A Favour For Mum free porn video

A FAVOUR FOR MUM It was my summer vacation three years ago. I had just returned from my second year at Manchester University where I was studying for a BSc in Computer Science. I was totally broke - in debt in fact - and couldn't afford even to think about going on holiday. This left me no option but to return home to Mum and out house in North London. There was only Mum and me; Dad had left when I was five; his secretary suddenly more appealing than his wife and small son. Still Mum and I had got by. Dad provided some maintenance money and Mum set up her own cleaning and catering company. We survived. Perhaps I should introduce myself. My name is Terence (Terry) Hamilton and my Mum is Maureen Hamilton. The business Mum set up initially to support the two of us turned out to be surprisingly successful. Early on Mum cannily spotted a unique opening in the cleaning and catering market. At the time I am talking about - some 16 years ago - the 'international set' were just starting to invest in Central London property in a big way. Wars and political turmoil around the world made London an attractive haven for those with money. Most such properties were rarely occupied, their owners only using them for a few weeks of the year. However, when they did want to use them it was often at short notice and they expected everything to be 'just so' when they arrived. Mum offered a bespoke cleaning service for such clients. No matter how short the notice she could guarantee that the house or flat would be shipshape and Bristol fashion before the owner's private jet had landed. She could also, if required, lay on a superb buffet supper ready for instant consumption. The majority of Mum's clients were very picky about who was allowed entry into their property, so Mum retained a small but very highly trained team of people who could both clean and cook. Now, back to my vacation of three years ago. It was mid-morning and, as she had no bookings that day, Mum and I were relaxing over a cup of coffee when the hone rang. Mum answered it. I could tell immediately by Mum's expression that it was something serious. "Yes Sir; of course Sir" I heard her say; "I can guarantee that the flat will be open and ready for you by 8:00pm tonight; and a light supper? Of course." Mum put the phone down. "Hell!" (Mum rarely swore, so I knew it was serious). "That was Sir Hector McMillan and he is expecting me to have his apartment in Mayfair set up for him by 8:00pm tonight. And he would like me to prepare a meal for him. I don't know how I am going to get it done in time. Emily Smithson and Kate Roberts are on holiday; June Smith and Sally Jameson are already occupied with the flat of one of the Saudi princes. And Phyllis Hardy rang me earlier this morning to tell me she has broken her wrist. That only leaves me and I don't know how I am going to do the cleaning and cooking at the same time!" "That's alright Mum," I volunteered, "I'll help you out. It won't be the first time I've lent a hand with cleaning." "Thank you dear," Mum responded. "Normally I would jump at your offer but this time there is a problem. Sir Hector has a very valuable collection of Chinese porcelain in his apartment and, for some inexplicable reason, only trusts women to dust them. He is certain a man would break something. He is so paranoid about this that my contract with him specifies that I will only employ women to work in his property." "That's a shame Mum," I said. "Sorry I can't be of use." Mum's eyes narrowed and she looked thoughtful. "Maybe there is a way," she started. "You remember when you were fourteen I caught you dressing up in my clothes?" I blushed furiously and blurted out, "Yes, but that was years ago and it was just a phase. I have grown out of it now." "Are you sure?" Mum persisted. "Only I have noticed that since you returned from University the clothes in my wardrobe aren't always in place I put them. Have you been trying on my dresses again?" "No Mum, I swear I haven't been trying on your clothes. I was just interested to se what new things you have bought since I was last home." "I thought so" cried Mum triumphantly "you are still interested in female clothing. Now be honest with me; do you still hanker to cross-dress? I promise I won't be angry. Only if you are, this could be a way to overcome my 'Sir Hector problem'." I had no choice, I confessed, "I'm sorry Mum, but yes, I do still like dressing up as a woman. I promise that after that incident when you caught me at it, I stopped. But then when I started at Manchester University I discovered that there was a very strong Gay and Transgendered scene in the city. I'm