Flat Mates - Part 3 - Chapter 12 - Another Year At Uni free porn video

FLAT MATES - Part 3 Chapter 12 - "Another Year at Uni" It was Monday morning and the first day of the autumn term for my second year at the University of Manchester Institute of Science and Technology; exciting and groan-inducing at the same time. Today I had a bigger problem to cope with than my fellow students. For most of the summer vacation I had been living 75% of the time as a woman. I had even had my hair coloured and styled in an ultra-feminine fashion. So I had set my alarm extra early so as to allow time for me to get my appearance back to some semblance of masculinity. I wasn't too worried if I appeared somewhat androgynous; my colleagues at Uni all knew about my cross-dressing and some even seemed to be slightly jealous! However I had to work with machinery in the labs and "big hair" was not a good idea in this environment. Like the few girls on my course I would have to keep it out of the way. My long, pink varnished nails would have to go also. Before I showered I took the clippers and varnish remover to my nails. I was quite sad to see my pretty pink nails disappear, to be replaced by blunt male one. (Still, they were well manicured for a man!) When I had washed my hair and partially dried it, I pulled it back into a tight pony-tail worn low on my neck. (I couldn't resist fastening it with a pink scrunchie, rather than the elastic band most men would have used!) Short of having my hair dyed - and I wasn't going to take that drastic step - there was nothing I could do about the high and low-lights that ran through my dark blond colouring. As I now owned no masculine underwear at all, I slipped on a pair of nylon panties and pulled a pair of black, 60 denier knee-highs over my feet. One of my few male shirts, a pair of men's jeans, and loafers completed my ensemble. I slipped a pair of gold sleeper studs into my pierced ear-lobes and a masculine watch onto my wrist. It felt strange after all these weeks not to be wearing heels, nor to taste lipstick on my mouth. Still it would not be long before I had a chance to get back into my beloved skirts and dresses. Back in the classroom, all of us students swapped gossip about what we had been up to over the long vacation. My particular friend, and lab partner, Sally was very amused to hear about my exploits as a waitress during the annual Sparkle Festival for the Transgendered. She chided me for not having told her about it as she, and her mates, would have loved to have come down to the festival - if only for the pleasure of having me serve them drinks whilst dressed in a shocking pink, French Maid's uniform! All too soon work beckoned and we settled down to our briefing as to what would be expected from us this year. It was definitely a step up from the relatively gentle first year and I knew that if I was going to get good grades I would have to spend more time on my studies and less socialising. The first day was a relatively short one and I was back home in the house in Gladwin Road that I shared with my fellow student and lover, Gavin, by 4pm. Gavin, who was in his final year at UMIST, was not yet home so I set about preparing supper. Gavin got in about 6pm. He looked shattered so I gave him a warm hug and kiss and sat him down on the sofa whilst I hurried to get us both a glass of wine. "I'm in a state of shock," he started, when he had taken a large mouthful of wine. "My tutor has just told me that if I keep up my workrate I'm in line for a First. I just can't believe it!" I knew what he meant, a First Class degree doesn't come easy and UMIST is not noted for any liberality when it comes to awarding them! I congratulated him warmly and poured him another glass of wine; he both deserved and needed it! "I've been told that my workload is going to increase dramatically this year as well," I said, "so it looks like you and I are both going to be nose to the grindstone and goodbye to lengthy visits to the Purple Python" - (our favourite club in Manchester's gay Village.) "I'm sure that if we plan things carefully we will be able to get in the odd night out," he replied, "but I agree that we are going to need to be better organised than we were last year." The next few weeks were really hectic work-wise as we both tried to ensure we got on top of the syllabus. We agreed that the best approach to socialising would be if we could plan our work in a way that left Saturday free. I managed to make things a bit more complicated in that I had signed up for bar work every Friday evening. The owner of the Purple Python, Sol Green, had expanded his business during the summer weekends with an all-day, outdoor caf? service. He had made me his "Head Waitress" for this activity and I had learned a lot about managing people and customer service. Now that it was October and a bit too cool for outdoor socialising Sol had closed down this service. However, he wanted to keep me in the team and had offered me the position of Duty Manager on Friday evenings when Mavis, his regular Manager, had her day off. I was flattered that he clearly respected what I was capable of and had accepted with alacrity. It so happened that Gavin, in his role as "Gloria", had a regular singing slot at the club so (s)he negotiated with Sol to have a single performance date each week, also on a Friday. This way we could earn some much needed money; see our tranny friends; and not compromise our study schedule. I really enjoyed my shifts as Duty Manager. Mavis was a lesbian and, at the behest of her partner, Alice, often dressed in a man's tuxedo outfit when working in the club. For my part duty shifts were an invitation to glam up as Katy. I knew I needed to present a professional air of command, so anything "girly", tarty, or frilly was definitely out. I invested in a very smart black skirt suit from Hobbs - (I found it "on sale", when it was very much reduced and hence just about affordable!) I also bought two knee- length, black, cocktail dresses from my friend Frankie when she was weeding out the stockroom of her dressing service. I alternated these week by week so as always to appear elegant and smart to customers entering the club. Knowing my hair