The Firebird

by: Mardee Louise Prynne

 

The mid fifties. I was in college in New York City and living on my own in downtown Brooklyn. After all, who could afford Brooklyn Heights? My admittedly mediocre musical ability was enough to keep me living on my own. I had a few on and off gigs with some dance combos and managed to put in enough hours as a lounge pianist in dives to cover expenses with some money left over for greater comforts like good beer and better whisky. So it was that I answered an ad in the Eagle for a pianist to play at a dance school.

My tape had been reviewed. I was now "auditioning" for the woman who ran the school. She was an elegant lady of perhaps fifty. Her body was full in the European dancer tradition; certainly no Balanchine sylph this one. I played as she went through some barre exercises. Keeping a strong and steady beat at first, I later took my tempo from her movement. Not as easy at is seems because I was very aroused by her muscular thighs as she languidly stretched revealing the black crotch of her taut leotard in sharp contrast to her white tights. Floor exercises were next.

The audition ended with no clear feeling whether I had been hired or not.

The photographs in the waiting area were typical of what one might expect in a ballet school. The director in her roles in Europe. Programs showing her featured in some of the better European companies. Some large and important looking certificates in Russian with the Czar’s double headed eagle seal on them caught my eye. Impressive although I couldn’t read them. Even more impressive was an autographed picture of Stravinsky next to one of Diaghelev. Of course there were the usual group photographs of classes and individual photographs of pupils who had gotten into various dance companies.

My attention became riveted to a framed composite of a slender but curvaceous dancer in typical poses. In the center was a head shot. She was the most incredibly beautiful girl I could conceive of. High Slavic cheek bones set off the almond shaped eyes so often seen in ethnic Russian woman. I noticed a framed photograph of her in Madame Ollia’s glass enclosed office. Her daughter or niece; had to be.

On leaving the office I almost collided with the angelic girl in the photograph. A navy blue blazer over a powder blue blouse and a gray a-line skirt. A briefcase hung from her shoulder. She gave me a smile that could as easily have been a sneer.

There was a gap in my consciousness between making eye contact with that goddess and letting myself into my apartment a few blocks away. I put a recording of Stravinsky’s "The Firebird" on the record player. I sat back fantasizing how Madame Ollia would look in that role; so lovely, the source of so much beauty as was the firebird of legend.

The phone jarred me back to reality. A young female voice with a hint of an accent asked for me. "Yes. My aunt would like you to start at the studio this Saturday."

"Please tell Madame Ollia that I am honored to accept her most generous offer."

Bingo! Absolute elation at the thought of entering Madame Ollia’s world!

 

I stopped at Madame Ollia’s the following morning. Her dance school offered classes for all ages so that I could have as many hours as my schedule allowed. She also did individual coaching sessions at which, she suggested, I would likely prove invaluable. Quite flattered at the praise I was getting from this worldly lady, I relaxed as we sipped tea from glasses.

Madame moved from behind her desk to a more comfortable Queen Anne chair facing me. She was most elegantly dressed in a flowing skirt that was not so long that it did not reveal her shapely dancer’s calves. Madame crossed her legs, pulling her skirt to allow freedom of movement. Her skirt slid halfway up her thighs. I couldn’t keep my eyes from the dark welting of her off black stockings. She recrossed her legs allowing me a glimpse of her pale thighs and the black garter strap that pulled the stockings ever so taught. The barest hint of a smile crossed her lips as she noticed her immodesty but she made no attempt to adjust her skirt.

My gaze shifted to the picture of the creature I had begun to think of as the firebird. Yet the picture was old, the background and costumes were of an earlier time. Madame followed my gaze to the picture. "Lovely, no?"

"Most lovely, yes," I answered.

"Me... when I first arrived in Paris. I know... Very much like Stasia in the pictures that caught your eye. My sister’s child. But that is not for now.

"After the Bolshevik Revolution was civil war. I had to leave. I made my way to Paris where I acquired a reputation as a dancer and as a courtesan. I was very desirable for both talents. Not even eighteen!" A touch of irony. She recrossed her legs revealing a glimpse of white panties.

"Does my rambling bore you? Perhaps I shock you. There are few I would share these stories with. But you, Matt...very talented and sensitive young man. You improvise from your soul; play Ravel, Debussy from your being. You will understand us. Your face tells me you have Russian blood. Not all Russian...but enough to matter."

"Madame Ollia you are elegant, even regal beyond belief. You bring Imperial Russia with you where ever you go." It earned me a warm smile from Madame Ollia.

She extended her extended her foot and drew her skirt down. "Please call me Ollia. You will be as family." She rose to refill the tea glasses.

"You find me simply regal. Am I attractive to you... attractive as a woman.?"

She had to be playing head games with me!

"You are the most beautiful, most graceful woman I’ve ever seen."

She sat down on the couch along the wall. She leaned back and placed her foot across my lap. "Kiss it." Her shoe fell to the floor.

I lifted her foot in both my hands. This may get me fired before I start, I reasoned. Then again, it’ll be a trip! I nuzzled the arch, kissed each toe. She put her other foot on my shoulder as I sank to my knees as I kissed her calf. Her leg flexed upward as only a dancer’s could. I kissed the back of her knee. Her hands cupped my face and guided my mouth along her inner thighs. Soon I was kissing the soft skin above her stocking tops.

Her panty crotch was dark with her love juices. She pulled her panty crotch aside as she locked her thighs around my face. I flicked my tongue over her hard clit. My lips covered it as she moaned and squirmed. I ate her as I had never eaten any girl. But she was no college girl; this was a woman of the world and I was satisfying her! She whimpered as she writhed, drenching my face with her cum.

I found my self suddenly on my back as Ollia straddled me. Some how I was nude. Ollia’s breath teased my body as she squeezed my balls. Her tongue swirled around the rim of my cockhead. She licked the bottom of my shaft from base to tip before she engulfed my cockhead. Intense vibrations shot through my very being as an intense, long orgasm enveloped me. I exploded into Ollia’s mouth.

I lay panting on the floor as Ollia stood over me adjusting her panties, in itself a sensuous act. She hooked her thumbs in the waist band and pulled the silken fabric slightly down. She caressed it smoothly over her full mound. As she stepped away from me she hooked her thumbs into the hem at the leg openings and snapped them down over her cheeks in a classical gesture that was as unaffected as it was arousing.

"Yes Matt. You’re a most sensitive and talented man."

 

A few minutes later a maid appeared and cleared way the tea things. My face betrayed my dismay at the sudden appearance of the dark woman in a maid’s day uniform.

Ollia took my hand and led me into her inner office. A window looked out onto the courtyard between this building and the large brownstone on the next street. A covered walkway connected the backs of the two buildings. "My home."

I was impressed. Live in help. This lady is doing well.

"Matt," Ollia spoke firmly as she looked out the window. "There is room for you here. Come."

We went up to the next floor of the building which housed a private studio that seemed to fitted out as a gym in addition to a dance studio. Weights on racks, a heavy bag, an exercise bench and a mat gave the impression that serious workouts happen here.

A small but very comfortable apartment filled the next floor. The living room was complete with a baby grand piano. Off the living room was the bedroom with a study area. The bathroom had a stall shower, a tub that could float a destroyer and, catch this, a bidet!

"It is your apartment. Rent is part of your salary but off the books...And I will allow you as much privacy as you want. Don’t concern yourself. I’m sure you’ll be quite acceptable."

"Madame Ollia, thank you." I knew enough not to resist this offer especially since the sublease on my apartment was about to expire. The prospect of another "bonus" from Madame Ollia was no small incentive.

I started to move my belongings into the apartment. When I arrived with the second load I saw the maid who had cleared the tea things after my oral escapade with Ollia was there with her cohort. More accurately, it was Ollia’s escapade with me. The maids had started to unpack my boxes.

"I’m Zena. Please to tell us where to put your things." She half curtseyed. I really noticed her; I mean noticed all her attractions. Short, shorter than my five feet six, light brown hair in a French braid. Her uniform was open enough to reveal rather full, round breasts nestling in the lace cups of her bra. In any context Zena was quite beautiful.

Her cohort was no slouch in the looks department either. Zena said something to the other maid in what I took to be Russian. The taller girl had an almost Asian appearance except for her tall, slender yet very curvy body. She climbed onto a stepstool to finish lining a closet shelf. Her thin uniform did little to conceal her wonderfully firm bottom. She was wearing full coverage panties; the lines showed that much.

It was becoming increasingly plain that Madame Ollia’s dance instruction, even with expensive individual instruction, was not the sole nor even likely the prime support of this rather luxurious menage.

 

I awoke the next morning to a knock at the door. Disoriented and unsure that yesterday was not a fabulous dream, I splashed water in my face before opening the door.

Zena entered with a pot of coffee .

"You may take breakfast with Madame Ollia in the house should you please to."

"Thank you. I’ll shower first."

Zena walked to the bathroom and turned on the shower. She pulled my tee shirt over my head. As I walked toward the bathroom she followed and pulled my briefs down. The initial effect was embarrassing more than erotic although I did feel the start of an erection almost immediately. Zena caught me around the waist and nuzzled my back as she reached for my cock.

"Madame said I should make sure you’re fully relaxed before you have breakfast with us."

This was incredible, even bordering on bizarre. I faced Zena as she raised her skirt and eased her stockinged leg between my thighs. Pulling my face to hers she kissed me deeply while guiding my hand into her panties. My fingers found her clit. She moaned and quivered as she grasped my balls in her hand. I was suddenly lying on my back as Zena deftly brought me to a spurting climax using only her fingers. I panted as she kissed me deeply.

"More, much more another time."

I looked forward to a more intimate acquaintance with this maid who performed such unusual services.

It took me a while to find my way down the backstairs and into the informal dining room of the brownstone that was home to Madame Ollia, Stacy, Zena and God only knew who else.

Stacy had left the dining room and was rapidly walking to the floor above as I reached the landing. The flowing movement of her skirt revealed the backs of her thighs but, alas, not the glimpse of panties I hoped for. Her muscular legs were hypnotic in their attractiveness. The overall impression was of a graceful, beautiful yet aloof girl ending adolescence and arriving at womanhood.

"Come eat." Madame Ollia beckoned me to the table.

 

Breakfast was eaten in silence with only desultory conversation in response to Madame’s questions to me on music and dance. I thought it might be rude to try for an ongoing conversation. Madame appeared pleased with my responses.

"I will need you for a class at three."

I rose as Madame got up from the table gathered her robe and prepared to exit. To my surprise, she approached me, ran her fingers over my cheek and kissed me lightly. Why?

