Lady Writer

by Abby Rhodes

6

 

Fifi gave a wan smile. "I always wanted to start my story like that but it's not quite true. One of the reasons I wanted to tell my story today is that it's my birthday. I turned thirty at midnight and that makes about twenty-five years of trying to be someone else. I'm not going to tell you the name my parents gave me, because that person hasn't existed for a long time. I have had a few names, mainly only first ones, and those include Suzy, Jane, and Chloe. For the record, I'm thinking of abandoning Fifi and going back to Eva. Eva was a name I used once before and always liked. The trouble is I've grown attached to Fifi as well. It's the name I used the first time I went to the Club.

"I was born and raised in New York. My parents were the poorest people living in a good neighbourhood. My mother inherited a large house from an aunt, but the sole family income was what my father made as a bookkeeper. With the wisdom of hindsight they should have sold the house immediately and moved somewhere else where they could afford to live because living in that house meant they had a constant struggle to make ends meet.

"My problems started with my brothers, who got involved in crime, mainly drug dealing, while they were still teenagers, but because I was ten years younger than them I didn't really catch on to what was happening around me until much later. My parents knew, of course, because they were constantly getting calls from the police to get my brothers out of jail, and having to hire lawyers eroded their financial situation even further. The only thing I've ever been able to think of in my brother's defence, was that they probably reacted badly to never having enough money."

"My mother was - still is - a wonderful woman. We were very close until I had to leave home when I was thirteen. Ever since I was just a little kid I adored my mother, and she treated me with the utmost kindness and consideration right up until I left home.

"I was in the habit of going through her things when she was out, and I fell in love with her lingerie quite early on. She was like your mother, Anna. She had great taste in underwear and tried hard to look good when she went out. She visited her wide circle of friends but we hardly ever left the house to go to things like movies or restaurants. That was because we couldn't afford to."

"I did quite well at school, because I was reasonably clever, and everything went well, more or less, until I was thirteen. Imagine that I was much the same as I am now, that is, leggy, slim but not quite as tall, and addicted by then to wearing women's clothes whenever I could. My mother didn't know because I'd always been careful. The house had six bedrooms and a lot of storage areas so there was plenty of room for me to keep a small collection of clothing I'd found around the house in discard bags or borrowed long term from the neighbour's clotheslines. It wasn't much but I needed to keep it well hidden."

"My brothers became more brutal and hardened as they got older and regarded me as a sissy, called me a sissy, simply because I was close to our mother. By the time I got to ten they were routinely beating me up for sport and one of the reasons why I did well at school was that I spent so much time there, afraid to go home. My mother didn't know about the boys and when I tried to tell her she thought I was exaggerating boyish behaviour.

"My father had finally given up on trying to make it in office work, because he could never keep up with the cost of living. As I said, the property was quite valuable but the upkeep and outgoings were more than he could handle. To cut a long story short, he decided he could make more money by helping my brothers in their enterprises. They sucked my father in by describing easy money for little effort and minimal risk.

"Unfortunately, my father wasn't very good at crime and what John and Kevin hadn't told him was that they were under pressure from a local hood who regarded the entire neighbourhood as his personal territory. Pop only lasted about two months before he was beaten to a bloody pulp and subsequently lived, or tried to, on welfare while confined to a wheelchair. That left Mom with a huge problem if John and Kevin didn't make any money.

"My personal turning point came one day when I thought I was alone for a few hours. Kevin was in jail for a few months, Pop was at the hospital and Mom was helping him, pushing his wheelchair, and John was supposed to be on the Upper East Side doing God knows what. I took the opportunity to break out my stash of clothes and was in the process of pulling up my favourite panties when I heard a voice behind me say, 'My God, you really are a sissy.'

"John, that violent, cretinous son-of-a-bitch, didn't waste any time. He beat me into unconsciousness and left me bleeding in the hallway, still dressed in the panties and a slip I'd taken from Mrs. Hotchkiss's clothesline. He'd taken the liberty of crudely applying make-up as well, so when my folks arrived home, this painted and bleeding pathetic would-be girl was still lying there unconscious. The outcry was totally predictable. My father went ballistic and my mother went into a crying jag that went on for three days. She forgave me and eventually we got back to a good relationship, except that I had to leave the house immediately so my father and brothers wouldn't be traumatised any further by my presence.

"I was lucky that my mother was able to come up with a temporary, or so she thought, solution. If she'd thought about it harder, it would have been obvious to her that there was no way on God's green earth that my father and brothers would ever consent to being in the same house as me. Mom's sister, who lived in Boston – she moved to New York about a year ago - agreed to take me under her wing, to look after me for an indeterminate period. Aunt Blythe was Mom's youngest sister, and lived up to her name in some ways. She was about forty-five. Mom made a mistake in telling her why I'd had to leave home, so our relationship started strangely.