was going to be a potential problem, I went back to the Salon near our house and sought the advice of my stylist. Between us we came up with a cut that could be pulled back during the week but was easily brushed up into a feminine style for the weekends. I also grew my fingernails to the maximum length compatible with operating workshop machinery and made regular use of a nail-hardening treatment to improve their strength. So, immediately after my final class on a Friday, I would hurry home; wash and set my hair; paint my nails; and put on my make-up. I kept my "club clothes" at the Python - (together with pairs of spare tights in case of accidents) - so all I had to do was slip into female casual clothes and hop on the bus into town. My duties were to welcome guests as they entered the club; seat them at a table and introduce them to their waiter/waitress for the evening. Naturally when not rushed off my feet, I tended to spend a little time chatting, particularly with "first time" customers; putting them at their ease and telling them about the facilities the Purple Python had to offer. Although the Python was a gay/lesbian/transgender friendly venue, it also attracted quite a few "straight" tourists who wanted to experience the atmosphere of Manchester's famous Village. Nor surprisingly, when it came to it many tourists were nervous about entering an environment with which they were unfamiliar. I saw it as my job to make sure they felt comfortable and that they had a good time. It was also my responsibility, as Duty Manager, to resolve any issues that might occur during the course of the evening; such as staff not turning up for duty; awkward customers; excessive drinking; etc. It was a stimulating and busy job and I found that time just rushed by. As Gloria and I were spending every Friday evening at the Purple Python, we did not feel the need to go there every Saturday as well. Although the Python had been the centre of our circle last year; this term we decided to venture further afield and explore some of the other delights The Village had to offer. As gay cross-dressers we felt pretty comfortable going into most venues in the Village. Many, if not most, men who cross-dress are heterosexual and feel uncomfortable in an exclusively gay venue, and hence tend to avoid the overtly gay clubs. Although Gavin and I had come to the realisation that we were both gay some months earlier when we started into a loving relationship, neither of us had really explored the gay scene; we now determined to do so. In order to avoid committing any avoidable faux-pas, we sought the advice of our tranny-loving, gay friend Alec. He gave us good advice about which venues to avoid - (those where gays went specifically for casual sex) - and those that were more about having a good time with like-minded people. He offered to take us round and introduce us to some of his friends. This was a generous offer, because we knew that he still fancied me - (I had been out with him once, en femme, but had rebuffed his advances) - and accepted gratefully. There was no way we were going to be able to disguise the fact that we were a pair of "sissies", so Alec suggested that we should keep our feminine hairstyles and openly wear make-up and jewellery, but dress in appropriate male clothing. For Gavin "appropriate clothing" turned out to be a collarless, striped shirt, with sleeves rolled up to the elbow; faded denim jeans; a leather waistcoat; and black shoes. I decided this was a bit boring and went for a more flamboyant look. I still had the genuine 1970's blue velvet jacket and cream, hip-hugging, flared trousers. I teamed these with a yellow silk shirt and black Chelsea boots. Alec took us to "Giovanni's Bar". No-one could remember who "Giovanni" had been, but the name of the bar stuck! It now provided a dance venue for gay men. Entering such a bar was another first for me and I was more that a little nervous. I reached out and grabbed Gavin's hand; it was reassuring to feel, from his squeeze of acknowledgement, that he felt the same way I did. Thus we entered the bar hand in hand. Giovanni's turned out to be like any other nightclub. Men were drinking at the bar or at tables discretely scattered in alcoves around the sides of the room. There was a small stage, which tonight hosted a disco, and a fairly extensive dance floor on which several couples were already manoeuvring. Turning to Gavin, Alec smiled and said; "As your guide for tonight, I claim the first dance with Katy!" So saying he took me by the arm and led me onto the dance floor. Fortunately the record being played required some pretty fast dancing, so our physical contact was minimal. I was just beginning to think I had got away lightly when the music changed and a slow, sexy number started to play. Without a pause Alec took me in his arms and pressed his cheek against mine. In spite of the fact I had once turned him down as a sexual partner; I liked Alec as a person, so relaxed into his embrace. I even managed to avoid any sudden reaction when I felt his right hand slip to my bottom and give it a gentle fondle! As the dance ended Alec kissed me firmly on the mouth and thanked me for the dance. "Any time you get tired of Gloria" he whispered, "remember I am still hot for you!" I was blushing furiously as Alec escorted me off the floor and back to where Gavin was sitting with a wide grin on his face. He knew exactly what Alec had been up to and his reassuring wink help considerably in calming me down. Gavin and I rose to dance together for the next couple of dances and then Gavin asked Alec to dance and made sure he got some of his own medicine. Whilst I was laughing at their antics I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was a complete stranger asking me if I would dance with him. This was a bit of a shock, but I quickly realised that this was standard behaviour in a gay club and, smiling, accepted his offer. He told me his name was Mark and that he was a fairly new habitu? at Giovanni's himself. I guess he must have been about 30 years old; handsome; with dark chestnut hair and a small moustache. He was wearing a long-sleeved, pale-blue shirt and tan slacks; he smelt of aftershave. Mark remarked