This is a work of FICTION for ADULTS only. Do NOT read this if you are under 18 or if you are not an adult according to the laws of your state or country. Do NOT read this if you are offended by fantasies involving sexually explicit material.
Written by Bethany Jacques. Comments welcome to bethjac@hotmail.com

 

That red dress started it....!                  by: Bethany Jacques

 

Part 7

She began to lead Miriam away, then turned back to me and looked towards Neil, stood beside me. Then she whispered "You’ve got ten minutes" .

Ten minutes? For what? Hell !!!

I was standing there. With Neil. Helen had set me up again but this time she was serious. I turned to Neil, he was staring at my cleavage. I could do this. Helen had set me up. And I could do it, I could really do this. I felt rather sorry for Neil, I was using him but - what the hell. We were both going to have fun, I knew it. I smiled coquettishly at him.

"Like what you see?"

He blushed a deep red colour, he was embarrassed as hell. I thought quickly, turned and grabbed my purse from just behind me together with two champagne glasses and a half-full bottle which was beside them on the table. I couldn’t drag him this time, my hands were full.

"Follow me" I ordered quite sternly. He really had to obey. I headed down the hall and round the corner, then turned to push the bottle and glasses into his hand. I opened my purse and took out a key and opened the door. I went through and pulled him after me. Got him, exactly where I wanted him. There was enough light coming into the room from outside to allow me to totter along the corridor and reach the bedside lamp - in my bedroom. I’d led Neil through the connecting door into my own flat. I locked the door behind me and then, in a flash of inspiration, turned and dropped the key down my cleavage.

"If you want out you’ll have to get that yourself" I said boldly, smiling rather wickedly at him. He looked terrified. Not surprisingly, I was suddenly feeling extremely dominant, a role I had not really imagined myself in. I wasn’t the femme fatale, I was the Mistress. With a capital ‘M’.

"OK darling, pour us a drink will you, Neil. Then we can catch up where we left off. Don’t worry about Miriam, I wish you’d told me earlier but now ... well."

With which I moved closer and touched my lips gently to his. He was still nervous but really did warm to me as I caressed his body with mine, rubbing my leg up and down his thigh. In the quiet semi-darkness I noticed something I had not really reacted to before. The smell. The smell of sex. I could smell the sweat coming from his body and, I think, from between his legs where something was beginning to happen. When I had reacted automatically to Helen’s ‘invitation’ to seduce Neil I hadn’t really thought what that meant. What I was going to do, that is. But now I knew.

"Relax, darling, it’s OK. Just you leave everything up to me" I murmured in his ear as I massaged it with my tongue and my red lips once more, beginning to move my fingers tantalisingly over his body. Then we sat down on the bed and I moved to lie across him, to unfasten the belt on his trousers. Before he had time to react I had the zip down and reached in - to expose his now very erect cock.

This wasn’t the same as with the other guy, Dave, that is. This was different. This was consensual sex and I was enjoying the experience, with my first man. For the first time really I was looking at the object of my desire. Neil’s erect penis. It seemed long to me, it was certainly very erect, a tremor went through my body when I realised I had actually done this. This was down to me, this gorgeous erect pole would be small and feeble if it were not for the sexual attraction between the two of us.

"Neil darling, could you help me with my dress. Just pull the zip down -

that’s it, thank you my love"

And as I slid the dress off I stood before him, for the first time really as a man’s object of desire. I looked at him, he looked at me, we were both in our very different ways, for totally different reasons, as horny as we possibly could be. Which is in a sense exactly as it should be between a man and a woman.

"Jeez, Bethany, you look sensational" was all he said.

It was enough. I leaned over him again and invited him to unhook the front of my bra. He did so with trembling fingers. And my ‘boobs’ fell out. I realised he was very horny, obviously, and that I had to manage this carefully. So I just took hold of his thick rod and caressed it quite hard, watching it swell up even more. The colour of the cock-head surprised and fascinated me, it was a deep purple from the blood coursing through it. I kissed it gently, then opened my mouth and slid my lips down, half way down my first erect prick.

I didn’t have to wait long - he climaxed. There and then I experienced the first orgasm of another man as his cum shot out and down my throat. I swallowed as it poured out and was really disappointed as his cock subsided to a fraction of its former self. I sat up and looked at Neil. He was happy, deliriously so. I knew exactly what he was feeling, been there, done that. I found the key I had dropped into its hiding place and put it back into the lock, then re-fastened my bra and went into the bathroom to do what was necessary. When I came back Neil was gone. I lay down for a moment to recover.

And I woke up - eleven hours later!

