The Girl from Maurice’s      by: Emily Ross    © 2000      emily_ross_98@yahoo.com

 

I first noticed her in Maurice’s Wine Bar about 7.30 one Wednesday night. There were few customers in at that time of night. Most of those who came in straight from work had gone home to their wives. The young couples who frequented the place each evening wouldn’t start arriving for another hour.

There couldn’t have been more than 10 drinkers in the bar, mostly in twos and threes but I was one of lonely souls drinking on their own. So was she. Sitting on a bar stool at the end of the bar, she didn’t say a word but just sipped her drink slowly.

It was not uncommon to see men alone in Maurice's but it was rare to see women, particularly attractive women like her, drinking on their own. Sitting at a table on the other side of the room, I was looking straight at her. She on the other hand seemed to be staring at the bottles behind the bar, unaware of her surroundings, unaware of me.

I can still remember exactly what she was wearing that night; a powder blue top and black skirt. As she crossed her legs on the bar stool her tight skirt showed enough thigh to be interesting but not enough to be tarty. Her shapely legs were encased in black tights and on her feet she had strappy sandals. Again the heels were not so high as to make walking impossible and not so low as to suggest she was a blue stocking. Her make-up was neither reserved nor slutty.

She finished her drink, quietly and undemonstratively stood up, picked up her bag and left the bar, stepping carefully across the room. My eyes followed her but she didn't notice.

I was infatuated.

I was a regular in Maurice's in those days, popping in perhaps three or four times a week but I didn't see her again till the following Wednesday. She was sitting in the same seat at the bar, blonde hair hanging over her shoulders, this time wearing a pair of tight denim jeans and a pink jacket. Again she stared into the optics opposite her and paid no attention to her surroundings. After one drink she left before I had plucked up the courage to offer her one.

I was in love.

I spent the next week planning my tactics for the following Wednesday. I got there early and positioned myself three bar stools away from her stool. Sure enough I didn't have to wait long before she arrived and settled on her normal stool, revealing a little thigh as her skirt rode up. I cursed myself for not having the courage to sit on the stool next to hers, but then I might have frightened her off.

"Usual, Leah?" asked Maurice.

She nodded and he picked up a glass and pressed it against an optic. He took a small bottle from the cool cabinet, opened it and put it and the glass in front of her.

"One pound eighty, please, Leah," Maurice said as she nodded a polite thank you. She took a note from her purse and handed it over. She carefully studied her change before putting it in the purse that she placed in her handbag. She slipped her drink slowly while I played the game of looking at her out of the corner of my eye and trying not to make it obvious. She didn't seem to notice as she stared straight ahead of her. My hands were clammy as I waited for a moment to say hello and introduce myself, to buy her a drink and find out why she was so lonely and apparently so morose.

But before I had the opportunity she gulped down the last of her drink, picked up her bag and stood up. Perhaps she had anticipated my move and was leaving to avoid embarrassment. I turned and watched her leave the bar and head for the car park.

"Don't get too excited," said Maurice, as the door closed behind her. "It's a bloke."

It didn't really sink in. "She's a man?" I queried.

"Yes," the bartender replied matter-of-factly. "Leah's a transvestite. That's why he sits on that stool. He can see himself in the mirror behind the bar, check that he looks OK, that his make-up isn't smudged, that his hair is all right."

"I'd never have guessed," I said astonished. I finished my beer and headed for home. This was very unlike me as I normally stayed all evening but I couldn't get Maurice's words and Leah's image out of my head. Instead of being put off by the barman's information I was attracted even more. I wanted her more than ever.

The following week I broke the habit of a lifetime and drove to the wine bar. I parked in the car park and waited in the half-light for my quarry to arrive. Regular as clockwork, Leah arrived at the same time as last week, pulling up in a small blue Nissan. Unaware that I was watching her from my car, she checked her make-up in the mirror – this seemed to take ages – before getting out. She carefully locked the door and walked slowly towards the bar door. She was so feminine – it was hard to believe what Maurice had told me.

I waited a bit and wrote down her registration number. Then I went inside, ordered a beer and sat down at a table on the other side of the room where I could get a good view of Leah. She was on her usual stool, of course, sipping her drink and staring at her reflection. I doubt if she knew I was there.

Next day I contacted an old school friend of mine who was a police constable. Could he get me a name and address for a car registration? I didn’t tell him why and he didn’t ask. He knew there would be a drink in it for him and on the Friday he phoned me back with the details. The owner was a Steven Gaskell who lived about a mile away from me.

