Flat Mates - Part 3 - Chapter 13 - A Parting Of The Ways free porn video

FLAT MATES - Part 3 Chapter 13 - "A Parting of the Ways" The first few days after Gavin flew to America I mopped about the house, listless and without any energy to do anything. I couldn't even be bothered to dress properly and wandered about in a pair of women's satin pyjamas and a towelling dressing gown. I didn't bother to shave and my long hair soon became a tangled mess. I looked frightful! Deep inside I knew I would have to snap out of this lethargy; Gloria would not have approved of my looking such a fright. But it was difficult; I had had time to get accustomed to the idea that Gavin and I would only see each other infrequently over the next year and, in theory, that all made sense. What I hadn't anticipated was the extent to which I missed his company. It wasn't just the sex; for the last two years our lives had been completely interwoven and I was at a loss as to what to do without him. Eventually it was Sally, my lab partner at UMIST, who helped me get my act back together. One day she rang me, "Hi KT." I heard her friendly voice on the phone. "I'm ringing to ask a favour. What are you planning to do about accommodation next term? Have you found a flat mate to replace Gavin?" I confirmed - 1) I hadn't made any plans; and 2) I couldn't face the thought of sharing my home with another male student after having lived for two years with Gavin. "Well," Sally continued, "if you don't want to share with another man; what about a girl? The girl I was going to share with has just given me back-word on the flat we were going to rent and I am looking for somewhere to live myself; how about it?" This was too good to be true. Sally was a really good friend - we had even dated briefly during our first year - and we were going to have to spend a lot of time working together anyway in connection with our third year project. Added to that, she knew all about my dressing habits and would not be shocked to see me in a skirt and heels. I said that I would love to have her as my new flat mate and asked her when she would like to move in. Sally explained that she had arranged to go travelling with a girlfriend for most of the summer and probably wouldn't join me until mid-September. That was fine with me; my sister Fiona was coming to stay with me shortly and then I was going to be busy for the rest of the summer. After Sally rang off, my recollection of Fiona's forthcoming visit reminded me of another reason why I needed to snap out of my lethargic state. I had a regular weekly job as the Friday-night Duty Manager at the Purple Python Club in Manchester's Gay Village. The previous year Sol, the owner of the club, had experimented with all-day opening during the prestigious Sparkle Festival for the transgendered and had continued to offer a reduced day-time service for the rest of the summer. I had been fortunate enough to have had the job of Day-time Manager and had loved the work. This year Sol was pushing the boat out even further. He had already asked me if I would be prepared to return as his Day-time Manager - (I had accepted with alacrity) - and, in addition, had asked me to come up with some suggestions for special events during the Sparkle weekend. I had given Sol my ideas a few weeks earlier and he had accepted all of them; I had started to get things set up but there were dozens of details that still needed nailing down. I would have to pull myself together and get stuck in. For those unfamiliar with Sparkle, it is a festival for the transgendered held in Manchester's Gay Village over a long weekend in July each year. It attracts hundreds of visitors - cross-dressers; drag queens; transsexuals; boys; girls - participants of every persuasion! Needless to say it also attracts a lot of "admirers" and casual tourists. For Sol at the Purple Python, Sparkle represented a major opportunity to boost sales. I had been asked to come up with ideas that would attract extra visitors to the Club but that would not increase overheads unduly. I already had a good staffing model from last year and knew how many waiters and waitresses I would need to hire. We also had the stock of multi-coloured French Maid's dresses for the waiting staff to wear. (Sol insisted that for the Sparkle weekend all his staff, transgendered or not, wear dresses.) What I needed to add were some special events that would attract the punters. I had come up with three propositions, one for each day of the Festival. Attendees of Sparkle tend to travel up to Manchester on the Friday of the event and, by the evening are raring to go and get the party started. I had suggested that we hold a sophisticated Cocktail Party where evening dress was "de rigueur". We had advertised this on the Sparkle web-site and bookings were already coming in. For the Saturday, we were going to run a "talent contest" and, again, I had advertised for singers, comedians, musicians, speciality performers - all of whom worked in drag. I was already well on the way to building an interesting bill for the evening's entertainment. Finally, for Sunday lunch-time, we were offering and opportunity to "Sparkle," with people asked to attend a brunch in their most glittery outfits. As I say, Sol was delighted with these suggestions and had asked me to be Events Manager for the weekend - (someone else would take over running my day-shifts for those three days.) I now needed to get my brain in gear and check progress against the extensive lists I had prepared. All of this helped get me back on the straight and level after my appalling lapse into maudlin introspection. I started by giving myself a very close shave before going to a nearby beauty parlour, where I was a fairly regular client, for a full-body wax, manicure and pedicure. I then booked an appointment with my hairdresser to get my roots re-coloured and my hair cut and styled ready for the Sparkle weekend. I felt much better after I was once again groomed and presentable. Fiona arrived from Bristol the weekend before Sparkle, full of excitement both at the prospect of attending the Festival and because she would, at last, meet my tranny friends and gain a better understanding of my lifestyle. I had emailed her details of the events I would be running at the Purple Python and, when she arrived at my house, she proudly announced that she had put together an act for the Saturday evening talent show. "But you are a real girl" I protested; "this event is for cross-dressed men." "I know," she replied, "but that is where the clever bit of my idea comes in. You and I are going to perform a karaoke duet of the song "Sisters" from the film "White Christmas" - you remember; it was first sung by the two girl stars in the film and then hilariously reprised by Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye." "Of course I remember the song," I said, "but that still doesn't get round the fact that you are still a real girl." "We will both dress as over the top Drag Queens," Fiona reposted. "I'll bet you that by the time I'm ready, no one will ever suspect that I am not a man!" Well it sounded fun so, with some trepidation I agreed to go along with her scheme. "I'll sort out our costumes," Fiona offered. "Just