Lady Writer

by Abby Rhodes

9

 

"Listen to me carefully, Anna," said Fifi. "You've been looking at me with lust in your eyes for a long time. I've said it before and I'll say it again now - I really appreciate the help and support you gave me after I moved into your house. You never once made an inappropriate move on me or a made a thoughtless or careless remark and I know that was because you regarded me as still partly male and you preferred girls. I believe they call that heterosexuality. On top of that you're basically a gentleman, if that word can be applied to someone dressed like you are at the moment, but you know what I mean

"I, on the other hand, wouldn't have said 'No' at any time since the middle of last year, and when Danielle came along I got quite despondent because you had such a good relationship with her. Since then I've had the total makeover and I am now a girl in every respect, right down to my toes. That means you can get off your heterosexual high-horse and have a relationship with me that includes hot, sweaty sex and lots of loving.

"One thing I want to make clear is that I don't feel responsible for your break-up with Danielle. That was the result of you wanting me, and I confess that when it came down to you choosing between us I was never going to say 'Go, go with her, I'll be okay' but it didn't come to that. Danielle was very perceptive when it came to you and me, but I don't want any silly regrets on your part. I also don't want a relationship based on lust alone. I'm a nice girl thinking I'd like to have a nice boyfriend who appreciated me for my mind and not just my body."

I stopped to think. "Fair enough, Fifi," I said. "I haven't noticed any regrets, more a sense of guilt, but you're quite right about Danielle; she was astute enough to know what I was thinking even when I didn't know what I was thinking. My only concern is that she's still my agent, but I believe that won't be a problem. She's a professional and I'm her most prolific and profitable author so I'm sure she'll continue to look after me."

Then I saw her grin. I said, "I swear I've never noticed your body, Fifi. Honestly, it was always your mind I was after. My God, look at that, you do have a body. How come I missed that? Why, it's all rounded, and, and, and, … rounded."

"Good. I think we should have a relationship starting about right now. Having said that, I want to take things slowly and build a relationship based on mutual love and trust. You know - all that soppy, romantic stuff that normal people have."

I pretended to be shocked. "We're normal? The transsexual and the transvestite? Thank God for that! I though we were abnormal, or at least unusual. Well, that's a relief."

"Shut up and drink your wine, Anna."

We laughed. I liked the idea of building up a relationship, taking it slow for a while. Just a moment! Did that mean no sex?

"Just a moment!' I said. "Does that mean no sex? That hot, sweaty sex you were talking about?"

"Don't be silly, Anna. I want to try my installation out as soon as possible. I'm dying to know what sex feels like. I want to be penetrated."

It was a shame she said that as I took a drink, because it went down and out both ways, choking me and coming out my nose at the same time.

"That's disgusting, Anna. One little mention of sex and you lose control. Here, let me wipe that off your chin."

"Thank you, Fifi. Penetrated you say? My, that's a word you don't hear very often."

"I didn't say penetrated, I said penetrated."

"So you did. And so I shall. Can I just say one thing, or two things really? Firstly, I like the idea of romantic love as opposed to mere lust, although there's a lot to be said for lust as a pastime and it shouldn't be dismissed out of hand. Secondly, my skirt has developed a sort of lump at the front. Thirdly – how many things did I say? – since you crossed all the way over and then started the Gallery, you've become more poised, confident and more beautiful than you were before. I'll always treasure the memory of you in a French Maid's uniform standing by the sink or in the living room, or anywhere at all for that matter, but to see you now that you've taken the final step is breathtaking."

Fifi hit me gently on the arm. "Aw shucks, mister. You sure do have a silver tongue."

I had a thought. "What about a bronze statue for the garden – you in a French Maid's uniform holding a feather duster?"

"You're pushing it, Anna. Quit while you're ahead."

We toasted each other and did some more sort of star-crossed gazing at one another. We never quite got around to ordering food and half an hour later we went on home.

I'd never seen Fifi naked although I'd seen many parts of her from time to time. The picture is worth preserving for posterity, possibly in oils, framed and hanging in the Met. This girl was everything a man could dream of and more. When we finally got as far as the bedroom, she asked me to wait while she undressed so I stood there in purple satin lingerie and stockings. She slowly removed what she was wearing, peeling off each garment almost like a stripper who wasn't subject to a time limit, and as she revealed more and more Fifi I became more excited. I mean excited. She finished disrobing and stood there with her arms raised, showing herself off.

"What do you think, Anna? Will I do?"

