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The Making of a Special Lady By Belle Gordon Chapter One When I graduated from university with a MBA, I was lucky to find employment with the firm of Aintree and Epsom, Investment Brokers. Actually they were two women in a small office in Marylebone. Jillian Epsom and Jennifer Aintree were in their mid forties and were devoted lesbians in a long-term relationship. (No baggy trousers or combat boots for Jill or Jenny though, they were lesbians of the 'lipstick' variety; it was strictly haute couture for these two). They had become very successful at what they did, hence my recruitment to cope with the expanding business. I later learned that, initially, they were reluctant to employ me as they really wanted a girl, but as industrial relations law forbade discrimination on the basis of gender. As I was the only applicant for the post, they reluctantly took me on. They were afraid I might be aggressive or antagonistic and would not fit in. However, they later confided that their misgivings were unfounded and I impressed them with my appearance and demeanour. My bearing has always been slightly effeminate. I unconsciously adopt feminine mannerisms when sitting, walking and talking and they liked that, they said. George Southall was their general factotum and would be my mentor. He was an amiable gentleman in his mid sixties who had come with the office. He took an instant liking to me and was always most helpful and considerate. He was from the old school of gent who always raised his hat to a lady, stood when someone entered a room and held doors open for them. He guided me through the workings of the office and showed me where things were stored. He was a great help to me when I started. When I wasn't too busy with my own work, I'd often go into his little room and help him with his filing and invoicing. I became close friends with Jill and Jenny and was often invited to their apartment for supper, (a privilege accorded to no other man) and, on one occasion when too much wine had been consumed, I was allowed to stay, sleeping on a sofa bed. I quickly made myself indispensable to the running of the business. I was responsible for the smooth day-to-day administration of the office as well as my duties as receptionist. Under the strict guidance and tutelage of Jill I had recently been allowed to make investments for clients of my own. Over the six months I'd been dealing, I'd been reasonably successful and had made a modest amount of money. One of my other duties was to run errands whenever required and today Jill had asked me to deliver a package to a company near Regents Park. On my way back I was stopped at a pedestrian crossing waiting for the green light to cross, when I happened to glance down the side street. A little way down was a shop belonging to a bespoke tailor, but what caught my eye were the white silk boxer shorts and singlet being displayed on a mannequin in the window. Seeing them reminded me that I had been planning to buy myself some new underwear, so on impulse I turned down the street and entered the shop. A tall man in a black suit, grey silk waistcoat, pink tie and a shock of grey hair looked up as I entered and said, "Good morning Sir. How can I help you?" "I noticed the boxer shorts in your window and thought I'd get a pair or two." He leant down and produced a tray from below the counter containing many pairs of shorts. "Certainly Sir. What size would Sir like?" he asked. "I'm not sure." "If Sir would kindly slip off his jacket I'll measure you." Since I'd been working for them, Jill and Jenny had encouraged me to acquire clothes that were more unisex and my wardrobe was gradually becoming more feminine. They frequently bought me items so that instead of cotton shirts, I now had polyester blouses or girl's t-shirts. In place of men's trousers I wore ladies slacks or jeans. Consequently, because I still felt a little self-conscious, whenever I left the office I wore a large baggy anorak with the hood pulled up to conceal whatever I happened to be wearing. So I paused momentarily before I revealed that under the coat I wore a cropped, apricot t- shirt with a scalloped neck and three quarter length sleeves and girl's hipster jeans with a wide black patent leather belt. As I exposed my garb to the tailor his eyebrows raised perhaps half a millimetre before he was once again all business , passing the tape measure round my bare midriff. "Waist twenty five inches. Hips, thirty six and bust thirty six, er, I mean chest." He sorted through the pile of shorts looking at size labels then handed me a pair. There was a slight tremble in my hands as I took the proffered article and felt the exotic material. The touch of the soft silky fabric evoked half forgotten childhood memories in me. He watched me closely as I caressed the soft material, running it between my fingers, and then stroking it against my cheek. I blushed when I realized what I had done and quickly dropped them back onto the counter top. "If Sir is interested we also stock a line of more, ah shall we say, delicate items of underwear. Perhaps Sir would care to see them?" "OK," I said, trying to sound casual and keep the growing excitement from my voice. He dipped down again and came up with a tray of colourful and frothy pieces. He selected a rose pink panty and laid it on the counter smoothing it flat. The hipster short had a ruffle of white lace around the leg openings and a tiny pink bow in the centre of the waistband. Alongside this he carefully laid a pair of bikini briefs, a thong g-string and an old-fashioned directoire knickers, all adorned with lace and bows. "But surely these and women's panties?" "Oh no, Sir. They are from our range of what we call 'Gentlemen's Lingerie'." I was open mouthed in wonder at the amazing selection of knickers in front of me. My eyes skipped from the long-legged pantaloons to the briefs, the thongs and g-strings, hardly believing what I was looking at. "You mean men wear these?" I asked incredulously. "Oh yes, Sir. They are very popular and in great demand. I myself have a preference for these." He said, indicating a tiny lacy bikini brief. "Well in that case, I'll take three pair." I decided. "Very good, Sir. Which colours do you prefer?" "I'll have these," I said, selecting the rose pink French knicker short, "a blue pair and a black pair." My mouth was beginning to feel dry with my suppressed excitement. I was tempted to buy more but decided I could always come back. "Of course, Sir." As he carefully folded them he asked, "Would Sir be interested in purchasing a matching singlet to go with your drawers?" "Maybe." Trying to sound nonchalant. Up came a third tray from below the counter. He sorted through them then lifted one with the dainty shoulder straps hooked on his outstretched index fingers. It was without doubt a ladies camisole and matched the rose pink panties. The bottom edge was trimmed with a lace frill; there was also a lacy detail at the bust and little pink satin roses where the shoulder straps attached to the bodice. It was a beautiful thing and together with the panties would please any woman. "These are very popular, Sir. I'm sure you will enjoy wearing them." "OK, I'll take them." I said quickly before my voice failed me. I could feel my excitement mounting and a stirring in my groin. "Excellent, Sir." I handed him my plastic, hoping I had enough credit left to cover the cost. He carefully folded the items, wrapped them in tissue paper and put them in a box tied with a pink satin ribbon. When he handed me the box I was somewhat nonplussed to see printed in bold letters across the front. 