give me a few addresses of costumiers and tranny shops in Manchester and I'll get on the case." I did so, naturally starting with my friend Frankie's dressing service. I left Fiona to it and carried on sorting out the last minute details before the weekend kicked off. Fiona insisted that each evening the two of us practice the routine she had worked out, lip-syncing to a recording of the "Sisters" song. I found I was actually enjoying rehearsing! Naturally Fiona wasn't prepared to wait several days until Sparkle started before visiting The Village and insisted I take her to the Purple Python on the Saturday evening after she arrived. Although Fiona had had a busy day trawling around shops for our karaoke costumes, she still dressed up to the nines. "After all I can't have people saying my brother has a better dress sense than I do" she declared! I decided this was a competition I need to let Fiona win, so settled for a relatively modest outfit of gold trousers teamed with a pink cashmere jumper and strappy gold sandals. Fiona, when she emerged from her bedroom, looked stunning. She was wearing a white, Grecian- style dress, sleeveless and cut in a deep vee showing off her cleavage to advantage; the skirt fell half way down her thighs in the front but to her calves at the back. She too wore strappy sandals, but hers were laced almost to the knee. Her dark hair was piled on her head in an elaborate style with ringlets falling either side of her face. I had never seen my little sister look so sophisticated and I told her so. "I've been working on the hairstyle for weeks," she confessed. "Much of it is based around a hair-piece but I think it works." I hastened to agree with her and, arm in arm; we set off for the club. Fortunately Fiona had provided herself with an enveloping wrap as she was an invitation to dalliance in her skimpy dress. All my friends at the Python were entranced by Fiona and her bubbly personality soon ensured she was a welcome member of our group. She attracted the eye of some of the club's regular lesbians and was soon being asked if she would like to dance. Being a very open minded girl, she had no difficulty in accepting some of these offers and even seemed to enjoy some of the slow, smoochy numbers. However there was one member of our little circle of trannies who seemed to particularly catch Fiona's eye. It was Bridget (nee Barry), one of my co-students at UMIST. (S)he was sitting shyly to one side looking at Fiona with obvious admiration. After a while, when a new round of drinks arrived, Fiona moved over to sit next to Bridget and engaged her in conversation. Bridget had always been a nervous cross-dresser and I was pleased to see her relaxing and smiling as she and Fiona started chatting. The evening ended all too soon for Fiona and she was on a high as we made our way back to my house. "What a fantastic evening" she enthused. "You have a fabulous circle of friends and I particularly like Bridget; she is a great girl". I could see Fiona was smitten and smiled inwardly. Maybe I wasn't the only one in our family who had a penchant for the alternative lifestyle! The next week was an extremely busy one for me as I made sure everything was in place ready for Sparkle. Fiona was a great help, cross-checking rotas, helping the waiting staff with their dress fittings, and a hundred other things. Suddenly the weekend was upon us! The Friday evening cocktail party was scheduled to kick off at 8pm and I was down at the club by 6pm putting the final touches to the arrangements. Garry, our barman - (Gladys for this weekend) - had invented a new "Sparkle" cocktail for the occasion and we were going to serve these alongside Kir Royale, Bellinis, etc. The kitchen staff had prepared dozens of canap?s and I briefed my two senior waitresses to ensure that they didn't bring everything out at once; we needed to ensure there were sufficient supplies to last the whole evening. We had advertised the event as "de rigueur evening dress," so I had scoured ebay for a suitable gown. As front of house hostess, I needed to look elegant and sophisticated without upstaging the paying guests. I had found just the right outfit and had bought for a song! It was heavy black taffeta; full-length, with cowl shoulders and neckline, a tightly corseted waist, falling to sweeping skirt that just skimmed the floor. (I couldn't risk catching my heel in the hem and falling flat on my face!) My jewellery consisted of black and crystal glass beads, and I wore my hair up on one side and falling gently down my face on the other. If I say so myself, I looked pretty good! Fiona had settled for a figure hugging, strapless number in red; slit to the knee in the front and with a little fishtail train. I was amused to note that, on arrival, she made a bee-line for Bridget, who was wearing a dress in her signature Kelly-green. The cocktail party was a great success. We must have had some three hundred guests and by the end of the evening Sol had a broad smile as he reckoned up the takings. The following night, Saturday, was our Talent Contest. I had asked Bella Jay, the editor of Repartee magazine, to judge the acts and to present a small prize - 3 bottles of champagne - to the overall winner. ("Repartee" is a prestigious, glossy UK magazine for the transgendered community). In total there were 10 acts; some solo performances; other, like Fiona and me, duos or groups. I acted as MC for the first half, introducing each performer in turn. The overall standard was very high. There were some very good solo musicians and a couple of excellent rock bands. Inevitably there were one or two blue-comedians! During the interval I changed out of my black evening gown into my Drag- Queen costume ready to sing "Sisters". Fiona had excelled herself and produced two of the most vulgar outfits it has ever been my misfortune to see. My dress was bright green, figure hugging, and covered in sequins. I wore a vivid red wig - (which totally crushed my own carefully crafted hair!) - and high platform shoes with what must have been an eight inch heel. (I only got away with wearing them because the platforms themselves must have been at least three inches high!) I changed my make-up from sophisticated to "over the top" - long curling lashes; high, arched brows; garish eye-shadow; and bright red lipstick. If I thought I looked a fright, Fiona appeared even worse! She had really gone to town in disguising the fact that she was a real girl. She had padded her body into a real roly-poly figure and then stuffed her bra to give her an E or F bust-line. Her make-up was even more over the top than mine and I marvelled at the fact she was able to keep her eyes open, so long and heavy were her false lashes. For her dress she had found - goodness only knows where - some sort of white and gold outfit that, from a high neckline, billowed over her obese body before falling into a tight skirt that ended half way down her thighs. On her feet she wore lace-up black patent leather ankle boots and had found herself a severe black wig cut in a page-boy style; we made a really striking pair! Our performance of "Sisters" went down a storm and, secretly, I thought we were the success of the evening. However, it would