The three o’clock class was composed of girls in their late teens. They were lovely as they moved through the barre exercises and onto the floor movements. All were dressed in white tights and conservatively cut black leotards. The class had all the aspects of formal European ballet training. Madame lavished an unusual amount of attention and care on two or three of the students. They were medium height, perhaps even tall for ballerinas. The three were powerful in their leaps. Despite the power of their movements and the slender, defined musculature of their arms and upper bodies, these girls were magnificently lithe and graceful. The sculptured muscles of their thighs showed to advantage in the white tights.

After about twenty-five minutes Madame directed the girls to put on their toe shoes. I took advantage to observe the inner thighs and crotch of one of the favored three. She looked up and realized I was eyeing her lustily. She looked down and blushed momentarily. Her friend whispered something that started her giggling. A wink and a smile had me enthralled. "Careful," I reasoned to myself. "Madame will not be pleased if you frighten away the paying customers."

Madame’s voice was like a metronome as she directed the group and individuals through the basic pointe or toe exercises. She became inspired and inspirational as she talked each dancer through classical pieces and combinations.

Marisa, for that was the girl who had so attracted me, was superb as she glided through movements from Swan Lake. My heart was in my mouth as I accompanied Marisa’s movements. I wanted to reach out, take her in my arms yet I feared something so beautiful, so graceful would disappear like a fey being from the spirit world.

Class ended all too soon.

Study time as I seated myself at the desk in my apartment. I turned to look through the open window at the street below. Marisa and her two friends had chatted with Madame and were the last to leave. My patience was rewarded. Marisa and her two companions came out the street door below. One of the girls looked up and said something to Marisa. The three giggled. Marisa glanced up, blushed and waved to me. Again, my heart pounded up into my throat. An electric tingling sensation followed. Need I tell you where?

At about five thirty the phone rang. It was the girl who had summoned me to my first meeting with Madame Ollia. "Matt? ... This is Stasia, Stacy. You know, Madame’s niece. Madame asks that you join us for dessert and coffee if you are available. Is eight o’clock convenient?" No way would I miss this opportunity to see Stacey.

A dessert called charlottka. Layers of lady fingers interspersed with whipped cream and fermented raspberry preserves. Tea was served in small glasses set in silver holders. The whole scene was very much out of the Russia of the Czars. I was offered coffee.

Madame smiled as she watched me. I was clearly taken by Stacey who wore an open necked blouse that highlighted her full firm breasts whose cleavage was accented by an Eastern Orthodox cross of heavy gold. She was regal in her bearing.

Stacey had a way of bending forward as she passed things to me that aroused me beyond endurance. She frequently crossed and recrossed her legs then rearranged her skirt for modesty’s sake. Yet each time she did, she managed to lift her skirt higher than necessary. Her panties were powder blue!

Stacey soon excused her self and left the room.

"Have a care. She is unsettled and in love with her own reflection."

"Thank you Madame Ollia. I respect you and heed your advice."

"Only respect? I thought perhaps some attraction."

I stood as Madame made ready to leave. Exchange of kisses on both cheeks. Then suddenly Madame’s mouth was over mine, our tongues probing. Madame stepped backed. "Matt, you are very good. You excite me with feelings I have not had in too long." She was gone.

A few minutes later I sat on my bed reading. Trying to read really. I understood that Stacey was not available to me except for me to be used to satisfy her whims. Perhaps my intimacy with Madame was not as much the one time impulsive indiscretion I thought. Time would tell.

And then there was Marisa. Her fine dancing, her unaffected giggle. Not the least of her attractions was her superb ballerina’s body. Yet her smile and her giggle melted and warmed my being like one’s first crush.

I drifted off into a pleasant sleep. My hand was on my cock.

Routine was soon established. I attended college and played for Madame’s classes as she needed me. I came and went as I pleased.

Marisa was not in any of the classes I played for. It dawned on me how very much I was attracted to the reality of Marisa; so different from the unreachable qualities of Stacey.

I was leaving to go to the grocery store when I passed Marisa on the stairs. She startled me as I turned on the landing . Realizing I had been startled, she said "Boo!" and laughed. I paused and stared at her. I hadn’t realized how beautiful she was. Black hair pulled back in a pony tail stood in sharp contrast to her intense blue eyes. Her thin cupid bow lips were almost boyish yet so very tempting. She licked her lips. An almost sardonic smile crossed her face. Stepping forward, Marisa pinned me against the wall and kissed me deeply. Her body pressed against me. I felt her breasts against my chest. Her groin ground against mine. She drew her face back from mine while continuing to press her body against me. There was something missing. The urgency of suddenly aroused passion was absent form this wild moment. It struck me that Marisa was very much in control!

Her hand was on my crotch. She slowly closed her fingers on my balls. I winced.

"Please call me. If Madame doesn’t object, I want to see more of you. Damn it, I want to see more of you even if Madame does object!"

 

As I played for the first class on Saturday morning I realized I had forgotten my watch. Between classes I went up to get it. Zena and Marina were in the gym/studio room on the floor above.

Marisa was in leotard and tights, her black hair in a bun tied with a colorful scarf. Her high heeled pumps were totally incongruous with her dancer’s attire. Zena wore a short black chemise and dark stocking with heels. It was clear that the two were engaged in some sort of physical workout together.

They noticed me and smiled. Marisa waved. As she did so Zena caught her arm and dropped her to the floor. She yanked the younger woman’s head back. "Never, ever be distracted." She shoved Marisa to the floor.

"Good morning," she said warmly as she turned to me. "I’m teaching her self- defense"

She fell over backwards as Marisa, without getting up kicked her feet out from under her. Her legs were pulled over her shoulders as Marisa deftly pinned her. This quick action also afforded me a generous view of Zena’s pink nylon panties highlighting her forcibly exposed nylon encased crotch!

"Right, Zena! And never turn your back" Marisa’s laugh was light and girlish despite the fact she was engaging in some serious martial arts techniques!

Marisa stood up and greeted me with a kiss. "You’re quite a formidable girl."

Marisa nodded. "I’ve got straighten myself up for class." She kicked off the heels. "Just for realism. After all, I’m not likely to need to protect myself in the ballet studio."

"Give me a minute. I want to get my watch."

I returned to see Marisa retying her bun. To my surprise, she pulled her leotoard off her shoulders and lowered it to her waist. Marisa pulled the waist band of her tights down and adjusted her panties before taking the wrinkles out of her tights. She tugged her black bra to a more comfortable fit before finally replacing her leotard.

I was half erect watching this slender, athletic dancer put herself back together.

Marisa took my arm and leaned her against my shoulder as we started down to the studio.

"Let’s go for Chinese food tonight." Marisa looked up at me as she made the suggestion.

"What time should I pick you up? And where? I know so little about you"

Marisa smiled and kissed me lightly.

I met Marisa in front of the apartment she shared with her mother in a residential neighborhood.

Marisa was more beautiful each time I saw her. A knee length blue pleated skirt and a white sweater under an open rain coat. Stockings and tennis shoes. She drew the coat tightly about her, belted it and turned the collar up. A fedora hat shaded her face but not so much that it prevented me from being drawn to the intense gleam of her blue eyes.

Marisa and her mother had moved to New York a little more than a year before. I was curious as to how they could move so readily and establish themselves so well so quickly. As we walked to the local Chinese place, Marisa explained the move.

"My mom has a really, really good income so it doesn’t matter where we live or what we do for money. She got a really good settlement and alimony from my father when they divorced. And I got money when he died. God, he was the last person in the world I wanted to be near or be anything like. I guess he felt guilty about staying away from me, not that I wanted him at all, so he made up for it in his will. He didn’t want me around either so I guess we were even."

Marisa squeezed my arm harder as she told this tale with more pain than she cared to admit

"Mom thought I could really develop my gifts if I trained with Madame Ollia. You see Mom’s medical, I mean like an M.D. so she had no trouble finding work here."

. The cold autumnal drizzle started as we walked to the nearby restaurant.

The Chinese place was super. A dimly lighted neighborhood place like so many in the outer boroughs of New York at that time. Not very authentic but great shrimp and lobster sauce. The owner greeted Marisa and seated us in a cozy booth off to the side. Marisa had a way of leaning across the table as she talked. Her fingers rested on the back of my hand. She had the most fascinating way of tilting her head to the side as she listened to me.

The grace of this girl was enthralling. She curled like a cat as she settled into the booth. Marisa repeated the gesture that so attracted me the first time I saw her. A tilt of the head with a simultaneous smile and a teasing wink. That look was the prelude to an even more shamelessly seductive move.

Marisa put one foot flat on the bench and allowed her skirt to fall toward her hips affording me an unfettered view of the crotch of her shiny white panty girdle. This was no accidental glimpse. Marisa held the pose. We were the only table occupied in the small alcove. No fear of being observed by other than me. The fullness of her mons was for my eyes alone.

"Do you like what you see?... My earrings, you silly" Her musical laugh.

"I know, I know. I’m such a tease sometimes."

"Wait...Your ears weren’t pierced this morning."

You noticed! That is so great. You deserve a reward for noticing. The earrings were my grandmom’s."

Marisa reached across the table and pressed my hand. "You’ll get your reward. I promise."

Her tongue slowly traveled arose those perfect cupid bow lips. I was hers if she would have me.

Marisa liked everything about Madame Ollia but "That bitchy niece of hers. Thank goodness she’s going back to her mother in France. The pseudo aristocratic snob thinks life should be lived like in Garbo flick. "

I shouldn’t have, but I felt relieved that Stacey was leaving. She was beautiful but, according to Marisa, a self-indulgent user. I didn’t need to get involved with that stuff. Marisa was too attractive, too sweet, too real not to be cherished.

Something perturbing happened during dinner. This beautiful and to all appearances healthy girl took two pills, each different while we ate. Not wanting to seem forward or overly familiar, I asked nothing. My facial expression must have shown concern because she gave me that endearing smile and wink. "I’m okay. I promise," she whispered reassuringly.

A long, slow hand holding walk. Marisa invited me into the apartment. Coffee and an eclair. Marisa straddled me as she fed me the eclair. She licked bits of chocolate from my lips. A very deep kiss and a long embrace.

Marisa led me to her bedroom and put on a record. Oscar Peterson. Cool jazz! This girl has taste.

With the balance, the poise that only a classical dancer could have, Marisa balanced on one foot as she slowly drew the other knee to her chest. She undid the laces of her shoe and extended her leg toward me. I removed her shoe and massaged her arch. I kissed her instep, her toes. She drew her leg back. Then an encore for the other leg.

The fullness of her mons that I noticed in the restaurant was fascinating.

Marisa’s skirt was over her hips as she pushed me on to my back. My hand caressed her bottom thorough the taught fabric of her panty girdle. "Darn, Marisa. You’re probably the last girl on earth who needs a girdle."

"Just to keep up my stockings. Maybe some other reason too."

Marisa had my shirt open and was tonguing my nipples. "You get to do that to me next time," she teased. "But you do need to be rewarded for noticing I had my ears pierced.