'Janus Tailors. Purveyors of fine Gentlemen's Lingerie' "Perhaps you would have a bag I could put this in?" I asked. "Of course, Sir." He passed over a brown paper carrier bag and I slipped the box inside. As I turned to leave he said, "If Sir is interested, we also carry an extensive range of gentlemen's corsetry and foundation garments. I have enclosed my card should you wish to make a private appointment. I would be happy to arrange a personal fitting. And remember, discretion is paramount in all our dealings. "Thank you." I said. "I'll remember." Chapter Two As I was hanging up my anorak on my return to the office I heard Jill shout "Hey Jenny, Pauline's been shopping." They had begun calling me Pauline (my name is Paul Newbury) after I'd answered the telephone to a client and the caller had assumed I was a girl. Over the time I'd been with them I'd unconsciously been adopting a softer, higher pitched manner of speaking. "Hi Jen. Who's your new girl?" I heard a voice ask. "That's Pauline." She answered without a second's hesitation. "She's a treasure. She's been with us for a while now and I don't know how we'd manage without her." And since that day I had been Pauline and was always referred to as she and her. I didn't really mind so long as it stayed in the office. As it was I felt I was slowly becoming more of a Pauline that a Paul. "Let's see what you've bought." She said withdrawing the box. "Ooo, what have we here? Gentlemen's Lingerie indeed." Jenny had joined us as Jill quickly undid the ribbon and opened the box, spilling the contents onto my desk. "O, Wow!" they both exclaimed, picking up panties and camisoles with both hands. "These are fabulous." Jenny cried. "Are they a present for some lucky girl? Or are they for yourself? George, come and see what Pauline's been buying." I shyly admitted that I had bought them for myself and told them about the shop. They were intrigued and thought it was a wonderful idea ? lingerie for gentlemen. "You must put one on." Jill announced. "This one, its such a gorgeous pink." She passed over the rose camisole she had been holding up to her front and admiring. "I don't think I should, really." I started to protest. "Nonsense. You can't keep them hidden away for yourself, besides there's only us here, and I'm sure you're dying to try it on." "Well, OK then," I relented. "But you must promise not to laugh." And with that Jenny grabbed the hem of my tee shirt and with one upward sweep had it over my head. I stood there for a moment with by arms in the air, displaying my hairless chest and armpits, before I folded my arms across my front mimicking a girl trying to hide her breasts. "Oh, look at the little sissy," Jill said. "Trying to hide her little titties. Here you are, arms up." They often teased me in this manner, but it was without malice so I didn't really mind. I raised my arms again and she slipped the camisole over my head. The silk felt wonderful as it slid down my body. I adjusted the spaghetti thin shoulder straps and smoothed it down my chest, settling the bust over my non-existent breasts. I replaced my t-shirt but noticed that the cami straps were clearly visible in the scalloped neck. The two girls had closely watched me as I fiddled with the straps and got it fitted properly. George, who had quietly entered the room, was watching me with an indulgent smile on his lips "You're a natural." Announced Jenny. "You look as though you have been wearing lingerie all you life. Have you?" "No, I've not. This is the first time." I said. For the remainder of the day I worked happily in my new camisole. I was very aware of the soft silky caress of the material on my body, and when five o'clock came around I was reluctant to take it off. I asked Jenny if she thought I should remove it, especially as the shoulder straps were so evident. "Wear it." She said promptly. "You bought it to wear, so do so. And it looks lovely on you. Just a pity you don't have any tits to fill it." She gave me a wink as she made this last remark to let me know she was only teasing. But if I were to be honest with myself I would love to have breasts. I did not know how I could achieve this other than to take large doses of female hormones and I definitely didn't want to do that. If I could afford the cost I could perhaps get implants, but for a man to get breast implants I could foresee enormous difficulties. And by the evidence of certain Internet web sites, they often turned out to be gross, misshapen appendages with tiny male nipples. A third alternative was to purchase breast forms. Granted some were very realistic looking but they still never quite worked. As it was I was happy the way things were, living my single, feminised life and dreaming about having womanly breasts. Chapter Three On Sundays my usual routine was to rise early, jog to Hyde Park and run twice around before it became too crowded. On the way back to my flat I'd buy the Sunday papers. Then I'd run a hot bath, putting in lashings of bubbles and scented oils. While the bath filled I'd step into the shower for my weekly hair depilation. I didn't really need to do this, as being half Filipino, (and as with most Asians); I had very little body hair to start with and almost none on my face. It was mainly my underarms and pubic area that need treatment but I still smothered my entire body with a propriety brand of a hair removing gel, waited the required time then showered it off. This routine together with regular applications of moisturizing creams kept my skin in a beautifully soft condition. And I loved the smooth clean feeling being hair free gave me. After a long soak I reluctantly I got from the bath and drained the water. I towelled off and applied a generous dusting of mimosa-scented talcum powder. I selected the baby blue panties with the beige lace trim, pulled them up my legs and nestled my awakening penis into a comfortable position. I followed this with the matching camisole and then an old satin bathrobe. (One of the few things my mother had forgotten to take when she'd gone to Edinburgh to live with an old friend and I'd moved into my apartment.) I decided my toenails needed painting as they hadn't been done for a while and most of the colour had flaked off. I usually did this about once a month simply because I liked the look of bright red toenails whenever I took my socks and shoes off. When they were dry I slipped my feet into a pair of leather flip-flops and admired to effect. I'm cursed with unusually small feet and find it very difficult to get men's shoes that fit, which means I generally have to buy children's or women's. Boys' shoes are usually ugly and unstylish (except for trainers) so I often buy ladies low-heeled Oxford slip-ons. I have three pairs. I poured myself a glass of orange juice and settled down to read the newspapers. I curled my legs up under me and settled a cushion on my lap. (Another feminine mannerism I'd unconsciously adopted). Perusing the Sunday Times, a small advertisement in the Encounters section caught my eye. Under Men seeking Men it read: - Assertive, Professional, good-looking masculine male, 50's, WLTM feminine, attractive male to be pampered and be my special lady. It was followed by a phone and voicebox number. I thought about the ad for a while, wondering what it was all about. I was intrigued by the prospect of being pampered. I met his other criteria, too, in that I was male, reasonably attractive, and as Jill and Jenny were always reminding me, I looked feminine. I was frequently mistaken for a girl. I didn't want to dwell on what 'and be my special lady' meant. I was bored and feeling lonely, the day had turned wet and the flat was depressing, so I decided to call. I dialled the number and when the voicebox answered I simply said, "Hi, I saw your notice in the paper and would be interested in meeting you. Please email me." I told him my address and hung up. I didn't really