never do for the organiser of the event to win first prize, so I had briefed Bella Jay accordingly. In the event, she awarded the prize to a very good ballad singer who sang several of her own compositions. After Fiona and I had opened the second half, I MC'd the rest of the evening in my Drag Queen outfit. (Was I pleased to kick off the platform heels at the end of the evening!) So, two successful events under our belt and just the Sunday "Sparkle Brunch" to come; Fiona and I retired home tired but elated. Fortunately Sunday dawned bright and sunny. It had been my hope that we could make use of our outdoor space for the brunch and my prayers had been answered. I went in early and helped my team set up the bar and catering tables. We were offering a mixture of breakfast and lunch dishes - muffins, croissants, coffee; alongside barbequed burgers and sausages with beer and wine. My plea for everyone to "sparkle" had had its effect. All those who came looked stunning; there must have been a million sequins wandering around our little patch! I had found myself a great little outfit; a gold mini-skirt entirely covered with sequins, it glittered whenever light fell on it. I had teamed this with a metallic blouson-jacket in a swirly pattern of bronze and black on a silver ground, worn over a black silk camisole. Knee-high black leather boots completed the ensemble. The turn out was fantastic - I lost count of the number of people we served - and everyone seemed to be having a good time. By the end of Sunday afternoon I was on my knees; I had never worked so hard in my life! Sol was over the moon about how successful our efforts had been and paid me a serious bonus on the spot - in cash! Fiona and I spent Sunday evening curled up at home. She told me how much she had enjoyed her visit and hoped she could come again. I could tell, from the way she kept mentioning his/her name, that Barry/Bridget had made a big impression on her. I challenged her about him. "Yes I do like him," she replied. "As Bridget she is such a warm lovely person. I can see how dressing helps bring out another side to your personality. You, for instance, are totally different when you are Katy as compared with how you behave as Kerris. I am definitely going to explore more of the scene in Bristol when I go back to Uni next term." "Oh well," I thought, "another shock coming for our parents; Fiona is becoming a "tranny-lover"!" Fiona was going over to Scarborough to spend time with our parents, so, on the Monday morning; I drove her to Piccadilly Station and saw her onto the train. She gave me a goodbye hug. "Send my love to Gloria next time you talk to her" she called out as her train drew away. After Sparkle, the rest of the summer was a bit of an anticlimax. I resumed my duties as Day Manager and Friday Night relief at the Python, but I knew how to do these jobs standing on my head; I missed the buzz of adrenalin that running one-off events had generated. Still it was good money and very useful for an impoverished student with a serious shopping habit to indulge! Not that I did much shopping that summer. I still missed Gavin/Gloria terribly and without him/her there just wasn't the incentive to get prettied up and go out on the town. Sally came back from her travels and moved into Gladwin Road in early September. At first it felt strange sharing a house with a girl and I resisted dressing in my female clothes, keeping to androgynous jeans and fleeces. After a few days Sally said to me, "Katy, it is stupid you're pretending that you aren't a cross-dresser just because I am now living with you. I may not have ever seen you fully made over, but I have seen you wearing female garments often enough at Uni not to be shocked by the thought of you in a dress. Now go and get changed and you can put on a little fashion show for me of your favourite outfits." I knew I was being stupid, so did not hesitate to accede to her request. We had a great evening trying on clothes, because it did not take Sally long before she wanted to join in. To my surprise she had no qualms about stripping to her underwear in front of me. She enthused over my clothes; told me I had a very good dress sense; and earmarked several outfits she said she wanted to borrow. "We seem to share the same dress size," she announced, "which is brilliant as it means I can borrow some of your things and you can try some of mine in return." Maybe sharing a house with a girl will turn out OK after all! For our third year at University, Sally and I had to undertake a small-scale research project. This was primarily intended to test our knowledge of research tools and practices. It was, however, something we needed to get right as it would contribute in no small way to our final year grades and hence the level of degree with which we would graduate. We talked long and hard about possible topics for us to look into but without coming up with anything that really enthused us. Eventually I came up with an off the wall suggestion; "We have been considering practical, technological possibilities for our research" I started. "Why don't we come at it from another angle and think about the users of technology rather than the producers." This opened up a new avenue of discussion and eventually we came up with an idea that both of us felt excited by. Our idea was to survey a number of major users of technology and, also, some manufacturers to try and establish the extent to which there was a match between the products being developed and the real needs of the consumers. The upshot was that we wrote this up as a formal proposal and submitted it to our tutor. To our delight he approved our idea - in fact, went so far as to say this was a piece of work that had been crying out to be undertaken for some time. We started back at UMIST for our third and final year and immediately got stuck into our project work. I knew I would have to work hard during my final year if I wanted to graduate with a good degree, so most of the autumn term was taken up with study and project work. In order not to get stale, however, Sally and I allowed ourselves one night out each week. Often this was just a visit to the cinema or the theatre, as a night of serious drinking would take out more than just the one evening! We did, however, allow ourselves the occasional luxury of inviting friends round for a meal. In the main these tended to be Sally's girlfriends as my friends were more club orientated. I was dressing regularly at home now and it was amusing to see the ease with which Sally's friends accepted me as "just one of the girls" to the extent that one night, when our dinner party had gone on longer than usual, and Sally suggested that our guests might care to sleep over, I was surprised to hear her suggest; "Mary, you can bunk up with me and Alice, why don't you share with Katy?" I was about to point out that regardless of how I was dressed, I was still a man underneath and was it entirely inappropriate for me to share a bed with Alice, when both girls said, "Fine"! With some trepidation, I followed the other three upstairs. Sally and Mary went into Sally's room and Alice turned into mine. "Do you have a nighty I can borrow, Katy?" she enquired. Silently I handed