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The Birth of Clarisse By Aleisha James I smoothed my gown nervously, my fingers moist inside the white kid glace gloves which covered my forearms, ending two inches above my elbows. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath while making a conscious effort to identify all of the sensations I was experiencing. I began with my feet. By now I was accustomed to the feel of heels. My white satin shoes felt light, and yet also constricting, around the toes. Most of my footwear these days was open-toed, to show off my pretty feet. Today was an exception, but then today was special in so many ways. The slightest motion brought home the delicious feel of my genuine silk stockings against my smooth, hairless legs. They felt so cool, which I needed today, what with all of the stress. My gown hung to the floor, again so unlike my usual attire, which was intended to show off my legs. I could not feel the silk of the gown directly against my lower body, since I was wearing a gorgeous full slip, but the effect of the layers of silk was to make me feel encased in lightness. White was such a virginal color, and while in some ways I did not deserve to wear white on this, my wedding day, in other ways I truly was a virgin. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. I often wore much higher heels than the three inches on these shoes, but I guess having my eyes closed affected my balance. The shift in weight brought into focus the tug of my garters. I doubt that I will ever become desensitized to that feeling; it reminds me more than anything else of the changes in my life. Well, maybe there are other things which bring my new status home to me in even more convincing ways, but the tug of garters as I move counts as the greatest change in the way I feel moment-by-moment. Thinking about those other things brought a familiar warmth to my groin, but I had dressed very carefully, so there was no risk of there being any visible sign of any arousal on my part. I hastily moved on with my mental cataloguing, since I did not want to feel the discomfort which always accompanied a thwarted arousal. I was so used to my chastity belt, and had learned not to think of it, that it's presence really did not signify, unless I became excited. My corset was tighter than usual, since it was so important for me to look as feminine as possible on this, the one day which would most truly affirm my right to feel feminine: my wedding day. I had learned to breath differently now, with small, shallow breaths which made my bosom rise and fall in a manner which I knew drew my husband-to-be's attention to my breasts whenever I displayed any amount of cleavage. Merely thinking of the look in his eyes when he was admiring me made that warmth in my groin increase. Thinking of my breasts made me aware of the now-familiar weight, supported by a pretty, lightly underwired bra, designed to maximize that very cleavage. Months of hormone treatments and, more recently, the surgical implantation of two small saline devices had given me a pair of breasts any natural woman could display with pride. I had long since become accustomed to the feel of the bra straps over my shoulders. I glanced down, a smile on my carmined lips as I saw the swell of my breasts through the lace which descended from the white satin collar around my neck to silk of the body of my gown. My gown was fastened up the back by a row of tiny white pearls, which had taken Andrea several minutes to fasten. I had tried on a backless gown, but was happy that I had chosen this one. That backless gown had been beautiful, but I had been uncomfortable wearing the strapless bra. Besides, the corset came up to high on me to be concealed beneath that gown, and even though I was now pleased with my weight, and figure, I still wanted the reassurance which wearing the corset afforded me. I turned my face upwards, relishing the feel of my long diamond earrings dangling from my reshaped lobes. I felt my lips curve into a smile, enjoying the feel of the lipgloss. The cosmetic surgeries I had undergone had been painful but without them today would not be quite the same. A shake of my head made my hair brush against the back of my gown. I often wore it in a ponytail, but today it had been styled so that it hung on either side of my face, framing my now-delicate features in a manner which had taken my breath away when I was permitted to see my reflection after my makeup had been applied and the hairstylist had pronounced himself satisfied. Even with my eyes closed I was aware of the constant presence of my maid of honor and my two bridesmaids. They had moved to one side to allow me these few minutes of reflection. Andrea, my maid of honor, had become my closest friend, and was in many ways responsible for who I had become and what was to happen in just a few short minutes. That thought swept me back in time, to when my journey began. I had no inkling at the time that anything at all was going to change in my life. I was twenty-three; a recent graduate with an excellent job. The job had required me to move to a city where I knew nobody, at first. But I seemed to hit it off with several of my colleagues. Jeff Bryant was the one with whom I got along best right from the beginning. A few years older than I, he was friendly and outgoing, that latter attribute something I lacked. I had always been somewhat shy, and had worried about making new friends. Jeff invited me over to his house within a week of my starting the job. I bought a bottle of wine, recommended by the store clerk, since I knew nothing about wine. Jeff's house was impressive, and I wondered how he could afford such a place. I had some idea of what he earned because my recruiter had outlined the level of income I could hope to achieve by the time I reached Jeff's seniority. The money was good, but not this good. Jeff greeted me at the front door and ushered me in. His wife, Andrea, was standing in the foyer. I had never met her before, although I had seen and admired the picture which Jeff kept on his desk. She was taller than I had expected, actually taller than my modest five foot eight, although without heels, she was probably my height. Andrea was a willowy blonde, with a slim figure and a wide, generous smile. She greeted me in a soft, sultry voice. I was instantly taken with her. There was something different about her, even though I could not for the life of me think what it might be. Dinner was a pleasurable experience. Both Jeff and Andrea were at pains to make me comfortable and it was not long before the initial stiffness always present on such occasions disappeared. Andrea, in particular, seemed intent on drawing me out, leaning forward to ask me about family and friends, including girlfriends. Several times, it seemed to me, her hand brushed mine in a manner that could not have been entirely accidental. After one such encounter, I glanced at Jeff to see whether he had noticed anything. He was sitting back, with a pleased expression on his face. Just for a second I wondered whether anything kinky was on the menu for the evening. But it turned out to be merely a very pleasant meal. Andrea was an accomplished cook, and both were not only fine storytellers but, more rare, excellent listeners. I was even emboldened to tell one of the few jokes I knew, and their laughter was sincere. Finally it was time for me to drive home. I had been careful not to drink too much, but I suspect that I was close to the legal limit. Lying in bed that evening I found myself with a erection, which I took care of by masturbating. The face that appeared in my mind as I neared orgasm was that of Andrea. A memory of her leaning towards me, gazing directly into my eyes as her hand brushed mine brought me to release instantly. That experience made me avoid Jeff the next morning, apart from what I saw as an obligatory thank