In Nockton Vale - Man: Wanted - Chapter Four free porn video

Chapter Four Men & Women 1 I went straight downstairs, stuck my head through the garage door and then went through to the dining room. There was time to do the garage later. I still wasn't finished in here. I shook my head ruefully. I was such a waste of space when I was a woman. I spent half the time flitting from job to job, not accomplishing anything and the other half making excuses and trying to get out of moving forward. "Typical bloody woman." I wiped down the above-ground surfaces with furniture polish and then did the floor, ensuring all the dust from the sanding was up, careful to use gentle strokes to keep it from being disturbed too much before I was done. There was a tin and a half of floor varnish in the garage. I cracked it open and gave the boards on the exposed side of the room a first coat, working my way from the window back to the door. It didn't take long. I was getting hungry when I broke from that and there was still only rabbit food in the kitchen. I gave it a moment's thought and decided to go out for provisions. I knew that hadn't been part of my plan but what did it matter? I wasn't going to turn to dust if I went outside. I used the car this time, feeling like a right tosser. It was far too feminine - just stupid. Fortunately it wasn't a long drive down to the local shops. There was a medium sized Co-op backing onto the same car park I'd been in the night before saving Sangeeta from the skin-heads. I parked up and stood for a minute, reliving that. I filled a trolley inside with food: burgers, steak, chips, bread, plenty of beer, some roast microwave dinners, a box of chocolate cereal; ham, bread, butter; more beer. Despite my earlier reservations, it was clear to me now that I should change as often as possible into this shape to get the work done quickly. And if I was going to spend a lot of time being a man, I sure as hell wasn't going to peck at the bird food I usually ate. I needed proper grub. It barely all fit into the stupid little boot on my rinky-dink car. This shit heap had to go, it really did. When I pulled up back home, John's girlfriend Debbie was doing the garden in front of their house opposite. She covered a smile when she saw me squeezing out of the Noddy-mobile. I gave her an embarrassed flick of my eyebrows and went back inside. Fifteen minutes later I'd cooked myself up a big bacon and egg baguette and settled down to watch a bit of TV, the egg yolk running out between my fingers. I channel surfed until I found a documentary about doing up vintage sports cars and sat for half an hour, my boots up on the coffee table. It was more interesting than I would have expected. I even found myself toying with the idea of doing one myself. My dad had owned an old Morris Minor that was quietly going to seed at the bottom of the garden, covered by tarpaulin. It might be a real pleasure to get it out and slowly restore it over time. I even considered... Yeah. What the heck? After I'd polished off my lunch I went out back and made my way through the hanging branches of the weeping willow. The car was tucked under the trees alongside the garage, wrapped up tightly as though my dad might have gone back to it at any time to take it out for a jaunt. He'd bought it when I was a little girl - second hand - and had always talked about doing it up. Never had of course. I untied the cover and pulled it clear. It was a Morris Minor Traveller with a squared back and wooden flashing, and despite the four flat tyres and bits of rust, it didn't look in terrible shape. I was sure it wouldn't start but it was a doable project. I stood, feet planted wide, arms folded, thinking about that. It would be a lot of fun to work on and it would be nice to honour my dad's wishes at the same time. It would have been nice if we could have done it together, chatting away as we worked. I frowned, contemplating this sudden interest. I'd never been attracted to cars in my life. I was normally much more fascinated by dicking around with sewing and all that sappy stuff. This was a clear example here of how my interests were different when I became a man. It was something that I'm sure the girl-me would have got in a flap over, but it was just logical that I'd be more interested in guy stuff while I was a guy. My personality clearly was affected, but there was no harm in it. It was pretty wild if anything. I could get to experience radically different things - see what life was like on the other side of the road. There were obviously no unpleasant side-effects of switching back and forth. I was perfectly happy with the idea of doing this every day, depending on my mood and what needed doing and I was definitely going to get on with this car renovation. There was nothing to stop me. 2 After lunch I went back out to the garage with a roll of bin bags. I knew I'd dithered about out there, worrying about throwing things away but the whole idea of fretting about that seemed preposterous now. Life was all about enjoying the present time; living in the moment with all the verve and gusto we can manage. The idea of poring over old school books twenty years from now seemed like the biggest waste of time imaginable. Without even a glance at them I shovelled the lot into the black bags then I set to work on the rest of the stuff out there. There were some photo albums I kept but almost everything else either got jammed into a bin bag or shoved straight out onto the skip. Some things were valuable or worth having restored. I kept these to one side and cleared the rest. There was a lot of crap. Three hours later I'd made a tremendous dent in it but there was more to do. I broke and got myself a beer; sat out on the front step tucking into it. Old Crabtree didn't come out - probably pissing his pants at the thought of another run-in. He'd cleared his stuff from the side passage quick enough so I was happy on that score for now. The street was pretty quiet. It was a crescent - not a through road - so generally only locals used it. I had an enjoyable two minutes watching a young mother walk by pushing a pram. She had lovely legs and the most gorgeous ass: really first rate. While I was sitting there I noticed the window ledges needing doing. There was so much wrong with this house. I didn't think my girl-self would ever have finished if I hadn't found the ring. It was just a good job I'd decided to put it on again. I