not gay but I have occasionally gone out into The Village - that's the area around Canal Street - dressed as a woman. I have built up a small female wardrobe of my own." I burst into tears of embarrassment. "I'm so sorry. I must be an awful disappointment to you." I sobbed. Mum comforted me. "Well I wouldn't have chosen cross-dressing as my son's pastime" she admitted, "but it isn't anything too dramatic is it? And if it gives you pleasure I'm not going to hold it against you. In any event, it gives us a way forward in dealing with Sir Hector. You can wear some of my clothes - we are pretty much the same size - and help me with cleaning the flat whilst I prepare Sir Hector's supper. In the event of him pitching up before we have finished, he will think you are one of my female cleaning staff." Well, it was undoubtedly a way forward if not one I would have personally chosen. Reluctantly I agree to go ahead with Mum's idea. "There is a tube of Nair in the bathroom cabinet" she said; "You can start by having as close shave and then removing all your body hair in the shower. It is just as well you aren't overly hairy!" I did as she requested and returned to her bedroom bereft of hair and quietly enjoying the silky sensation of smooth skin. Mum had been busy sorting out some clothes for me. "I am afraid that as you will be working as a cleaner it would be inappropriate for you to wear anything excessively pretty or feminine" she told me. I hastened to assure her that I wasn't doing this for my own gratification but rather to help her out of a jam. Mum leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. "I know dear" she said, "and I do appreciate it. Still I'm sure that if you had your choice you would prefer something a bit more eye- catching." I had to confess that she was right! I started by squeezing myself into a pair of elasticated knickers. Having practiced in Manchester, I was now accustomed to tucking my private parts in order to present a smooth front to my crotch. Next plain, tan, 15-denier tights were rolled up my legs before Mum handed me one of her bras. "This should fit" she said, "But what are we going to do about your breasts? I can stuff the cups with extra tights but that won't give sufficient weight to make them move correctly." I made a suggestion. "In Manchester I made myself a pair of fake boobs by cutting the feet off a pair of tights and filling them with rice. They are really quite effective." "Then that is what we will try today" declared Mum; "But we ladies refer to them, as 'breasts' not 'boobs' please!" We swiftly made up a pair of weighty forms and slipped them into the cups of my bra. Once I had adjusted my pectoral flesh, I presented a reasonably respectable cleavage that bounced enticingly! Next Mum wrapped a waist-cinch around me and tightened the laces to give some semblance of feminine curves. She then sat me down in front of her dressing table and proceeded to apply makeup to my face. She only used a simple daytime makeup but it transformed my appearance. Foundation to cover any beard shadow; mascara, a little eye shadow, and lipstick can work wonders. Mum took a critical look at me. "Mmm, I think we need to paint your nails" she mussed. "A girl your age would certainly be wearing nail varnish." Matching deed to word, she swiftly gave my fingernails two coats of a deep pink varnish. Next Mum helped me into a simple cream blouse and straight, knee-length grey skirt. A pair of 2" black pumps completed my ensemble. Finally Mum took a wig off the top of her wardrobe. " I haven't worn this in years" she confessed "but it is the same shade as your own hair and should work for you." She fitted it on my head before allowing me to look at my reflection in the mirror. When I did, we were both staggered by what we saw. I looked just like my Mum as she appeared in photographs when she was in her 20s. The resemblance was amazing. We both sat there in stunned silence for a few moments. "We might just pull this off" Mum finally announced. Mum kept her cleaning materials in a van in our garage, so it didn't take long for us to get together the things that we needed and set off for Sir Hector's apartment. Mum gave me a light coat and a handbag into which she put my tube of lipstick, powder compact, mobile phone, wallet, and - to my embarrassment - a packet of condoms and a couple of tampons! "No self-respecting young lady would go out unprepared," she admonished. En-route to Sir Hector's Mayfair apartment, we stopped off to buy provisions for his supper. This was the first time I had gone shopping whilst presenting as a woman and initially I was somewhat frightened. However, as no one seemed