her one. She then turned her back to me and asked if I could help her unzip her dress. I did so, somewhat reluctantly, and Alice stepped out of it and stood there in her undies as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "Do you need a hand?" she next asked and I mumbled something about "I was OK and didn't need any help, thank you." Alice went off to the bathroom and came back wearing the nightdress I had lent her. I had had time to realise that if Alice was cool with the fact that I was a man, it would only heighten embarrassment if I behaved oddly, so I had taken off my skirt and top and stood there in my bra, knickers and tights when she returned. As Alice slipped into bed, I scurried into the bathroom, did my business and pulled my nighty over my head. I climbed into bed alongside Alice. "Goodnight," she said, turning her back to me and putting out the light. I breathed a sigh of relief; maybe it would be OK after all. I slept soundly and awoke somewhat disorientated by the fact that I was spooned up against another body with my hand resting on a soft breast. Even more alarming was the fact that I had woken up with an "early morning stiffie" and my cock was pressed firmly against Alice's bottom! She rolled over with a lazy smile. "Good morning Katie. You seem very pleased to see me; we will have to do something so as not to waste your lovely erection!" So saying, she took my cock in her hand and started stroking it. "Mmm; not as long as some I've known, but nice and firm. I'm sure we can think of some way to enjoy this" She raised herself in the bed and straddled my supine body. I know I should have said or done something to stop her but I just lay there speechless. Alice lowered herself onto me and moaned gently as I penetrated her. She started to rock back and forward.....and still I said nothing. I suppose, technically, I was being raped - I had not consented to sex - but I hadn't made love to a woman for over two years and it was a novel experience. Alice was a good lover and held me back so that we came together. "Great way to start a morning" she smiled as she rolled off me. She climbed out of bed, shedding her dirty nighty in the process and went off to the bathroom, leaving me lying in the damp patch! Alice returned from the bathroom stark naked and, clearly, totally unabashed. "Your turn sweetums," she said, pulling the covers off me. As I stood up, Alice gave me a long kiss. "Don't worry," she whispered in my ear, "I know I'm a bit predatory, but this is strictly a "one night stand"; I know you are in a serious relationship." By the time I had showered, Alice was half dressed and sitting at my vanity putting on her make-up. I put on a clean bra and knickers and slipped my breast forms into place. A pair of jeans, sweater, knee-highs, and flatties completed my ensemble and I ran a brush through my hair as Alice finished dressing. Sally and Mary were already downstairs having breakfast when Alice and I came down. From the grins on their faces I knew that they were fully aware of what we had been up to, but nothing was said. Alice and Mary left and Sally made the two of us a second pot of coffee. "I feel so ashamed," I confessed, as tears started to run down my cheeks. "For goodness sake why?" responded Sally. "Mary and I had a good "girl on girl" session together before we got up; what's so wrong with you and Alice having a bit of fun?" "But what about Gavin?" I sobbed. "I know we gave each other permission to have the odd fling for sexual relief, but this is the first time I have been unfaithful to him...and it is with a girl!" "But did you enjoy it?" continued Sally. "Well yes, actually I did," I told her. "Well that's alright then. Alice won't try and make anything more out of it; she's a real "one night" girl and you main predilection is towards men not women. Tell Gavin if you must, but don't over dramatise it." Good advice which, eventually, I accepted. Fortunately the Christmas vacation was approaching fast and there were only a couple of weeks of term remaining. I was due to fly out to Boston the day after term ended to spend Christmas and New Year with Gavin. He had emailed me and told me that he had booked us into a motel near MIT for the two weeks I would be in the States. Unfortunately his room mate, Eustace, was also staying in Cambridge for the holidays and hence would need the room they shared. This didn't cause me any problem. So long as I was sharing a bed with Gavin, I didn't care whether it was in College or a motel. Gavin also warned me that whilst there was a fairly relaxed attitude towards gays and lesbians at MIT, transgender was less accepted. He had made no secret of the fact that he was gay and in a relationship with me. He suggested I present myself as an effeminate male, rather than as a cross-dresser, but asked me to bring out some pretty lingerie for private use "for old time's sake"." Needless to say I packed my prettiest scanties and couldn't resist slipping a dress, a couple of skirts, and some tops into my luggage. I experienced no problems going through Immigration and Customs at Boston Airport, although my heart was in my mouth the whole time in case anyone noticed anything unusual about my belongings. Gavin was waiting to meet me as I exited Customs and we embraced warmly. Although we had emailed each other and talked on Skype, it had been nearly five months since we had seen each other in the flesh. Gavin had rented a car for the duration of my stay and had listed me as a driver. He explained that as Christmas is not seen as such a major holiday in the US as it is in the UK, he would still have to attend some lectures. With the car I would be able to explore the surrounding area. I had never been to Boston before and was looking forward to visiting the Museum of Fine Arts and the Isabella Stewart Gardner collection. We drove to the motel where we would be staying and were soon making up for lost time in the romance stakes! As we lay in bed afterwards, Gavin turned to me; "I've booked a table for dinner this evening and have invited Eustace to join us. I'm sure this wouldn't be your first choice of how we should spend the evening, but I need to introduce you to Eustace as soon as possible. As you know we share a room together and, it so happens, that he is also gay - although not a cross-dresser. We have, from time to time over the last few months, pleasured each other when the sexual tension became too extreme to bear. It is nothing serious as he is also in a permanent relationship back home, but I thought it best you meet him and can see for yourself that nothing has interfered with the love I have for you." I cried a little at this news, but was glad in a way as it made it easier for me to tell Gavin about Alice. We dried each others tears and made up in the best possible way!!! That evening, Gavin I suggested I dress a little flamboyantly; he had told people that I was openly gay and somewhat camp. He had not told them that I habitually walked around Manchester in heels and a skirt.......nor that he did the same! I dressed as Gavin suggested and also varnished my nails a very pale pink and put on a little mascara and lip-gloss. Naturally I had earrings in my pierced ears. Eustace