She managed to undo my trousers and get them off. She eased my briefs down and pulled my cock. Kneeling over me, she ran her tongue around the rim. Marisa looked at me and smiled. Her mouth engulfed my cockhead. Again she looked at me smiling and ran her tongue up and down the bottom of the shaft.

"Marisa, Marisa, I don’t have a ..."

"You don’t need to wear anything on your cock. I want to taste every drop. Now just keep quiet." Her mouth covered mine as she squeezed my balls.

Marisa again turned her attention to my very erect cock. Her tongue flicked at my pee hole before it ran around the rim of my cockhead. Marisa’s warm breath aroused me even further ash kissed my inner thighs. She spread my legs and kissed that ever so sensitive spot between my balls and my hole.

Holding my balls in her hand, Marisa took my entire cock head in her mouth. Very slowly, she swallowed the full length of my shaft. Her finger worked its way into my bottom. Vibrations of electric ecstasy ran from my cock and balls through every fiber of my being. My back arched, my arms and legs went rigid and then quivered as I experienced the most surprisingly intense orgasm. It seemed to go on forever as I spurted what must have been quarts of cum down Marisa’s eager and talented mouth.!

Marisa’s fingers squeezed me dry. True to her word, she licked up every drop and swallowed it.

"You are so, so loud," she laughed as she straddled my chest. "Next time it’s your turn to get me off!"

 

A note on my door suggested brunch with Madame Ollia. I was seated at the breakfast table at 11:00,

The tall exotic woman who had been with Zena when I moved in served Madame and me. "Please call me Olllia," she began pensively.

"You already know that I was a courtesan in Paris. There is more to that. I had become very adept in creating scenarios for unique tastes. That is when Zena came to me. Zena would dress as a very young girl who, in the scenario, would turn the tables on her would be molester. You saw her training Marisa.

"She wasn’t always so skilled at protecting herself. As a girl she had been raped many times during the war. Zena swore it would not be that way all her life. When she arrived in Paris she earned money in any way she could. She was also determined to protect herself form rape. So Zena strengthened herself and learned to brawl. When she had money she studied every form of self-defense she could learn. She is beautiful but formidable.

"Zena is not simply a servant. I regret to tell you but she was my spy on you. I am sorry but I needed to be sure I could trust you, rely on your discretion.

"There are men who prefer to be beaten by beautiful woman. Beaten to orgasm. Zena does that well. Plus her loyalty to me has made her a sort of enforcer for those who...but that is for some other time.

"Don’t think of my dance school as what you would call a front. I need the dance to exist. We have trained many, many young girls and some boys to be dancers. Some became professional but all are better for it. The other business is other business entirely. They don’t mix."

I was astounded. Things were falling into place, allowing me to make sense of Madame Olllia’s many worlds.

"What about Marisa? Which does she belong to?"

"I understand your concern. Marisa is not of my world of courtesans. She’s no whore."

"Sorry, I mean no offense. Don’t even liken your world to that of a whore. You are too beautiful, too much a creator of beauty... It’s just that Marisa said her mother brought her to you to develop what she called her unique talents or something like that."

"Matt, you are in love with Marisa. She is beautiful and talented but unique; unlike any girl in your experience. She can best explain that to you. It will take time for you to understand, for her to feel secure with you. She is drawn to you. In time she may love you as you will love her."

Madame arose and took me by the hand. "Come, Matt. You will walk with me."

We strolled along the esplanade overlooking Manhattan. Ollia put her arm through mine. We said little as we walked in the autumn sunshine.

Madame’s outer coat was open. The breeze stirred and lifted her wrap skirt. She tugged it closed and laughed.

"Take me home and see me inside. Not home; to the studio. I want to dance for you."

 

The shadows had lengthened as we entered the studio. I helped Madame remove her coat. She kicked her shoes off.

Her leg slowly rose to the barre. I was awed by her grace and beauty. Her supple grace was unimaginable. She raised her leg higher. The black slip fell back to reveal the stockings defining her muscular thigh and the smooth skin above her stocking top. Black tailored panties. Madame stepped away from the barre.

Her skirt fell to the floor as she unbuttoned her blouse. Beckoning to me, she pushed the shoulder straps of her slip off her shoulders. The fair skin was in sharp contrast to the black silk of her bra and panties.

Madame pushed me to my knees as she lowered her panties over her hips. I need no prompting as she turned her back to me. I kissed her full, firm bottom. I kissed the base of her spine as I ran my tongue lower and lower between her cheeks. Madame quivered as she fell to her knees and pushed me onto my back. Her fingers caressed, teased every part of me as she undressed me.

"You will indulge my whim," Madame Ollia said cryptically. She placed her knees on my shoulders. She opened her pocketbook. Lipstick was applied to my mouth. "Just a touch of eye liner and mascara. Lie still." Madame reached for her panties and ran them over my face. "Stand!" I was too aroused to even dream of not cooperating.

I stepped into the panties as Madame held them at ankle height. Madame turned me to the mirror.

A slender, flat chested yet sexy girl looked back at me! For an instant I thought someone else was in the studio. The effect was devastatingly bizarre. My cock throbbed once or twice. Madame, who was standing behind me. pulled me to the floor. She lowered her self onto my throbbing cock and rode me to a very, very intense mutual orgasm.

"You see, Matt, the odd can be very pleasurable and people aren’t always what they appear to be. "

She grabbed my face and kissed me. Madame forced my head between her legs. Not really forced: I was more than willing to please my employer.

My first taste of cum! It was my own mingled with Ollia’s juices as I ate her to a second orgasm.

The rest of the day was spent studying and writing a term paper. A dinner break was simply a sandwich, salad, and a glass of wine. It was mainly a chance to reflect.

Madame’s cryptic comments about Marisa and her warning about Stacey were puzzling. I was also serving Madame Ollia in very , very intimate ways. Yet the relationship served me as well. I was being taught some very exotic sexual techniques. Despite my rational sense, my urges made me wish to again make love in panties and makeup, to go even further in adapting as a female during sex!

Madame’s descriptions of Zena bringing men to ecstasy by physically dominating them were more overwhelmingly seductive than I could have imagined!

The shadow in the doorway startled me. Stacey smiled at me! The girl was magnificent! A white sheath dress over off white stockings and bone t-strap heels. Baroque pearl earrings. A blue sash emphasized her small waist. The curves of her breasts rose above the low, square neckline of the dress.

"I’m sorry if I frightened you but I wanted to talk with you, to show you that I really like you. It is too bad that I must leave this week."

I started to answer but Stacey put her palm over my mouth. "Say nothing. You are to satisfy my needs."

A few days before I would have killed for Stacey but now Marisa had become too important to me for me to touch even Stacey. I started to protest.

Stacy wrapped her arm under mine and pushed up in a pressure hold. I yelped in pain. She didn’t relent. "Don’t dare speak to me of that thing! Marisa is nothing. You have no idea of what Marisa really is!"

Stacey’s free hand was unbuttoning my pants. She yanked them down and pushed me away. I kicked off my shoes and stepped out the pants. I stepped toward Stacey and grabbed her around the waist in an attempt to squeeze the breath out of her. Her hand snapped my head back as her legs wrapped around my waist. I could barely breathe.

I remained standing for a moment with Stacey’s powerful legs squeezing me ever more tightly. Her mouth covered mine. Her moist lips nibbled at mine. I collapsed to my knees.

She pulled her skirt down over her knees as I struggled to regain my breath. "I love it when boys play rough. It gives me a chance to show what Zena has taught me starting when I was a little, little girl."

My hand was pulled against Stacey’s breast. She guided her fingers over her nipple. The thickness of her dress and bra prevented me from feeling any details. A twist of my wrist sent me onto my back! She used leverage to roll me onto my tummy. I started to get up but a kick to my bottom dropped me on my face. My shirt was pulled over my head.

"Get up and take off those coarse briefs." I obeyed. My erect cock drew Stacey’s attention.

Stacey had brought a small bag with her. She produced a pair of white cotton panties and threw them at me. I put them. "You are understanding what I need.," said this formidable young beauty as she grabbed my balls and squeezed. Whimpering, I fell to my knees.

A white, long leg panty girdle was dangled in front of me. "Why that?" I protested expecting more blows, more pain. "To keep you in place so you don’t come until I allow you."

I rose to one knee and reached for the girdle. I caught Stacey’s wrist and pulled her off balance. As she staggered to recover, I lifted her leg and dumped her to the floor.

She landed flat on her back A knee into her stomach left her panting for air.

The humiliation at Stacey’s skilled, powerful hands and being put in panties by her had aroused me beyond endurance. I didn’t care if I had my way with her or if she had her way with me. Marisa would probably never know; there was not yet a commitment between us although I knew I wanted her. Madness to think of that as I struggled with Stacey in what was no playful erotic wrestling match but a serious combat.

Stacey recovered quickly and sank her nails into my balls. I winced and tried to break free. I landed a punch to her stomach. I was free and on my feet.

Stacy sat up. "Time out." I eyed her suspiciously as she got to her feet. "Help me unzip this dress" Turning her back to me, she lifted her hair over her neck.

I kissed the back of Stacey’s neck as the dress fell. An ivory silk chemise barely concealed the expense lace edged bra and tailored white panties with lace insets. A white garter belt held the stockings smoothly on her thighs.

Stacey laughed and shouted "Time in!" Her elbow rocketed against my midsection. I doubled over as she spun around. Her knee came at my face. I managed to roll away thus avoiding the full force of her skillfully struck kick.

My hand caught the top of her wrist as my leg swept her feet from under her. Again, I dropped my knee into her stomach. Real guilt at brutalizing this beautiful, desirable girl . Then again, Stacey could just as easily have committed serious mayhem on me. She lay motionless, moaning.

A few minutes later Stacey spoke. "You are good. I’ve beaten so many guys bigger than you. Even in street fights...Fuck me, fuck me!"

I knelt between her legs. "Not that way...in my tush" I laughed at the way "Tush" sounded with that very exotic accent.

She pushed me onto my back . My panty crotch was pulled aside allowing my cock to extend fully. Stacey used her mouth and tongue to lubricate me. She slapped my face! "Keep your panties on. I like you like that"

Stacey quickly assumed the doggy position. Her panties were hardly lowered. I kissed her cheeks and darted my wet tongue into her ass hole!

Stacy guided me into her as I reached around her and held her breasts. The feeling was so different from being inside a vagina. Balancing on one hand, this sex goddess reached between her legs and massaged my balls. We were moving in a slow but increasing rhythm. I moved my hand toward her crotch in order to finger her clit and increase the intensity of her orgasm. To my surprise, she caught my wrist and forced my hand back to her breast.

Stacey was moaning and yelping as her arousal increased. I screamed as I started to cum. A sound combining a screech and a moan announced Stacey’s orgasm. She bucked wildly, increasing my ecstasy even as she came.