on how nice I smelt - in dressing "male" I had been unable to resist a squirt of my favourite "female" perfume! Mark behaved like a perfect gentleman and, after our dance, escorted me back to our table. I asked him to join us for a drink - much to Alec's obvious annoyance! Gavin and I enjoyed chatting with Mark and eventually Alec excused himself and grumpily made his way across to another table where several of his friends were sitting. I did feel a pang of conscience for Alec had been very kind to introduce us here, but there was no way he was going to get off with me and the sooner he realised that, the better. Time passed very agreeably and before we knew it, it was time to go home. We said goodbye to Mark and both managed to keep a straight face when he kissed us goodbye. Clearly we had a lot to learn about the social mores of gay clubs! Over the next few weeks we made visited Giovanni's on several Saturdays. We also ventured into one or two other gay clubs Alec had told us about. Gradually we became more comfortable and accepting of our own gay sexuality. However we both missed our heels, nylons, and skirts and so, on other Saturdays, "glammed up" to explore different tranny venues, of which there were many in The Village. By now were both becoming familiar figures around The Village and our circle of acquaintance broadened considerably. One evening at home I received a phone call from my elder sister, Madeleine, who was at University in Edinburgh. She told me that, whilst they would never say anything directly to me, both Mum and Dad were hurt that I hadn't been home to see them in Scarborough since before the summer holidays. I had already explained to Madeleine why Gavin and I had chosen to go to his parents in Shrewsbury for our summer break and she fully understood and supported our decision. "I just think you need to find a way to see them," she said. "You know they will support your chosen life-style, even though they cannot understand it. Promise me you won't leave it too long." I gave her my promise and started thinking about the best way to reconnect with Mum and Dad. Naturally I discussed my dilemma with Gavin. After all he was my partner and, as such, deserved to be involved in all important decision making. His view, which I gradually came to accept, was that it would be best, on this occasion, for me to arrange to see my parents on my own. Accordingly I rang home and Mum answered the phone. She was obviously pleased to hear from me and delighted when I said I was planning a trip home. The conversation got a little tearful after that and the upshot was that I arranged to go over to Scarborough the following Saturday, stay the night, and return to Manchester on the Sunday afternoon. Again after consulting Gavin, I decided to go to Scarborough as "KT/Kerris", not as "Katy". My choice of clothing presented me with a problem. I didn't want to risk embarrassing Mum and Dad by turning up in a skirt and being seen by one of their friends. On the other hand I didn't want to totally masculine as this might give Mum and Dad the impression that my cross- dressing had merely been a passing phase. In the end I settled for a fairly androgynous look; no bra or falsies; a girl's white shirt; male jeans and jacket - (the pockets of which did away with the need for a handbag); and male trainers. I pulled my hair back into a low ponytail and compromised by using a black scrunchie rather than a coloured one; there was nothing I could do about the blonde streaks. I intended to wear sparkly stud earrings and a light application of mascara, a colourless lip-gloss, and clear nail varnish. On the Saturday morning I took extra care to check my face and nails before getting ready for Scarborough. I had been working at the Purple Python until the early hours of the morning and had been fairly heavily made up. I had been too tired on returning home to make sure I cleaned and moisturised properly before going to bed. Having cleaned off the previous night's make- up, I applied the, hopefully, discrete colouring I had chosen. Mum was waiting with the car at Scarborough station and I could tell from the hurt look in her eyes that she had been hoping that I would no longer have been showing any signs of femininity. However she quickly masked her disappointment and gave me a big "welcome home" hug before we got into the car. Dad was waiting for us at home and he too frowned slightly at my appearance. (My younger sister, Fiona, had now left home and was at university in Bristol.) Over coffee I apologised for not having been back during the long vacation and explained that as both Gavin and I had had jobs over the summer, we had only been able to arrange the one short trip away. This explanation slightly mollified them and they asked, politely, after Gavin and enquired why he hadn't come with me on this trip. Now the conversation was entering serious territory and I took a deep breath and embarked on the script I had pre-prepared. "I know you both love and care for me and that, ultimately, you will support me in whatever direction my life takes," I started. "However, I also know you are deeply upset about my coming out as gay and even more so that I chose to cross-dress. I'm sorry you feel that way but there is nothing I can do about it; it is the way I am." At this point Mum started crying and Dad gave me a severe scowl as if to say, "Why are you saying this and upsetting your Mother?" I hated hurting them, but the truth had to come out if we were to have any future as a family. "I am genuinely in love with Gavin," I continued. "It isn't some flash-in-the-pan infatuation and we intend to stay together for the foreseeable future. We also intend to continue wearing women's clothing. When we are dressed it just feels "right" somehow. If I am honest, I feel more of a fake sitting here before you in jacket and trousers than I would in a dress and heels." This produced more crying, but gradually everyone calmed down and we started to have a serious discussion about transgenderism and what it meant to me. After a few hours and several cups of tea, Mum said; "Well if this is truly how you mean to live your life Dad and I will welcome "Katy" and "Gloria" into our