The Making of a Special Lady

by

Belle Gordon

 

Chapter One

 

When I graduated from university with a MBA, I was lucky to find employment with the firm of Aintree and Epsom, Investment Brokers. Actually they were two women in a small office in Marylebone. Jillian Epsom and Jennifer Aintree were in their mid forties and were devoted lesbians in a long-term relationship. (No baggy trousers or combat boots for Jill or Jenny though, they were lesbians of the 'lipstick' variety; it was strictly haute couture for these two). They had become very successful at what they did, hence my recruitment to cope with the expanding business.

I later learned, that initially they were reluctant to employ me as they really wanted a girl, but as industrial relations law forbade discrimination on the basis of gender, and as I was the only applicant for the post, they reluctantly took me on. They were afraid I might be aggressive or antagonistic and would not fit in. However, they later confided that their misgivings were unfounded and I impressed them with my appearance and demeanour. My bearing has always been slightly effeminate. I unconsciously adopt feminine mannerisms when sitting, walking and talking and they liked that, they said.

George Southall was their general factotum and would be my mentor. He was an amiable gentleman in his mid sixties who had come with the office. He took an instant liking to me and was always most helpful and considerate. He was from the old school of gent who always raised his hat to a lady, stood when someone entered a room and held doors open for them. He guided me through the workings of the office and showed me where things were stored, and was a great help to me when I started. When I wasn't too busy with my own work I'd often go into his little room and help him with his filing and invoicing.

I became close friends with Jill and Jenny and was often invited to their apartment for supper, (a privilege accorded to no other man), and on one occasion, when too much wine had been consumed I was allowed to stay, sleeping on a sofa bed.

I quickly made myself indispensable to the running of the business. I was responsible for the smooth day-to-day administration of the office as well as my duties as receptionist. Under the strict guidance and tutelage of Jill I had recently been allowed to make investments for clients of my own, and over the six months I'd been dealing I'd been reasonably successful and I had made a modest amount of money.

One of my other duties was to run errands whenever required, and today Jill had asked me to deliver a package to a company near Regents Park. On my way back I was stopped at a pedestrian crossing waiting for the green light to cross, when I happened to glance down the side street. A little way down was a shop belonging to a bespoke tailor, but what caught my eye were the white silk boxer shorts and singlet being displayed on a mannequin in the window. Seeing them reminded me that I had been planning to buy myself some new underwear, so on impulse I turned down the street and entered the shop.

A tall man in a black suit, grey silk waistcoat, pink tie and with a shock of grey hair looked up as I entered and said, "Good morning Sir, how can I help you?"

"I noticed the boxer shorts in your window and thought I'd get a pair or two."

He leant down and produced a tray from below the counter containing many pairs of shorts.

"Certainly Sir. What size would Sir like?" he asked.

"I'm not sure."

"If sir would kindly slip off his jacket I'll measure you."

Since I'd been working for them, Jill and Jenny had encouraged me to acquire clothes that were more unisex and my wardrobe was gradually becoming more feminine. They frequently bought me items so that instead of cotton shirts I now had polyester blouses or girls t-shirts, and in place of mens trousers I'd wore ladies slacks or jeans. Consequently, because I was still felt a little self-conscious, whenever I left the office I wore a large baggy anorak with the hood pulled up to conceal whatever I happened to be wearing. So I paused momentarily before I revealed that under the coat I wore a cropped apricot, t- shirt with a scalloped neck and three quarter length sleeves, and girls' hipster jeans with a wide black patent leather belt. As I exposed my garb to the tailor his eyebrows raised perhaps half a millimetre before he was all business again and passed the tape measure round my bare midriff.

"Waist twenty five inches. Hips, thirty six, and bust thirty six, er, I mean chest."

He sorted through the pile of shorts looking at size labels then handed me a pair. There was a slight tremble in my hands as I took the proffered article and felt the exotic material. The touch of the soft silky fabric evoked half forgotten childhood memories in me. He watched me closely as I caressed the soft material, running it between my fingers, and then stroking it against my cheek. I blushed when I realized what I had done and quickly dropped them back onto the counter top.

"If Sir is interested we also stock a line of more, ah shall we say, delicate items of underwear. Perhaps Sir would care to see them?"

"OK." I said, trying to sound casual and keep the growing excitement from my voice.

He dipped down again and came up with a tray of colourful and frothy pieces. He selected a rose pink panty and laid it on the counter smoothing it flat. The hipster short had a ruffle of white lace around the leg openings and a tiny pink bow in the centre of the waistband. Alongside this he carefully laid a pair of bikini briefs, a thong g-string and an old-fashioned directoire knickers, all adorned with lace and bows.

"But surely these and women's panties?"

"Oh no, Sir. They are from our range of what we call 'Gentlemen's Lingerie'."

I was open mouthed in wonder at the amazing selection of knickers in front of me. My eyes skipped from the long-legged pantaloons to the briefs, the thongs and g-strings, hardly believing what I was looking at.

"You mean men wear these?" I asked incredulously.

"Oh yes, Sir. They are very popular and in great demand. I myself have a preference for these." He said, indicating a tiny lacy bikini brief.

"Well in that case, I'll take three pair." I decided.

"Very good, Sir. Which colours do you prefer?"

"I'll have these," I said, selecting the rose pink French knicker short, "a blue pair and a black pair." My mouth was beginning to feel dry with my suppressed excitement. I was tempted to buy more but decided I could always come back.

"Of course, Sir."

As he carefully folded them he asked, "Would Sir be interested in purchasing a matching singlet to go with your drawers?"

"Maybe." Trying to sound nonchalant.

Up came a third tray from below the counter. He sorted through them then lifted one with the dainty shoulder straps hooked on his outstretched index fingers. It was without doubt a ladies camisole and matched the rose pink panties. The bottom edge was trimmed with a lace frill; there was also a lacy detail at the bust and little pink satin roses where the shoulder straps attached to the bodice. It was a beautiful thing and together with the panties would please any woman.

"These are very popular, Sir. I'm sure you will enjoy wearing them."

"OK, I'll take them." I said quickly before my voice failed me. I could feel my excitement mounting and a stirring in my groin.

"Excellent, Sir."

I handed him my plastic, hoping I had enough credit left to cover the cost. He carefully folded the items, wrapped them in tissue paper and put them in a box tied with a pink satin ribbon. When he handed me the box I was somewhat nonplussed to see printed in bold letters across the front. 'Janus Tailors. Purveyors of fine Gentlemen's Lingerie'

"Perhaps you would have a bag I could put this in?" I asked.

"Of course, Sir." He passed over a brown paper carrier bag and I slipped the box inside.

As I turned to leave he said, "If Sir is interested, we also carry an extensive range of gentlemen's corsetry and foundation garments. I have enclosed my card should you wish to make a private appointment, and I would be happy to arrange a personal fitting. And remember, discretion is paramount in all our dealings.

"Thank you." I said. "I'll remember."

 

Chapter Two

As I was hanging up my anorak on my return to the office I heard Jill shout "Hey Jenny, Pauline's been shopping."

They had begun calling me Pauline (my name is Paul Newbury) after I'd answered the telephone to a client and the caller had assumed I was a girl. Over the time I'd been with them I'd unconsciously been adopting a softer, higher pitched manner of speaking.

"Hi Jen. Who's your new girl?" I heard a voice ask.

"That's Pauline." She answered without a second's hesitation. "She's a treasure. She's been with us for a while now and I don't know how we'd manage without her."

And since that day I had been Pauline and was always referred to as she and her. I didn't really mind so long as it stayed in the office. As it was I felt I was slowly becoming more of a Pauline that a Paul.

"Let's see what you've bought." She said withdrawing the box. "Ooo, what have we here? Gentlemen's Lingerie indeed."

Jenny had joined us as Jill quickly undid the ribbon and opened the box, spilling the contents onto my desk.

"O, Wow!" they both exclaimed, picking up panties and camisoles with both hands. "These are fabulous." Jenny cried. "Are they a present for some lucky girl? Or are they for yourself? George, come and see what Pauline's been buying."

I shyly admitted that I had bought them for myself and told them about the shop. They were intrigued and thought it was a wonderful idea – lingerie for gentlemen.

"You must put one on." Jill announced. "This one, its such a gorgeous pink." She passed over the rose camisole she had been holding up to her front and admiring.

"I don't think I should, really." I started to protest.

"Nonsense. You can't keep them hidden away for yourself, besides there's only us here, and I'm sure you're dying to try it on."

"Well Ok then," I relented. "But you must promise not to laugh."

And with that Jenny grabbed the hem of my tee shirt and with one upward sweep had it over my head. I stood there for a moment with by arms in the air, displaying my hairless chest and armpits, before I folded my arms across my front mimicking a girl trying to hide her breasts.

"Oh, look at the little sissy," Jill said. "Trying to hide her little titties. Here you are, arms up." They often teased me in this manner but it was without malice so I didn't really mind.

I raised my arms again and she slipped the camisole over my head. The silk felt wonderful as it slid down my body. I adjusted the spaghetti thin shoulder straps and smoothed it down my chest, settling the bust over my non-existent breasts. I replaced my t-shirt but noticed that the cami straps were clearly visible in the scalloped neck.

The two girls had closely watched me as I fiddled with the straps and got it fitted properly. George, who had quietly entered the room, was watching me with an indulgent smile on his lips

"You're a natural." Announced Jenny. "You look as though you have been wearing lingerie all you life. Have you?"

"No, I've not. This is the first time." I said.

For the remainder of the day I worked happily in my new camisole. I was very aware of the soft silky caress of the material on my body, and when five o'clock came around I was reluctant to take it off. I asked Jenny if she thought I should remove it, especially as the shoulder straps were so evident.

"Wear it." She said promptly. "You bought it to wear so do so. And it looks lovely on you. Just a pity you don't have any tits to fill it."

She gave me a wink as she made this last remark to let me know she was only teasing. But if I were to be honest with myself I would love to have breasts. I did not know how I could achieve this other than to take large doses of female hormones and I definitely didn't want to do that. If I could afford the cost I could perhaps get implants, but for a man to get breast implants I could foresee enormous difficulties. And by the evidence of certain Internet web sites, they often turned out to be gross, misshapen appendages with tiny male nipples. A third alternative was to purchase breast forms. Granted some were very realistic looking but they still never quite worked. As it was I was happy the way things were, living my single feminised life and dreaming about having womanly breasts.