I lay on top of Stacey, my cock still in her tight bottom. I kissed her sweaty face. She wiggled her tush as she clamped her sphincter tightly around my cock. "Thank you Stacey. That was sooo great." Stacy replied laughingly, "You’re quite welcome. And I thank you, Matt." We laughed as we rolled onto our backs.

Stacey leaned on one elbow as her fingers idly traced my nipples. Her smiled as she looked down at me. "I really care about you, Matt. If things were different I would make you mine. We may never even see each other again...even for a minute. I hate Marisa. Her ‘typical teen’ pose. Bitch!... But she’ll be good to you and good for you...at least until you become bored with her novelty."

Tears filled her eyes as she bent her lips to mine. " You must be experienced with girls, with women..even before Ollia... Just remember...I was your first like this."

Laughingly I asked, "You mean in tushie loving...Yes, of course"

Stacey sprang to her knees. "Well, that too!"

We rolled over in a playful hug. "What did you mean by that?"

"You’ll see. You’ll see"

 

An hour later I was ready for sleep. The book I planned to read was on my lap as I contemplated my situation. Madame Ollia was unreal. I was just her toy. Great for as long as it lasted. Stacey and Marisa were driving me wild. They were both phenomenally attractive yet there was something very unsettling about each of them.

The fight with Stacy had really turned us both on. I had no problem with giving to her in her butt yet something wasn’t right. She was totally, totally hot but she didn’t want me to touch her clit! That’s got to be weird!

I drifted into a deep sleep and woke rested when my alarm went off.

Stacey was in and out of the studio over the next week. She was warmer toward me but we went on as if nothing had ever happened between us. Then one day I was on my up to my apartment when Stacey came out of the dance studio.

"Well, Matt. Hi." Her smile was warm but challenging. She leaned forward and kissed me lightly on my lips. "Mmmm. I miss the fun we had the other week."

Stacey took me by the hand and led me to the small gym on the next level. She was exquisite in a simple navy pleated skirt and off white blouse. Crew socks and penny loafers completed this school girl look. Stacey sat on a bench and drew one leg to her chest, wrapped her arm around it and rested her chin on her knee.

Her voice broached no refusal. "Strip...to the skin." Fascinated and aroused, I obeyed.

"Kneel." I dropped to my knees as she turned her back to me and raised her skirt. The shiny, white nylon panties were inches from face. I kissed her cheeks and ran my tongue over the cleft of her bottom.

Stacey turned to me and dropped to her knees. Her long fingers wound around my erect cock. We kissed.

"I wanted to fight you again. To beat you. To defeat you until you do my bidding."

Playfully I answered "Do you think you’ll get lucky this time?"

Stacey grabbed my balls and twisted! She was on her feet instantly. I felt myself pulled to my feet. A lightning fast judo throw had me on my back. Stacey clamped a wrist lock on me I lay on my side unable to move as Stacey towered over me. I tried to kick at her ankles but each time she applied pressure to my wrist and arm.

I staggered to my feet as Stacy brought her knee into my balls. I doubled over as Stacy rammed her knee against my bar bottom. I fell to my knees, my face against the floor.

Stacey undid her blouse and stepped out of her skirt. This lithe amazon, so innocent and virginal in white panties and bra, had completely overpowered me in a few seconds! I was completely aroused.

Kneeling beside me, Stacey clutched my cock. Leaning forward, she caressed her face with my cockhead. Her tongue went up and down the shaft. Her fingers massaged my shaft as she took the head in her mouth.

"Cockheads are sooooo soft. They’re like baby skin."

"I ‘ll never know for sure so I’ll just take your word for that."

"Oh, you’ll know," she teased in her little girl voice. "You’ll know and sooner than you think."

Stacey straddled me and pulled her panty crotch aside. She released her cock from the gaffe!

I was so incredibly hot! Instinct guided me as I hungrily, greedily put my mouth over her cockhead. "See, Matt. Just like baby skin," laughed Stacey. She shifted to a sixty-nine position.

Tongues swirled over rims. We were frantic in our love making. Sensations flooded me that were unlike any I had dared to dream of. Stacey’s tongue teased my nipples. She parted my thighs and explored the sensitive skin between my balls and my hole. She purred as she tasted my precum. I whimpered as she teased me by pulling her cock back as tried to eat her.

We exploded in each other’s mouths. Wave after wave of ecstasy shot through me as I quivered, pumping load after load into Stacey’s skilled mouth.

I squeezed Stacey’s cock after she filled me with her delicious cum. I wanted every drop.

Stacey’s head was on my chest as we lay panting.

"Stacey...that was the best. You’re so beautiful"

"Even though I have a cock?"

"Especially because of that. Now I know what you meant when you said that you were my first like this."

"Just forget what I said about Marisa and you. You’re going to be mine. Matt, I want you. We can be so great together!"

We showered in my apartment. Stacey telephoned for Zena to bring her fresh underwear.

"Zena, you have to train Matt. He was just too easy to take."

Later that afternoon I was summoned to dine with Madame Ollia. I was concerned that I had overstepped my limits by becoming involved with Stacey. Well, I reasoned, all good things must end even though this one hadn’t really begun. Then again, I still had possibilities with Marisa.

A cold supper had been set out for the three of us. Madame greeted me with a kiss on each cheek. Stacey sat demurely on a chair in the parlor. A powder blue silk blouse and a long hostess skirt gave an air of relaxed sophistication. My heart pounded as I thought of her special assets and her superb techniques. The greeting from Ollia reassured me that I wasn’t about to be tossed out.

Madame Ollia poured me an aperitif. "You now know why I told you that things are not always what they seem. You recall I said that when I put you in panties and made you up. When I was in Paris I performed many, many unusual services. There were those who fancied boys who could be girls. And it is not only a certain class of men who want there young girls with a penis but many, many women prefer to be loved by such girl-boys and to love them in so many different ways. I trained these lovers for many people.

"Stacey is different. Even as a child she never felt right as a boy. We indulged her, cultivated her feminine talents. She is a good dancer but a very, very good cabaret singer.

"A well known lounge in Paris has offered her a contract."

Stacy interrupted her aunt "I’m backing out! Ollia, I’m not going. I’m staying here in New York to be with Matt. That bitch Marisa can burn in hell before I abandon Matt to her. Such a hot shit because her mother, the doctor, is giving her pills to grow breasts. Ridiculous!

"And her pretensions to being arty. Coarse peasant...

"And I’m not being a bitch just to spite Marisa. At first I thought to take you from her to piss her off. I’m falling in love with you, Matt. It wasn’t supposed to. What with me raised to be so regal and aloof, it shouldn’t have happened. Yet it did because I appreciate you all the more. Matt, you are so real, so unaffected. I don’t want to leave you. I’m not going to any lounge or any city unless you’re with me."

Ollia walked over to the younger girl who was now on her feet. A resounding slap. Stacey brought her hands to her face and started to cry. She dropped back onto the easy chair and curled up weeping.

"Please forgive this tawdry scene," Ollia said to me as if she had just stepped out of a stage role. "Do stay. We’ll be all right in a moment."

Stacey stood up and strode from the room. "Excuse me. I must wash my face. Oh yes, and pull myself together. Forget that I have emotions. Yes, do that too."

Ollia sat on the arm of my chair. "Love her, Matt. Love her with every fiber of your being...." There was a pause that was not so reassuring, as if Ollia had doubts about her own words. The full impact of that pause would only become clear to me much later.

I listened as Ollia explained away some of the mysteries that were puzzling me. Several of her pupils were boys from good families. They had never been comfortable as boys and so their families were having Ollia teach them to exist as girls. "It is better than letting them go mad or destroy themselves," she said sadly.

"I ask you to be sure that Stacey is for you...that you can accept spending many years or a lifetime with lover who is not as female as she appears to the world. The pleasures can wear thin."

Stacey returned after about fifteen minutes. Her eyes were red from crying. "Matt, play for me."

I sat down at the piano. This was not a comfortable moment. The action of the recently tuned parlor grand was just right for my style. "Golliwog’s Cake Walk" drew giggles from Stacy. Her emotional outburst had cleared the air. She improvised a little dance to it. Ollia smiled approvingly as she kissed her niece’s cheek.

My mood had improved. Ollia was seated on the couch. Stacey was coiled like a cat at her feet. Ollia’s fingers combed through the younger girl’s hair. I realized how much Ollia, the worldly woman of so many varied talents adored her niece.

Stacey smiled at me and blew me a kiss. "The Way You Look Tonight" was the perfect song for that moment. I just wasn’t sure whether it was Stacey or Ollia who was the one I meant the song for.

Stacey kissed Ollia’s fingers as she rose. My unique lover’s hands rested on my shoulders. I looked up at her and asked "F major, okay? From the top."

Ollia and I applauded madly as soon as Stacey finished the song. "You are sensational!" She was really and truly sensational. She was Edith Piaf and Chris Connor rolled into one voice. Phrasing, pitch were all perfect. This girl was a major talent.

"Ollia, I’ll honor that contract if Matt can be my accompanist."

"We’ll try. I promise we’ll try," said her aunt enigmatically.

The cold supper, the wines all sat well. Ollia excused herself leaving me with Stacey.

Stacey knelt on the floor before me. She pressed my palm to her lips and kissed it. Tears filled her eyes.

"Matt, Matt... Forgive me. I’m assuming so much. I didn’t mean to fall in love with you and I didn’t want you to know I did. Don’t hate for forcing myself on you.

"I don’t have any right to pull you into my shadow world. We can love each other but where do we go to have a life? I’m not a woman who can give you babies. I shouldn’t make you travel with me to what ever bizarre life I might have.

"Eventually I’ll have Ollia’s training of ...you know.

"Why am I like this...so good at what I am, but what am I?

"Marisa is of your calm, stable, world. Why couldn’t I just let her have you? I have no right... I just love you." She dissolved in to tears.

I drew her to me and kissed the tears from her cheeks. It was not without irony that this strange girl who so completely dominated me a few hours before was being comforted in my arms.

"Stacey, you are so sweet to care, so unselfish. I love you. I don’t know for how long we can make it work or even if we can make it work...but let’s just let it happen."

The look of trust in her eyes was intimidating. It meant responsibility and commitment.

I watched Stacey fall asleep. I slipped a couch cushion under her head and kissed her goodnight. A moan of contentment from her throat as she stirred lightly. I covered her with an afghan and let myself out.

Ollia smiled and nodded to me from the doorway as I left. She put her finger to her lips in the classic shushing gesture and then held it a foot in so in front of her face as if to reprimand me and to warn me. But of what?

 

Morning brought new considerations. I was not fully wake when the phone rang.

"Thanks ever so much for putting up with me last night."

"Really Stacey. I wasn’t putting up with you. I care about you and I think it was good for us both that you could be open with your feelings..."