lives as two additional daughters." Dad silently nodded his agreement. This was very generous of them and it was now my turn to burst into tears. Mum hurried over and put her arms round me. "Boy or girl, you are still my child" she comforted me. "Next time you visit you must bring Gloria with you and we can have a party to introduce you both to our friends. Now that we know this is a serious commitment on your part, there is no point in trying to hide it." This was an even more generous offer and yet more tears flowed. I think all three of us were sobbing at one time. "Now dear" said Mum, "go upstairs and wash your face. All that crying has made your mascara run. You will need to refresh it. I'm just glad I didn't have any on! After all we women need to look our best at all times!" At long last someone had said something that produced laughter rather than tears. I went upstairs to the bathroom and did as Mum had suggested. I also took the opportunity to fluff my ponytail into a more feminine look and apply a little more lip gloss. When I went back down Mum asked me, "Would you like to change into a dress, dear?" I explained I had only brought semi-masculine clothes with me. "Well have a look in Madeleine's room," Mum suggested, "she might have something that would fit you." I told her I was fine as I was but Mum continued; "No dear, if you are more comfortable wearing dresses, the sooner Dad and I get used to seeing you in skirts the better. So I trotted back upstairs and rummaged through my sister's wardrobe. I had never been a particularly burly boy and now that I had lost weight I wasn't that much bigger than Madeleine. It soon became apparent, however, that her tailored clothes wouldn't fit me, so I settled on knee-length, summer skirt with an elasticised waist and a cashmere sweater. I loosened my hair from its ponytail and brushed it into more of a semblance of my usual style. Looking at myself in the mirror I was surprised to see how flat- chested I was. I had become so used to wearing breast forms that my sweater looked wrong without them! I burrowed through Madeleine's underwear drawer - (in for a penny in for a pound!) - until I found an old bra that seem stretched enough to fit me. It was a bit tight, but when stuffed with several pairs of tights, gave me a reasonable bust. I also rolled a pair of tan tights up my legs and found a pair of sandals that I could just about squeeze my feet into. Finally I found a few odd ends of make-up that Madeleine hadn't got around to throwing away, and put on a little foundation, blusher, eye-shadow, and lippy. I felt much more appropriately dressed as, once again, I made my way downstairs. Mum complemented me on my appearance and Dad muttered something like, "humph; very nice" as he poured us all a glass of sparkling wine! Having broken the ice and after our full and frank discussion, the atmosphere between us was more like old times. We sat enjoying our drink and, when Mum got up to prepare supper, it seemed perfectly natural that I, as another woman, would get up to help her. I think that little gesture did more to reconcile Mum to the fact that I really was operating as a woman than anything else. We chatted gaily as we put the meal together and I told Mum about how Gloria and I split the household chores at home and how I had become the principal cook. "Thanks to your early lessons, Mum" I told her. We had a relaxed meal with plenty more wine and it was quite late before we finished talking. What pleased me particularly was that after supper our conversation was all about "normal" things; how my course was going at UMIST; what Fiona had told them about her first term in Bristol; things Mum and Dad had been doing since I last saw them - everyday family chat. The fact that I was sitting there in a skirt, nylons and heels seemed totally irrelevant. On retiring to bed, I nipped into Madeleine's room and pinched a pair of her satin pyjamas. I was going to have some serious explaining to do to my big sister for borrowing her clothes! I slept late and had a leisurely bath before going down to breakfast. I had brought clean knickers with me and the bra I had worn the previous evening was still OK. I found another skirt and top combination of Madeleine's that I liked and was able to make a better job of my hair. If I say so myself; I looked quite smart when I walked into the kitchen, there to be greeted by the smell of fresh coffee and warm croissants. Over breakfast Mum and Dad told me that they had decided to bite the bullet and had invited their closest friends, George and Muriel Turner, over for pre-lunch drinks to meet their "new daughter" Katy. This came as a bit of a shock. George and Muriel had known me since I was a baby; how were they going to react to seeing me like this? "It is OK" Dad explained, "We have told them about your life- style and the fact that you have recently discovered your true sexuality. They were a bit shocked initially, but they do understand and were very keen to meet you in your new guise." Well that was it; nothing for it but to smile and say "OK"! I could hardly complain; this was exactly what I had wanted to achieve in trying to get my parents to come to terms with who I now was; I just hadn't expected it to happen so fast! After breakfast I scurried back upstairs for another rummage through Madeleine's belongings. As any woman would, I was determined to make an impression on our guests. I finally found a blue and white wrap-over dress that looked really great with my streaked blonde hair. I managed to cram my feet into a pair of white court shoes and Mum lent me some ropes of fake pearls. (I think she rather enjoyed my borrowing something of hers; a real "mother and daughter" moment!) Needless to say Mum also ensured she was looking at her best; she had no intention of being upstaged in the fashion stakes by her son! When they arrived George and Muriel were sweet. Muriel kissed me on both cheeks and said how much she liked my dress. George also embraced me with a gentle hug, but he couldn't quite bring himself to kiss me! Over drinks I told them about how I had discovered that I was gay and that I was now in a loving partnership with Gavin. I also tried to