"Do? I'm speechless. Fifi, you're magnificent."
I took her in my arms and kissed her passionately. Somehow my panties disappeared and shortly afterwards, I penetrated her, which we both found very pleasurable indeed. I won't go into long descriptions of hot and sweaty sex, but trust me, there was a lot of it.

It went on for some days as I abandoned writing and Fifi failed to open the Gallery, but we finally calmed down and started acting normally. It probably sounds trite to say I was head over heels, but that's how it felt to me and that's how Fifi said she felt. It was like something that had been planned for years had finally been consummated, to use an appropriate phrase.

Once we settled down some we took a day to evaluate where we were going and what we were going to do together and separately, talking about what was important to each of us. I should add that we sat around talking in short satin chemises without any panties on in case we had the urge to indulge in something.

Fifi asked me one question to which I had to give some deep thought. She was curious about how far I was going to go with my appearance as a woman. She thought I'd reached the stage where most cross-dressers stop because the only thing to do next involved surgery.

Surprisingly enough I'd never thought about it in any detail. I'd always been happy to just go along with a gradual transformation, but, taking a dispassionate look, I'd been depilated to the max, I had a great head of red hair and I seldom appeared without make-up (I didn't need make-up to look like a girl any more - my feminine hairstyle took care of that) and girl's clothing, even around the house, and I had a great pair of legs. In fact I was always a woman unless I was forced into something appropriate to Ryan King, he-man author. Damn it, I identified myself as a woman. Ryan was starting to interfere with my lifestyle, if you get my drift. Still, it was only once in a while and I could live with it looking like I did now. That is, fabulous.

Breasts would logically be the next step in a planned transformation, but that was going further than I'd ever considered going. It would mean Ryan King could never look convincingly male again and he was already having trouble at public appearances. I put that question aside because I didn't have an answer. I loved my looks and I loved wearing lingerie and every kind of female clothing but I was definitely set in the male camp sexually. I had a gorgeous new blonde friend and an almost permanent erection. The neat thing was that I didn't have to hold myself back anymore. I could sit Fifi down on my knee and let my erection press into her backside and run my hands over whatever part of her I wanted to and we were both loving it.

But as Ryan, I was going to be called on more and more to make public appearances. There was a movie and a screenplay and that meant conferences and meetings, more people seeing me and more people who might say, 'Wow, you look just like Anna Ryan, my favourite erotic story writer. Are you related?'

Fifi just wanted to run the Gallery and make it a success. She laid out her business plan and told me how she intended to attract established artists for regular showings. I pledged my support and laid out my plans for the next year. It was obvious we'd be separated occasionally. I had a tour to do as Anna Ryan, erotic novelist. I wanted to go to London and Paris for a break, probably next spring, to research locations for my next book, for about eight weeks, and Fifi wanted to come too. She wondered if we could fit in a side trip to Venice because she wanted to show me around. For that long a break she'd get someone to look after the gallery. If she was going to succeed in the art world she had to be open for business on a regular basis and would probably go to seven days a week from next week until Christmas. One of her plans was to hire a reliable and knowledgeable assistant to work three days a week and now and then give Fifi a longer break for perhaps a week or ten days or cover her for trips to Europe.

I had to finish off my life story, Say High to Heels, and Silk Skins, the new Anna Ryan erotic novel, was about a third finished. Heels would take to the end of the next week and Silk Skins should be finished by the end of the next month, then I could please myself what I did next. I already had the germ of an idea for the follow-up to Dead Right and that was why I needed to check out Paris and London. Venice with a sexy blonde sounded really great.

Four days after I watched Fifi undress and the day after we discussed our plans, Fifi went down to the gallery to take care of some business and I sat down to work on Say High to Heels.

Fifi and I made a deal about clothes in amongst all that stuff about plans. If we wanted to and it fitted, we could wear each others stuff. Fifi probably got the better of the deal because I had a vastly bigger wardrobe accumulated over many years while she'd only recently started to build her wardrobe up. What she had that I liked was a whole heap of nightgown and negligee sets I was dying to try. Everyday girl stuff didn't work as well as I would have liked because Fifi was curvier than me and looked good in clothes made for a woman closer to a more traditional hourglass shape, whereas I was slimmer and could fit into designer stuff better than she could. I tried some of the nylon chiffon confections because they didn't care how curvy a girl was or wasn't and I liked the results. I settled on a black Miss Elaine set and wandered off to my study to write.

Say High to Heels was fun to write because it brought back so many things I'd forgotten about from my early days when I was just finding my way around girl's things. I'd been lucky because my sisters had helped me along but there were times when I floundered.