 

Chapter Three

On Sundays my usual routine was to rise early, jog to Hyde Park and run twice around before it became too crowded. On the way back to my flat I'd buy the Sunday papers. Then I'd run a hot bath, putting in lashings of bubbles and scented oils. While the bath filled I'd step into the shower for my weekly hair depilation. I didn't really need to do this as being half Filipino (and as with most Asians); I had very little body hair to start with and almost none on my face. It was mainly my underarms and pubic area that need treatment but I still smothered my entire body with a propriety brand of a hair removing gel, waited the required time then showered it off. This routine together with regular applications of moisturizing creams kept my skin in a beautifully soft condition. And I loved the smooth clean feeling being hair free gave me.

After a long soak I reluctantly I got from the bath and drained the water. I towelled off and applied a generous dusting of mimosa-scented talcum powder. I selected the baby blue panties with the beige lace trim, pulled them up my legs and nestled my awakening penis into a comfortable position. I followed this with the matching camisole and then an old satin bathrobe. (One of the few things my mother had forgotten to take when she'd gone to Edinburgh to live with an old friend and I'd moved into my apartment.)

I decided my toenails needed painting as they hadn't been done for a while and most of the colour had flaked off. I usually did this about once a month simply because I liked the look of bright red toenails whenever I took my socks and shoes off. When they were dry I slipped my feet into a pair of leather flip-flops and admired to effect. I'm cursed with unusually small feet and find it very difficult to get mens shoes that fit, which means I generally have to buy children's or women's. Boys' shoes are usually ugly and unstylish (except for trainers) so I often buy ladies low-heeled Oxford slip-ons. I have three pairs.

I poured myself a glass of orange juice and settled down to read the newspapers; I curled my legs up under me and settled a cushion on my lap. (Another feminine mannerism I'd unconsciously adopted). Perusing the Sunday Times a small advertisement in the Encounters section caught my eye. Under Men seeking Men it read: -

"Assertive, Professional, good-looking masculine male, 50's, WLTM feminine, attractive male to be pampered and be my special lady."

Followed by a phone and voicebox number.

I thought about the ad for a while wondering what it was all about. I was intrigued by the prospect of being pampered. I met his other criteria too, in that I was male, reasonably attractive, and as Jill and Jenny were always reminding me, I looked feminine. I was frequently mistaken for a girl. I didn't want to dwell on what 'and be my special lady' meant. I was bored and feeling lonely, the day had turned wet and the flat was depressing, so I decided to call.

I dialled the number and when the voicebox answered I simply said, "Hi, I saw your notice in the paper and would be interested in meeting you. Please email me." I told him my address and hung up. I didn't really expect to hear anything more so was quite surprised when I checked my email later in the day and found a reply.

"Hi. Thank you for answering. My name is Nicholas (Nick) Haydock and I live in central London. If you think you fill the requirements in the ad I'd love to meet you. I could possibly travel to meet you but my commitments would make it very difficult. I would prefer you to come to me. Let me know if you are interested. Nick"

I hit the reply button.

Hi Nick, Getting to central London is no problem as I live in Paddington. My name is Paul Newbury; I shall be free next weekend. Paul."

I had a reply almost immediately.

Hi Paul. Great! I shall be in the bar of the Queens Hotel in Knightsbridge between one and two on Saturday afternoon. I will wear a dark blue pinstripe suit with a rose bud in the lapel. And just to make sure you recognize me I'll be carrying a parcel tried with a yellow ribbon. Look forward to meeting you. Nick."

 

Chapter Four

 

By the age of twenty-two I knew I wasn't going to get any bigger, (except in weight if I didn't watch my diet) so I had resigned myself to being small. I had inherited my small stature from my mother who was born in the Philippines. My natural father, whom I never knew, had been a sailor in the Royal Navy, and had seduced Mummy when she was young and hungry. He had disappeared when his ship sailed and she had been left to care for a baby on her own. Being an orphan and with no family to turn to for help, she had approached to one of the many introduction agencies that provide European men with Asian wives.

An introduction was arranged with Edwin Newbury, an elderly man who had recently retired from the civil service. A life long bachelor he had decided that now that he was growing older he needed a companion and someone to look after him. He not only took on the responsibility of a young wife but also adopted me and gave me his name. Being thirty years her senior was not a problem for mummy, as her only requirement was for someone to provide for herself and her child, and for the next ten years they lived happily enough together. Edwin Newbury died peacefully in his sleep at the age of seventy-five.

He left mummy the house and little else but she was comfortable enough. An accomplished seamstress and dressmaker (a skill she had taught me) she made a reasonable living from private commissions. It was helping her as a child with this work, that I discovered a liking for soft, silky materials and a love of fine clothing. I was often required to assist her when she needed an extra pair of hands, and as she didn't own a dressmakers dummy I was sometimes employed as one when she needed to pin up hems et cetera.

I became quite skilful with a sewing machine and I began making things for myself. As a child of four I made myself a chemise from a piece of satin that was left over from a dress. Mummy was delighted that I'd managed to make something and that I loved to wear it. She began making me clothes from left over scraps of silks and satins. As the off-cuts were usually small pieces she mostly made me items of underwear. When having finished her latest creation and I'd declared my love of it, she'd tell me confidentially that really they were the sort of things that only girls wore, but she didn't see why they should have all the fun. Edwin viewed all of this with a benign detachment that I'm sure he put down to our Asian origins.

Throughout my childhood I dressed in underwear she made. She loved thinking up designs and making delicate little panties and shifts. Her creations, however, got more and more outrageous. She began by adding little bits of lace, a tiny bow, and then a frill or a ribbon, till in the end she was producing extravagantly frothy garments. I was always eager to try her latest creations and she in turn derived enormous pleasure from making them. She'd make me parade around the room modelling them and urging me to take little mincing steps, not large ungraceful strides. I was of course too young to understand the fetish implications of all this and although I derived a warm pleasant feeling from wearing them there was nothing sexual involved.

It had to end of course. Edwin Newbury had not been a wealthy man but he did provide for my education and at the age of twelve I was packed off to boarding school, which meant wearing a uniform. So that was the end of my time in fancy underwear. But not my love of it.

These childhood memories had been evoked by the wording in the personal ad I'd replied to. The subsequent emails made me to wonder just what exactly I was getting into. I decided that extreme caution was needed and I would endeavour to discover what I could about Nick before and if I met him.

 

Chapter Five

I entered the bar of the Queens Hotel a little before noon on the Saturday of our rendezvous. It was a small boutique hotel in Wilton Place off Knightsbridge and I suspected it was a favourite with the gay community. I'd visited the place the previous day and checked it out deciding where to position myself so that I could see the whole room and yet be unobserved. I had no intention of actually meeting him today but wanted to get a good look at him. I ordered a pot of tea and settled myself in a corner where a large gilt framed mirror gave me a perfect view of the room without having to face it. I dressed as nondescriptly as possible in brown cord trousers, polo shirt and a grey hoodie. I'd gathered my hair up under a NY baseball cap. I poured my tea, opened the newspaper I'd brought with me and settled down to wait.

He arrived at five minutes to one and I had no doubt that it was he. The blue pinstripe suit was beautifully tailored and fit to perfection. The pink rose bud added an element of sophistication that set him apart from the other patrons. He had a commanding air that brought the waiter scurrying over to him as soon as he sat and took his order for a glass of red wine. I guessed he stood about six feet and had the physique that indicated he worked out regularly. His hair was greying at the temples but was full. His facial features were what are often described at rugged. His strong jaw was clean-shaven; he had a straight nose and cornflower blue eyes.

As I surreptitiously studied him I was surprised to feel an attraction to him. My heart rate had jumped and I could feel a stirring in my loins. I knew I was blushing. On only one previous occasion had I felt an attraction to another man and that had been a childhood crush for a teacher; an experience I had considered the normal part of growing up and something I had left behind.

But I had never considered being physical with an adult male. As I watched him I wondered what it would be like to be held in his strong arms and made love to by this handsome man. I even speculated on the size of his penis and what it would feel like to hold. I was even more surprised to find that these guilty, erotic thoughts had brought my own cock to straining attention in my trousers. What was this effect he was having on me? I didn't think I was gay (In fact I was still a virgin). So why was I fantasising about him?

I blushed further when at that moment he looked in my direction and our eyes made momentary contact in the mirror. He held my gaze till I was forced to look away and I knew that he knew I was staring at him. I was quite flustered and concentrated on my newspaper till I dared look again and was relieved to see he was looking in another direction. I decided I should leave and wait outside. As unobtrusively as possible I adjusted my erection so as not to make it too obvious, finished my tea, and casually walked from the room.

I found a convenient doorway on the opposite side of the street and waited. About a half hour later he emerged, looked both ways, then strode off towards Hyde Park Corner. I followed; trying to remember what the spies did in the novels I'd read when tailing a suspect. I need not have worried, as he never looked back. He walked up Park Lane and tuned into Curzon Street, after a short distance he mounted a short flight of steps, and entered a building. I waited a little while then crossed the street, and entered the lobby. I looked around. An elevator faced the door and to the left, gated stairs led upwards. To the right, set into the wall, were a row of doorbells with intercom speakers and each tenants name beside it. The top floor apartment belonged to Nicholas J. Haydock.

I got the tube back to Paddington and walked to my flat in Westbourne Terrace. I found the tattered telephone directory, from which, fortunately the relevant page of has not been torn, and discovered Nick was listed with both his home number and also his office. I punched the apartment number into my mobile and waited while my call was diverted to his message minder.

"Hi Nick, this is Paul Newbury. I'm so sorry I missed you, I'm afraid I was unavoidably delayed. I went to the hotel but you had gone. Would you like to arrange another meeting? Please email if you'd like to."

I made myself a cup of coffee, went to my computer and opened my email. My inbox showed one new message. I clicked the icon and read: -

"Hi Paul, I was sorry to miss you too. Are you free tomorrow? We could meet in the same place at the same time. I'll dress the same. We could have lunch together. Nick."

I clicked on the reply button.

"Would love to have lunch. See you tomorrow. Paul."

