Starting With A Kiss

by Mardee Louise Prynne

 

Mother was seated at the dining room table with some important looking papers spread in front of her. She smiled at me with approval.

"Come give Mommy a kiss."

She turned her face to mine but remained seated. As I bent toward her I noticed that her skirt had risen above her knees. "Naughty, naughty peeking at Mommy like that." A playfully stinging slap on my butt as she kissed me.

"Shelby, I've been giving our situation some thought. There are going to be some changes but we can do it."

Mommy gestured at the papers spread over the table before picking up a legal pad covered with numbers.

"We can't stay in this neighborhood, not if you're going to make a full transition to living as a girl. There's no question in my mind that we can do it.

"The money I inherited from my parents and what I saved from my divorce settlement has appreciated enough for us to move to a part of town where you can begin living as a girl and where you would be accepted if anyone were to realize what you really are. You can finish school in a private school that understands girls like you.

"We'll talk more about this later. It's getting late and you have to be ready for your date. You shower and Mother will help her girl get ready."

A bath towel was around me like a pink fluffy sarong as I brushed my damp hair. Mother waited for me in my room. My wardrobe for the afternoon was arranged on my bedspread. Black panties that, except for their aggressively sexy color, were almost demure for lack of frills. A white mid-thigh panty girdle lay alongside the panties. I slipped into the panties before sitting down to slide the panty girdle over my thighs. I paused to adjust my male parts in my panties before tugging the top of the girdle into place. The effect was to give me almost totally femme body lines while allowing just a hint of what I concealed to add the erotic illusion I was becoming so adept at creating. That my black panties showed through the white girdle did nothing to lessen the sensual power of the being I was becoming.

A smooth white camisole covered my upper body. I hadn't realized until that moment that cotton could be so lustrous, so glistening.

"Sorry, Shelby doll. A bra would be so right but we still can't take any chances with you. Too many people around here are just so threatened by your special kind of attractiveness that they wouldn't hesitate to hurt you if you aroused them to much."

I nodded as I buttoned the man-tailored white shirt.

"Sweetie, leave the top two or three buttons open. We want the top of your cami to show when you move or bend forward."

I wasn't sure whether the knee length socks I wore were meant for a boy or for a girl. They were black, opaque, and silky. Black tailored slacks followed. They were perfect as were the mahogany penny loafers that completed my outfit.

"The advantage of how you're dressed is that it allows the slightest shift in posture or in the way you move to say whether you're a girl or a boy. Either way you look exquisite.

"Take your cue from your date as to how much femininity to project. Don't overdo it no matter how much he wants. Keep him hungry for more and he'll be putty in your hands."

"But, Mother, I don't want him in my hands. I want him at my feet."

I walked out onto the front porch just as Vinny pulled up in his '49 Mercury. He got of the car and walked around to the passenger door. I waved and smiled as I started down the walk.

Vinny opened the door and held it for me as he looked me up and down. His contemplative, almost solemn look puzzled me. Had I gone too far in my seductive girl/boy look or was it that I hadn't gone far enough?

Vinny started the car and put it into gear. He took a breath as I f he were about to speak but said nothing. It took quite a few minutes and several repetitions of this false start before he was able to speak.

"Shelby, you look great. I hope you're okay with this."

"Sure, Vin. We're going to the museum. What's not to be okay about?"

"I hope you weren't pissed...Sorry angry. Remember I said even when I was kid I liked sissy boys more than girls..."

I put my hand on his thigh and squeezed gently.

"It's okay, Vinny...Let me ask you. Today, right now; are we going to the museum as two guys or is it something else?"

"I dunno. Maybe you should just forget what I said yesterday. Okay?"

"I don't think you really want me to. It was pretty gutsy of you to open up to me and to ask me out...Sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you by sounding like this is a date. That is unless you want me to think of it that way."

"You mean you're okay with it?"

I looked around as we stopped at a light. No cars, no pedestrians close by. I put my hand on the left side of his face and turned it to me. I put my moist lips to his. My tongue darted against his lips.

"Does that answer your question?"

His eyes brightened but his overall affect was one of concern. He was going to have a difficult time defining his desires let alone acknowledging them and acting out on them what ever they might turn out too be.

My hand fell onto his lap. He let out the clutch as the light turned green.

Before Vinny could hold the door for me, I was out of the car and on the street. I bent forward to slide the leather portfolio that held my barrettes and earrings under the seat. This gave me an opportunity to flash the shimmering white camisole. Vinny stared down the front of my shirt until I made eye contact with him. He looked sheepish, like a little boy caught peeking under a girl's skirt as she climbed in the playground. I smoothed my slacks over my hips and folded my sleeves to mid forearm as Vinny got out of the car and moved to the sidewalk.

Vinny took notes as we ambled through the galleries that were pertinent to his art course. I enjoyed his quiet excitement of seeing what he was studying in his curses. He was, in some sense, recreating himself just as I was. I let my hand slide over his, extended my fingers into his palm. This flirtatious move must have appealed to him at some level because he reacted by stiffening each time. This told me that he was very aware of any coquettish moves on my part and that he was being overly defensive lest he react by holding my hand and not letting go. He wanted his wishes fulfilled but was afraid to take that first step in so public a setting.

"And I thought you liked sissy boys. I think we frighten you."

"I don't understand."

"Maybe you just better take me home. Let's forget dinner."

"Aw, come on. You don't really mean that, do you?"

"Let's see how it goes."

He didn't dare resist after that. He even made a move to take my hand as we walked down a deserted staircase.

"So now you want to take my hand. I guess you're ashamed to show affection to me when anyone's around."

"Shelby, how easy do you think it is for a guy like me to show affection at all, especially to another guy?"

"Guy! Do I really come on like a guy?"

"No, I guess not."

"You guess? You don't know, you just guess. Take me home now."

The poor dear was mine to use as I pleased from that moment until when ever I decided to turn him loose.

He said nothing until we were in the car.

"Shel, give me one more chance. This is so new to me. Please..."

"One more chance and that's it. But not today. You spoiled today. And do call me Shelby."

We were in our own neighborhood when I suggested that maybe having a pizza at my house might be okay. Mother had cleared her papers from the table and left a note saying she had gone over to Rivie's folks to visit for a couple of hours.

"What do you like on your pie?" asked Vinny as he reached for the phone.

"Anything but anchovies. And nothing that will give us bad breath."

He ordered a large plain. I took his hand, squeezed it, and kissed him lightly.

"Thanks for asking what I wanted. You really can be so sweet, so thoughtful."

"Shelby, I really did want to be more open with my feelings today. Honest, I'm scared. Like ever since I shot my first load I think about a boy having it off with a boy who can pass for a girl. Now when I'm lucky enough to meet someone like that, it's like I might fell all guilty after."

"Maybe I can take the guilt away for you. We can talk about it later. The pie's gonna be ready soon."

"Wanna take a walk around the corner to pick it up with me?"

"Not this time. There's gonna be a big surprise for you when you get back with the pie."

He started to leave.

"No good-bye kiss?"

My head was tilted coyly as a smile played at the edge of my mouth. I stepped toward Vinny, put my hand over his belt and pulled him to me. The kiss was deep. Vinny whimpered softly as I rubbed my lower belly against his groin.

"Hurry back."

As soon as he was out the door, I hurried to my room and stripped to my panties. "Shit," I said aloud as I saw that my panty girdle had left indentations in my skin. I hoped they would fade by the time I put my plan into action. The outline of my cockhead in the black nylon panties ought to hold his attention and keep from thinking too much about the marks left by my girdle.

After using the toilet I pinned my falsies into a powder blue bra and slipped into it. I found an oversized sweatshirt and pulled it over my head. The bottom edge was at mid thigh. Who would have guessed that Mary Quant was going to make a name selling skirts and dresses that length a decade later?