I decided to talk to Uncle Arthur. As a cross-dresser for many more years than me, he must have a few stories to tell.

Uncle Arthur, a retired property developer, had been forced by my mother to wear girl's clothes from the time he was very small (I perhaps should use the word persuaded rather than forced. There were no threats and no coercion involved, my mother just needed someone to play the child while she and her other brother David played happy families. As it happened, she wanted a little girl for that fantasy, not a little boy.) Uncle Arthur never quite made it back into anything male except when he had to. I suppose that was true of me as well. He goes by the name Louise and I called him up.

"Louise?"

"It is. And who do I have the pleasure of speaking to?"

"Your nephew, Anna. How are you, Louise?"

"Couldn't be better. Are you still with that girl Danielle?"

"Not any more, Louise. I'm with a girl called Fifi now."

"Fifi? Your father told me about Fifi, Anna. Never heard him sound quite so, er .. I think besotted would be the word I'm looking for."

"He certainly fell her spell. Listen, Louise, I'm just writing my life story and I thought I'd get your thoughts on living as a girl. Or do you want to be referred to as a woman?"

"I'll always be a girl, Anna. Women are older and lack the ability to think dangerously. They become conservative. On the other hand, girls can do anything."

Wow. Fighting words.

"You must have been in some tight situations, Louise. You were ahead of your time being an active and unrepentant cross-dresser from the fifties on. Can you tell me about it?"

"Of course I can, Anna. Sit back and listen."

Louise talked for nearly an hour and her story is too good not to share. It went like this.

 

"Bear in mind that I was born in 1946 and things were a little different back then. I think my sister first had me in a frock when I was about two. Even when she was quite small she was what you would call wilful. If she wanted something, that was how it was and no argument. She could get a steely look in her eye just like her mother, that is, your grandmother. I bet she hasn't told you this but she liked to spank me as well if she thought I'd misbehaved. David was different. He loved being the father in our games and Cynthia let him be the man.

"Cynthia had me dress up in her old clothes, which fitted me quite well, but as we got older she raided my mother's wardrobe and dressing table and I could be seen in some strange outfits. Interestingly, I preferred to wear stuff appropriate to my own age, but, having said that, my mother had some incredibly good lingerie.

"As the fifties wore on, Cynthia moved with the fashion times and I got to wear all those neat big skirts and petticoats. I loved the rock and roll era and I admit that I never got over it completely. Even now I sometimes wear three petticoats and a circle skirt, a tight wool top with a wide waist-cinching belt and three inch stilettos while I practice dance steps.

"Now you probably wonder what happened to me at school and socially. I understand that our paths, yours and mine that is, were very similar and we both just conformed through school and changed as soon as we got home. I wish we had malls when I was a kid because they offer an anonymity you don't get with the local shops and stores and I'm sure I would have been dressed up and hanging out in malls if they existed. Cynthia took me out once in a while when I was dressed up, but our mother didn't like her doing it, so it wasn't as often as I wanted.

"I was lucky with my career choice. I wanted to go to college but I was offered a chance to help out Joel Finston, who was a local builder. Joel was trying to expand his business but couldn't cope with all the paperwork. He was a truly great builder, a craftsman par excellence, but applying for permits and suchlike confused him. I only intended to help him out for a week or two but I got engrossed by the process of making money. For some reason, the whole thing seemed logical and straightforward to me and I could see huge potential for Joel. Six months after I started I had full financial control of an organisation that had taken off with new developments and new housing estates. Two years later Joel was rolling in money and I'd been renamed General Manager, at twenty-one.

"With some astute planning we expanded and grew and Joel, who was a really nice guy, made me a partner a couple of years later. He knew I'd made him rich and he appreciated it. So I stayed with Joel until he retired in 1988 and I took over the whole works and bought Joel out. It made me rich and I sold the company for a small fortune two years ago and moved to Alabama, mainly because it's warmer here. I bought a small mansion overlooking the Gulf. To cut a long story short, I'm rich. Bring Fifi down here sometime so I can be enlightened.

"To continue the story, I left home at twenty after I figured I'd stay and work with Joel for a while and I found a place to rent a mile from the office. A whole house in a secluded location where I could cavort at will. Joel was paying me well so I used some of my hard-earned money to set the place up how I'd always wanted, with walk-in wardrobes and drawer space and enough wardrobes and drawers to satisfy a cross-dressing habit I could afford to indulge. This was 1966 and there weren't many lingerie shops in the area and the ones that were, were mainly conservative, but I wasn't far from New York City where I could get whatever I wanted, and I did.

