The Rise Of The Pheonix

by Paula Mortenson

  

CHAPTER ONE

  

Maggie peered into the mirror putting the finishing touches to her make up. She felt good. The weight she had recently lost accentuated her already good figure, emphasising her comparative height and her interesting cleavage. She put away her lip gloss in her leather shoulder bag and stood to examine herself in the full length mirror in the tiny bedroom. The black leather skirt nicely touched at her knees, matching her hair attractively styled in an up to date version of the Cathy McGowan cut of the Sixties. It was a style that suited a lady of, well, more mature years but one who liked to dress fashionably without regard to the more outlandish current styles. She did, by any standards, look rather younger than her 48 years and managed to combine her maturity with a youthful exuberance. She considered the red silk blouse she had agonised over as she had shopped that afternoon. It folded interestingly across her, hinting at exotica just hidden from view but there was no mistaking her 40B attributes. She straightened her skirt, flicked the crossover blouse a trifle lower at the front and then ran her hands down the front of the shiny leather, feeling suspenders and the line of her French knickers hidden away, not to be seen again that evening. Well, unless..... She smiled enigmatically to herself. The sounds of the party downstairs wafted upwards and she determined to herself that now she was free this evening was one to be enjoyed.

With one final check to ensure her stockings were tightly suspendered she slipped the gold chain of her bag over her shoulder and walked carefully to the door. Normally she never wore heels of more than two inches but her other purchase that afternoon had been a pair of 4 inch strapped heels. Her legs, swathed in dark patterned nylon, responded to the heels by appearing shapelier than usual. Now she felt more confident in them having taken every opportunity that afternoon to wear them. She had donned them for her trip to the bathroom and had strutted around the tiny bedroom enjoying the caress of her silk underwear before dressing. The hotel corridor was deeply carpeted so she made no sound as she strolled towards the stairs and the party. The group to which she belonged had taken all the rooms for the weekend so she was confident she would meet only friends that evening.

Maggie paused at the top of the landing, placed a beautifully manicured hand on the banister, took a deep breath promising herself that the evening was for enjoyment and swept on downwards displaying a confidence she did not feel inside. As she progressed around the grand curved staircase she envisaged what an entrance could be made in a ball gown with layers of petticoats and promised herself that next year....well, this year was to be enjoyed first.

Faces glanced up at the descending figure and smiled welcomes. Maggie dared to glance around and immediately spotted a male waving to her. He was taller and younger than she and her heart leaped with joy that he was waiting for her. All her careful preparation had been worthwhile. The objection of her affection elbowed his way through the throng standing at the foot of the stairs.

"Hi, Maggie. My goodness you look good enough to eat. "Michael smiled teasingly at her and handed her a glass of champagne. She wondered whether this was an invitation, the beginning of something she had never dared to hope for. He had been watching and waiting for her. As she sipped at her drink, hardly daring to speak, he slipped his arm through hers, proprietarily, just a little higher than was absolutely necessary, sending a thrill through her entire body. She decided that this evening was going to be good, very, very good. At that moment dinner was announced and in the ensuing melee Michael held her tightly, to lead her through to a discreetly lit corner table, just for two. As they arrived, he sprang to help her into her seat. "A real gentleman." she thought.

The meal passed for both of them in an instant, so engrossed were they in each other's company. They talked of everything and nothing and the rest of the world faded away as they laughed and flirted with increasing meaningfulness together.

As they drank their coffee a new mood came over them. Less a mood, more an atmosphere charged with basic instinct. Michael leaned forwards, taking Maggie's hand in his. As she squeezed the proffered hand she sensed the other stroking her knee. As she smiled her welcome to the intimacy, which sent shivers of anticipation through her whole being, she became aware of the secret hand moving onwards beyond her stocking tops. A flush raced over her body and frightened that he might retreat from the intimacy she longed for she closed her thighs to trap his secret searching before leaning forwards to brush her lips against his, in an unmistakable invitation. Time stood still as their lips passed the electricity of their desire back and forth. In a moment they were disentangled and he swept her to her feet to thrust his lips urgently against hers. Within moments his tongue was probing and prising into her increasing eagerness. Fellow diners watched in fascination as the entwined figures were lost to the world. Gently Maggie pulled away and whispered the formality of an invitation. He nodded and curled his arm around her waist to guide her towards the stairway and bliss.

They had reached the first landing on what had seemed to both of them an endless journey before Maggie realised she had left her bag beneath their table. Urgently she made her apologies and ran back to the dining room. Half way down the flight of stairs a heel caught and she tumbled forwards. She seemed to fall for ever but though she had not hit the floor the all engulfing pain began. Her screaming agony racked her whole being.......

"Mr James. Mr James. Ian? There's been an accident. Can you hear me?"

A strange female voice intruded into the intense and private pain. Oh no, where has Michael gone?

"Mr James, you've been involved in an accident and you're badly injured. I'm afraid there's no Michael here."

The forlorn old man sobbed to himself, strangely not from his physical agonies but from the lifelong dream being snatched away, yet again. Michael seemed so elusive.

 

CHAPTER TWO

 

In the following days the old man hovered in no man's land between life and death, barely surviving the head injuries. Three times he was rushed to the operating theatre and three times his children and grandchildren waited for the inevitable. But again and again the inner strength of the frail and battered body overcame the impossible. The doctors made it clear that as each crisis abated there were more to come and even with a miracle there was a long haul to regain normality.

As the waiting relatives watched in shifts they had no idea of the war raging within Ian's mind as in his dreams he relived Maggie's fateful meeting with Michael. It was as though a record was stuck, replaying the same tune, time and time again. The dream gave the comatose figure the will to live on through the pain. It was his hope for the future when nothing else was left. It was the vision of the inner Maggie, determined to survive, after so many years of denial of her true identity. There was to be no letting go. Understand, the pain, the intense pains of all the years of none expression were there but as cold can keep sleep at bay so that dogged longing kept the frail body alive.

The crises ebbed and flowed but 48 hours after the third operation the doctors confirmed there was hope. All that remained now was for the coma to break. The sad little figure lay in intensive care, a seemingly endless barrage of pipes and tubes protruding from his body. Weeks had passed since the first of his life saving operations. So serious was his condition that a nurse always hovered about him. On a quiet evening a nurse sat beside the figure and reached to stroke his face. Suddenly she withdrew it with a puzzled look in her eyes. She knew that the patient had been there for many days and she was certain he had never been shaved during his stay, it was so unimportant and yet his cheeks were as smooth as a baby's bottom, or should that be a woman's cheek? The nurse, who had seen many strange things in her professional life, returned her hand to stroke the smoothness of his cheek and wondered. Within the strange dream world of the injured figure, Maggie was once again revelling in the tender and urgent probing of Michael's tongue. Briefly, a look of feminine ecstasy flashed across the unconscious face, puzzling the watching nurse.

"What's your name, dear? What's your full name, my darling?" she whispered to the lifeless body.

Whether it was Maggie or Ian who spoke will never be known but the answer was a shock.

"Maggie. Margaret Rose, my darling." rasped forth.

Perhaps it was the acknowledgement of the outside world that brought consciousness but it was a sobbing Ian who awoke. The nurse's experience saved Ian from unwelcome questions as she decided to wait for a few minutes before calling the doctors.

For Ian the days passed slowly and painfully. The drugs to control his pain worked well but left him dozy and inattentive. He merely existed but gradually Maggie's dream receded leaving him to think for himself.

Days and nights meant little. He woke or slept according to some mysterious internal clock separating him further from the outside world. His visitors, who waited patiently at his bedside, rarely saw his eyes open. Jemma, his daughter was the first of his family to speak with him and then only a pale smile and a nod came from her father. Despite the continuing critically of his condition he was aware of a tension among his visitors. There was no need for him to be fully awake to sense that. The forced brightness of his daughter's prattling told him bad news was being withheld.

The recollection of the accident had never left him. Unlike many accident victims he had not been spared the full horrors of the crash by amnesia. He could still feel the shock of the impact, still hear the screams of pain, mercifully short, from his wife and still recall his body gradually blocking out the pain of his own injuries as shock had set in. He remembered the speed with which the firemen had worked with the medics to cut him from the car, contrasting with their disregard for his wife. No one had to tell him they attended to the living first.

He thought of his wife. She had been beautiful in her younger days and a striking woman as she had matured. Her determination had been a rock on which their marriage had been built it had soured to obduracy in the latter years. A total refusal to recognise or acknowledge anything she found distasteful had made life very difficult between them in the past few years. Not that he had wanted to disregard her sensibilities, no, he had so desperately wanted to be fair to her but she had refused to speak about his needs. Perhaps he should have been firmer or even brutally honest but his nature was to be gentle and to understand the other point of view. It was a weakness. How had he ever managed to succeed in business? Somehow in his office he had been different. There were many who saw him as being strong, never recognising his truly gentle nature. He had always covered his weakness only Ruth had seen that side of him. His business partners had seen a very capable man who always looked at problems from an unusual angle. Little did anyone realise that difference was his female inner core.

He had recognised from his childhood that he was different. It was many years before he understood the reason for his feelings. In the early days when he was in his teens the need to dress had come and gone according to mysterious urges and opportunity. Never involving anyone else in his fantasies he lived his life constantly bemused by the strange desires so much in conflict with his middle class upbringing.

As he lay dozing, it struck him that even in illness he was playing a role, protecting his name and reputation. Despite the clear desires of Maggie's dreams he could not admit that his youthful and confused sex drive had led him away from the outwardly faithful "normal" masculine path. He had taken the female part in two brief relationships. Anonymously and with men he had never met before or since. One had been so casual that it could not have lasted for more than a few minutes, though his pleasure had been so intense it might have lasted two minutes, two hours or even two days for all he was aware of all that had happened. He forced himself to remember. It was not long after their engagement, he had probably been hardly out of his teens. That different feeling had produced feelings not compatible with his expected respectability and certainly not in line with his prospective marital status.

Some evenings when he should have been studying he popped out for a drink. His parents had never enquired too deeply. There had been a jumble sale, he recalled and he had stolen ladies` underwear that had been irresistible. It had been exciting sorting through the lacy items. He secreted a pair of knickers while no one was watching. Even all these years later he could still see them in his mind. Now his tastes were more practical but even so the excitement of his youth came back strongly. It had been the sixties, the time of hipsters and flares, mini skirts and dolly birds. What a time it had been. These knickers had been from an earlier era. Pink nylon edged in matching lace. The terrible fascination had hinted of a female inner self but the enthusiasm of youth had homed in on the basest needs and sexual satisfaction was all he understood.

The knickers fascinated him, becoming the centre of his whole existence. He slept with them beneath his pyjamas and went out for a drink with them clinging seductively to him. Without understanding he allied himself with the dolly birds that convention and peer pressure dictated he should leer at and desire secretly longing to be the subject of attention, as they were. The pressure built inside him, confusing and drawing him inexorably towards a release he desperately needed.

He dared himself to visit a public toilet that had a certain reputation. Shivering in fear and anticipation he entered a cubicle and waited for what seemed an age. He heard no one and his courage failing him he quietly slipped the catch on the door ready to leave, unfulfilled. The face of the smiling male standing at the door of the adjacent cubicle had long since been erased from his memory but eyebrows were raised in enquiring invitation and Ian, in a trance, had stepped forward. What was to happen he did not know, all he knew was he longed to be loved in a manner he could not comprehend.

The lover busied himself, locking the door and seating himself. His command of the situation was absolute, Ian a mere silent puppet. Now the old man recognised he had been treated entirely as the passive partner, lead through a beautiful experience by an accomplished exponent.