Gin has never affected me as much as beer used to. At least I coped better with five or six gins than I ever did with ten or eleven pints of beer, a typical heavy ‘male’ drinking session. And the very best cure for a hangover for me has always been simply sleep. With the result that when I did wake that day, the first day of another New Year I had remaining only the last vestiges of a hangover. I’d slept through the rest. Over the next hour I cleaned myself up, removed my stuck-on prostheses and so on, and emerged to bright sunshine after two large mugs of coffee feeling on top of the world.

Something had changed, obviously. In a situation I had only fantasised in recent months I had ‘been’ a woman, socialising, laughing and joking, being the barmaid, the hostess and, OK, the flirt and finally the lover. I felt complete, or at least much more so than before. Now to get on with the rest of my life. I had my second degree to complete, to get my Masters, but things were looking up there too. I had handed in the initial stage of my project and I thought it was looking good, hopefully Prof. Kingsley would agree. He was a bit antique himself but a good guy, he kept his finger in the pulse and would recognise the positive aspects of what I was trying to do.

Or at least I hoped he would, I’d find out in the next few days. Meanwhile, what to do? I could always start to make progress but if it was approved I ought to start out on the big opinion review. Which would be wasted if I had to change tack. Better to wait that few days so that I wouldn’t waste any effort. I decided just that, I was ready for it but it was better not to actually start yet. Have a day or two off. Just relax, things had been pretty hectic round here after all. I was just sitting on the small bench outside the flat, in the bright sunshine even though the air was quite cold, having my third coffee of the morning. Nice day, nice world. I liked this.

But what to do? I decided to go for a jog, hadn’t done that for weeks, so many other things had happened. I dashed in and changed, put on my track suit and trainers, locked my door and set off. I hadn’t done this for too long, I really needed to get into shape. Not that my shape last night had anything wrong with it. Boy had I looked good. Or rather Girl, hadn’t I looked great. I jogged the few hundred yards up the Dudley Road to the small park I had visited before and then, slightly faster than I really expected, did three laps of the park. OK, the whole run was only about four miles but I still felt I was doing myself some good.

And when I got back I had a long, very hot shower and dressed casually and comfortably, wondering if I should maybe go round to see Helen or Charlie, thinking really how to start out the New Year before the new term. I remembered one obligation I had forgotten. I rang my mother and wished her a happy New Year. Luckily I didn’t have to talk to my step-father, he was apparently still sleeping off the night before even at that time of the day. Then at her suggestion I rang a few more family members, uncles and so on, for a bit of a chat. And a couple of my friends from college who had gone back home for the holidays. After which I was feeling pleased with myself.

And then Helen came round. With somewhat surprising news.

"Er - Andrew rang me a while ago, he wanted Bethany’s phone number. He’s asked me several times since Christmas but I’ve kept saying no. But after last night, well, I saw Neil go so I guess you rather enjoyed yourself."

She stopped.

"This is weird, Ben. I mean Bethany had a good time, don’t I. This is so weird. Anyway, did Andrew ring you?"

I told her I’d been ringing various people myself for about an hour so maybe he hadn’t been able to. Then I realised the implications of what she’d said.

"Hang on, Helen. Did you give him my number?"

The phone rang. I sat there in silence.

"Go on then" said Helen.

I picked up the phone. It was Andrew. I listened for a moment and then spoke. And now this was so very weird to me, the voice I was using was my ‘Bethany’ voice. I listened while he told me he’d been to his sister’s the previous evening and he wished he could have been at Helen’s party. He’d looked forward to maybe meeting me again.

"Look. Bethany. Can I come round this evening? About eight? Maybe we could go for a drink?"

Just at that moment Helen had been leaning over with her head next to mine, listening. She heard it all. I hadn’t replied, I was so surprised. She just looked at me and nodded, mouthing ‘Yes, go on, say yes.’ Which I did. I put the phone down.

"OK, so Bethany has a date" said Helen.

A date. Yes. Wow!

Helen looked at me again. Yet again she had dictated to me, decided what ‘I’, Bethany that is, was going to do. And yet again I had my doubts, OK, Helen had got it right so far at almost every stage. But this time, this was serious. Just what had she got me into?

"OK Ben. I can tell you are not so sure about this. But trust me. I am a pretty good judge of people and I do know what I’m doing. When Andrew gets here tonight he’s not going to know what to expect so it’s up to you to lead the way. He will find out what you want him to find out, but only if and when you decide. This is your date, and it’s your day. Now. I have a couple of phone calls to make, I’ll be back in about half an hour."

I was somewhat reassured by Helen’s comments but not totally so.

"And then we’re going to get you ready. Please, indulge me, I’d love to help. I really would like to watch the transition Ben. The whole idea has fascinated me ever since a couple of weeks ago. And maybe I could help?"

OK, That was it. I had been thinking while Helen had been talking. This Andrew seemed like a nice guy. Certainly I could see why any woman would consider him handsome, he was tall and well-built. In a sense a trannie’s dream really. And maybe he was gay. That meant I didn’t have to be quite so scared of him finding out my secret. And anyway he suspected it already, that was probably why he’d suggested the date. I just had to go ahead.