"I never got out of the habit of becoming Louise as soon as I walked in the door so not having to even pretend I'm Arthur any more now I'm retired has been wonderful. I haven't worn anything male since the day I sold the business. Adventures? Yes, I did have a few.

"I've never been intimidated by idiots who think I might be strange, weird or even sometimes queer. Once I got my act together and I had clothes and make-up and looked like I wanted to look (long hair for men in the sixties was a blessing) I made some discreet enquiries and soon found there were plenty of other guys who wanted the contact and support or just somewhere to go and hang out. There was no internet in those days. It was all clandestine calls, whispered conversations and men sneaking out of the house with a suitcase, but the tea-parties on my back lawn were lovely.

"I tended toward floral dresses, floaty, pale chiffon or voile with big straw hats, masses of chiffon scarves, pale stockings and delicate high-heeled sandals. There was a group of about a dozen of us who met as often as we could and the membership changed as people came and went, but it was a group that promoted decorum, good taste and passablity. We sorted out dress, posture and make-up where we felt it was needed and we went out the theatre, movies and restaurants as a large group or in two's and threes. Sometimes we had problems with people who read one of us, but mostly we just had a good time.

"I vacationed every year in some far-away place. New Orleans was always a favourite. The first time I went there they hadn't started sanitising it and there was a lot of fun to be had you can't have any more. I used to hire a girl for two weeks for company. That sounds awful but she was less of a whore and more of a fun companion with an hourly rate. If you want to meet the locals, hire a local. Cherie was a honey and knew the secret worlds we cross-dressers were inclined to inhabit. She was very good at sex as well.

"I should mention that although I never got around to marrying anyone, I had plenty of expressions of interest, as they call it these days. I was always heterosexual but I never met a girl apart from Cherie who accepted cross-dressing as a way of life rather than a form of perversion. I believe it's easier now, but I bet most women still won't wear it, or let you wear it. There was one girl in our group named Charlotte, who was so beautiful I'm sure I would have slept with her if she'd suggested it. It sounds strange coming from an avowed hetero, but haven't you ever been attracted to someone who is just so damned good-looking that it didn't seem to matter that she was a guy under all that silk?"

(I thought, yes, Fifi, and then there was the episode with Pete who was always a guy and who I nearly slept with anyway. Tricky territory!!)

"I'd have to recommend Paris as the ultimate cross-dressing heaven. The clothes! The shops! The lingerie! The beautiful girls! Have you ever been there, Anna?"

"Probably March next year," I said.

"Wonderful. Are you going alone?"

"No, Fifi wants to come."

"With a name like Fifi I suppose she has to. Does Fifi know you're a cross-dresser?"

"She certainly does. She's been living with me for a long time. Fifi is transsexual, Louise."

"How fascinating. Yes, make sure she goes with you, Anna, and get ready to have your backsides fondled and have propositions come from all directions. Frenchmen are very sexual beings, although the Italians are probably smoother. I'd recommend Rome and Venice."

"We're looking at going to Venice for maybe a week, Louise. I've never been there, although Fifi has. She has a Fine Arts doctorate and did a study tour there a few years ago. She says she can show me where to buy the best silk panties in the entire universe."

"How wonderful. Ask her if she went to visit Signora La Vettori. She makes the best silk nightgowns in this particular universe. Tell me, Anna, how do you travel?"

"Mainly in an airplane."

"I thought that was probably the case, but what I meant was, do you go dressed or not?"

"Not internationally, it's not worth the hassle, but inside the States, yes I usually do. Mind you, because I often travel on book tours, I have to look like Ryan King when I get wherever I'm going because someone usually meets me and needs to recognise me. I suspect travel is going to get harder as they tighten security but I'll play it by ear. I'm not one of those cross-dressers who demand the right to travel however they want wearing whatever they like. I still like the quiet life. I also don't need the publicity. My agent books me through as Anna Ryan if I'm not being met at the other end."

"Your mother said you didn't look even vaguely male these days, so it must make it easy. I'm proud to say I haven't been read in thirty years, but I seem to have to work at it a little harder these days. I use Angelica Houston as a role model these days. Dark, stylish, good-looking. And she is too. Mind you, I was mistaken for Angela Lansbury recently and I had the urge to break my umbrella over the man's head, but, in his defence, his glasses were very thick."

I laughed. "So what you're saying is that you really haven't had many problems at all?"