The lover tenderly unbuttoned Ian's shirt, slipping a hand inside to search out and to caress first one and then the other nipple. As Ian gasped at the shock of ecstasy flowing through his body, the other hand flicked open the top of his hipsters, slowly drawing the zip downwards and significantly nudging the rapidly growing hardness. The cool of the evening caressed the dazed figure's legs as they were uncovered and the lover admired the smoothness of his skin. The only words the manipulator spoke in the whole meeting were uttered as the pretty underwear was uncovered. "Fem? Eh?"

The shock of the initial contact and the pleasures coursing through his body had left Ian both speechless and immobilised, unable to move only able to helplessly await his fate. His passiveness invited a tongue to flick upwards towards his chest and replace the manipulating fingers which turned their attention elsewhere. Even now, forty years later, the memory of that tongue sent a pulse of pleasure though Ian's body. Turning from one nipple to the other the tongue sent shock waves that rebounded around Ian's body, increasing in intensity as those on their way to his toes met those on their way back. The lover increased his efforts, loosening the final shirt button before moving his head down Ian's torso with curious crab like movements. The tongue rasped, the lips sucked and even the eyelashes and eyebrows excited everything they touched. A crescendo of ecstasy built within Ian. His belly button was alight from the tongue. His fair skin sizzled to new and welcome sensations.

His whole attention concentrated on the head snaking back and forth across his body when suddenly fingers stretched the lacy knickers and searched so delicately into his secret places. His back arched to welcome the invasion. Now he seemed to be at the mercy of three or four different lovers as they continued their assault without a pause, toying with him to new levels of rapture. He yearned to give himself fully in a way he knew was impossible but as every nerve ending crackled he was content to give whatever was demanded.

Fingers twisted and turned within his knickers stretching and massaging deep within him, imitating the service his inner unrecognised femininity longed to give as the knickers were gently drawn aside and the rasping tongue grasped at his hardness. Within moments an all enveloping mouth consumed him and he was unable to contain the supercharged release that overcame him. Never in the intervening years had he experienced such a feeling. He had floated on the ecstasy, barely containing the internal scream that he could still hear. It was only later he realised he had bitten his lip in the dual act of keeping silent and cherishing the experience.

For an uncertain time they were frozen in time, savouring the moment, fantasising that it could last to eternity but finally the lover gently drew the knickers back into place, buttoned Ian's shirt and lifted his hipsters back into place. Without a word he leaned forwards, kissed his cheek and slipped away anonymously into the darkness of the evening. Time stood still as Ian stayed unable to move or think, relishing an afterglow capable of stripping paint off doors.

Now Ian understood the experience was not a true reflection of the inner femininity that he had hidden from the outside world but it had been an important part of his life. No, he was not gay though in a moment of anger and hurt his wife had accused him of being one. But what was he? Or should that be, what was she? He decided that after the trials and tribulations of both his secret and public life he had sorted that question out. In reality the answer was a rephrasing of that statement. SHE had sorted out what She was! All he/she longed for now was to be left alone and to live the life she had been denied all those years. The protective shell of masculinity developed to survive in a male body was no longer needed following his wife's death and his final masculine obligations had been fulfilled.

He lay in his hospital bed resolving to do the things he should have done years before. Making plans there were now not dreams but plans for immediate action. He sensed his feminine core had seen him through the trauma of his accident and now his obligation to Maggie was greater than the frustrating obligations to his wife and children.

  

CHAPTER THREE

 

Time can play tricks on everyone but in hospital time has no meaning, no reference point. It is purely measured by the visit of a specialist, the next meal and other seemingly trivialities. In intensive care the remoteness from the world is even greater. The old man had lost all sense of time. He had no idea of how long he had been there nor did he really care. He had been aware of his daughter. He had come to recognise Rose, a nurse, as a distinct person but all else was hazy and only barely discerned. The only reality of his life over the past weeks had been Maggie, refusing to give in when all seemed lost. Now Maggie was the only reality of his life, ignored and abused in the past but the only future.

He drifted in the half world between sleep and waking, not quite dreaming not quite thinking. His youth when his gender confusion had lead him to take terrible risks and the confusion had tortured his whole life until he had met Maggie. It was strange to realise Maggie had saved him then when he had met her face to face. To both their regrets Maggie had not been born until they were both in their forties but better to born late than never live at all.

An inner voice had persuaded Ian to buy a magazine just before the family was going away for a week, leaving him on his own. The final pages had proved so interesting to Maggie. Not the sex but the opportunity to express herself. A phone call to one of the advertisers. No appointments necessary and then the visit. A whole day away from male clothes. What an experience? What a joy? The woman within had blossomed but not yet appeared, for he still regarded himself as a man in drag. There was something not right, what the inner voice could not understand but all those years of masculinity had left their mark.

Ian had not counted on the sheer ingenuity of the woman within who had waited frustrated all those years. His inherent good manners dictated he wrote a thank you to the ladies at the shop and Maggie made sure he had to call to express his thanks on the telephone. She knew now the die was cast her chance had at long last come. Now she was certain they would go again. The woman within was touched by his ultimate expression of love. He deceived his wife for her!! Though neither knew it, at the time, that day was when their destinies were decided. There were still many years of disappointment, pain and frustration to come but that one day introduced Ian to Maggie and then there was no going back. In reality Maggie was as old as Ian, in deed in some ways she was older. Hadn't their mother decided on Margaret Rose as the name for her child and then had to settle for Ian?

The day of the second visit had been incredible. It had surprised even the ladies at the shop. Maggie had resolved she wanted to dress according to her age, well a year or two younger and see herself as she would be on an ordinary day. Ian, driven by Maggie, tried on this skirt that blouse, jumpers, almost everything in the wardrobes. He didn't understand what was fuelling the desperation but recognised its importance. Finally an outfit was settled upon with lower heels, tights rather than stockings but all coordinated. A wig was chosen but there was a shake of the head. It wasn't right. Another wig followed and then a succession all rejected. The ladies were on the verge of despair, as was Maggie.

"Just try this one on. I know you don't want a shorter one but you'll never know unless you do."

With the effort of slipping the tight headband over his forehead Ian had lowered his eyes but as he glanced up he had disappeared for ever. For face facing him, in the mirror, was his other self, Margaret Rose James.

There was a shocked silence as the helping ladies saw something that had not been there moments before. One moment Ian, the next Maggie. Ian, in a flash of insight, saw what he should have known all along. The feelings of being "different" all his life, his half ashamed dabbling with men, his dissatisfaction with himself, the feelings there was something more to his being than he could explain were all explained in that instant. The old man knew now nothing had been solved, the moment had been important but many difficulties had lain in their path.

The old man groaned partly in physical pain but partly from the bitter joy and sorrow the memory had brought.

"Ian? Ian? Are you OK?"

The old man squinted through his half closed eyelids at the bending figure of Rose. Now he was back to the harsh reality of his painful existence. He squeezed his eyes closed.

"Ian? Can you hear me?"

No response came from the frail body.

"Ian." repeated the voice, now tinged with a combination of irritation and some concern. "Ian." There was a pause while Rose made up her mind.

"Maggie. Margaret Rose, will you kindly answer me."

The words produced an immediate reaction. His eyes jerked open, showing shock and trepidation.

"That's better, dear. Now whoever you might be, I'm here to help you get well. I'll do whatever is necessary so don't forget, when I speak to you, you'll reply. Are you going to speak to me?"

During the previous weeks the old man had only nodded, smiled and uttered the odd grunt of approval or disapproval, according to need. Now he had to speak but he puzzled over how she knew his name. The fear of exposure was real. Had he given all his inner most secrets away, in his coma?

"Your secret is safe with me, Maggie. No one else knows. You have to tell me about Michael. He sounds as if he's very special. It's time for you to have something to eat. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

The old man's eyes searched her face, looking for the sneer of judgement but none was there. He mumbled, not used to speaking and the wounds to his head made movement painful.

"What did you say, dear?"

"How did you know?"

"I'll tell you in good time when no one else is about but you'll take a drop of soup for me, won't you?"

Ian nodded still staring at the friendly face.

From that day his body began to heal. Rose was one of a team of nurses who had tended him but within days he was moved from intensive care to a side ward. Now he was not critically ill but not strong enough for a more public ward. Frustratingly he lost track of Rose in the move before he could find out how much she knew.

The hospital machinery now put him through a series of ordeals designed to get him in shape to cope with one more, final, life saving operation. It was though he was on a treadmill. He had no control and seemingly no personal contact with the hospital staff. They came and went to perform their duties on an everlasting conveyor belt. His family came, too. At first their attitude was uncertain, followed by a tearful relief they did not have to break the dreadful news, for he already knew. The funeral had been held while he had still been critically ill and his children were grateful for their father's practicality. Gerry, Ian's blustering son in law, came too with suggestions for taking the old mans assets under his control but instead a trusted family friend was charged with the task of selling everything up with the exception of one locked trunk to be placed in safekeeping.

The final operation came and went. Now a complete recovery was possible.

  

CHAPTER FOUR

 

The days following the final operation necessitated a short stay in intensive care but Ian had no opportunity to make contact with Rose. Immediately after he had been moved to yet another side ward his daughter, Jemma visited him.

Jemma was his eldest child. Like many oldest children she had a tendency to be bossy and occasionally forgot herself enough to treat her father as if he were one of her own children. They discussed what the old man was to do on leaving hospital. In reality Jemma was attempting to persuade her father to do what she thought was right, very much in the manner of her mother. The likeness reduced the old man to tears. Tears of sorrow and regret for in the latter years Maggie had been a sore subject between them despite Ian's dogged devotion to his wife.

The combination of his wife's illness and Ian's faithfulness to Maggie had meant there had been little physical love but mostly both Ian and Maggie had not strayed. As Jemma prattled on Ian reflected that his/ her situation was a complete contradiction but both sides of his personality had entered into a contract on marriage and both Maggie and Ian were old fashioned enough to believe that promises should be honoured. He had desperately wanted to free himself for Maggie but he had determined if he was to leave he must leave his family secure. That determination had caused him a nervous breakdown once in his late thirties. He hadn't met or recognised his inner partner at that time and the distressing hunger for an unknown objective, combined with immense stress at work had driven him to the very edge. In deed he had been driven over the edge for in his own very organised way he had attempted to take his own life.

The will to live had been stronger than he realised and his natural secrecy had managed to cover everything as a fictional liver complaint. He had never discussed his strange longings even with the psychiatrist who had treated him. It had been odd, he had never pushed for too many of the reasons for Ian's despair and Ian had never volunteered his inner thoughts. The recovery had been complete and Ian attributed his continued good health to listening to the sensible feminine intuition that he had fought against, to his cost.

The old man, deep in thought suddenly realised his daughter was asking a question, probably for the second or third time.

"Dad. You are coming to live with us, aren't you?"

The old man spoke carefully, "My Dear, I'll certainly stay with you to begin with but I'm too young for a granny flat or whatever. Anyway, your family are growing up and they won't want an old man around all the time."

Ian had decided now was his chance for freedom. He didn't want his daughter interfering and he had never been entirely at ease with his son in law. He knew that feeling was mutual.

"After a time, I expect I'll get a flat, somewhere. I had been looking after your mother for the past few years so there will be no problem just for me."

An image crossed his mind. A figure, stood ironing in a pretty kitchen. The figure is dressed in jeans and a long, loose fitting, T shirt. She is bared footed and is working her way through a variety of clothes which she takes from a washing basket. There is a pile of completed ironing on the table beside her. Suddenly the scene changes to the same figure reclining in a bath. Only her head can be seen, resting on a folded flannel, everything else is concealed by deliciously perfumed bubbles. Ian drew the perfume into his nostrils and recognised the aroma, Passion. What memories that aroma recalled. What promises it made.

"Father. Father, are you listening to me?"

