranda wanted to dance in a strip club, but the alternative was having her nose cut off or worse. Even with the threats, Miranda might have gone to the police had Emma not been there to act the part of the terrified best friend. Emma pleaded with Miranda that this was the only way out for both of them.

"For the next few nights the girls were taught the basics of lap dancing in Caesar's apartment. He had them strip to their panties and perform for him. I imagine Emma wasn't too keen on this part of the plan, but she had to appear to be in trouble too otherwise Miranda might have bolted. When the first night of work came, Miranda arrived at the strip club to find no sign of her friend, just a furious Caesar. He slapped her around a bit and screamed that Emma had run away. As far as he as concerned Miranda now owned the entire debt as he was going to put a bullet through Emma's head when he found her, which he would. He showed Miranda a gun and slapped her around some more. She was now too terrified to do anything but dance in that basement bar. Most of the customers were cheap gangsters. The dressing room was a cold concrete room, with used condoms on the floor. Miranda worked hard in the strip club for several weeks. The conditions grew worse and she lived in fear of the men who owned the place. She was too scared and in too deep to run. Eventually, when Miranda had grown used to dancing naked in front of men, Caesar sold her debt to an Irish gangster who ran a slave brothel. It was mostly full of young Russian and Balkan refugee women who had expected to find a new home in England. Miranda had to be tied up and gagged when she was taken there. When not in use she was chained by the ankle to a bolt in the floor of the basement where the girls all slept on wooden cots. She hasn't seen daylight since she moved in there. Emma took me to the brothel to see Miranda two months ago. Miranda didn't recognize me, and I barely recognized the sad wretched girl in heavy make up and cheap lingerie who sat on a chair in the reception room, waiting for a client to take her upstairs. That's what Emma Reid is capable of."

"That's horrible. How does she know people like that?"

"I don't know, but she does."

"And I don't understand why it was so difficult for Miranda to find a new job?"

"Emma cast a spell to ensure Miranda lost her first job and couldn't get another one. She told me about the spell after she cast it."

"You don't honestly believe that?"

"How else do you explain the countless rejections for even the most menial of jobs?"

"There's no such thing as magic!"

"Tell that to Ayesha – she who must be obeyed."

"This is crazy."

"If you say so, Robert. But you're missing the point again."

"Which is?"

"Your girl friend. She may not know it – you may not know it, but she will be part of Emma Reid's game as well. I know the Mistress well enough to understand that her plans for you also include her. That's the way she plans things."

My concentration was suddenly broken and distracted by the sound of a car drawing up and parking outside, followed by the electronic beeps of a door lock being engaged. Louise suddenly stiffened in panic, recognizing that sound all too well.

"What is it?" I asked urgently, my skirt rustling around me as I looked round.

"The Mistress. That's the sound of her car. She isn't due for another hour at least!"

"What?" I jumped off the sofa in panic and nearly tripped over in my new heels. "You didn't tell me Emma Reid was coming here!"

"Not for another hour…" Louise placed her hands to her face in fear.

"I can't let her see me like this! I'm wearing make up and dressed like a French Maid!" I reached behind me and tried to find the tiny fastenings to the black satin dress, but not being familiar with the layout of the garment, and being in a state of heightened panic, I was wasting my time. "Get me out of this thing! Get me my clothes!"

"There's no time…" Louise backed away to the wall, her small hands pressed against the wallpaper as she chewed her pretty lower lip, deep in thought. "Oh, I'm so sorry – this is all my fault."

I could hear footsteps coming up the stair well now. Of course it made sense that Emma Frost owned a set of keys to both the building door and probably the flat door. She wouldn't need to ring the door bell, she could simply let herself in. "Louise! I've got to hide!"

Louise nodded and pointed to the sliding glass doors to the outside balcony. "Go out there, I'll draw the curtains so she won't see you."

"Outside? Dressed like this? Are you out of your mind?"

"The balcony is a fire escape that looks out onto a courtyard space shared by the backs of other buildings. No one's going to be down there to look up and see you. Quick – we haven't much time."

I was about to protest further but then I heard a sound that sent ice through my veins. There was the sound of a key being placed in a lock, but that wasn't the sound that almost made me wet myself. No it was the sound of two women talking. One of the women was Emma. The other was my girlfriend, Jill Clifton. Needless to say I was through the sliding doors as quickly as my high heels permitted, which was quicker than safety allowed. I slipped and fell on the fire escape, landing flat on my pantied ass, my waitress skirt riding up in the process and exposing my stocking tops again. Behind me, Louise closed the sliding doors with a click and drew the satin curtain across the glass. I heard the women enter the living room and Louise say "Hello Mistress."

Then I heard Jill, my girlfriend exclaim "Oh my God, you were serious then! I really didn't believe you."

"Very serious, Jill," replied Emma from inside. "This is Louise. Show Jill your nicest curtsie dear."

As Louise no doubt curtsied to the best of her well trained ability, I lifted myself up, using the rail of the fire escape as support. It was a very old fire escape – the kind that has an extendable ladder so that people in the building can climb down but burglars can't access it to climb up and break in.