explain why I needed to cross-dress. This was much harder to articulate because, if I am honest, I'm not really clear about that myself! The ice having been broken, I knew it wouldn't take long for the whole of Mum and Dad's circle to hear about me. Well so be it; it was a necessary stage in my development and growth as a person. When George and Muriel had said their farewells, Mum, Dad and I sat down to lunch. Afterwards I changed back into my own clothes and put Madeleine's aside for Mum to wash - (she had offered) - and they both drove me back to the station. I texted Gavin to tell him how well things had panned out and filled in the details when we were together back in our own house. The next morning I phoned Madeleine and told her I had followed her advice and that things were now back on an even keel between Mum and dad and me. I also explained - and apologised - about borrowing some of her clothes. "It's OK" she replied, "most of my belongings are here with me in Edinburgh; the things I have left behind at home are mostly odds and ends I haven't got round to throwing away yet. You are welcome to anything you like that fits." I thanked her and made a mental note to have a good look through her wardrobe the next time I was in Scarborough. I certainly fancied the blue and white dress I had worn for drinks on Sunday and there might be others that would serve to expand my feminine wardrobe - and at no cost! My weekend break-away in Scarborough being over, it was back to the grindstone for me as I had a couple of assignment reports coming up for my tutor. A couple of weeks later Sally, my lab partner, and I were among the last to finish clearing up after a practical lecture. I happened to notice that one of the other students was hanging back and glancing in my direction as though he wanted to have a word. The guy in question was called Barry. He hailed from Northern Ireland and, although I had spoken to him a few times I didn't know him particularly well. I was intrigued why he was evidently so keen to talk to me. So I said cheerio to Sally and we arranged a time to meet the next day to write up our notes together. When Sally had left, I turned to Barry and said; "Well you obviously want to talk to me; what's it all about?" Barry blushed and looked at his feet. "I...er...wondered if you could help me with a problem. I've been invited to a.....(and at this point he was almost whispering)...Gender Bender party and I'll need to wear a dress. I don't know how to go about it and thought you might be able to help me. We all know you sometimes cross-dress and I thought you would probably know places I could try where they wouldn't make fun of me." There, he had said it and his relief was palpable. I took a guess that the party invitation was pure fiction and that Barry just wanted a dress for himself. I could remember only too clearly my terror the first time I ventured out in public in a skirt, thereby declaring my status as a cross-dresser. At least my first exposure hadn't been on a shopping trip, so I could well understand Barry's fear. "Of course I'll help you," I said. "Firstly, just to establish a few basics; what sort of dress are you looking for?" "Oh a pretty party dress," was his immediate response and this reply only served to confirm my assumption that this was something he had been thinking about for a long time. However, I decided it would be kinder not to face him with the fact that I realised he was a latent cross-dresser and to go along with the "party invitation" story. "Well, if it's only a one-off event you won't want to spend too much," I mused. "I'd normally suggest a tour of the more up-market charity shops, but you won't know your dress size and it would be a shame to buy something only to find it doesn't fit when you get home. I know; why don't you go to Frankie's?" I then told him about my friend Frankie, a "genetic woman" who runs a dressing service for trannies who can't dress at home. "She nearly always has a rail of clothes she is getting rid of and her prices are very reasonable. I've found some real bargains there. If you tell her I gave you her name, she will know that aren't just some casual browser and will look after you properly. You will be able to try on anything you like in total privacy and without embarrassment." Barry muttered his thanks and turned to go. I couldn't resist a slight dig; "Enjoy the party" I called after him, "I bet your legs will look great when you are wearing high heels." He did not respond! Some weeks later, just before the end of term and the Christmas holiday, I was carrying out my regular Friday night job as Duty Manager at the Purple Python. I happened to glance across to the bar and noticed a girl sitting on her own quietly sipping her drink. I thought I recognised her and walked across. "Hallo Barry," I said, "fancy meeting you here. But I guess I shouldn't call you "Barry" tonight should I?" (S)he blushed and looked down. "No it's 'Bridget' tonight," she mumbled. "It's OK," I responded. "You are among friends here; there is nothing to be embarrassed about. In fact I think you look lovely." This wasn't strictly true. Barry had the makings of a passable woman, but he still had a lot to learn. At present his appearance and posture shrieked "bloke in a frock". However, it would have been cruel to have said as much. "Is this your first time at the Python?" I enquired. "Yes," she replied, "in fact it is my first time out anywhere dressed. Until now I have only dared dress in my room. I know you must have guessed something like that when I asked for your advice all those weeks ago." I could see tears welling in her eyes. Although I was on duty, things were pretty quiet for the moment and I thought I could justify sitting with Bridget for a while and try to put her at her ease. "How long have you known you were a cross-dresser?" I asked. "For always," was her reply. "But for most of the time I managed to suppress the urges to dress as a girl. That all changed when I met you and realised that expressing my feminine side didn't have to be furtive and that I wasn't some kind of unique freak and that there were lots of others like me here in Manchester. I've been wandering around the Village