On the Saturday I went to my local library and checked the electoral roll for the address I’d been given. Sure enough there was only one registered elector, Steven Gaskell. I checked with the phone book and there was the name S. Gaskell and the address.

The following Wednesday I drove to this address and parked fifty or so yards down the road where I could get a good view of the house but wasn’t too conspicuous. There was no car on the drive and I wondered if I’d made a mistake when suddenly the garage door opened automatically from inside and the blue Nissan appeared. It stopped on the drive and the garage door closed automatically. The car then reversed onto the road. I could see Leah was at the wheel before it sped away.

I waited for a few minutes before driving to Maurice’s. Sure enough the Nissan was in the car park and she was on her usual stool staring at the mirror. I deduced that she must have been able to get into the garage from inside the house and could open and close the garage door by remote control. That way she doesn’t have to appear in public.

I watched her sip her drink and already plans were being drawn in my head. Did I dare phone her up? What would I say? A million ideas came into my head but none of them any good. Eventually after thinking about it for a few days with no good ideas, I decided just to ring her up and play it by ear.

It was Sunday morning. "Hello." A male voice answered the phone.

"Can I speak to Leah, please?"

"Who? Leah?" The man at the other end seemed surprised. "Yes I’ll get her for you. Leah," he called loudly.

There was a short delay. "Hello, who is it?" I heard a soft, nervous voice say.

"You don’t know me but my name’s Danny Tennant," I said, "I often go to Maurice’s wine bar. I’ve seen you in there…"

I paused. I didn’t know what to say. At the other end, Leah was just as puzzled. "And…" she said.

"I was wondering… I was wondering if you could help me dress as a girl." I don’t why I said that. I mean I hadn’t planned to say it. It just came out. I suppose I felt she might feel sorry for me.

"Have you ever dressed before?" she asked.

"No, I’ve never had the chance," I replied honestly, "but I’ve always wanted to," I lied.

"Look, can I think about it? What was your name again?" she asked me. I told her. "And your phone number?" I gave her the number. "Look I’ll think about it and ring you back, OK?"

I didn’t expect her to ring back. Girls never do and I hadn’t heard anything by Wednesday. I was at home preparing for a night at Maurice’s around six when she rang.

"Hello."

"Danny?"

"Yes."

"It’s Leah here," she said in a breathless, low voice. "I’d like to help you but I don’t know you. How can I trust you? Will you be in the wine bar later?"

"Yes," I replied. This was getting more positive.

"How will I recognise you?"

"Average height, thin, thirtyish, short dark hair."

"What’ll you be wearing?"

"I know. I’ve got a burgundy jacket. I’ll wear that. And I’ll be drinking a pint of Guinness. That should narrow it down."

"OK, listen," she said. "Don’t say anything to me in the wine bar. If you do they’ll think you some kind of pervert anyway. Wait till I leave. Five minutes after I’ve gone, come out to the car park. My car’s a blue Nissan. If I’m willing to help, I’ll still be there but if I’ve gone it’ll be because I’ve called the whole thing off. Five minutes mind, not four, not six, OK?"

"Yeah."

"And don’t you dare say anything to me in the wine bar or it’s off."

"I understand."

"And if I say no, don’t you dare ring me again, got it?"

"Yes."

"See you later," she said and rang off. My brain was in a whirr. I ran upstairs and had a quick shower. I had to look my best. I shaved and found my best shirt and newest jeans. I had to look my best for Leah. An hour later I was sitting in the wine bar, nervous as hell, with a pint of Guinness in front of me and feeling rather hot in my burgundy jacket. Would she come? Of course, she would. The door opened and in she stepped, looking as gorgeous as ever and made her way to her stool.

"Usual, Leah?" asked Maurice.

She nodded and he prepared the drink as usual. Was it my imagination or was her skirt shorter than usual? And her lipstick more red? Was that for me? No I was imagining it. She hadn’t even looked in my direction.

"One pound eighty, please, Leah," Maurice said as she slipped her drink. Fifteen minutes later she got up to leave. She hadn’t so much as glanced at me. Not a hint, not a smile, not a hope, I thought. I checked my watch. The seconds ticked by. My hands were very clammy. I was very nervous. Could I go through with this? Would she go though with this?

At four minutes and forty-five seconds, I stood up and headed for the car park, hoping against hope that she’d still be there and that Maurice wouldn’t choose that moment to look out of the window. I opened the bar door, then the outside door and wonder of wonders, there was the blue Nissan and she was sitting in it. I walked round to the passenger door, opened it and climbed in.

I was aware of a strong smell of perfume. For my benefit? "Hi," I said. "I’m Danny."