After Helen left to make her calls I decided not to rush things. ‘Take your time, Ben, do it right’ my dad had always said although I’m sure he’d have been surprised to find me applying his words of wisdom to me dressing up in women’s clothing, much less wearing makeup. And going on a date!.

OK, but the advice did apply to Bethany too. I did make a start, I had a hot shower and used the dep. cream lavishly all over my body, then dried myself and applied my favourite talc in all the places I thought it should be applied.

Then I sat down to watch TV! For over half an hour, I watched the end of the News broadcast and then one of those ‘classic’ sitcoms which are all the rage, I’d never really understood its attraction the first time round but by the end I was chortling away merrily, feeling very relaxed. Just as it finished I heard my doorbell again, it was Helen.

"Well Ben, you still are Ben aren’t you? You do smell sweet. Have you started yet?"

"Nearly, I was just relaxing first but I’d better get on with it." I slipped off my robe to reveal my naked body and looked up at Helen. I just couldn’t help it. My excitement very rapidly revealed itself.

"Wow Ben, you are about to have problems. I mean, I could help with that but I don’t think Charlie would like it!"

I grinned and turned away, reaching for my black panties. I pulled them up and tucked myself in, then turned back to face Helen. Her eyebrows rose.

"Where is it?" she asked, smiling.

"Don’t worry, it’s just a trick, it’s folded into these panties. Now, I think I’ve decided what to wear but I would appreciate your advice."

I showed Helen the blouse and skirt and shoes I had chosen. She looked at me in disbelief.

"Ben, or rather Bethany. What are you trying to do, put your date off from the word go? I know you’ve got quite a lot of clothes by now and I know you can do better than that. So you sort the breast-forms, I’ll have a look through the wardrobe."

So I did do the tits, I lay down to allow the glue to set while Helen busied herself sorting out my outfit. When I got up I did the make-up over the seams and then turned to put on my wig. Helen looked at me.

"Well. Bethany, definitely, Ben has gone. OK, lingerie first."

I argued that what Helen had chosen seemed a little unsuitable but I had been over-ruled. Within minutes I had on the black waist-cincher and the bra which matched the panties, the black set I had bought at ‘CCs’ before Christmas. They were a better quality than I had thought, but then I realised I had got the full discount when I had bought them so they really would have been quite expensive. The sheer black seamed stockings came next, then I started on the make-up. Here Helen was a great help. I ended up with exactly the look I had wanted but this time without using half as much to cover up as I had done before. It was a case of quality rather than quality. I sprayed a little perfume between my ‘tits’, then finished by sticking my longest set of red nails in place. And this time I super-glued them, no risk of ay embarrassment in whatever situation we ended up.

With earrings and a choker and several rings and bracelets I was beginning to really feel the part. Then Helen revealed the top she had chosen for me, one of the close-fitting sweaters I had bought from ‘CCs’ again. And to my amazement she stood there holding my favourite item of clothing. My black leather micro-skirt.

"I can’t wear that to go out in" I exclaimed. "That’s just for fantasies in front of a mirror!"

"Humour me" said Helen. She insisted I put it on, together with my highest black patent stilettos. I stood there wondering what Andrew would think.

"Bethany, he will love it. Really, dear, you are just oozing sex. The boys at Senorita’s are going to get a real treat. Call it what you like, eye candy or whatever, really you are a guy’s wet dream, they’ll all we jacking off in the Gents and thinking of you. And Andrew, if he is the man I think he is, will absolutely love being seen with you. I’d love to see his reaction but I mustn’t stay. Good luck, and if you feel like doing anything I wouldn’t do, just do it. Have fun."

With which Helen kissed me on the cheek, squeezed my hand, and left. I was on my own, contemplating what she meant. Again I decided to relax for a few minutes and sat down to sort out the contents of my purse. And then, a few minutes early, I heard a car pull in outside. I pulled the curtain to one side and peered out. It was Andrew. But he didn’t come to the flat, it occurred to me then that maybe he didn’t know exactly where I was living, exactly what the situation with me and Helen and Charlie was. I opened the window slightly and listened. I could hear two male voices. Then I heard the door close and footsteps outside. And my doorbell.

‘OK Bethany, here goes,’ I thought. And opened the door.

My ‘date’ was standing there. Looking indeed slightly embarrassed. For a moment I wondered why, after all he was obviously a man of the world, a man with lots of experience, varied experiences, in many matters including sexual ones. Then I realised this was probably a new one to him. Calling on his date, a transvestite, and really not knowing what to expect. But if he knew anything at all about TVs, and in this respect I was typical, what any trannie really wants is to be treated like something we really are not. Like a woman. How would a gay, or maybe bisexual, guy cope with that?