"Don’t patronize me. Don’t...I was being just too melodramatic."

A long silence followed by click, a dial tone. Stacey was right. This was too melodramatic, too entirely theatrical!

Now it was my turn to be pissed. Marisa was right about Stacey living life like a Garbo film. I felt had by the scene over supper. It couldn’t possibly have been real if Stacey was able to turn on me so quickly.

 

After returning from college classes I played for one of Madame Ollia’s classes. It was a basic ballet class composed of wealthy young woman who didn’t have to work and who wanted some exercise. Ordinarily I would have kept a lecherous eye on them. Now I wondered if I could be nearly as aroused by these real woman as I had been aroused by Stacey and her cock. Above all, could a real girl satisfy me again?

Ollia and I enjoyed a light lunch in her office.

 

"Matt, I apologize for those awful scenes last night. I thank you for being there to help Stacey work through some of her torment. She had meant to use you...I tried to warn you off."

"I understand. Perhaps it’s best I arrange to live elsewhere."

"No, Matt. Not necessary. You have learned. The novelty of what Stacey is will not overpower you so easily again.

"Stacey was raised by her mother for peculiar purposes. You no doubt have read ‘Great Expectations.’ Stacey’s mother had been ill used by her lover who fathered Stacey. Not quite like Miss Havisham adopting Estella. But my sister was inspired by the story. She had no girl to train as her Estella...but she had this pretty little boy who was just so very identified with her. She begged me to train him to be a girl as I had done for so many but never with someone so young or so tender.

"Stacey succeeded well in learning to be a girl, to be a woman. So talented in so many things that women can do. To sing, to dance, to dominate emotionally and physically...and to break hearts and then to destroy her would be lovers by reminding them they had fallen for a girl with a penis!

"I didn’t approve of my sister using this child to become her avenger. But she was my sister. If I didn’t help her others who would use her selfishly would do for her what I have done.

"You see, Matt, I was deceived last night. Deceived by my own wish for Stacey to be something better, more noble.

"She was truly attracted to you. You threatened her existence. If she gave herself to you, she could no longer be what she was trained to be. Matt, you became the greatest threat to her whole image, to her whole purpose in life. Her passion for you might be her undoing so she pushed you away.

"I am truly sorry."

"Ollia, it was not your doing. You’ve been very good to me."

"If I have been good to you, it is because you have been good for my dance school and you have pleasured me.. There is no reason for you to be used as practice by Stacey. However, I think we can break her of her of this madness. You must help me."

We finished in silence. I wondered how I could be of service to Ollia and how anyone could save Stacey from her mad destiny.

 

I napped later in the afternoon to escape my anger. The more I thought about the situation, the clearer it became that every part of Stacey’s actions that night were calculated to upset me, to arouse guilt, to break my heart. I was ready to do anything to humiliate her.

Marisa was probably lost to me forever. That hurt worst of all.

 

The phone rang as I closed my books for the evening. Ollia invited me for coffee. I was too lonely to refuse although it might mean running into Stacey. I realized that if I had been truly over my passion for Stacey, seeing her would be of no concern.

Ollia had just finished teaching a class. We sat in her office.

Ollia drew me to her as she sat in the Queen Anne chair. I stood before her as she studied my face. Her fingers opened my shirt. I helped her remove it. My trousers were next. I stood in my briefs as she ran her hands over my body, spanned my waist.

"You are really quite lovely. The day I taught you that things are not always as they seem to be...the makeup.

"Remove them, those boy briefs."

I turned slightly way from Ollia for reasons I didn’t know. I wiggled the briefs over my bottom like a girl getting out of a too tight girdle. It was as if some femme muse within my soul was directing me.

She handed me a pair stretchy nylon panty briefs. I held them in front of my face, turning them to determine the front. As I adjusted them over my body, I hooked my thumbs in the leg bands and snapped the panties down over my tush. Ollia smiled approvingly.

I stepped into the high heeled opera pumps that Ollia put in front of me. "One foot in front of the other and short steps...but don’t mince. Wear them as often as you can in your rooms. Zena will see that all your coarse boy briefs are replaced with a variety of panties. Later you may shop to suit your own taste."

She stood in front of me and ran her fingers lightly over the front of my panties. Being caressed through the soft sleek, fabric was new and arousing in ways I never dreamed of.

I was pushed onto the couch. Ollia tilted my head back. She pulled a fresh lipstick from her handbag. I closed my eyes as I relaxed and gave myself over to this new change.

Ollia stood over me my legs between hers. Her fingers glided over my naturally hairless torso. I shivered as my nipples hardened under her graceful fingers. "Yes, Matt. You will be most attractive. But you will no longer be Matt. You will become Maddie when I teach you to be the beautiful woman your face and body tell me you can be."

"Ollia, my tits feel so good when you do that," I purred as I lost control. "Why can’t I have a bra? Girls wear bras. Please Ollia." I realized I was hard and that my cock head protruded above the waist band of my panties!

"Be patient my sweet Maddie. You must experience many things as a girl before the woman will come to be. Now hush."

She straddled me and pulled her panty crotch aside. I quivered as her moist cunt slid onto my cock. She squeezed me in her muscular vagina. Short, shrill yelps came from me as I rolled from side to side.

I lifted Ollia’s blouse and pushed her bra up over her full breasts. I sucked her nipples as she settled her body over mine with my cock in her very wet cunt.

Ollia rose up and down in an accelerating rhythm. I followed her cue. The intensity of her wet lips over m cock was so intense that I could almost not bear the sensations. Ollia buried my face between her breasts. I blindly, hungrily reached my face toward hers. Ollia pushed her face against mine and trapped my head against the couch.

Her fingers tweaked my nipples as the ecstasy increased. Suddenly, the tempo of her bouncing accelerated. Ollia pulled my face against hers. Each rise and fall of her body on my cock was accompanied by an intense moan from Ollia. I was yelping louder and louder. We screamed as we came in almost perfect unison.

I lay back against the couch cushions as Ollia dabbed her crotch with a tissue. I was sweaty, my thighs soaked with Ollia’s juices.

As I gathered up my clothing and my boy shoes, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the studio mirror. The cut of my panties flattered my small, shapely bottom. My legs and ankles were flattered by the modestly high heels. My small, thin body had never served me well in sports but now I realized that it would be an asset in becoming a girl.

And I was now certain of how I would help Ollia humble Stacey.

 

The next morning I began lifting weights and training with Zena.

Pink cotton briefs under white shorts and a red tank top. I felt so femme as I worked on the waist trimming exercises.

We began the basic judo work. It seemed as though it would be forever before I would develop real skill.

I was not all surprised when Ollia suggested I start dance.

"Maddie, I cannot teach you. The beautiful travesti you are becoming would distract me much too much. I will select mentor for you. One of my pupils shows great promise, not only as a dancer but as a teacher."

Somehow I hoped and feared that she spoke of Marisa.

On Saturday morning I was to accompany a new intermediate class. Young girls who had started dance with lesser teachers but whose mothers had brought them to Ollia.

There was a new twist. I would be dressed as an arty college girl.

My makeup was subtle but transformed my features. My hair was combed in a pixie style giving me an overall Leslie Caron image. A pink broadcloth blouse open to reveal my little bit of cleavage. A scarf knotted at the neck. A wide leather belt emphasized my now tiny waist made smaller still by a beige waist cinch. The flowing skirt covered most of my calves which were concealed in black opaque stockings. Modest heels presented no problem. I had been wearing heels at every opportunity.

Stacey taught the class. I stood in the doorway with a folder of music under my arm as she arrogantly strode into the studio. She seemed startled by my presence. I was certain she didn’t recognize me.

"Who are you?" She grimaced as she spoke.

"I’m Maddie, the new accompanist. Why do you ask?"

My question had put her off her pace. "I don’t like unannounced change." Stacey really noticed me for the first time that morning. Her eyes scanned me from head to feet and back again. A half smile crossed her face. Had she read me? Did she realize who I was?

As the studio emptied, Stacey approached me. I ignored her as I gathered the music into the folder. "You did well, Maddie." Her hand was under my chin. "I do like those looks of yours." Her tongue ran over her teeth.

Stacey slipped off her dance pumps and put on her patent leather heels. I smiled approvingly as I eyed the crotch of her leotard. Stacey smoothed her tights in a further attempt to seduce Maddie. This was going rather well.

"You do date girls? I can tell a dyke bitch no matter how cutesy they are."

"Oh really? Don’t project your needs onto me."

I crossed my legs and allowed my skirt to rise on my thighs. Stacey was angry. My intent exactly.

"How dare you?" Her hand sped toward my face. I parried the slap and spun her around as I sat. She staggered back.

I rose coldly as she darted toward me. I caught her wrist as she tried a backhand slap once again. This time I twisted slowly and toppled her to the floor.

I grabbed her hair and twisted her face toward me. "Try that arrogant shit with me and you’ll regret it for as long as you live."

I raised my skirt and adjusted my stockings. Stacey’s eyes were filled with tears of rage and of embarrassment. I flipped my skirt up to reveal my panty covered tush. "Play your cards right and you might get to kiss it."

Stacey was on her feet and at me. I rolled her over my hip and onto her back. "You’ll never get to eat me if you don’t play nicely."

Stacey cried in frustration as I walked out of the studio.

Back in my apartment I showered. Except for the panties I wore almost all the time, I was a boy dressed as boy once more.

I spread some notes on my desk and tried to study. My mind kept going back to the brief scene with Stacey. I wasn’t so presumptuous as to believe that Stacey could be taken so easily every time. Still, I looked forward to further seduction and to more serious combat with her.

The phone rang. It was Marisa!

"Matt, hi..."

"Marisa! So great to hear you. I missed you but..."

"Matt, you couldn’t have missed me that much if you didn’t find time to call...Oh, shit! Really, I didn’t mean to be bitchy. I just hoped we could see a lot of each other. Madame must have you on other projects because you haven’t playing for many classes."

"Marisa, believe me...I want to spend time with you."

"I..." There was a catch in her voice as she turned teary.

"Marisa, there’s so much I have to tell you...many feelings I want to share with you."

"Matt, this is stupid to say. Girls shouldn’t come running to boys but I want to come to you right now"

"No. I’ll be at your place as soon as I can."

 

Marisa’s mom let me into the apartment.

"Hello, Matt. I’m Doctor Loring."

I was taken aback by the attractiveness of Marisa’s mother. A little taller than either Marisa or me. The high heels gave her a few inches over me. Her black hair was pulled back in a severe bun. A shirtwaist dress accented her small waist. Somehow the gold hoop earrings were incongruously seductive in comparison to her plainly severe style.

"Do come in Matt. Marisa is so happy you came. It may be puppy love yet it may be something more but she does need you. I might add she needs you very much."

She left me alone as she vanished down the hall of the apartment.