"I'm sorry, dear, I was thinking of something else. Look, can we talk about this some other time? I've got a physiotherapy session in a minute or two." blustered the old man, not having a clue what his daughter had been speaking about.

"But Dad. Are you coming to stay with us over Christmas? The doctors have said you can come out for three days, if you feel up to it. Otherwise you'll be more or less on your own in the ward. We can get a nurse in and we've stacks of room."

The old man was reluctant to give up his freedom and was a little scared to set the pattern of staying with his daughter so he made a feeble excuse. Fortunately, his daughter had only made the offer out of duty and departed feeling she had done right by her father.

A nurse appeared to wheelchair Ian to his physiotherapy session which he regarded as authorised torture as the general idea seemed to be to force him to undertake exercises a man thirty years his junior would have struggled with. The nurse handed over her charge at the door of the gym.

"Now then, Maggie, how are you?"

Fortunately, the words had been whispered in his ear, while he was sat in the chair otherwise he might have had an unfortunate accident. Twisting round he peered up to see Rose, his old nurse, smiling down wickedly at him.

"What on earth are you doing here?"

"I've changed duties. I trained originally as a physiotherapist and they're short, it's all the cuts and I fancied a change. So here I am. You're all mine, now." There was a wicked smile, spreading across her face.

Ian was confused and not a little concerned that his secrets were to become public knowledge.

"Now, do you want to work on your hips and thighs or perhaps your waist? I Physio is tough, it has to be but you might as well get some benefit out of the discomfort. No gain without pain, that's the name of the game."

"Can we talk before we get started?"

"You want to know how much I heard, don't you? Well, I know you've been having electrolysis. No man I've met before has a face as smooth as yours and when you look closely you can see the tiny scars and they're recent. You were talking and moaning after the accident. Mostly you just mumbled but once or twice you were excited about this fantastic feller, called Michael. Three or four times one night you went over the same conversation, with him. No one else heard it. We don't take a lot of notice patients are always coming out with the most amazing things. But a few years ago, before my husband died and we were short of money I took a part time job at a special clinic. For transsexuals. You do know what they are, don't you?"

Rising panic showed on Ian's face as he listened intently and he barely moved his head to indicate Rose should continue.

"Your secret is safe with me. The words about Michael, the electrolysis and me working at the clinic told me but when and if you want to talk, we've plenty of time over the coming weeks."

Ian remained silent that day in the gym but as he was wheeled away he whispered, "I really would like to get my tummy muscles flatter and firmer. "

At that, they both laughed and it was agreed the next day's exercises would include one or two that weren't strictly necessary. Over the following days Ian gradually opened up about his hopes and fears as they worked to get his body to fitness. He admitted the secret reason for some of the exercises did help his enthusiasm and he complained less about the discomfort. Rose's outrageous whispered comments to the emerging Maggie on the physical attributes of the other occupants of the gym often reduced both of them to fits of giggles. Her wicked sense of humour and cheery disposition did wonders for both Maggie and Ian's mood. Maggie loved her scandal and gossip and the nurse's open acceptance of Maggie meant they soon became firm friends.

Ian's family all lived far from the hospital and their frequent visits bore testament to their affection and regard for the old man. On Christmas Eve the whole family came to exchange visits, cheered by his very apparent improvement in health. Since they would not be back until the New Year, Rose had helped Ian to acquire presents for all his relatives. It was only as Jemma waved a tearful farewell the old man realised he had bought nothing for Rose. He prevailed on Jemma to let him have a small, but very expensive bottle of perfume she had bought that afternoon.

One final visitor came, Ian's trusted friend, Brian who had custody of the locked trunk. He, as a solicitor, had brought papers for Ian to sign to complete the sale of his house and the like. As he left he wished Ian the compliments of the season, adding, "Incidentally I dropped your trunk off as instructed. I was glad to get it out of the office. What on earth have you got in it? It was so damn heavy Rose had to give me a hand to get it up to her flat. "

Before Ian could utter a word Brian had gone, leaving the old man in stunned silence. As he wondered on his friend's comment Rose appeared carrying a plastic bag and regarded the silent figure.

"Cat got your tongue? Here, you'd better put some clothes on, it's chilly outside. Now don't argue, it's my Christmas present to you for being such a good patient and you'd better pop into the loo to dress. It'll be more discreet."

 

The old man took the bag and crossed the now empty ward to the bathroom before peering into the bag. What he saw first surprised him and then he laughed out loud as he pulled out a pair of jeans, a scarlet polo top and a pair of moccasins. The panty girdle puzzled him at first but the French knickers and cami top delighted Maggie. He realised the need for the control of the girdle as he struggled into the jeans. His hands didn't seem to be able to close the zip on the jeans until Maggie took over, they were styled for a female!

He/she shyly opened the bathroom door to meet Rose carrying a rather fetching pink anorak which was immediately slipped around his shoulders.

"Where are we going?"

"My place, for Christmas. "

As Ian began to speak, Rose interrupted him, "Just you be quiet, now. There's not a lot of call for physio over the Christmas break so I'm on holiday. Come on, get the coat on properly, you're signed out in my care until six in the evening on the 27th and you can ring your family from my place. They're putting all the wards together to save staff over Christmas so no one can find anyone. If there's a call for you the hospital will ring me and you can call back. Simple, isn't it? Come on, into the wheelchair."

 

CHAPTER FIVE

 

For the first time in nearly five months the frail figure left the hospital but having entered as Ian they were at least temporarily leaving as Maggie. He ha no idea what was going on but the prospect of being Maggie after such a long time was too good a chance to miss. Rose's flat, which was only a short drive from the hospital, was neat, ultra feminine and had a warm cosy feel to it.

"I know you'll be tired but there are one or two essential little tasks to complete first. Now this is your bedroom, I'll leave you for a minute and if you'll strip down to your cami and knickers you can put that robe on and then come on through to my bedroom. I want to get your "hairy bits" sorted out they do look so unfeminine. After that you can have a long soak in the bath. If you're up to it we can have a chat then."

All this was said in a tone that permitted no argument from the bemused figure and anyway there was no way Maggie was going to pass up the opportunity to be herself for a few days. Rose's idea of "sorting out the hairy bits" was absolute. Legs and underarms were waxed. Fortunately, Ian was overly hairy his body mainly covered in very fine downy hair that was not dissimilar to feminine body hair but even so it was an eye watering experience. Rose left nothing to chance, waxing off the fine hair that served as Ian's sideboards and eyebrows were brutally plucked into shape. She produced the latest depilatory product to clear his chin and upper lip of the unwanted stubble. It was the very latest product guaranteed to prevent regrowth for at least a week.

Maggie was at last beginning to appear as Rose left to run a bath leaving her patient to rub smoothing cream into her hands and body. The bathroom was comfortingly steamy and Maggie breathed in the gently perfumed bubble bath as she lay back in the enveloping warmth. Rose watched her patient relax and pointed out dusting powder and towels before leaving.

Except for the "dangly bits" hidden beneath the water it was Maggie lying there, luxuriating in the sheer joy of being, after so long, herself. As she lay there she wondered about her friend and confidante, remembering with fondness their school girlish whispered conversations and gratitude this most precious Christmas present, the granting of a feminine interlude amidst the long and slow recovery. Ian's thoughts intruded into the hazy enjoyment. How had Rose known so much? How had she known about the trunk and persuaded the family to give him up for Christmas? The ultimate question was, why? Why was she doing this? There were so many unanswered questions.

The bath had originally been only moderately hot so after 20 minutes it was becoming uncomfortably lukewarm so Maggie (with Ian's physical bits) stepped from the bath and wrapped herself in the luxurious bathrobe. Having carefully dried herself she liberally dusted herself with the delicately perfumed, before sitting quietly for a moment to savour every moment of her dreamlike experience. She had waited so long for this and now it had begun, if a little unexpectedly. The bath draining had told Rose Maggie was ready for her and she popped her head around the door to catch Maggie cleaning the bath with a cloth.

"Come on, you're the patient. You're not supposed to do that sort of thing. Leave the towels, as well, I'll tidy them up later. Come on through to your bedroom, there's one or two surprises. I love surprises, don't you?"

She hustled the berobed figure into the bedroom where she flung open a wardrobe to reveal Maggie's clothes, the contents of the trunk, neatly arrayed. It was apparent everything had been washed and ironed. She pulled open draws to reveal her underclothes neatly folded away.

"But how? Why? When?" stuttered the puzzled figure.

"Explanations later. You do use the medical adhesive for your boobs? Well, it's in that draw, there. Now, if you slip the panty girdle on, there's slippers over there and that nightie and negligee should fit you. Oh yes, your wigs are in that cupboard. "

Maggie completed the full transformation with great speed. The night wear proved to be gorgeous, consisting of a peach, high necked full length nightie with a floaty three quarter sleeved matching negligee. While she was putting the finishing touches to her hair Maggie noticed that all her jewellery and nail polish had been set out on the dressing table, alongside a single lipstick and matching Soon she was slipping a gold roped chain around her neck, clipping matching earrings into place and lovingly fitting her two favourite rings on her fingers. After carefully applying the lipstick she set out to find Rose, clutching the bottle of nail polish, hoping for one last favour.

Rose sat in the lounge, seated in one of two comfortable easy chairs near the fire. As Maggie entered her friendly face looked up, stared almost panic stricken at the figure before her and burst into tears. Now it was Maggie's turn to provide the support her friend had given her over the past months. The two female figures hugged one another, unashamedly crying but for different reasons.

"Rose, surely I don't look that awful, do I? If you keep this up I'll have to go back to hospital and if I go back dressed like this, there will be such a fuss about which ward to put me in. And what happens if they don't let me in? Where will I go?"

Rose was in a pitiful state. Time and time again she tried to explain her tears but each time she broke down again. Finally Maggie managed to calm her sufficiently to find a box of tissues and to escape to the kitchen to make a pot of tea. As she waited for the kettle to boil she was still no wiser about her friend's outburst. Her return, complete with tray, caused another flood of tears.

"Do you want to tell me?" asked Maggie, with just a touch of trepidation.

"It isn't what you think." sobbed Rose. "It was a shock, seeing you like that. No, no, I don't mean that. You reminded me of someone. I hadn't expected you.... You're so real, so feminine. I so desperately wanted to enjoy being Maggie, what I didn't realise was, you would be so feminine. Oh. It's so hard to explain."

"I feel good but I didn't think I looked good enough to have this effect. Who do I remind you of?"

The question started yet another flood of tears but eventually she calmed down enough to explain. It seemed her late husband, Ron, like Ian had been a closet cross dresser. Rose had never been aware of his needs, though with hindsight she had recalled a number of events which should have warned her. He had been made redundant and to help the finances Rose had taken a second, part time job at the clinic. It had only been when a patient had failed to show up for an appointment and she had checked the file for a follow up letter that she discovered the patient had been her beloved Ron. She had been devastated and at first, sat in her little office, had experienced anger, followed by degradation and had finally determined to extract her revenge for his deceit. But then she had read his file and the notes of his consultations. There she learned of his despair, of his love and devotion to her and of his deep depression. Such had been his inner conflict and his desire not to hurt her that the inner conflict within him had caused the consultant to write at the foot of a page, "Failure to attend a consultation should be followed up immediately as there may be a major crisis. Consider referral to psychiatrist. Suicidal. "

She had dashed from work, battling her way across town only to arrive too late. Her beloved Ron was curled up on the bed an empty bottle of sleeping tablets beside him. There was a note, too. A declaration of his sorrow, his regrets but mainly of his love for her and how, despite his gender conflict, he had never been unfaithful to her in thought or deed.