Then it was to my vanity table. I brushed my hair behind my ears and clipped it in place with barrettes. Thank goodness I practiced with makeup yesterday. I put on lipstick and blotted until only the barest trace remained. Eyeliner and shadow carefully and sparingly applied gave me a beguiling appeal that was all the more effective for being understated.

The full length mirror showed a sprite who could have been angelic or impish or even both at once. Poor Vinny wasn't going to resist risking that guilt he so feared. I clipped my earrings on, put some stockings under my pillow and went to answer the door bell.

Vinny almost dropped the pizza as he walked into the kitchen and saw me matter of factly putting out plates and napkins.

"Shelby, is that really you?"

"Who were you expecting?"

"You're gorgeous..."

"Save it. I don't like cold pizza."

I put a slice on each plate.

"Put that in the oven to keep warm. What kind of soda do you like? We got beer if you want?"

"What're you gonna have? That'll be fine with me."

We sat catty corner at the end of the kitchen table. I pushed my chair away from the table and rested my feet on the edge. Vinny stared at my thighs hoping to see under my sweat shirt.

"I'll get us another slice. You okay with the beer or do you want another one?"

"I'm okay for now."

I let my napkin fall to the floor and knelt to pick it up with my knees slightly open. He had to have seen my panty crotch.

I took the plates, put them on the stove, and bent to take the pizza from the oven. Too bad Vinny's face wasn't visible to me. His expression must have been priceless as my pantied tush was exposed to view.

"Eat up. We have half a pie left."

I pushed my chair in close to the table. Before sitting down I stuck my thumbs under the leg opening of my panties and adjusted them over my butt in that very functional, very provocative move that girls have used to great advantage over the years.

I sat down, folded my slice of pie, and took a small bite.

"My feet are so tired from all that walking at the museum. I hope you don't mind if I put them up."

I rested one foot on his lap. It fell between his thighs as I pressed my toes into his balls. My foot was deeper into his crotch as I massaged his dick with the ball of my foot.

"Something the matter? You're not eating....Finish this slice and we'll take a break from the pizza. Maybe I can surprise you with a really special something to eat."

He didn't hesitate as he was led into my bedroom.

"Shoes off and sit on my bed. Shirt off too."

I pulled the sweatshirt over my head and threw it aside.

"Don't touch me until I tell you to or I'll have to tie you up."

I dangled the nylon in front of this face.

"I'm in charge so anything that happens is my fault. I hope I don't have to tie you up with my stockings in order to keep you from feeling you're to blame for what's about to happen. Oh, better safe than sorry."

I tied his wrists to the headboard. I pulled his pants off and ran my hand over his balls. He yelped as I slapped them. In a matter of minutes his cock was straining against his white briefs.

I straddled his chest and kissed him on the throat, darted my tongues in and out of his ears.

"See, you have no choice but to let me have my way with you."

He nodded.

I kissed his nipples as I wrapped my fingers around his shaft. A bead of precum was oozing. My finger flicked it off.

"Mm, yummy," I said as I sucked my finger. "You try it"

He tasted the next drop of his own pre-cum from my finger.

"Not your first taste, is it?"

My bottom was close to face as I eased my panties off.

"Eat me," I cooed as I lowered my butt onto his mouth. His tongue probed my hole. He was enjoying it!

"Enough!" I ordered as I leaned forward pulling my bottom cleft away from his face as I did so.

I knelt between his legs and took his cockhead into my mouth. He was twisting, contorting his face and body as I licked the bottom of his shaft from head to base and back again. His cockhead was caught by my lips as I rubbed my fingers over the base. That raging hardon of his began to twitch. It was time to ease off. I grasped his balls and kissed him deeply. Then it was back to his cock. I swallowed as much of it as I could at that early stage in my sexual adventures. His back arched as he came.

"Now it's my turn to cum."

He eagerly licked my balls as I got ready to fuck his face. It was with savage ferocity that my cock pumped in out of his mouth. I pulled away for fear of cumming too soon. It was time to untie his hands. We were on our sides with my groin against his face, my cock in his mouth and my feet wrapped grasping his hard prick.

I was glad I had untied him as he put his hands on my bottom and guided me deep into his mouth. He gagged as he struggled to take my entire length into his virgin throat.

I began to screech as I worked my cock in and out of his eager mouth. Each time I pulled back leaving only the very tip between his lips, his hands against my bottom half guided, half forced me deeper again into his mouth.

I came wildly as those orgasmic sparks that build in every extremity tingled their way through me to my dick. The explosion was beyond bliss.

Vinny lay limp but vocal. "Thank you, thank you. Shelby, never leave me. That was so wonderful. Thank you, thank you..."

It was great ending to a great weekend. I felt even better about it when I came out of the shower and checked myself in the mirror and saw no hickeys. That would not have fit in with that wholesome all American girl image that Vera Racine wanted in her receptionist.

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I awakened early Monday morning. After a light breakfast I showered, slipped on a pair of basic white panties, jeans and a baby blue tee. Crew socks, saddle shoes and a tiny watch held to my wrist by a narrow black cord-type band. I took my valise, my makeup case with my handbag in it and caught an early subway to midtown.

Dr. Racine, true to her word, was in early. I couldn't say what I really expected but we started off in a businesslike way with me filling out some papers for my tax withholding and Dr. Racine showing me the appointment books, journals and cash receipts books I would look after.

The formalities over, Dr. Racine looked me over appraisingly. "Beautiful and with great potential to be a charmer and more. First we must do something with about your hair."

She beckoned me to follow her to a small bedroom at the rear of the suite. The door was ajar so that I could see a toilet, a stall shower, and a sink with built in vanity.

On the bed was a pair of shiny white, stretchy looking panties. It was cut so the leg bands would fall just an inch or two below where the leg opening of brief panties typical of the fifties would be. It occurred to me that this unfamiliar item of intimate apparel could serve as both panty and panty girdle. Next to this was a pair of dark blue cotton panties along with an even more abbreviated but very firm looking garment that I was to learn later was a gaffe. The bra, with built-in falsies matched the panty girdle. White slacks and a dark blue blouse were on hangers on the door of an armoire.

This wealth of new apparel was a major thrill that was compounded when I saw the shoes I was to wear. They were thong sandals; silvery with a two inch heel and straps that would wind around my ankles.

It was with unabashed naturalness that I stripped in front of Dr. Racine who nodded with more and more approval as each of my outer garments fell to the floor. I turned my back to her and coyly wiggled out of my panties before facing her.

"Formidable," she said using the French pronunciation.

She handed me that gaffe and watched me adjust it. Her nostrils twitched as I slowly, appreciatively donned all my underthings. Dressing in feminine intimates was a treat to be savored. The effect of the blue panties under the brief white girdle was to again call attention to that mysterious territory that held the truth as to my nature. The gaffe, my first, had given me a line that was more passable than any I had ever previously created. Was it more alluring? That remained to be seen in the eye of the beholder who must never be allowed to forget that this beautiful being creature he is begging to please, from whose hands he will willingly, even eagerly endure humiliation, is a boy.

I sat on the chair resting my foot on the seat in front of me as I tied my sandals. The crimson lacquer applied to my toe nails a few days before was still fresh, unmarred. Then it was onto the elevator and out to the street.

Dr. Racine introduced me to proprietress of the complete service salon before carrying on a running conversation in rapid and colloquial French. While they talked, we made our way up a flight of stairs to a series of small suites very much like private spas or salons.

They watched me strip to bra and panties before handing me terry cloth robe. Once again we were downstairs where I was seated and made told to lean backwards over a sink while my hair was shampooed and rinsed with conditioner. My hair was still wet as it was cut so carefully, so deliberately that I wondered how they could possibly know what the resulting style would be. A few clips, a hairnet, and then under the drier. While walking over to the drier I picked up a copy of Seventeen to read while my hair dried.