expect to hear anything more so was quite surprised when I checked my email later in the day and found a reply. Hi. Thank you for answering. My name is Nicholas (Nick) Haydock and I live in central London. If you think you fill the requirements in the ad I'd love to meet you. I could possibly travel to meet you but my commitments would make it very difficult. I would prefer you to come to me. Let me know if you are interested. Nick I hit the reply button. Hi Nick, Getting to central London is no problem as I live in Paddington. My name is Paul Newbury; I shall be free next weekend. Paul. I had a reply almost immediately. Hi Paul. Great! I shall be in the bar of the Queens Hotel in Knightsbridge between one and two on Saturday afternoon. I will wear a dark blue pinstripe suit with a rose bud in the lapel. And just to make sure you recognize me I'll be carrying a parcel tried with a yellow ribbon. Look forward to meeting you. Nick." Chapter Four By the age of twenty-two I knew I wasn't going to get any bigger, (except in weight if I didn't watch my diet) so I had resigned myself to being small. I had inherited my small stature from my mother who was born in the Philippines. My natural father, whom I never knew, had been a sailor in the Royal Navy. He had seduced Mummy when she was young and hungry, then had disappeared when his ship sailed and she had been left to care for a baby on her own. Being an orphan and with no family to turn to for help, she had approached to one of the many introduction agencies that provide European men with Asian wives. An introduction was arranged with Edwin Newbury, an elderly man who had recently retired from the civil service. A life long bachelor he had decided that now that he was growing older he needed a companion and someone to look after him. He not only took on the responsibility of a young wife but also adopted me and gave me his name. Being thirty years her senior was not a problem for mummy, as her only requirement was for someone to provide for herself and her child, so for the next ten years they lived happily enough together. Edwin Newbury died peacefully in his sleep at the age of seventy-five. He left mummy the house and little else, but she was comfortable enough. An accomplished seamstress and dressmaker (a skill she had taught me) she made a reasonable living from private commissions. It was when helping her as a child with this work that I discovered a liking for soft, silky materials and a love of fine clothing. I was often required to assist her when she needed an extra pair of hands and, as she didn't own a dressmakers dummy, I was sometimes employed as one when she needed to pin up hems, et cetera. I became quite skilful with a sewing machine and I began making things for myself. As a child of four I made myself a chemise from a piece of satin that was left over from a dress. Mummy was delighted that I'd managed to make something and that I loved to wear it. She began making me clothes from left over scraps of silks and satins. As the off-cuts were usually small pieces she mostly made me items of underwear. When having finished her latest creation and I'd declared my love of it, she'd tell me confidentially that really they were the sort of things that only girls wore, but she didn't see why they should have all the fun. Edwin viewed all of this with a benign detachment that I'm sure he put down to our Asian origins. Throughout my childhood I dressed in underwear she made. She loved thinking up designs and making delicate little panties and shifts. Her creations, however, got more and more outrageous. She began by adding little bits of lace, a tiny bow, and then a frill or a ribbon, till in the end she was producing extravagantly frothy garments. I was always eager to try her latest creations and she in turn derived enormous pleasure from making them. She'd make me parade around the room modelling them and urging me to take little mincing steps, not large ungraceful strides. I was, of course, too young to understand the fetish implications of all this and, although I derived a warm pleasant feeling from wearing them, there was nothing sexual involved. It had to end of course. Edwin Newbury had not been a wealthy man but he did provide for my education and at the age of twelve I was packed off to boarding school, which meant wearing a uniform. So that was the end of my time in fancy underwear. But not my love of it. These childhood memories had been evoked by the wording in the personal ad I'd replied to. The subsequent emails made me to wonder just what exactly I was getting into. I decided that extreme caution was needed and I would endeavour to discover what I could about Nick before - and if - I met him. Chapter Five I entered the bar of the Queens Hotel a little before noon on the Saturday of our rendezvous. It was a small boutique hotel in Wilton Place off Knightsbridge and I suspected it was a favourite with the gay community. I'd visited the place the previous day and checked it out, deciding where to position myself so that I could see the whole room and yet be unobserved. I had no intention of actually meeting him today but wanted to get a good look at him. I ordered a pot of tea and settled myself in a corner where a large, gilt framed mirror gave me a perfect view of the room without having to face it. I dressed as nondescriptly as possible in brown cord trousers, polo shirt and a grey hoodie. I'd gathered my hair up under a NY baseball cap. I poured my tea, opened the newspaper I'd brought with me and settled down to wait. He arrived at five minutes to one and I had no doubt that it was he. The blue pinstripe suit was beautifully tailored and fit to perfection. The pink rose bud added an element of sophistication that set him apart from the other patrons. He had a commanding air that brought the waiter scurrying over to him as soon as he sat and took his order for a glass of red wine. I guessed he stood about six feet and had the physique that indicated he worked out regularly. His hair was greying at the temples but was full. His facial features were what are often described at rugged. His strong jaw was clean-shaven; he had a straight nose and cornflower blue eyes. As I surreptitiously studied him I was surprised to feel an attraction to him. My heart rate had jumped and I could feel a stirring in my loins. I knew I was blushing. On only one previous occasion had I felt an attraction to another man and that had been a childhood crush for a teacher; an experience I had considered the normal part of growing up and something I had left behind. But I had never considered being physical with an adult male. As I watched him I wondered what it would be like to be held in his strong arms and made love to by this handsome man. I even speculated on the size of his penis and what it would feel like to hold. I was even more surprised to find that these guilty, erotic thoughts had brought my own cock to straining attention in my trousers. What was this effect he was having on me? I didn't think I was gay, in fact I was still a virgin, so why was I fantasising about him? I blushed further when, at that moment he looked in my direction, our eyes made momentary contact in the mirror. He held my gaze till I was forced to look away and I knew that he knew I was staring at him. I was quite flustered and concentrated on my newspaper till I dared look again and was relieved to see he was looking in another direction. I decided I should leave and wait outside. As unobtrusively as possible I adjusted my erection so as not to make it too obvious, finished my tea, and casually walked from the room. I found a convenient doorway on the opposite side of the street and waited. About a half hour later he emerged, looked both ways, then strode off towards Hyde