you for the evening. Jeff was as friendly as ever, but of course he would have no idea that I had jerked off to the image of his wife! Jeff's job required him to travel to affiliated branches of the company about once a month. He had been gone for two days when I received a call from Andrea. She told me that Jeff had suggested that we have lunch on Saturday. I tried to excuse myself, memories of my reaction to her flashing into my mind, but she insisted. I saw no way of avoiding the lunch without hurting her feelings and maybe disappointing Jeff. Saturday began warm and sunny, but by mid-morning a frontal system had moved in. The temperature dropped and it began to rain. I had to drive carefully as I made my way to Andrea's house, since the roads were slick where the drizzle lay atop the oil which had seeped from the asphalt under the early morning sun. Andrea was dressed casually in a yellow sundress, which revealed her long legs. I could tell that she was wearing no bra, because I could see the nipples of her small but shapely breasts pressing against the fabric of her dress. My arousal was immediate, to the point that it hurt, and I was afraid that she would notice my reaction. If she did, she made no sign. She had prepared an elaborate salad, and uncorked a bottle of Chardonnay. We sat in the eating area off the large, airy kitchen. I felt nervous given my feelings towards my hostess and the absence of her husband. I think she sensed my nervousness, because, after a glass of wine, she opened her purse and extracted an elegant cigarette case. I was surprised because I knew that Jeff was a non-smoker and I had assumed that Andrea was as well. "I didn't know you smoked" I said. The foolishness of the question was obvious before I completed the sentence. "I don't smoke tobacco, my dear" she said, opening the case to reveal a row of neatly rolled joints. "But this I do smoke! And so does Jeff, you know. It's no big deal and we don't smoke during the week, but it really gets the weekends off to a great start!" She reached back into her purse to bring out a small silver lighter. She handed it to me while moistening a joint by rolling it between her lips. She saw my fascinated look and smiled. She placed the joint into her mouth and leaned towards me for a light. I flicked the lighter and held the flame to the tip of the joint. She reached up with one hand to hold mine still as she inhaled. The tip of the joint glowed redly as the fire took hold. She leaned back, still holding my hand. Holding her breath, she passed the joint to me. I had little experience with marijuana, but I did not want to look like a wimp, so I accepted the proffered gift. The grass was sweeter and less harsh than anything I had smoked before so I was able to inhale a lungful before passing the now-much reduced joint back to Andrea. She was by then breathing out a long streamer of aromatic smoke, directing it to her left, away from me. My lack of practice caught up with me as I began to cough. I tried to refuse a second toke, since I was already feeling a little dizzy. She overcome my feeble protestations and soon there was nothing left but a tiny roach. Andrea motioned me to follow her into the living room. She pointed to a comfortable looking sofa and asked me to sit. I did so, expecting her to sit opposite, but she simply told me to wait. She used a remote control sitting on a coffee table in front of the sofa to turn on the stereo. Soft romantic music filled the air. The sound quality was spectacular although the choice of music was not my style. She left the room. I was by then reeling under the impact of the dope, coupled with the large glass of wine, something I rarely drank, let alone so early in the day. The music filled my head, and I closed my eyes. I was in danger of drifting off completely when Andrea returned. I heard her enter the room and looked up. My heart skipped a beat and my mouth gaped open. She was wearing a short satin wrap in a silvery blue over a matching nightgown which maybe came down four inches below her groin. A froth of lace barely covered the lower part of her breasts. Unable to control my reaction I followed her long legs down to where her feet were clad in a pair of shoes such as I'd never seen. White open-toed heels, with thin ankle straps, they must have added six inches to her height. I was thankful that I was sitting down, else she would have towered over me. She had let her hair down, and freshened her makeup. She stood for a moment, watching me looking at her. A slow smile told me that she approved of my stunned reaction. She walked towards me, her hips swaying. I tried to sit up straight, and pressed up against the corner of the couch where I was sitting. I felt like the prey of some invincible predator, and at the same time I was immensely aroused. She knelt on one knee on the couch beside me, her left breast rubbing up against my right arm. I could feel the heat of her body and my nostrils filled with her scent. She leaned over and took my face in her hands before lowering her lips to mine. That kiss was the most sensual I had ever experienced, and only some of that was due to the intoxicating effects of the dope. When we finally broke for air, I managed to ask the question which had sprung into my mind as soon as she had returned to the living room. "What about Jeff?" Her laughter filled the room. "Honey, this is as much his idea as mine. We LIKE you. We both think that you are perfect! Or that you will be" I missed the significance of that last comment, lost in the enormity of the idea that Jeff wanted me to make out with his wife. She kissed me again and I responded fervently, half lifting myself off the couch to grapple with her, wrapping my arms around to hold her tightly. "Whew, baby. Not so fast!" She pulled back. My lust was causing my breath to come in gasps. "Let's go to the bedroom and get you as comfortable as me. Would you like to be as comfortable as me?" I nodded my assent. I would have agreed to anything just then. There was something about Andrea which turned me on more than any other woman had ever done. She led me to a sumptuous, huge master bedroom, dominated by a massive bed. I had seen king-sized beds before, but this must have been emperor sized. She disappeared into a walk-in closet while instructing me to strip completely. I was straightening up from having removed the last of my clothes when she returned. She held her hands behind her back as she walked up to me, now at least six inches taller than me. She bent over to kiss me on the lips. "Will you wear what I have for you? I promise I'll make it worth your while. You do want sex don't you?" "Oh yes, Andrea. Whatever you want!" My penis was bobbing in front of me, rigid with desire. It had brushed against her nightgown when she had kissed me and I had almost come right then. She stepped back and brought her hands before her. A small voice in the back of my brain told me to run. Told me that this was getting too kinky. But lust rose in a tidal wave to overwhelm and bury that voice. I reached out and took the nightgown from her. It was identical to the one that she wore. I pulled it on over my head as she removed her wrap and shoes. Delicate coolness rippled down my torso as I wore my first nightgown. The hem brushed against my penis. I had a moment's trouble adjusting the shoulder straps but then I was dressed. I looked at Andrea. Her eyes were shining brightly. She pointed to my penis and laughed. "We'll have to do something about that thing, won't we?" I nodded, knowing what I wanted to do about it. "But before we tend to it, I have another surprise for you, honey" she said. She turned her back to me and I could see that she was reaching beneath her nightgown. I saw her twist her torso and then pull downwards. She was taking off a pair of panties. They seemed odd somehow, as if there was more to them than the flimsy silk I would have