fancied doing a bit of outside work for a change so I fed an extension lead out through the window then went to work with the electric sander, really smoothing it off. It was easy work and enjoyable in the light afternoon sunshine. When the bulk of the sanding was done with the machine I dug out an old sanding pad of my dad's from the back of his tool cupboard and did the delicate work. After that I got some Pollyfilla and went to work sealing the cracks. John from next door pulled up in his car while I was working and threw me a wave. I nodded and grinned, carrying on working, starting to wonder about what I might do for dinner. John wandered across the road and smiled. "It's coming on well." "Yeah. Loads to do yet though; but it's all easy stuff." "You got a background doing this kind of thing?" I glanced at him. Did I? I seemed to know a lot more about DIY when I was a man than I did as a woman. "Yeah," I said. "I, er... I've done a lot of contracting; everything from building work to decorating; some electrical stuff too; little bit of central heating." I didn't know why I lied to him but it just rolled out of me like it wasn't a lie and I briefly thought about christening myself Geoff in front of the mirror then finding ID hours later with the same name. "You working at the moment or just doing this?" asked John. I squinted up the face of the building. "Just this for now." I shrugged. "Planning to sell the place and put the money into my business." That wasn't a lie at least. "How are you with plastering?" I shrugged. I remembered my dad telling me it was one of the hardest things to do, but I was feeling cocky and it seemed like while I was a man I could do anything. "It's a snap," I said. John chuckled. "Cause I was just wondering if you fancied doing some work on the side for a bit of extra cash." "Eh?" I turned to him, slightly startled. "What were you thinking?" He thumbed back at his house. "My lounge wall needs doing. Debbie's been on about me sorting it out for ages and if you can fit it in and you're willing... maybe we can help each other out." I stopped working and looked across at his house. Could I really do that? I turned my mind's eye inward and instantly got a raft of different principles of plastering. I felt as though I knew all about it. This man's mind had the lowdown on anything practical in the house. And I was low on cash... I scratched the back of my head, mulling it over, then I gave an expansive shrug and said, "What the hell. How about tomorrow?" John grinned. "Perfect." He thought for a moment. "Say, I'm meeting some mates down the pub later to watch the rugby. You're welcome to come along if you fancy it. We can go over the details of what needs doing in the boring bits while we're getting pissed." I grinned back at him. "Sounds like my kind of evening." 3 I had a shower and got changed into the new blue shirt I'd bought that morning. There was some hair cream in the bathroom cabinet (which surprised me). I roughed some into my hair then stroked the thick stubble on my face, wondering if I should shave. I was a little nervous about doing it so I didn't bother for now. There was only my dad's shaving equipment there anyway and it felt odd to consider using that. I took another beer with me out onto the front and sat on the steps waiting for John to emerge as agreed. I was half way down the can when he did. "Hey! You ready?" said John. "Sure. Let's get down there. We walking?" "Nah. Debbie's going to drop us." She appeared in the doorway clutching an overlarge bunch of keys. John gestured to his car. "Might make a nice change for you driving in a proper grown up's car." I chuckled, glancing at the over-girly vehicle on my drive. "Laugh it up. That Tonka Toy is on its way out if I have anything to say about it. It's embarrassing." "You said it. I couldn't possibly comment." "Hiya Geoff," said Debbie, climbing into the driver's seat. John got in the front and I climbed into the back. "Hey sweetheart. Have you decided to dump this loser and run away with me yet?" She laughed. "After your sexist comments last night? No way!" "That wasn't sexist. It was masterful. There's a difference." She pulled out giggling and ran us down to the back of the Hunter's Moon as we chatted amiably, mostly batting banter back and forth. John gave her a kiss before he climbed out after me. "That's your last one for tonight," she said. "Don't come home talking about conjugal rights unless you've had a couple of breath mints." We went inside. The sports bar side was pretty spacious but was already filled up with punters. There was a gigantic TV mounted high up on the wall and the game preliminaries were already underway. "I'll get the first round in," I said. "Fosters. Pint of. Thanks." "Sure." John found his mates and I took in the atmosphere as I waited to be served. I'd never watched a sporting event in my life before but there was a really festive buzz in the air; a build-up of excitement. But it was more than that. There were groups of blokes mostly (just a few women), and the traditional barriers didn't seem to be there at all. Ordinarily each group would have been tucked away in their own invisible bubble of exclusion. Not now. Each group seemed connected to the next by the potential of this shared experience. It was great - really relaxing. I got the beers and carried them over then went back for a couple more for John's friends. I couldn't really afford it but what the heck. If he was paying me for the plastering the following day then cash flow wouldn't be a problem for a little while. They were a welcoming bunch and as the game began I settled into the camaraderie comfortably. It was no weirder than anything else over the last couple of days, but still, stepping out of myself for a second, it was hard to believe I was fitting into this group of rowdy blokes so quickly and seamlessly. Where was the delicate wilting flower who normally took weeks to feel comfortable with a new group of people? Five minutes in and I was already laughing and shouting with the rest of them, totally at ease. It was great! I'd always wished I could be more outgoing and here was the proof that I would have been happier if I was. I'd been back in Nockton Vale for weeks but I'd more mates in the last twenty four hours as a bloke than I had over the entire rest of the time I'd been there as a bird. The match was an early game in the Six Nations rugby tournament. This one was