concerned, I gradually came to accept that I was being taken for a woman and started to relax. Eventually we arrived at Sir Hector McMillan's apartment at 12:45. This left us a little under eight hours to get everything ready for his arrival. I set too with vacuum cleaner and duster, whilst Mum got down to work in the kitchen. We made great progress and time flew by. I was just finishing up in the principle en-suite bathroom; down on my knees polishing the toilet pan, when I heard someone address me. "I'm sorry if I have startled you, but I have to say you seem to be doing a remarkably good job." I shot up and, turning, came face to face with Sir Hector McMillan for the first time. I don't know why - (perhaps it was his name) - but I had sort of assumed that Sir Hector would be a man of advanced years. In fact as I turned to look at him, I saw a man not that much older than me. He was maybe 24 or 25 years old, as compared with my 20. He was very handsome and as he smiled down at me I couldn't avoid grinning back. "That's alright Sir, I have nearly finished" I replied, rising from my knees and straightening my skirt. "I'll just tell Mum..... er, I mean Mrs. Hamilton that you are here. I scurried off to the kitchen and alerted Mum. She quickly cleaned her hands, removed her apron, and bustled off to greet Sir Hector. I remained in the kitchen, but the other two soon came to join me. "So this is your daughter, Mrs. Hamilton?" Sir Hector enquired. "Yes Sir" replied Mum; "Teresa doesn't normally work for me but she kindly volunteered to help out as I was a bit short-handed today." (So my name is 'Teresa' all of a sudden!) "That is very kind of you Teresa" Sir Hector said, smiling at me; "I hope my sudden decision to come to London hasn't caused you to miss anything important?" "No Sir" I assured him. "I was happy to give my mother a hand. I trust everything is to your satisfaction?" "Oh it is" he replied. "I don't whether I should ask this, but could the two of you do me a further favour? Only the reason I have flown into London at such short notice is that I have two American associates coming to see me later tonight when their plane has landed. My meeting with them is quite important and it would help me greatly if you could extend your light supper to three persons Mrs. Hamilton, and if Teresa could serve drinks and food." "We would be delighted" Mum responded, before I had time to draw breath. "If you are happy for me to cannibalise the dinner I have already prepared for you, I can serve you something now, whilst keeping some dishes back until your colleagues arrive." "Capital"exclaimed Sir Hector, "that will work perfectly!" So whilst Mum served Sir hector his somewhat truncated dinner, I quickly cleaned up the kitchen and laid out drinks and glasses on a tray. Mum returned to the kitchen; "Well you aren't really dressed for 'waiting on'" she grumbled, "but we will have to do the best we can." Opening her makeup bag, she proceeded to freshen up my appearance to something more appropriate for evening work. She fussed around with my wig, brushing and teasing it until it looked somewhat smarter than it had when she started. "We can't do much about your clothes" she mussed, '"but I think I have a clean waitress's apron in the van." She did; and soon I looked sufficiently respectable for Mum to deem I was capable of waiting at table. Sir Hector's guest arrived just after 10pm. I let them in; took their coats and showed them through to the lounge where Sir Hector was waiting. As he greeted them, I poured champagne and served them. I then retired to the kitchen and helped Mum make final adjustments to her supper. When Sir Hector rang the bell, we were ready and I took the first course through. The supper went very smoothly. The three men were engrossed in their conversation and never once glanced up at the little waitress who was serving them their food and wine. Finally they finished at table and I took coffee and brandy through to them in the lounge. At long last Sir Hector acknowledged my presence; "Thank you Teresa" he said with a smile. "That was splendid. I won't require you or your mother further tonight, but could you come back in the morning and clear up?" "Of course Sir" I replied; and left. Mum and I tidied the kitchen and then drove home. The following day we returned to Mayfair. Mum explained to me that Sir Hector was clearly expecting us both back again and that required me, once again, to dress up as 'Teresa'. I didn't put up too much of a fight as I was starting to enjoy presenting myself in a female persona. In fact I went so far as to insist on wearing sheerer tights, higher heels, and a pretty dress