"Aunt Blythe had been married briefly but her husband had been killed in an accident. His death had traumatised her to the point she was unfit to look after herself, let alone me, and I soon had new and interesting experiences.

"For a start, she decided that if I wanted to dress in lingerie, then by God she would punish me by insisting I dressed in lingerie. That was actually the astounding part. She enrolled me at a girl's school and made me – made me – buy girls clothes for school and to wear around the house. She chose a school with a standard uniform and saw that I had everything I'd need to fit in, and sent me off.

"I loved it of course; it was everything I'd ever dreamed of. The school didn't know about my background because Blythe simply enrolled me and told them how clever I was but never produced the records from previous schools they asked for. She fobbed them off with excuses and they finally gave up asking for them after a year. By then I had proved I was clever and intelligent; clever to never get found out and smart enough to be a top achiever and also to be ever watchful. If it had been a boarding school I'd have been in trouble, but it wasn't.

"Through high school I topped classes and then I went on to college and topped classes. I did a degree in Art History and I thought I had the whole world sorted out. How wrong I was."

Fifi stopped for breath and I poured more drinks. Danielle and I hadn't spoken a word so far, except for the occasional 'Jesus Christ' or 'My God'. Fifi was looking a little bit tearful and I told her it was okay to stop and carry on another night, or even never. She shook her head and said, "No, I need to finish. The worst part is still coming."

 

Fifi continued, "I got my Masters degree, completed a Ph. D and I was ready to take on the world. Aunt Blythe's mental health wasn't great. As I said, she was still mourning her husband after twenty-something years and she'd become forgetful and vague. She also seemed to have forgotten that I was a boy.

"After a year or two of me living with her she got tired of the never-ending talks about being 'what God intended us to be' and just treated me like a girl. It was kind of strange when I realised what had happened, but I had no complaints. I believe that once I started getting part-time jobs and actually contributed to the household costs it all became less important and we settled down into a pleasant Aunt/Niece relationship.

"Unknown to me at the time, Blythe's husband had been killed in an accident on a construction site and she'd had a multimillion dollar payout from the contractor's insurance company. In fact, she was quite rich, but often forgot she was, so anything I put into the household costs was gratefully received. Then again, sometimes she remembered she had the money and we had some fabulous shopping sprees.

"Mom rang once in a while to see how I was and I remember Blythe being confused one day because when Mom asked after me; she didn't connect her nephew with Suzy. That's what Aunt Blythe called me as part of her punishment for dressing like a girl.

"I had this wardrobe bulging with nice clothes and I had all the lingerie I could ever have wanted. I formed some good relationships with the girls at school and in college and we did the usual girl stuff like hanging out in malls and going to the movies. Life was pretty good for a long time and I was very happy apart from wondering if Blythe was going to go batty on me.

"But girls are attracted to boys, and vice versa. I was lucky because I never really sprouted body hair in quantity and only ever shaved about once a fortnight. (I had the lot removed while I was in college thanks to Aunt Blythe). Because my hair is naturally white blonde you didn't really notice it anyway.

"I started dating cautiously once in a while, especially when I got to college, then more often as I got confident. I once overheard a guy refer to me as the Virgin Queen because I wouldn't have sex with him, and strangely enough I wouldn't even let him grope me. Believe me when I say that this was a problem for me. I'd been a girl for so long that I didn't relate to my own gender even slightly, but I knew no good would come of telling any of these guys what my real situation was. By this time, apart from my breasts, I looked exactly like I do now, and I wanted to be treated like a girl and loved like one. I'd give a guy a blow job if I really liked him and if he treated me with respect and I got good at it. But frustration set in and I made a huge mistake when Dan came along.

"Dan was a nice guy, or so every girl thought. He was very good looking, allegedly rich and very caring. He didn't push any of the girls he dated into doing something they didn't want to, even though many would have done it if he'd asked. Opinion was divided about whether he was kind and considerate or just inexperienced. He asked me out while I was very near completing my Ph. D and he treated me very well. He didn't know I was a boy and never tried to get into my panties. He said he had Christian values and was saving himself for the right girl and that impressed me quite a lot because the rest of the planet seemed to be full of guys whose only aim in life was fucking.

"We were going steady after three months and he was always gentle, caring and kind to me. Then one night he announced that he had been offered a job in New York and intended to move there, but he wanted me to go with him and wanted to marry me. I was flattered to the point I forgot what I really was and I agreed to marry him and move to New York.