England versus France so there was an extra bite of patriotic verve, generally comprising chants of "Kill the frogs! Kill the frogs!" and other, less politically correct cries. I'd always kind of looked down on nationalism of any form but surrounded by this energized fervour I could totally see the attraction now. Third pint down and we were having a whale of a time, yelling and pointing at the screen, half standing when it looked like someone was going to score a try; sinking back down in disappointment and leaping up with a roar of triumph when it finally happened. It was awesome! I went for a whizz when there was a break in the action, enjoying the relaxation of slumping against the tiled wall above the urinal as the piss streamed out of me. I was really nicely tipsy; really enjoying myself; really glad I'd put the ring back on. Now I was Geoff again I could hardly understand why I'd been reticent to put it back on. I was just having a really cool evening. Where was the harm in that? I gave my hands a cursory wash, came out wiping them on my jeans and walked straight into Sangeeta. We both gaped at one another in surprise, then her Cheshire cat smile spread across her lips and a grin broke out on mine too. "Hey big boy," she said. "I was hoping I might run into you here." She gave me an appraising up and down glance. "Nice shirt." She touched the front, grazing my stomach through the cloth and making my cock jerk instantly in response. "Blue suits you." I raised my eyebrows. "Well every colour must suit you," I said. "You look gorgeous." She grinned at me and I smiled back. "How do you fancy joining us?" I said. I pointed. "We're watching the game over there." She slipped her arm round the small of my back. "Lead the way." 4 Watching the match with this bunch of blokes was incredible. I'd never felt anything like the camaraderie I was getting here. It was amazing to be part of the atmosphere and connected to so many other men, all of us focusing on the same desire: for England to beat the crap out of those bastard frogs. And it was a hell of a lot better with Sangeeta there. She wasn't one of those girly girls who thought sport was dull or stupid; she really got into it. And she wasn't clinging insecurely onto me either. She got in with John's mates right away, inserting herself into the circle of banter without trouble, giving it out harder than she took it, establishing herself as a part of the group. She was much more outgoing than I was when I was a woman. But she didn't stray too far from me. She was really tactile, making grips and strokes on my thighs as we watched, leaning against my chest when she laughed hysterically, running her smooth fingers down my wrist and snaking her hand into mine, just for a second before pulling it free. I couldn't remember having a better night. I went up for another round leaving Sangeeta with the other men and leaned on the bar while I waited, looked back at them. A little me on the inside whispered that there was something wrong with all this - that I wasn't one of the men - that I shouldn't be spending time with Sangeeta knowing that I couldn't possibly commit to her; but I didn't want to listen to it. I was just skimming along with the flow right now, feeling really content. It was too much effort to worry about things when it was such a good night. There was plenty of time for regrets later. I was getting really peckish so I ordered a ranch burger and potato wedges and the nachos that Sangeeta said she wanted then carried the tray of drinks back to the table, joining with the crowd in a roar of triumph as England scored another try just as I was setting it down. The food came ten minutes later and we tucked in. I shoved the food in my mouth, keeping my eyes on the game but when I went to grab a wedge I found a nacho in its place. I peered at Sangeeta suspiciously. She was pulling an absurdly innocent face but there was a potato wedge in her fingers. "Hey. Are you stealing?" She popped the wedge in her mouth and looked at me with the same innocent expression, just a trace of a smirk. "Me? Of course not." She reached gingerly down to my plate and snatched up another wedge, whipping it back up to her lips. "Hey!" I grabbed her middle with both hands, tickling her stomach and under her arm and she curled up in giggles. "Stop it! Stop!" she cried, laughing, but I went on doing it. "This is what you get for being a thief!" She squealed louder and her foot came up, knocking the table. We both froze, comical expressions on our faces as John gave us a humourously stern look. Sangeeta and I looked at one another through the side of our eyes then grinned broadly. "Truce?" she asked. "Depends." "On what?" "On whether you can be trusted not to steal anymore of my wedges." "Deal," she said, reaching onto my plate and boldly lifting another wedge to her grinning mouth. I smiled and took another swig of my beer. 5 At half time, Sangeeta and I found a booth on the quieter side of the bar while the other blokes started a drinking game involving knocking back shots while shouting expletives at the top of their lungs. I chuckled to listen to them, half wishing I was taking part. Sangeeta and I had a big ice-cream and fresh cream dessert to share in a tall class with two long spoons. She looked beautiful in a sleeveless dress, ringlets dropping from the side of her exquisitely tied up hair. She was an expert applier of make-up and her eyes were framed beautifully. I couldn't take my eyes off her. "I'm really glad I ran into you again," she said. "Yeah. Me too." I had the impression she'd come here specifically to see if I would be here again and the trouble she'd gone to with her appearance telephoned her intentions pretty clearly. That made me both quietly thrilled and rather more uneasy. "It's great to escape," she said. "I've had a day like you wouldn't believe." "Really?" "I won't bore you with it." "No. Bore away. There's nothing I like more than being bored by a beautiful woman." "So you're saying I'm beautiful?" She smirked mischievously. "Not at all," I quickly added. "I wouldn't want to give a false impression that I was coming on to you." "Oo, shame," she said. "Cause I definitely would have been up for it." We laughed and she gave my knee a little scratch with her forefinger under the table. "So why was it so bad?" I asked. She rolled her eyes and shrugged. "It started off well. Sort of. Only had one customer all morning but we