Park Corner. I followed; trying to remember what the spies did in the novels I'd read when tailing a suspect. I need not have worried, as he never looked back. He walked up Park Lane and tuned into Curzon Street. After a short distance he mounted a short flight of steps and entered a building. I waited a little while then crossed the street and entered the lobby. I looked around. An elevator faced the door and to the left, gated stairs led upwards. To the right, set into the wall, were a row of doorbells with intercom speakers and each tenants name beside it. The top floor apartment belonged to Nicholas J. Haydock. I got the tube back to Paddington and walked to my flat in Westbourne Terrace. I found the tattered telephone directory, from which, fortunately the relevant page of has not been torn, and discovered Nick was listed with both his home number and also his office. I punched the apartment number into my mobile and waited while my call was diverted to his message minder. "Hi Nick, this is Paul Newbury. I'm so sorry I missed you, I'm afraid I was unavoidably delayed. I went to the hotel but you had gone. Would you like to arrange another meeting? Please email if you'd like to." I made myself a cup of coffee, went to my computer and opened my email. My inbox showed one new message. I clicked the icon and read: - Hi Paul, I was sorry to miss you too. Are you free tomorrow? We could meet in the same place at the same time. I'll dress the same. We could have lunch together. Nick. I clicked on the reply button. Would love to have lunch. See you tomorrow. Paul. Chapter Six I rose early the next morning and went for my usual Sunday morning run. After my customary depilation I soaked for a long time in a hot bath, scented with a generous measure of bath oil and thought about what I should wear. If Nick was wearing a suit then I also should be smart. I owned a blue velvet tailored jacket that had originally been part of a woman's business suit that would be suitable. My white silk blouse-type shirt went well with anything and luckily was clean. I decided that I shouldn't wear jeans as they were too informal. I rejected my skin-tight black velour ski pants; the type with the loop that goes under the foot. The elasticised waist tended to pull them tightly over my bottom and, because the front had no fly, my package was prominently displayed. So instead I chose a pair of light grey worsted slacks cropped at mid calf with a slight flare. As a finishing touch I added a floral chiffon Hermes scarf. I debated whether to wear my favourite rose-pink panties and camisole or not and decided I would as nothing made me feel more feminine. Having decided on my ensemble, I turned my attention to my hair. I washed and conditioned it then carefully blow-dried it. I combed it into a style that framed my face with a parting down the middle and spreading around my shoulders. Satisfied with the effect, I dressed. The jacket fitted me perfectly. I folded the collar of my blouse outside the collar of the jacket and knotted the scarf in a floppy bow about my neck. I reckoned I looked pretty good. With my feet in the leather flip-flops I reckoned I'd achieved just the right degree of femininity, but not enough to be taken for a foppish sissy. At this time of the day the tube wasn't too crowded and I took a seat in the first carriage. I sat with my knees and ankles together and my hands folded in my lap and assumed the zombie- like attitude of most tube travellers. After a while I became conscious that the man sitting opposite was staring at me. When I looked at him he winked at me and pursed his lips blowing me a kiss. I immediately dropped my eyes and looked at my feet. To my horror realised that I had forgotten to remove the bright red nail polish from my toenails. I felt the heat rising rapidly up my neck and suffusing my face in a pink blush. Luckily the train was slowing for my stop and, as I stood to leave, the man leered at me and pushed his tongue rapidly in and out of his mouth in an obscene gesture. I regained my composure during the walk from the tube station to the hotel. There was nothing I could do about my toenails so I put it out of my mind. I timed my arrival for a little after one-o'clock and spotted Nick sitting in the same position as he had yesterday. I walked up to him and said, "Hello, you must be Nick. I'm Paul." He stood and held out his hand to me. I took it and his strong fingers encircled my small limp hand. "Hello, Paul. It's lovely to meet you. What will you have to drink?" "An Evian water will be fine, thank you." I was a little nervous to begin with but quickly relaxed. Nick was easy to talk to and we were soon in deep conversation. Over lunch he told me about himself and that he was a successful businessman with an office in Grosvenor Square. "Paul," he said, "before we go any further with this there's something that I must make very clear. I would prefer to keep the fact that I am a homosexual as quiet as possible. I don't want it to become public knowledge that I'm gay as it could cause problems. If my father knew it would probably kill him, so the fewer people who know about me the better. So if this relationship is to progress I must insist that you be as discrete as possible." "Of course, Nick. You have my word." When I gave him my assurance he reached across the table and squeezed my hand. Electric sparks seemed to tingle up my arm and I didn't want him to release it. "Good." He said. "I'm sure this is going to work out well for both of us." After lunch, as we walked in Kensington Gardens, I asked him, "What exactly do you mean when you say you want someone to be your special lady?" "I'll explain everything later when we know each other better. But in the meantime, if you'll allow me, I'd like to give you an occasional present. "OK. I always enjoy getting presents." He handed me the box tied with the yellow ribbon he'd been carrying and said, " I bought this for you. I hope you like it." We sat together on a bench and I carefully opened the lid. Nestling in the black velvet interior was a beautiful lady's gold watch. Tiny diamonds encircled the face and the strap was intricately woven gold links. It was beautiful; made by Raymond Weil - it must have cost a fortune. I gasped as I looked at it and Nick thought I disapproved. "I'm sorry," he said. "I should not have presumed you would like it. Let me take it back and we shall say no more about it." "Oh no," I quickly replied, "I think it's lovely. It was a bit of a surprise is all. I can't possibly accept it though." ""Why ever not?" he asked. "Because it's far too expensive, and on our first meeting it is too over the top." "Think nothing of the expense. I really want to give you a present to show you I appreciate your coming and meeting me." "OK then, if you're sure." I relented. He removed the watch from its case and I held up my wrist. He gently fixed it round my arm. It was beautiful, so small and delicate, the diamonds sparkled as I moved and they caught the light. "Thank you so much." I gushed. Then I spontaneously leant over, threw my arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. I'm not sure who was the more surprised. Nick grinned when he saw my flustered state. "I'm sorry I shouldn't have done that. Please forgive me." I stammered. "That was the nicest thank you anyone could have given me. Come on, it's time we went." We made our way out onto the Bayswater Road and I had a sudden urge to link arms with him. As we reached Lancaster Gate tube station he asked, "Would you like to meet again?" "Yes, I'd love to. I've really enjoyed today. The lunch was excellent and I love the present you gave me." "I'm afraid I'm not free again till next weekend. How about Saturday? We could go for a drive to the country." I nodded my