The experience was ever so sensual that I was thankful that my gaffe had been left in place. It would have been just unacceptable for an erect cock to jut out from the robe that was barely covering a very engaging pair of teen legs as the latest fashions for high school and college girls. Unacceptable, yes but think of how tantalizing it would have been to more men and women than dared admit they were attracted by such things.

After a manicure which left my never short nails well shaped and coral, I was taken back to the private area upstairs where I enjoyed my first professional pedicure. As I lay back, I began to worry. How would I get home without being jumped if my nails were polished a very noticeable coral? The polish would be removed by the end of the day! That had to be the solution.

An unfamiliar woman took over after the pedicure was dry. I stood on a low platform while she called out each of my measurements, measurements and proportions I had never dreamed would be wanted. A young assistant sat nearby dutifully recording every number in a steno pad. The assistant was like me in that her slight but figure and very young image left some uncertainty as to whether she was truly a girl. That question puzzles me whenever I think back to that day because I never saw her again.

It was late morning when I returned to Dr. Racine's office where I removed my very sporty outfit along with the brief panty girdle. The blue panties were traded for pink nylon that was only loosely fitted. The soft nylon conformed to my gaffe created intimate curvature. White opaque stockings with a finish so dull as to make them uninteresting to any observer were attached to a garter belt so wide in front that it might be a very narrow open bottom girdle. I sighed as I glanced at my discarded sandals that were replaced with very sensible white tie oxfords. A cotton slip and then into my nurse like uniform.

Dr. Racine informed me that she had been at a conference after she had left me at the salon and that her first patient was due in half an hour. I took up my post at the reception desk and began typing from notes Dr. Racine had left.

The arrival of the first patient was a disappointment for me. I had no reason to expect, that other than performing as a girl, this job would be exciting or glamorous. This dull accountant type patient couldn't even keep eye contact with me; not that I particularly cared for keeping eye contact such dullards.

Mother and I had lunch together in a busy but upscale place that offered soups and salads to calorie conscious career women.

"You're nails look great!"

"That may be a problem, Mother."

"You'll get used to doing everyday tasks without chipping the polish."

"Mother! This is serious. How do I go home from work unless I take of this polish? I've pushed it pretty far in the neighborhood but there's a point at which I'll get killed or worse."

"I know. It that it's just so exciting to see my little girl's hands looking so grownup. Someone from the salon will stop by Dr. Racine's and help you remove the polish and replace it with clear. The clear will stay on until we can make some arrangements for you..."

"Arrangements? You're making arrangements for me? That is really too, too much. Mother, I'm really old enough to be in on any plans you or Dr. Racine have for me."

"I'm sorry, sweetie. There really isn't that much to share right now."

"Right now? You mean that it's going to all come out as we go along. Only I'm not going to know anything until it's too late for me to have a say in it. That's not the way it's going to be."

My tone made it clear that the topic was closed and would remain closed until I was allowed to participate in planning just how and how quickly I was going to be transformed into a full time girl. There was no way on God's earth that I would allow anyone to control my destiny.

I should have felt agitated but I was quite calm as I returned to the office. Self-assertion can be a wonderful mood enhancer.

"Shelby, you're going to work out fine. "I'll be staying in the office after you leave but be sure you get a set of keys to the office."

The afternoon flew by as I made appointments by phone, greeted patients, and updated records. It was almost quitting time and no one had yet come from the salon to teach me to remove the very sexy but very inappropriate nail polish, at least in appropriate for the boy I would have to be once back in my neighborhood.

Dr. Racine handed me the keys while she was on her direct phone line. She covered the mouthpiece and, in a breathy whisper, suggested I shower before catching the subway home. To my relief she added, "Nail polish remover and cotton balls are in the bathroom vanity."

My girl clothes remained in that funny little bedroom at the office while I caught a late subway.

Mother was aloof when I got home. It had to be about the spat at lunch. She finally offered some communication.

"I stopped at the store and got some cold fish dishes for dinner; some borscht, too. ( Borscht = a beet soup favored among Russians, Poles,& Jews of those countries. It can be eaten hot or cold.) Too hot to cook."

Was Mother being conciliatory or manipulative? Either way, she managed to look casually seductive without looking deliberately sexy; she had unbuttoned the front of her skirt and removed her slip to keep cool. Either vanity or sensuality had prompted her to leave her stockings on. As she sat reading the afternoon paper, her open skirt exposed an expanse of leg and thigh sufficient to expose her stocking tops and a bit of panty at the vee of her thighs. I should have been pretty worn out by my sexual adventures of the weekend but seeing Mother like that and knowing how excited I was over making love to her caused fresh quivers in my very ready dick.

"Shelby, darling. Please listen to Mother. Do forgive me for not being open with you at lunch. You see I had wanted to surprise you but it's not worth the price of hostility between us. Give me a chance to explain."

I nodded and sat down at her feet.

"Do you remember at the salon there was someone who took all sorts of measurements of you? You see, love, Mother wants to have several patterns made to your specific contours so you can choose a custom wardrobe. She'll have some ensembles ready for you to try on before the end of the week. Darling, there a tons of girls your age and very fashionable ladies too who would give their eye teeth to have Madame Frances as their dressmaker."

"Mother, I feel so silly..."

Her legs parted as she guided my head between her thighs. Her woman's scent was tangy as it reached my nostrils. My tongue worked its way under the leg band at her crotch. Mother pushed my head away, and adjusted her panties to fully cover her moistening cunt.

"My naughty girl can't taste Mommy until I'm sure she is very, very contrite. Take of your slacks."

After doing so I was on my hands and knees as Mother took off her shoe and paddled my tush half seriously, half playfully. The lovingly administered spanking aroused me. Again, she pulled my face to her sopping panty crotch where I tasted her juice from the silken garment.

"Mother, please let me have a real taste. I promise to be a good girl."

She moaned and came as I ate her naked cunt.

"Mommy's little girl is learning well. Ugh, I feel so wet."

I kissed her juices from her labia, from her thighs. Her thighs suddenly locked around my head as she slid to the floor. She rolled onto her side sending me tumbling over to avoid a very sore neck. Mother had me trapped in a classic head scissors.

"Shelby, show Mother how well you jack-off."

To my surprise Mother coached me on prolonging the time it took me to make myself cum; and cum I did, with great force and with great satisfaction. It was the longest, most intense jack-off orgasm I had ever had.

"You see, lovey, you were jerking off like a boy. Boys are always in a great hurry to cum but girls know how to make their pleasure last. It's a Mommy's duty to teach her little girl how to enjoy all the perquisites of womanhood.

"And darling, one more thing. Make your lovers satisfy you but make them beg for release.

"Now that's enough punishment for today."

This was punishment I could easily tolerate. I just wondered how Mother had become so adept in these matters.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The rest of the week was pretty routine, if you can call arriving early, doing my make up and hair and then dressing to spend the day as a receptionist routine for a boy finishing his junior year of high school.

I no longer felt I was a boy in any real sense of the word except for my very functional, very enjoyable male apparatus. It wasn't that I was becoming a girl although I was getting very, very adept in passing as one. This fully passable state while holding a summer job that was so ordinary for a real girl was more fulfilling than any male role could ever be for me.

Toward the end of the week Dr. Racine suggested that I no longer wear the white uniform every day. My new wardrobe would be so much more attractive, so much less sterile than the white uniform. She also suggested that dance lessons would enhance my already naturally femme movements as well as give my hips, tush and legs a more definitively female look. This, she thought would be so valuable to me, that she was going to treat me to the lessons.