turned out to be a thoroughly nice fellow and soon put my fears to rest. I could see why Gavin liked him....I quite fancied him myself! We had a very pleasant meal together as I told Eustace about my life as a cross- dresser in Manchester and he explained the difficulties he had experienced as a gay growing up in a small Mid-West town. Gavin and Eustace told me that whilst Christmas would be a rather low key affair in Cambridge, New Year was going to be a great deal livelier. The Gay and Lesbian Societies of MIT and Harvard were combining for a "black-tie" ball. As we all drank a bit too much and got rather merry, Eustace said; "It's a shame this is Cambridge, USA rather than Manchester, England as, if we were over there you could wear a ball-gown, KT. I'd love to see you all dressed up in your finery. I bet you make a fabulous girl." "Well why not?" responded Gavin. "Katy could just get away with it. As an Englishman and a visitor, he could get away with things you and I as MIT post-grads never could. What do think Katy; are you up for it?" Well, in for a penny in for a pound, so of course I said, "Yes!" We agreed I should try and find myself a dress before the shops shut for Christmas as it might be a bit of a rush trying to sort things out between Christmas and New Year. So the following Monday I laced myself into my corset and put on a bra - but left my forms out so that I could overdress in male clothing. I could always slip them into my bra when it came to trying on a dress. I had logged on to the internet, using my iPad, and had tracked down a few dress hire stores in the Boston area that seemed from their adverts to be tranny friendly. I drove to the first one on my list and struck pay-dirt at once. The lady behind the counter showed no sign of embarrassment at all when I told her I was looking to hire an evening dress for myself to attend a black-tie ball. "Yes dear. And what sort of dress were you thinking of?" she asked. I told her, "Something elegant; classic; and not too revealing." She cottoned on at once and, having ascertained my dress size - (converting from UK to US sizes along the way) - hurried to get out a few possibilities for me to look at. I knew the dress I wanted the instant I saw it; it was a bright red taffeta; tightly fitted at the bust but falling to the floor in voluminous skirts with a chiffon over-skirt. Fairly broad straps ran over each shoulder but the piece-de-resistance was that it came with a matching cowl/shawl that would cover my shoulders and provide a modicum of modesty if the gays and lesbians of Cambridge took umbrage at the sight of a man in a dress! It fitted me perfectly and I hired it for New Year on the spot; together with matching shoes and black "above the elbow" evening gloves. Before driving back to Cambridge, I decided that this dress demanded I wear stockings rather than pantyhose, so I stopped off at J C Penney and purchased a suspender belt and a pack of sheer, seamed nylons. Back at the motel, I looked up the number for beauty salons/hairdressers in the vicinity of the hire shop and rang around until I found one that was willing to take a male customer and beautify him into femininity and made an appointment for New Year's Eve. In the event Christmas turned out to be more fun than I had thought it might be. There were quite a number of students staying on at MIT over the holidays, so the catering department organised a Christmas lunch. Gavin and I sat at a table with Eustace and some other of Gavin's friends. The food was excellent; the wine flowed; the conversation was animated; and a good time was had by all. (Naturally, on this occasion, I wore male attire!) Before going for lunch Gavin and I swapped small presents and enjoyed a bottle of fizz together. On the afternoon of New Year's Eve, I dressed in one of the female outfits I had brought over from England; did the best I could with my hair; and drove over to the mall outside Boston where I had made the appointment to get my hair, nails and make-up done. The assistant in the salon - Monica - was very sweet and did her best to put me at my ease. After three years of using them, ladies beauty parlours held no terrors for me, but some of the other customers looked somewhat outraged when they discovered I was actually a man. These were in the minority however, and one customer even went so far as to compliment me on my skirt and ask where I had purchased it. When I explain I had got it in Marks and Spencer in Manchester she was so delighted to discover I was English that she insisted on taking the chair next to mine so that we could continue chatting. The four hours it took to colour and set my hair; give me a manicure and pedicure; and a complete make over, passed very quickly in enjoyable conversation. As ever, I found that for most people, once they have got over the initial shock, meeting a cross-dresser is not the trauma they had feared. After the beauty salon I drove to the Hire shop to pick up my dress. The lady there was most complimentary about my appearance and expressed her sorrow at not being able to see me at the ball. We compromised and I allowed her to zip me into the dress so that she could see the whole effect. "It just needs the right jewellery," the shop owner mussed. "I know," and she bustled off into a back room from whence she returned with a gorgeous set of fake pearl necklace and earrings. The necklace comprised three rows of pearls, joined together by a small flower shaped set of pearls to one side. The earrings were a heavy, half hoop of tiny pearls. They looked fantastic with the dress and really did complete the overall effect. "You look so lovely, I want you to have these on free loan," she said. I thanked her profusely for her kindness and promised faithfully to return everything the day after New Year. On my return to the motel I told Gavin to make himself scarce whilst I got ready. I wanted to surprise him with my dress. When I was fully glammed up and everything was just so, I let him back into our room. His in-draw of breath told me I had achieved what I set out to do. "Katy you are absolutely beautiful," he gasped. "I've always known that you scrub up well, but this time you have surpassed yourself!" "Thank you kind sir," I replied, smiling as I dropped into a curtsey. "I'm just so jealous that I can't wear a dress like that too" he grumbled. "Don't complain," I replied, "you look dishy yourself in that tuxedo." And indeed he did; I had never seen Gavin in male black-tie before and he was very handsome. "I shall enjoy walking into the ball on your arm" I told him. "All the other girls - not to mention the chaps - will be envious of me." We did indeed turn heads as we walked into the ballroom. Remember this was a Gay Ball and those who knew him were expecting Gavin to turn up with his English boyfriend. Who was this strange lady he was escorting? His friends soon put two and two together and came over to congratulate me both on my appearance and for having the balls - pardon the pun - to come to the ball cross-dressed. Of course there were many people there who did not know Gavin and really mistook me for a real woman. During the course of the evening a few dyke lesbians approached me and asked if I would