A Letter From Laura

by Donna Dee

  

The sequel to Caitlin Knows Best

  

Prologue

Laura, the adopted daughter of Maria Templeton first appeared in "Caitlin Knows Best," a story posted earlier this year. If you have read it then feel free to skip this introduction. For those who haven't, Laurence Philips was being cared for at the St Philips Orphanage, a few miles north of Birmingham. It's patron was Maria Templeton, a probable billionaire, which explains why it was a modern building, centrally heated with all mod cons, clean dormitories, comfortable beds and a high standard of catering.

Why Maria chose Laurence to be her ward was never made clear, but that is what happened and, at the age of 12 he went to live with her in her mansion. For three years his full time education was entrusted to a private tutor where he made excellent progress. From the age of 15 this was reduced to part time and he was sent to work each afternoon at Maria's large fashion store in the city centre. Under the patient eye of Caitlin Ross, he soon fell in love with his job – where he developed a special liking for the lingerie and ladies fashion department. He "had the feel" for silks and satins and quickly learned everything there was to know about the materials – everything except the luxury of wearing those garments. Those were Caitlin's words, not his.

This chance remark made him realise that this might hold him back and so he made the suggestion that he should try wearing ladies underclothes beneath his suit – just for the experience. Caitlin gave this her full approval and got him started straight away and quickly realised her protιgιe was enjoying every minute of it. Since he had a good knowledge of the products he naturally wanted to serve in the store but this met with problems; the clients preferred to be served by other ladies even if the salesMAN was wearing panties and nylons. Laurence was determined to serve in the store and with this in mind he eventually persuaded Caitlin to let him wear a dress so that he could try serving on the shop floor once more.

Caitlin wasn't really happy about this, but she wanted to please her employer's ward. When he first tried a dress on he looked dreadful; they were both horrified at how fat he seemed, compared to the other female staff – and he was embarrassed when Caitlin pointed out how manly his mannerisms seemed. She explained what he'd need to do; Laurence was willing and so there followed a period of corset training coupled with lessons in femininity that he practised diligently. Once his shape was more suited to that of a smart young lady, Caitlin allowed him to try once more but kept him in the background until being feminine became second nature to him. To help him achieve his goal, Caitlin administered a course of mild hormone tablets daily, just enough to soften his skin and then, after what seemed an age, she taught him to use a little make up and changed his name badge to Laura. He became a very capable salesgirl.

The downside, if that's what it was, was that he felt so good in female clothing that he wanted to wear it all the time. His only worry now was what his aunt might say – he erroneously believed she knew nothing of this, but she had seen him/her at work several times, realised how happy he was and told Caitlin privately that she quite approved. A discussion between Maria, Caitlin and Mrs Truscott concluded that he was happier in dresses and Maria's plan to adopt him, not as her nephew but as her son had to be changed yet again. A celebration dinner was planned to mark his adoption, he was persuaded that his Aunt had bought him a new dinner jacket, but he was delighted to find that what she had really bought him was an evening dress. Nervously entering the dining room he had performed a deep curtsey (as instructed by Caitlin) to his aunt's obvious pleasure, and so began his new life as a woman for he never wore boy's clothes again.

 

Lucy and I visited England a while ago and called on Maria Templeton, she was our Aunt as well, and were surprised to find the boy she adopted was now a young lady. A year or so later we received this letter

 

Now read Laura's letter

 

Dear Lucy and Donna,

 

Perhaps I should re-introduce myself; my name is Laura, your Aunt Maria's newly adopted daughter. It doesn't seem possible that more than a year has passed since we met here in Birmingham; what a shame you arrived the day after my adoption party; it would have been wonderful to have you join in the celebrations. Having said that we were still delighted to meet you and my mother, (it still seems strange to call her that) thanks you for the letter we received a few days later; she meant to answer it straight away but letter writing is not one of her better points. When I offered to write on her behalf she was delighted and hopes you will excuse her.