After lunch, I took the note she had given me to a dance outfitters in Chelsea. I all but came as we selected tights, leotards, ballet slipper, little wrap skirts for my dance wardrobe. The woman, who also ran a school of dance, explained I was to study both ballet and modern dance. My first class was to be that coming Monday after work.

It was a thrill to model the black leotards, so drab and full cut by today's standards. I had never seen a dance belt but it would serve to give me support while flattening my male equipment. Although difficult to get on correctly but I found that seamed, full fashioned tights were so much more enhancing than the plain ones. At first I was so careful to keep my panties from showing through my tights below my leotard. How wrong I was became obvious when I glanced over my shoulder at the reflection of my seam enhanced thighs and just a smidgen of panty calling attention to my small but very perky tush.

Friday morning Dr. Racine announced that I was ready to handle more specific, more confidential duties. She explained to me that there are men and women whose needs or as part of their therapeutic redevelopment, must spend time with session wrestlers. These were attractive women who, despite being very feminine in face and form, were expert wrestlers or boxers and who were very well paid to defeat their clients. Some pursued this calling on a full time basis while others were ordinary working women who supplemented their income as session girls and often got off on what they did.

I was given access to the locked file cabinet that held the records of patients whose needs were so helped. The cabinet also had the names and descriptions of the session wrestlers as well as dominatrixes to whom Dr. Racine referred her patients.

It didn't take Nancy Drew to figure it out. Mother was on the list of session girls! That's how we lived so comfortably on her clerk's salary. The extras we enjoyed came form this late nights out with 'friends.' I began to suspect that I was going to be trained to be one of Dr. Racine's very special therapists. Despite my being a trannie, or because of it, I somehow knew I was going to be groomed to provide some very particular services.

Smugness was my first reaction and then I wanted to protest against becoming part of this scene. My need was to seduce man into becoming my unwilling toys, to exploit them and then to throw them away like the trash they are. After wondering when and how to lodge this protest, it dawned I would be tossing aside all kinds of opportunities. I had already been measured for a custom wardrobe and was starting dance classes at Dr. Racine's expense. Then, too, if a pip-squeak sissy was going to be transformed into an amazon fighter, there would have to be some strength training and a lot more instruction in fighting than I was getting from those books I had sent away for. Besides, there was no reason I couldn't earn some money as a session girl and apply my skills in my private life. I was definitely going to stick it out.

On Friday morning a delivery of several dresses arrived. Dr. Racine left for the weekend at noon. I was to stay and try on the dresses that were ready. It would be like a private fashion show featuring me and for me. Talk about a narcissistic turn-on!

The dressmaker introduced herself to me as Madame Frances although she had no French accent. "You can call me Frannie. We Brooklyn dames have so much in common that we really should be on the up and up with each other. That Madame stuff is for my regular clients. Since you're going to be working with the Doc, you and I are going to get on famously."

In response to a simple nod from Frannie I stripped to my panty girdle, bra and stockings.

"Gaffe?" It took a second to click.

"Oh, sure," I said perkily. "Always wear one at work."

"Keep going right down to your panties and gaffe. Better still, get rid of the gaffe and put your panties back on."

Frannie sure was direct when she had to be.

"This is'll feel a little uncomfortable at flirts but you'll get used to it. Pretty soon you'll wear something like this most of the time."

'This' was a black, very sexy looking contrivance that combine bra, waist cincher and open bottom girdle in one. The gossamer cups were embellished by a narrow pink ribbon that laced its way around the edges. The torso and bottom were made of alternating panels of elastic and a more silky midnight fabric. Garters hung from the picoted lower edge.

Like my first experience with a bra or learning to roll stockings into a donut before donning them, getting into this new foundation took some thought. The tiny waist and flat tummy it gave me was more than worth the effort.

The sheer black stockings were so perfect a complement to the all-in-one Merry Widow that I just had to tell Frannie it was a sin to hide such splendid loveliness under a dress.

Frannie now helped me into my very first petticoat. It was as if a sea of blinding whiteness had surrounded me. Black patent tee strap heels followed. Each new piece of clothing was enhancing the image of sensuality beyond belief and yet the mirror confirmed what I read on Frannie's face. The being I was becoming was both sprite and goddess.

The dress was a strapless brocade silk with a sash that emphasized my tiny waist. A matching stole completed the ensemble.

Frannie motioned for me to turn slowly.

"Turn a little more quickly. A flash of petticoat as your skirt flares out adds to the effect. And with legs like yours you need never fear that showing a tiny bit more than is proper would ever work against you. Just remember that it's a 'tiny' bit."

She began to adjust my skirt over the petti.

"Shelby, you're so gorgeous that I can't work with you until..."

Her hands were on the side of my face as we kissed.

"That dress is going to have to be re-ironed. The hell with it."

She had moved behind me and in flash had raised my skirt and petti over my hips so that her groin was against my bottom cleavage. In a moment my dress was around my ankles. Frannie eased me to the floor and again began kissing me as her hand groped under my pettis.

"No, don't stop," I protested as she got to he feet. Her dress was off in a wink. Her slip fell to the floor as I arched my hips from the floor and slid out of my frothy petticoat.

Frannie was exquisite as I looked up at her. Superb legs in heels and hose. Firm thighs but not so firm that they didn't swell ever so slightly over the dark stocking tops. Her lavender nylon panties were not so opaque that they totally obscured her garter belt. Then, as her arousal became more manifest, I knew what she meant when she said we have so much in common. Frannie's cock was hardening in her panties!

My arousal was indefinably, unbearably intense. I wrapped my arms around Frannie's knees and brought her to the floor. My hand yanked her panties down as she fell. Her cockhead was in my mouth as she hit the floor.

Frannie struggled, but not to escape my lapping tongue. She worked us into the classic sixty-nine position. I was incoherently begging her to stop as my unbridled response to her mouth rendered me unable to eat her as I wanted to. Each time I though I was about to cum she managed to lessen her ministrations and then brought me to even more intense levels of passion. Ordinary existence ceased as I was flooded by ever more reckless surges of stimulation. I perceived nothing but Frannie's wet mouth and nimble tongue sending shivers through every fiber of my body. Her fingers wrapped around the base of my scrotum in a way that isolated my balls and prevented me from cumming while not reducing my arousal by one iota. My entire shaft was in her mouth as she released my balls and instantly squeezed them. I understood the meaning of petite morte, little death, the French term for orgasm as the climax spread in huge waves from the tips of my toes and fingers to my pulsing cock.

I lay exhausted in the sensational aftermath of that orgasm that was not simply physical but mystical in its power to lift me out the ordinary. My head was on Frannie's lap as my mouth sought her cock. She was hard again in seconds. Again she avoided my greedy mouth as she eased me onto my back, pushed my legs onto her shoulders. The head of her cock, moist with my own saliva was against my bottom hole!

That was too much! I put my hand under her chin and shoved hard driving Frannie off me and onto her back. I instinctively understood that anal intercourse was the defining act for most gays but I wanted it to be with someone special and in a romantic setting.

"Ungrateful little snot! How dare you refuse me?"

She was on top of me with her fingers in my hair.

"Not ungrateful, you old sow! Just not grateful to you. You're getting paid enough for all these rags. Just copies. Not a damn original design, not even an original thought."

She was in a rage which was what I wanted. I cupped my hands and clapped them over her ears. Frannie screeched and fell backwards as I suddenly raised my hips and bucked her off . After getting to my feet, I immediately knee dropped into the pit of her belly. The older trannie was gasping and in tears as I caught her hair and dragged her to her knees.

"Please, not my face, anywhere but my face."

She collapsed to the floor in a self-pitying heap.

"Don't be even more ridiculous than you already are. I'm not going to hit you.