had a lovely chat; you know." I nodded, feeling duplicitous. "Then from lunch time on it got worse and kind of crazy at the same time. You remember me telling you about the latest guy my dad is trying to set me up with?" "Uh huh." "Well he only turned up at the shop today." "Really?" "Said he'd come for the weekend." "It's Thursday." "Exactly." "Staying...?" "With me apparently. He invited himself; claims he just wants to hang out as friends - he's brought an air bed - but obviously... Obviously he's got aspirations." "It's kind of creepy isn't it?" Sangeeta looked surprised. "Or not," I added. "I mean, is that...? I'm not too up on the protocol of arranged marriages and stuff. Is that normal?" She shrugged. "I don't know. With my father involved, nothing is normal. I'm terrified of him jumping on a plane and coming over here. He keeps threatening to." "So where's this guy now?" "Rasheed?" She gave an exaggerated shrug. "Sitting in my flat where I left him for all I know. I told him I was meeting a friend here." We both chomped on the ice-cream for a little bit. "Oh yeah," she said. "And my business is failing." "Really?" She raised her eyebrows and gave a mock smile. "Great day." "Well... thank God for beer." I raised my pint glass. "You said it." She raised hers too and we chinked. "Let's forget about all this boring crap and get shit-faced. The second half's just starting." I laughed, knocking back a swig of beer. "You are just my kind of girl!" 6 By the end of the match, John and the rest of his mates were really off their faces. Sangeeta and I were more than merry. The other blokes started singing a bunch of toneless anthems with a remarkable disregard for the correct lyrics. Sangeeta managed to pull me back over to the darker side of the pub, back to the booth we'd sat in the night before. I felt amazingly good. There was a constant low-level buzz of arousal around my lower regions, reaching up as far as my chest, and my head was fairly swimming. We sat side by side in the booth, one elbow propped on the table, the other hand laying on the seat between us, not quite touching but occasionally coming into contact. "So do you have a set of things you live by Geoff?" asked Sangeeta playfully. "Huh?" "You know, a code that you live your life by?" I shrugged. "I guess. Not a specific list." She gave my hand a tiny stroke with her finger. "Well think about it now. I want to hear the top three things that describe what kind of man you are." What kind of man I was? I put my hand to my head. My thoughts were getting muzzy. I wasn't a man. I was supposed to be a woman. This was all getting out of hand. "Come on," said Sangeeta. "I'll start you off. Number one. You always intercede if you see a woman who's in trouble." I gave a throaty chuckle. "Only if she's gorgeous." Sangeeta slipped her hand just under my shirt so briefly that it almost didn't happen and stroked my side. "You tease; don't give me that. I bet I'm the hundredth damsel you rescued; and I bet you whisk them all off their feet straight afterwards." "I was just getting into practice for when I met the perfect girl." I wiggled my eyebrows and she giggled. "Besides... you just admitted I swept you off your feet." "I never denied it!" She laughed out loud. "Come on then," she said. "What's your number two? What kind of man are you?" I didn't want to answer. I had a vague idea that whatever I said about myself came true: the name on the ID; the ability to do plastering. What if whatever I said now actually determined the type of man I was when I changed? But I wanted to play along. It was great fun flirting like this and I didn't want to be a spoilsport. "Okay. Quality number two," I said. I tried to think what my ideal man had always been and got an image of a skinny runt with floppy hair and an artistic temperament that made me sneer inwardly. I was the opposite of that. "I guess... I'm just an ordinary down-to-earth bloke - nothing fancy, you know... What my mum would have called a good old fashioned man." Sangeeta feigned surprise then smiled. "I think I would have liked you mum." "Yeah. She would have liked you too." "So you hold doors open for ladies... stuff like that." "It sounds a bit crap to say it like that, but..." "Coats?" "Huh?" "Would you help with my coat on, if I had one?" "Sure." "I think it's sweet." She touched my hand again. "But, old fashioned...? Does that mean you think women are worse than men?" I had firsthand experience that I was certainly better at some things as a man than I had been as a woman, but I didn't say so. "No. Women can do whatever they set their minds to - anything at all. I'd never hold a woman back, but I enjoy the differences, you know? I like it when women are women and men are men." I frowned, unsure why I was saying these things and surprising myself with how I felt. Again I got that duel sense of peace and contentment alongside racked up disconcert. The inner part of me that was poking at my sense of calm, telling me this was all wrong, was getting louder; harder to ignore. "Can you read minds or something?" "Eh?" Sangeeta put her hand on top of mine on the table. "You're listing all the best qualities I'm attracted to in a man." "Well maybe you should tell me what my third quality is then," I said. "You seem to know me better than I know myself." "Alright," she replied, straightening in the seat, putting one arm horizontally across her belly and resting the other elbow on its wrist, tapping her cheek thoughtfully with her forefinger. "Let's see..." I folded my arms, striking a masculine pose. "Alright," she said. "I think I've got it." She made a show of getting comfortable. "I was going to say that I bet you're a man who believes in always pulling his weight - that I bet you're hard-working and I bet you tidy up after yourself. I was going to say I bet you're generous with your money and that you always make sure people you care about are okay." She paused and eventually I filled it. "You were going to say that?" "Yeah." "But you're not going to?" "No." "So what do you think is the third quality that defines me?" She grinned. "Libido," she said. "I bet you're an animal in bed." We both grinned and she slid her hand up my arm, under the loosely rolled cuff. Her other hand slid under my shirt again, teasing at my bare side. I looked into her big lovely eyes and slowly moved my head towards hers. "Sangeeta?" We both frowned without moving, then our eyes slid off to the side, followed by our heads, and I saw the man who had spoken. It was an Indian man about the same age as we were dressed in a cream sweater, his face turned in with confusion and a smidgeon of anger. "Oh God," muttered Sangeeta. I turned in my seat to look at him properly. "Geoff," she said, gesturing to the man. "Meet Rasheed." 