Before I get round to answering your letter, I must just tell you this; when Truscott escorted you in to meet your Aunt, I shall never forget the look on your faces when she introduced me as her adopted daughter. Obviously you had been told she was about to adopt me as her nephew and you would have had no idea I was moving towards becoming transgendered. It was very kind of you to say then, and in your letter, that you would never have guessed I wasn't a genetic girl. I'm not too sure I fully believed you at the time but several changes have taken place since and I think you will be surprised when next we meet.

I guess my adoption makes us cousins, well sort of cousins anyway, but I can't tell you how good it feels to have relatives however many times removed the genealogists may say we are because, you see, I had never had any relatives before and it is wonderful to feel part of a family.

I suppose the logical place to start is where we were forced to stop when we came with you to Heathrow Airport to see you off on your way home. I can't quite remember how far we got when Collins turned into the airport and mother made me stop talking; I was conscious of rushing you through the last few details about my party when the time came for you to go. Fancy you flying home on Concorde! We watched you take off from the observation platform and the speed at which that fantastic aircraft disappeared into the clouds was scary. Even harder to realise is that you would have landed in New York before we got back to Birmingham!

Anyway, if it's all right with you I intend to carry on with my story, after all another exciting year has passed since we met and I had nearly finished most of what I was saying. I had wanted to add that the thing that surprised me the most on that never to be forgotten night was that the house staff, without exception, all treated me as if I had always been a female. At the store I was now known as Laura and I was most impressed when the butler and his wife who had hitherto called me Master Phillps, addressed me as Miss Laura. Mother said I'd probably bored your panties off with my non-stop chatter, but I insisted you were interested, I do hope I was right. For that reason alone you will understand how delighted I was to read in your letter that you had enjoyed listening to me, even though mother said you were probably just being polite.

I know I got as far as telling you about the dinner party to celebrate my adoption. I knew of her plans to adopt me of course, but I didn't realise mother knew about my dressing as a female when at work. Writing that sentence now makes me feel rather foolish, mother was far too astute to be taken in by anything or anyone, so if I was imagining or hoping I'd get away with the deception then I was being very naive. I was expecting to be her nephew, but hoping that I could somehow get to be her niece whilst never daring to dream it might be possible. Aunt Maria had always been how I imagined a mother would be; I was a bundle of nerves as I was properly made up and helped into that fabulous gown for the party even though Caitlin assured me that my aunt knew all about my dressing up at work. The gown I was wearing had been my aunt's idea and she was, said Caitlin, quite happy for me to wear female clothes. I know she was thrilled when I curtsied to her, I was frightened I might topple over in my four-inch heels but I did it quite perfectly and I heard Caitlin and Mrs Truscott make noises of approval as I rose to greet my aunt and kiss her cheek.

During dinner the proposed adoption was mentioned – she seemed to have accepted me as Laura, called me that all evening and I felt in my bones that this really could be permanent, that perhaps I was to be her niece. Well, she certainly surprised me, and everybody else when she said that she wanted me to be her daughter.

After the party I was taken up to my new room – the one Colette would have had if she had elected to stay, and it was filled with feminine things including several dresses, blouses and skirts, various sweaters and jumpers and lots of shoes, all in my size of course, so it seems as if everyone already knew that I would be dressing and living as a girl from now on. After I got into bed, Caitlin came to join me, just for a few minutes, and we shared a goodnight kiss before she returned to her room.

When I awoke Saturday morning at about 9.30, it took me a few minutes to remember where I was. I gently fingered the pink satin sheets, smelled the subtle perfume that seemed to surround me and let my eyes search the room. The door to my private bathroom was quilted and had an enormous glass doorknob, apart from which just about everything was pink. The vanity was covered in what seemed like a hundred different bottles and jars of cosmetics, so I guessed I was expected to them. Whoopee!