Marisa was there instantly. She wore white short shorts, a blue broadcloth blouse knotted under her chest leaving her tummy bare. White high heeled strappy sandals set off her exquisite legs.

Marisa walked up to me and put her arms around my neck. She looked at me with tear reddened eyes. I started to speak without knowing what say. Marisa covered my mouth with hers and kissed me deeply.

She interrupted her kiss long enough to speak. "Hold me. Just hold me and say nothing."

We lay on the couch locked in a desperate embrace.
"Matt... Matt...don’t leave me. Stay with me."

"Marisa, you have to know what’s going on. Ollia wants me to break Stacey, to humble her."

"I can’t stand that phony assed bitch! Why do you think I care if she’s humbled?"

Marisa had opened my belt and had worked my pants down.

"I see," reacted Marisa. "Panties! Lot’s of guys wear them...only I think Ollia wants you to learn to pass as a girl to seduce and embarrass Stacey...Why are we talking about that hateful bitch?"

Marisa laughed as she pushed me onto my back. She straddled me in a reverse school yard pin and lowered her bottom toward my grace. Her fingers traced the outline of my cock through the thin cotton of my pink panties.

"Mmmm. Such a sweet little girl," giggled Marisa.

I was swelling as Marisa got up and stood in front of me. She unzipped her shorts and drew them down to reveal pink cotton panties almost identical to mine. "We’re twins," she laughed.

Marisa sat on the edge of the couch. She licked my inner thighs as I caressed her balls through the panties. She suddenly rose up, took me by the hand and led me to her bedroom.

Her hands were like butterflies on my nipples as she removed my shirt. I stared as he gracefully removed her blouse. Her cock was stiff as it poked from the leg and of her panties. I realized how my I wanted to lick that cock, to taste her cum. And like a revelation, I knew I wanted her cock inside me!

Marisa tongued my nipples, nipped at them with her teeth as she freed my cock from the confines of the innocent looking pink cotton panties. I knelt before and took her cock in my mouth.

"No, no, no...Matt, Matt not that way." She eased my panties over my hips. I kicked them aside.

I lay on my back, my legs spread as Marisa lubricated her cock. Her ringer, gooey with KY worked in my bottom. I squirmed in fear and in anticipation of what was to come next.

Marisa knelt between my legs. She pushed my knees toward my shoulders. Her cockhead pressed against my well lubricated hole, I whimpered in elation as she thrust into me. The ecstasy of having my lover inside me more than eased the pain of a cock in my virgin bottom. I pulled her face to mine.

Her cock vibrated inside me as she moaned; short bursts of sound to start and then a prolonged scream! Her fingers tightened around my balls as she thrashed, pumping her seemingly endless stream of cum into me. My cock slapped against her tummy as I shot wad after wad onto my lover’s sweating body.

She ran her fingers through my hair as I kissed the tears from her smooth, soft skin. We slept in each other’s arms.

Marisa and I showered together the next morning. We soaped each other’s bodies as we kissed in playfully sexy game that was innocent in its spontaneousness.

Marisa gave me a pair of fresh panties. There was something terribly erotic about wearing my lover’s panties even though I almost never wore the coarse thick boy briefs that had been acceptable to me for so long.

We had a quick breakfast of toast and coffee. Marisa was almost late for school and I had to go back to the studio to change and go to classes in Manhattan.

I held Marisa’s hand as I walked her to the subway. It was all so normal, so ordinary, so romantic, so wholesome except for the fact that the adorable, graceful girl whose hand I held had a cock and that I, too, was learning to be a girl with a cock!

 

That afternoon I played for two of Ollia’s classes and one of Stacey’s. I was en drab as the phrase goes. I was beginning to think of it as ‘boy drag!’

Stacey was more matter of fact than rude. "I see you doing a lot of training," she whispered during a break. "Get strong so I can enjoy beating your butt all the more." She smiled seductively. Despite my great sex with Marisa I was being turned on!

 

Ollia asked me to stay for tea when her classes were done.

"Zena tells me you are doing well, that you are becoming a formidable opponent. Very good. I hope you are wearing heels all you can. You must be able to take very good care of yourself when you are en femme."

"I’m enjoying both aspects of being trained. I really am comfortable as a woman now. I just wish I could have more opportunity to play for your classes as a girl."

"You will, Maddie"

I realized that I was running my fingers through my hair in a teasing, seductive manner. Ollia smiled approvingly. "I t is becoming natural to you, Maddie, to be feminine. Very good.

"You see, Maddie, when I realized how well you can be a girl, a young woman, I knew I could make a place for you and make you very comfortable. I see you are puzzled.

"When you came to me, your letter of application indicated you were majoring in psychology which is of no use to me but that also you were studying art history. That was of interest to me.

"You must realize that the dancing school brings me a good income and is the source of much satisfaction. You know also of my special training for special boy-girls and that some of my students are valuable lovers to men and woman with, shall we say unusual tastes.

"That is more lucrative than the dance school although my special girls must often know classical and modern dance. I could live well with just those two sources of income but I could not enjoy the life I have. You must know there is still another source of income.

"I deal in art, jewelry, antiquities which have been lost. I don’t deal in stolen objects. I have success in locating things looted by the Nazis, and by the so called liberators. I retrieve them for the rightful owners. Other things I obtain for myself, to keep, to enjoy, to resell."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"My agents have always been women and girls of one sort or the other. You, Maddie, can serve me. But you must do it as a girl!"

"I see." My pulse raced at the thought of adventures in the underground art world...all the more so if I would experience it as a girl!

Training intensified. I spent more and more time working on strength training which also shaped my body into a more femme contour. This struck me as I stood before the full length mirror on my bedroom brushing my now long hair. My waist had become very small, even tiny. I had the look of a very lean, well toned dancer. The white cotton panties I had worn to bed emphasized the flatness of my tummy. I turned slowly to admire my curvy but small, tight tush. The high heels I wore contoured my slender ankles to perfection.

With makeup I would be more attractive than many real girls. As I was, I could easily turn heads.

I hooked a plain white bra around my waist, turned the cups to the front, slid my arms through the straps and adjusted my tiny breasts in the cups. Thank goodness for padded bras.

Realizing I hadn’t any bread or milk, I pulled a loose sweatshirt over my bra, stepped in a pair of jeans, tied my hair in a ribbon and started to go out. As I slipped my heels back on, I realized a smidge of lipstick would improve my looks although not too many were out and about at that hour.

I wrapped my arms around me to ward off the early morning chill as I walked to the grocery on Henry Street. Two cabbies leaned against a car and sipped coffee. They eyed me hungrily as I walked past them. This was just some of the garbage I would have to learn to put up with as a girl.

One of the cabbies blocked the sidewalk as I walked back carrying my bag of groceries. The other sat in his car ready to drive off in search of a fare. He hesitated in order to watch his friend torment me. Well, I am sorry but it just wasn’t going to be that way.

"Hey sweetie, care to let me have something to eat," laughed my would be molester.

"Just stay out of my way, thank you."

"Oh the little lady wants to pass." He bowed and stepped aside.

As I walked passed, he patted my butt. I turned and stared at him. "You really are too much," I glared at him as I spoke.

"Just kidding little girl."

"Don’t ever come near me again!" I set the bag on the roof of his cab.

"Says who?" he growled as he stepped in front of me.

I drove the heel of my shoe into his instep. He yelped. "Bitch!"

"Yes, I am!" With that I punched in his flabby gut. My knee shot up into his crotch. He doubled over. I grabbed his arm in a pressure hold and pistoned my knee into his ribs. He screamed, begged me to stop. I let him fall to the sidewalk. As he started to rise, I grabbed his arm in a two handed pressure hold.

His partner got of his cab and approached me. He moved quickly at first, but when he saw the damage I was doing to his friend he became cautious.

"Come on girlie, cut him a break."

"Oh, and what break would you two have cut me?" I kicked his buddy’s ribs.

"Are you volunteering to be next? Take another step and he loses an arm."

My would be tormentor was terrified. I had probably broken some of his ribs and would have just loved to break his arm. He was on his knees crying as I increased the pressure. "Oh, the big bad bully is hurt. The little girl beat your ass!" I verbally tormented him as I forced his face to the pavement. Releasing his arm, I kicked him squarely in the face. His nose spurted blood as he fainted.

I turned my attention to his companion who stood paralyzed with fear. "Maybe I should call the police and tell them you two tried to rape me!" I grabbed his ears, yanked him forward and brought my knee to his face. He went down on the first shot.

As a boy who had been bullied, I had always avoided fights. Now in my femme persona I was pretty set to handle almost any trouble. That episode boosted my confidence in the training I was getting from Zena.

Still, if I were going to get involved in all sorts of intrigues, I would have to become even better. Beating those two had been a thrill although no real challenge. I could learn to enjoy beating hapless males!

 

Ollia had asked me to meet her in her office in the dance school. I was to dress as a girl. I chose a dark green jersey dress with a flowing skirt that reached just below my knees. Black panties and matching garter belt. I rolled the sheer black stockings over my legs. Adeptly, I fastened the stockings to the garters. I slipped on fabric covered high heeled pumps to match my dress. I did my makeup at my new vanity table. A black longline bra pushed age me some semblance of cleavage. A black chemise followed by a soft net petticoat to give my skirt some shape. I stepped into the dress and zipped it up. Damn, I looked good!

I grabbed a small purse and headed downstairs.

Ollia sat in the office chatting with Marisa.

"Hello Maddie." Marisa’s face broke into a huge smile. "Ollia has told me all about your transformation. You are so, so beautiful."

Marisa would be my personal instructor in dance as I had hoped a few weeks ago.

I sat down and crossed my legs at the ankles in my most demure manner. I rose as Ollia excused herself.

"Maddie, you are just so great! I didn’t think anyone could be so beautiful and so sophisticated so soon. I’ve been transitioning since I was very little and I could never be the worldly lady you’ve become."

"Marisa, I really care about you in ways that I never thought possible. Will you be able to give yourself to me, to let me give my self to you when I’ve become Maddie?"

"Maddie, I want you. I want to love you, I want to have every kind of sex there is with you but I am what I am. How can I give anyone a life?

"Let me teach you ballet and let me be your lover for as long as we can be together. Ollia will be taking you with her on art forays in Europe and who knows where. I’m going off to college as a girl to learn dance education. I may not be able to be a dancer because of what I am but I can be a dance teacher and a good one."

She rose and walked over to the couch I sat on. She bent forward and put her mouth over mine. As we kissed I felt her hand slide along my thigh. She caressed my skin above the tops of the hose. Marisa worked her hand between my thighs. She cupped my panty covered balls. "Just checking," she teased. "You’re just so beautiful that I had to be sure you were really you and not some beautiful woman that Ollia was using as a ringer.

"Now go up and get into tights and leotard. We’ll begin your dance training in the upstairs studio."