"God, you look a fright. I should send you out like that, with the mascara all streaked under your eyes. Just wash your face and redo it. Then take these rags and get out of here. I wouldn't even wear your stuff to a Halloween party. I mean it. Now get moving."

The great Madame Frances sat sobbing softly. After getting some modicum of control and dignity, she took her pocketbook and started toward the bathroom.

"Please give me a chance. If Dr. Racine hears about this I'm done for. Too many real women are no longer interested in me. Oh, they needed me just after the war when couturier fashions were hard to come by. Dr. Racine was even going to think about letting me make some her custom lingerie and foundation designs; my last chance at regaining what I was..."

"Should've thought about it before you tried to rape me."

"That's such an ugly word."

"It fits."

"It's just that you're so incredibly beautiful I got carried away. I wanted to ask you but I'm so afraid that no one wants me anymore...I'm so old and so ugly."

She started to cry again as she made her way to the bathroom. She was wrong about being ugly. As for old, she couldn't have been much over thirty-five, if that. Madame Frances was totally passable and elegantly beautiful but so very frightened of growing old and alone. That didn't excuse what she had tried to do to me.

I wiped off my smeared makeup and slipped on my uniform just in time to answer the phone. Dr. Racine was calling to find out how the fitting went. I was truthful but nervous over what her reaction might be to my beating up Frannie and ordering her to get her 'rags' out of the office.

"Shelby, you did well. That woman has to hit rock bottom before she realizes that changes have to be made. Put her on."

Dr. Racine must have given her a combination dressing down and pep talk judging by the sheepish expression that spread over her face during the brief phone conversation. Frannie agreed to get everything out of the office within the hour. Dr. Racine was going to see her early Monday morning.

"Shelby, I can't tell you how sorry I am over what happened but I have to thank you for the way you handled the whole thing. I realize now that I've become a bitchy old queen. You've made me see that I could really have hurt someone and maybe even gotten myself beaten to death. Thank you for setting me straight and for not hitting me."

After a long pause, Frannie drew a deep breath. She had mustered enough courage to risk rejection in saying what she did.

"Shelby, let's try to be friends. Don't say no, at least not yet."

She leaned over the desk and kissed me lightly on the cheek.

"Come here," I responded and kissed her gently on the lips.

A short time later two men arrived at the office, put the dresses on a rack and took them out.

Frannie left, barely able to hold back her tears but looking almost radiant leaving to finish the work. Dr. Racine had given me. I was to become familiar with the names and styles of each of the session ladies in her files. That was enjoyable enough. It was even more amusing when I discovered that Rivie was one of them!

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

I telephoned Alexandra as soon as I got home. She still had a few exams to study for and then had to try on a dress for the graduation dinner her family planned for her. We decided to meet at the playground the next morning.

The evening was spent chatting with Mother and. later, catching up on my diary. It was deep and restful sleep that I enjoyed that night.

After breakfast I dressed so differently from the very fashionable, very sophisticated style I had worn when Frannie and I shared that spontaneous sex session. Yellow cotton panties under powder blue abbreviated shorts. As much as wanted to wear a bra that morning, I still didn't dare to my own neighborhood. a cross between a cami and an undershirt had to do under my jewel neck navy tee. White ankle socks and Keds were satisfyingly femme and just right for a kid about to finish high school. It wasn't nearly as glamorous as the ensemble I tried on yesterday afternoon. But then again, that ensemble almost got me fucked, literally and truly fucked.

Alexandra sat atop the back of a bench. She waved to me as I approached wondering how much, if anything, of yesterday's events I should tell her. She saved me the trouble of coming to a decision as she fairly bubbled over with excitement.

"Here, take my cigarettes. I've quit. Really got increase my wind."

"But you've got incredible stamina and all that. You're up to something."

"Promise not to tell. I volunteered for the Marines, signed up yesterday but I'm not leaving until September. I want to work and save a few bucks before I go in. Sounds dumb to you but it's a chance for me to get away from my family and maybe see a little of the world. I'm smart but nobody around here gives me any credit for it just 'cause I took a secretarial studies program in school. You know I aced all my French classes. Those snotty bitches hated me for it just 'cause I beat them out for the prizes that they wanted for their stupid college applications.

"Sorry for going on about my stuff but I'm so excited. How did your job go?"

I filled her in on Madame Frances without going into the rape attempt.

"Shelby, you're too much. I'm beginning to believe there's a whole secret world of girls like you in this town. It'll be so great if you can make a place for yourself; I mean the self you really are and not what the stupid rules want you to be. You know I kind of love you."

She looked sad as she took my hand and pressed it gently. It was then that I understood why she had joined the Marines. She was hoping to find a place for her real self just as I was.

"Love you back." It sounded unconvincing. "I just know with all your smarts, you're going to really go far in the Marines. And I promise I'll write even if you don't."

We decided to go to the local Chinese that night. I was as femme as I dared to be in tight fitting Levis over red stretchy nylon panties with a tiny lace inset at the leg opening of one side. A man-tailored dress shirt was left unbuttoned down to mid chest to reveal a tank top of a brighter more sparkling white than one usually sees on a boy.

I was absolutely stunned by Alexandra when we met me at the foot of our front walk. She wore a blue shirt waist dress over a white petti. Her naturally blond hair was pulled back by wide head band of the same material as the dress. Both matched her blue eyes without having their intense inner brightness. Stockings in a light blue tint set off her lovely limbs and left me wondering whether her panties were blue to match her dress and hose or white to match her snowy pettis. A small birthstone ring called attention to her elegant hands. Her nails had been manicured. Sandy the tomboy was able to transform herself into Alexandra, a young lady as elegantly glamorous as any simpering frilly little snob.

It was a transformation worthy of a movie with Doris Day or someone like that playing an ugly duckling tomboy who, after going unnoticed by the hero, transforms herself into a beautiful swan and becomes the belle of the ball. The big difference was that Alexandra had no interest in being swept of her feet by any hero type guy. She had no interest in any real he man type, For this beauty, it was either another girl or someone like me. Not exactly a Doris Day role by any stretch of the imagination.

It was after the dinner crowd had left that we found ourselves in a an out of the way booth at the back corner of the dimly lit restaurant.

"Can I come up your house after we finish eating and go for a walk?"

"Sure, Alexandra. Want to watch television?"

"Shelby, you're incredible. Why would I get dressed like this and have my sister do my nails to watch television? You're the only TV I care to watch."

Can you believe I was so naive that I didn't know TV stood for transvestite?

"Shelby, I can't ask you to be around for me when I come back, That would be too selfish. Just promise me that you'll think about me once in a while."

I nodded.

We took the long way back to my house. We held hands as we looked in shop windows. Alexandra teased me about who would look sexier in the foundations and lingerie displayed in a ladies specialty shop.

I thought of how Alexandra would look in some of the soft, girlish pieces of gossamer, of how her superb figure would be enhanced by the waist cinch garter belts, of her firm breasts would be pushed up and together by the new low cut bras. My cock began to strain against my panties as I wondered how the more restraining girdles and all-in-ones, how the padded bras would feel against my body.

As we turned onto a side street, Alexandra slipped her arm around my waist. It took no urging for me to do the same. My fingers rested on her waist and slipped down to where I could feel the swell of her hips under the firm fabric of her garter belt. Her hand drifted down the small of my back until her finger tips were rested on the cleft of my bottom. This was tender yet so very seductive. At that moment I would have done anything to satisfy Alexandra.

A few minutes later I introduced Mother to Alexandra. They got on famously from the first second they met. I wondered whether I had mistake in letting Mother and Alexandra meet like that. Had I reason to be jealous?

Mother announced that she was going to shower and then read in bed. After assuring us that we wouldn't disturb her even if she fell asleep, she kissed us each goodnight. Did I detect a bit of tongue when she and Alexandra kissed goodnight?