for months trying to pluck up the courage to buy an outfit of my own and come out openly. You will never know what a difference you have made to my life. I see you as 'my heroine'." It was now my turn to blush. "Don't be silly," I replied, "I'm just like you; in fact I only discovered my feminine side a year ago when I first came up to university." "I find that incredible," gasped Bridget. "Of course although I've seen you wearing some female clothes around collage, this is the first time I have seen you completely dressed as a woman. I think you are stunning!" I tried to accept her compliment with good grace. It so happened that that evening I was wearing one of my favourite black cocktail dresses. I kept a few smart outfits at the Python, so that I could ring the changes and still ensure I looked "managerial." This particular dress was a black-velvet, sleeveless, knee-length sheath, over which I wore a black, lace shrug. My blonde hair was "up", with wispy tendrils framing my face. I liked the "look", but it was flattering to be told I was "stunning"! I chatted for a little longer with Bridget and, when I felt I could no longer neglect my duties, took her over and introduced her to Suzy and Tessa, good "girl"friends of mine who were sitting at their usual table. I saw Bridget in the Python quite a few time after that and was delighted to see her confidence bloom and her femininity start to shine through. By the end of the summer term she was one of our regulars and a very popular girl indeed. She deliberately played on her Irish heritage; choosing to wear a fabulous long, auburn wig and favouring green as the principle colour for her outfits. A few days after my encounter with Bridget, term ended. Released, at least for a couple of weeks, from the treadmill of our work schedule, Gloria and I went out on the town to celebrate with our friends. As we had been too busy for much dressing time, we decided that tonight would be a "glam" one and we would go out with the "girls", rather than with any of our new gay mates. Of course this decision immediately posed the problem; what shall we wear? Neither of us was in sufficient funds to go out and splurge on new outfits. We would have to be canny as to how we put different things together to create a "look" that appeared new but was, in fact, made up of individual items that had been around for a while. (I know this is a problem faced by women everywhere - irrespective of their gender!) I finally settled on black; teaming a short, tight leather skirt with a sheer top and a bustier that left my bra straps on display. The bustier provided an added bonus in that it pushed my chest-flesh inward and upward, giving the impression of spectacular boobs! Fishnet stockings and black court shoes finished off the outfit. In an attempt to distract too much attention being paid to my clothes - all of which I had worn to the Python before - I crammed my blonde hair inside a wig cap and donned a short, curly, reddish-brown wig that I had found at Frankie's. The change in hair colour and style totally altered my appearance and I was well pleased with the overall effect. I kept my jewellery really simple, limiting myself to black beaded wrist bands and large black and silver, hooped earrings. Gloria also changed her hair, hiding her short, platinum-blonde cut under an enormous wig of dark-blonde, frizzy curls that fell almost to her waist. She wore a very short, tight mini-skirt in a black and gold fern pattern with a green-gold sweater, fastened with a gold chain-link belt. Black tights and gold peep-toed sandals completed her outfit. We certainly went down a storm at the Purple Python that night. Our dramatically altered appearance resulted in many of our acquaintances failing initially to recognise us and, on at least one occasion, I was chatted up by someone I knew reasonably well, who thought I was a "first-timer" at the club. I took great delight in leading him on before revealing my true identity! As the evening wore on, the party got more and more lively until, eventually, we all spilled out of the club and danced around The Village. Partygoers from other clubs joined us until there was a wonderful gathering of gays, lesbians, transgendered, and straight folk all whooping it up in the middle of Manchester. When we finally got back home, Gloria and I both said it was one of the best nights we could remember. As Christmas was now upon us, Gloria and I were faced with the dilemma of where to spend it. In fairness, after their generous response to my recent visit, we owed my parents a few favours, so I rang Mum and asked her if it would be OK for Gloria and I to join them on Christmas Day. She was, of course, delighted. I explained that Gloria would now ring her parents with a view to us going to them for New Year. This seemed a fair division of time and, in the event, all of the parents were happy with our plan. It was a shame that Gloria and I would miss out on the New Year celebrations in The Village, as they sounded as though they were going to be very lively; still family is family and what better time of year for everyone to get together. We drove over to Scarborough on Christmas Eve. Fiona was home from Bristol, but Madeleine was spending Christmas with her boyfriend's family. Probably just as well really, as he didn't yet know about "Katy" and "Gloria" and Christmas might not be the best of times to introduce him to them! Christmas was as Christmas usually is; full of family traditions and too much good food and wine. Gavin and I spent roughly half the time in male mode, changing into dresses for dinner and evenings. True to their word, the day after Boxing Day Mum and Dad laid on a small drinks party to introduce Gloria to their friends as my partner and to give those friends their first sight of me in full "Katy" mode. It was a nerve-wracking prospect before it started, but in the event, went much better than we could have imagined. Mum and Dad had taken trouble over briefing their friends about our circumstances, so no-one was surprised and most seemed relieved that we came over as presentable women and not some dragged-up freaks. We both chose to wear knee-length cocktail dresses; mine was a black