rather than the dreary skirt and blouse. I also put on rather more fashionable makeup and re-dressed my wig. Mum smiled and went along with my little vanities. Sir Hector was up and about, casually dressed in a check shirt and tan trousers. (He was really rather dishy, and I caught myself thinking that had I really been a girl, I could have quite fancied him!) He thanked us both profusely for everything we had done the previous day and insisted on giving Mum a large tip. I was rocked back a bit when he also handed me three ?20 notes; "as a little thank you". (Clearly Sir Hector wasn't short of a bob or two!) "My associates are flying back to America this afternoon" he explained. "They will be returning next week to respond to the proposition I have put to them. I wonder if I might prevail upon you, Mrs. Hamilton to prepare a dinner for seven of us that evening?" Mum immediately accepted. "And could Teresa serve at table?" continued Sir Hector. I tried to make faces at Mum to say that this wouldn't be possible, but to no avail. "Of course Sir; she would be delighted" was Mum's response. So I was stuck with being a 'girl' for another evening! Sir Hector went out shortly afterwards and Mum and I finished tidying up after the previous evenings supper party. It didn't take long and we were soon in Mum's van driving home. "Why did you volunteer me to be the waitress next week?" I grumbled. "Surely one of your other ladies could have taken on that task?" "Of course they could" replied Mum calmly, "but Sir Hector seems to have taken a shine to you and to appreciate the quality of your work. You did really well yesterday you know. I was very proud of you. Not only for your hard work cleaning and then waiting at table, but for being prepared to go along with my request to work in female role." "Thanks Mum" I responded with a smile. "I'm really glad I was able to help you out of a jam. But now I seem to have got myself into one. I never intended to spend a chunk of my vacation working as a girl!" We both had a good laugh at this. "It won't do you any harm to learn a bit about how the 50% of the human race who aren't men live" Mum reposted; "And you do really make a very pretty girl." I blushed. "Well I have to confess to liking dressing up occasionally" I admitted "And it will be good not having to wait until I'm back in Manchester next term before having another chance to do so. But I am scared that there is a real risk of Sir Hector catching me out if I spend another evening working for him, and I would hate to be the cause of your loosing his contract." "I don't think there is much chance of that", said Mum. "As I have said, you are very realistic as a girl and Sir Hector will be fully occupied with his guests, so if you stay in the background - as you did yesterday evening - I don't see there is too much of a risk of your being found out." With that reassurance I had to be content. We drove home and I changed out of my feminine working clothes and back into 'male drab'. I had enjoyed looking pretty but it was a bit of a relief to get out of heels and back into comfortable trainers. Boys can slob about in ways that girls rarely, if ever, do. The next few days I spent as 'Terry', reconnecting with my friends and enjoying walking on Hampstead Heath and along the Regent's Canal. On the Saturday Mum reminded me; "We have Sir Hector's dinner booking on Monday evening. I need to get in the ingredients for the meal and we ought to buy you a few female clothes of your own. It isn't really right that you use my lingerie and, whilst you look good in them, my dresses are a bit lacking in style for a young 'girl' like you." I have to admit to a bit of a thrill at the thought of shopping for my own clothes although I tried my best to hide my elation from Mum! I hurriedly shaved and showered, checking my legs and arms for any hair regrowth - all was well. Mum loaned me a pair of elastic knickers, a bra, and a pair of tights and I was soon securely attired in female under-garments. As I slipped the 'rice bag' breast forms into my bra cups, Mum looked thoughtful. "I think we ought to treat you to something a bit more realistic in the breast department" she mussed. "I have been looking on-line and have found a shop that specializes in serving 'girls' like you. It is in Walthamstow, so not too far away. I suggest we make a visit there first before going clothes shopping." So that is what we did. A short tube and bus ride brought us to 'Madeleine's', a discrete ladies clothing shop on the High Street. There was nothing obvious to indicate it catered principally for cross-dressing men. That is until we stepped inside. There we found a couple