expected such a feminine creature to wear. She stepped out of them quickly and her body prevented me from making out any detail. She seemed to shake herself and then she turned to face me. Oh fuck! I stared like a mouse trapped by a mongoose. I could no more move than if I had been glued to the floor with some super-adhesive. She walked towards me, across the short distance separating us. I felt her hands stroking my back through the silk of my gown. Her lips pressed against mine and despite what was now a shrieking in my mind, I kissed back. My penis had lost none of its rigidity when reality had made itself apparent. With her presence in my arms, with her body pressed against me, and her lips locked with mine, her scent filling my brain, my penis declared that it wanted this creature who so clearly wanted me. Our penises touched, and both of our bodies spasmed. She pulled back and, with her face no more than four inches from mine spoke to me again. "There! There! We were made to be like this! You were made for this! Your body can't lie!" There was nothing I could say. We embraced again, lust pulling me towards her even though a tiny part of me wondered how we could possibly have sex. I learned how over the course of the next hour; the longest, most exhilarating and most terrifying hour in my life so far. She made me lie on the bed, spread-eagled on my back. Then she tied me to the corners of the bed, using restraints and attachments which evidenced that bondage was no stranger in her sex life. Having rendered me captive she proceeded to play with me. I was still high from the marijuana so the sensations evoked when she ran her nails over my body and, worse, followed those ministrations with a feather boa, caused me to writhe in pleasure and pain for minutes at a time, gasping and begging for mercy. Then she sucked my cock, slowly and with infinite care to ensure that I did not orgasm. All the while she was talking to me, making me talk back to her. It took only a few minutes of this for me to scream that I was really a girl, that I wanted to be a girl, that I wanted to be her girl! After I had claimed for the third time to desire to be her girl forever, she stood up. Moving forward, she knelt straddling my chest, her penis in her hand. I had never seen a penis from this angle or this close. She had a small penis, although I was in no position to criticize since mine was not much bigger. It looked to be less than five inches long, and not very wide even though it was very hard, a large vein pulsating along its side while the purpling head bobbed gently before my eyes. "Suck your lover, little girl. Show Andrea how much you love to suck cock" Her low voice was insistent and hypnotic. My lips opened of their own accord, forming a perfect 'O'. I raised my head off the bed as she moved forward. Her cock was warm velvet in my mouth. Sucking seemed instinctive and soon she was moving rhythmically over me as I moved my head back and forth. She began to moan in passion as I sucked harder and harder, trying to emulate the little twists and tongue flicks I had felt her use on me. I thought that she must be close to orgasm, and I knew that I was rapidly approaching the climax myself. It was then that she drew back. My anguish must have shown on my face, saliva dripping from my lips as I stared longingly at her penis. "Honey, we are going to do this right!" she said. She reversed herself, lying down on top of me, her groin in my face while she took my penis in her mouth. Gratefully, I accepted her back into mine and within a few seconds we were spewing cum into each other. The letdown after orgasm left me feeling drained, and I began to feel embarrassment about what we had done. I had just had sex with another man! I had just had sex while wearing women's lingerie and screaming that I wanted to be a girl! Guilt began to fill my mind, while Andrea was in the bathroom brushing her teeth. She had left me still secured to the bed, although with a promise to be right back to release me. She returned smiling. She must somehow have put her panties, and what I later learned was a gaff, back on, since no trace of her male identity remained visible. Looking down at me, her expression sobered. "Oh honey! I know just what you're thinking. It's all that cultural baggage we stick ourselves with. I'm going to untie you, but we have to snuggle. Promise we will snuggle?" I nodded, feeling depression displacing the passion I had experienced moments ago. She untied me and, true to her word, lay down beside me and embraced me. I could still taste her semen in my mouth and desperately needed to rinse, but at the same time the touch of her body and the empathy I felt from her gave me much-needed strength. I clung to her like a drowning man to a floating log. "Honey, it's all right. It's all right. It's all right" She repeated that assurance as I was cradled in her arms. Finally the tears came and I bawled like a baby. "That's good, honey" she said, rocking me back and forth. "Let all that guilt out, baby. Have a good cry" I hadn't wept since I was about ten years old. Boys don't cry. 'Does this mean I'm not a boy' I thought as my tears drew to a close. I sniffled, hiding my head against her breasts. Pulling back, I managed to choke out a few words. "Thank you, Andrea. I'm better now. I want to clean my teeth" I couldn't look at her as I spoke those words. Even talking about cleaning my teeth cost me dearly because it contained an acknowledgment of why I needed to do so: because I had just sucked her cock and she had cum inside my mouth. She acted as if this was of no concern whatsoever; as if it was the most natural thing in the world, which to her it was. She followed me into the bathroom and gave me a brand-new toothbrush. She rubbed my back as I mechanically brushed my teeth, all the time whispering reassurance to me. Moving back into the bedroom, I removed the nightgown and reached for my clothes. Andrea stepped in and, gently but firmly, took my shorts away from me. "Honey, that's wrong. You need to experience the feminine side of your nature today. It's important. If you try to deny what we just had, you will destroy your life. It happened, and it was beautiful and natural. You need to affirm your nature, not to deny it" She looked at me, her head tilted to one side, and one arm on my shoulder. Her tone was low and intense, as if she could convince me by some form of telepathy. Maybe she could, or maybe my psyche had taken too much punishment for me to resist. Whatever the cause, I spent the next half hour having depilatory cream rubbed all over me, apart from my hair and eyebrows, followed by a warm shower during which I watched my body hair spiral down the drain. Next she powdered my body with a rose-scented talc. Then came the clothes. Within a remarkably short time I was fully dressed, and dressed as a young woman. Not the everyday clothes which most women wear, for convenience and comfort, but the clothes of a determinedly feminine young woman. The panties and bra were in matching ivory silk, with lace trim around the waist and thigh openings of the panties. Foam inserts gave shape to the bra. A garter belt and nylons gave me the first exposure to what was to become a familiar delight, although my enthusiasm was restrained at the time. A slip in ivory silk shimmered over my torso. Andrea fussed through her closets, which were huge and crammed with beautiful clothes, before selecting a simple black dress. "No cleavage for now, I think" she smiled. "Not until you decide to grow your breasts!" I acknowledged her smile with a muted one of my own. Part of me wanted to stop this charade and run from the house. Part of me was finding a secret enjoyment in the fun of dressing up. For fun it was. Andrea made it obvious that this was to be a light-hearted romp, just two girls having a good time. Her sparkle was infectious, at least for that secret part of