 

 

Chapter Six

I rose early the next morning and went for my usual Sunday morning run. After my customary depilation I soaked for a long time in a hot bath, scented with a generous measure of bath oil and thought about what I should wear. If Nick was wearing a suit then I also should be smart. I owned a blue velvet tailored jacket that had originally been part of a woman's business suit that would be suitable. My white silk blouse-type shirt went well with anything and luckily was clean. I decided that I shouldn't wear jeans, as they were too informal. I rejected my skin-tight black velour ski pants; the type with the loop that goes under the foot. The elasticated waist tended to pull them tightly over my bottom and because the front had no fly, my package was prominently displayed. So instead I chose a pair of light grey worsted slacks cropped at mid calf with a slight flare. As a finishing touch I added a floral chiffon Hermes scarf. I debated whether to wear my favourite rose-pink panties and camisole or not, and decided I would as nothing made me feel more feminine.

Having decided on my ensemble I turned my attention to my hair. I washed and conditioned it then carefully blow-dried it. I combed it into a style that framed my face with a parting down the middle and spreading around my shoulders. Satisfied with the effect, I dressed. The jacket fitted me perfectly. I folded the collar of my blouse outside the collar of the jacket and knotted the scarf in a floppy bow about my neck. I reckoned I looked pretty good. With my feet in the leather flip-flops I reckoned I'd achieved just the right degree of femininity, but not enough to be taken for a foppish sissy.

At this time of the day the tube wasn't too crowded and I took a seat in the first carriage. I sat with my knees and ankles together and my hands folded in my lap and assumed the zombie-like attitude of most tube travellers. After a while I became conscious that the man sitting opposite was staring at me. When I looked at him he winked at me and pursed his lips blowing me a kiss. I immediately dropped my eyes and looked at my feet. To my horror realised that I had forgotten to remove the bright red nail polish from my toenails. I felt the heat rising rapidly up my neck and suffusing my face in a pink blush. Luckily the train was slowing for my stop and as I stood to leave the man leered at me and pushed his tongue rapidly in and out of his mouth in an obscene gesture.

I regained my composure during the walk from the tube station to the hotel. There was nothing I could do about my toenails so I put it out of my mind. I timed my arrival for a little after one-o'clock and spotted Nick sitting in the same position as he had yesterday. I walked up to him and said, "Hello, you must be Nick. I'm Paul."

He stood and held out his hand to me. I took it and his strong fingers encircled my small limp hand.

"Hello, Paul. It's lovely to meet you. What will you have to drink?"

"An Evian water will be fine, thank you."

I was a little nervous to begin with but quickly relaxed. Nick was easy to talk to and we were soon in deep conversation. Over lunch he told me about himself and that he was a successful businessman with an office in Grosvenor Square.

"Paul," he said, "before we go any further with this there's something that I must make very clear. I would prefer to keep the fact that I am a homosexual as quiet as possible. I don't want it to become public knowledge that I'm gay as it could cause problems. If my father knew it would probably kill him, so the fewer people who know about me the better. So if this relationship is to progress I must insist that you be as discrete as possible."

"Of course, Nick. You have my word."

When I gave him my assurance he reached across the table and squeezed my hand. Electric sparks seemed to tingle up my arm and I didn't want him to release it.

"Good." He said. "I'm sure this is going to work out well for both of us."

After lunch as we walked in Kensington Gardens I asked him, "What exactly do you mean when you say you want someone to be your special lady?"

"I'll explain everything later when we know each other better, but in the meantime, if you'll allow me, I'd like to give you an occasional present.

"Ok. I always enjoy getting presents."

He handed me the box tied with the yellow ribbon he'd been carrying and said, " I bought this for you. I hope you like it."

We sat together on a bench and I carefully opened the lid. Nestling in the black velvet interior was a beautiful ladies gold watch. Tiny diamonds encircled the face and the strap was intricately woven gold links. It was beautiful; made by Raymond Weil it must have cost a fortune. I gasped as I looked at it and Nick thought I disapproved.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I should not have presumed you would like it. Let me take it back and we shall say no more about it."

"Oh no," I quickly replied, "I think it's lovely. It was a bit of a surprise is all. I can't possible accept it though."

""Why ever not?" he asked.

"Because it's far too expensive, and on our first meeting it is too over the top."

"Think nothing of the expense. I really want to give you a present to show you I appreciate your coming and meeting me."

"Ok then, if you're sure." I relented.

He removed the watch from its case and I held up my wrist. He gently fixed it round my arm. It was beautiful, so small and delicate, the diamonds sparkled as I moved and they caught the light.

"Thank you so much." I gushed. Then I spontaneously leant over, threw my arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. I'm not sure who was the more surprised.

Nick grinned when he saw my flustered state.

"I'm sorry I shouldn't have done that. Please forgive me." I stammered.

"That was the nicest thank you you could have given me. Come on, it's time we went."

We made our way out onto the Bayswater Road and I had a sudden urge to link arms with him. As we reached Lancaster Gate tube station he asked, "Would you like to meet again?"

"Yes, I'd love to. I have really enjoyed today. The lunch was excellent and I love the present you gave me."

"I'm afraid I'm not free again till next weekend. How about Saturday? We could go for a drive to the country." I nodded my agreement and he continued, "Great! Be here at nine thirty and I'll pick you up."

We parted then and I went home buoyed up in spirits like never before. I felt I was walking on air (to employ that overused cliché), my heart was singing. I was in love.

 

Chapter Seven

The girls immediately picked up my good humour when they arrived at the office next morning.

"Someone seems very happy this morning." Jill said. "Tell us what's put you in such a good mood."

Although I'd promised Nick I'd be discrete regarding our relationship I didn't feel I could exclude my two closest friends, so I told them what I'd done. They naturally wanted all the details; what was he like, where did he live et cetera. I told them what I knew, which wasn't an awful lot when it came to listing details.

"He gave me this." I said, holding up my arm to show them the wristwatch.

"My God!" exclaimed Jenny studying the timepiece closely. "It must have cost an absolute fortune."

While Jenny was admiring my watch Jill had disappeared into her own room, and reappeared shortly afterwards carrying a magazine.

"I knew I'd heard the name before," she said, "he's listed here in this directory of business leaders, listen. 'Nicholas J. Haydock, founder and CEO of Haydock Pharmaceuticals. Producers of the highly successful Zanildaptin the most widely used drug in the fight against AIDS and the Viagra derivative Kolomex. His corporation is also responsible for many well-known high street remedies for the treatment of the common cold, headaches and indigestion. He operates a research facility in Cambridge and has factories in Cardiff and Merthyr Tydfil. His estimated net worth is thought to be in the region of' wait for it, 'three hundred and fifty million dollars'. Looks like you've hit the jackpot, sweetie."

"Bloody hell." Jenny whispered. I was speechless.

"When are you seeing him again?" Jill enquired.

"Next Saturday, he's taking me for a drive in the country."

"Well we'd better do something with your hair before then."

"What's wrong with my hair?" I bristled. "I'm not getting it cut."

"No one said you should. But you need to get it tidied up and you have a lot of split ends that need removing. If you like I'll get my friend Barbara to call in at lunchtime, she's a hairdresser and she owes me a favour."

"Ok. But she's not to cut it short."

I have always worn my hair as long as I could get away with. Even when the fashion was for shaved heads and buzz cuts I kept mine long. In infants school long hair was regarded as cute, but not so in secondary school, but I was still somehow able to keep it at least collar length. When I moved on to college I let it grow even longer and tied it back in a ponytail. I had inherited the hair gene from my mother, and like hers mine was thick and heavy and a lustrous dark auburn colour. From as early as I can remember she had made sure that I took proper care for it, washing it daily with good shampoos and conditioners. I loved my hair and the thought of getting it cut short filled me with horror.

Work resumed, and I was soon immersed in the business of the day. I was surprised when the street door buzzed and I saw it was nearly one o'clock. I answered the intercom and a tinny voice said it was Barbara Kempton. I released the lock and a few minutes later she entered the room.

"Hi," she said, "Jill said I was to come and trim Pauline's hair. Where is she?"

"That's me." I said feeling slightly embarrassed. "My name is Paul really, but the girls always call me Pauline."

"I can understand why they do. You're very pretty."

I blushed scarlet, but was never the less flattered. She immediately got down to business setting out her equipment; scissors, combs, brushes, a bag of plastic rollers, an industrial size hairdryer and a nylon sheet.

"Pull your chair over here by the window where there's more light, and you'd better remove your top off so it doesn't get messed up."

I did as she ordered, scooting the chair backwards on its rollers, at the same time removing my top. Today I worn a simple cerise cotton jersey top with long bell-shaped sleeves, and it was only as I pulled it over my head I remembered I was also wearing my pink camisole.

"That's very nice," Barbara, said, "do you always wear women's underwear? It doesn't matter if you do," she hastily added before I could respond, "I've no problem with it. In fact several of my private clients have similar tastes. I regard it as a compliment to womankind that men want to wear our clothes. It's curious that women can happily wear any item of male clothing without anyone raising an eyebrow, but if a man wants to dress in our things there's a scandal."

She chattered on non-stop, not expecting or giving me an opportunity to answer. She swathed the cape round my upper body and fixed it at the back of my neck. I was a little alarmed when I saw the amount of hair that was falling to the floor, but she ignored my protests, saying it was only the ragged ends. Half an hour latter she declared the job completed.

"You have beautiful hair, Pauline, you obviously take very good care of it. I'd love to style it properly and perhaps give you a perm to really show it off."

"Thank you, Barbara, some other time perhaps. Can I see it?"

She released me from the protective sheet and I walked over to the mirror that hangs beside the entrance door. I loved it. She had trimmed and shaped it so that the back was curled under and the side bangs hung forward framing my face. She'd also straightened my fringe and cut it to about an inch above my eyebrows.

"You don't think it's a bit girly, do you?" I asked as I turned my head from side to side, watching the heavy hair sway.

"Not at all, pet. It's a perfect style for you face shape. Now remember if you want to get the full treatment I'll leave my card and you can make an appointment. I'll even throw in a manicure."

She packed her things and was gone before I have time to ask her about the cost.

 

Chapter Eight

The remainder of the week seem to drag on interminably; I couldn't wait for Saturday. I considered texting or emailing but knowing what I now did about his business I didn't think it would be a good idea. I went to work each day but found it hard to concentrate, images of Nick kept filling my mind.