I got up somewhat reluctantly from the most comfortable bed I'd ever slept in, removed my night clothes and took a shower, making sure (as I always did anyway) to tuck all my hair inside the shower cap. I dried myself on a huge fluffy pink towel then moisturised my body. Making up my face came naturally enough; after all I had been using make up at work for twelve months or more. I brushed my hair down to my shoulders as per last evening and lacquered it well. I put on fresh undies of course and then, from the wardrobe I selected a simple yellow sundress with a skirt just short of my knees and a matching cardigan. I chose black shoes with a 2½-inch heel and went down to breakfast happier than I ever remember being before. My brand new mother must have heard me coming for she was waiting in the hall to greet me. "Good morning Mother, how are you today?" I asked.

"Good morning Laura, you have missed breakfast but you are just in time for elevenses," she smiled lovingly. "Let us eat together and have a little chat." We had coffee and I had a croissant before retiring the lounge where we sat together on the settee.

That day was, of course, my first in a casual dress and heels, plus makeup of course. It may only have been at work but I guess you know by now that I was really enjoying wearing female clothes, that I had begun to love the feel of a snug fitting padded bra on my chest and the silky feel of my nylons whenever I crossed my legs. We were about to start talking when you two arrived, putting our little chat on hold for the duration of your visit.

Talking of which we were delighted to read that you enjoyed your trip, had a good journey home and thank you for your kind offer to have us stay with you should we ever visit the USA. Actually I was in Seattle about nine months ago, and I will be coming back to America soon, so perhaps we can meet up.

Once we got back from taking you to the airport, mother and I had our chat – it was a very lengthy chat I might add. There were several issues she wanted straightening out, and my relationship with Caitlin was high on her list. She didn't forbid what I thought at the time was my love for her, she just pointed out where things didn't quite add up – and she made me see sense. I guess my feelings were really just gratitude for all she'd done for me I expect you can imagine how difficult I thought it would be to tell Caitlin how I felt, but to my amazement she fully agreed with me.

The result was that Caitlin and I are no longer an item, not that we ever were in the strictest sense of the word. In my naivetι I believed I loved her but we never actually made love – certainly not properly either as boy/girl or as lesbians. I think there is a very thin line between love and gratitude (and I was deeply indebted to her for all she'd done) and we mutually agreed it had been a mistake to cross it. We are still the best of friends and colleagues of course, we socialise too and she stays with us most weekends, but it stops there.

The next thing mother wanted to hear from my own lips was how serious I was about my commitment to femininity, remember I didn't realise until shortly before the party that she knew I was wearing a dress, high heels and make-up at work. Up until now she only had Caitlin's word that I loved doing so. Obviously in the orphanage we all knew a little about the birds and the bees – the differences between boys and girls and just what it was we weren't supposed to do to each other – was there ever a surer way of making certain that we did? My formal education was now part time – two mornings a week and so the next day she sent for Mr Bond, (my tutor), and told him I was to have lessons in anatomy. She told him that I would now be wearing a dress to the classroom, which made his eyebrows rise somewhat. Mother said she wanted to discuss this subject again when I had had a few lessons. I was very embarrassed and I asked her when she had first realised I was wearing a dress at work.

She said she had known all along; that Mrs Truscott had noticed I was not putting vests and boxers in the wash basket each day. When she saw a pair of panties in my room she had put two and two together and told Caitlin what she had discovered. Caitlin told her I was learning about silks and satins. Later Caitlin told Aunt Maria what I was trying to achieve and kept her up to date with a weekly report. I asked her if she'd been cross, she said not, that Caitlin was quite happy that no harm could come from it and that I was not engaged in some fetish or other.

Even so she was obviously concerned, cross dressing was something outside her experience, and when she heard that I wanted to wear a dress and serve in the store she had invited a psychiatrist and her doctor to dinner a couple of times. They hadn't been introduced to me as medical people and I'd chatted with them normally. They had decided I was a well-balanced boy and that no harm would come from it and so dressing while at work had been allowed to continue. She had seen me in a dress at the store several times and realised how happy I was and after much heart searching decided that, if I wanted to dress as a girl then I could. She then commented somewhat dryly that since I had worn nothing but skirts and dresses since the party it seemed she had been right to approve.