lace one and I wore my hair up. Gloria opted for a black velvet sheath, worn with a pretty net jacket, decorated with sequin flowers. The following morning we all sat over breakfast discussing how the party had gone. Overall the reaction had been favourable. Dad said that a couple of the men had commiserated with him for having lost a son; but Mum countered that by relating how several of the women had said how nice it must be for her to have two more daughters! After breakfast Fiona took me to one side; "You and Gavin are leaving today to drive to Shrewsbury" she started. "Since leaving home and going to university in Bristol, I have discovered that there are lots of people like you and Gavin and, in fact, a couple of boys on my course openly acknowledge that they cross-dress. I want to learn more about transvestites and cross- dressing and wondered if I could come up to Manchester and spend some time with you over Easter? It would be great to meet some of your friends." I was surprised but pleased that my little sister wanted to learn more about my lifestyle and had no hesitation in inviting her to come and stay with Gavin and me, but offered an alternative option as to when she might come. "Easter might not be the best time for you to come over to Manchester" I started, "Gavin will be busy preparing for his finals exam and both you and I will need to put in some work on our end-of-year ones. Why don't you leave it until the end of the summer term and then come over for Sparkle? I know you will enjoy that and, if you genuinely want to learn more about the transgendered community, you won't find a better time or place to meet and talk to a wide range of people." Fiona thought this a splendid idea and jumped at the chance. Having made our farewells to my family, we drove across the country to Shrewsbury. Maureen, Robert and Sonia were there to welcome us and I felt relaxed in their company; I hoped Gavin had felt the same in Scarborough. Robert and Maureen traditionally hosted a big New Year's Eve party in their house and I spent a couple of days working with Maureen and Sonia in the kitchen helping prepare the food whilst Gavin and his Dad organised the drinks, glasses, party games, etc. It was funny; it just seemed natural for me to dress en femme working with the women in the kitchen, whilst Gavin slipped into male mode helping his Dad. This difference in our daytime images gave rise to a fair amount of joking and good humoured teasing. Needless to say, "Gloria" made her appearance for supper each evening! On New Year's Eve itself, we all made sure everything was set up for the party by mid-afternoon. Although Maureen and Robert's house was well supplied with bathrooms, four "women" all trying to make sure they looked their best at the same time, put quite a strain on the resources! Eventually, having washed and cleaned our bodies of any surplus hair, Gloria and I sat down in the bedroom we were sharing to apply our make-up and dither, once again, about what we should wear. After some deliberation, I settled on a black dress - always a safe choice - that fell to mid-calf and which was decorated around the lower part of the skirt with a swirl of pink ribbon. Over this I wore my favourite lace shrug. After playing about with various styles, I finally came to the conclusion that with this dress, my hair looked best falling loosely to my shoulders. Gloria settled on a silk, emerald green dress, with a scoop neck and a very low cut back. She looked so elegant and sophisticated; I fell in love with her all over again! The party was very jolly. I had met some of the guests on my previous visit to Shropshire in the summer and it was a nice feeling to know I was starting to build up a social life with Gloria's side of our partnership. Other people, whom I was meeting for the first time, mostly proved warm and welcoming. I find that whilst many people, often through ignorance and fear, make derogatory remarks about transvestites and transsexuals in general, most of those you meet face to face are intrigued by your dressing and open to a discussion about the reasons for your choice of lifestyle. Once the New Year celebrations were over, Gavin and I returned to Manchester and resumed our studies. It had been a good holiday and I was pleased about the way both our families were becoming comfortable about our relationship. The next big challenge ahead of us was that Gavin would have to start sorting out what he was going to do after he graduated in the summer. Subconsciously I guess we had both been avoid facing this issue. We had known all along that Gavin, being one year ahead of me at University, would graduate and move on, whilst I would still have my third year to complete. This was an uncomfortable truth to have to face as, depending on Gavin's choices, he might have to move away from Manchester and our home in Gladwin Road, leaving me behind. Neither of us wanted to be separated from the other, but needs must, and so we sat down to a serious conversation. The upshot was that we both agreed it would be foolish for Gavin to go for anything less than what he absolutely wanted to do. He had worked incredibly hard for three years as was on course to graduate with a First Class degree. He needed to make the most of the opportunities this would open up for him. If this meant us being apart for a while; many other couples faced similar dilemmas. If our relationship was a strong one it would survive our working on different things for a year.........and if it didn't; well, maybe a clean break-up would be for the best. Gavin decided he did not see his future in academe and set about applying for graduate entry jobs in various technological firms. At first he encountered all the usual frustrations of a student trying to get a toe-hold in the workplace; innumerable turndown letters; failed interviews; and even the rudeness of no replies. Eventually, however, as he learned from his early failures and refined his application writing, he started to get more interviews and in several instances got taken forward to a second, or even third, stage of the selection process. One glorious day I returned home from a tutorial to find an ecstatic Gavin clutching an