My dance training was short lived because Marisa went of to college at the start of the spring semester. There was an empty place in my soul which should have been filled by Marisa. It stayed empty for a very long time.

I accompanied Ollia to several art and antique galleries in Manhattan. She introduced me as her assistant. Stacey knew that I had become Maddie. She was clearly resentful as she felt she should be groomed as Ollia’s successor in all things.

Ollia promised to fund the eat of my education and to pay for graduate school when we had completed our task of humbling Stacey. I was in no hurry. Life as Maddie suited me and would be even more fun.

 

A few months later Ollia and I sailed for England. I traveled en femme. Ollia had seen to a passport.

We rented a house outside of London and a flat in the West End. I was to create a diversion by seducing a collector who had obtained some pieces that Ollia wanted.

This man had a penchant for school girls and so I became Ollia’s other niece.

Mr. Ponsenby was having chatting with Ollia in the apartment when I came home from "school." I "inadvertently" barged in. The scenario called for me to be a naive, innocent eighteen year old.

The school jumper was belied at the waist. Despite the shapelessness of the dress, it managed to convey an air of sexy innocence. A white blouse and blue and gold school tie showed from under the jumper. White knee socks and blue and white saddle shoes complemented the little girl illusion. My hair was in two pigtails. A round straw hat completed the outfit and the effect..

"Oh, I’m sorry Ollia. Didn’t know you were busy," I managed a blush.

"Do come in," leered Mr. Ponsenby. "Ollia, you’ve been keeping things from me."

"My niece. Lives in America. She’ll be with me for the year so we can smooth the rough edges and make a lady of this tomboy."

"Oh dear, no. Charming as she is."

I sat down on the edge of chair making sure the crotch of my white cotton panties caught his eye before I brought my knees together. He practically drooled.

Mr. Ponsenby didn’t really seem so bad. About forty, medium height, lean, well dressed and reputedly just as interested in girls as he was in women.

"Madeline is it?" he asked after we had been introduced. "Ollia, let me show her some of the cultural treasures of London."

 

Ollia and I had dinner together in the flat. We sipped Drambuie with our after dinner coffee.

"Maddie, you really don’t have to let Ponsenby touch you. Just keep in interested. Find out as much about his sources as you can. If he tries to pressure you about my reaching his sources you are to embarrass him by showing him your cock. That will assure he stays quiet."

"Really Ollia. He’s not so bad. Might be fun to seduce him."

 

That Saturday Ponsenby took me for lunch. I wore a one piece shirtwaist dress. Of course I left the bottom buttons undone. I wore cable knit look opaque tights to keep my school girl image.

We visited Madame Tussaud’s Wax Museum at my insistence. We walked through Regent’s Park to the zoo. Ponsenby tried to get me to go to a pub for a drink. I held out for ice cream. He was enthralled by my petulant little girl ways.

I agreed to go to his flat for an early dinner.

"Really Mr. Ponsenby, I must phone Ollia. I wouldn’t want her to worry about me."

His flat overlooked the Thames. I dropped my coat to the floor, flung my hat aside and ran to the terrace. I wasn’t faking it. This was impressive!

I twirled like an excited ten year old and fell back onto the couch. I deliberately left my legs spread affording him a great view of my crotch. Perhaps I’ll wear stockings the next time so he can get a view of my panties.

The cold roast beef and ham were delicious. I rose from the table, took Ponsenby’s wine glass from his hand and sipped. I straddled his thighs. Putting the now empty wine glass on the table, I put my hands on his face. My lips were against his. I pulled back.

"Mr. Ponsenby, you frighten me. No, really. You’re not like those coarse teen boys back home. I want to do things to you that I’ve never wanted to do to anyone."

He reddened as I spoke.

"I have to go. I’ll phone when I get home so you’ll know I’m okay. Thank you for a fun afternoon." I smoothed my skirt, grabbed my coat and hat from the floor and was gone.

 

He picked up the phone on the second ring.

"Hello Mr. Ponsenby. It’s Maddie. I’m home. Thanks again. Oh! Ollia says you have a home near Cambridge. Could I see it? Like next weekend. We could drive up on Friday and Ollia will let me stay over until Sunday.... you will! That’s so neat!"

I met Ponsenby the following Friday in my school uniform. He was quite taken with this illusion I created.

I settled myself in the front passenger seat of his rather impressive Jaguar sedan. My feet rested on the dashboard. It didn’t take long for my skirt to fall back over my thighs nor for him to notice my powder blue panties.

We stopped for a snack in a small village. A rather large, unsavory fellow pulled in behind us. He loitered near his car pretending to read a newspaper.

The car park was almost empty when we got out of the restaurant. The loiterer approached Ponsenby. "You know what I want. Just give it to me and there’ll be no problem....You go play little girl." He kept his attention focused on Ponsenby.

"But I play rough," I remarked as I brought my knee into his balls. As he doubled over, I whipped the edge of my hand into his throat. He went over backwards. The pistol he had been concealing under the newspaper fell to the ground. I grabbed his wrist and twisted. I felt the bones snap!

"Just get in your car and let’s get out of here."

We roared back onto the A-1.

"Maddie, that was superb. You may have saved my life but I still wonder how an ordinary schoolgirl could be so skilled in martial arts."

"Don’t even ask. You wouldn’t understand."

 

The house was on isolated stretch of the river not far from Cambridge University. We unloaded the car and settled in. A small wooden box held the treasure that the man I had beaten was after. It was a gold and enamel cross that had belonged to the Romanov’s.

I knew Ollia wanted that cross. Could I get it for her?

After I was shown to my bedroom, I heard Ponsenby send the housekeeper off for the weekend.

I stripped to my bra and panties but left the school tie on for effect. Then I very innocently stepped into the hall to find an extra towel. Ponsenby almost had a bird when he saw me!

"Really Mr. Ponsenby. You shouldn’t sneak up on me like that," I laughed as he blushed.

He started to back away in fright as I approached. I unbuttoned his shirt and ran my hand over his smooth chest. His trousers fell to the floor. I pushed him back onto the couch.

My hand clamped over his balls. I squeezed and twisted. He yelped. This sleazy art dealer was mine to destroy!

His hands were soon tied in back of him with my school tie. I yanked his briefs down over his hips. His cock was swelling. I massaged it with my finger tips, wrapped my fingers around it.

I stepped back and spoke in breathy whisper. "I’ll bet you like oral sex. Oooohhhhhh! I have a surprise for you. I turned my back to him and offered him my panty covered rear. His tongue traced the elastic leg bands. I faced him and pulled my panty crotch aside to free my now erect cock.

His eyes bulged in terror. "You know you want eat me. Do it"

With the instinct born of terror and of secret longing, Ponsenby opened his mouth and tried to swallow my cock. "Mustn’t be so greedy," I teased as I pulled my cock away. He lapped at the head. I pushed my cock forward and allowed him to eat me. I shot in his mouth.

Ponsenby wept. "That was so good. I wanted boys for so long."

I slapped his face. "But Mr. Ponsenby, I’m not a boy. Don’t you see that I’m a girl?"

I yanked Ponsenby from the couch by his hair. I knelt on the small of his back and raised his head by his hair. He moaned softly but it was clear he was enjoying the pain and the humiliation. I untied his hands.

I wiggled my panties down over my tush as I walked out of the room. Flinging them at his face, I announced "I’m going to have a bath."

Ponsenby was delighted when in my petulant little girl voice I called him to scrub my back. My purring was turning him on. I raised my leg out of the water. "My feet." He obeyed.

"Mr. Ponsenby, will you take me to see the University tomorrow? And if I’m a good girl we could go out to dinner in a nice inn, okay?" I didn’t wait for a reply but glared at him in an unspoken command to leave.

I arose early the next morning. White nylon little girl panties with lace ruffles at the leg openings and under a party dress that made look like a twelve year old. Pigtails of course. White knee socks and black patent Mary Janes.

I asked the housekeeper to bring me a hot chocolate in the study. After getting a good grasp of where and how Ponsenby stored his contacts, I sat in the window seat reading. My feet rested on the window seat in front of me. The panties showed to advantage. I though Ponsenby would cum in his pants when he saw me.

"Oh, good morning Mr. Ponsenby. That really is too formal. May I call you Uncle Roger?" I planted a kiss on his cheek. I managed to let my lips brush his as I pulled away.

The power I was wielding over this man was enormous as was my enjoyment.

After breakfast we drove toward Cambridge University. I was disturbed when a slow moving car followed us. It passed us when we stopped but somehow wound up behind us again. Perhaps I was being too vigilant. The car vanished from sight.

I wasn’t too surprised when the same car pulled out of a lane near Ponsenby’s home. The car cut us off. Two men got out and approached either side of our vehicle.

Ponsenby was pulled out by the man on his side of the car who was demanding to know how he obtained something or other and where did he have it.

The second gorilla stood staring down at me through the open window. I move my legs around making sure he caught glimpses of my thighs and of my panties. As soon as I had thoroughly distracted him I slammed open the door. He screamed as the door him . I jumped out of the car and rammed my fist into his gut knocking the wind out of him. He tried to brace himself against the door post of the car. A large mistake on his part. I slammed the door shut on his hand. Grabbing the lapels of his coat I yanked down bashing his face against the roof of the car. He went down like a ton of bricks.

His partner released Ponsenby and stared at me in amazement. I was on him in a flash. He clutched at me. A leg sweep sent him on his back. He was barely on his knees when I karate kicked him in the ribs.

"Really, Uncle Roger. Rescuing you is getting boring. You really should learn to take care of yourself or get a bodyguard."

"I really would love it if you were to become my bodyguard."

"No Uncle Roger. I think you have ulterior motives of a not very wholesome nature... I like that! But not now. Maybe in the future. Now, have I earned a nice dinner?"

It was time to abandon my little girl pose for at least a short time. I decided that Ponsenby was due for a change. The twist I planned for the evening would bring him totally under my domination.

Shaving my legs and underarms was a turn on especially as I contemplated the evening ahead. I did my hair in a French twist. Diamond studs went ino my pierced ears. Three strand pearl choker. Black tailored panties.

The Merry Widow was a very popular foundation in the late fifties through the sixties. A combination of longline bra and open bottom girdle, it gave me a devastatingly tiny waist while making the most of my tiny breasts. I admired myself in the mirror as I clipped the jet black tops of my sheer black stockings to the Merry Widow’s attached garters. If nothing else, my new life as a seductress was appealing to my vanity.

Fastening my t-strap patent heels, I called out, "Uncle Roger. Please zip my dress."

He arrived almost instantly. His eyes bulged as I stood before him. The curve of the open bottom girdle emphasized the curve of my mons in the shiny black panties. I wondered if he was about to have a stroke.

"You really must knock. I didn’t think you would be here so quickly."

Ponsenby mumbled a half-baked excuse. I took the dress from the hanger.