"I decided, there and then if I ever came across another TS I would help them because I had failed my Ron. He had tried to tell me but I had never listened. I never understood. I can't ever forgive myself. "

By now, Rose had cried herself to exhaustion. Her face was blotchy, her eyes bloodshot. Quietly, Maggie took her arm and led her to her bedroom. It was a testament to Ian's total surrender to his inner female self that the process of undressing Rose and settling her into her bed was solely an act of kindness of one concerned female for her friend.

Maggie strolled around the flat, absorbing femininity that seemed to hang in the air as she tidied up. As she switched off the kitchen light she suddenly realised how tired she felt and looked forward to bed herself. There was a moan from Rose's bedroom and as Maggie looked in she saw Rose half sat up in bed.

"I've turned everything off and the front door's locked so try to get some sleep."

"I'm sorry about tonight, I've spoilt everything."

"Don't be so silly. It'll be Christmas Day soon, get some sleep. We'll talk tomorrow, if you want. I can't tell you how much you've done for me, already. "With that, Maggie leant forward and affectionately kissed her friend goodnight, before returning to her own room to settle down for a deliciously feminine night's sleep.

 

CHAPTER SIX

 

The old man's eyes snapped open. For a moment he had no idea where he was. As the memories came flooding back Maggie glowed with satisfaction. The satisfaction of, at long last, being herself. In the past the old man had managed a very occasional night away, as Maggie but the morning had come only too soon and there had always been that undignified scramble to return to Ian, combined with the disappointment of packing away Maggie's clothes, until the seemingly distant next time. The tightness of her nightie tugged at her waist as it had worked it's way up from her tossing and turning during the night. The feeling was strangely comforting, confirming her femininity. She snuggled beneath the duvet, breathing in the rich aroma of the talc that seemed to envelop her and purred with satisfaction.

As she lay halfway between sleep and wakefulness the images of her dream world flitted tantalisingly into her consciousness. Michael, her mythical lover, whose favours she had been so cruelly denied, appeared, beckoning to her. Strangely they were no longer at the hotel but now seemed to be in an apartment. The air was warm and she walked on an uncarpeted floor. She sensed comfortableness between them that had not been there, in the earlier dream. It was beyond comfort though, it was intimacy, knowing one another, in every way. Maggie felt different in other ways, too. There was a heaviness to her breasts, both unfamiliar and yet exciting. In her dream she glanced down at her self, towards the marble floor. No shoes but painted toe nails and a swimming costume. As she walked towards her lover, as if on air, she turned to a mirror she knew was on the wall.

The sight shocked her dreaming eyes open. She desperately forced the lids closed hoping to return to this secret world but it had gone as though it was a mirage. She had seen herself, Maggie, in feminised version of Ian's body. Not the fantasy of youth but the reality of a grey haired sixty something attractive lady. Glowing with femininity and so obvious female for the figure had surprised her. The breasts were so obviously real, not perfect but their reality was their perfection. Even more startling were the feminine waist and hips and there was no mistaking the smooth line of the swimming costume as it ran between her legs. This was no male masquerading, however artfully as a female; this was a female, in all her glory. And then there was Michael, older, now silver haired but he had retained his vigour, she somehow knew and that was a matter of a puzzling satisfaction.

But what did all this mean? The original dream had given the old man the strength to survive the ordeal of the accident but this was different. Maggie decided the first dream had been hope, this new one was expectation. This was Maggie's price for saving his life. Now he was able the price would willingly be paid. Random thoughts passed through Maggie's mind. It would be some time before her body would be fit and perhaps a month before the longed for discharge from hospital. Then there would be a period of necessary convalescence, probably with Jemma and her family. It was important her family didn't gang up on her; they might not be too keen on a granny in the granny flat! Everyone seemed to imagine that once you were over 60 you belonged in a home and weren't capable of making decisions for yourself. That was a trap to be avoided. Rose had been such a comfort and encouragement over the past months but there were still so many unanswered questions. As if by magic, at that moment, Rose appeared at the bedroom door, a robe around her ample form, carrying a tray.

"Coffee for you, isn't it? Happy Christmas, my dear. Do you know, it never occurred you would sleep in your wig? You look so natural. You really are Maggie." She leaned across and pecks on the cheek were exchanged.

"What's happening today?"

"You're on holiday, you're to take it easy so get up when you're ready. The turkey's in the oven and we can do the vegetables later. If you feel confident enough we could go for a walk in the park across the road." She smiled mischievously and carried on, "I expect there's one or two things you want to know so there's plenty to chat about. I've already bathed and put my undies on so it'll only take me a couple of minutes, once you're ready."

With another wicked grin she slipped the tie on her robe to reveal a rich coffee coloured cami set with lacy adornment at her legs and bust. Tightly drawn suspenders protruded from her knickers. The emphasis placed on her bust and waist indicated she wore some type of heavy control garment beneath her silky underwear. Maggie puzzled over the absence of any straps, other than the cami`s delicate ones at her shoulders.

"It's lovely. It really suits you. Is the bra strapless?"

"It's a heavily boned corset so I don't need straps. It was Ron's. I swore I'd wear it every Christmas, to remember. Are you getting up now?" murmured Rose, her mind obviously on her late husband.

Hurriedly finishing her coffee Maggie dropped her feet to the floor. Rose flashed a reassuring smile as she draped the beautiful negligee around herself for the journey to the bathroom. Once again the warmth of the bath water eased her aching muscles as she luxuriated in the sheer femininity of her situation. Despite her sound night's sleep the old man felt himself floating off into the now familiar daydream.

It was the flat again and now she was certain they were in Spain and Michael was with her. As the bath bound Maggie lay, eyes closed she carefully explored the precious world not daring to even move her head for fear of breaking the magic spell. Her eyes peered this way and then that, trying to establish her exact whereabouts. She felt the caress of a sheet over her, in the humid air. She was in bed but a single bed. The wave of disappointment conflicted with the years of ingrained masculinity for the disappointment was so intensely feminine. She gently altered her position to catch a glimpse of more. The movement felt strange. Her breasts! She was experiencing the weight of her breasts! These were no falsies, however good. These were flesh and blood and they were hers. Tentatively her fingers dared to explore and touch the reality.

A gasp rose from both figures as a nipple sprang to attention. Icy tingles spread through unfamiliar parts of their shared body. The other hand moved to the other breasts. She lay, glorying in the smoothness and sensitivity of these so feminine additions to her body. Each movement, however slight sent further tingles not only through the ample flesh of her breasts but interestingly sent signals producing a warm glow in her loins. She felt comfortable and yet there was more, expectancy perhaps.

At the edge of her vision there was a movement. Carefully so the spell was not broken, she edged her head a fraction in that direction. There he was! There was her Michael! Understanding came in a flash. It was Spain, that was why it was warm. However comfortable double beds might be in the cool English climate, single ones were more practical abroad. Anyway, she caught herself thinking, if we wanted to..... Well, wanted to give a hint, an invitation to my bed is clear enough, isn't it? Particularly on my honeymoon.

The thought had just slipped into her mind, without warning. Once it had been thought there was no doubt it was true. She was on her honeymoon. Momentarily she blanked out all thought, fearing the shock might snatch away the heaven she had discovered. She was old fashioned enough to believe a honeymoon equalled marriage and that in turn equalled a man and a woman. Tentatively, afraid of what she might find, her hand slid down her body. The delicate patterns of her cotton night dress burned at her fingers as she came closer to the answer to only one of a thousand questions racing through her head.

The night dress had worked its way a few inches above her objective. Her hand stopped not daring to go on until it paused at her pubic hair and as she drew a deep breath of uncertainty it finally plunged onwards.

Now there was no doubt. The mirror had not lied on her previous visit to the dream world as she caressed full femininity. Her fingers explored, she could not have stopped them if she had tried. First they encountered warmth and then dampness as they, with a will of their own, massaged deeply. Within moments a glow radiated throughout her body that was comforting and vaguely exciting.

In the bath the reclining figure frowned at the contradiction between dream and reality. Surely this was a fantasy but one driven by the formerly dormant female inner self of Ian. As Maggie became stronger her desires were becoming the reality. Her need to cast off all the paraphernalia of manhood, all remembrance of the masculine shell were her desires. Even so this was different. The honeymooning Maggie was so completely confident in her womanhood, so utterly female. The two Maggie's shared common thoughts and experiences but it was though the honeymooning Maggie was welcoming the dreaming Maggie to her life and how proud she was of it, too. She was the new bride shyly showing a dear friend around her new home and lifestyle. Was this the Maggie of the future or was this the aspiration of the Maggie within?

Michael stirred in his bed. His eyes flashed open and he beamed a smile across at his wife. In unspoken enquiry he raised his silvering eyebrows. The bath bound figure was trapped by the feelings, movements and desires of her hostess and there was little doubt what she had on her mind. Arms reached down to pull the nightie, which rasped further sensations over her entire body, over her head. Both Maggies gasped as the expectation of pleasures to come coursed through their mutual nerve endings.

Michael rose from his bed, tossing the sheet to one side. Maggie admired the tall still handsome figure before her. His naked body made his interest and intentions clear. Fascinated, one Maggie saw a much loved part of his anatomy and the other stared, partly in fear, at his growing manhood. The relaxed expectation of the holidaying mind indicated this was to the highlight of her alto ego's visit and told of as yet undiscovered pleasures to come. There was a quiet confidence in the expertise of Michael but there was a hint of fear, too. The fear was of not reaching the heights of ecstasy and the fear of disappointment. The visiting alter ego glowed in the intense love and commitment of her female counterpart and sensed she too wanted, desperately, to experience it at first hand. This was perfection but so precious and any blot could so easily snatch it all away.

The watching mind felt a tinge of jealousy at the tenderness she witnessed and at her hostess` total femininity and recognised it was to be preserved at any cost. Michael reached down and took her hand, leading her from the bedroom. Maggie noted the kitchenette and dining area but somehow was not surprised to see the huge leather sofa in the lounge. This, she knew, was a favourite place, a place where they had reached the heights of ecstasy together many times before. Both women experienced an uneasiness until he lowered his head to reach his lips to hers. To be the subject of such intensity, such fervour was a shock to one of the combined minds but even greater was the effect on their body. The kiss awoke forgotten longings and awoke sensations almost too intense to bear.

Her lips were alight with the teasing insistent pressure upon them. Her breasts shrank tight over her burgeoning nipples sending a sensual bursting glow through her bosom. Both minds experienced the trepidation as the shared body prepared to skyrocket towards the ultimate pleasure. She became aware of his hands stroking and caressing her back releasing a further tingling through her whole body and into unexpected places. Instinctively her own hands brushed tenderly at his neck and shoulders, careful not to be too arousing yet. His needs would be satisfied later at the very moment of fulfilment.

Now more was expected of him. First her lips parted to invite his tongue inside. She sucked at it, drawing it over hers. Their tongues fought back and forth like two swordsmen engaged in a loving duel. As the tender battle continued their mutual excitement grew thrusting ever more urgently into one another. Now both Maggies were equally involved, both driven by their needs.

He beautifully manicured hands drew the brightly painted nails teasingly down his back around his waist and cupped his manhood, avoiding the rod that was firmly propped between their bodies. Almost immediately he pulled regretfully away from her lips and ran his chin down her front to plant wet, vacuumy kisses on each breast, playfully sucking at each nipple. The tightness in her nipples, trying to escape the constriction of her skin, multiplied a thousand glorious times with every touch and she found herself unable to breathe. Her head swam and a roaring assailed her ears. Michael, her beloved Michael, knew her time was close and lowered her gently to the leather couch. Its touch brought a gasp from her lips but the shock took her whole being to the next level of awareness.