of middle-aged men browsing through racks of gaudy dresses, whilst a very camp shop assistant was busy folding bras away into carefully labeled boxes. The shop seemed like something from 50 years ago. A glass topped and fronted counter displayed trays of underwear carefully arranged by size and style. Shelves all round the walls were piled high with cardboard boxes, each labeled with its contents in black marker pen. High shelves contained displays of wigs in a variety of colours, cuts and styles. An elderly lady, a motherly figure, stood behind the counter; she smiled as we entered and spoke to us. "Hallo dears, how can I help you today?" she enquired. I had never been into a shop like this before. (My few clothes purchases in Manchester had come from either charity shops or Marks and Spencer.) To be honest, I was at a loss as to how to respond. Fortunately Mum stepped into the breach. "My son has recently become serious about his cross-dressing and needs some quality breast forms" she said. We would also like to buy some gaffs, and possibly hip and butt pads. (My goodness but Mum had done her research well; a week ago I wound never have expected her to even know of such things and here she was ordering them with aplomb!) Madeleine - (for it was the proprietor herself who was serving us) - turned not a hair. "It is unusually for a parent of a client to accompany them on a shopping expedition" she informed us. "I must congratulate you on your evident support for your child." "You are a lucky girl my dear" she continued, turning to me. She busied herself getting items from a number of boxes. Deciding on the gaffs was relatively straightforward. They were of the 'one size fits all' variety and we bought three, all flesh coloured. Madeleine suggested I put on a pair, so I went into the changing room, slipped off my tights and knickers and donned, with some difficulty, my first gaff. It was a little embarrassing, as Madeleine would insist in giving me helpful hints on 'how to tuck' from outside the changing room curtain! Eventually I was securely, if somewhat uncomfortable, under control. I re-dressed in my knickers and tights. Madeleine called out to me saying; "Take your dress and bra off so that I can fit you for breast forms." I did as she requested and soon the three of us were deep in conversation as regarding the relative merits of different styles of breast form. We finally settled on a C-cup form that could either be worn as a bra insert or glued directly onto my chest. As Madeleine said, examining my torso with a critical eye; "Although she is quite a slimly built girl, I think a C-cup is right for her breadth of chest if she wants to blend in with the crowd. Of course if she subsequently decides to go for a more tarty look, we can easily provide her with a DD or larger form." (I had no desire to have even bigger breasts; the silicon C-cup ones looked enormous to me compared to the rice-bags that until then I had been using to stuff my bras!) On Madeleine's advice, we also purchased two pairs of panties padded out at the hip and bottom. She also strongly recommended I buy a strong corset with stays and laces to pull in my waist. "With the padding and the tightening, your daughter will be able to achieve some nice curves" she told Mum. We resisted Madeleine's efforts to get us to buy yet more items. "We will have more choice at a better price in high street clothes shops" Mum whispered to me. Even so the bill for the things we did buy came as a shock. There was no way I could afford that! But Mum insisted on picking up the bill. "After all I haven't had the pleasure of being able to shop for a daughter all these years" she announced; "I am enjoying the opportunity!" Once we had left the shop - with me wearing my new corset, breast forms, padded girdle and gaff - I thanked Mum profusely. "That's OK dear" was her response. "Now le's enjoy the fun part and see what pretty clothes we can find for you to wear!" Walthamstow High Street had lots of inexpensive clothing stores and we spent a couple of very happy hours finding and trying on all sorts of garments. In the end I staggered home the proud possessor of three matching bra and pantie sets; three extra pairs of knickers - ("You will need to change your knickers more often than your bra" was Mum's motherly advice); several packets of tights in various colours and denier; two blouses - one cream, the other a pretty floral pattern; one straight navy blue skirt and a pleated cream one; a denim mini-skirt and crop top; a lightweight pale blue sweater; and three dresses - all with hems well above the knee; (unlike those I had been borrowing from Mum). We also managed