She smiled. It was dark but I could make out her smile. "Hi," she whispered, "I’m Leah." I noticed her legs. Even in the darkness I could see that her skirt seemed short - even shorter than before. Was this just the way she was sitting? Or had she changed for me? Was that why I had to wait five minutes? Still it wouldn’t be easy to change a skirt sitting in the front seat of a car.

"Your place or mine?" she asked.

"I don’t mind," I said. "My place is nearer."

"OK," she said, "but we’ll need some money first."

"Money?"

"Yes, if you’re to dress as a girly it will cost you." I’d temporarily forgotten this part of the bargain. "I’ll have to buy clothes, shoes, make-up, a wig, equipment." I shuddered as she mentioned this list. Equipment? What sort of equipment?

"How much do you want?"

"Two fifty…"

Two pounds fifty? That’s not much, I thought. No she means two hundred and fifty pounds.

"…to start with. Is that OK?"

"Yes," I said, "I’ve got it at home." I’d been saving for a new camera. It would have to wait.

She slipped the car into gear and drove off. "I hope you don’t mind but I’ve been snooping round to check up on you." Well, I’d done some snooping on her so I suppose that made it even. "A girl like me has to be careful. I found your address in the phone book and visited your neighbours – in male mode, of course. I told them I was from the police and that you’d applied for a licence to run a night-club. I asked them if they thought you were reliable, whether you had ever been violent, that sort of thing. I’m sorry but I had to do it."

"Don’t worry," I said a little shocked by her investigations, "but what do I do when they ask me about my night club?"

"Just say you’re a sleeping partner. Anyway, they all think the world of you. It’s very good of you to look after the cat while Mrs Whatshername is away. But I still wanted to see you this evening as I had to make sure that you were about my size – otherwise I’d never be able to help."

We arrived at my house and she parked on the drive behind my car. If any of the neighbours were twitching their net curtains, they might have thought I was inviting one of the partners in my night-club in for discussions. I helped her carry a suitcase from the boot. Did it contain ‘equipment?’ I opened the front door and we stepped inside. It was the first time I’d seen Leah from close to in the light. She was beautiful and she was wearing a shorter skirt.

"Coffee?" I asked.

She nodded and we went into the kitchen. While the kettle was boiling I found £250 and handed it over to her. We sipped our coffee in the living room.

"You’ve never dressed, Danny?" she asked me, "as a woman, I mean."

"No."

"Not even your sister’s stuff or your mum’s stuff when you were a kid?"

"Sometimes," I lied.

"Me, too," she said, "then when I moved here I didn’t dress for three years. I suppose I was in denial. I just wanted to be one of the boys. You know, macho. Then one day I was shopping and I saw this beautiful dress in a shop window. I knew I just have to have it. I went in and bought it for my ‘girlfriend.’ That started it and just look at me now. You’re in denial, aren’t you?"

"I suppose I am," I lied.

"Don’t you get stressed?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"I dress as Leah about three or four times a week. If I don’t, I get really stressed out but as soon as put a skirt on I feel totally relaxed. I don’t know why I go to Maurice’s but I suppose it’s my way of saying, ‘Look at me, I can pass as a girl.’ I love sitting on that stool knowing men are looking me, looking at my face, my hair, my legs, my body. It gives me a feeling of power. It can be a bind though if men start hitting on me. That’s when Maurice is a real help. If any bloke seems to fancy me, he warns them off."

"Yes," I said.

"It’s not easy being a tranny," she said, "but it’s fun." She smiled. She had a lovely smile. "Talking of trannies," she went on, "it’s time we got to work on you." I gulped. "I hope you’re not pretending. I met a guy a couple of years ago who asked me to help him dress. It turned out that he only wanted to get inside my knickers in another way. You’re not like that, are you?"

"No," I lied.

"Men don’t seem to understand. Just because I like wearing skirts, it doesn’t mean I’m interested in them."

I nodded. My evening was a disaster. I’d lost £250, I’d have to dress as a girl and the object of my attentions wasn’t even interested in men. It was too late to call it off.

"By the way, do you have a girl name?" she asked me.

"No," I said.

"Well, you could be Danielle. Is that too obvious? What about Sophie? I like that name. Do you?"

"OK," I said. I was past minding.

Leah opened her suitcase and brought out a bottle. "Right, Sophie," she said to me, "be a good girl and take a shower. Rub this stuff all over your body. Leave it for five minutes and then wash it off. It’ll remove all the hair. When you get out, put this on." She held out a piece of ‘equipment.’ "It’s called a gaff. You put it over your cock, take it between your legs and tie it round your waist. It gives you a flat front; I wear one all the time. At least I do when I’m Leah. These panties should fit." She handed me a pair of white cotton panties with a small lace trim. "Then come back here. OK?"