Momentarily she opened her eyes to gaze tenderly at her man before easing her thighs apart to grant him access to her. Her hands fluttered, guiding him home and though her readiness made the invasion smooth the stretching forced yet more quivering excitement through her body. As he quickened inside her, his thighs subjugating her body to his and the cold touch of the leather at her back contrasted with the heat of his desire she rose to the edge of ecstasy. Flashes of light appeared before her eyes, the roaring in her ears intensified and the warmth inside her became a searing heat. He rocked over her, gently at first and then with increasing urgency as both rushed on to fever pitch.

Their bodies bucked together as they sought to extract every millisecond from their zooming joyride to the orgasmic heights. Maggie was shocked as she savoured his explosion within her. Then as he continued to move a new screaming uncontrollable tightness came within her breasts, in her whole being as a rollercoastering, all embracing wave of release and pleasure engulfed her. Words could not begin to describe the either the screaming ecstasy she had experienced nor the satisfied and fulfilled calm that enveloped her afterwards

 

CHAPTER SEVEN

 

There was awareness of awaking for the bath bound figure. One moment she was luxuriating in her life with Michael the next the old man was ensuring all the nooks and crannies were drying. There was no memory of rising from the bath. Time had stood still. As the figure prepared to return to outward femininity he puzzled over his/ her experiences. What was this vision? Was it fantasy, or a view of the future, granted to encourage him and to provide hope for the woman inside?

These thoughts raced on as the refreshed body tripped like a youngster through to the bedroom. She dispensed talcum powder with a gay abandonment reflecting a lighter mood and then turned to consider her all too small collection of clothes. Packed in the trunk there had seemed so much but now there seemed so little in the vastness of the wardrobe. She fingered this and then that, unable to decide. It was Christmas, which demanded something special. There was a much loved navy skirt, calf length and pleated but what should she wear with it?

Suddenly she remembered. There was a blouse. It had been more than just a blouse and she had never worn it. Draws flew open and shut as she searched. She knew had been stored still in its protective tissue paper and the bag from the shop. Finally she found it lying at the bottom of the wardrobe. Gently and with loving care she drew it from the sheath of tissues and laid it carefully on her bd.

Ideal for Christmas. A rich emerald green with a cowl neck, buttoned right up the front before the cowl was laid to dip V necked between her breasts. Padded shoulders and slightly puffed long sleeves gave it an alluring shape. More draws were flung open to discover 15 denier stockings and a matching turquoise cami, French knickers and half slip set. What else, she thought? The calmly excited figure selected a favourite white, suspendered body to fit over the still, regretfully needed waist clincher.

Her unwanted masculinity was still in evidence as she stood in front of the full length mirror to adjust the laces ready to constrict her body to the shape she desired so much. A pull on the laces and then a final, desperate haul and the basis for Maggie's figure was achieved. As the body was slipped on the slim body Maggie came into being. The suspenders dangled seductively, waiting to fulfil their purpose. She reached for her silicon inserts and sprayed them with the adhesive before fitting them precisely into place. She gazed critically at herself and decided her stay in hospital had trimmed her figure nicely. The stockings were next to be drawn lovingly into place over her now hairless legs. She decided the discomfort of the waxing had been worthwhile as the caress of the nylon sheathes on her silky legs reminded her how rarely she had been able to enjoy such things in the past.

Standing she ensured they were tautly suspendered and did not sag. Now satisfied and overjoyed at her return to femininity she fitted the satin underwear set over her female shape. As she made sure the rear pleat of the half slip was correctly centred she reflected on how much more she looked in a mirror than Ian. It was not self admiration but a pride in her appearance and a desire for everything to be just right. Though her male counterpart had no interest in clothes Maggie enjoyed being smart. It was a contrast with Ian's scruffiness, despite his good clothes. It was not narcissistic for her to constantly check her appearance for she did not love or desire the figure who gazed back at her. Indeed, she was highly critical of her own appearance.

Lovingly she unbuttoned the blouse and with trembling figures slowly and carefully rebuttoned it over herself. There was no doubt it was gorgeous. Quickly she slipped into the navy skirt deliberately not looking in the mirror. The belt had to fastened an extra notch tighter, she was pleased to note, due to the weight she had lost in hospital. Fitting her feet into her shoes she slowly turned to meet the nearly complete Maggie in the mirror. Since she had not done her nails the night before she now devoted over an hour to improving on nature. Once satisfied with her make up and with her nails dry she fitted and brushed her wig before slipping on her jewellery. Now she felt ready to face the world but the first test was her friend. This was a major test for though she knew there would be sympathy and understanding from Rose she desired to cross over the great divide between man and woman. The thought was a shock until she recognised finally she was on the final stretch of her lifelong odyssey from Ian to Maggie.

Taking a deep breath the now fully feminine figure grasped the door handle and cautiously stepped forward to confront Rose. She found her in the kitchen peeling potatoes. As Maggie appeared she turned, smiled and stared all in one movement.

"You made me jump. I like your blouse, it suits you so much. I didn't really know what to expect. Where did you get it?"

At first Maggie found conversation difficult but gradually as Rose indicated her approval of her friend's sense of style they began to chat comfortably. A stranger, secretly watching would have seen two women, the shorter in her forties and amply endowed and the taller, slimmer one an indefinite fifty plus. Both were attractively dressed in a style appropriate to their age and the occasion and even their conversation was little more than mundane kitchen chatter. As Maggie talked she relaxed and grew in confidence. They shared the tasks between them, helping unbidden when the need arose.

"There, everything's ready. The turkey will be another hour, at least so there's no point putting the vegetables on yet. How about a quick walk in the park? We only need be ten minutes or so and it shouldn't tire you too much. It'll help your appetite. You look as if you need feeding up. I'm quite jealous of you figure." There was another of those wicked smiles from Rose as she turned to fetch her coat.

Maggie scurried to her bedroom to fetch her pride and joy.

Years ago, at a time of great sadness and frustration in Ian's life and when nothing had seemed to go right he had bought a leather, three quarter coat for Maggie. It had been a source of great pleasure to both of them. Ian's wife, Ruth, had fallen ill not long after Maggie had finally made her devastating appearance. Discovering, for Ian, there was considerably more to his transvestism and mixed up sex drive than he had realised had been a considerable shock. Truthfully Ian had realised there was more to his enjoyment of female attire but had never chosen to face it. There had always so many other things to do. The children were important and he had enjoyed his work but the conflict within him had caused him a nervous breakdown eight years before his wife's illness had struck her like a thunderbolt. Part of his therapy for recovery had been the putting aside of his inner conflicts for a short time and meeting Maggie had been a revelation. He had determined he had to bow to her needs, so long denied.

Ruth had been afflicted with what was first diagnosed as a stroke. At only forty five it was a tragedy but as she recovered the doctors were not satisfied with their diagnosis. After months of doubt words were spoken that struck fear into both their hearts. This apparent stroke was only the first stage of the illness and at some indefinite time in the future it would come back. And when it came it would be with a vengeance, attacking first one part of her body and then another and then perhaps lying dormant. It was totally disabling, a debilitating and terrible affliction striking at muscles, nerves and the will to live with bewildering illogically.

Ian could not bring himself to leave however much Maggie needed to be herself and even Maggie could not bring herself to start her life on the back of such misery. Ian and Ruth's relationship declined as he lost himself in his work but still providing a distant caring for his wife. Don't misunderstand he still gave himself unstintingly for his whole family but he could not bring himself to love his wife as a man should. He had confessed his need to dress as a woman. That had been difficult enough but the explanation of his misaligned gender was beyond Ruth's comprehension. His tearful confession had been met by the usual gay jibe and the matter was firmly closed to further discussion.

A truce of sorts developed between them. Ruth dealt with her illness and her husband's malfunctioning in the same way. She ignored them, except to relieve her feeling by berating Ian from time to time. Ian was left to ponder his problems and to cope with being a "carer" in waiting. The stresses and strains of the waiting, Ian's longing for release and Ruth's disdain for her husband reduced their marriage to a polite fiction. Three years after the first attack it struck again. It seemed so innocuous constant pins and needles and Ruth had tried to hide it. Eventually there was a paralysis in one arm and Ruth was so frightened. Both knew what the illness could do; reduce her to a shaking, helpless bed bound lump of humanity. Ian had not been perfect but the fear turned Ruth into a harridan, bent on making her husband's life a misery. Equally, though her fear was he would leave and so they became locked in a painful real life tragedy. Neither was happy but neither could let go of the other and so they unhappily tortured themselves and each other over the following years.

There were moments of escape for Ian, always to Maggie. Ruth's sister seeing the strain building in both her sister and Ian had insisted Ruth went to stay on a regular basis, to give them a break. It had been during her one of those escapes that Maggie had bought the leather coat she treasured. The thought of it had kept Ian (and Maggie) going through many dark days, months and years. Maggie smiled as recalled wearing the coat for the first time. She had managed two days as Maggie. She recalled the calmness that fell over her as she was treated as a woman but not only that, it was going to bed as Maggie and dressing the following morning in her true identity. It was not just the caress of femininity it was being able to live, walk, talk and be herself. There was disappointment when she had to return as Ian but the memories were hoarded against the desolation of Ian's world.

Maggie reached into the capacious pockets of the coat. If her memory served her correct there should be gloves and scarf hidden away. She pulled out the bright multicoloured gloves and a head scarf. Ian had made a rule that he should never steal his wife's clothes nor rescue cast offs. This was the only exception, an emerald green (How fortunate, she thought) tube of mohair, normally worn around the neck but if needed it could be drawn up over the hair to protect head and hair whilst still wrapped around the neck. It was so warm and certainly appropriate for her first venture out into the cold December air.

The two female figures met at the front door and met felt the shiver of trepidation as she prepared to leave the safety and comfort of the flat. Rose smiled encouragement and stepped aside for her friend to pass.

"Hello, Rose. Happy Christmas,"

Maggie started as Rose's neighbour stepped from her own adjoining front door.

Happy Christmas, Sarah. This is a friend, Maggie who's staying with me over Christmas. She's only just come out of hospital. " Rose replied cheerfully. With breath held Maggie shyly nodded and whispered Christmas greetings. Sarah smiled and the three females descended the stairs together, Sarah and Rose chattering brightly. Maggie was reluctant to join in as she was not yet confident about pitching her voice correctly. She did manage one or two monosyllabic replies to enquiries from Sarah but she breathed a sigh of relief when the neighbour set off in the opposite direction.

"She made you jump, didn't she? Don't worry though. You look perfect and with very little work your voice won't give you away."

"It was a shock, that's all. I didn't expect to meet someone quite so soon. I was OK? Wasn't I?"

Rose reassured her friend and they walked silently together, each lost in her own thoughts. Hesitantly Maggie asked how Rose had learned about the trunk and how she had persuaded Brian to part with it.

"I wondered when you were going to ask. It was one of the things you talked about while you were unconscious. You were petrified someone might open it and discover your secret. Obviously at first I didn't know what was in it but after I'd listened to you a few times, I worked it out. And when that loathsome son in law of yours was trying to get you to hand everything over to him to sell, I was by your bed. It was a good thing I was, you were still very weak and confused and he's such a bully. I could see you were getting very agitated, remember? "

"Was that the time when you asked whether there was anyone else I wanted to deal with things?"

"That's right. It was odd, though, it was Jemma who suggested Brian. Doesn't she trust her own husband?"

"Jemma knows Gerry and I don't see eye to eye and I don't really trust him. It's an awful thing to say about your daughter's husband but he only ever has his own selfish interests at heart and he's not above feathering his own nest at someone else's expense. But, that was it, when Brian came to see me he already knew there was something I needed removing from the house and keeping safe. That was you, wasn't it?"

By now they had reached the park which was just across the road from the block of flats and as Rose nodded agreement she indicated the path they should take.