me. Andrea had just one firm rule while this was going on: I was not to peek into any mirror. This was not an easy rule to obey, since she had mirrors everywhere, but I managed to avoid catching anything more than a glimpse. Makeup was next. "Ouch! What are you doing?" I yelped. She had had me sit before a vanity, with my eyes closed. She had applied a liquid cream, I could tell more or less what it was from the feel of it on my skin. This was foundation. Then came a sharp pain from my right eyebrow. "Stay still, silly" she told me. "I'm just shaping your eyebrows. They are a disgrace!" "But people will see! You have to leave them alone" "No I don't. But I won't take out much, and I will show you how to make them look bushier before you go" Unhappy, but unwilling to resist, I sat back while she shaped my brows. It sure felt like she was removing a lot of hairs! She made me sit sideways on the chair while she did my eyes. The worst part was when she applied the mascara. The brush touched my eye and I flinched, while she apologized. My eyes watered because of that and she had to use Q-tips to repair the damage. The last touch was the use of a lip pencil to outline my lips, giving them a broader look than my own natural appearance. Then she filled in the image of my lips with a lipstick. I rubbed my lips together and then closed them on a tissue to remove the excess. I had thought that I was ready to see myself now, but she corrected me. "No young lady would go out without shoes and jewelry. And your hair!" So I suffered silently as she fitted a wig over my scalp. It was strange, having hair around the side of my head and touching my shoulder. She chose a couple of rings for me, cautioning me not to put anything on my ring finger on my left hand. "Not until you are engaged" she laughed. I noticed that she wore a larger diamond engagement ring and a wedding band. 'How did she get those?' I wondered. She couldn't be legally married! At last she pronounced herself satisfied. She made me stand. I closed my eyes in response to her command and gingerly walked, her hand guiding me, across the carpeted bedroom. She told me to stop, and then she told me to open my eyes. I was facing a pretty young woman, her dark brown hair framing her oval face. Her full lips glistened with crimson lipstick, while her eyes appeared huge due to the dramatic eyeshadow. Lush black eyelashes batted at me as she blinked. Her body did not look quite right, but I paid no real attention to any deficiencies. This girl was me! How could I, Steve Constock, look like this? Andrea insisted that I practice acting as a woman. She was a demanding instructor, but was quick to praise any progress I made. We even used a video-camera for my lessons in walking: small steps, placing my feet one in front of the other. She made me walk with a large book balanced on my head, and then up and down stairs, which was really difficult at first. Even sitting was not as easy as it seemed. I had to be reminded to smooth my skirt beneath me as I sat, and to at all costs avoid sitting with my knees apart. There were times that afternoon when I almost rebelled, but she was so patient, so sweet, and besides, I had already gone too far to be able to back out with any shred of dignity. Andrea acted as if what had happened earlier and what we were doing now were just the most natural things in the world. It seemed easier for me to go along with this attitude rather than act out my inner worries. We ordered dinner in, excellent Chinese food accompanied by a dry white from their extensive cellar. Then it was back to my lessons. Andrea was deaf to my muted protests, but thankfully even she had had enough by about nine pm. We smoked another joint and then she invited me to spend the night in her bed. I was too wasted to drive home, and I have to confess that my cock twitched as soon as she made the invitation. I learned how to remove makeup. "Never go to sleep with your makeup on, honey. You'll smear the linen and wreck your skin!" She produced a new nightgown for me to wear, a white babydoll with a cute pink ribbon forming a bow over my bodice. We cuddled for a while, my erection pressing up against her. She teased me by commenting on how pretty I looked and what a surprise it was to find that a pretty girl like me had a big hard penis! But she declined any more sex that night. I do not remember any dreams that night. I do remember coming awake feeling safe and warm. There was an unfamiliar presence next to me; a fragrant soft body clad in silk. I moved against her without conscious thought, feeling my hardness nestle into the crack between her buttocks. "Hmmm! That feels nice!" Andrea pushed back against me for a second before rolling over to face me, a bright smile on her lips. "Honey, I could get used to waking up with you in my bed. Your body knows how to pay a girl a compliment" I blushed. She gave me a quick kiss, just a peck on the lips. "No time to play today, I'm afraid" she said, climbing out of bed. "Jeff's due home around eleven, and I want to be ready for him" My composure vanished. Jeff was coming home! No matter what Andrea had said about how he had encouraged this visit, no man could welcome another man into his wife's bed, even if his wife was really another man. "Don't worry, honey! Jeff wouldn't mind if you were here. But I think you might be more comfortable going home. We'll take it one step at a time, okay?" I nodded thankfully. My male clothes were where we had left then after I had stripped last night. I got dressed hurriedly, without showering. I did clean my teeth, using the same toothbrush which Andrea had given me yesterday. When I came out of the bathroom, Andrea was waiting for me with a small suitcase in hand. She held it out to me. 'What's this?" I asked, although I suspected I knew the answer. "I think your girl-self needs some clothes, and a little makeup. Please accept this as the start of your new wardrobe" I wanted to decline, but as I had discovered already, Andrea was a difficult person to refuse. I placed the suitcase on the passenger seat and drove home. I kept reliving the events of the weekend in my head, over and over. Arousal fought with shame all the way home. Several times I almost stopped the car to throw away the suitcase, but I never got to the point of decision. Arriving home, I put the suitcase into my bedroom closet without yielding to the temptation to open it. My apartment looked small and shabby in contrast to Jeff and Andrea's magnificent home. I spent the balance of the day watching sports on television. Boring, but masculine. Next day was torture. It had been bad enough the day after I had had dinner with Jeff and Andrea. Then the memory of masturbating to Andrea's image had caused me to avoid Jeff. Now I had to deal with having had sex with her! It was not until about ten o'clock that Jeff came to find me. He pulled up a chair and sat down, greeting me warmly. My cheeks were bright red and I could not bring myself to look him in the eye. Jeff glanced around to make sure that no-one was in earshot. "Well, I heard things went really well on the weekend, Steve." I nodded, still avoiding his gaze. "Although calling you Steve seems wrong somehow! The way Andrea tells it, you're a natural little girl!" I couldn't take it anymore. I stood up and pushed past him, ignoring his shocked expression. I was close to running as I left the room. The elevator doors were almost closing, but I pushed them open and entered. Down to the lobby and out into the parking lot. I walked to the far corner, through several rows of cars and sport-utes. Standing with my hands on my hips, I hung my head and began to cry. I was lost in self-pity and remorse when I felt a hand on my shoulder. Turning my head I realized that Jeff had caught up with me. He seemed truly concerned, no laughter on his somber face. "Look Steve, that was really insensitive of me. I'm truly, truly