dance with them. I invariably said yes and then tried to let them down gently when they realised I was actually a cross-dressed man and not a femme lesbian after all. It was a great evening and we saw the New Year in in style. We probably had too much to drink as I can remember having to be helped into a cab at the end of the evening by both Gavin and Eustace. They were in no better state that I was and somehow Eustace ended up with us back in our motel. It was far too late for him to try and make his way back to college, so we invited him to sleep over. I can remember insisting that the two chaps help me out of my dress and jewellery - (I retained enough sense to know I couldn't risk spoiling them) - and the whoop of delight from Eustace when he saw I was wearing stockings and suspenders - (or "garters" as he insisted on calling them!) There after things got a bit blurry until the following morning when I awoke to find myself wedged between the two of them bereft of my panties and very much in the "damp spot"! The two men were naked - (except that for some reason Eustace still had his socks on. Is there any sight more ridiculous than a man nude except for his socks?) I wriggled my way out of bed and left Gavin and Eustace in each others arms, snoring gently. I had showered, redone my make-up and dressed in a simple skirt and top before either of them showed any sign of lift. "Get up the pair of you" I laughingly chided them. "It's the New Year and I expect you to take me out to lunch." To be fair they did manage to pull themselves together and we enjoyed a very good lunch in a little restaurant down by the Charles River. I said goodbye to Eustace outside the restaurant. I was flying back to London the following evening and had to return all my hired finery before then. I told him I hoped we would meet again and that I was very glad Gavin had made such a good friend during his time at MIT. Eustace thanked me for my generosity in "loaning" him Gavin for a few months. "I know he really loves you" he told me. "What the two of us get up to is sex pure and simple, but with you he makes love." This statement brought tears to my eyes and I had to make some joke about him shutting up before I ruined my mascara. Eustace smiled gently; he could see through my pretence and knew I was, in reality, very moved by what he had told me. I gave him a long warm kiss and made him promise to come and see us if he was ever in the UK. The following day I returned the dress and jewellery to the Hire store and, of course, had to tell the owner everything about the ball and how it had gone. I managed to satisfy her curiosity without revealing all my secrets, but it was a close run thing! Gavin then drove me to the airport and we enjoyed a few tearful minutes before I went through security to catch my flight back to Manchester. On the flight home I reflected on how lucky I was. I had a wonderful partner in Gavin/Gloria and a relationship that could weather separation and casual infidelity; a place at one of the best universities in England and on course for a good, if not spectacular degree; and, most important of all, comfortable with who and what I was. What more could you ask for? Back in Manchester it was straight into study. Before Christmas Sally and I had circulated questionnaires to companies which had indicated a willingness to participate in our research project. The next week or so should see these coming back and then the hard work of analysis would start. In the event we had a very high rate of return and our initial findings indicated some interesting tensions between suppliers and customers. Our finished paper had to be submitted before the Easter break and our tutor had said he would like to see an initial draft a month before that so that he could comment and offer advice on our writing and presentation techniques - we just about managed to meet his deadline! As you can imagine this meant that Sally and I had no time at all for socialising for about 10 weeks and, the evening after we had handed in our draft, we both felt ready for a night on the town. Sally decided to go to the cinema with a group of her friends. She indicated that I would be very welcome to join them, but I fancied going into The Village. I had hardly been there, other than when working at the Python, for most of this academic year. So I gussied up and set off got town. With hindsight - always the most reliable indicator! - I should probably have done things differently. For a start my outfit was far too tarty. I chose to wear a VERY tight, black, silky skirt; it was so tight you could easily see the bumps of my suspender clasps through it! My top was a burgundy, heavy faux-silk, ruched blouse with long sleeves and a wide, boat- shaped neckline. I wore it off the shoulder, thereby displaying my bra straps to all and sundry. The blouse was worn outside my skirt and I had a wide black belt with a pretty butterfly clasp. My stockings were sheer and off-black in colour and I wore them with a pair of 4 inch, black patent, spike-heeled pumps. I kept the jewellery relatively simple; an amber and black circular pendant hanging from a row of beads and dangly amber earrings. Not having had time to visit the hairdressers for several weeks, my, usually well groomed, locks were a mess with dark roots indicating I was sorely in need of a cut and colour. So I wore a wig; a long auburn one that fell straight and loose to my shoulders. My make-up was heavily applied and garish. A black shoulder bag for a girl's essentials and I was ready to hit the town. My first port of call was, of course, the Purple Python. My girlfriends were all pleased to see me and I soon satisfied there curiosity as to why I hadn't been around socialising for a while. Not have been out for ages, I hit the booze too hard and too fast. Everyone wanted to buy me a drink and I knocked them back one after the other. This had the effect of making me rather loud and stroppy and, to my shame, an argument I was having with one of the girls developed into a bit of a cat fight. It didn't quite come to blows, but we had to be physically separated. I stormed out in a fit of pique. Once outside I started to sober up. What was I going to do now? I was blowed if I was going back into the Python and apologise and it was far too early to call it a night and go home, so I wandered off to Giovanni's. Whilst trannies did occasionally frequent Giovanni's, it was more a club for gay men and, on previous occasions, I had generally gone in male mode. However tonight I didn't care and I felt quite brazen as I carefully navigated the steep steps in my tight skirt and high heels. There was quite a crowd in, including my old friend Alec who had spent the last two-half years trying to get into my knickers! I sauntered over to him. "Hi lover boy" I drawled "fancy buying a lonely girl a drink?" He didn't need asking twice and in seconds we were seated in a secluded booth with our drinks in front of us. At heart Alec is a great guy and I was very fond of him; it was just that he never missed an opportunity to try and get off with me; tonight was no exception. After a few minutes catching up with what we had each been doing since we last met - Alec was particularly