7 This was the guy that Sangeeta was supposed to marry... Rasheed. And in that first dozen seconds while he was just standing there looking faintly indignant and the two of us were; to be honest; looking guilty and caught in the act, I sized him up, head to toe, and a series of fairly surprising thoughts occurred to me. I didn't like him; I reckoned I could take him in a fight; I had quite the swell of jealousy; There was no way I was going to let him get his mitts on Sangeeta. Sangeeta's hand pulled out from under my shirt guiltily fast. She masked the movement to some extent but there was an element of naughty school children caught by a teacher to it that I didn't like and that made me feel a spike on anger toward this intruder. "Rasheed," she said. "What are you doing here?" "I came to see you. What are..." Glance at me. "... you doing?" She turned in her seat to face him. "I'm just talking; to a friend. I told you I was coming here to do that." He shifted. "You didn't say it was a man." The look he chucked me was like molten metal. I wanted to speak up but I didn't want Sangeeta to feel I was interfering and I had a bad feeling I'd sound like a lion defending his mate if I did. I decided to keep my mouth firmly shut. "Look Rasheed," she said. "I'm sorry to have left you on your own but you didn't let me know you were... visiting... and I had plans already. I can spend some time with you tomorrow night." "I'm not sure I feel comfortable knowing you are out with another man," said Rasheed. "I know you don't like the idea of arranged marriages but your father has made it very clear that--" "Hey!" Rasheed stopped in mid-sentence. He looked at me, startled. Sangeeta turned to me as well. I paused, then I gave him a very warm king-of-the- beasts smile. "Maybe it's none of my business," I said. I paused again. "... but I get the impression that this young woman has been... quite explicit on her wish to have an evening out... with me." Rasheed took on the mien of an overfull teapot. When he started to speak I raised my hand and he stumbled over what he'd been about to say. "I have no problem with you Rasheed," I said, "Really. But I think you hit the nail on the head when you mentioned that Sangeeta is uncomfortable with the idea of an arranged marriage. That's fairly clear, right?" Rasheed looked to Sangeeta then back to me. "I suppose." "So if you're really hoping to marry her, do you really think turning up unannounced and muscling your way into her flat is the best way to do it?" Rasheed's discomfort settled in deeper. I gave him another warm smile, not dissimilar to what a pride's alpha male might give to some whippersnapper with designs on the sexiest lioness. "Let me make a suggestion," I said. "If you're really interested in Sangeeta then respect her space and her privacy. The best thing you can do? Get back on the train to London. But if you're determined to stick around, pack up your things and book yourself into a hotel." I glanced at Sangeeta then dropped him a shrug. "That's just a friendly opinion; one man to another." Rasheed faltered, looking between us again, then blanking me, he said, "Sangeeta... I think we should go somewhere and talk. Why don't you come away now and we'll do that?" She looked down and away and then slowly back up at him. "No Rasheed," she replied. She put her hand round mine on the table. "You heard what Geoff said; and I think he's right. That was good advice." There was an extended crackling silence, then with one last molten glare at me, Rasheed turned his back on us and walked away. I watched him go, feeling kind of stunned, not sure where any of that had come from or if it was the right thing. What the hell business of mine was it to stick my nose into this? I had no idea what the cultural etiquette was and I'd waded in like a... like a man! I turned to Sangeeta. Her face was lowered, her brows knit. "Sorry," I said. "I don't know why I said all that. I shouldn't have done your talking for you. I guess... I guess I'm an old-fashioned guy and... I don't like to see a lady being hassled." "Thank you." "What?" She lifted her face, turning it toward me; smiling; and her eyes were moist. "I've had my father battering away at me for so long; different men I didn't choose throwing themselves into my path, trying to be modern and western but still just following all the traditional crap... and..." She gripped my hand tightly. "It just feels nice... to have someone I like for a change who stands up for me." I didn't know what to say to that. I sputtered for a second, then I opened my mouth to respond and before I could say anything she put her lips to mine, taking my shoulder in her fingers and pulling herself tightly against me. My eyes fell closed and I tipped into the smouldering well of the passion, its intensity swallowing me in sublime and balmy darkness. I put my hands to her face, holding her close and she enwrapped my in her arms. We kissed and we kissed and we kissed and we kissed. And when we broke contact finally, the kiss went on sizzling on my lips and in my chest and in the light of Sangeeta's beautiful eyes. For an extended moment we both hovered in that perfect uncomplicated instant, then in a thundering rush I realised what I'd done - again! - and I pulled away. I got to my feet. Sangeeta reached after me. "What is it? What's wrong? I thought--" I had to get out of there, but I couldn't do this to her again. How could I? Especially after what she'd told me in the beauty parlour that morning. Instead of breaking off completely I just stood there in an extended moment as awful as when Rasheed had been here. This was wrong. It was completely wrong. I wasn't this man she saw. I couldn't keep any promises my actions were making. I was leading her on terribly. "Geoff?" "I..." I looked toward the exit. "I have to..." "What's wrong?" "I have to go to the... men's room. I'm sorry. I have to go. I'll be right back." "Wait..." I didn't wait. I turned my back on her too and I hurried away as fast as I could into the darkness. 