Mother pointed out that it wasn't only the things she had been told that had made her concerned. She had noticed how well cared for my hair looked lately, how it shone and how neatly I always fixed it, even at home. She had also noticed that I was dressing my ponytail further up towards the top of my head as girls normally did, that it was getting longer and that it didn't seem to worry me that it was tossing around quite freely and prettily. When I wore my hair down, which I only did occasionally because of it's length, she noticed I had learned to flick my head and toss the hair back over my shoulder, a totally feminine gesture. I hadn't realised I was doing that. She asked me what sort of mother it would be that didn't notice her child getting thinner by the day and the puffiness in my chest. She had also observed that my fingernails, though short, were well rounded and nicely polished. However, now that it was all in the open, and since I'd been dressing at work for nigh on a year, she wanted me to see her doctor formally to decide where things should go from here. What she wanted to know was where did I want to go from here. How serious was I?

As to how serious I was I could only repeat that since I'd started to dress for work I felt as if I had really come alive; I couldn't imagine dressing in male underclothes or a shirt and a suit, let alone ugly, shapeless heavy shoes ever again. I asked her why she had invited her doctor to dinner a year or so before; was it for her to assess me in some way.

She told me it was, that she had not told her anything about my dressing-up, just waited until I had retired for the night and listened to her doctor's comments. The she paused to await my answer to the 64,000-dollar question – did I want to make the change permanent?

I could only repeat that I didn't want to change back, and that the prospect of wearing female clothes forever more was very attractive.

The next question startled me somewhat – she asked how long I'd been taking hormone tablets, how many I took, who gave them to me and if I realised just what they could do to me, but more important than that, had I seen a doctor?

I said I didn't know, that Caitlin had been giving me some tablets on a daily basis for over a year – vitamins she'd said they were and no, I didn't realise they could do me harm. I had not seen a doctor. Mother was furious at this and came as close to losing her temper as I had ever seen her. She said she would arrange for me to see her doctor next day and this we did. I was examined thoroughly, my blood pressure was checked and a seemingly large sample taken for testing. We had to see her again the following week when she questioned me at length about becoming fully transgendered. After this she told my mother that the oestrogen I had been taking had done no lasting harm, the dosage had been very mild, and the effects were reversible if I stopped taking them. However, she felt it was not in my best interests to carry on, as I was, that I should either stop taking them or go for broke and do the job properly.

I asked what that entailed; the reply was a bit startling.

The doctor replied, "If you seriously wish to live as a woman for the rest of your life then you need either to go onto a much stronger HRT programme that will ultimately chemically castrate you or I can arrange for a surgeon to remove your testicles, which supply your body with testosterone. Once that has been done you would only need a very mild course of oestrogen for a few months to speed up the changes to your skin and hair – to thoroughly soften and really feminise your body. Later, if you wish, we can arrange for a further operation or two, one to improve your bust line, the other to remove your penis and provide you with a vagina. This latter is not strictly necessary; there are other ways of having sex as you probably know." Wow!

No binding decision was called for at the time. Mother thanked the doctor and told her we would probably go for it, but some period of thought seemed advisable. She said she wanted Dr Braybourne to prescribe the stronger course of HRT for me to take in the meantime. The doctor agreed, suggested a booster injection that I accepted and sent us on our way. Nothing more was said for a couple of days; I went to and from work in dresses and heels and quite truthfully I had never been happier. Mother commented on this and said she thought I might as well go the whole way, but before I made the final commitment, there were several rough edges that needed smoothing out. With this in mind she had heard about a school in America that catered for transsexuals and genetic girls who wished to become proper young ladies. It seems they taught males all the skills and social graces they would need to pass as sophisticated women. I thought it sounded wonderful. She had been so excited at the prospect that she had already telephoned for a booking and I was to go to a place just outside Seattle in a fortnight's time. Meanwhile, she decreed, I had some serious shopping to do.