sorry" I wiped away the tears. "I'm sorry too" I mumbled. "Steve, believe me when I tell you that Andrea and I like you. We like you more than you can imagine. We don't want to hurt you. Far from it: we want to help you" I stood silently, able now to look at him. He spoke earnestly. "I love Andrea. Many people would think of us as perverted, but the truth is that we are two people very much in love, who fulfill each other's needs in every way. Not everyone fits into the neat gender categories which conventional society ordains. Some of us are different, even when we don't want to admit that even to ourselves" He paused, his eyes searching my expression as if to gauge my reaction. I remained impassive, listening but not responding. "I thought that maybe you were one of the ones trapped, without knowing it, in other peoples' idea of who and what you were. Andrea agreed as soon as she met you. What happened this weekend was intended to help you realize who you are: who you can be. should be" Every syllable and every nuance of body language spoke of his sincerity. As I listened I felt a great weight lift from my shoulders, a weight which I had not even known was there. I felt my lips form a smile, even while I was aware of the last of my tears drying on my cheeks. "Thank you, Jeff." I said. "I'm okay now.." He reached out to place his hands on my shoulders while lowering his head and looking at me from beneath his brow. "I won't push you. You let us know when you are ready, and we will help you some more" I thanked him again and told him that while I was feeling much better, I thought I would go for a walk before returning to the office. "I understand, Steve" he said. I do not remember how the rest of the day went. I doubt that I earned my salary that day or at all that week. I spent a lot of time reading escapist books or watching television; anything to avoid having to think. Despite that feeling of a weight coming off my shoulders, I was still far from ready to embrace a new self-image. Twice I brought the suitcase out of the closet and twice I put it back with out opening it. Several times, when out in search of a new book to hid behind, I found myself looking at women's magazines, wondering whether I should be buying them, to study fashion, to check out hairstyles and so on. Once I forced myself to move along the newsstand and buy a Swimsuit Issue of some sporting magazine. At home I looked through the magazine, at all the fabulous models baring almost all. But the images which floated in front of my eyes once I put the magazine down were not of any of those beauties but of Andrea. And of me! Jeff was kind enough to stay away from me. He did so to such an extent that a couple of our co-workers asked me whether I had done something to piss him off. I had no answer other than a casual, although forced, dismissal. Telling the truth was not an option! It was three weeks later that Jeff was called away again. And it was that afternoon that I got the call I had half-dreaded and half-longed for. "Hi, honey! Please come to lunch tomorrow. Please. I will be so hurt if you don't" Andrea's voice was music in my ears. An erection rose unbidden and my voice got caught in my throat. There was no way to refuse her request. "Have you been wearing the clothes I gave you?" "No.. I can't seem to make up my mind" I said. "No matter, honey. But please wear something pretty under those ugly boy clothes tomorrow. pretty please?" My tongue did not seem to work right, and the bulge in my crotch was downright painful as I stammered my assent. Next morning I finally opened the suitcase. She had packed the babydoll nightie I had worn the night I slept in her bed. A small plastic bag contained lipstick, eyeliner, a compact and a tube of mascara as well as a jar of liquid foundation. I put the nightie into my underwear drawer and the cosmetics under the sink in the bathroom. The suitcase also contained lingerie which was identical to that which I had worn for Andrea, but it had to be a different set since it was neatly folded and obviously freshly cleaned if not brand new. I was naked when I opened the suitcase, but an idea struck me before I put on any of these pretty clothes. My body hair had grown back over the past three weeks. "This will never do!" I thought to myself. Shaving my arms and legs took a lot longer than I expected. I had to wait a few minutes after I was finished in order for the couple of nicks I had inflicted on myself to stop bleeding. Finally I was ready. I put on the bra first, remembering to fasten it in front of me before turning it around my chest and putting my arms through the straps. Andrea had placed two breastforms in the suitcase but I decided not to use them. I would be dressing outwardly as a man, and it would be difficult to explain why I appeared to have breasts. Even though I was planning to head straight over, I might get pulled over by a cop. Besides, I thought, it would be nice to take her some flowers. Something Andrea had told me last time made me stop putting on the panties next. What if I had to go to the bathroom? I had better put my panties on over my garter belt. The other way looked sexier, more like the image that men formed from reading certain types of magazines, but, as Andrea had said, being a woman was not always what men thought it was. Pulling the nylons up my sheer legs felt wonderful. I sat on the edge of my bed running my hands lightly over my nylon-clad thighs. What a rush! I chuckled to myself as I stepped into my panties. Maybe Jeff and Andrea were right about me! I had trouble bending my penis back between my legs since it had swollen, although well short of an erection. There was definitely a bulge there: most unladylike! I put on my slip, which felt cool and delicious, but then took it off as I realized that it was not suitable beneath blue jeans. I needed a dress or a skirt, but even if I had one, I wasn't about to go out in it. I pulled on a pair of socks over my nylons and then the blue jeans and a sweater, which concealed my bra. On the way over I bought a bouquet of flowers. Standing in line to pay for my purchase gave me a secret thrill. There I was, wearing forbidden clothing, on my way to an erotic, exotic encounter. None of these staid, ordinary people had any idea of what was going on. Andrea greeted me at the door with a hug and a kiss on the lips. I felt her tongue push against my lips for just a moment. She was spectacular in a pale lemon blouse, open to reveal more than a hint of cleavage and a tight short black leather skirt, which looked as if it had been painted on. She wore only a trace of makeup, and her perfume was barely enough to tantalize. I found my heart rate soaring as I followed her into the house. She paused in the kitchen to place the flowers into a vase. "I'll cut and arrange them later, honey. Maybe you can help. But first we have to make you presentable" She took my hand in hers and led me, unprotesting, into the bedroom. My will power seemed to have vanished. I had surrendered to her as soon as she had kissed me. She seemed to know it, telling me to strip while she watched, a quiet, confident smile on her face. She complimented me on having the foresight to shave, although she told me that on the way home I should buy some depilatory to avoid having to shave. "Either cream or waxing, dear. Shaving is too much bother. I wax every month, and use the cream once in a while. I think the cream can cause problems. Some girls are allergic to it, or can develop an allergy. Waxing hurts, but then we girls have to suffer to be beautiful!" I had hoped that we would go to bed right away, but Andrea acted as if sex was the furthest thing from her mind. Instead, I was given a teddy to wear, and then a tight pair of jeans and a tank top to put over my now prominent 'breasts'. The jeans were difficult to get on. The nylons helped, since they were slippery. There was a