interested to hear about my trip to America - he started his "come-on". At first it was his hand on my thigh. "Um, suspenders and stockings tonight, you sexy thing," he murmured. "Stop it," I replied, slapping his hand away. "You know I'm a good girl - at least as far as you are concerned!" But secretly I was enjoying it. I hadn't had a chance to flirt since America and I do enjoy being flattered. Alec persisted and before long he had his arm round my shoulder and we were sitting hip to hip. I looked up at him and smiled; "You are naughty, but I like you!" Lifting my face I made to gave him what I thought would be a friendly peck on the check but which he, turning, transformed into a real kiss. Alec is a good kisser and I could feel a glow starting inside me. I returned his kiss, opening my mouth to allow him to tongue me. Immediately his other hand was on my knee. This time I didn't protest and I wasn't surprised when it started creeping up my leg, under my skirt. Alec spent a few moments playing with my suspenders and I shuddered openly as he continued onto my bare thigh. By now we were seriously snogging, but I managed to break away long enough to gasp; "Let's get out of here. I'm not in a teasing mood tonight and we don't want to get slung out for bad behaviour. Grabbing our things we hurried out of the club and into the first taxi we could flag down. In the cab we carried on kissing but kept it to that. Alec instructed the driver to take us to his flat. The ride up in the lift gave me time to catch my breath and reflect, briefly, on what I was doing. For the first time ever I was deliberately going to be unfaithful to Gavin. I know he had been unfaithful to me with Eustace but this wasn't "get your own back time"; this was lust pure and simple. I needed sex and Alec was clearly more than happy to oblige me. We went into Alec's flat and I excused myself to go to the bathroom. Whilst I was horny I wasn't too drunk not to make sure I had a supply of condoms in my bag. I took the opportunity to refresh my make-up and tidy my hair. I also splashed a little water on my face and wrists to cool me down. If I was going to indulge in a night of illicit passion, I wanted to take time and enjoy it; not "wham, bam, thank you Mam!" I returned to Alec in the lounge. He had poured us each a drink and for a few moments we sat sipping them, smiling foolishly at each across the sofa. Eventually I could stand the tension no longer and put my drink down on the table. Sliding across to Alec I wrapped my arms round him and kissed him - mouth wide open. He needed no further encouragement and, laying me down on the sofa, put his hand up my skirt and started caressing me through my panties. Whilst in the bathroom I had taken off my gaff, so there was no restraint to my growing excitement and my cock was soon straining to escape from the confines of my knickers. Alec quickly pulled them down and I kicked them away. By now my skirt was up round my waist and Alec wasted no time in going down on me and taking my cock in his mouth. I made sure I withdrew before coming and, undoing his trousers, eagerly returned the favour. Once again I stopped before the point of no return and, climbing off Alec, I shimmied out of my skirt and divested him of his trousers and underpants. (I also took off his socks and shoes for, as I have previously mentioned, a male clad only in his socks during sex tends to make me laugh!) Of course I left my stockings and heels on as I could see they excited Alec. Slipped a condom onto his erect member, I bent over the arm of the sofa and offered him my backside. He readily accepted! Now although I might come across as a fairly raunchy girl, I'm not one for "kiss and tell" details. Suffice it to say we both enjoyed sex together several times that night, initially in the lounge and later in the bedroom. The next morning I awoke cuddled in Alec's arms. We enjoyed a further bout of rough and tumble before I had to go t the bathroom. Whilst there I showered and brushed my tangled hair - my wig was somewhere in the lounge! Alec was making coffee when I emerged. "There is a dressing gown behind the door," he called out and I wrapped it around me so as to preserve my modesty - not that I had much of that left by this time! I was amused to find that the dressing gown Alec had loaned me was far too big. Alec wasn't a large man, but over the last three years my need to keep my weight and figure under control had resulted in my becoming even slighter that I had been as a teenager. We sat companionably over coffee. "It's OK," said Alec at last. "I know this was a one-off aberration on your part and that I am never going to be able to wheedle you away from Gavin, but thank you anyway. I have wanted to have sex with you ever since we first met. (I appreciated the way he tactfully acknowledged that what we had enjoyed was "sex" not "love".) "I enjoyed it too" I replied. You know I am very fond of you as a friend if not "in that way". I was in a bad place last night and you helped me through it. I'm not sorry we did what we did, but I don't think we should try it again." Alec nodded ruefully in agreement. I dressed - I had to throw my stockings away, they were laddered beyond belief - and, giving Alec a fond goodbye kiss, went down stairs to the taxi Alec had kindly ordered for me. The driver gave me an amused smile as I sat down somewhat gingerly - my bottom was sore - "had a good night then love?" he enquired. "For your sake I hope he was a rich punter; it looks like you've earned it!" He thought I was a prostitute and in some ways that's how I felt; I hadn't done it for money but not out of love either. Sally was in the kitchen when I got home. "You naughty girl" she smiled, "stopping out all night; I wonder what you have been up to!" Of course I told her. I have always been amazed at the frankness with which girlfriends share details of their sexual exploits, so why should Sally and I be any different. Anyway I proposed to tell Gavin about it when we next saw each other so it wasn't as if I was trying to keep it secret. I went upstairs, showered - (again); and washed my tangled, sweaty hair. "I'm going to have to do something about this" I mussed and, on returning to my bedroom, rang my hairdresser and was lucky enough to get an appointment for later that day. I threw all my dirty clothes in the laundry and slipped on a fresh bra and pair of panties. "Now that I am dressing most of the time" I thought as I adjusted my breast forms, "it would be much more convenient to have boobs of my own and not have to fiddle with these things. I wonder whether I dare get some implants." I put the idea to one side to muse on later. Sweater, jeans, flatties and a quick application of lippy and I was ready for a casual day at home. There was an email from Gavin waiting for me when I switched on my computer. It was great news. His firm, Robotic Solutions, were flying him back to the UK to discuss where he might be posted when his course at MIT finished. He would be in Manchester for Easter. I excitedly told Sally. "Well in that case I'll make myself scarce and arrange to go home to my parents for Easter" was her immediate, generous response. I met Gavin at the Airport and we