SHOPPING! What a wonderful word; what a wonderful way to spend the day. As a male I had hated it, but it may be because of the hormones I was taking or the fact that dressing as a girl had made me think like one, but suddenly I was so excited I screamed. Mother gave me a gold Visa card and decreed that Alice, (one of the maids who was closest to my age) should accompany me and help me to choose a few items suited to my age. A FEW! – Who did she think she was kidding? Alice and I spent a week in Birmingham, Wolverhampton, Coventry, Leamington Spa and even a trip to London. I have no idea how much we spent and since mother didn't complain I guess I got it right.

Soon it was time to go – I was very nervous of course but at the same time very excited. I packed an enormous suitcase with clothes of every description and took my first ever flight from Birmingham to Chicago and then on to Seattle. Have you ever been to Seattle? It's an odd sort of place isn't it? All that water everywhere. I don't know why it was but for one reason or another I couldn't seem to sleep; perhaps it was the excitement I spent two days in the city before going on to the school where I would stay for three weeks,

Two days later I made my way to the school where two really nice young ladies, Carol and Susan, gave me a hug and a kiss as they greeted me. I checked in and they took me to the most feminine room I had ever been in my life (even more feminine than my own bedroom) – all pink and chintzy, a four-poster double bed with silk drapes on all sides and a vanity unit covered with literally dozens of jars of makeup. They helped me unpack, ooh-ed and aah-ed at my lovely new clothes. They were very attractive, confident and helpful and it was only three days later I found out they too were transsexuals who had stayed on at the school to work after attending the course. The first thing they did was to fit much longer acrylic nails to my fingers; I said they were too long but all they said was that I'd better get used to them real fast.

Those three weeks flew by. It was damned hard work at times, we were on the go from 7.30 every morning until around 11.00 at night, but it seemed that in no time at all I was applying my make up and curling my hair as if I'd done it all my life, and making a darned good job of it too. Their cosmeticians who advised freely on the best products to use in future tested my facial skin. I learned about co-ordinating colours and materials, the care of clothes, even the best way to wash my undies! We were taught how to cater for a big dinner party, table layouts, how to decide who sat next to whom – what wines went with what foods – etc. (At home, of course, that sort of thing was left to the Truscott's and I realised that without them I'd not have had a clue what to do). We spent half an hour three times a day walking up and down in a large classroom in full four-inch heels and with two or three books balanced on our heads. Still keeping the books balanced, we had to sit and stand correctly, smoothing our skirts as we did so, but they really twisted the knife on the third week when they had us walking up and down stairs in long frocks, still with the books on our heads and four-inch heels on our feet. OW! We always had to get in and out of cars gracefully, (bum first getting in, feet together getting out). The videos of our early efforts provided a hilarious highlight at a social evening towards the end of the course.

Each week a different handsome young man took me out to dinner where my behaviour and deportment were carefully observed. I had to dress correctly for the occasion, dance with him, (backwards and in high heels) and even give him a goodnight kiss. When we were told we had to kiss our dates goodnight I confess that I stalled a little. The instructor picked up on this at once and pointed out that if we wanted to be women we had to act like women, and thinking like that it didn't seem so wrong. Actually I quite enjoyed it

I had a professional makeover, perm, manicure and pedicure, (the even longer acrylic fingernails took some getting used to, but I adored the blood red colour they applied.). We were tested every other day by being sent on shopping trips on which we had to spend money, (well it would have been a terrible waste of effort not to buy something, wouldn't it). There were visits to the theatre to teach us how to act in crowded places. I had lots of speech lessons and medicinal therapy to help me pitch my voice a tone higher, something I found quite difficult. However, Christine, my personal tutor, in whom I confided my intentions of having surgery in the near future, assured me that having my testicles removed would help me to speak in a much more ladylike tone. But the best lessons by far were in the art of being just slightly casual when formally dressed – how (and when) to leave a button or two undone to show a bit of cleavage. I did have the beginnings of real breasts starting to show by now, helped by my under wired bra and corset, not to mention some soft breast forms. Let me just add this, Lucy and Donna; if I had any doubts about my desire to be a girl before this trip, they were well and truly resolved now. I will never, ever go back.