We finally made our way to my room where Alexandra grabbed my shirt and pulled me against her. The kiss was desperate, intense. It was as if we both were suffocating and this was our first gasp of fresh air in hours.

I don't know how it happened but I was standing in front of Alexandra in only my red panties and white undervest. She smiled as she stepped back and took my nipples between her finger tips.

"I don't believe this! I just don't believe this."

With that said Alexandra shoved me backwards so that I landed seated on my bed.

She stepped out of her dress and lowered her pettis to the floor.

Now I knew what she didn't believe. Like me, she wore red panties. Instead of a cami-like under vest, she wore snow white low cut bra. I envied her and longed for the not very far off day when I too could wear bars with impunity. Her blue tinted hose were stretched over her legs and thighs by a white garter belt concealed under her panties.

Alexandra raised me to my feet and, to my surprise, pulled back the bed spread. The she sat down on the edge of the cool sheets and motioned for me to sit next to her. The next kiss was deep, slow and soft. It lasted as we found our selves sitting like the couple in Rodin's great statue, The Kiss. I lay back on the bed as Alexandra straddled me and ran her finger tips over my features, kissed my eyelids, my neck, my nipples. This slow, relaxing love making was getting me harder than all the last I had experienced with Mother, with Vinny, even with Francine. This was more than sex, it was love making, love making enhanced by caring. (Ron's silly fumbling no longer counted in any equation yet afterwards I recalled that first thrill when I made him cum in the library, when I began to realize my power.)

Now it was my turn as my tongue found every nook and cranny of Alexandra's body. The taste of her wetness was like sipping the finest wine ever.

She got up and went to the bathroom. A flush, the sound of her washing her hands. She returned carrying a towel. After spreading the towel over the middle of the bed, she opened her pocket book and took out two condoms.

"Please," she said so sincerely, as she guided first one and then the other over my cock. "We need two this time. Just this once"

She lay back in the classic missionary position and guided my prick the slightest bit into her. I felt the resistance of what had to be her cherry. She kissed me as she cupped her hands on my tush. Her hips rose sharply as she pulled me into her. A quick screech, a deep breath; she was no longer a virgin.

We fucked many times that evening. It wasn't wild sex but it was great lovemaking; so pure, so satisfying so memorable.

I walked Alexandra home where she kissed me goodnight in the vestibule of her house. As I turned to leave she took my hand.

"Shelby, promise we can do that again before I go away. Only one thing, please...Wear stockings and a bra."

"Makeup too?"

"Oh, God, yes. You're getting me all horny again just saying it."

A peck on the lips and I headed home.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

"Shelby, love, once we move we're going to start going to breakfast on Sunday. You've got to be seen in all the kinds of places."

"Really, Mother. This is fine with me. It's really our only time together. Is being seen the same as being put on display?"

"Don't put it so crassly. Oh, don't make any plans for Thursday afternoon. The bank is open until five and I want to get your signature on the safety deposit box account. There are important family papers in there as well as an awful lot of cash."

"Money from sessions?"

"You do learn so quickly."

After breakfast I took out the Manhattan classified and regular phone books. I found a listing for "Madame Frances, Ladies Custom Couturier." The display ad said she accommodated all needs. How true. I made a mental note of the location of her shop and then tried to remember if I had seen any reference to her surname. I remembered a check payable to Frances Rose. I found no white pages listing for a Frances Rose nor for an F. Rose. (Even back then women living alone often had the listing only under their first initial to avoid annoyance calls.) I found an F. Rosen listed with an address a few blocks from Madame Frances's shop. I dialed the number. No answer.

Half an hour later and two attempts later she picked up.

"Frannie, this is Shelby. How would you like to treat me to lunch?"

I showered and brushed my hair into side swept bangs. Band leg white nylon panties, white cotton cami. Black slacks that were just a tad too tight across my bottom. How better to show panty lines? A blue cotton shirt with sleeves folded to the top of the forearm. Penny loafers but no socks. A small watch with a narrow gold band highlighted my wrist.

"Mother, may I borrow one of your rings?"

I stowed my wallet, lipstick, compact, keys and a pair of earrings in a small leather case that could have been a portfolio or a conservative but stylish purse.

Frannie looked refreshed but tense. I'm sure she didn't know what to make of my offer to allow her to take me to lunch. Her ensemble was attractive but sensible. An off the shoulder dress showed enough décolletage to convince anyone that this was a very well put together woman. Her skirted flared and rustled in the breeze in a way that was demure yet teasingly revealed the edge of her petti. Her classic features were shaded and framed by a large hat with a scarf that matched her dress serving as a hat band. Her smile was sincerely warm but her wave had just an iota of hesitation, of uncertainty.

Soon after we were seated in the tree shaded back garden of a small restaurant I clipped my earrings on and dabbed so little lipstick on that only a sophisticated woman would realize that I wore any. A glance in my compact mirror showed my transition to a girl for the afternoon had been successful. That I had made the real transition so quickly and so simply in front of Frannie was an added advantage. She looked at me with the awe and adoration with which one regards a holy icon or a diva.

I reached across the table and rested my finger tips on her wrist.

"We're not going to talk about what happened on Friday. We were both so very drawn to each other from the first. Let's just try to revive those feelings."

Frannie leaned back in her chair and nodded. "Yes, but do let me show that I value you, that I respect you, and...."

"Just leave it at that."

We walked for a long time after lunch. I had to admit to myself that I had some real feelings for Frannie. Her submissiveness to me was a big part of what I wanted from my lovers. Her cock wasn't any kind of a turn-off either.

Frannie offered to pay for a taxi to take me home. I refused but allowed her to walk me to the subway station where we chatted. She inched closer to me in hopes that I might allow her a goodbye kiss. I took her hand in mine, kissed her palm and then headed down the stairs.

I removed my earrings and wiped off what was left of my lipstick while waiting for the train.

Of all people in the neighborhood, it had to be Ron who happened by as I exited my station.

"Shelby, hi! See I remembered what you want to be called."

"It's my name."

"Yeah. Look, I want to start it off right with you. I really haven't felt right about that thing at the movies. Can't we start all over like nothing happened?"

"And were you going to phone me, ask to meet and talk it out? Maybe this is just another spur of the moment try to get on my good side so you set me up again."

"Come on, Shelby. It's not like that at all. Don't I deserve another chance?"

"No. Now get lost before I get angry."

"Okay. I'm going but I really am sorry."

He sounded close to tears. I really would have loved to beat him up on the spot but that was probably what he needed most to assuage his guilt.

"Shelby, you just don't understand how hard it is for a guy to wake up to the idea that he wants a dick more than he wants a pussy."

"Don't I? Think about all the shit I've had to put up with since I was little. And you expect sympathy from me after the way you set me up! You disgust me."

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

I packed my dance gear and makeup for my first dance class scheduled for that evening and headed to work early the next morning. I was hoping to get in very early, hoping to explain to Dr. Racine that seeing Frannie on Sunday was an impulse and not meant to sabotage her therapy. Frannie was already in Dr. Racine's inner office when I arrived. My explanation would have to wait.

After dressing and doing my face, I went my desk and typed out a list of today's appointments along with a schedule of deadlines that would fall due that week.

The intercom buzzed.

"Good morning, Shelby. Please give Miss Rosen an appointment for next week and wave her fee."

Frannie stopped at my desk on her way out. I smiled at her and greeted her warmly. I made an appointment for her as I would have for any patient but we knew it wasn't going to end there.

"Thanks for lunch yesterday. It was really nice being with you."

"My pleasure. It was really important to me. See you soon."

It was more a question than a statement and it referred to much more than her next office visit.