"I can see the park from my bedroom window. In the spring the flower beds a quite a sight. Don't be upset, dear, but I told Brian you were staying with me over Christmas. I'm not sure but I think he thinks we've got a thing going between us. As Rose and Ian, I mean. He's known you and Ruth for a long time, hasn't he?"

Maggie was shocked and surprised by the suggestion. Brian was a solicitor. Ruth and Ian (Maggie was now thinking as Maggie, therefore Ian was a remote separate person) had known him both professionally for wills and the like over many years and as a personal friend. In fact he was one of the few friends Ian and Ruth had in common over the final years.

Rose turned to her friend, "Ruth had been to see him, not long before she died. She was convinced you'd been having a long term affair with someone. Hadn't you told her about Maggie?"

Maggie explained how Ruth had chosen to forget Ian's painful confession of his looking for femininity and had refused to discuss it. As they strolled slowly around the park Maggie movingly described the conflict of her long term commitment to the ailing Ruth.

"He knows there's something, Brian I mean. He's no fool, you know and he's man of the world. He asked what was in the trunk. Being a lawyer he's cautious and he thinks the answers to Ruth's fears are hidden there. I had to hint but I don't know whether he understood. For all I know he might think it's full of dirty books or chains or worse. You'll have to settle it with him. He's been a good friend to you and you owe it to him."

Maggie stopped, wanting to explain her plans now she was free to take up her life but Rose interrupted her pointing out they had to get back to the flat. As they crossed the road Sarah reappeared, inviting them to join her for a sherry convinced they could find the time. Maggie hesitated and pleaded silently with Rose not to accept. Rose's reply surprised her.

"We can't refuse. If you are what you think you are then you've got to face meeting people. You can't run away. You've run away from it all your life and now is the time to face up to it. If she reads you for what you are then so be it. It doesn't devalue Maggie. Face up to it and be Maggie or strip everything off, burn your clothes and I'll take you back to the hospital."

This was it. The time for Maggie to make her decision. It was one thing doing things when they were carefully planned but if she wanted to be Maggie, permanently then she had to take everything as it came. Dreaming was one thing, living a life was another. She thought of the joy of herself, as she was and compared it with the drab disappointment of Ian. He would always wonder. Now was the time to decide. Another month before he came out of hospital, perhaps 3 months convalescence at Jemma`s and then? Six months living as Maggie. If it didn't work then his and her life had been wasted on a dream but a confidence was growing which suggested what the decision would be at the end of the trial.

Maggie turned to Rose, who had been watching her closely, "Yes, we will go for the glass of sherry and there's something else I need. The address of that clinic."

They walked arm in arm back to Sarah's flat.

  

CHAPTER EIGHT

 

"Sarah's lonely; she only wants a chat, that's all. We can't stay too long, lunch is nearly ready and you've got to phone your family."

On reflection Maggie enjoyed the visit. Sarah was so busy gossiping she took little notice. On a couple of occasions she frowned, perhaps at the way Maggie spoke or a casual movement but it might have been Maggie's imagination. Ian gave Maggie her head and she didn't embarrass him. Rose only intervened when Sarah strayed onto the subject of a male occupant of the flats whose sexual orientation was the subject of considerable speculation. Eventually the two friends made their escape, wishing Sarah the season's greetings.

"I do feel o sorry for her, she's all alone. While I put the vegetables on you ring your family."

The old man became himself to call his children. They were only the duty calls required at that time of year. There were one or two white lies about imagined occurrences in the ward and conversations with other patients. Strangely the effort in maintaining a fatherly image over the phone had now become a greater problem than being Maggie.

One final vestige of Ian intruded into their Christmas lunch. Rose had never learned the art of carving so Maggie was wrapped around with a frilly apron to perform the task. Maggie realised as she carved it was much too large for the two of them.

"I was going to mention that later. We have a visitor, tomorrow."

The look on Maggie's face was one of horror.

"There's no need for you to worry. You'll like him. He's a doctor. At the clinic. If you don't want to meet him, say. " the final words were issued as a challenge. Maggie became aware Rose was watching her every move as she ate and consciously made the effort to take as small mouthfuls as possible, constantly trying to be as feminine as possible. As she ate Maggie wondered about tomorrow's visitor. Rose seemed able to surprise her at every turn. Was the visitor for her, or Rose or for both?

"I can see your mind turning over. After Ron died, Nigel, the doctor, was very kind to me. He understood the bewilderment of the wives and the girlfriends of TV's and TS's. In the past two years, we've become more than just friends."

"But you've given up Christmas Day together, for me."

"Up until now I've always spent it on my own, to remember Ron and anyway Nigel visits his ex wife and children. This year I didn't want to be alone. That's why you're here, killing two birds with one stone!"

"Are you two...?"

"We've talked about it. Now we don't work together it's easier. We're thinking of getting married in a few months. Will you be our maid of honour?"

Rose had done it yet again. She had surprised Maggie and challenged her to be herself. The dreams and needs of so many years were becoming reality, so quickly. After all the years of frustration Maggie's natural pessimism wondered what could go wrong this time. She knew the combined Maggie and Ian were not going to alter, whatever their physical state. Ian's caution was Maggie's caution. The personality was the same, there was no difference. It was just the person who now sat in Rose's flat had been born Ian and always felt he should have been born Maggie. Externally there were differences and the physical bits needed tidying up but the masculinity of Ian had only ever been a shell he had adopted for preservation. It was getting rid of those ingrained male reflexes that worried Ian.

"I've been thinking. If I come out of hospital in, say, January and then I'll need three months convalescence with Jemma. During that time I can organise bank accounts and the like for Maggie, then about Easter will be about the time Maggie becomes a reality. Will you help if I ask for advice?"

Of course, I'll help all I can. First have a word with Nigel, tomorrow and go over everything. He's very thorough so I expect he'll want to know all sorts of things. I hope you don't mind but I've already filled him in on one or two things."

As the two females lapsed into companionable silence Maggie realised she had not given her the hastily acquired present and as Rose opened it there were tears shed by both. The afternoon drifted on in a dreamy comfort interrupted only by the washing up, the Queen's speech and sporadic conversation. Their chat turned to Ian's life which Rose found fascinating as she tried to understand Ron's despair. Maggie explained how in the last years of Ruth's life she had managed to get two days a month to herself. Their children had insisted Ian take a day off each week from the care of their mother. Ian (and naturally Maggie too) had always had an interest in family genealogy and this involved visits over the country, researching. Ian had to make sure his researches actually proceeded to answer Ruth's suspicious nature. Often his Wednesdays off were a bigger strain than caring for Ruth. Each month two days were devoted exclusively to investigations and the information gleaned was carefully shared out to cover the other days but each week the first call was always to the electrolysist.

Maggie often helped out on her days by typing notes, making telephone calls and the like. Maggie had a long standing arrangement with an understanding lady Ian had helped out with a professional problem a number of years previously. She earned her living by providing personal services to a select group of gentlemen who were into certain SM practices but was more than happy to observe the fortnightly transformation in her spare room. She found it strange that neither Maggie nor Ian ever required her professional services.

The advent of the portable phone had been a great boon. Ian could always be contacted by Ruth and often was, while he was out but she never really knew where he was. It was a game played in deadly earnest. Ruth constantly enquired where he had been and what he had been doing. Ian hated lying and longed to confront her with his gender problem but was only too well aware of the likely effect. Even in good health it would have been devastating but her illness had sapped her ability to cope with any upset. He knew that his inner secret meant he would go to almost any lengths to avoid confrontation. His enforced docility infuriated his wife on occasions to fits of spiteful anger. But the central caution of his personality made him hold back from replying in the same vein. He had often wondered whether this was saintliness or cowardice. He could never decide. Since he loathed self righteousness he concluded he must be a coward.

Rose listened, amazed as her friend revealed his/her innermost secrets. Even at the clinic she had never heard such self criticism, such damning self appraisal. She now began to understand how stress affected people in gender conflict. But Ian had been successful. If all this was true, how had he ever succeeded in his working life? Gradually she began to understand how the ability to hold the secrets within showed strength and character. The woman quietly talking to her was not young, not beautiful but with very little assistance there would be few who would query her identity. "I am what I am ", was a phrase that came to mind. That was how Maggie (And Ian) had survived all these years. Though self critical they just accepted that this was the way things were and got on with life. It was no use wishing their life away.

Yes, Ian desperately wanted to be Maggie but he had felt a long term obligation to Ruth and that was it. If she had challenged him then who knows what might have been the outcome? The contract he had made all those years ago and his obligation to his children had prevented him from fulfilling his feminine true self but so be it.

To break what was rapidly becoming a very sombre discussion Rose enquired about grandchildren. She saw the pride and joy of a granny in waiting as her friend recounted the trials and tribulations of her children and grandchildren. Rose gently enquired whether any had displayed gender problems. Maggie hesitated before replying.

"I had a shock a couple of years ago. We'd been invited to see a play at Paul's school. Paul is my eldest grandchild. Immediately after Jemma had rung up to invite us Gerry rang up to say we wouldn't enjoy the play and more or less withdrawing the invitation. That intrigued me and anyway Ruth wanted to go, for Jemma`s sake. Gerry got quite rude when I said we were coming and I had to be very firm with him. It was odd, Jemma had been reluctant to say exactly what part Paul was playing or what the play was. I thought perhaps they were doing something modern with strong language or the like.

You can imagine my surprise when I found they were doing "When we are married." It's very funny, have you ever seen it?"

Rose nodded, saying she had seen it at a local theatre recently.

"We bought a programme as soon as we arrived and scoured it for Paul's name. All the time Gerry was glowering and being generally unpleasant to all and sundry. I spotted it before Ruth which I'm not sure was a good idea. Paul's name wasn't in the cast list but there was a "Paula Mortenson" playing one of the parts and suddenly everything fell into place. That explained why Gerry was being such a pain! His son was playing a girl! "

"What was Ruth's reaction? She did know or suspect about you, didn't she?"

"Yes, she did. As soon as she realised what was going on she fell into a foul mood and complained she didn't feel well and wanted to go home. Fortunately Gerry had been out drinking that afternoon and Jemma had driven us all to the school. So we couldn't just leave. Ruth insisted I sat outside with her but Jemma came out to sit with her mother and let me see some of the play."

Rose looked Maggie straight in the eyes, "You saw something, didn't you? Come on your beginning to be a tease, what did you see?"

"It was something of a sock. The acting wasn't that good but Paul, Paula, or whoever was so natural. The swing of her hips, the way she held her hands and her whole body even the way she spoke were all the actions of a girl. There was no doubt in my mind. She fluffed her lines a couple of times, nothing serious but her reaction was that of a young girl. It was incredible. I'm getting so thirsty, can we have a cup of tea?"

"You're teasing again. If you stop even when we're in the kitchen I'll scream>"

Maggie smiled, getting her own back, however nicely on Rose showed her increasing confidence in herself. Additionally she was a little embarrassed at what she had seen in her eldest grandchild but the embarrassment had been for Ian not Paul. Had Ian seen what he had hoped to see, more than was in reality there? Was it wishful thinking that there was a family trait? As they strolled into the kitchen Maggie explained further.

"If I hadn't been convinced during the performance then I was certainly convinced afterwards. Jemma said she had asked Paul to come straight through, like the other members of the cast, to meet their families after the performance. She had thought Ruth would want to congratulate her eldest grandchild on his debut on stage but by the end of the play she had realised there was something very wrong. I was getting fierce looks from Ruth pleading to be saved from facing Paul in drag. Gerry was adding fuel to the fire by moaning and groaning how he'd been let down by everyone. "

"Go on, please the suspense is killing me." pleaded Rose.