to acquire four pairs of shoes - four-inch heels - including a pair of wedge-heeled sandals, two pairs of court shoes for daywear, and a glitzy strappy pair for evenings. The MAC cosmetic counter in one store provided a basic makeup kit appropriate for my skin tone and colouring. And, finally, a handbag for all those 'bits and pieces' a girl just has to carry around with her! We had to stop shopping; we literally couldn't carry any more. Somehow or other we managed to stagger home and collapsed on the sofa before I made us a well-earned cup of tea. I thanked Mum again for her generosity but she brushed it aside. "You will need some different and more appropriate clothes if you are going to working at Sir Hector's this summer" she counseled. (I had thought I would only be going to his house once more but Mum said she anticipated he would be asking the two of us to handle more meals for him.) After a day 'en femme' my instinct was to get out of my finery and revert to being 'Terry' but Mum would have none of it. "Now that you have some pretty clothes of your own, I want to get pleasure from seeing you wearing them" she insisted. She had been so kind and generous, I couldn't deny her and so we spent the evening in an impromptu fashion show with me trying on all my new clothes and Mum rummaging through her wardrobe for odd things she had decided were now to 'young' for her but which she hadn't had the heart to throw away. By the end of the evening I had a very decent female wardrobe and I had to pack up some of my surplus male garments to fit everything into my room. Sunday morning I was due to play in a local football match with some of my ex-school mates, so that was definitely a 'Terry' day. Mum seemed a bit disappointed that I didn't femme up for the evening, but tough! Monday was different! The day started with me, in male mode, helping Mum buy the fresh ingredients for that evening's dinner party; than I lent a hand in the kitchen with the initial preparation. At lunchtime Mum suggested I should start getting ready. "We need to be at Sir Hector's no later than 3:00pm " she announced "and it will take you at least an hour to prepare yourself as 'Teresa'. After all you don't want to risk being found out, do you?" Too right I didn't, so I skedaddled off to the bathroom for an application of hair remover and a close shave. In fact it actually took me close on an hour and a half to get dressed and made up to my satisfaction. Even then I had to ask Mum for help with the final bits and pieces. So I was only just ready in time to help Mum load her partially prepared dinner into the van. I had put my 'waitressing outfit' - (cream blouse, straight black skirt, black tights, and black pumps) - into a garment bag and was currently dressed in a simple blue shift dress and 2inch heels ready for helping out in the kitchen. We both worked hard in Sir Hector's apartment; Mum in the kitchen and me laying up the dining room. I set the table with beautiful porcelain; lovely cut glass; and antique silver cutlery. We had purchased some fresh flowers in the market and I enjoyed making up a table centrepiece and bowls of flowers around the room. I also laid out glasses in the lounge in readiness to serve pre-dinner drinks. Sir Hector arrived home at about half past six told us that his guests were due at 7:30pm and that dinner should be served at 8:15. "This is a business dinner" he explained, "and by the end of it I hope to have signatures on a contract. Therefore I would like your service to be as unobtrusive as possible Teresa. Just use your initiative to clear and serve, as you deem appropriate. After the meal please serve coffee and liquors in the drawing room. I am afraid I am going to have to ask both of you to be prepared to stay on until the end of the evening. I don't know how long our discussions will take and we may need regular inputs of coffee and booze!" Mum assured him that was fine and that we would be on hand to do what ever was necessary. I went to change my clothes and freshen up mu makeup, so that by 7:30 I was ready at the door to welcome Sir Hector's guests. First to arrive were the three members of his own team. The Americans arrived shortly after and I served drinks in the drawing room. Promptly at 8:15, having checked with Mum first, I announced; 'Dinner is served." The meal seemed to go well. I served and removed Mum's various courses although, to my chagrin, insufficient attention was paid to the delicious dishes we had prepared. Still this was business and they were American! Finally Sir Hector caught my eye and indicated that they were ready to leave the table. Everyone retired to the drawing room and