I took a deep breath as I tapped on Dr. Racine's consulting room door.

"Sit down," she commanded as she sipped her coffee.

"I'm sorry about yesterday."

"Don't be. I don't think she would ever have forgiven herself for that attempted rape if you hadn't gotten in touch with her. That's not why I called you in."

Dr. Racine got up from he chair and sat on the edge of her desk. She crossed one leg over the other at the knee and continued speaking. I wanted to keep eye contact but couldn't help glancing at the back of her thigh which had become exposed as she slid slightly forward on the desk top.

"You may have wondered why I hired a temporary office girl rather than a regular long term secretary. First of all, girls like you are hard to come by. Second is that I'm closing down my practice and going to teach at a college in New England. It's a small down but within easy distance of Boston. It's an unusual place in that both the college and the locals accept all sexualities. You wouldn't be out of place there. But that's not to the present point.

"Your mother has not only been one of my best session ladies but she has helped me organize and operate that aspect of my business. When she told me about you and I had to see for myself whether you had the enormous beauty and potential that your mother claimed for you. She didn't exaggerate in the least. If anything she understated your magnificence and your anger. That anger, when harnessed and directed, will make you a dreadfully overwhelming force among dominant ladies. How much more so because of the special kind of girl you are.

"You'll be trained to master every attribute desirable in a domme. You're going to have the best college education to make you a literate conversationalist, a charming escort. Needless to say all the skills expected of a domme will be honed to perfection.
"This is all under one very important condition."

She paused.
"What's that condition?"

"This must suit you. It must be something you want."

I nodded agreement.

"In any case, you and your mother will have complete charge of the session service. It will be yours as will the entire proceeds."

Her skirt climbed even further along her legs as, still seated on the desk, turned to the side and got up. She reached for an artist's portfolio that was leaning against the side of her desk.

"Frannie Rosen brought these in this morning. She worked them all last night."

I gasped as Dr. Racine held up a sketch pad covered with pastel drawings. They were bizarre yet beautifully libidinous. The erotic appeal of the subject was undeniable. It was as if the very essence of a siren had been captured with chalk and paper. Some were totally nude while others were partially clad in lingerie or foundations. The model was reposing in some, actively moving in others. The elfin face, the almost non-existent breasts, the half erect cock combined to give the drawings a unique force that would appeal to anyone who had in away broken the shackles of puritan repression. The aesthetic and ethereal qualities gave the drawings a legitimacy that might carry them into the world of legitimate, avant-garde art. My head swam as I realized that all these drawings were of me!

"I do hope you'll sit for her."

I managed to stop gaping long enough to say yes.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

My evening dance classes were getting me home so late that I was always feeling tired the next day. It was worth it to feel the thrill of passing as a girl even in a leotard and tights. I had overcome the problem of returning home en femme by removing the little makeup I wore in class and brushing my hair out as I waited for the subway.

It was rather a surprise when Dr. Racine suggested I should start some judo classes one or two evenings a week. I told her the idea thrilled me but that I had to confess that I couldn't manage the late nights while still traveling home by subway.

"That can be easily solved. Frannie has a small apartment on the street level of her house. I'm sure she'll be glad to let you have it at no cost as long as you agree to sit for her. There are two bedrooms so you can even have a roommate. Don't reject this offer too quickly. It may be a while before your mother can find a suitable place for her planned move. This will take some pressure off her and give her find the right place"

"Would it be all right if I call Frannie and ask to see the apartment?"

Early the next Saturday found me at Frannie's house, a small but comfortable red brick federal period style building in Chelsea. The apartment that Frannie wanted me to have was a few steps up from street level. Frannie occupied the rest of the house. A door of a vestibule led to what Frannie hoped would be my apartment. She reassured me that she would respect my privacy and never again force herself on me.

"I know. Frannie, to be honest, I've come to feel a real affection for you."

I put my hand behind her head and pulled her face to mine. She stiffened, not knowing what to expect. My tongue pushed past her lips as she relaxed. Then we stepped back.

"See, I really do trust you."

The next morning Alexandra borrowed her father's panel truck and we began moving my things to my new place.

It would still be several days before I could move in but just the thought of having some of my things there gave me a sense of power and independence. It was also a place where I could change my appearance and my clothes from boy to girl and back with no limitations imposed by times when the office was available. Think of that as freedom to be me until the time would come when I could be the real me however she turns out.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

It was the Saturday after we completed the move when I went to the corner tobacco store to pick up a newspaper and a few of the magazines I feared to buy only weeks before. To my surprise Ron was at the counter paying for a pack of cigarettes.

"Well, good morning Ron."

My greeting was enthusiastic but with an intended ring of insincerity .

"Shelby!"

"Is that all you have to say? Good morning or hi might be a good start."

He was clearly embarrassed and feeling awkward. beyond what my aggressive greeting might have caused.

"Good morning, Shelby. I guess you work around here or something."

"Or something; I live here now. Say, what brings you out of the neighborhood so early on a Saturday?"

He avoided eye contact by looking down at the floor.

"Shelby, is there some place quiet where I can buy you a cup of coffee?"

"How about my apartment? I started the electric percolator before I left."

I really didn't care about anything Ron could possibly have to say but I wanted news of my own apartment to get back to the neighborhood.

Ron stared in amazement at the apartment and all its furnishing, furnishings which weren't mine. He didn't have to know that.

"How you going to finish high school back in the neighborhood if you live all the way here?"

"Not that it's any of your business but I'm transferring to a private high school in September. Now, you were going to tell me why you're up so early on a Saturday."

Again, he avoided eye contact.

"Come on, Ron. Out with it."

"I'm starting beautician school over on Eighth Avenue. Later on I'll take cosmetology too. I hate the work I'm doing. Look how rough my hands are."

He was more than a little agitated. After a few deep breaths, he calmed down.

"I thought I had it all hidden inside me but then that thing in the library...It all started to come up again. I'm learning to stop fighting it.

"Shelby, you're the bravest, most real person I know. I understand why you want nothing to do with me. Just let me tell you that I owe you big time for showing me that what I really need can be good and special in the way pretending I want to be with a real girl can never be.

"Maybe some day you'll see you're way clear to spending some time with me so I can make it up to you. No, forget that last thing. That's asking too much.

"Jesus! Look at the time. I gotta go so I'm not late my first day."

"Ron, you really can be so very sweet. I hope that's part of the real you, the one you tried to hide away inside you."

I wrote my new phone number on a slip of memo paper and handed it to him.

"Call me when you're ready."

I watched Ron descend the front steps. He turned, waved and mouthed a thank you. His face lit up when I blew him a kiss.

As I turned to go back inside, Frannie came down out of the door to the inside stairs leading to her apartment.

We exchanged friendly but still somewhat cautious greetings. I decided to go for broke. After all, Frannie was more than generous to me. Besides, I was getting the distinct feeling that what had happened when I was trying on the clothing she had made was a fleeting madness on her part. I realized, too, that the affection I felt for her was something a little more intense than simple fondness.

"Frannie, if you're not busy later I'd like you to stop by for some wine and cheese, a cold supper too if you've got the time."

"That's so very thoughtful. I'll make the time especially if I can sketch you?"

"I wouldn't want it any other way."

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The phone startled me awake the next morning.

"Alexandra! This better be good. I was up late last night. Sitting for Frannie."

"This is good; maybe bad depending how you feel about Ron. He was beaten up pretty badly last night. Nothing life threatening but his face is pretty battered. They tried to break his thumbs but I happened by and they ran when I slugged one of them."

Break his thumbs! That might keep him from being a hairdresser at least in the short run if not forever.

"That's horrible, getting jumped like that! He couldn't have done anything to deserve that."