"Well, I did the only thing I could think of. I went down to the dressing rooms to intercept Paul before he came face to face with his very distraught grandmother to tell me not to come out. No, that's wrong. I mean to tell him not to appear like that in front of everyone."

Maggie paused to collect her thoughts, further infuriating Rose. In truth Maggie, sensing Rose's expectancy paused a little longer than was necessary.

"As I was walking down the corridor the door of the ladies` loo opened and out came this girl. I found out later there was a staff room for the female members of staff through the same door and they had used this as the female dressing room. I didn't realise at first but the dress gave her, sorry I mean him, away. She was so natural and pretty, too. I was in a quandary. Should I say anything? Was he a TV? I was so shocked I just stood and stared. My mind was desperately working overtime. If he was what he certainly appeared to be, should I say anything? I couldn't bear to think he might have to go through all those years of waiting, like me.

He wasn't on stage any more but he was still a girl in the way he held himself and walked. It was amazing and it was so obvious that this girl was so pleased with herself. She was enjoying every second of what Gerry had claimed Paul found to be a most unpleasant obligation which one of the teachers had bullied and almost blackmailed him into. This pretty girl was enjoying life and knew she looked stunning in her dress. What could I say? Had I got it wrong? Even if I was right it would certainly embarrass him and could I be accused of corrupting him? Suggesting that he was something that I longed to be."

"And so?"

"The girl looked up and saw me. I saw her eyes mask as mine did when someone challenged Ian's interest in pretty underwear or something feminine. The look now said, yes perhaps I am like this but I can't share my thoughts with you in case you judge me. I couldn't bring myself to say anything of what I saw and knew was there. I just couldn't. Was I right?"

"You'll never know. But if the same circumstances arose again, would you say anything?"

"It would depend but now I probably would. Anyway I congratulated him on his performance, mentioning nothing of how pretty he looked, apologised for his granny's indisposition and gave him some money. In truth probably more than I should but I thought if he wanted to get some clothes or the like....."

"Has anything happened since?"

Maggie explained that other than a very unpleasant three way row on the way home between Ruth going on at Ian and Gerry going on at Jemma and Ian the subject had never been raised again. Ian had only seen Paul two or three times in the intervening period, once when he had been to see the old man in hospital. By now Maggie was tiring, after all this was her first full day up since the accident and it had been very exciting. Rose suggested she ready herself for bed and then they could continue their chat by the fireside with Maggie able to retire easily, if she became too tired.

The joy of settling down before the mirror to remove her makeup without worries about the perfume of the cleanser or whether every last bit of mascara had been removed lifted Maggie's spirits. Equally, the knowledge that tomorrow morning she would still be herself excited a calm ecstasy in the smiling figure working away. As she worked she noted a pot of well known hydrating cream on her dressing table with a card attached, reading, "Please use me. I'll do your skin good and I smell nice, too!"

Rose's thoughtfulness touched Maggie and after she had carefully put away her clothes and having donned her night dress and negligee she hurried through to express her gratitude once again. Maggie was regarded with a critical eye by Rose, "I must say Maggie looks a lot better than Ian and quite a few years younger, too. In fact you look positively radiant. Why don't you get the nail polish and I'll do your toes for you."

In recent years Maggie had rarely had time to paint her toe nails. This was the ultimate in luxury! As Rose knelt before her, working away, she explained her conversations with Nigel. He was prepared to have an informal initial chat with Maggie and assess her medical condition, which due to the accident was more critical than normal. Then he would explain the alternatives open to her.

"He's very blunt and perhaps he might even try to put you off. It's important they think you'll be able to cope, afterwards. Once you go so far things are irreversible so he'll want to make certain you'll be comfortable as the new you. A lot of patients think it'll solve all their problems but it won't. I don't think you're like that. He'll ask lots of personal questions so don't be embarrassed. He'll want to know about your sex life, about Ruth, how long you've been Maggie, inside and so on. Since it's a private consultation he says he can't see you alone so I'll sit in. That is if you don't mind."

Maggie took a deep breath and nodded silently, "There's a couple of things I think you ought to know. If you want me to stop, say. Won't you?"

Maggie sat back in her chair, closed her eyes and briefly thought. Her voice was hesitant and hardly above a whisper as she recounted the assignation in the men's toilets. Never before had a single word of what had happened that night or what she had felt passed her lips. Despite the impersonal way in which she described the events the intensity of the event was very apparent. She paused, awaiting Rose's reaction.

"Was it really as good as that?" was all she said. As Maggie nodded agreement a hot flush of embarrassment burned through her cheeks.

"Maggie James, you are a silly girl, an absolute sucker, aren't you? Look I don't really understand gay people but the way you described it there is no doubt it was very special>"

"There's something else. " mumbled Maggie, almost shamefaced.

"You don't have to tell me or Nigel for that matter."

"No, no, I want to. I wanted so desperately to be a woman but I didn't make the distinction between sex and gender. Not long after we got married. It was the freedom of leaving home. Oh, it was so unfair on Ruth, we shouldn't have married."

"Stop feeling so sorry for yourself. It's not like you. I shouldn't say really but the way you described it, it was almost beautiful, exciting and fruity." Rose was now embarrassed trying to explain how the account had even affected her, making her think of her nights with Nigel. Maggie was determined to go on to another memory that still troubled her.

"I met a man not long after we had married in the town where we lived. He was old and frankly disgusting in his habits. He didn't wash properly, I mean. He was gay, through and through. He started to chat me up and several times invited me to his home but the excitement of being newly married had put my gender identity problems to the back of my mind. I still kept on bumping into him so the confusion was still there. Ruth got a job in a bank when they still opened on Saturday mornings. She used to go off to work and leave me at home in bed and despite trying so hard to resist the call of femininity drew me once again. I began to collect odd bits of underwear and clothing.

Then I bought a dolly bird outfit. You remember, mid to late sixties, short corduroy skirt and a skimpy woollen top. Then I got hold of a wig, I can't remember where from. I so desperately wanted to wear them properly and to be treated as a girl. I was so disgustingly thin then, I had been only 8 ½ stone when we married and believe or not I had a 26 inch waist."

"Those were the days. I was the same but you've kept your figure. Anyway, carry on."

"One night I was up in the town, wearing a pair of bikini briefs under my trousers when I bumped into Reg.., that was the gay's name and he invited me back to his place again. This time I accepted. "

"Is that all?"

"No, there's more than that, much more. He lived out of town so I went with him in his car. He knew I was married but he wanted young firm flesh. When I explained I enjoyed wearing women's clothes he wasn't bothered. As we drove along he took one hand off the wheel and groped me, so gently. Later he pulled over into a secluded lay by, unbuttoned himself and placed my hand inside his trousers, making it clear I should stroke him. I was in quite a funk, this not being what I wanted but I still didn't understand the confusion I felt. We drove off again, him grinning with pleasure and my hand still gently stroking him.

He lived in an old terraced farm cottage and he boasted his neighbours were used to him bringing young men back. He hadn't even bothered to rebutton his flies before he ushered me out of the car and into his front door. Despite his boasting I suspect this was quite an event in his life but despite that he was always kind and never forced himself on me. I think he had been having a problem picking up young men and was content to go along with me until he got what he wanted, willingly from me. Even in those days we were aware of the dangers of unprotected sex and we never went as far as he wanted but he still managed to give me crabs. They were a nuisance to get rid of. "

"What did you do then?"

"It was strange. He took me upstairs, got me to strip down to my knickers, lie on the bed a just devoured me with his eyes. He never undressed himself, that first time."

"First time?"

"I'll come to that, later. He just sat, gazing at my body. He wasn't interested in me, just my body. I was shivering; part with being practically naked, part with fear as his eyes took in every inch of me. I closed my eyes, wondering what I had got myself into. I felt his hand on my cheek and as I jumped in fear he smiled reassuringly at me. His hand transferred to my hair and I watched him fall into a trance as he gently stroked me from head to toe, muttering to himself. His words were barely audible but he was admiring my soft milky white skin. His hands were huge, I think he was a farm worker but his touch was so gentle and I was hardly aware as they moved back up my body and eventually eased inside my knickers, accompanied by moans as his excitement grew."

"Were you excited?"

"I was hard, if that's what you mean. The constant caress of his hands aroused my basic instincts and I just lay back and revelled in the attention. I felt a tickling on my stomach and I wasn't sure what he was using, I kept my eyes firmly shut. Eventually it became so persistent I had to look. All I could see was the top of his head as he licked at me through my knickers, the tickling must have been his eyebrows. By now I wanted to be satisfied so I pleaded with him to give me satisfaction. His hands and tongue kept working away holding on the very edge and my desperation grew."

The reliving of these memories, so precious and yet so painful to both Maggie and Ian had played havoc with their joint emotions such that Maggie had to stop, close to tears. Never before had she admitted even to herself what had happened all those years ago. Rose quietly patted her hand; realising Maggie had to tell the story for her own peace of mind, to exorcise the secret memories. Slowly Maggie returned to her memories, describing how Reg. had played her to the edge of ecstasy and then teasingly had allowed her sensuality to abate. In desperation Ian/Maggie had arched her back and reached down to ease the knickers out of the way. Within seconds a crafty finger had slipped into his private crevice and as it stretched and excited this secret place it allowed other fingers to join it. As a reward for the co-operation a mouth engulfed his engorged manhood. The dual assault prevented any protest from the limp figure as a mass of new and exciting sensations filled his loins from all directions. Slowly spasms of ecstasy spread from the insistently manipulating fingers into the rock hard manhood, finally culminating in a screaming climax, filling Regis mouth to overflowing.

Both bodies slumped in satisfaction but they did not move. After only moments the fingers began the magic movements once again. Ian's deflated manhood flickered and then showed the effects of the crafty unseen manipulation. A teasing glow spread through Ian's body and Reg. caressed the body before with his free hand. At one well placed stroke Ian's body went rigid and Reg. knew know he could seek satisfaction for himself. He demanded a hand on himself and as he trapped it against the bedclothes he once again rewarded his young friend with the favour of his tongue, mouth and crafty fingers. Reg. worked hard as he sought his own relief whilst still retaining the ecstatic interest of the passive body. His own grunts of rising passion kept time with those from Ian as they rose to the heights of a joint climax.

Rose watched her friend closely. The conflict of the intense pleasure that had been felt with the self disgust and confusion was apparent in Maggie's exhausted features. She wondered whether this act of contrition was pushing her friend to the very edge. "You needn't go on. You don't even have to tell Nigel all this, tomorrow. It's tearing you apart. You only need tell him an edited version.."

"No, no. I want, need to get it out of the way. The memory has nagged at me all my life. I think I understand now but I need to say it out loud. Then I won't feel guilty anymore."

Rose sat at Maggie's feet having long since finished the final toe nail. The figure in the chair looked older and was close to total exhaustion. Her voice was barely above a whisper and Rose had to strain to hear the words.

Reg. had been keen to meet with Ian again. Despite the sexual excitement there had been something missing from the encounter for the Maggie within which Ian had not entirely understood. Twice more he had gone with Reg. to the tiny terraced cottage and each time the result had been exactly the same. Still there was something lacking for Maggie, who didn't yet have a true identity. Ruth had chosen to visit her mother when Ian had to remain at work. The sexual excitements of the visits to Reg. had intrigued Ian but there had to be something more so the decision was made. Now the visit would incorporate the small wardrobe he had accumulated and Ian resolved to grant Reg. his virginity, he felt certain that would provide the satisfaction he had not yet experienced.

The arrangements were made. Ian's collection of feminine attire was rescued from hiding places around the house and visit to the barber's ensured he had what he needed "for the weekend". Reg. was surprised when his young friend appeared with a holdall but was excited by the prospect of his desires being finally fulfilled.