8 I was almost jogging by the time I reached the pub toilets. I bashed it open far harder than I should have. I still didn't comprehend the strength in these man's limbs. I went to the sink and splashed some water on my face then glowered at my male reflection at it dripped away, furious at myself in an unquantifiable way: for turning into a man in the first place; for doing it again; for kissing Sangeeta; for not staying and kissing her again... I had no idea of why I was angry; I just was. I made a fist of my hand and looked at the ring in it then back to my fiery eyes. This ring was the problem and it had been from the moment I slid it on. It had solved a few problems but had caused a hell of a lot more. It had to go. It had to go right now. I grabbed it firmly and yanked. It wouldn't come off. I twisted and pulled; twisted and pulled, determined to get it free. It started to move and simultaneously I got the first shimmer of the vein scratching and the crackle of the initial flash. I pulled harder, sliding it up to the first joint, and the sensation spread through my body. I looked into the mirror and saw the change starting to happen. Then a knock came at the door. I froze, the chilled sizzling working through my veins. The knock came again. I couldn't be caught in the middle of this. I had to put the ring back on. But I couldn't do that! This had gone far too far already. It had to end once and for all! I ripped the ring off. The door started to creak open. The crushing numbness was all over my body now. Another flash came, dazzling me. I ran into one of the cubicles, the change in mid-flow and slammed the door behind me, throwing the bolt with slim feminine fingers, gasping to draw in air, pain streaking up my back. I bent double then threw my head back, clattering against the inner wall. I leaned against the back tiles , winced and then felt the final shudder. I was myself again. I was a woman; dressed in the same faun trousers and a V-necked T-shirt I'd put on that morning as Alison, my hair tied back. I touched my stomach, my shoulders, my breasts, feeling odd and uncomfortable, curiously embarrassed to have these squashy orbs on my chest. I felt the drop in height, the loss of strength. It was horrible. I didn't feel right at all. At least I wasn't wearing a skirt. That would have been really weird. I closed my eyes tightly, squeezing out the end of the transformation. Then I heard a woman's voice and I realised consciously what I'd known the second I heard the fist knock. "Geoff?" Sangeeta had come into the men's room after me. She was standing right outside by the sinks where I had been six seconds earlier. She was right the other side of the flimsy wooden cubicle door. "Geoff? Are you in there?" I didn't speak. My voice box was locked down tightly. How could I speak? What could I say? I was a woman! She'd know I wasn't Geoff the moment I opened my mouth. I said nothing but I was breathing heavily. Her footsteps came closer to the cubicle door but she didn't speak again. I rested my forehead on the wood, hating myself all the more. I thought she was going to leave, but instead she started to speak again and I could sense the emotion in her voice alongside the guilt it imparted to me. "I know you're in there Geoff," she said, "and... I don't know what's wrong. I don't know if I've done something or if... I don't know... if you're married or..." My head gave an involuntary shake. There was a long pause. She didn't say anything out loud but there was a whisper of words hidden in her breath. She was going to leave. I was being a bastard. Of course she was. And I had to let her go. I opened my hand and looked down at the ring in my palm. "Geoff..." One footstep away. Then another. A long pause. She was almost at the door. I gritted my teeth and pushed the ring back on. The pause continued as I staggered back, leaning against the inside of the cubicle in spikes of agony, then the footsteps withdrew, faster now, and the outer door opened. "Sangeeta. Wait." I opened the cubicle door and stepped out, the last shimmering effects of the change chuntering away beneath my clothes. She was in the doorway, her face a mixture of hurt and anger, but when she saw me; saw the sorrow in my own expression; her fury melted away. "I'm sorry," I said. "I don't know... what the hell is wrong with me. It's just that I think I--" "It's fine," she said, cutting me off. "Really." She looked away then back at me. I took a step toward her. "Sangeeta..." "Here's an idea," she said. "Cause I think people worry far too much about things nowadays, right? We're always questioning what things are and what they mean and where they're going, and then we get a load of hang-ups as a result. Everything gets complicated and we start freaking out and something that could have been... so simple... ends up being this big mess and--" She dropped her head back and smiled then lowered it back to face me, the smile turning into a grin. Then she gave a little sigh. "Let's just have a bit of fun. What do you think? This isn't the future. It isn't tomorrow or next week. It isn't a month from now or a year. It isn't wedding bells, or children, or holding hands in an old folk's home. It's tonight. That's all." The corner of my mouth tilted up into a point. "Tonight..." She stepped into the room, letting the door drop closed. "I fancy you. You fancy me. We're both phenomenal kissers." I chuckled and she giggled then we both laughed. She looked so damn beautiful. She came up to me. "How about we just enjoy ourselves for a bit and forget about all that other crap?" I looked down at her. My right hand rose to her cheek. My left stroked her bare arm. We both smiled warmly and now my eyes were moist too. "How about we--?" I kissed her. It was just brief and just purely sweet; or it was meant to be; but it went on and on until we'd both been swept up in it again, until we were almost pawing one another in passion and delight. Eventually she pulled away and Sangeeta met my eyes with simple happiness. "Let's get out of here," she whispered. I nodded. "I normally don't snog blokes in the loo until at least the third date." 9 We left the Hunter's Moon together into a fresh and clear spring night. There wasn't a soul in sight and the street was silent. The sky was cloudless and filled with stars. We had no idea we were being watched. "We'll go back to yours," said Sangeeta, slipping her arm through mine. "I don't want to see Rasheed if I can avoid it." I found myself shrugging. "Sure