"You're right from our point of view. A couple of guys had seen him with a booklet from a beauty school. And then some guy's sister was coming on to him and he told her he wasn't interested so a bunch of hoods decided he was queer and beat him up. If he's smart, he'll make it up with that guy's sister just to stay out of trouble."

My hands were shaking by the time I hung up the phone. I called Alexandra back immediately.

"Look up Ron's number for me. I don't have a Brooklyn book here."

I sat by the phone for a long time trying to get up the courage to phone Ron. When I finally did dial, I got a busy signal. Rob picked up on my third try.

"Shelby! I can't believe you called me. What's happening?"

"Alexandra told me what happened to you. I wanted to know if you're okay."

"Thanks for asking but I'm really not that banged up. Probably would have been a whole lot worse if your pal hadn't stepped in for me. Funny, but not so long ago I would have been really pissed if a girl jumped in to save me from a beating. Weird, isn't it?"

"No, Ron. Not weird but honest."

"Yeah, I guess so. Maybe I should learn to stop saying yeah when I should say yes. Won't go with the new me."

"Is it the new you or the real you that was hidden for so long?"

There was a long pause.

"Shelby, as soon as I have a few more bucks put aside I want to get out of here, move to a place where I don't have to pretend I'm something I'm not. Maybe you could steer me toward a place like you found."

"Sure, give me a call whenever you need me. And, Ron, one more thing. I'm really glad you weren't hurt."

It would be a long time before we spoke again.

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Around mid-August Alexandra left for the Marine Corps Recruit Depot at Parris Island, South Carolina. We had a quiet, romantic dinner at the Waverly Inn in Greenwich Village.

"Shelby, your the only person outside my family that I'm going to miss."

"Then let's make the evening last. Spend the night with me."
"Love to. Just have to call my folks as soon as we get to your house."

Three days later I saw Alexandra off at Pennsylvania Station on her way to Marine Corps Recruit Depot at Parris Island, South Carolina. She ended up as a bilingual something or other at Marine Corps Headquarters in Washington. I can't believe how great she looks in uniform. Although we get together quite often she always surprises me with the very tasteful but so very sexy lingerie she manages to wear under that very tailored uniform.

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A few days after I spoke to Ron, Frannie asked me if I would sit for her. I agreed at once knowing that posing for Frannie was part of why I had been living rent free in a very comfortable apartment.

I asked if she had any particular way she wanted me to pose.

"I would really like you to do whatever strikes your fancy at the moment. Would you mind terribly if I did some photographs beside the drawings? That way I could refer to the photos when I finish the pieces without troubling you."

"That would be swell."

I don't know what possessed me that day but I parted my hair in the middle and pulled it into two very short baby bunches. My make up, as usual, was very understated except for very intense eye shadow and mascara that gave me a waifish look. My plainest, most prim white panties were next. Then a plain white girl's undervest. White cotton anklets with lace edging were cuffed over.

I just didn't have the right shoes so I changed back to street clothes and headed to Fourteenth Street to buy a pair of black patent Mary Janes.

Frannie was waiting patiently for me as I made my to the little studio she had set up at the top of the house. She watched as I unbuttoned my blouse and unzipped my box pleated gray skirt.

"Why not start snapping some pictures right now?" I asked.

She nodded and moved as if in a trance. Rapid sketches to capture my essential lines followed. I slowly pulled the vest over my head and went through a series of poses that were both sketched and photographed. These poses often had me nude from the waist down, my penis denying that I was the pretty young girl I appeared to be. We creating an art concept that would force viewers to question their own senses, to reevaluate whether a penis meant the model was male and thus deny the reality of the female beauty or to deny the reality of the penis by accepting the female beauty despite the very male attribute attached.

After shocking Frannie so many ways with my poses, I shocked her once more by going downstairs to my apartment to return a few minutes later wearing a white bra. Then stockings and a garter belt were added along with an altered hair style. The waifish eye makeup was replaced with a more collegiate look. The woman was evolving from the girl even though her body hadn't changed. And still the overall anatomy of the beautiful sylph was a challenge to every traditional belief system about sex and sexuality.

The creation of the art form and the perfecting of the persona of its sole model became a passion for both Frannie and me. The seamstress business was leased to one of her assistants although Frannie retained the custom lingerie work producing Dr. Racine's designs. The rest of the summer raced by.

Frannie's pastel drawings of me were fetching very high prices from collectors. The more traditional photos and drawings were appearing in galleries in Chelsea and Greenwich Village. Frannie very generously shared half her profits with me.

The doors between the apartments were left open allowing very spontaneous and very meaningful intimacies between us.

I began orientation at my new school in late August. I wasn't the only 'special' student who showed up each day in a-line skirt, blouse, tie and blazer. I adored traveling to and from school in uniform although the rules demanded that my underthings be much more basic than those that Alexandra wore under her Marine uniform whenever we got together.

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An art gallery in Bardwin, the college town where Dr. Racine was teaching, planned a major exhibition of Frannie's work. I, as the mysterious model, was expected to be at the opening. We drove up the week after my high school graduation. Mother joined us.

Mother and Frannie hit it off very well, so well that they were sharing a room during the few days we spent in the Berkshires on our way to Bardwin. That was fine with me because even though the sex and the romantic intimacies with Frannie were great, I saw it as a dead end relationship due to age differences. Besides that, I needed to experiment with different kinds of people and different kinds of sex before I chose my personal path. That is if it turned out that there was only a single path for me.

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My hair was a mess when we got to Bardwin so it really needed some professional attention. A local salon had a new person who had been really successful getting girls like me ready to perform in a coffee house and to do cool jazz in an upscale restaurant.

Of course this diva stylist wasn't there when my hair was shampooed. I couldn't knock it because he or she was kind enough to squeeze me in after closing. Then again, they would get some attention for having done my hair for the opening. Fair exchange.

It could have been a man or a woman but from the voice I guessed it was a swishy guy. I heard him say goodnight to the girl who shampooed my hair and then lock the door behind her.

He finished toweling my hair. I blinked in shock as I saw Ron.

"So you finished beautician school."

He nodded. "I still owe you for getting me to see what I really am."

"You look so gorgeous. Ron, I'm just so happy for you."

It was small talk at first but it became more personal, more intimate as Roni worked on my hair. His tush was so adorable in his tight white trousers. Each time he bent or reached, he managed to show off his visible panty lines. Had to be panties with that curved seam at the gusset. Needless to say he was turning me on.

"Shelby, you remember that day in the library when you made me cum."

"How can I ever forget it?"

"Right then and there I knew I wanted to wear panties...Not just for kicks during sex but all the time."

He was standing facing me as I undid his fly, lowered his trousers.

"Pink is just so girly," I remarked as I saw his panties.

He blushed as I weighed his balls in my hand. I wrapped my lips over his cockhead and felt him harden in my mouth.

The next couple of hours were a combination of foreplay and hair styling. Roni, having dispensed with his trousers at my behest, was driving me mad in his well filled pink panties. His freshly shaven legs would have been the envy of most girls.

We lay on a bed used for waxing clients. Roni's cum was so delicious that I had trouble waiting to revive for the next orgasm. As I snuggled Ron's tush against my belly, I reached in front of him and kneaded his balls, grasped his prick gently. The softness of his bottom against me had given me hard-on that begged to be used. I pressed my cock between his panty covered cheeks. He reached between his legs and held my balls as I moved slowly back and forth in the cleft of his bottom. The explosive orgasm was so different from any I had ever experienced.

Roni spoke as we kissed.

"Promise me you'll fuck me next time...if you want a next time."

"Roni, love, there are going to be lots of next times between us."

After all, I just had to keep on evaluating different styles of sex and I just knew that Roni was going to be a big part of it for a long, long time.

 

Mardee Louise Prynne

  

  

  

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