I had no choice and a few minutes later all my body hair was disappearing down the plug-hole. I exited from the bathroom shivering in just my gaff and panties, Leah was waiting for me in the living room.

"I bet you’re dying to get some clothes on but you’ll need some boobs first. These are called breastforms. Glued to your chest, they are very realistic." She proceeded to glue the breastforms to my chest. "It’s OK. You can get them off quite easily but now you’ll need a bra," she added helpfully. I had feared that I would. She searched in the suitcase and found one that matched my panties.

She helped me put the bra on, doing it up at the back. She found a pair of black tights. I sat on the sofa, rolled the tights into a ‘doughnut’ and pulled them up my legs. Amazingly my hairless legs looked really nice in the tights. I was also surprised to find that I liked the feel of the nylon against my skin.

"Stand up," she said as she pulled a white petticoat out of the suitcase. I got off the sofa and she put the petticoat over my head. I pulled it down and smoothed it over my butt. It was very short. Was this the length of things to come?

It obviously was as she pulled a black dress from the suitcase. "I chose this one, because the material is very stretchy it fits all sizes. It really clings to your body. That’s why it’s my favourite dress but I’ve never worn it to Maurice’s – it’s much too short. She placed the dress over my head and pulled it down. It was, like she said, short but at least I was a little warmer.

I was surprised how comfortable and soft the clothes felt. I walked around the room a little noticing the swish of the petticoat against the tops of my thighs. This wasn’t nearly as bad as I’d thought.

Leah then said that she’d do my make up. As I sat on a chair in the middle of the room, she set to work on my face with cosmetics extracted from the suitcase. First she plucked my eyebrows a little, then she put on foundation and blusher, then eye-shadow, eye-liner and mascara. She finished with a bright lipstick. Then she found a shoulder-length, brunette wig and put it on my head. She sprayed it and brushed it this way and that until she was happy.

I was dying to see how I looked but Leah wasn’t done. She painted my fingernails a deep red and while they were drying found a gold necklace, a bracelet and a pair of clip-on ear-rings. Finally she asked me, "What size shoe are you? Eight? These are a seven so they might be a little tight."

She handed me a pair of black ankle boots with a three-inch heel. I sat down on the sofa and put them on, all the time conscious that I was wearing a short dress. They were tight but they fitted. I stood up. It was awkward standing in the boots but I felt good. I walked around the room again.

"You look stunning," Leah said, "and so feminine." She looked at her watch. "Look, it’s getting late. I’d better be going." My feminisation had taken nearly two hours. "Tomorrow evening I’ll go shopping to buy you some things. I’ll come round on Friday night with them. Will seven o’clock be OK?"

I didn’t have time to answer. She went on, "You can hang on to my stuff till then. Don’t forget to take your make-up off before you go to bed. Goodnight, Sophie."

She walked towards me and gave me a hug. Then she gave me a little kiss on the cheek. Just when I thought she was going to leave she kissed me on the mouth. Suddenly her tongue was forcing my lips apart. Our lips and tongues were rubbing. I could taste her lipstick and I’m sure she could taste mine. The kiss got more passionate as she felt my back and I responded the same way.

Next she was lifting my dress at the back and feeling my butt. She pulled up my petticoat and tugged my tights and panties down a bit. She massaged my buttocks and the kiss continued. I lifted the hem of her skirt with one hand and felt the tops of her thighs. I could feel myself getting aroused and knew that the gaff could not hold my cock between my legs much longer.

Just as suddenly as it had begun the kiss ended. "Goodnight, Sophie," said Leah, "see you Friday."

"Goodnight, Leah, but I thought you weren’t interested in men."

"Sophie, honey, take a look in the mirror. You ain’t no man."

She went to the front door, opened it, turned to me and winked and then left. I heard her car leave and then I looked in the mirror. OK so my lipstick was smudged but Leah was right. Looking back was no man but an attractive young woman. Instead of rushing upstairs to change back into my man things I stayed dressed as Sophie for the rest of the evening. I looked in Leah’s suitcase and examined all the contents. There was a baby-doll nightie there that I wore to sleep in that night.

The following evening when I got in from work I changed into a dear little skirt and blouse outfit. Of course I wasn’t able to do my make-up as well as Leah but I loved my new look. I couldn’t wait for Leah to come round on Friday.

 

© 2000
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