"I really do hope you aren’t planning to take unfair advantage of me. You do realize you present no problem for me to handle." I ran my tongue over my teeth as I squeezed his balls. "Do you understand that?" I squeezed again.

A barely audible "yes."
"Do speak so I can hear."

"Yes, Maddie."

"Much too familiar. Try Miss Maddie."

Despite his shaking fingers, Ponsenby managed to zip the dress after I put it on.

Dinner was quite good. I really was feeling something akin to affection for this lecher.

We returned to Ponsenby’s home. The gate was secured behind us and some dogs released on the wooded grounds.

"Uncle Roger," I murmured as we sipped cordials. "Would you get undressed for me?" He obeyed.

"Your cock is really so silly. Perhaps a nice pair of panties would improve it."

"No, that’s not my style."

"Really? Then why are you rising?" I handed him a pair of the plainest white cotton panties I could find.

"Sweet. You do look sweet," I cooed when he had put the panties on.

I knelt on the chair as he stood awkwardly before me. Drawing him close, I tongued his nipples.

"You do know I’m going to fuck you." I slapped his face. He was rock hard.

"Mmm. What is that peeking over the waist band of your panties?"

I rose and unzipped my dress. It fell to the floor. "Pick it up," I barked the order to Ponsenby who was enjoying my sadistic posturing more than I could have hoped for.

"That was a good little girl maid. Now come to Mistress Maddie and be spanked."

I pulled the panties down below his butt freeing his cock. Putting my hand behind his head I pushed him across my lap and trapped his cock between my knees.

He moaned softly as I brought my palm down with a resounding slap. Five slaps in all thoroughly reddened his bottom. I stopped.

"More Mistress Maddie, more. Make me cum."

I shoved him to the floor. "Pathetic slut. Kiss my feet."

As he groveled kissing my feet I grabbed his hair and yanked him to his knees. I whipped my legs around his neck and applied pressure. A sudden twist of my hips turned him over.

"You’ll break my neck," he whined in pain. I twisted again. He was silent.

I released him and pulled him to his feet by his hair.

"Maddie, you’re carrying this too far. This was meant to be a game."

"You are going to show me where your contact records are or I’ll take you apart."

An arm pressure hold had him in tears. "You really do need a body guard. I could kill you and then phone for the police. They wouldn’t hesitate to believe a sleaze like you assaulted a poor innocent schoolgirl. I just got lucky when I tried to fight you off."

He complied.

I bent him over the chair. I shoved my cock into his bottom. He screamed in ecstasy as I jerked him off. We came together. I really did feel some affection for him.

Ponsenby fell asleep on his bed. It didn’t take me long to pack up all the papers I need for Ollia. I borrowed the Jaguar and drove back to London.

 

Ollia and I reviewed all the documents I had taken from Ponsenby’s study. The papers confirmed that Ponsenby had begun his career with art objects and rare books he filched from Nazi sites during the occupation of Germany at the end of the war. He had helped war criminals escape in exchange for the art and antiques which launched his lucrative career.

Ollia would use the information to find and restore many of these things to the rightful owners and earn handsome fees in the process. We mailed the documentation of Ponsenby’s illicit career to the proper authorities. He was arrested before we left for New York.

 

Being back in New York reminded how much I missed Marisa. She was just too damn noble. I didn’t care what kind of life we had. I really needed to be with her. The phone at her mother’s apartment had been disconnected. I contacted the hospital where her mother had been working. She had resigned and they refused to give me any information on her whereabouts.

Stacey reappeared a few months later. I had forgotten how beautiful she was. I watched her dance as I sat in Ollia’s office adjacent to the studio. Her movements flowed with grace and power. My mind told me to beware but my instincts drew me to her.

Stacey threw a towel over her shoulders and walked toward her aunt’s office. Her jaw dropped and she blanched when she saw me. She ran out of the building and back to the brownstone that was her home after all.

I sat at my desk going over my plans to return to school in the fall. I was spending more and more time in boy drag in anticipation of returning to college and going on to graduate school.

The phone brought me back form the future. Stacey spoke in breathy whisper. "Maddie, I need to speak with you. We have to talk. If you hang up it’s because I deserve it."

We arranged to meet for dinner in a small neighborhood restaurant. The menu was New England regional, the food basic and good.

"Matt, I really am sorry for being such a bitch to you. You know how my mother used me and how Ollia tried to salvage me. That’s still no excuse. I suppose I envied your ability to move from a being a boy to being a girl and back again. But what really made me panic was that I fell in love with you.

"And I hated Marisa for what I knew she would do to you. Her typical teen mask. Be a real girl all the way and avoid any situation in which she couldn’t. That’s why I knew she would hurt you. If she couldn’t have a husband and babies, she would be a martyr to her art. And she had the nerve to call me an arrogant bitch!

"I would have killed to have the affection you wanted to lavish on that ungrateful brat!"

Stacey was crying softly.

"Could we just be nice to each other?"

"Stacey, that’s just for openers."

She smiled through her tears and then sobbed openly.

We held hands as we walked home through an evening mist. The smell of the budding trees promised a new beginning.

 

I was sleeping late on morning when Stacey let herself into my apartment. She burst into my bedroom and jumped on top of me.

"Matt, Matt. I’ve been booked as a cabaret singer in some resorts on Long Island and in New England for the summer! Please, please, please be my pianist."

Stacey straddled me and covered my face with kisses.

"Darn. Give me a chance to say yes."

Stacey flung her arms around my neck as I sat up. Her skirt was around her waist as she wrapped her legs around me.

"Matt, go rinse your mouth. I love you but not enough to put up with morning breath." She kissed me. "Well, maybe I do," she laughed.

I rolled her onto her back. "I do have to tinkle." We laughed like two school children.

I undid Stacey’s blouse. She jumped up and wiggled out of her skirt. Her toned dancer’s body was exquisite. The white stretch nylon panties emphasized her firm bottom. I buried my face in the firm fullness of her perfect bottom.

She reached behind her and unhooked her bra as she sat on my tummy. Pulling her forward, I took her nipple in my mouth as she ran her fingers over my chest.

Her tongue teased my navel as I kissed her inner thighs. We were each desperate in our need to discover the intimate secret’s of the other’s body.

My tongue took the first drop of Stacey’s precum. In an instant I had her cockhead in my mouth. A superbly slow, intense sixty-nine.

We dozed in a light embrace.

Stacey and I toured the circuit of resort cabarets together. I performed as a male.

In the fall I returned to college. Stacy moved into the apartment that Ollia had provided for me when I first became the dance school pianist. We performed in cabarets and at cocktail parties on the weekends.

I started graduate school in New York University’s clinical psychology program. After all, who better to work with gender identity problems than I?

I trained as a psychoanalyst after earning the Ph.D. I was pretty much living as a man all the time. My approach was not to change the gender gifted people I treated but to enable them to function and to be happy as they were.

Stacey was my soul mate. She grew more beautiful as the years went by. Just after our twentieth anniversary together she was diagnosed with leukemia. Our idyllic life together ended all too soon.

Ollia and Stacey had each been the firebird of my life at different times and in different ways. Together they brought beauty to the life of a rootless kid from Brooklyn.

I was empty without Stacey who so easily filled the hole Marisa had left in my soul. Stacey had become my soul. And now she was gone.

Ollia sold the Brooklyn heights properties and retired to a place called Cassville in the pine barrens of New Jersey. The town was a large Russian summer community as well as a smaller year round Russian population. The Pushkin Retirement Home would be there for her if she could no longer live independently.

I visited her at least once a month.

 

My phone rang one evening. Zena told me Ollia had died. I stayed in Cassville for the three days of daily masses that precede the traditional Russian Orthodox funeral.

On the second day, Zena and I arrived early at the church. We lighted the candles we would hold during the mass. Zena looked askance at a woman who had just arrived. "She should not be here to bother you."

Marisa had aged as we all had. A long dark skirt and blue blazer gave her a serious yet romantic look.

 

Marisa approached me as Zena and I stood outside the church.

"I am sorry at your loss. My condolences. I wanted to get in touch with you when I read of Stacey’s untimely death. It was selfish of me not to."

"Thank you. Perhaps it wasn’t the right time. Please let me buy you a drink."

Zena quietly left us.

 

We sipped icy vodka. "Nas Terovye. To Ollia... who gave us so much."

"To Ollia," echoed Marisa.

A long silence.

"I’ve read about your success as an analyst. I hope you can forgive me. My altruism in refusing you was just selfish egotism.. God, I should have fast to you. I’ve been so lonely"

Another silence.

"Time has been good to you. You’ve grown more beautiful over the years."

"Thank you."

Another silence.

"Marisa, did you ever become a dance teacher?"

"Oh yes!" She became less awkward, "To make a long story short, I’ve got a school in New Hope. Quite the arty place. There is a large gay and transgender community. Here’s my card. Please call me. I would love to have you visit. It would be great place for you to retire to because you could still have as active or as limited practice as you like.

"I’m sorry Matt. I have no business talking as if you would ever want to be anywhere near me.

Would you resent it terribly if I stay for Ollia’s funeral tomorrow."

"Please do. We have room for you."

Zena clearly did not approve when I brought Marisa to Ollia’s home.

"Matt," she whispered to me after a maid showed Marisa to a guest bedroom. "Have you no understanding of that old proverb?"

"What old proverb?"

"Once bitten, twice shy. You really are looking to be hurt again."

Marisa had tears in her eyes as we walked from the cemetery to my car.

I drove her back to the church where she had left her car.

"Thank you for letting me stay." Her voice was choking as she fought back the tears.

I kissed her lightly on each cheek. "Ollia would have welcomed you."

"Even with all ..." She started to cry openly.

"Even a after all the mischief you caused."

I dabbed at her cheeks with my handkerchief. "I might not have had my years with Stacy had you accepted me.

"Are you okay to drive?"

"I’ll manage. I have to keep on managing"

She got in the car. I closed the door for her. She smiled up at me through her tears. "Please call. I mean it. Really."

I watched the car disappear as it headed north on route 571.

 

Zena chided for being a romantic fool as we ate our dinner.

After dinner I walked to the place in the woods where Ollia, Zena and I had buried Stacey’s ashes. There were tears on my cheeks when I returned.

A few weeks later I drove to Princeton where I was to participate in a discussion of Freudian analysis at Princeton University.

The discussion went well. I refused several dinner invitations promising to take them up on it another time. An offer of a tenure track faculty position would soon be forthcoming.

I got in my car and dialed the number of Marisa’s dance school.

"Marisa, Matt here. I’m in Princeton. I should be in New Hope in less than forty minutes. Do you know any good Chinese restaurants there?"

 

Marisa and I did develop a new life together. But that is a different story for a different day..

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Mardee Louise Prynne
martil340@aol.com

 

 

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