On Friday evening when I arrived home I was delighted to find an email waiting: -

My Dear Paul. I hope you are still willing to meet again tomorrow? I am very much looking forward to seeing you again. Love Nick.

 

On my way home on the same evening that Barbara had cut my hair, I'd stopped at a little charity shop near my apartment and purchased a new blouse. The woman who ran it was a sweet old lady with failing eyesight but I was still a little nervous going in. Luckily there were no other customers and the old lady appeared quite unconcerned as I sorted through the rail of dresses, skirts and tops. The one I selected was white silk with a motif of tiny pink roses and a ruffle of lace down the front concealing the buttons. It had full balloon sleeves fastened with three fabric-covered buttons at the cuffs and a Peter Pan collar.

"That's a very pretty blouse you've chosen," she said as I handed it to her. "If you'd like to try it on there's a changing room in the back."

"Oh, no thank you. I'm sure it will fit." I said, assuming I'd been mistaken for a girl again.

I did try it on when I got home, however, and immediately realized that whatever camisole I wore underneath would be visible through the thin material. The next evening meant a diversion to Janus Tailors, Bespoke Gentlemen's Outfitters where the same unctuous attendant no only sold me a white silk panty and cami but also a beautiful peach full length nightgown and negligee, or as he described it, gentlemen's night attire.

When Saturday finally arrived I arose early filled with a feeling of anticipation and excitement. After showering and dusting my body with the sweet smelling mimosa talc, I slipped the newly acquired white panties up my legs followed by the matching cami. I slipped my arms into the sleeves of the blouse and buttoned the cuffs. I was intensely aware of how sensitive my skin was; the gentle caress of the fabric gave me goose bumps down my arms. The soft whispery hiss of silk on silk was heavenly. I pulled on my hipsters then I pushed my sock-less feet into a pair of black slip-on Oxfords. I wore the velvet jacket again and was pleased that it matched my blouse.

I got the tube to Lancaster Gate and was waiting on the footpath when a large black Lexus LS460 pulled into the kerb. The door opened and I slid into the leather passenger seat. Nick was smiling broadly and looking devastatingly handsome in a casual sports jacket, open-necked shirt and jeans.

"Hi," he said, "it's good to see you again."

"Hello, Nick. It's nice to see you too."

As we were held at traffic lights in the Edgware Road, Nick turned to me and said, "I hope you don't mind me saying this, but you look absolutely lovely. I love your top and your hair is so nice. Have you had it styled?"

"Why thank you kind sir," I replied. "Flattery will get you just about anything. And no I haven't had my hair styled, just trimmed a little."

He drove easily and confidently and we were soon speeding along the M40 towards Oxford. We chatted away as we left the sprawl of London behind and headed into the countryside. Our talk was mostly about inconsequential things, but he loaded me with frequent compliments about the way I was dressed, my hair, my looks, and how many 'real' girls would love to look like me.

"But I'm not a girl, Nick, you know that." I felt I had to correct him when he began comparing me to generic women.

"Of course I know you're not a true girl, but you could quite easily become a very stunning imitation of one."

"Do you really think so?" I asked.

"Yes, most definitely. With the correct guidance, the right clothes and bit of make-up, no one would ever know the difference. I could help you if you wanted."

"I don't know what to say." I said. "It's true that I prefer slightly effeminate clothes, but I have never considered going all the way and dressing as a girl. What would people think?"

"If they didn't know you were a boy they'd think you were a lovely young woman."

"You know what? It might be fun to try, so long as I wasn't found out." I said, offering a silent prayer that I wasn't getting into something sordid or humiliating, that might even be dangerous.

"To help you make up you mind I have a present for you." He said. "Reach over, it's on the back seat."

I swivelled round in my seat and retrieved a gift-wrapped small flat box.

"Before you open it I want you to understand that this is purely a gift, and not in any way an inducement. If you feel you cannot accept it that's perfectly OK, but I would love you to have it."

I nodded my head in agreement wondering what on earth it could be. I carefully removed the wrapping, gingerly pushed down on the clasp and slowly raised the lid. Inside were a double strand pearl necklace and two enormous pearl drop earrings.

"Oh Nick," I exclaimed. "They're beautiful. Thank you so much." Knowing what he was worth I didn't consider for a moment what they would have cost. Whatever the price it would be peanuts to a man of his wealth. "But I can't wear these."

"Why ever not?"

"Well these are for a woman. And anyway, my ears are not pierced." I added lamely.

Just then we arrived at Cherwell Valley services and Nick pulled up to the petrol pumps.

"That's not a problem. While I fill up the car, you go inside where I happen to know there is a jeweller who will pierce your ears.

"Do you think I should? Won't he think it strange for a boy to get both his ear pierced?" I said.

"Of course he won't. Boys get their ears pierced all the time nowadays. Nothing strange in that."

I hurried inside and located the jeweller. As Nick had said the man never made a comment, simply sterilized each lobe, stabbed a hole through it and inserted a small gold ring. Piece of cake, and not very painful. Nick arrived as I was examining his work in a small hand mirror and paid the man. When we returned to the car Nick took the necklace from its box and fastened it round my neck. It was out of sight inside my shirt but I was acutely aware of the weight of the pearls.

"At least you can wear these whilst your ears are healing."

We spent the day touring the Cotswolds. Admiring the lovely stone cottages in the quaint little villages. We stopped for a leisurely lunch at a pub in Lower Slaughter before heading over to Stratford-upon-Avon where we joined the throngs of tourist looking at Shakespeare's birthplace, the river and the theatre. As we walked down Bridge Street Nick suddenly disappeared into a shop and reappeared a few minutes later with a single red rose, which he gallantly presented to me, to my utter mortification. He was always very attentive, constantly asking if I was comfortable, did I need anything; was there anything I wanted to do? I was almost overwhelmed by the attention.

It was late in the evening when we arrived back in London and he left me near my flat. I thanked him for the lovely day and asked if we would meet again.

"I'm afraid I have to go to the United States for the next two weeks on business, but as soon as I get back I'll call you."

"Oh. OK," I said, unable to keep the disappointment from my voice.

 

Chapter Nine

On Monday morning the first thing the girls wanted to know was what had happened and had he given me a present. I described our day out and then showed them the necklace and earrings.

"Oh they are so beautiful." was Jill's verdict. "But these are for pierced ears."

"I know." And pulled my hair back so show them the gold rings in my lobes.

"You got your ears pierced!" Jenny squealed. "That is so cool."

The following Sunday after my usual routine of run, hair removal and long soak, I reckoned my ears had healed sufficiently to remove the sleepers. I had been dying to try the pearls but I had diligently followed the advice of the jeweller to keep the wounds clean and swabbed with disinfectant and not to rush things. When I pushed the hook through the hole the unaccustomed weight felt very strange but they looked wonderful. I put on the necklace and my little jewelled watch then admired myself in the mirror. For the remainder of the day I lazed about the flat dressed in panties, cami, my newly purchased negligee and my stunning pearls. It was heavenly and I was disappointed when I had to remove them before going to bed.

On Wednesday I received an email from Nick stating that he would be arriving back in the UK on Thursday and hoping I would be free to see him on Saturday as he had something very important that he wished to discuss with me.

Another visit to the charity shop had yielded a rather nice blue suede jacket with two front patch pocket and four large buttons. I'd also found a pair of soft crepe, navy-blue slacks with a matching eyelet belt. Under the jacket I wore a scoop necked white tee shirt. I was afraid to wear the necklace or earrings as they would be too obvious but I did wear my watch. I decided I looked perfect, just the right amount of femininity to be androgynous.

We agreed to meet at the Wellington Arch at two o'clock. As I came out of Hyde Park Corner tube station I saw him waiting. He was smiling hugely as he watched my approach and when we met I spontaneously went up on my toes and kissed him on the lips. We were both a bit embarrassed by my gesture and for a few seconds neither of us quite knew what to do, then Nick burst out laughing and the tension was gone. I joined his infection laughter giggling like a girl, clasped his arm and began walking. We strolled round Green Park crossed The Mall and walked in St. James's Park stopping occasionally on a bench to rest. We talked incessantly, but I cannot remember a single thing we said. We were just so happy in each other's company.

At about five Nick suggested we start making our way back. As we came onto Piccadilly he asked if I'd like to go to his apartment.

"We can have some supper and a drink. I have a very nice bottle of a seventy-two Chateau Talbot I have been saving for a special occasion. And I have something important I want to discuss with you."

"I'd love to," I replied, hoping I didn't sound too eager.

We soon arrived in Curzon Street and Nick punched his code into the keypad that opened the lift. His apartment was huge, covering the entire top floor of the building. He gave me the tour, starting in the enormous lounge with the giant TV and sound system. The kitchen with every appliance one would ever need. The master bedroom decorated in masculine browns and rugged furniture. And finally the second bedroom tastefully done up in soft pastels, pinks and whites. It was very obviously a woman's room. He noticed my puzzlement and explained that it was his ex-wife's.

"She took off when she discovered I was gay. Left everything behind and has never been back. The divorce cost me a small fortune, but I'm happier without her."

After a superb cold supper of smoked salmon, salad and fresh baked bread we sat together of the couch sipping the remains of the Bordeaux. Nick carefully placed his wine glass on the coffee table, turned toward me and said.

"Paul, I want to put a proposition to you. But please hear me out before you make any response."

He held his hand up to stop me saying anything, then went on.

"Do you remember on our first date I mentioned the importance of discretion and the problems my homosexuality could cause if it becomes public knowledge?"

I nodded agreement.

"Well, what I need is a partner. Someone I can confidently be seen in public with, and whom I can escort to whatever functions I need to attend et cetera. That person will not only have to appear to be an attractive woman, not someone who looks vaguely feminine, but also be able to stand close inspection. It will have to be someone who is totally convincing in the role and who is willing to live this way full time. To achieve this deception I'll need someone who is willing to masquerade as a female, to dress and live the life of a girl on a permanent basis. Now Paul, this is where you come in. I want you to be that person. It will be a big step for you to take and I will understand if you want some time to decide."

I was flabbergasted by his proposal. "Are you saying you want me to undergo some sort of an operation and be changed into a girl?"