At the terraced cottage they climbed the stairs together and the older man was invited to watch the preparations. Unusually the curtains were drawn in the untidy bedroom as Reg. sensed this was a special occasion and Ian, to meet an unrecognised inner call performed a striptease to cast off his masculinity in preparation for the great transformation. This nearly led to disaster before they had started as it inflamed Reg. to make overtures before Ian was ready.

The older man could hardly contain himself as he watched his young friend pull on bra, suspender belt and stockings and his patience was rewarded by being permitted to draw Ian's bikini briefs tightly over his thighs. Reg. sat, hugging himself with mounting excitement, as the dolly bird outfit, wit and shoes were donned. His pleasure reached fever pitch as make up was amateurishly applied and immediately all was complete he invited his "girlfriend" to visit a remote pub where he knew he could show off the youthful flesh he was so close to possessing. Such youth, such prettiness on his arm would undoubtedly raise his status immensely. Despite the prospect of fulfilling the dreams of the inner self Ian still remained cautious and would only agree to a short drive around the countryside. Ian's abject fear meant his first outing as a female was not as memorable as it might have been and Regis fervour for pleasures to come kept the drive to a mere twenty minutes. Whether they even saw another vehicle on their drive was a memory lost in the mists of time.

On their return Reg. insisted on entering into the spirit of the occasion by opening the car door on the return and before ascending the stairs they shared a drink in the kitchen. Both sensed the importance of the event. For Reg. it was the fulfilment of his fantasy, a young lover. He had spent too long fumbling unsatisfactorily in public toilet trawls. He hoped his young friend might become a more permanent feature though he was not keen on him wearing women's clothes. Though Reg was content to indulge his young friend if the frilly underwear persuaded him to grant the favours that Reg longed for. Reg. was wondering whether he could buy a jock strap as a present to hint where his own real interests lay and fleetingly imagined his young friend kneeling before him, his head seemingly attached to his own manhood.

The younger had already been inflamed by his own fantasies and plans for the evening. The churning confusion of the masculine and feminine within combined with the youthful sex drive brought to take the lead, there in the kitchen. Reaching into a pocket of the short skirt she pulled out a rubber and meaningfully ripped off its cover. Slowly and lasciviously she took the rubber between her heavily lipsticked lips and reached down to sensually unbutton his flies. Moments later his trousers lay around his ankles and not daring to look at his growing manhood gently caressed him.

The desperation and impatience of her frustration drove her on to slip the protection over his not yet rock hardness. Perhaps her disappointment at not having excited him to rampaging power showed in her face, who will ever know? Now she hungered after his manhood. She wanted a man and this man had wanted her so now she demanded her rights. Her rights to possess and in turn be possessed. In frustration she worked at his limpness with her hands and finally in complete desperation she dropped to her knees to take him tentatively in her mouth. Her lust drove her to a frenzy of licking, sucking, nipping and teasing at him, without any thought of what she was doing. There was only one objective and that was to bring it to the rock hardness needed to penetrate her. After working for not nearly long enough to overcome his inhibitions she stood. With a pert flick of her head she turned her back to him, lifted the hem of her already short skirt and slowly and meaningfully hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her tiny knickers. As they dropped so slowly she pointed her bum at him, revealing the contradiction of her exposed manhood.

Finally she could stand the frustration no longer and flung herself across the kitchen table, flicking the upwards skirt to flaunt the unmistakable invitation. She could feel her own rampant masculinity pressing hard against the wooden table leg. Now certainly he would enter her and fulfil her desires. She even screamed a plea to be table ended, so there could be no doubt about her needs. But nothing happened. There was only a silence from the direction of the longed for assault.

As she rose an embarrassed cough came from behind her and she turned to face Reg .Disappointment was written all over her young coquettish face. Reg. stood sadly his resolve to take his young lover softened by the very thing that excited her. Femininity.

Reg. might have explained what he had seen, the confusion of sex and gender. There was little doubt he had come to see his young friend as a woman hence his inability to perform. But he experienced the pain of disappointment as the young firm flesh was snatched so cruelly from him at the very moment of the fulfilment of his dreams. If he had taken a moment to explain, instead of silently driving a now reinstated Ian home, then perhaps Maggie and Ian might have been spared years of lonely confusion and torture.

  

CHAPTER NINE

 

The soft light of the standard lamp gently lit Maggie's heavily lined and tearful face. Now she had completed her self imposed act of confession and it had exhausted her. Rose, too was in tears, recognising the inner agony of her friend but now understanding the tortures her dear departed Ron must have experienced.

The nurse took over and led Maggie to her bedroom. There was no argument and Maggie was practically asleep before Rose had finished tucking her duvet into place. That night both Ian and Maggie slept the sleep of the dead with no nightmares or pleasurable dream fantasies intruding.

It was nine next morning before she awoke and was greeted by a fully dressed Rose bearing a cup of tea and a broad smile displaying a confidence she didn't feel inside.

"How are you this morning? It's a beautiful morning, how about another stroll around the park? Nigel isn't due until eleven; though I'm pleased to say he has a tendency to be early."

Despite her long and restful sleep Maggie was not yet fully awake and it took nearly the entire cup of tea before she was able to reply.

"I feel so stupid about last night. I made such a fool of myself. And whatever will you think about the things I've done?"

"Let's get this straight. I'm not your keeper but in your position perhaps I might have done the same. Who knows? If I had those memories then I'd feel perhaps ashamed, perhaps still confused but you've kept going all these years and now you're nearly there. How you've managed I can't imagine but there's only one thing I want to know. Now you've got the chance to be yourself, really yourself, are you going to grab the chance with both hands, whatever it costs? It's time to stop worrying about everyone else it's time to look after you. Are you going to come out as Maggie, or not?"

Maggie regarded her friend in amazement.

"And another thing. It's time you got up. You do want to make a good impression on Nigel, don't you?"

This time Rose added a smile of encouragement and left the room. Maggie gazed at herself in the mirror. Despite her good nights sleep the ageing lines of tiredness were still there. Each line was for a year of Maggie lost, she was certain. She reached for the cleanser and tried to eradicate the lines but she knew it was an impossible task, too many years had been lost. Sighing to her self she drew the bathrobe around herself and padded to the bathroom,

Though her dream did not return, as she had half hoped, the warmth of the bath eased her aching muscles and raised her spirits. By the time she had carefully dried herself she had become more purposeful in her actions. The constant practice of preparing to meet the day as Maggie made her clothes flow on and even the limited makeup was applied with hardly a thought. She was rapidly leaving Ian behind as a phase of her life she had had to endure. Scooping up her beloved leather coat she walked into the lounge, where she found Rose taking a momentary but well earned moment of relaxation.

Rose made a friendly face and fetched her own coat. This morning, Boxing Day, they didn't meet Sarah and on reflection Maggie was disappointed. As they sat for a few minutes on a bench in the park Rose gently enquired after Maggie's health.

"I'm tired but relieved. I'd never even really admitted to myself what had happened with Reg. It's funny I'd always been ashamed but because he didn't or couldn't I'd felt rejected, too. I'm glad I told you, it's made me feel better and I think I understand better. I was a silly reckless girl and now I have the rest of my life to be the real feminine me."

"You really are amazing, Maggie. You always seem to make the best of everything, don't you?"

As they strolled back to the flats Maggie felt a tingle of apprehension at the prospect of meeting Nigel. His decision would affect the rest of her life, allowing her to fulfil her dreams or denying them. She was surprised by the slim handsome male who stood chatting with Sarah at the entrance to the flats. Rose saw him and dashed forward almost sweeping Sarah aside. Maggie and Sarah exchanged hellos and both gazed with not a little jealousy as Nigel and Rose made up for their separation. Sarah glanced at Maggie and whispered, "Lucky, isn't she?"

As Maggie nodded in agreement she recognised the jealousy within her but also Sarah's acceptance and she decided it was no longer embarrassing to chat with other women. Other women? Yes, other women, she decided. That is what she had always felt. I'm a woman trapped in a wrongly sexed body. All my trials and tribulations are behind me, now. In four months, Ian will be gone and I'll be Maggie but in a way Maggie has been here always, helping out when things have been difficult. In the same way Ian will be there inside Maggie, returning the compliment.

Nigel was eventually introduced, once he and Rose had disentangled themselves. His initial inspection was not unfriendly but Maggie recognised the professional all seeing eye of a doctor. As they walked inside Nigel uttered a few words of encouragement to Maggie and to her amazement he immediately started the informal consultation even before they had settled themselves in the lounge.

It was all concluded within an hour. After her initial nervousness Maggie relaxed and his questions were more like an interested friend enquiring about this and that. Rose told her later that Nigel was considered to have a good beside manner but as she said this there was a wicked twinkle in her eye. Rose filled in the various details Nigel needed about Maggie's injuries and finally Nigel nodded and suggested a date for a medical, at the clinic. It seemed so far ahead, it had to wait until she had completed her convalescence but after so long what was another four months?

"Nigel saw her disappointment. "Use the coming months to get your body in shape, get your voice right, there are a thousand and one things. The more you prepare the easier the transition will be."

For the rest of the day Maggie was quiet and withdrawn. Partly she was disappointed at the time she had to wait and partly she felt and intruder into Nigel and Rose's love nest. It came as a surprise when they reappeared, entwined in each others arms late in the afternoon giggling like schoolchildren.

"Maggie we've got something to ask you. "smirked Rose, grinning at Nigel who in turn was grinning stupidly back at her.

"We've set a date. To get married. "

Maggie and Rose immediately shared kisses of congratulation and it was something of a surprise when an uninhibited Nigel threw his arms around Maggie to give and accept kisses. He smiled at her, "I'd better get used to kissing you, we want you to be Rose's maid of honour. It'll be the second Saturday in September. We put it back so you'll have a bit longer to get ready but as a consolation, for me, Rose is moving in with me next week. "

"Are you sure you want, me, Maggie?"

The rest of the evening passed with Rose and Maggie discussing everything that needed arranging for the wedding with Nigel looking on in the usual bemused male manner. Maggie lay in bed thinking and wondering about all that had happened and felt a pang of jealousy as she heard laughter and screams of passion coming from Rose's bedroom during the night.

The following morning she took pleasure in quietly preparing herself for the day, fully aware at noon she had to return to hospital and the confines of masculinity.

 

CHAPTER TEN

 

As she hunched in the wheelchair being pushed back into the dual prisons of hospital and the persona of Ian, Maggie felt the tides of despair wash over her. Despite the prospect of a release from her imprisonment the return to unwanted masculinity was no less painful than before. She felt ashamed as Rose busied herself trying to lift her spirits.

There was even a spell of sadness and mourning for the soon to be lost masculinity in the final weeks of the hospital stay. Ian moped around the ward, not caring and only showed any enthusiasm for life when it was made clear his release might be delayed because of his listlessness. Time dragged, teasing every day to an eternity as the time for his freedom to give himself up to Maggie approached.

The only moment of excitement during this time occurred when a nurse decided he was incapable of bathing himself and was shocked when she saw his brightly painted pink toenails appear from the bathwater. Even that was no big deal, for Ian. The nurse pressed him why the nail polish was there and the only reply she got was that he liked the shade. Yes, as he lay in bed he heard the gossip amongst the nurses but now without embarrassment. It was only an outrageous wink from Rose as she listened to the story being recounted once again by the nurse that brought a tinge of red to his cheeks.

Slowly, so slowly the great day approached. Finally, after six months in hospital and a lifetime trapped in a male body Maggie was now on the very edge of her life. This was her destiny, three months of preparation and the she could be herself, after a lifetime's wait.

The old man sat on the edge of the bed, waiting to be collected by his daughter.

THE END

(But really the beginning)

  

  

  

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