"I suppose I am, Anna. I feel sympathy for guys who, unlike us, don't get the opportunity to dress up and go out. Because you and I can actually live as girls we're really quite privileged. I haven't worn anything except panties for close to forty years and I no longer care what my doctor thinks. I used to, you know. I spent hours agonising over whether I dared appear at his office wearing panties and I could never bring myself to. I'm sure it wouldn't have fazed him at all but I couldn't do it. I compromised by wearing nothing at all when I went to visit him. My doctor down here in Alabama is a lovely lady who knows everything about me and wants me to meet her mother."

"You've never considered any kind of cosmetic enhancements? I ask because the question was put to me yesterday and it was something I hadn't thought about. I suppose I'm content to stay the way I am because I have this secret identity called Ryan King, but you don't have any restrictions on you. Do you have any plans?"

"Not at all. I sometimes think about the different levels of cross-dressing and I think that you and I are both at the logical conclusion of the definition. Anything else would be going to the transsexual and as soon as there's surgery involved you aren't just a cross-dresser. That reminds me, I have some problems with the use of the term transgender. Anyway, my secret identity remains secret and my neighbours have no idea that I'm anything but a well-dressed, no, impeccably, dressed woman of independent means who has enough charm and confidence to be assimilated into local society. That means I do cocktail parties, card evenings and charity fundraisers but reject quilting bees and Tupperware parties."

"Sounds idyllic to me, Louise. I'm intrigued that my mother was into spanking. Did she get over that?"

"I suspect there are still times where she inflicts a good spanking on your father. She's never said anything but your father did. It was just a throwaway line during a conversation one day but I got the impression she might still indulge herself. Did she ever spank you or your sisters?"

"I can't recall being spanked or seeing the girls getting spanked. Perhaps it's just Pop who gets it."

"Could be. Now tell me, when can you come down here to visit? I'll organise the ladies and we'll have a garden party for you. Do you want to be Ryan King, thriller writer or Anna Ryan, erotic story writer?"

"I can't promise a time right now, Louise, but I'll certainly come as Anna Ryan. Fifi will come as Fifi and amaze you. During the winter might be best. It's nice to go somewhere warm when it's cold here."

"Good thinking. It's a nice place to spend Christmas. We're big on all the trimmings except snow. I'm having the ladies over for dinner, not the husbands, just the ladies, on the night before Christmas Eve, if you're not doing anything. It's called the Christmas Eve Eve Party."

"Let me think about this, Louise. I'll talk to Fifi and get back to you."

"Excellent! Give a day's warning so I can light a fire in the bedroom. It's been nice talking to you, Anna. Take care of yourself and give my best to Fifi. I can't wait to meet her. Come to think of it, I've never met Anna Ryan either. Goodbye, Anna."

Louise hung up and I thought about Christmas in Alabama. Could be good. I'd discuss it with Fifi later.

Christmas! I checked the date and the calendar and it was only nine weeks until Christmas. No wonder there were cold winds blowing up my skirt! Plans needed to be made.

 

I talked about it with Fifi after she got home, but only after we'd kissed a lot. It was the first time we'd been apart for more than a few minutes since I penetrated her. We decided the idea had merit, but we needed to have a Christmas party here as well. We had to thank the girls from the Bookshop for their support, along with a few other people. We adjourned to the village to eat and drink.

I was pleased to note that there was a new restaurant being built next to the Bookshop. The Candle in the Wind was okay but we could do with some variety. Beth had told me about it some time back but I'd forgotten in the heat of a new relationship. I couldn't remember what kind of restaurant it was going to be, but I had the word barbeque in my mind. Ah, the hopes of youth.

The Bookshop had lights on inside so we put our heads in the door and invited Suzanne and Bethany to join us, an invitation they refused. Apparently they had a relative staying, but suggested dinner the following night at the Candle. That sounded good because neither of us was up for cooking, Fifi because she worked all day and it wasn't fair to expect her to cook, and me because I'm a Cooking Neanderthal.

We ate and drank; we talked about Alabama some more and we talked about Christmas. I know I've mentioned this before, but I love Christmas. I love the whole season, the food, the drink, the presents, the presents and the presents. Did I mention presents? God I love presents, giving and getting, and this year I had Fifi to share with me.

 

(Thanks to those who badgered me for more Lady Writer. I'll try for a Christmas special but I'm writing a proper novel as well and feel guilty when I ignore it to enjoy myself writing TG stories. I'll check on that insolent maid Michelle and see what her plans are as well. In the meantime it really is only about nine weeks until Christmas, so get shopping.)

  

  

  

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