A day under four weeks saw my plane land at Birmingham International where my mother was waiting to welcome me home. She said she hardly recognised me, but I think she was teasing a little. But the immigration officer did comment that I could do with a new passport photograph – and that one was only a few months old. Mother said it was my bearing that confused her, I had walked tall into the waiting area with one of the aircrew pushing the trolley with my THREE suitcases on it – I told you I went shopping didn't I? Collins took the cases and escorted us to the car and then drove us home. Mother could hardly wait to hear everything I had to tell her, and she wanted to know it all. Mrs Truscott hardly knew me, hell I hardly knew myself. I had to model a lot of the clothes I'd bought. Caitlin came in after work, we had dinner and I had to tell some of the stories over and over again to a very appreciative audience. When mother asked if she should ring the doctor next day I just smiled and nodded – genteelly of course.

We saw Dr Braybourne the next day – it seemed no one kept my mother waiting for anything. She was amazed at the changes I had made, said that I had really grown up this last month and looked absolutely lovely. I said I had decided on the first operation to remove my testicles, which didn't surprise her. She said she didn't really need to ask me if I was sure – my appearance alone confirmed that. Even so she felt it imperative to point out that it was an irreversible operation and said she had another couple of questions for me before proceeding. Firstly she asked if I still got erections. I answered that I did but only rarely. She asked what it was that caused me to have erections and I said that mainly it was the excitement of putting on some new underwear; it certainly wasn't the thought of other women. Finally she asked if I masturbated, I did not, and did I ever have a dream that lead to ejaculation? I replied that I'd had two since going to America, both dreams had been about my increasing femininity and that my orgasms, if that's what they were, were exciting but almost dry. She nodded her head as if in approval.

I confirmed I had no doubts that this was the right course of action for me and mother agreed so I was booked into a private hospital just off the Hagley Road where the surgeon confirmed I was fit enough to undergo surgery, assured himself that I hadn't changed my mind, got me to sign to that effect and then asked if I wanted a full anaesthetic or just a local injection – he assured me I wouldn't feel at thing. Even so I opted for the anaesthetic and said goodbye to my testicles later that day. There was some soreness of course, but overall was a feeling of relief that my full transition was underway. Two or three days later, now dressed normally again, I was delighted with how flat my front looked even when I was only wearing normal panties. It was good to leave off the gaffe.

Dr Braybourne wanted to see me a week after the operation for a formal check-up. By this time the soreness had gone but I did feel very light headed at times, almost like being drunk I guess. Whilst I had never been really drunk myself, I had seen films in which a character appeared to be under the influence. The good doctor said that this was almost certainly due to the sudden and total withdrawal of the testosterone and prescribed some tablets to minimise the effect.

Obviously I am now getting accustomed to calling your Aunt Maria Mother. You will realise that I'd never known real love before though I had had my dreams of what it might be like. First as my aunt and now as my mother, Maria has been everything and more than everything to me – she has refused me nothing yet somehow kept me level headed. I absolutely adore her. She has, however, decreed that I must now earn my keep, but not in her stores. Firstly I am to travel the world checking on all her companies – companies she says will one day be mine – it's an awesome responsibility.

I am going to close now – mother says this will need to go parcel post instead of airmail – but then she still does tease me sometimes. But before I go I wonder if I can ask you a favour?

I am obviously determined to continue with my transition and mother, who is quite O.K. with my wishes says your father does breast implant surgery if not S.R.S. Obviously I would prefer to go to a surgeon I know – or know of as in this case. Could you please ask him if he will see me in a few months time, and if he will, can I please come and stay with you while he does it?

Bye-bye for now then girls, hoping to see you soon,

Your affectionate cousin

Laura xxx

 

P.S. Mother is sending me to Hong Kong, Singapore and Thailand next month to inspect her interests there; I'll look forward to telling you about my trip next time. L.

 

It was also very difficult to get accustomed to calling Aunt Maria Mother. I'd never known a mother, of course, but I'd had my dreams of what it might be like. Maria was all that and more to me in the five years I had lived in her house. There was nothing more she could do for me than she had already done, she was loving and kind and I absolutely adore her.

   

  

  

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