"This is just so weird," continued Jill as I tried to stand up in my heels. "I mean, she doesn't look like a man."

"Nor will my new sissy when I'm finished with him," added Emma. That made me jump, and that proved to be a big mistake as the rail that I was holding on to broke in my hand. One end of it had rusted away over the years and split from its joint as I pressed my full weight on it. Suddenly I found myself falling backwards with nothing to grip on to. I screamed – which in itself only made things worse – and landed flat on my back on a pile of old cardboard boxes. For a few seconds I lay there, stunned, not knowing whether I was alive or dead. My body felt sore all over but nothing seemed to be broken. The fire escape stared down at me from the second floor; a bent rail dangled down, loose now to just a single bolt fitting.

Once again my skirt was up around my waist, my apron was out of place and my stocking clad legs had parted to reveal my silk panties. Somehow the white dolly cap had remained in place. But now there was some motion on the second floor. My scream had evidently carried through the glass sliding doors into the flat and Emma Reid was keen to investigate the source of the sound. The doors began to open. That was enough to get me back onto my feet. I was kneeling on a pile of flattened boxes in a narrow courtyard with only one exit – a long alleyway lined with dustbins and no doors. I ran, tripping twice, down the alleyway, just before Emma Reid and Jill Clifton emerged onto the fire escape to inspect the broken rail and look down into the space below. I confess I was crying as I emerged from the other end of the alleyway into a main street with cars passing by. My situation couldn't possibly be any worse. Here I was dressed as a French Maid, without any money, without the keys to my lodgings, outside and exposed. My only saving grace was the professional make up job which spared me looking like a man in drag. But what was I going to do? Where could I go dressed like this? I pulled down the hem line of my dress as far as it would go, and cursed my run of stupidity and bad luck that had made things turn from bad to worse every single time. Because of course Emma Reid would be putting two and two together right about now, if she hadn't already done so, or failing that Louise would tell her. I couldn't imagine pussy-whipped, panty-slut Louise holding anything back under interrogation, which meant that Emma would be down those stairs in no time hoping to catch me out here. And she would have Jill in tow. Two things were certain – she'd want to punish me for running out on her like that, and she would want to punish me by having Jill catch me by accident. It wouldn't be her style to simply come out and tell Jill in advance.

I had to keep moving. I couldn't stay here. But where could I go? I hobbled down the road, my eyes wide with fear, my hands continuing to tug the hemline of my skirt to some semblance of decency. I kept my head down, afraid to meet the gaze of other people as I walked down the pavement. But even without looking at them I could tell that my French Maid uniform was attracting a great deal of attention. Men stared in much the same way I would have stared if an attractive woman walked by dressed like that, whilst women glared at me with a mixture of annoyance that I was flaunting my sexuality so openly by being dressed like that, and secret envy that they weren't attracting the same level of attention. I'm sure one woman hissed the word "tart" under her breath as she passed me by.

I tried to walk like a woman, because the last thing I wanted was for anyone to guess that I was actually a man. But things were about to get worse. I had walked a few hundred yards when a car horn sounded behind me. I ignored it, but then the car slowed down beside me and the passenger door opened.

"Louise!" It was a male voice, but just a little camp sounding as if the person was gay. "Louise – why aren't you at work yet?" There was a slight pause and then he said, "Wait a minute – you're not Louise… who are you? What are you doing wearing her uniform, young lady?" He was out of the car now. There was no question of me running in these heels – all I could do was turn round and press my face against the side of the wall, hoping to God he'd leave me alone. Of course he did nothing of the kind. Strong hands gripped my satin-soft shoulders and turned me around. It was the owner of the café in which Emma had first shown me Louise waiting at the tables. "Well? Who are you? That uniform belongs to my café. What are you doing wearing it? And where is Louise?" He was an inch taller than me, good looking, but in an obviously gay way, with well cut short hair, a sun bed tan, well manicured finger nails, wearing a pair of tight blue jeans and a crisp white t-shirt. I recalled Emma mentioning that his name was Rafe, probably short for Rafael.

"I… I…" in fumbling for words I tried to pitch my voice softer, like women do. Thankfully I've always been good at impressions and I can mimic most people. At a push I can do women as well. "I'm Jill… a friend of Louise's." It was the first thing and the first name I could think of. That it happened to be the name of my girl friend was probably no coincidence.

"Where is Louise? She should be at work by now. I was on my way to call on her." Then realization dawned on him, or rather he jumped to a conclusion that was forgivable under the circumstances. "Are you standing in for Louise? Is she ill?"

Well, I didn't know what to say. On the one hand the longer I stayed in this street, the worse the chance was that Emma and Jill might find me. And this man wasn't going to let me go wearing his company uniform without an explanation, and I did desperately need to get off this street and indoors somewhere. So I simply nodded my head and blushed. "Yes, that's right. Louise asked me to work her shift for her."

"Well then," he smiled benignly. "Hop into the car and I'll give you a lift to work." And then I swear he actually patted me on my short skirted ass!

  

  

  

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