I served coffee and liquors. I then discretely withdrew, leaving a full coffee pot and tray of drinks on a side table. The next hour or so dragged interminably whilst Mum and I sat in the kitchen. We had washed and cleared up everything long before the bell rang to indicate Sir Hector required so attention. I hastened to the drawing room only to be told that the guests were ready to depart. I scurried around getting coats and briefcases, and within a few minutes the flat was quiet once again. Sir Hector breathed a sigh of relief. "Well that went well. We have the signed contract. Thank you Mrs. Hamilton; your superb dinner certainly help get everyone relaxed and in the right frame of mind. Thanks to you also Teresa, your service was exemplary; nobody lacked for anything but you were totally unobtrusive. Now is there any champagne left as I think we all deserve a glass!" There was, and soon the three of us were sitting in the drawing room toasting ' a successful evening' in rather good champagne. "Tell me Teresa" Sir Hector enquired, "Do you work full-time for your Mother?" "No Sir" I responded, "I'm on vacation from university where I am reading computer science." Sir Hector was obviously surprised and my reply and quizzed me about my course. From here our conversation moved to our life in North London and how I spent my time back home from Manchester. This kept me on my toes as I tried to answer him truthfully but from a feminine perspective. In this way he learned that I enjoyed football and supported Arsenal - (this wasn't too complicated as many girls follow football these days). "I'm a Chelsea man myself", he confessed, 'but here in London we are lucky to have so many excellent teams to choose from." I had to agree with him and the next twenty minutes or so were taken up with the two of us comparing the relative merits of different London teams. Mum sat back smiling indulgently all the while. Eventually Mum interrupted us to indicate that it was time for she and I to go home. Sir Hector thanked us once again and insisted on calling, and paying, for a taxi to take us home. "It is far to late to think about driving home" he insisted. "Leave your van here Mrs. Hamilton and you or Teresa can collect it in the morning." And that was how it was. I picked up the van next morning - (in 'Terry' mode) - and thought my working days as a girl were over. I had enjoyed myself very much, but wasn't unhappy about reverting to being 'Terry' once again. Until now my cross-dressing had never been that extensive. I had experimented during puberty by trying on some of Mum's clothes, but once she caught me at it I hadn't done it again until I gone up to Manchester and discovered the delights of The Village. Even then I had only gone out dressed a couple of times a month. During the last ten days however, I seemed to have spent more time as a girl than I had as a boy. Mum was a bit disappointed by the disappearance of her 'daughter' but I was enjoying myself going down the pub with my mates and playing the odd game of football. I was therefore unprepared when one evening I received a phone call from Sir Hector. "Teresa?" he enquired; "I remember that you are a supporter of Arsenal. They are playing Chelsea on Friday in a pre-season friendly charity match. I have acquired a couple of tickets and wonder if you would like to come with me?" This was an amazing opportunity. I had known of the match and, indeed, had tried and failed to get a ticket myself. All my mates would be so envious if they knew I had actually seen it. So, without thinking, I blurted out; "Oh I would love to!" It was only then that my brain caught up with my mouth and I realized I had just said "yes" to a date with one of my Mother's clients - and as a 'girl' as well! Sir Hector declared himself delighted I could join him and suggested I meet him at his flat at 6:00pm the following Friday. "We can go on to Stamford Bridge from there" he said. "I apologise for not offering to pick you up from home, but getting across London on a Friday night can be a nightmare. It will be quicker, and safer. For you to make your way to my place by public transport and we can then go on by taxi." He was right and I had to agree with him. We ended our conversation; I put the phone down and turned to Mum in confusion. "What have I just agreed to?" I shrieked in desperation. "I was so carried away by the prospect of seeing the match that I have somehow agreed to going on a 'date' with a man!" I burst into tears. Mum comforted me. "It's OK darling," she cooed. "Sir Hector is accustomed to seeing you as a girl. If we get you properly presented he won't suspect your true gender, even in