short slit at the bottom of each leg, otherwise I could never have pulled them over my feet. Andrea introduced me to the confines of a gaff, again an essential for wearing clothes like these jeans. Once I had on the three inch heeled slingbacks, she made me walk up and down. "You are doing great, honey! You walk really well. We need to fill out your bum a bit,, and do something about your waist. But for a beginner, you're doing great" We spent two hours practicing my moves. I learned to develop a wiggle in my walk. "Not too much, dear. You don't want to look like a whore!" I blushed. "Of course, maybe there will be a time when looking like a whore will turn you on" she laughed. There was no good answer to that, so I smiled and kept silent. At long last Andrea announced that we had had enough lessons for today. Now it was time for us to be two girlfriends spending a romantic weekend. We started with a joint. "You know, Steve, you are doing so well, but both Jeff and I understand that you are having to fight so many years of cultural propaganda. You are always going to have doubts until you have crossed completely to the other side" "The other side?" I asked. "The other side of the gender line; the internal dividing line between the feminine and the masculine. You were raised, conditioned, to believe that you are on the masculine side, and now you are beginning to learn that all of that was wrong. You are a feminine being, honey. You belong on my side of the line" I looked at her. Yes, I knew that she was genetically a male. That she still had male plumbing. But Andrea was right about one thing. She definitely lived on the feminine side of the line, and at that moment I felt a tremendous tug, as if some force were pulling me towards her side. "Take a hit" she encouraged. "You need help breaking down those inhibitions, casting aside the bars which have imprisoned you for so long" I inhaled deeply, pleased at my ability to hold the smoke in my lungs without coughing as I had done last time. Andrea put on an album by Diana Kraal and we danced slowly to the quiet music. I could feel my cares spiraling away as we held each other close. This time it was I who took the first step, leaning in and kissing her. She smiled and I leaned my head against her shoulder. We danced, or more accurately clung to each other while moving in time to the music, for maybe fifteen minutes before Andrea loosened her embrace. "Let's go to bed" she said, her eyes shining bright. I nodded, tongue-tied. We undressed each other. I nuzzled her breasts, licking, sucking and nibbling at her nipples until she squealed with pleasure. "Wouldn't you like breasts like these?" she teased. "Then you could have your lover do this to you!" I laughed and knelt to kiss and lick her navel. We were now naked except for our garter belts and nylons. Our gaffs were long gone and her penis was sticking out in front of her as I pressed my face against the smooth, taut skin of her belly. I felt her hands on my head, slowly but firmly pushing me lower. She had shaved her pubic hair so that it formed a small inverted triangle. She must have perfumed her groin, since the scent filled my nostrils as my lips and tongue moved lower. I kissed her skin and then bent my head to one side so that I could lick her balls. Despite the awkwardness of my posture I took each testicle into my mouth and gently suckled them before turning my attention to her shaft. I licked up one side and than the other, pausing over the head to flick my tongue over the slit. She was arching her back, her fingers clenching and unclenching in my hair as she moaned. I looked up at her, feeling the power I held to bring her such pleasure. It struck me that I was enjoying a very feminine type of power at that moment. The thought made my already hard penis twitch and a warmth filled my stomach. Bending once more to my task, I took her into my mouth and slowly moved up and down, being sure to run my tongue around the underside of the head of her penis on each upwards movement. I tasted a salty fluid: pre-come. That was my signal to back off: I remembered how she had brought me time and again to the brink of release when we had first made love. The nearness, the intensity of desire, temporarily frustrated, had caused my excitement to mount to an unprecedented height, making orgasm, when it arrived, truly a climatic experience. I wanted to give Andrea that gift today. And so it was. This time it was Andrea who laid spread-eagled on the bed. She showed me how to fasten the restraints and where she and Jeff kept the toys. I had a wonderful time manipulating her response, bringing her to the brink and then away, despite her increasingly fervent prayers for an ending. But my inexperience showed itself. I had gone down on her for the third time, sucking and licking slowly and sensuously. 'One more second' I thought to myself. 'Then I'll pull back' It was too late! She came in a series of juddering spurts, jism filling my mouth and leaking from my lips. Her hips were bucking furiously and it was all I could do to keep her penis in my mouth. The realization that I had brought her to release triggered my own orgasm, my seed spilling onto her belly. Her wild gyrations ceased and I sat up, my lips closed on a mouthful of her cum. She was smiling up at me, sweat glistening on her body, the covers of the bed in disarray. She looked wonderful, her face flushed and her delightful bosom heaving. I scrambled off the bed and rushed to the bathroom. Last time, when I had given her my first ever blowjob, I had swallowed her cum, but I had had no choice, strapped to the bed. Andrea had taken her mouthful of mine into the bathroom, and that was what I did. I spat it out, rinsed and brushed my teeth, taking my time in the warm comfort of knowing that I had pleased my lover. I used a face cloth to wash my cum off my body, and after rinsing it out, took it back into the bedroom. As I walked back into the bedroom I deliberately swayed my hips in an exaggerated way. "Do I look like a whore now?" I asked. She laughed uproariously. "Oh, sweetie, you can be my whore any time you want" After quickly removing my cum from her skin and returning the face cloth to the bathroom, I climbed onto the bed and laid beside her, moving my hands over her body. She was still tied up, and I felt no rush to release her. I suckled her breasts and kissed the sweat from her belly. Was some of the salty taste a remnant from my own orgasm? Then I straightened out and lay still, our faces inches apart, my eyes gazing deeply into hers. "You feel it, don't you" she said quietly. I knew what she meant. "Yes, Andrea. I think I'm almost across the line" "No, honey. Right now, you are across; all the way. What you felt, what you are feeling now, is the feeling of love from a feminine perspective. You may stray back across the line a few more times, but now that you've come this far, it is only a matter of time before you are here to stay" Tears began to roll down my face, even though inside I was as happy as I had ever been. I kissed her tenderly and rose to my knees to untie the straps. We embraced warmly, this time with no sexual overtones. She was my sister, as well as my lover. The weekend lasted forever and yet it was over too fast. We made ourselves a late lunch, working comfortably together in the kitchen. Andrea was careful to show me the right way to do things, joking that as a young girl I should have paid more attention! "Didn't you mother tell you that the best way to a man's heart is through his stomach?" she asked. "Is that how you captured Jeff's heart?" I said, greatly daring. I was joking as if I were a girl! "It was somewhere down there, but maybe a little lower" she said, winking at me. I had to stop peeling the carrots, I laughed so hard. I do not recall a more carefree time than that golden day. Night found us dressed in our nightgowns, snuggling against each