"No nothing like that. There will no permanent physical changes. If you ever want to stop doing it all you'll have to do is change back into male clothes and maybe get your hair cut."

"But why?"

"Because, Paul, I have fallen in love with you and this is the only way I can be with you. And believe me, I do want to be with you – all the time. I want you to be a part of my life. I want it to be you I'm seeing when I close my eyes at night and you when I open them again in the morning and all the time in between."

"Oh, Nick. That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. I love you too. These last weeks have been the happiest of my life. But what about my work, my friends? My mother will have a fit when she finds out."

Then I suddenly thought: I wonder will she? I remembered all the times during my childhood when she encouraged me to wear girly underwear; she had even made most of it. No she probably wouldn't be too worried.

"Forget about work. If you accept this offer you will never have to worry about money again. I'm a rich man; I'll provide everything you need. You'll have no-limit credit cards, buy the finest clothes, jewellery, a car, anything. I mentioned before that I could help you if you wanted to be a girl. I know of people whose job it is to teach boys the correct way to dress, apply make-up, walk, talk et cetera. Why don't you give it a couple of months trial and if after that period you don't want to continue then that will be an end of it?"

"I don't know what to say." I said. "I'll have to think about this a lot. It's a huge step. It would mean a complete change in my life. Would I ever be able to step out of role?"

"No. I'm sorry, but if you take this on it's the whole thing or nothing. There'll be no more scruffy jeans and tee shirts. No dirty trainers. No bad habits or letting yourself go. Your appearance and behaviour are of the utmost importance. You will always wear the most feminine dresses, or skirts and tops. You will never be without appropriate make-up, your hair will always be perfect and you will always wear heeled shoes. You may think I'm being a bit harsh but those are my conditions."

"Can I sleep on it before I give you an answer?"

"Of course, in fact why don't you stay here the night. You can use Gloria's bedroom, there's everything in there a girl could possible need."

Nick stood and held his hand down to me. I took it and he gently pulled me to my feet. We stood very close for a moment then as if by some unheard command I raised my face to his and his lips found mine. His strong arms enfolded me; our lips hovered against each other, barely touching. For an instant they lightly brushed before mashing together with a passion that almost frightened me. I felt his tongue on my hot lips; I instinctively parted them to admit its probing entry. I tasted his saliva mixing it with my own producing an intoxicating mixture. He explored the inside of my mouth, my teeth, and my tongue then slowly began thrusting deep into my mouth. It felt how I imagined a small penis would feel.

How long the kiss lasted I have no idea, but we eventually parted gasping for breath. My knees felt week, my heart rate was racing and I was slightly surprised to find I had an erection. So also had Nick. I could clearly feel his hard tumescence pressing against my stomach. He released me from his arms and took my hand. He led me to Gloria's room. At the door he gazed deeply into my eyes then placed his hands either side of face, brushing my hair back, and kissed me once more. This had none of the former passion but was of such sweet tenderness I almost swooned.

"Good night my darling." He whispered.

"Good night Nick."

 

Chapter Ten

When I awoke the next morning my first thought was 'He wants me to live with him as a girl.' And my second thought was 'Do I want to live as a girl?' Then after only a seconds hesitation I decided 'Yes, I do. I want to be the beautiful woman in the life of the man I love.'

Now the decision was made I felt relaxed and comfortable, filled with a feeling of exciting anticipation. I lay in the big soft bed between satin sheets, wearing a nylon baby-doll nightie that I didn't remember donning the night before. I had no idea what time it was, but I detected the inviting aroma of coffee brewing so guessed it was time to get up. After a quick shower I remembered what he'd said about being ultra feminine so I looked for something to wear. I found the perfect thing in a frothy nylon floor-length negligee. The hem, the borders and the sleeve ends were trimmed with pink ostrich feather. I slipped it over my naked body and knotted the sash. In a closet filled with shoes I found a pair of high-heeled mules trimmed with the same pink feathers. I wobbled a little when I put them on as I'd had no practice at walking in heels, but again remembering what he'd said I decided it was time I started.

I practiced walking round the room a couple of times then checked myself in the large ornate cheval mirror that stood to the side of the vanity unit. I brushed my hair and fluffed it up a bit, then applied a touch of lipstick. I was afraid to use any other make-up because being inexperienced I was sure to mess it up, but the hint of lippy was just right. I liked what I saw. As I turned to leave I glanced over my shoulder I saw that the filmy negligee with quite see-through and it was obvious I wore nothing beneath the flimsy covering. I liked it even more.

Nick was making toast when I entered the kitchen. He was wearing white silk pyjamas with royal blue piping and his feet were bare. When he saw me his mouth dropped open then a smile spread across his mouth.

"Oh my, you look sensational, baby. Does this mean you have made a decision?"

"Yes I have. Miss Pauline Newbury graciously accept the offer made to her by Mr Nicholas Haydock to become his live-in girlfriend."

"Oh that's wonderful. I am so happy. You won't regret it I promise. Come here and let me kiss you, you beautiful creature."

We kissed with all the passion that had been pent up inside us since the first time we'd met. It was many minutes before our mouths parted and we separated breathing heavily. I stepped back a pace and dropped my eyes feeling slightly embarrassed by the desire I felt for this man. As I looked down I saw Nick's erect penis protruding from the fly of his pyjamas. As if directed by some external power my hand reached forward and my fingers encircled his rod of hot flesh. Other than my own I'd never touched another mans cock and what I was doing now both astonished and excited me. It felt very hot and hard, but the covering of skin gave it a strangely soft feel. I slowly began stoking the organ in the same manner I often did my own during my lonely fantasies.

A deep groan came from Nick's throat and I thought for a moment I'd done something wrong, but when I looked at his face his eyes were tightly closed and an ecstatic smile covered his mouth. I masturbated him slowly for several minutes till he stopped me. Taking my hand he led me through to the lounge. We stood facing one another, and I watched enthralled as he unbuttoned his pyjama jacket and dropped it to the floor. He untied the knot in the string of the bottoms and let them fall around his ankle. His penis stood erect and proud atop his sturdy thighs and swayed heavily when he kicked the pj's away.

He then reached for the sash of my negligee, took an end in each hand and pulled the single bow apart. His hands moved inside the silky material and rested on my waist, then slowly glided up my body, over my chest, pausing to gently squeeze and caress my nipples, finally sliding the gown off my shoulders, leaving me naked and erect before his adoring gaze.

We lay together on the couch and once more began to kiss. He took my hand and placed it on his cock. I knew what to do now and began to wank him. At the same time I felt his hand take my smaller prick and start to masturbate it. We gazed into each other's eyes then watched our hands skilfully bring us to the verge of eruption.

So great was my excitement, that my climax was explosive and spectacular. My sperm was ejaculated with such force that some landed on Nick's face and subsequent pulses covered both our bodies. Very soon after I'd emptied my nuts, Nick erupted with the same impressive results.

We broke apart and lay together breathing heavily, bathed in the mixed outpouring of our testicles. I looked at Nick and started to giggle when I noticed a dribble of cum slowly dripping off his nose onto his lips. I didn't know if it was his or mine; I just lent across and licked it from his face. I licked all there was from his face and his neck; them worked my way downward cleaning his body of all traces of semen. Finally I arrived at his flaccid penis, which was still oozing and I unhesitatingly took the head into my mouth and sucked any remaining nectar from it.

I'd always thought the idea of swallowing cum to be slightly repulsive, and I never dreamed I would ever do it. But after consuming our combined offerings from Nick's sweaty body, I was pleasantly surprised at how nice it tasted. In fact I wanted more. I continued sucking Nick's cock and caressing his balls and slowly it began to stiffen and fill with blood, expanding till it filled my mouth completely. I so loved the sensation of a hot, living penis filling my mouth that it caused my own member to re-awaken. I slid to the carpet and crawled between Nick's legs. On my knees I paid homage to his wonderfully handsome cock as I sucked and stroked it to a shuddering orgasm, which despite his earlier ejaculation filled my mouth to overflowing. I was obliged to sallow furiously so as to not lose any.

For the next couple of hours we lay together kissing, masturbating, sucking and whispering declarations of love to each other. Eventually we got up and ate some food. Nick didn't put his pyjamas back on explaining that he preferred to remain naked, and usually spent his time nude whenever he was alone in the apartment. I was happy to remain naked also but he insisted I wear the negligee.

"You have to understand Pauline, that it's seeing you in sexy women's clothes that turns me on. To my mind there is nothing as exciting as a pretty boy in a feminine dress. Come with me."

Holding my hand we walked into Gloria's room. He opened her closet door and walking in. A few minutes later he emerged with an armful of clothing, which he threw onto the bed. Then he began selecting items from various drawers till be appeared satisfied with what he had.

"These will do to begin with." He said. "We're going to start your education at dressing as a woman. Put these on please."

He had handed me a small bundle of lacy silk and when I separated it I saw they were a matching bra, panties and suspender belt.

"Would you mind helping me please," I said. "I've only ever worn panties and I'm not altogether sure how to put these on." I held up the bra and garter belt in each hand.

"It'll be my pleasure."

Taking the suspender belt he passed it round my waist and clipped it together at the back.

"If you are doing this on your own, you'll probably find it easier to fasten it at the front then swivel it around your waist. Make sure it's centred correctly or else the garter tabs won't be in the right position to hold up your stockings."

Next he opened a new packet of nylons.

"You must always be most careful when handling stockings, especially these fine 15 denier ones, as it is easy to ladder them. And nothing looks worse that a stocking with a run in it. No lady would ever dream of going out in damaged hosiery. "

As he talked he gently rolled the nylon into a do-nut shape. I sat on the vanity stool and Nick knelt at my feet. He placed circle over my toes then very carefully worked it over my heel and up my leg. When the thicker welt was pulled up to my thigh he told me to stand and showed me how to clip the garter-tab to the stocking, first at the front then at the back. He repeated the same operation on the second leg.

I was immediately enamoured with the marvellous sensation of the shear nylon encasing my legs and thighs; the tug of the elasticated tabs and the erotic look of the frilly, lacy belt. Whilst Nick was still no his knees, he lifted my foot and pushed it into a shoe then buckled the tiny strap at the side of my ankle. He repeated the other shoe and I wobbled on the four-inch stilettos. He then held the panties ready for me to step into. I had to steady myself by holding onto his bare shoulder as I raised first one foot then the other. He slowly eased the panties up my nylon clad legs, giving me the most exquisite sensation, so that by the time he had the thong snuggled into the crack of my buttocks it was impossible for my hard cock to be restrained within the delicate material.