thing. If you like." I had no idea what I was thinking. We were both quite drunk but it wasn't far to walk. Sangeeta pulled me to a stop before the end of the row of shop fronts though and put her palm flat on my chest. "Can you just hang on a second? I want to pop in here." She was gone inside before I'd even had time to register that it was a convenience store. I saw her recede toward the back, checking left and right with her head as she walked. I scratched my head, turning away. What the hell was I doing? But what did it matter? It was like Sangeeta had said. There was only here and now. Nothing else mattered. I could over-think it but the alcohol on my veins coaxed at me not to bother. I could choose to contemplate the rightness of all this or I could go with the flow. I wanted to go with the flow. I really wanted that. Just imagine this was real - that I was really Geoff - that this beautiful and funny woman wanted me. And she did want me. I knew she did. And this wasn't pretend. I was a man. My brain was aflow with rationalisations, but the fact was that none of them mattered and neither did the thin girly voice beneath them all saying I was doing wrong. I was simply too pissed to care. Sangeeta emerged, grinning, hiding the bag she brought out with her, but not enough for me to see that it wasn't just one item. The items I was thinking - hoping - she'd bought might be in there, but there were other things too. She pushed the carrier into the top of her own bag and gave me a flouncy and very feminine prod with her fingers. "Keep your eyes forward mister," she said. "What's in there is none of your business." We walked up the hill into the Chauncy suburbs, remaining arm-in-arm. The trees were ancient. There were street lights but the overhanging foliage blocked out a lot of the light leaving long swaths of blackness between amorphous zones of faded illumination. We alternated telling long jokes, doing full characterisations and kooky accents for the different characters. Sangeeta was hilarious and shockingly politically incorrect. As for me: normally I was terrible at jokes - forgetting punch lines and losing the thread half way through. The new me was a natural comedian. I had a brand new grasp of timing and a portfolio of different intonations from all over the world. When we turned into my drive I was finishing a joke off about the prime minister, the queen and Jesus arguing over the last parachute in an out of control plane and Sangeeta was hooting with laughter. It rolled out of her then raised in volume and pitch, rolling out again. I was laughing too and we crashed against the front door in another long clench, buried in the shadows, lips pressed together, tongues finding each other inside our mouths. Then Sangeeta remembered the joke and broke out from the kiss with laughter and I joined her, searching for the front door key while I went on chuckling. "Wow," whispered Sangeeta as I led her in. "This place is huge." "If you like things to be huge then you ain't seen nothing yet baby," I replied. She smirked saucily. "I like the sound of that big boy." "You want the tour?" "Later." She came to me in the shadowy hall and slipped her fingers into the top of my jeans, tugging my waist up against hers. I leant down to kiss her again but she stepped away playfully and said, "Which is the lounge. Through here?" She started walking. "Yeah." "And that's the kitchen back there?" "Uh huh." "Good." She ran her fingertips down the join at the front of my shirt. Go into the lounge and sit down. Relax. I'll be through in a minute. Put some music on if you've got it." She gave me a little push on the arm to twirl me round and urge me through the doorway. Mystified and intrigued I followed her instructions and she disappeared toward the back of the house with her bag. I put some low music on and stood waiting; then I sat. I leaned back, then forward, then I followed her suggestion and reclined in the armchair. It was a big lounge with old fashioned furniture. The only light was a lamp with a fluted and dusty shade. It gave the entire room a dim glow but left long streaking shadows that made half of everything black. Sangeeta was gone for longer than I was expecting and the liquor was making me drowsy. I closed my eyes, enjoying the enveloping peace and the gloom. I gave the tiniest start when I heard her enter the room behind me and say, "Stay sitting there. Don't look round yet." "Sounds almost frightening." "Just wait until you see what I've got." She set something down on the oak table behind me then appeared above my head, stroking my stubbly cheek with her smooth hand. "Relax big boy," she said. "What have you got there?" "Trust me." I smiled, closing my eyes and Sangeeta undid the top three buttons of my shirt, probing inside with her hands, stroking my broad hairy chest then working back to my neck, kneading the muscles there; massaging my shoulders. It felt wonderful. Then I opened my eyes in surprise when something unfamiliar touched my face and neck; something warm, closing over it. It was a towel, steaming and hot; a delicious and soothing sensation. "What are you doing?" I asked. "Something my father taught me how to do." She smiled. She stroked my face again then wrapped the hot towel up around my neck and cheeks. "I'm going to shave you." She smiled again and the lamplight sparkled in her eyes. She went out of my field of vision and I lay back, enjoying the tranquillity and heat. She let the heat sink into me for a while then she reappeared, sliding the towel off me and lathered up my neck and the sides of my face. "I'm going to leave you with a goatee," she said. "I think you'd look gorgeous with one." I shifted, unsure, still coaxed into going with the flow, but wondering what that would be like. My stubble was thick enough but it was like it would be a further transformation deeper into manhood. The initial physical change had been just the first step. The mental changes and slowly encompassed me ever since, but I still seemed to be on that journey and having a trimmed beard seemed like a doorway somehow; as though it were an acceptance of entering another stage. I felt as though if I said yes to this then I was opening myself to a deeper immersion in masculinity. "Is that okay?" she asked. I looked at her pretty face; her playful mischievous eyes; and I murmured the word, "Yes." She leant into me, putting pressure with both hands on my chest, and kissed