"Blythe drew her mental faculties together long enough to gently remind me I was still a boy. She was quite wonderful in supporting me, but she rightly persisted in telling me the relationship was probably doomed. She persuaded me to tell Dan about myself so I did. I remember thinking, 'Wow, despite knowing my secret he still wants to be with me'. I can still remember the look on his face when I told him and it took a day, but he decided he was in love with me whatever I was and that was that.

"Since Dan seemed sincere, I elected to go to New York and try the relationship out. Did we have sex? Yes, we did. If I say so myself, I give very good oral sex and I'm sure some of my college dates would attest to that. I also allowed Dan to have anal sex with me, and after I got used to it, I really began to enjoy it. Dan did too.

"The rot set in when Dan lost his job. I say he lost his job but I'm not convinced that he ever really had one. We'd only been in the city for a few months when it happened but he'd been a little shifty when I asked how it was all going and I never saw any money coming in. I'd been able to get a sales job at Lord & Taylor while I looked for a job in the art world but that didn't pay all the bills. Among other things, the stories about Dan being rich turned out to be so much crap. He started drinking, hanging around in seedy bars and there was even less money than usual. It started to be a little like living at home again.

"He gradually turned into a prick of a guy and he started bitching about me going to the Club. Then one night he came home drunk at around eleven with three of his friends from the bar. He said something like, 'Honey, our money worries are over. Each of these guys will give us fifty bucks if you give them a blow job.' I took him into the kitchen and asked him if he had lost his senses. His response was to slap me and knock me to the floor.

'We're flat broke, honey. Just suck them off and we'll survive another day. If you don't, or if you don't do a good job, I'll beat the shit out of you. Just get out there and do it. Oh, I told them you'd wear some of that pretty lingerie you like so much, so go and get changed, honey.'

"No amount of pleading worked, he just hit me again. I finally went and put on a black satin teddy and did as I was told. It was that or be beaten up, and I'd already had enough of that from my brothers.

"To put it bluntly, I was terrified. The guys weren't that bad. All they wanted was an orgasm, and once I gave them one they paid Dan and left, thanking him and offering to send their friends around. Once they left I told Dan I was going to bed and I locked myself in the bedroom.

"I was devastated by the whole incident. I cried myself to sleep after gargling fifty times to try and clean my throat. It was horrible. When I unlocked the bedroom door the next morning it was to find Dan crying uncontrollably and apologising non-stop for his behaviour, but it was all part of his plan, and because he had a few dollars for beer everything was fine. I didn't know what to do. I had no close friends because we hadn't been in New York all that long. I thought of ringing Blythe, but I didn't know how I could put it to her, or even if she was capable of understanding.

"Things sort of got back to normal for a week or so, until Dan came up with his big idea. For some time I'd wanted to get breast implants and I'd brought it up many times as a means of enhancing his, and my, pleasure. Dan played on that beautifully. He said that I should go ahead as soon as we had the money, but of course we didn't have any. The solution was obvious. If guys would pay fifty dollars for a blow job, what were we waiting for? I told him flat-out, 'no'.

"Dan got petulant, but said he'd respect my decision. What a prick he was. He turned up the next night with three guys, including one of the three who had been there the first time. This time he'd offered them the choice of a blow job for fifty bucks or anal sex for a hundred and twenty. Only one chose the blow job. I took Dan to the kitchen again and he put one hand around my throat and raised his fist to me and told me to do it or face the consequences. His face reminded me of my brother John and I was seriously scared. He made me put on a pair of panties he had ripped the crotch out of so my anus was exposed and told the guys to pay him and get stuck in. The blow job was intolerable enough, but the anal sex for money was totally humiliating. How could a guy who claimed to love me do this?

"Worse was to come. He wasn't going to be shut out of the bedroom this time and smashed the door open and raped me. He took all my clothes except my lingerie and dumped everything in the garbage downstairs. He told me to expect to be able to get my tits done in about a month and to keep my ass greased, because it was time to get rich. I argued, but he hit me again and then tied me to the bed and raped me again. I started to scream and he made good on his promise to knock me unconscious. And so Dan became a professional pimp. Naturally I lost my job because I couldn't get out of the house.

"The next night he came home with another three men who paid for anal sex, and I believe that's what he was advertising. Blow jobs didn't pay enough for him. That set the tone for the next three months. A steady stream of guys passed through the apartment every night and finally Dan declared that we had enough money for my breasts. He took me to a clinic that apparently wasn't too concerned about who they operated on as long as the money was good. I had a lot of mental conflict, because I wanted breasts but by then I feared Dan would only use them to boost his income.