other. Andrea once more refused my advances. "I love you sweetie, but I belong to Jeff. He's my husband, and if I have another orgasm tonight, I won't be as amorous with him tomorrow, and that's not good" We ate breakfast in the morning dressed in negligees, sitting in the kitchen. Breakfast was a half-grapefruit and a cup of coffee. "You're going to have to start eating properly, young lady" she said when I suggested cooking some bacon and eggs instead. I wondered whether I should rush home as I had done that first weekend, but Andrea insisted I stay. "Jeff's been worried about you. It will be good for him to meet you like this. Besides, it's time you got an appropriate name, and Jeff told me that he'd like to be here when you choose it" "A name?" I asked. "Honey, there isn't a Steve in the world who looks as good in a negligee as you do. And you didn't act like a Steve in bed!" Somehow I found myself blushing around Andrea more than I had ever blushed before, and now I was doing it again. "When's he due home?" "In a couple of hours. That'll give us time to work out" We changed into leotards, mine a vivid pink while hers were black with a red stripe along either side. Working out meant using a treadmill and a device to help support our heads while we were doing abdominal crunches. "You're lucky that you're slim, and haven't lost tone in your abdominal muscles" she told me. "A couple of months of this, combined with proper diet and some pills I can get you will work miracles on your body" "I don't know about pills, Andrea. What kind of pills?" She told me that she had for years been taking female hormones. She also told me that she had had some minor cosmetic surgery, but that most of her appearance was natural, aided by the pills. "The original pills really reduced my sexual drive, and abilities" she said. "But I've found a new specialist. The hormones are enough to maintain my figure but with some new medication, I'm almost as sexually potent as I ever was. And while I love being a girl, I still get a lot of enjoyment from my penis. I wouldn't give that up for the world" "I wondered about that" I said. "I've heard about surgery to transform men into women. Have you ever thought about it?" "Jeff and I have discussed it. It some ways it would make life easier, but Jeff likes me the way I am, and, like I say, I get a lot of pleasure from having boy bits! So, no.. the operation's not for me. You'll have to decide whether it is for you, but I suggest you wait until you find a husband. He may have some ideas as well" I turned away, feeling a strange emptiness in my stomach. She had spoken so casually of a husband, as if it were not only normal, but inevitable. I buried myself in the exercises, working up a sweat which stained my leotards dark. After showering, I got dressed in a simple skirt and blouse combination, with a teddy, panties and bra, but no garterbelt or nylons. I wore short white cotton socks and a pair of loafers. I was adjusting the wig which Andrea had suggested I wear, while vowing to let my hair grow so that I didn't need to use a wig all the time in order to look like a girl, when I heard the front door open. "Hi honey. I'm home!" My palms were sweaty and my knees shaky. Andrea was the only person who had ever seen me dressed, and since she was physically like me, that somehow did not count. Now I was to be seen by a man. I knew that he already knew about me, and in fact had been instrumental in my development, but that didn't matter. I was about to be seen as a girl by a man! My anxieties were misplaced, as I must have somehow known. Jeff stood and looked me up and down, before breaking out into a huge smile and coming forward to embrace me. I felt myself melting into him in a way which would have terrified me a month earlier. Within a few minutes I was feeling as relaxed with Jeff as I had been with Andrea, and we were happily going over a girl's name for me. My first idea was Stephanie, but both Andrea and Jeff disapproved. "It's too much like Steve" Jeff explained. "You are not going to be Steve anymore. You are making a fresh start, as your own person. Steve is the label which your parents forced on you in order to make you believe that you were masculine. You need a name to reinforce your true nature" We finally settled on Clarisse. "It's an old-fashioned name, but there's nothing the least masculine about it" Andrea said delightedly. "Okay, then I'm Clarisse!" I said. They both hugged me, and kissed me. Jeff's kiss was a pleasant surprise. He smelt musky in comparison to Andrea, and his lips were dry and firm. Even though he had shaved that morning, I could feel bristles against my face when we kissed. My surprises were not over yet. Andrea announced that she and Jeff felt almost a parental responsibility for Clarisse and they intended to see that she got off to a good start in life. Given that I was still going to live most of the time as Steve, at least for a while, and that I was newly graduated, with lots of bills to pay and relatively little money, they were going to give me a wardrobe! I tried to protest, but Andrea was having none of it. "Clarisse, we're talking every girl's dream here! Unlimited shopping for wonderful clothes. Not just boring everyday clothes, but sexy, pretty, feminine girl clothes!" It occurred to me that it would be difficult to buy a lot of clothes without going out, and I wasn't sure I was ready for that. They reassured me. "These days you can buy anything on the Net. We'll get your measurements and go online. Anything that doesn't fit can be altered: I know a very good and discrete seamstress, who does all my work and who knows all about me. Or we just send it back. We'll deal only with stores I've bought from myself." Hours later, exhausted but happy, we logged off. I had not tried to keep track, but I suspect that Andrea had just spent about five thousand dollars on my new wardrobe! All to be delivered to their home, to avoid suspicion at my building and to reduce any embarrassment I might feel if I had to go pick it up at some courier's office. That was the start of my new life as Clarisse. I began spending all my weekends at Jeff and Andrea's place. My friendship with Jeff was strictly platonic, although I could tell from the pressure of his erection when he hugged me, which was every weekend, that he found me attractive as Clarisse. That helped boost my new self-image. Sex with Andrea remained exciting, even though limited to maybe once a month, when Jeff was away. I was placed on a strict diet and after a visit to Andrea's specialist, I started taking three little pills a day, and before long found that I needed less and less padding, either in my bra or over my buttocks. It was not long before Andrea had me going out with her while I was Clarisse. The first trips were at night, and very short, but I soon gained confidence. Andrea was a never- ending source of surprises. As my comfort level grew, so she stretched my horizons. She introduced me to a speech therapist who helped me learn to speak in a natural feminine manner. I practiced so much that my chief fear was that I would start talking that way at work, without even knowing it. In fact, seeing Jeff at work began to cause me problems, since I reacted to him so naturally as Clarisse. Then she introduced me to her hairdresser, a gay man who knew all about Andrea, and, of course, about me. He had one of the estheticians in the beauty parlor pierce my ears. I suspect that she was in on the secret, since real girls almost always have their ears pierced long before they reach their twenties, but she gave no indication that anything was unusual. All this time I lived as Steve during the week, although Clarisse often came out in the evenings. My weekends were virtually exclusively Clarisse's but while I was getting out, I had no social life outside of Jeff and Andrea. That changed one weekend. "Good morning, Clarisse" It