"I assume from your reaction that you like wearing stockings and suspenders?"

"Oh Nick." I exclaimed. "It's wonderful. I never realized how lovely it felt to have my legs covered in sexy nylon. And the panties are beautiful too. Hold my hand while I get used to the heels, please. I want to try walking."

Together we walked round the room, me clad in fine lace and nylon, Nick naked, and both of us sporting fine erections.

"Now it's time for your bra." Nick said.

"Why do I need a bra?" I asked. "I don't have any breasts."

"Not now you don't, but you may in the future. Any anyway every girl wears a bra, it's part of what makes them special."

I put my arms through the shoulder straps and he hooked it together at the back.

"To begin with you might find it easier to fasten your bra like you did your suspender belt, back to front, then spin it round. Here insert these into your bra cups."

He handed me a pair of very realistic looking breast forms. I put one into each cup and settled them till they felt comfortable. They filled my bra perfectly and their weight and softness made them jiggle in a very life-like way. I looked down at my cleavage and cupped my newly acquired breasts with both hands gently squeezing them.

"Mmm, feels nice. I wish they were the real thing." I murmured, not realizing I'd verbalized my thoughts.

"Arms up." He said. He lowered a white satin full slip over my head and smoothed it down my body moulding it to my newly acquired contours. The hem was richly adorned with lace, as was the bust. Finally he indicated I should step into the floral-print cotton dress he held open. He worked it up over my hips and bust, I inserted my arms into the cap sleeves and he zipped me up.

"Now Pauline how does that feel?"

"Oh, wonderful. I never knew how exciting it is to wear these lovely clothes. It feels so different and thrilling. They make me feel so feminine."

"I'm so glad you like it. You look sensational. With some make-up, a proper hair do and a bit of coaching on how to move and walk, no one would ever know that you are really a boy. Now I have some work to do and while I do it I want you to practice getting dressed and undressed. Every hour I want you change your clothes then to come to the office in a completely new ensemble. Including underwear and shoes. Gloria left masses of things behind so you shouldn't have a problem finding something different. In between changes you can busy yourself about the apartment. First off you can make some fresh coffee then later you can bring me some lunch."

He then left me alone in this amazing Aladdin's cave of feminine finery. For the remainder of the day I was in heaven. When I wasn't changing outfits, I was selecting the next. I quickly got the hang of hooks and eyes, buttons and bows, and zippers. I soon mastered all the different types of fastenings essential when wearing women's underwear and dresses. I became adept at walking in heels. After several hours my calves ached and my toes hurt but I didn't mind.

After the umpteenth change I presented myself for his inspection.

"Excellent, Pauline. You are really getting the hang of it now. You look more beautiful each time." Despite myself, I blushed. "For your next outfit, Gloria has a little black cocktail dress that I want you to wear. I've also noticed you've been practicing with your make-up, so put some on your eyes and lips, Try to style you hair a bit more formally and wear some jewellery. Because at seven-thirty I've arranged for caterers to bring and serve dinner. So I want you looking your best."

 

Chapter Eleven

On the stroke of seven-thirty the buzzer sounded. "Get that, sweetheart." Nick shouted from his bedroom. He was still getting dressed but I had been ready for ages. Who says women take forever to get ready?

I checked the CCTV then released the locks. A few minutes later the apartment's doorbell rang.

"Let them in, darling and show them where to set up."

I was opening the door before I remembered what I was wearing. Apart from Nick, no other person had ever seen me dressed fully en-femme. Ok, the girls in the office new I wore panties and had a fondness for girly clothes, but I had never turned up wearing a black mini cocktail dress, dark beige stockings, three inch sling-backs, and make-up. So I had a momentary panic attack as two Chinese men walked in carrying large cooler boxes.

"Where you want, Miss?" the older of the two asked.

"Oh. Follow me please."

I led them into the kitchen and showed them where the plates and cutlery et cetera was stored, then hurriedly retreated to the lounge. Nick had just entered and immediately saw my distress.

"What's wrong, darling?"

He took me into his strong arms as I blubbered something about the caterers seeing me dressed like this.

"I told you," he reassured, "you look incredible. No one will ever know you're a boy. Now stop panicking and give me a kiss."

Our lips came together and for several minutes I was lost in the raptures of a deep passionate kiss. I heard a discreet cough and we finally separated. I saw the two men standing in the room watching us. I was so mortified to be seen kissing another man in such a wanton manner that I hid my face against Nick's chest in an effort to hide my blushes.

"Are Sir and Madam ready to be served?"

"In a few minutes, Mr. Chang. First we'll have a drink. My girlfriend will have a glass of Champagne, and I'll have a gin and tonic."

As we sipped our drinks I became more relaxed. The alcohol helped to alleviate my inhibitions and I was soon returned to my old femmy self, flirting with Nick and mincing around in my heels.

At a signal from Nick Mr. Chang and his assistant escorted us into the dining room where an excellently laid table was set for two people. Seating us on opposite sides of the table they then served us the most delicious three-course meal complete with a superb bottle of claret. It was so romantic dining by candlelight and being attended by two efficient and deferential waiters. Nick looked devastatingly handsome in his tuxedo and spotless white shirt, and I felt very glamorous in my little black dress and pearls. Afterward we took our coffee and brandies into the lounge and sat together on the couch while the caterers cleared up and then quietly left.

Nick picked up a remote control handset, pressed a button and music filled the room. He took my hand and we began to dance. The music was slow and smoochy and I was soon snuggled against his chest. I felt small and vulnerable being held in his strong arms as he led me round the room. I was soon aware of his hardness pressing into me and of my own arousal.

He nibbled my ear and whispered "Pauline, you know what I want, don't you?"

Of course I knew. It was perfectly obvious. "Yes." I replied. "I want it too."

Without another word he led me through to his bedroom and silently undressed. I watched him strip off his clothing till he stood naked. His rampant erection stood proud before him, his heavy balls hanging below. I wasn't sure what I should do but he took charge, sitting on the edge of the bed he indicated I should get to my knees. I needed no further guidance. I dropped down and took his cock in both hands. It was so hot and hard with a bead of pre-cum glistening on his bell-end. I leant forward, put out my tongue and licked the pearl from his glowing knob. Then as if on autopilot I opened my mouth and took him in. I swirled my tongue around the gland, then opened my throat and swallowed his full length. I almost gagged before lifting up, then again lowering my head taking him in. Nick leaned back on his elbows and groaned with pleasure.

I was happy to continue my adoration of his penis, but I felt his hands on my shoulders lifting me to my feet. He turned me round then gently pushed me back onto the bed. It was his turn to be on his knees now. His big strong hands caressed my nylon-covered thighs and slowly pushed my skirt up to my waist. His thumbs hooked into the tops of my panties and pulled them down my legs. Released from its lacy imprisonment my rigid cock sprang up twitching in anticipation. His hot mouth engulfed my cock and he sucked me at the same time fondling my balls. To my disappointment he released my prick from his mouth and moved down to on my balls. He took my complete ball sack into his hot mouth and his tongue massaged my balls. His questing tongue moved from my testicles downward to my rosebud and I felt the exquisite sensation of his probing tongue forcing its way into me. Then his fingers found my secret opening and I felt him push in a digit then a second lubricated with his saliva. I knew I needed to relax my virgin hole or else it would be painful. He finger fucked me for several minutes in which time I relaxed sufficiently to ease any pain. Too soon he stopped and I felt something cold and greasy being applied to my anus. I said a silent 'thank you' that he was using a lubricant.

The blunt end of his penis nudged against my pussy and I thought 'oh my god, I'll never be able to take it all,' but at the same time I wanted it more that anything in the world. I relaxed my sphincter as I felt the pressure increase and suddenly the bulbous head slipped in. He waited for a few moments while I got accustomed to the alien invasion then gradually he pushed the rest of his length into me. He felt enormous and I thought I would faint, but when he bottomed out he paused.

"Are you Ok, my darling?" he whispered. "I'll stop if you say so."

"Ah no, don't." I gasped. "Just give me a minute to get used to it. You are so big."

Very quickly the pain eased to be replaced with a feeling of pleasure. I let him know I was ready for more by wrapping my legs around his waist and pushing my bottom up against his impaling prong. He began to slowly withdrawal then thrust forward gradually increasing the tempo till he was riding me like his prize filly. The sensation of a cock pounding into my rectum was exquisite. The more he rammed it into me the more I wanted. My arms and legs were wrapped tightly round him in an effort to draw every last millimetre into my eager boy-pussy.

All too soon it seemed Nick let out a strangled cry. With his cock buried as deeply into me as was possible, he let go his boiling spunk. I could clearly feel his organ throbbing as he shot charge after charge into my depths. At the same instant as he filled my eager tunnel, my own prick twitched and spontaneously spurted its load, soaking my lovely dress.

We lay locked together panting for breath like hunting dogs after a long chase. It was several minutes before either of us could speak.

"Ah, my beautiful girly-boy, that was wonderful." Nick sighed. "The best fuck I've ever had."

"Oh yes." I agreed. "Although it was my first time, it was fantastic. I didn't know that getting fucked in the bottom could be so good. When can we do it again?"

We did it several more times that night.

 

Chapter Twelve

As Nick had promised he employed what was called 'a gender guidance counsellor'. Her name was Wanda Lingfield, she was in her early thirties and breathtakingly beautiful. Standing nearly six feet tall she had the presence and grace of a catwalk model. Like most models her figure was very slim; her hips were angular and her bust small. Her blond hair was cut in a pageboy bob that framed her elfin face. Her facial features were perfectly formed; a fine chiselled nose above cupid bow lips and large green eyes. She also wore fashionable wire framed spectacles (that I later discovered were simply for effect). In short she displayed every attribute I desired and aspired to.

The first few days were devoted to teaching me deportment. I walked for miles in high heels around the apartment with a heavy book balanced on my head so as to correct the slightly ungainly way I had of walking. At the same time my elbows were strapped to my torso to prevent me 'flapping my wings' and my knees were hobbled to stop me taking too longer strides.