agreement and he continued, "Great! Be here at nine thirty and I'll pick you up." We parted then and I went home buoyed up in spirits like never before. I felt I was walking on air. To employ that overused clich?, my heart was singing. I was in love. Chapter Seven The girls immediately picked up my good humour when they arrived at the office next morning. "Someone seems very happy this morning." Jill said. "Tell us what's put you in such a good mood." Although I'd promised Nick I'd be discrete regarding our relationship I didn't feel I could exclude my two closest friends, so I told them what I'd done. They naturally wanted all the details; what was he like, where did he live et cetera. I told them what I knew, which wasn't an awful lot when it came to listing details. "He gave me this." I said, holding up my arm to show them the wristwatch. "My God!" exclaimed Jenny studying the timepiece closely. "It must have cost an absolute fortune." While Jenny was admiring my watch Jill had disappeared into her own room, and reappeared shortly afterwards carrying a magazine. "I knew I'd heard the name before," she said, "he's listed here in this directory of business leaders, listen. 'Nicholas J. Haydock, founder and CEO of Haydock Pharmaceuticals. Producers of the highly successful Zanildaptin the most widely used drug in the fight against AIDS and the Viagra derivative Kolomex. His corporation is also responsible for many well-known high street remedies for the treatment of the common cold, headaches and indigestion. He operates a research facility in Cambridge and has factories in Cardiff and Merthyr Tydfil. His estimated net worth is thought to be in the region of - wait for it - three hundred and fifty million dollars'. Looks like you've hit the jackpot, sweetie." "Bloody hell." Jenny whispered. I was speechless. "When are you seeing him again?" Jill enquired. "Next Saturday, he's taking me for a drive in the country." "Well we'd better do something with your hair before then." "What's wrong with my hair?" I bristled. "I'm not getting it cut." "No one said you should. But you need to get it tidied up and you have a lot of split ends that need removing. If you like I'll get my friend Barbara to call in at lunchtime, she's a hairdresser and she owes me a favour." "Ok. But she's not to cut it short." I have always worn my hair as long as I could get away with. Even when the fashion was for shaved heads and buzz cuts I kept mine long. In infants school long hair was regarded as cute, but not so in secondary school, but I was still somehow able to keep it at least collar length. When I moved on to college I let it grow even longer and tied it back in a ponytail. I had inherited the hair gene from my mother, like hers mine was thick and heavy, a lustrous dark auburn colour. From as early as I can remember she had made sure that I took proper care for it, washing it daily with good shampoos and conditioners. I loved my hair and the thought of getting it cut short filled me with horror. Work resumed and I was soon immersed in the business of the day. I was surprised when the street door buzzed and I saw it was nearly one o'clock. I answered the intercom and a tinny voice said it was Barbara Kempton. I released the lock and a few minutes later she entered the room. "Hi," she said, "Jill said I was to come and trim Pauline's hair. Where is she?" "That's me." I said feeling slightly embarrassed. "My name is Paul really, but the girls always call me Pauline." "I can understand why they do. You're very pretty." I blushed scarlet, but was never the less flattered. She immediately got down to business setting out her equipment; scissors, combs, brushes, a bag of plastic rollers, an industrial size hairdryer and a nylon sheet. "Pull your chair over here by the window where there's more light, and you'd better remove your top off so it doesn't get messed up." I did as she ordered, scooting the chair backwards on its rollers, at the same time removing my top. Today I worn a simple cerise cotton jersey top with long bell-shaped sleeves, and it was only as I pulled it over my head I remembered I was also wearing my pink camisole. "That's very nice," Barbara, said, "do you always wear women's underwear? It doesn't matter if you do," she hastily added before I could respond, "I've no problem with it. In fact several of my private clients have similar tastes. I regard it as a compliment to womankind that men want to wear our clothes. It's curious that women can happily wear any item of male clothing without anyone raising an eyebrow, but if a man wants to dress in our things there's a scandal." She chattered on non-stop, not expecting or giving me an opportunity to answer. She swathed the cape round my upper body and fixed it at the back of my neck. I was a little alarmed when I saw the amount of hair that was falling to the floor, but she ignored my protests, saying it was only the ragged ends. Half an hour latter she declared the job completed. "You have beautiful hair, Pauline, you obviously take very good care of it. I'd love to style it properly and perhaps give you a perm to really show it off." "Thank you, Barbara, some other time perhaps. Can I see it?" She released me from the protective sheet and I walked over to the mirror that hangs beside the entrance door. I loved it. She had trimmed and shaped it so that the back was curled under and the side bangs hung forward framing my face. She'd also straightened my fringe and cut it to about an inch above my eyebrows. "You don't think it's a bit girly, do you?" I asked as I turned my head from side to side, watching the heavy hair sway. "Not at all, pet. It's a perfect style for you face shape. Now remember if you want to get the full treatment I'll leave my card and you can make an appointment. I'll even throw in a manicure." She packed her things and was gone before I have time to ask her about the cost. Chapter Eight The remainder of the week seem to drag on interminably; I couldn't wait for Saturday. I considered texting or emailing but knowing what I now did about his business I didn't think it would be a good idea. I went to work each day but found it hard to concentrate, images of Nick kept filling my mind. On Friday evening when I arrived home I was delighted to find an email waiting: - My Dear Paul, I hope you are still willing to meet again tomorrow? I am very much looking forward to seeing you again. Love, Nick. On my way home on the same evening that Barbara had cut my hair, I'd stopped at a little charity shop near my apartment and purchased a new blouse. The woman who ran it was a sweet old lady with failing eyesight but I was still a little nervous going in. Luckily there were no other customers and the old lady appeared quite unconcerned as I sorted through the rail of dresses, skirts and tops. The one I selected was white silk with a motif of tiny pink roses and a ruffle of lace down the front concealing the buttons. It had full balloon sleeves fastened with three fabric-covered buttons at the cuffs and a Peter Pan collar. "That's a very pretty blouse you've chosen," she said as I handed it to her. "If you'd like to try it on there's a changing room in the back." "Oh, no thank you. I'm sure it will fit." I said, assuming I'd been mistaken for a girl again. I did try it on when I got home, however, and immediately realized that whatever camisole I wore underneath would be visible through the thin material. The next evening meant a diversion to Janus Tailors, Bespoke Gentlemen's Outfitters, where the same unctuous attendant no only sold me a white silk panty and cami but also a beautiful peach full length nightgown and negligee, or as he described it, gentlemen's night attire. When Saturday finally arrived I arose early filled with a feeling of anticipation