was Andrea phoning on a Friday morning. She had called before I had got out of bed. I had reached for the telephone, noting with approval the way my arm had lost muscle and was now smooth and hairless. "Hi honey. What's up?" "You're still on for dinner tomorrow night?" "Of course. Unless I get a date first" We had begun joking about my lack of a social life. Both Andrea and Jeff had begun dropping hints that they thought it was time for Clarisse to become a little better known. "Well, I've got that covered, darling" I sat up, clutching the sheets around my now pert breasts. "What do you mean. I'm not ready." "Now hush, child. He won't hurt you. He's a wonderful man. I should know. He's my brother" "I didn't know you had a brother. Where's he from?" I was trying to avoid the idea of a date by pursuing this irrelevant line of questioning. "I'll tell you all about him tomorrow. Or maybe I'll let him tell you. Now wear your prettiest dress. I think that little black cocktail dress we bought last month. Have you worn it yet?" It was a divine little dress in black silk, which I had had altered earlier this week after it had been delivered to Andrea's house on Monday. And I had not worn it since I had picked it up from the seamstress. That day was chaotic. We had to make some changes to a customer order at the last minute. Perhaps it was just as well, since it gave me no time to fret. Friday evening was another story. Ordinarily I would have gone, as Clarisse, over to Jeff and Andrea's, as I did perhaps three weeks out of four. But Andrea had kindly but firmly told me not to come. Her brother was visiting, and I was not to meet him until tomorrow night. So I spent a stressful and nervous evening during the course of which I worried obsessively about what I would wear. Sure, the dress was just divine, but was it right for the occasion? Would I look too fat? Would my legs look okay? What shoes should I wear? Which purse should I choose? What about earrings? Men don't understand what we go through getting ready to look good for them. Andrea had arranged my Saturday afternoon for me. I had three hours at the beauty parlor, undergoing a painful waxing, having my hair permed and styled, my fingers and toes manicured and pedicured, my eyebrows shaped and dyed and a full facial, all paid for by my benefactor. She was going all out to make sure I looked good for her brother. I had never felt so pretty, and so feminine, as I dressed for the dinner. I carefully tucked my penis between my legs and secured my gaff. I had earlier showered and dusted myself with a non-scented talc. Now I selected my finest lingerie. Black silk and lace. The bra was lightly underwired to accentuate my cleavage. I no longer needed padding, but the uplift provided by the bra certainly helped, I thought as I looked at my reflection in the full length mirror I had purchased two months ago. My garter belt was in black as well, matching both my bra and my panties. It had small red flowered embroidered in lace above each garter, the tabs dangling down my thighs as I fastened the tiny hooks. My panties were high cut, and fitted snugly. No unsightly bulge was apparent, at most it appeared that my mound of Venus was prominent. No ugly male pubic hair straggled up my belly, I had emulated Andrea's habit of shaving it into an attractive, feminine triangle. The stockings were a delight to put on. Gossamer fabric, smoke-black, with a delicate pattern woven into the silk, they clung to my legs, emphasizing their perfect shape. My legs were my best feature, I thought smugly. I chose a short black slip, with a wide lace trim. A short slit ran along the side. I adjusted the spaghetti straps so that the bodice fit properly over my bra. Then it was time to put on my satin makeup jacket and get down to the serious business of making my face look adorable. It was dinner I was dressing for, so I knew that I could go all out. Yet at the same time, I had learned from Andrea how tempting and how wrong it was for a girl to go overboard. I had to walk a fine line between dramatic and sensual on the one hand and cheap and whorish on the other. Half and hour later I applied the final touch of lipgloss to my lips. Gazing at myself in the mirror I felt as if I had stepped outside of my body, as if I were looking at my reflection from a position just behind me, looking over my shoulder towards the mirror. Where was Steve? Nowhere. "My name is Clarisse. I am the girl I was born to be" I whispered the affirmation out loud. Pursing my lips, I blew myself a kiss and rose from my seat before the vanity. I recalled how a weight had lifted from my shoulders all those months ago when Jeff had followed me into the parking lot. A similar feeling filled me no as I donned my dress. I needed no wig tonight. My hair was my own, thicker than I would have believed possible. The little pills had helped me in so many ways. I checked my jewelry. Diamond earrings dangled from my ears, flashing in the light as I swung my head from side to side to gauge the effect. My new watch, yet another gift from Andrea, graced my left wrist, its slender supple gold bracelet framing its delicate oval face. I wore two rings, although none of course on the ring finger of my left hand. I put on the shoes I had chosen. They had moderate heels, less than three inches although by now I was perfectly at home in far higher heels. Black leather, with black satin inlays and small gold buckles, they were elegant and refined. I had thought of more provocative footwear, but these went so well with the dress. I grabbed my tiny purse, just big enough to hold my keys and identification. I sure hoped that I would not need my identification tonight, since it claimed that I was still Steve. The evening was early, and still warm, but I knew that it might get chilly later, so I chose a warm fur-lined wrap. I looked through the peephole in my door to make sure the coast was clear. Some of my neighbors had surely seen Clarisse before, but I kept very much to myself and if anyone had guessed, I hadn't heard about it. There was someone waiting for the elevator, so I delayed until the car had arrived and departed. Fortunately no-one appeared while I waited for the next one, which was empty all the way to the parking level. The clack of my heels on the concrete as I made my way to my car reassured me of my essence. Yes, I am Clarisse! Jeff answered the door. I could hear the familiar sound of jazz playing in the living room. We embraced briefly and then Jeff stood back. He shook his head admiringly. "Wow, Clarisse. It's a good thing I'm a married man!" I blushed as he helped me with my wrap. "Come on in, and I'll introduce you" Butterflies filled my stomach as I followed him into the living room. Andrea rose to greet me, giving me a brief hug and a peck on the cheek before turning to the man who stood beside her. "Clarisse, I would like you to meet my brother, Phil. Clarisse..Phil" Phil smiled at me and extended his hand. As I put mine out in response, he took hold of it and raised it to his lips, which gently brushed the back of my had as he smiled at me. "Clarisse, I am delighted to meet you. Andrea has told me how delightful you are. She said you were astonishingly beautiful. If anything, she has done you a disservice. You take my breath away!" The butterflies had exploded. My knees were turning to water. I could not take my eyes from his. I felt as if I were falling into an infinite pool. A poll where I could lose myself forever. Blood rushed through my ears and I felt light-headed. This was an incredibly handsome man. I felt myself falling in love already, and realized that until now I had lived only as a shadow of a woman. Here, in front of me, his appreciation of me shining in his eyes, stood the man who could bring Clarisse to her destiny. Well, dear readers, I will not trouble you, for now, with more of my story. Andrea knew what she was doing. P