Well, Andrew was trying to cope. He was standing on my doorstep, looking rather nervous, holding out an absolutely gorgeous bunch of red roses! Where on Earth had he got them at that time of year? They must have indeed cost the Earth. I gasped a little in surprise, then recovered. Even before I could speak to thank him he jumped straight in, straight to the point.

"Er - Bethany...."

It was there again, that brief pause. But this time I didn’t really mind.

"I’ve asked Helen about five times and she won’t tell me. And I’ve just asked Charlie and he’s obviously under some sort of instructions from her. Please, I have to know. Are you...?"

I didn’t let him finish. I just moved the roses to one side and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek, right next to his lips.

"Later, Andrew. Now, thanks for the flowers, they really are lovely, it is so sweet of you. But what kind of a hostess am I? Please, come in for a minute, I’ll just put these in some water."

I noticed a small reaction as I said ‘hostess’ - that surprised him. I was internally beaming. Of course he was almost certain but - there was still just a little doubt. He actually did still think I might be a woman. But if he’d seen me in the kitchen he would have known otherwise. Flowers? How the fuck was I supposed to deal with them? OK, they were lovely but I had nothing suitable to put them in, no vase, no display jug or anything. I quickly grabbed a coffee pot from a shelf, ran a little water into it and pushed the roses in. That would have to do for now. I rapidly turned and went back into my little lounge. Andrew was looking through my CDs. Well, he’d get no real hints there. Basic 80s and 90s pop-rock, fairly gender-neutral, I thought though maybe I was deceiving myself. Anyway he wouldn’t have time to investigate fully.

"OK Andrew. Helen said something about ‘Senorita’s’. Do you really want to go there?"

I had tried not to say anything with the tone of my voice, just keep it neutral though I hoped the timbre was as feminine as I could muster. I could see Andrew thinking. He was looking straight at me. Had Helen and I overdone it? Was he looking at a woman or a trannie? And if he did see me as a woman, what sort of woman? I could just see my reflection, not too clearly, in the reflective glass behind him. All legs and heels, tits and hair, a bit of a dressy girl maybe? A sex object? Anyway, whatever he was thinking, he didn’t really show it to me.

"Well, I thought that might be OK. What about you? Would you like to go there?"

Heck, I thought. Got to start somewhere.

"Come on" I said, grabbing my leather jacket and my purse. "Let’s go see where the action is!"

Knowing full well that wherever we were, whatever we were doing that evening it would count as ‘action’ where I was concerned. Just BEING Bethany, that was action enough for me. As I slid into Andrew’s car beside him I remembered to be careful to slide my legs in, not allowing my miniskirt to show too much. I demurely put my jacket on my knees as Andrew drove. Me? Demure? Not in that outfit!

The truth of which was revealed about ten minutes later as we stepped, hand in hand, through the front door of ‘Senoritas’. To be greeted by the smell and the noise of a night club which was just beginning to get going. There were obviously a lot more people in there than the last time I’d been in, with Helen, a week or so earlier. Not packed yet but pretty full, maybe the real revellers of the night before were still sleeping it off. But we did have the desired effect.

Andrew did indeed look handsome, that was the very first time I properly thought of him in that way. Taller than me, just, in my highest heels. A lot beefier and more manly, I could see now exactly what Kate had meant by ‘a waste’ in a sense. He was something of a babe-magnet, that I could see. And he was with me! And in that outfit I was definitely a guy-magnet myself, obviously looking for love, or rather for sex. I expect a lot of the guys there gained that impression when they looked at us. And some of them were definitely looking - at me! Andrew was very protective though, his body language stood out. ‘She’s taken’ it shouted. He stayed close, we chatted for a while about his job, he wheedled some details out of me, about my being at the University, I kept everything I said gender-neutral. He was fishing but getting nowhere. But it was difficult, he knew what he was talking about. Then I realised why. He let something slip, about the Student’s Union.

"Andrew, were you at college? Here?" I asked as innocently as I could manage.

He looked worried, I don’t know why, as if he had been trying to hide the fact.

"Yes, about five years ago."

"Andrew - is that you?"

He had been just about to add to his admission, I could tell, when we both heard a voice behind us and turned together. We both recognised the speaker, though neither of us knew why the other did at that time. It was Andrew who replied.

"Hello Professor Kingsley."

I looked. Did I blush? Well might I have blushed bright red. I was sitting on a bar stool, in a tight ultra-mini skirt, nylonned legs on display, tits thrusting out, slightly over-made-up, holding a gin and tonic and staring at the man whose decision over the next few days would decide my future. Did he recognise me?

He moved forward, past Andrew.

"Well hello there " he said beaming, moving up close and putting a hand on my bare thigh. "So nice to see you again."

Hell!

 

End of Part 7

 

 

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© 2001 by Bethany Jacques. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.