and excitement. After showering and dusting my body with the sweet smelling mimosa talc, I slipped the newly acquired white panties up my legs, followed by the matching cami. I slipped my arms into the sleeves of the blouse and buttoned the cuffs. I was intensely aware of how sensitive my skin was; the gentle caress of the fabric gave me goose bumps down my arms. The soft whispery hiss of silk on silk was heavenly. I pulled on my hipsters then I pushed my sock-less feet into a pair of black slip-on Oxfords. I wore the velvet jacket again and was pleased that it matched my blouse. I got the tube to Lancaster Gate and was waiting on the footpath when a large black Lexus LS460 pulled into the kerb. The door opened and I slid into the leather passenger seat. Nick was smiling broadly and looking devastatingly handsome in a casual sports jacket, open-necked shirt and jeans. "Hi," he said, "it's good to see you again." "Hello, Nick. It's nice to see you too." As we were held at traffic lights in the Edgware Road, Nick turned to me and said, "I hope you don't mind me saying this, but you look absolutely lovely. I love your top and your hair is so nice. Have you had it styled?" "Why thank you kind sir," I replied. "Flattery will get you just about anything. And no I haven't had my hair styled, just trimmed a little." He drove easily and confidently and we were soon speeding along the M40 towards Oxford. We chatted away as we left the sprawl of London behind and headed into the countryside. Our talk was mostly about inconsequential things, but he loaded me with frequent compliments about the way I was dressed, my hair, my looks, and how many 'real' girls would love to look like me. "But I'm not a girl, Nick, you know that." I felt I had to correct him when he began comparing me to generic women. "Of course I know you're not a true girl, but you could quite easily become a very stunning imitation of one." "Do you really think so?" I asked. "Yes, most definitely. With the correct guidance, the right clothes and bit of make-up, no one would ever know the difference. I could help you if you wanted." "I don't know what to say." I said. "It's true that I prefer slightly effeminate clothes, but I have never considered going all the way and dressing as a girl. What would people think?" "If they didn't know you were a boy they'd think you were a lovely young woman." "You know what? It might be fun to try, so long as I wasn't found out." I said, offering a silent prayer that I wasn't getting into something sordid or humiliating, that might even be dangerous. "To help you make up you mind I have a present for you." He said. "Reach over, it's on the back seat." I swivelled round in my seat and retrieved a gift-wrapped small flat box. "Before you open it I want you to understand that this is purely a gift, and not in any way an inducement. If you feel you cannot accept it that's perfectly OK, but I would love you to have it." I nodded my head in agreement wondering what on earth it could be. I carefully removed the wrapping, gingerly pushed down on the clasp and slowly raised the lid. Inside were a double strand pearl necklace and two enormous pearl drop earrings. "Oh Nick," I exclaimed. "They're beautiful. Thank you so much." Knowing what he was worth I didn't consider for a moment what they would have cost. Whatever the price it would be peanuts to a man of his wealth. "But I can't wear these." "Why ever not?" "Well these are for a woman. And anyway, my ears are not pierced." I added lamely. Just then we arrived at Cherwell Valley services and Nick pulled up to the petrol pumps. "That's not a problem. While I fill up the car, you go inside where I happen to know there is a jeweller who will pierce your ears. "Do you think I should? Won't he think it strange for a boy to get both his ear pierced?" I said. "Of course he won't. Boys get their ears pierced all the time nowadays. Nothing strange in that." I hurried inside and located the jeweller. As Nick had said the man never made a comment, simply sterilized each lobe, stabbed a hole through it and inserted a small gold ring. Piece of cake, and not very painful. Nick arrived as I was examining his work in a small hand mirror and paid the man. When we returned to the car Nick took the necklace from its box and fastened it round my neck. It was out of sight inside my shirt but I was acutely aware of the weight of the pearls. "At least you can wear these whilst your ears are healing." We spent the day touring the Cotswolds. Admiring the lovely stone cottages in the quaint little villages. We stopped for a leisurely lunch at a pub in Lower Slaughter before heading over to Stratford-upon-Avon where we joined the throngs of tourists looking at Shakespeare's birthplace, the river and the theatre. As we walked down Bridge Street Nick suddenly disappeared into a shop and reappeared a few minutes later with a single red rose, which he gallantly presented to me, to my utter mortification. He was always very attentive, constantly asking if I was comfortable, did I need anything; was there anything I wanted to do? I was almost overwhelmed by the attention. It was late in the evening when we arrived back in London and he left me near my flat. I thanked him for the lovely day and asked if we would meet again. "I'm afraid I have to go to the United States for the next two weeks on business, but as soon as I get back I'll call you." "Oh. OK," I said, unable to keep the disappointment from my voice. Chapter Nine On Monday morning the first thing the girls wanted to know was what had happened and had he given me a present. I described our day out and then showed them the necklace and earrings. "Oh they are so beautiful." was Jill's verdict. "But these are for pierced ears." "I know." And pulled my hair back so show them the gold rings in my lobes. "You got your ears pierced!" Jenny squealed. "That is so cool." The following Sunday, after my usual routine of run, hair removal and long soak, I reckoned my ears had healed sufficiently to remove the sleepers. I had been dying to try the pearls but I had diligently followed the advice of the jeweller to keep the wounds clean and swabbed with disinfectant and not to rush things. When I pushed the hook through the hole the unaccustomed weight felt very strange but they looked wonderful. I put on the necklace and my little jewelled watch then admired myself in the mirror. For the remainder of the day I lazed about the flat dressed in panties, cami, my newly purchased negligee and my stunning pearls. It was heavenly and I was disappointed when I had to remove them before going to bed. On Wednesday I received an email from Nick stating that he would be arriving back in the UK on Thursday and hoping I would be free to see him on Saturday as he had something very important that he wished to discuss with me. Another visit to the charity shop had yielded a rather nice blue suede jacket with two front patch pocket and four large buttons. I'd also found a pair of soft crepe, navy-blue slacks with a matching eyelet belt. Under the jacket I wore a scoop necked white tee shirt. I was afraid to wear the necklace or earrings as they would be too obvious but I did wear my watch. I decided I looked perfect, just the right amount of femininity to be androgynous. We agreed to meet at the Wellington Arch at two o'clock. As I came out of Hyde Park Corner tube station I saw him waiting. He was smiling hugely as he watched my approach and when we met I spontaneously went up on my toes and kissed him on the lips. We were both a bit embarrassed by my gesture and for a few seconds neither of us quite knew what to do, then Nick burst out laughing and the tension was gone. I joined his infection laughter giggling like a girl, clasped his arm and began walking. We strolled