She also coached me in elocution and diction as well as a technique to pitch my voice half an octave higher. I developed an attractive lilt that helped to disguise the more masculine vowel sounds. I read poems and pieces of prose into a tape recorder that were then played back and I was encouraged to analyse my mistakes and work out ways of improving my speech.

At the same time she was teaching me dress sense; how to co-ordinate different outfits and match colours. I was taught how to recognize different fabrics and which were the most suitable for different clothes. What shoes to wear for each occasion and how to stand and walk for long periods in high heels.

As well as all the above I spent hours in front of the mirror applying make-up and removing it. I was instructed on how best to treat my eyes and lashes, various techniques to paint my lips, which foundation was most appropriate for different occasions. I learnt tricks that accentuated my features to the best effect for both formal and casual occasions. By the end I was as accomplished as Wanda herself.

After three weeks intensive training she declared herself satisfied with my progress so far, and as a reward for all my hard work, I was to be allowed a trip to the shops.

This would be only the second occasion I'd left the apartment since I'd agreed to Nick's terms. I had made one trip to the office to explain and apologise to the girls why I was leaving so suddenly and collect my few belongings. Jill and Jenny were very sorry to see me go but fully understood that I would be mad not to accept Nick's offer. George was upset because he had come to regard me as the son/daughter he and Mable had never had. I later learned that Nick had made them an offer they could not possibly refuse to secure my release from their employment.

I had foolishly assumed I'd be wearing my boy clothes as I always did whenever I went out in public, and was therefore, surprised when I found that Wanda had laid out a grey worsted pencil skirt and a blue pin-strip silk blouse, together with underwear, hose and 3" court shoes. I was very nervous as I dressed as this would be the very first time I'd been outside dressed entirely en-femme. When I confessed my misgivings to Wanda she assured me I had nothing to worry about and that no one would ever think I was anything other than a lovely young girl out shopping with her friend.

And so it transpired. We took a taxi to Marble Arch and walked down Oxford Street. After a hesitant foray into Marks and Spencer my confidence grew and after an hour or so I was shopping with the best of them. We visited Selfridges, Debenhams, House of Fraser and John Lewis. It was a thrilling experience selecting various dresses or skirts and tops from the racks. I'd ask Wanda what she thought as I held an item against myself, and if she wasn't sure I'd ask the shop assistants for their opinions. We laughed and giggled like two schoolgirls in our excitement, then with arms full of clothes we'd enter the changing room and happily try on the things we'd selected.

Having done Oxford Street we took another taxi and instructed to driver to take us to Harvey Nichols in Sloan Street. On entering the store, Wanda made a beeline for the lingerie department; I followed in her wake loaded down with bags. It was a heavenly experience to uninhibitedly hunt through piles and piles of delicious feminine underwear, examining and discussing the various merits of this bra or that panty. Wanda made several selections and beckoned me to follow her into the changing cubicle. It was as she was stripping off that I made the staggering discovery that Wanda was a man. She had stripped to her panties and my envious attention was focused on her small but perfectly formed breasts. Her nipples were engorged and prominent and plainly evident as she slipped on a new bra. As she turned from side to side looking at herself in the mirror she asked me what I thought.

I was then I noticed the prominent bulge in the front of her panties. Wanda was getting a hard on. I started in open-mouthed amazement. At first I thought she was wearing a maxi pad that had somehow gone askew but as I looked closer the outline of her cock was clearly visible inside her sheer panties. I was speechless.

"Well what do you thing, Pauline? Isn't this the dreamiest bra, so soft and sexy."

She noticed where I was staring, then started to giggle.

"Yes, it's terrible isn't it? Trying on new lingerie always has this affect on me." I stared in speechless bewilderment. "Didn't you know?" she asked. "I thought Nick had told you."

"No." I stammered. "He never said. I had no idea you were a guy."

"Of course I am, you silly girl. I hope you're not shocked?"

She continued trying different bras and camisoles as if it was perfectly normal for two men, dressed as women, to be in a changing room of a prestigious London store, debating which items of lingerie they liked best.

Of course I should have recognized, or at least suspected that Wanda was a guy. She had always struck me as having some indefinable masculine element, but I had assumed it was just her manner. And on reflection, Nick would naturally engage a transvestite because who is better qualified to know how to mimic a woman than a man who lives his life as a female? It all made perfect sense. He wanted a companion who could successfully masquerade as a woman, someone he could confidently be seen in public with, and whom no one would suspect was anything other than what she appeared to be. But in private he could satisfy his homosexual desires with the boy he loved. So this was the perfect solution.

After I accepted the fact that Wanda wasn't all she appeared to be, I happily immersed myself in the thrill of shopping. Now that I knew we were both men the day took on a new degree of excitement. The secret we shared created a much higher level of eroticism. The knowledge that we were two guys indulging our idiosyncrasies in all things feminine with the active participation of the shop girls was exquisitely exhilarating.

Eventually we called a halt to our extravagances, principally because we couldn't carry any more bags. I didn't even attempt to work out what we had spent. I knew Nick wouldn't care so why should I?

 

Chapter Thirteen

With the completion of Wanda's tuition I now felt very comfortable in my role as a woman. I was a natural she claimed, someone who should have been born a girl. Her endeavours coupled with my partially Asian appearance and slight build, had had the curious effect of making me appear five years younger. Indeed on a few occasions I had even dressed as a schoolgirl in gymslip, knee socks and blazer and been totally convincing. So convincing that I had been refused entry to over eighteens films in the cinema. Dressed thus I gave the impression I was Nick's daughter rather than his lover.

To mark the end of the trial period, Nick took me to The Trocadero restaurant in Piccadilly Circus, and over dinner he asked me for my decision. There really wasn't any other option because I dearly loved living as a girl. I loved all the paraphernalia and the accoutrements that went with the role. I loved the attention I attracted from men and the envious looks from women. But most of all, I adored being loved by my handsome boyfriend, and if he wanted me to appear to be a woman, then I was more than happy to do so.

"Oh I am so glad that you want to continue." Nick said. "I promise to make you the happiest girl in the world."

After the meal we strolled hand in hand down Haymarket to Trafalgar Square. Sitting on the steps of the National Gallery we watched the crowds milling around the fountains and gazing up at Nelson.

"Pauline," Nick began, "I'd like to give you a present if you'll accept it. It's a little unusual so if you refuse it I won't mind."

"What on earth can it be?" I asked my curiosity now aroused.

"You said sometime ago that you wished you had real breasts and didn't need to wear falsies."

I nodded in agreement. "Yes I did, but at the same time I don't want implants or to take hormones."

"I understand that. What I'm offering is something new. Simply put it's this. One of my research teams has developed a method of extracting stem cells from adipose fat tissue, usually taken from the buttocks or thighs. These stem cells are cultured then injected into the breast where they then develop into natural breast flesh. The beauty of this procedure is that as these are your own cells there is no rejection and the newly growing tissue produces its own blood vessels and becomes a living part of the breast. We have successfully used this procedure on women who have had mastectomies and also for breast augmentation. In all cases there have been no adverse side effects and the women say that they can tell no difference from the real thing. In fact in several cases they report heightened sensitivity in the whole breast area and in particular in the nipple and aureole. So what do you say?"

"It sounds like an answer to my prayers. When can I get it done?" I said without a moment's hesitation.

"I'll set up an appointment with Dr. Kelso first thing in the morning and you can get your initial shot within the week. You will need to repeat the procedure after three months then in about six months time your breasts will be fully grown. A word of caution, though, don't expect to get a huge pair of breasts, our results indicate that although the growth is natural the breasts are somewhat smaller than normal. So don't expect them to grow any larger then a 'B' cup size."

Dr. Jane Kelso was a grey haired matron in her sixties. She was excited at the prospect of experimenting on me as hitherto she had only used the procedure on females, but saw no reason why it shouldn't be equally successful for a male. The only problem was finding sufficient fat. Being as slim as I was I didn't carry much spare fat so it was quite difficult extracting enough, but eventually she harvested sufficient for her purposes.

The clear liquid, which contained the stem cells, was injected into the soft flesh below each of my nipples, and that was it. I was instructed to keep a close watch for any signs of infection but found no evidence of any. Over the next few weeks, to my utter delight, I watched my breasts begin to develop. Progress was slow to begin with but as the growth accelerated my breasts took on the unmistakable shape of a young girls budding maturity.

After three months I received the second treatment and this followed the same course. Finally the growth slowed and stopped and I was the proud possessor of a firm, womanly 36B bust. Dr. Kelso was extremely pleased with the results and spent a long time measuring and photographing me. She proposed to publish her results in the medical journals and needed all the data she could get. I was a little alarmed at first but she assured me my anonymity would be protected.

I was thrilled with the results too and spent many hours admiring and fondling them. I bought masses of bras in all styles and colours, and would change them several times a day simply for the pleasure of feeling my own living breasts encased and supported by delicate lace and silk.

Wanda was entranced with my budding assets and watched closely as they advanced from small swellings to full grown breasts. Her own bust was the result of oral hormones and creams and had taken two years to attain the size they now were. She confessed that she envied me and wished that she could receive the same treatment. I promised to speak to Nick about it.

Nick was not so enamoured with them. He was happy for me of course, but said he preferred boys with flat chests. However, it didn't stop our love making from being any the less passionate. He would fuck me in the morning when he woke, he fucked me in the evening when he returned and again before we slept, and I couldn't get enough. I loved to feel his big manly weapon stroking into me. He preferred to take me on my back so that he could watch my facial expressions and kiss me whilst we shagged, but I would often impale myself on him and ride his rigid pole.

For his part he loved to suck my cock, (and anyone else's for all I knew) and particularly liked me to fuck his mouth. He would lie flat and I would mount his face lying on his head and supporting myself on my elbows. Then with his lips wrapped tightly around my penis I'd fuck his orifice till I'd shoot directly into his throat. Alternatively he liked to sit on the floor with his back supported against an armchair and I would stand astride him, lift my skirt then holding his head between my hands I'd fuck his mouth as I stood over him. He never once allowed me to enter him anally insisting that, in this relationship he was the top and I was very definitely the bottom, an arrangement I had no problem with.