opened letter in his hand, with a half empty bottle of champagne in front of him. "I'm sorry" he apologised, "but I couldn't wait for you to get home before starting the celebrations. I've received a fantastic job offer!" Of course I gave him a big hug and kiss of congratulation and asked him for details. He passed the letter over to me and I read it eagerly. He was right; it really was a fantastic offer. One of the most prestigious manufacturers of robotic machinery was offering him a position in their research and development department. This was exciting enough, but, in addition, he would spend his first year undertaking post-graduate studies at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology in Cambridge, USA! Apparently Robotic Solutions Inc, the parent company, which was American, looked at all the job offers made by it's subsidiary companies around the world and took the top 5% - of which Gavin was one - into a "fast-track" training scheme. It was a fabulous offer and one we both knew Gavin could not afford to turn down. "You can come out to Cambridge each vacation," Gavin said, holding my hands. "That was we will see each other every few months and, after all, a year is not that long a time; look how quickly time has passed for us here in Manchester." I fought back my tears, which were a mixture of joy and sadness, and said, "Yes, of course you have to accept this offer. As you say we will see each other regularly and. anyway, I'll be working my socks off to make sure I get a good degree in my final year." The first bottle of champagne was finished off in no time at all, and Gavin suggested we go into town and continue celebrating with our friends at the Purple Python. We hurriedly slipped into our feminine glad rags and "Gloria" and "Katy" set off to paint the town red. Suzy, Simone, Tessa and the others were suitably awed by Gloria's job offer and even more impressed at the offer of virtually unlimited champagne! Neither Gloria nor I could remember much about how the evening developed when we eventually awoke the following morning, flat out on the bed; still in our dresses; and with our make-up smeared across each others face! I vaguely recall dancing on a table with a terribly attractive man whom I had stripped of his shirt and which I was waving round my head as he groped my bottom. Not a night to be overly proud of, nor one to think too deeply about! By now it was nearly Easter and the exam season was upon us. For Gavin, his final exams were of vital importance. He had been predicted for a First Class Honours degree and, whilst his job offer was not conditional upon him achieving this, it certainly would do any harm to his status with his new employer. So we both buckled down to three weeks of serious revision and totally abandoned any pretence of a social life. Even our meals, which we normally took pleasure in preparing, became a succession of quick take- aways! But it paid off.....Gavin got his First and yet more champagne flowed at the Purple python! Then, suddenly, came the moment of truth. Although Gavin's course at MIT wouldn't be starting for several weeks, his new employers at Robotic Solutions Inc wanted him to spend the intervening time getting acquainted with the company at its Head Office in Boston. Our last night together in our little house at Gladwin Road was a bitter- sweet one. We did make love, but mostly just wanted to lie cuddling each other. As we lay there, Gavin rolled over toward me; "This is going to be an important testing time for both of us" he announced. "I am going to have to work really hard to make my mark with Robotic Solutions and you need to ensure you graduate with a good degree at the end of next year. I know we will see each other during your vacations but, realistically, we are each going to have to learn to stand on our two feet without the support of the other. I sincerely believe that our relationship will survive this temporary parting but a year is going to be a long time to remain chaste and we both have strong sexual drives. I think that if either of us is attracted to someone whilst we are apart, we should go with the flow. Our partnership is strong enough to withstand a few "one-night" flings, and if anything more serious develops, then you and I were clearly not destined to be a long-term two-some." I burst into tears at this point because I had been having similar thoughts but had been too ashamed to put my thoughts into words. Now Gavin had done for both of us. "I have been thinking along similar lines" I confessed. "I can't see myself wanting to sleep with anyone else - you have spoilt me for that! - but, as you say, none of us can predict the future. I agree; "go with the flow" but we must be honest with each other. I don't mean we have to "kiss and tell" every time we go out with someone, but when we meet we should not hide it if our feelings for each other have changed." And on that note we both fell asleep, cradled in each others arms. Not that we slept for long. At 5am the alarm clock went off and we staggered out of bed and into the shower. Gavin's flight to Boston was at 9:00am and I had to get him to the Airport by 7:00 - never an easy journey at that time of the morning. Gavin had made over his little car to me, so I drove him to Manchester Airport. Neither of us spoke much; everything had been said the previous evening. I parked the car and walked with Gavin to check-in and the security gate. Here we parted; no tears, just a big hug and a promise from Gavin that he would text me when he got to Boston to let me know he had arrived safely. I watched him walk away before turning and going back to the car. As I drove back to Manchester I couldn't help reflecting just how much my life had changed since meeting Gavin/Gloria a mere two years ago. I loved him deeply and found it hard to envisage what life would be like in Manchester without him. Our little house, normally so full of laughter and happiness, seemed lifeless as I entered it and I wondered whether I would still be living in it when term started. I certainly couldn't afford to rent it on my own and I couldn't envisage sharing it with some new student. It looked like it was going to be a long, sad summer.