round Green Park crossed The Mall and walked in St. James's Park stopping occasionally on a bench to rest. We talked incessantly, but I cannot remember a single thing we said. We were just so happy in each other's company. At about five Nick suggested we start making our way back. As we came onto Piccadilly he asked if I'd like to go to his apartment. "We can have some supper and a drink. I have a very nice bottle of a seventy-two Chateau Talbot I have been saving for a special occasion. And I have something important I want to discuss with you." "I'd love to," I replied, hoping I didn't sound too eager. We soon arrived in Curzon Street and Nick punched his code into the keypad that opened the lift. His apartment was huge, covering the entire top floor of the building. He gave me the tour, starting in the enormous lounge with the giant TV and sound system. The kitchen with every appliance one would ever need. The master bedroom decorated in masculine browns and rugged furniture. And finally the second bedroom tastefully done up in soft pastels, pinks and whites. It was very obviously a woman's room. He noticed my puzzlement and explained that it was his ex-wife's. "She took off when she discovered I was gay. Left everything behind and has never been back. The divorce cost me a small fortune, but I'm happier without her." After a superb cold supper of smoked salmon, salad and fresh baked bread we sat together of the couch sipping the remains of the Bordeaux. Nick carefully placed his wine glass on the coffee table, turned toward me and said. "Paul, I want to put a proposition to you. But please hear me out before you make any response." He held his hand up to stop me saying anything, then went on. "Do you remember on our first date I mentioned the importance of discretion and the problems my homosexuality could cause if it becomes public knowledge?" I nodded agreement. "Well, what I need is a partner. Someone I can confidently be seen in public with, and whom I can escort to whatever functions I need to attend, et cetera. That person will not only have to appear to be an attractive woman, not someone who looks vaguely feminine, but also be able to stand close inspection. It will have to be someone who is totally convincing in the role and who is willing to live this way full time. To achieve this deception I'll need someone who is willing to masquerade as a female, to dress and live the life of a girl on a permanent basis. Now Paul, this is where you come in. I want you to be that person. It will be a big step for you to take and I will understand if you want some time to decide." I was flabbergasted by his proposal. "Are you saying you want me to undergo some sort of an operation and be changed into a girl?" "No nothing like that. There will no permanent physical changes. If you ever want to stop doing it all you'll have to do is change back into male clothes and maybe get your hair cut." "But why?" "Because, Paul, I have fallen in love with you and this is the only way I can be with you. And believe me, I do want to be with you ? all the time. I want you to be a part of my life. I want it to be you I'm seeing when I close my eyes at night and you when I open them again in the morning and all the time in between." "Oh, Nick. That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. I love you too. These last weeks have been the happiest of my life. But what about my work, my friends? My mother will have a fit when she finds out." Then I suddenly thought: I wonder will she? I remembered all the times during my childhood when she encouraged me to wear girly underwear; she had even made most of it. No she probably wouldn't be too worried. "Forget about work. If you accept this offer you will never have to worry about money again. I'm a rich man; I'll provide everything you need. You'll have no-limit credit cards, buy the finest clothes, jewellery, a car, anything. I mentioned before that I could help you if you wanted to be a girl. I know of people whose job it is to teach boys the correct way to dress, apply make-up, walk, talk et cetera. Why don't you give it a couple of months trial and if after that period you don't want to continue then that will be an end of it?" "I don't know what to say." I said. "I'll have to think about this a lot. It's a huge step. It would mean a complete change in my life. Would I ever be able to step out of role?" "No. I'm sorry, but if you take this on it's the whole thing or nothing. There'll be no more scruffy jeans and tee shirts. No dirty trainers. No bad habits or letting yourself go. Your appearance and behaviour are of the utmost importance. You will always wear the most feminine dresses, or skirts and tops. You will never be without appropriate make-up, your hair will always be perfect and you will always wear heeled shoes. You may think I'm being a bit harsh but those are my conditions." "Can I sleep on it before I give you an answer?" "Of course, in fact why don't you stay here the night. You can use Gloria's bedroom, there's everything in there a girl could possible need." Nick stood and held his hand down to me. I took it and he gently pulled me to my feet. We stood very close for a moment then as if by some unheard command I raised my face to his and his lips found mine. His strong arms enfolded me; our lips hovered against each other, barely touching. For an instant they lightly brushed before mashing together with a passion that almost frightened me. I felt his tongue on my hot lips; I instinctively parted them to admit its probing entry. I tasted his saliva mixing it with my own producing an intoxicating mixture. He explored the inside of my mouth, my teeth, and my tongue then slowly began thrusting deep into my mouth. It felt how I imagined a small penis would feel. How long the kiss lasted I have no idea, but we eventually parted gasping for breath. My knees felt week, my heart rate was racing and I was slightly surprised to find I had an erection. So also had Nick. I could clearly feel his hard tumescence pressing against my stomach. He released me from his arms and took my hand. He led me to Gloria's room. At the door he gazed deeply into my eyes then placed his hands either side of face, brushing my hair back, and kissed me once more. This had none of the former passion but was of such sweet tenderness I almost swooned. "Good night, my darling." He whispered. "Good night Nick." Chapter Ten When I awoke the next morning my first thought was 'He wants me to live with him as a girl.' And my second thought was 'Do I want to live as a girl?' Then after only a seconds hesitation I decided 'Yes, I do. I want to be the beautiful woman in the life of the man I love.' Now the decision was made I felt relaxed and comfortable, filled with a feeling of exciting anticipation. I lay in the big soft bed between satin sheets, wearing a nylon baby-doll nightie that I didn't remember donning the night before. I had no idea what time it was, but I detected the inviting aroma of coffee brewing so guessed it was time to get up. After a quick shower I remembered what he'd said about being ultra feminine so I looked for something to wear. I found the perfect thing in a frothy nylon floor-length negligee. The hem, the borders and the sleeve ends were trimmed with pink ostrich feathers. I slipped it over my naked body and knotted the sash. In a closet filled with shoes I found a pair of high-heeled mules trimmed with the same pink feathers. I wobbled a little when I put them on as I'd had no practice at walking in heels, but again remembering what he'd said I decided it was time I started. I practiced walking round the room a couple of times then checked myself in the large ornate cheval mirror that stood to the side of the vanity unit. I brushed my hair and fluffed it up a