me tenderly. She went back to the table and returned with the razor. The top button of her blouse was undone and the dip of her cleavage was enticingly visible. I couldn't take my eyes off it until the blade caught the light, distracting me. With one hand on my upper arm and a knee resting on the centre of the seat, between my legs, touching my inner thighs, she started to work, gently scraping the blade across my neck and down my cheeks. She manoeuvred round me, always touching and stroking with her spare hand and I wallowed in the growing essence of pleasure and repose. Her expression was so perfect in its concentration and mirth and the more it went on - the more she pushed the transformation on - the more I wanted her; the less I cared about who I was before. My entire existence became just this series of moments. There was no Alison in the past or future. There was only Geoff and Sangeeta. She finished the shave and used the towel to wipe away the excess lather carefully, then she smoothed aftershave onto my cheeks and neck with her hands, not taking her eyes off mine. I reached up and touched my smooth cheeks. They felt lovely and still warm. Then I felt the bristles of my new goatee beard and the moment I touched it, the erection that had been building in my jeans swelled. My body moved without my command with an almost savage urgency. I went forward, grabbing Sangeeta's shoulders and kissing her hard, opening my mouth and tilting my head, over and over, needing to devour her. She kissed my back, fondling my sides, and then suddenly she was snatching at my shirt front with an equal fervour, fumbling with the buttons; undoing one, then another. I gently nudged her out of the way, gripping the centre of the join then ripped the shirt open down its length in one movement. "Oh! I like it!" "You'll like this better," I said, grabbing her again and flipping her up into my arms, making her cry out in alarm and delight. I carried her to the table then set her down. Her eyes were clasping all the light in the darkness; reflecting it back. She struggled with her own top, pulling it at. I waited, impatiently, then I couldn't stop myself and I went in with my big hands and tried to help her; but it was caught on something. It wouldn't come. "Rip it off." We shared a grin, then I clutched the fabric at the seam and tore it off in one great swipe of passionate fury. I pushed her down onto the table as she grasped now at the buttons on my jeans. Her skirt came up easily revealing long muscular tanned legs, gorgeously soft and smooth. I wanted her so badly. Nothing could have held me back now. There was no room in my mind for the fact of my fairer sex. I was nothing but a man. It was my encompassing identity. I wanted nothing on this earth but to couple with this beautiful and delightful woman. She slipped a sheath on me from her bag while I kissed her neck and then she fell back and I drew her toward me. My jeans and boxers dropped into a pool at my ankles. I kicked them off and marvelled at the pulsing cock unfurled between my legs. Pulling on Sangeeta's knees I slid her to the edge of the table "Oh yes!" she cried. "Yes! Like that!" I grabbed her hips and thrust forward, pulling her against me, forcing my cock into her burning centre, and the sensation was like no other. It was everything. It was all the world. It was the crock of gold at the end of the rainbow. It was infinitely better than then the urgent lonely gropings of the night before. My entire body tensed rigid and a long scraping groan issued from deep in my throat. Then again it was urgency and passion; Sangeeta, reaching up with her lovely slender fingers to caress my chest, as she curled her head back one way then the other, moaning in rising pleasure, the fingertips of her right hand stroking her lower lip back and forward. It slowed; just the gentle rocking of our bodies, back and forth; back and forth. Sangeeta raised her torso, arms propping her up and I kissed her chest, her neck, her face, her mouth. I cradled her and her hands found my muscular shoulders, my broad pecs, my strong stomach, the top of my hips; drawing me back and forth; back and forth, just smiling at one another. Her eyes closed and she groaned again, her head lolling back. I kissed her neck and she scratched my back with her fingernails. I gritted my teeth and whimpered from the abrupt spike of passion. In my groin the power was building. I knew it was too soon but I needed it now. I couldn't stop or slow down. I had to speed up. I had to ride it. I was like an animal. I had no will or desire to stop now - to draw it out. It had to be now. My pumping became frantic and I rammed into her. I lifted her off the table, her legs wrapping round me. She started to cry out too but I could barely hear it. I had to do this now. I had to possess her in this way. She had to be mine right now! A feeling came unlike anything I could have imagined - something completely new - but I recognised it nonetheless for the only thing it could be. Then it was gone. But I didn't stop. I went on thrusting harder and harder. We locked our lips together and she went on stroking and scratching and groping. The feeling came back; vanished; came back; building. I couldn't believe it could feel so good. I couldn't stop pumping. The sensation was starting to overwhelm and paralyse me but I didn't let it. I went on doing it to her; with her. I went on crashing against Sangeeta until it really was too much; until the white razor edge of the ecstasy wiped out all cognisance. My legs shuddered. I barely kept us vertical. "Oh God," I moaned. "Oh Jesus Christ. Oh yes. Oh yes. Oh yes. Please. Yes." It wiped over everything. The world was gone. The room was gone. Even Sangeeta and I were gone. That nothingness lasted for a drawn out time and then the world started to creep back in. Only slowly. Only gradually. The pleasure went on buzzing throughout my body and my soul. Soft lips found mine and we kissed again but I was breathless. I couldn't focus enough to return it properly at first. Then we were kissing long and passionately, still clenched at our waists, her legs still curled about me. We kissed and kissed until we had to stop; trying to catch our breath and weary and very, very happy. Please leave a review! For more of my stories, check out: http://transformation- stories.blogspot.co.uk/ And read my transformation novels on Amazon or Kobo by searching for Emma Finn