"I still remember that day, the day all the dressings came off and I looked at my new breasts and I was so proud of them. Dan only said, 'They should look good at that price. Get your bag.' Looking back, I should have escaped from the hospital, but I was focused on these and I was in a very poor mental state."

Fifi pulled her top out and looked down at her cleavage. "I know it was a mistake, but it's the only part of that relationship I appreciate.

"Things got a bit worse after that. Dan gave me a week to heal and then started bringing men home again. He upped the price to seventy-five for a blow job and a hundred and fifty for anal sex. I was afraid that I might get some kind of disease, like AIDS, because Dan told everyone they didn't have to use a condom. Nonetheless, quite a few preferred to. Jesus, it was horrible. I wanted to escape but I was locked in the bedroom when Dan went out. He even complained about how much it cost to get the door fixed, the one he broke down.

I finally took matters into my own hands one night, the night you took me home, Anna. That prick brought home client after client and he took more than a thousand dollars. I decided enough was enough so I pretended to be tired at the end of the evening and sat in a chair and closed my eyes. That fat prick kept counting the money and I waited and waited until he finally went to sleep in his easy chair. When he did I smashed him over the head with a full bottle of whiskey.

"I left the building wearing a camisole and a miniskirt he missed when he threw my clothes out and I headed for the Club. All I had was what I was wearing, all the cash I could find in the house - a substantial amount - and a suitcase full of lingerie. The French Maid uniforms? Fair question. Do you remember the guy who calls himself Jane Austen? She used to come to the Club dressed in clothes from her era. All black and bustled? He worked for a costume distributor and that week he was peddling French Maid uniforms. He probably still wonders where his sample case went.

"So that's it really. You brought me back here after those thugs attacked me and I've been here ever since. I have to confess to a small exaggeration about wanting to be a French Maid, but I wore the uniforms because they fitted me and suited me and because I didn't have anything else. Then I found out I loved them, and that just wearing them and doing the housework and cooking were major therapy for me. I had no demands or pressures on me for the first time since I left college and I could focus on just me. Like I said, Anna, I can never repay you properly, but I'm pleased that you and Danielle are together and I think you make a wonderful couple. Are you considering getting married?"

"We haven't discussed it, but who knows?" I said.

"Well if you do, I've always wanted to be a bridesmaid."

We laughed then, but it had been a sobering story. Danielle looked shocked through much of it and had squeezed my hand so tightly it was still smarting. I found the whole story appalling and I wanted to find Dan and have him put down. I mentioned as much to Fifi and she smiled and simply said, "As I understand it, he didn't quite survive the whiskey."

Once again we both turned pale, but Fifi didn't seem fazed. I would never be able to look at her in the same light again.

"One other thing I should mention," said Fifi, "just to tie everything up. I am Aunt Blythe's sole beneficiary and I will be very well off when the cheque arrives, probably in a month or two.

"My mother turned up at Blythe's funeral. My father is now suffering from Parkinsons, is in a very bad way and won't be around for very much longer. My brothers are both missing, presumed dead. Anyway, she's finally selling the house in the city. She's decided to move south and find a small place to take Pop, a place where she can sit and watch the sea from her veranda after he goes. She said she'd give me part of the proceeds from the sale of the house and eventually I'll inherit her estate as well.

"She did clear up one question I had. She managed to keep the big house going after all that trouble because she stumbled across an enormous bundle of cash just after John left the house, never to be seen again. She had no doubt it was the proceeds of crime but by then she figured she'd earned it."

"Did you ever think about a full sex change, Fifi?" Danielle asked.

"Often, and I still might do it very soon, but I haven't finished thinking yet. I haven't had much pleasure from having a penis and I envy you the fun you have with yours, Anna. The more I think about it, the more I think I'm probably destined for full transexuality, probably in Thailand. I'm in a better position to be rational about it now. You can't make good decisions when you're in a state of mental anguish. I felt so dirty for such a long time and quite ashamed of my body. I must say that telling the story has made me feel a lot better."

"I wish I could say the same," said Danielle. "I think it's the worst story I've ever heard." She got up and hugged Fifi. "You poor darling. I'm so glad Anna found you and brought you home. I feel quite tearful." She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue and then poured another round of drinks. I didn't feel very hungry after that and I don't think anyone else did either.

It was two in the morning when we finally went to bed, and Danielle and I just lay there and held each other close and thought our own thoughts, mostly about being thankful we were never treated as badly as Fifi had been.

  

  

  

*********************************************
© 2003 by Abby Rhodes. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, and compilation design) may be printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without the express written consent of StorySite and the copyright holder.