chattered away nineteen to the dozen all the way beck home in the car; we had so much to tell each other. I was upfront about Alec at the earliest opportunity. "Well," said Gavin, "the poor bugger has been gagging for it long enough; I'm glad when the need came you did it with him, rather than with some stranger. By the way Eustace sends his love and told me to tell you he remembers your bottom with affection!" This caused us to dissolve into a fit of giggles and the risk of any tension between us passed. Gavin and I spent a lovely Easter together. I had got out some of "Gloria's" things as I knew he would be anxious to dress after all this time of abstinence, and indeed he was. Unfortunately his time in America had resulted in him putting on weight and none of his favourite things fitted! We managed to put a few outfits together by digging through the wardrobe and finding clothes I had worn when I first started dressing and before I lost weight. Gloria swore, there and then, to go on a serious diet and exercise regime and regain her figure. Everyone in the Purple Python was glad to see Gloria again and she had a great time catching up with the gossip. The most exciting thing, however, was, that after his meetings with his bosses, Gavin learned that, on his return from America, he would be working at a research lab in Wilmslow. This meant that he would be staying in the Greater Manchester area where all our friends lived. It also gave me a focus for applying for jobs as, ideally, I didn't want to have to be parted from Gavin again. Naturally Gavin and I, in catching up, had discussed the research project Sally and I were working on. Gavin was very interested and asked if he could take a copy of our final paper back to MIT with him. I was delighted he thought it worth further reading and agreed immediately. Gavin explained that there had been quite a bit of talk at Robotic Solutions about the need to get closer to customers and he wondered whether our research might have a few pointers for his company. All too soon Gavin had to fly back to the States and I buckled down to revision for my final exams and in applying for jobs. I went through the same process of rejection and failure that Gavin had experienced the previous year, until one day, quite out of the blue, I received a letter from Robotic Solutions inviting me to come and meet with them to discuss my research paper. Apparently Gavin had shown my paper to his mentor who, in turn, had passed it up the line. Our little undergrad research project had sufficient meat in it to be of interest to a major, multi-national company! When I showed the letter to Sally I naturally asked if she wanted me to write back to the company pointing out that the paper was as much her work as mine. She thanked me for being so thoughtful but said she had decided to remain in academe for a bit longer and had just learned that she had been accepted for a PhD project. She was happy, therefore, for me to pursue Robotic Solutions without her. It was with some trepidation I approached my meeting with the company in Wilmslow - (a different site from the one at which Gavin would be working). For a start there was no way I could hide my effeminacy; my hair was obviously coloured and cut in a feminine style; my ears were clearly pierced; and regular use of depilatory creams had markedly reduced my beard growth. Also none of male shirts and suits fitted me any longer; I had lost so much weight they just hung off me. This at least was capable of remedy and I hurriedly purchased a complete new outfit of masculine clothing. In the event the meeting went extremely well. I was made welcome and no-one looked in the least perturbed by my appearance. I met with three senior managers of the company who quizzed me thoroughly about my project and my thought on the need for changing relationships between customers and manufacturers of technological products. I was soon in full spate and was surprised when lunch was announced; where had the time gone, the morning had just flown by? We continued our discussion over lunch and, when we rose from the table, one of the managers suggested I take a guided tour of their facility whilst he and his colleagues discussed what we had been talking about. The tour was most interesting and I was very impressed with the facilities and manufacturing lines I was shown. After a couple of hours I was shown back into the meeting room. The most senior of the three managers told me that they had been very impressed with both my written work and the quality of the discussion we had had that morning. Much of my thinking was in line with work they had been doing themselves and..............they wanted to offer me a position as a junior member of a new Customer Services Project Unit they were about to set up! They went on to explain that the purpose of this new unit was for qualified engineers - such as me - to work with Robotic Solutions' customers to identify opportunities for a more integrated approach to the introduction of new technology and systems and then to work with our own research labs to come up with solutions to the issues we, as "consultants," had identified. Needless to say I accepted their offer with alacrity! Not only was it a super job opportunity, but it was with the same company Gavin worked for. We would be able to remain together and, possibly, even work on some of the same projects. I returned to Manchester in a state of high excitement and wasted no time in emailing Gavin to tell him the good news. Sally was also overjoyed for me. After this excitement, the rest of the term was a bit of an anticlimax. I did reasonably well in my final exams and ended up being awarded a 2:1 degree - nothing to compare with Gavin's First, but then I knew I wasn't as good an engineer as he was. My strengths lay more in the area of people skills and would be ideally suited to my new job. At the end of term we had a great thrash at the Purple Python and I tendered my formal resignation to Sol with a sense of sadness. Not only had he given me well paid work, but, indirectly, had helped me hone my interpersonal skills that were going to be so useful in the future. It wasn't so hard parting from Suzy, Tessa, and the other girls. Although we wouldn't be such regular visitors to the Club, Wilmslow wasn't that far away and we would be back. Surprisingly the hardest thing for me was leaving the house in Gladwin Road. It was an ordinary terraced house on a street like many others, but it had been when I came of age; grew up; and learned who I truly was. I felt a strong connection with the bricks and mortar! Gavin wasn't due back from America until the end of August, so it fell to me to find a place for us to rent in Wilmslow. It wasn't easy, but I eventually settled on a pretty, modern, two bed-roomed flat overlooking a park. I hired a van and moved our things over to our new address. I then set about turning it into a home for my man and I. We would be entering a new phase of our lives; time to grow up and get to grips with the big wide world. Scary but exciting; I could hardly wait. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Nearly there folks; one more chapter to follow which will, hopefully, be posted shortly.