Nick was enormously turned on by the secret knowledge that underneath the pretty skirts and dresses I wore was an active and energetic male genitalia. Whenever we went out together he'd bring a digital camera and would photograph me provided it was safe to do so, holding up my skirts and exhibiting my cock and balls. The more public the place the greater was his excitement. He took me to art galleries, museums, parks, fun fairs, anywhere where there were crowds of people. He'd then position me in such a way as to have as many people in the background as possible; then on a signal from him I'd open my coat or raise my skirt and flash my maleness. If, under such circumstances, I could get an erection then so much the better and the more he loved it. I was always terrified we'd be caught and publicly humiliated, but the risk simply added to Nick's excitement. After such a session he would be tremendously randy and could hardly wait to get home where he practically raped me almost before the door had closed.

 

Chapter Fourteen

Two years after moving in with Nick and becoming his lover, he asked me to marry him. He popped the question on a beautiful summer's afternoon as we were sitting together on a bench overlooking the Thames at Henley.

"You mean enter into a civil partnership?" I asked.

"Yes we could do that too, but what I'm thinking of is a white wedding in a church."

"But we can't do that." I protested.

"Why not?"

"Because as you well know, despite appearances I am still a man and the church frowns on such marriages."

"That's the beauty of it, you are such a convincing woman that no one will know. Except for a few close friends that is. I know it would have no legal standing but I would dearly love to marry you. To stand before the alter as a normal man and woman would do and for you to become my wife."

"Well if it can be arranged without too many questions being asked," I said dubiously, "then yes, I gladly accept your proposal of marriage."

"Oh that's wonderful. Thank you my darling, you've just made me the happiest man in the world. Leave it all to me."

From his jacket pocket he produced a small box. Opening it he withdrew the largest diamond I had ever seen. A flawless, brilliant cut solitaire stone on a gold band. He took my left hand and slipped it onto the third finger and said. "Now we are officially engaged."

When I told Wanda of Nick's plan she was thrilled to bits and immediately took on the task of buying dresses and outfits, excitingly telling me to leave everything to her. She also insisted on being my bridesmaid, which I was happy for her to be as I'd planned to ask her anyway.

We visited dozens of bridal-wear shops till we eventually settling on an exclusive bespoke bridal emporium in Hatton Gardens. It took many hours of discussion and fittings before we were satisfied that everything was perfect. The sumptuous wedding gown I finally purchasing was a classical style, strapless gown with an A-line skirt. It was made from pure white silk and had a raunched fitted corset bodice that incorporated a platform bra that produced an exciting cleavage and exposed the upper slopes of my breasts. The embroidered bodice was elaborately adorned with seed pearls and diamante. The skirt was under laid with many metres of taffeta, and had a chapel length train. My waist-length veil was held in place on my head by a silver tiara inlaid with pearls.

Wanda's gown, though less elaborate, was equally gorgeous. Made in soft pink satin it was also strapless with a simple floor length pencil skirt that featured a bustle of taffeta roses. The princess line bodice was embroidered with tiny flowers and was fastened at the back with tiny fabric covered buttons.

As well as the wedding gowns many other accessories were also required. These included lingerie in the form of panties, garter belts and white stockings; white satin shoes with a modest 2-inch heel for me and pink sling-back sandals for Wanda. It was also necessary to purchase 'going away' outfits. The cost of all this ran into thousands of pounds but Nick was happy to pay.

Of the many properties Nick owned the most picturesque and my favourite, was the 2000-acre estate with its 16^th century manor house that nestled in a valley near Bourton-on-the-Water in Gloucestershire. Over the years the house had been added to and extended till now it was a sprawling ten-bedroom mansion. One of the earliest additions was a private chapel that was still used each Sunday by the estate workers, and it was here that Nick planned to hold the ceremony.

The reverend Reginald Plumpton was an old family friend of Nick's who had retired from the clergy and was now living out his old age in a cottage on the estate. He agreed to conduct the ceremony provided the incumbent rector would allow the use of the church. Happily this was not a problem as the church was rarely used other than for Sunday services.

A date was set for a Saturday in early autumn at two o'clock in the afternoon and the invitations sent out. Only a few close friends were invited, as Nick was eager to keep it a strictly private occasion.

He asked Roderick Whetherby to be his best man. An old friend and ex lover of Nick's, whom I'd met a few times, and found to be a source of great wit and humour. His current partner, on the other hand was a detestable man to whom I took an instant dislike. An aging, balding fat man with bad teeth, who was extremely rude and whose name I did not discover, nor did I want to.

Not having a father of my own, and therefore no one to give me away, I asked George if he would do me that honour and he said he'd be proud to. He'd viewed my transformation from a slightly effeminate male to a mincing cross dressing sissy with benign fatherly tolerance. He neither approved nor disapproved of my behaviour but simply accepted me for what I was. Mable, his wife, a grey mouse of a woman, was equally thrilled that George would be my stand-in father. Unless George had told her otherwise, and I'm not sure he had, she believed me to be a genuine girl. On the few occasions I'd met her she had always treated me as a woman and an equal, gossiping away about the things that preoccupied her thoughts: the price of food, special offers, the latest fashions and the goings-on of soap stars.

Wanda's current boyfriend, was a handsome South American minor league soccer star, who styled himself by the single appellation of Ripon. Wanda confided to me that he didn't know her true gender, a claim I found difficult to believe.

Jill and Jenny were invited of course along with four of their friends who were also clearly members of the sisterhood. I had naturally kept in touch with them and visited the office regularly. They had replaced me with a dizzy blond girl who had no idea I was anything other than what I appeared; i.e. an extremely pretty Asian girl. They'd followed my transition with great interest watching each stage of my development and forever giving me advice. George was always delighted to see me whenever I called in and would insisted on taking me for lunch, where he'd gaze fondly at me. In fact, I sometimes thought he secretly fancied me.

Barbara Kempton and her husband Allan were asked. She had become a good friend of mine and had been a tremendous help when I'd begun dressing more femininely. It was she who first showed me how to pluck my eyebrows and paint my nails and who gave me the confidence to pursue my cross-dressing.

Unfortunately, when I finally managed to track Mummy down to an address in Edinburgh, it was to be told that she had left the country two months earlier and that no forwarding address had been left. I was naturally very disappointed that she would be absent on my big day, but also a little relieved that I wouldn't have to explain why I was the bride and not the groom.

The day before the wedding Nick and I travelled down to Hickstead Manor and were met my Mrs Sandown, the live-in housekeeper, who showed us to the master bedroom suite in a state of great excitement. Mrs Sandown was a fearsome harridan who ran the household with the robust efficiency of an army sergeant major. Cowering in her shadow and struggling with our bags was Eric her husband. The antithesis of his wife, he was a small timid man who was the head gardener but who also doubled up as a porter and any other job she dictated he do.

Despite our efforts to keep the event quiet it seemed the whole estate had heard about it and planned to be there. After all, it was not every day the Master got married, they reasoned, so it was their duty to attend.

Wanda and her boyfriend arrived later in the day and she immediately hustled me off to my room where we checked our dresses and accessories, then spent the evening going over the arrangements. Barbara was to arrive early the next morning to do my hair and nails.

The big day finally dawned. Wanda and I were up early had eaten a light breakfast, showered and washed our hair before Barbara arrived. It took her the entire morning before she was satisfied that both Wanda and I were coiffed and painted to the standard she wanted.

Around lunchtime the rest of the guests started to arrive having driven down from London. George looked very self-conscious and uncomfortable in his morning suit and grey topper but was as polite, charming and considerate as ever. All the guests had made an extra effort to look their best, the ladies buying new outfits and hats, and the men wearing long-tailed coats. Even Jill and Jenny and the other 'sisters' had turned up wearing pretty frocks and hats.

It was almost time to leave for the church before I was finally ready. Dear old George was becoming impatient and was pacing nervously in the great hall as he awaited the bride and his surrogate daughter. I took a last critical look at myself before I left my room and decided I liked what I saw, a lovely young woman without any trace of masculinity.

"Pauline, you look absolutely beautiful." George said as I glided down the grand staircase. A huge smile lit up his face and his chest swelled with pride. "Positively radiant."

My gown and veil were perfect. My make-up was immaculate and the skin of my bare shoulders and quivering bosom glowed. I clutched a small bouquet in my right hand and took George's arm with my left. We walked the hundred metres or so from the house along the stone flagged pathway to the church. The path was lined with estate workers and local people who applauded us as we passed.

George and I waited outside the church for a few moments to gather ourselves together. Wanda was waiting for us looking fabulous and also clutching a bouquet. After arranging my train so that it was spread out correctly, she walked behind me as we entered through the main doorway. The wheezy strains of an ancient pipe organ playing Mendelssohn's wedding march floated toward us.

As we slowly walked down the aisle I glanced sideways from under my veil at all my friends. Nick was waiting at the altar rail and took my hand as I arrived beside him.

The Reverend Plumpton was in his nineties and required a stick to support himself. He was also virtually blind, having suffered from macular degeneration for the past decade, a condition that had gradually robbed him of his sight. His memory was unaffected, however, as his recall and recitation of the prayers and readings were word perfect, albeit delivered in a weak, quavering voice.

He led Nick and I through the ritual for the solemnization of matrimony. We made our vows to each other, and then repeated the promises following the curates lead. He blessed the rings, then asked us each to place one on the others finger. He then pronounced us man and wife and told Nick, "You may kiss your bride."

Turning to me he carefully raised my veil onto the top of my head then lent forward and touched his lips to mine. The kiss was so full of tenderness and love that I almost cried. I wanted this moment to last forever.

As we separated, Nick whispered into my ear, "I love you so much, Pauline. Thank you for agreeing to be my wife."

It was the most blissful day of my life and I silently swore that I would do everything in my power to make this man as happy as I now felt. I would devote my life to being the perfect wife and to ensuring he would be as contented and satisfied as I was.

The Reverend Plumpton peered myopically at us wondering why we were starting into each other's eyes and whispering. He would never know that beneath the beautiful skirt and the layers of taffeta of my wedding gown my rigid penis was struggling to escape from my dainty lace panties.

Yes. Nick had indeed made me his special lady.

The end.

If you enjoyed this story I would be very pleased to hear from you. I can be contacted directly at belle.gordon@excite.com or you can post a comment on the web site.

  

  

  

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