bit, then applied a touch of lipstick. I was afraid to use any other make-up because being inexperienced I was sure to mess it up, but the hint of lippy was just right. I liked what I saw. As I turned to leave I glanced over my shoulder I saw that the filmy negligee with quite see-through and it was obvious I wore nothing beneath the flimsy covering. I liked it even more. Nick was making toast when I entered the kitchen. He was wearing white silk pyjamas with royal blue piping and his feet were bare. When he saw me his mouth dropped open then a smile spread across his mouth. "Oh my, you look sensational, baby. Does this mean you have made a decision?" "Yes I have. Miss Pauline Newbury graciously accept the offer made to her by Mr Nicholas Haydock to become his live-in girlfriend." "Oh that's wonderful. I am so happy. You won't regret it I promise. Come here and let me kiss you, you beautiful creature." We kissed with all the passion that had been pent up inside us since the first time we'd met. It was many minutes before our mouths parted and we separated breathing heavily. I stepped back a pace and dropped my eyes feeling slightly embarrassed by the desire I felt for this man. As I looked down I saw Nick's erect penis protruding from the fly of his pyjamas. As if directed by some external power my hand reached forward and my fingers encircled his rod of hot flesh. Other than my own I'd never touched a man's cock and what I was doing now both astonished and excited me. It felt very hot and hard, but the covering of skin gave it a strangely soft feel. I slowly began stoking the organ in the same manner I often did my own during my lonely fantasies. A deep groan came from Nick's throat and I thought for a moment I'd done something wrong, but when I looked at his face his eyes were tightly closed and an ecstatic smile covered his mouth. I masturbated him slowly for several minutes till he stopped me. Taking my hand he led me through to the lounge. We stood facing one another, and I watched enthralled as he unbuttoned his pyjama jacket and dropped it to the floor. He untied the knot in the string of the bottoms and let them fall around his ankle. His penis stood erect and proud atop his sturdy thighs and swayed heavily when he kicked the pj's away. He then reached for the sash of my negligee, took an end in each hand and pulled the single bow apart. His hands moved inside the silky material and rested on my waist, then slowly glided up my body, over my chest, pausing to gently squeeze and caress my nipples, finally sliding the gown off my shoulders, leaving me naked and erect before his adoring gaze. We lay together on the couch and once more began to kiss. He took my hand and placed it on his cock. I knew what to do now and began to wank him. At the same time I felt his hand take my smaller prick and start to masturbate it. We gazed into each other's eyes then watched our hands skilfully bring us to the verge of eruption. So great was my excitement, that my climax was explosive and spectacular. My sperm was ejaculated with such force that some landed on Nick's face and subsequent pulses covered both our bodies. Very soon after I'd emptied my nuts, Nick erupted with the same impressive results. We broke apart and lay together breathing heavily, bathed in the mixed outpouring of our testicles. I looked at Nick and started to giggle when I noticed a dribble of cum slowly dripping off his nose onto his lips. I didn't know if it was his or mine; I just lent across and licked it from his face. I licked all there was from his face and his neck; them worked my way downward cleaning his body of all traces of semen. Finally I arrived at his flaccid penis, which was still oozing and I unhesitatingly took the head into my mouth and sucked any remaining nectar from it. I'd always thought the idea of swallowing cum to be slightly repulsive, and I never dreamed I would ever do it. But after consuming our combined offerings from Nick's sweaty body, I was pleasantly surprised at how nice it tasted. In fact I wanted more. I continued sucking Nick's cock and caressing his balls and slowly it began to stiffen and fill with blood, expanding till it filled my mouth completely. I so loved the sensation of a hot, living penis filling my mouth that it caused my own member to re-awaken. I slid to the carpet and crawled between Nick's legs. On my knees I paid homage to his wonderfully handsome cock as I sucked and stroked it to a shuddering orgasm, which, despite his earlier ejaculation, filled my mouth to overflowing. I was obliged to sallow furiously so as to not lose any. For the next couple of hours we lay together kissing, masturbating, sucking and whispering declarations of love to each other. Eventually we got up and ate some food. Nick didn't put his pyjamas back on explaining that he preferred to remain naked, and usually spent his time nude whenever he was alone in the apartment. I was happy to remain naked also but he insisted I wear the negligee. "You have to understand Pauline, that it's seeing you in sexy women's clothes that turns me on. To my mind there is nothing as exciting as a pretty boy in a feminine dress. Come with me." Holding my hand we walked into Gloria's room. He opened her closet door and walking in. A few minutes later he emerged with an armful of clothing, which he threw onto the bed. Then he began selecting items from various drawers till be appeared satisfied with what he had. "These will do to begin with." He said. "We're going to start your education at dressing as a woman. Put these on please." He had handed me a small bundle of lacy silk and when I separated it I saw they were a matching bra, panties and suspender belt. "Would you mind helping me please," I said. "I've only ever worn panties and I'm not altogether sure how to put these on." I held up the bra and garter belt in each hand. "It'll be my pleasure." Taking the suspender belt he passed it round my waist and clipped it together at the back. "If you are doing this on your own, you'll probably find it easier to fasten it at the front then swivel it around your waist. Make sure it's centred correctly or else the garter tabs won't be in the right position to hold up your stockings." Next he opened a new packet of nylons. "You must always be most careful when handling stockings, especially these fine 15 denier ones, as it is easy to ladder them. And nothing looks worse that a stocking with a run in it. No lady would ever dream of going out in damaged hosiery. " As he talked he gently rolled the nylon into a doughnut shape. I sat on the vanity stool and Nick knelt at my feet. He placed circle over my toes then very carefully worked it over my heel and up my leg. When the thicker welt was pulled up to my thigh he told me to stand and showed me how to clip the garter-tab to the stocking, first at the front then at the back. He repeated the same operation on the second leg. I was immediately enamoured with the marvellous sensation of the shear nylon encasing my legs and thighs; the tug of the elasticised tabs and the erotic look of the frilly, lacy belt. Whilst Nick was still on his knees, he lifted my foot and pushed it into a shoe then buckled the tiny strap at the side of my ankle. He repeated the other shoe and I wobbled on the four-inch stilettos. Then he held the panties ready for me to step into. I had to steady myself by holding onto his bare shoulder as I raised first one foot then the other. He slowly eased the panties up my nylon clad legs, giving me the most exquisite sensation, so that by the time he had the thong snuggled into the crack of my buttocks it was impossible for my hard cock to be restrained within the delicate material. "I assume from your reaction that you like wearing stockings and suspenders?" "Oh Nick." I excl