a 'one to one' situation." I wasn't reassured, but there wasn't much I could do about it now; I was committed! Friday dawned and I awoke to the realization that tonight I was going to face my toughest challenge yet in terms of passing as a girl. On Mum's advice I settled on a very simple outfit; mushroom coloured tee shirt; fawn trousers; cardigan; socks and trainers. We put these together by raided both my and her wardrobes. Once dressed and made up I presented myself for Mum's inspection; she was very complimentary. "No-one would ever suspect you are really a boy" she announced, "You look like a very pretty girl. Clearly you were born into the wrong gender!" Thanks Mum!! I couldn't bring myself to risk going across to Mayfair by tube and/or bus. There was too much chance that I would be spotted as a cross- dressed male, so I booked a minicab; huddled down in the back seat; and avoided conversation with the driver. I arrived at Sir Hector's place and nervously rang the bell. When I had come here previously, Mum had had a key, but now I was arriving as an invited guest. Sir Hector let me in and led me through to the drawing room, where he poured me a glass of white wine. "It is very kind of you to invite me to see this match Sir Hector" I managed to blurt out. "None of the 'Sir' and less of the 'Hector'" he admonished. "It isn't my fault that some Victorian ancestor bought himself a baronetcy and that 'Hector' has been the name wished upon every eldest son since! My friends call me 'Tory" and I would like to consider you a friend." I was a bit embarrassed. After all he had only known me as his cleaner and waitress; hardly the basis for 'friendship'! However, he was smiling sweetly so I acquiesced and said; "Thank you Tory. I am really looking forward to this evening. It should be a good match." And so the conversation switched effortlessly to football and the two of us were away, comparing the prospects for each team and the relative merits of those occupying specific positions. We were having fun. Finishing our wine, Tory declared it was time to depart and so we hailed a taxi and set off for Stamford Bridge. Tory had obtained a pair of excellent seats and we both really enjoyed the game - (which ended in a 2:2 draw.) Afterwards, Tory suggested a bite to eat, so we retired to a small restaurant on the King's Road and partook of a late supper. Once again our conversation was focused on football and my work at university in computer science. From my point of view, all too soon Tory was calling for the bill and we were preparing to depart. I realised just how much I enjoyed his company. I didn't 'fancy' him - we were both men for goodness sake and I wasn't gay! However, Tory was someone whom I would have considered as a 'good mate' had I been able to be honest with him as to my true gender. We took a taxi back to his place in Mayfair. He did invite me in for a nightcap but I declined on the basis that it was very late and I had some holiday assignment work to submit to the University the following day. The truth was I didn't want to risk him getting physical with me. Tory accepted my reasoning, albeit reluctantly, and paid the taxi driver to take me back to North London. Mum was in bed by the time I got home. I cleaned off my makeup; undressed; and got into bed. I had had a lovely evening and I fell asleep dreaming of how differently things might have ended had I truly been a girl! Next morning Mum was eager to quiz me as to how things had gone. I was amused to notice that she was talking as if we were 'one woman to another', even though I was very evidently in 'Terry' mode that morning! I told her what a great evening I had had and how I thought that Tory and I could have become good friends had our relationship not started with a lie. Mum sympathized but only up to a point; "He is attracted to you as a woman" she announced. "Play your hand from that perspective and you never know how the cards will fall." I'm sorry Mum" I replied, 'I like Tory very much but not in a sexual way. I'm just not attracted to men. You may find it hard to believe, but just because I like to cross- dress occasionally, it doesn't mean that I am gay. Did you know that the majority of cross-dressers are straight?" Mum didn't, and that started a whole new conversation! I emailed Tory a note of 'thanks' for our evening and concluded, conventionally, by hoping that it wouldn't be too long before we met up once again. This was conventional politeness and I never considered I would receive a reply. To my surprise, by return, I received a note suggesting we meet for drinks that evening as "he had a business proposition to put to me that he thought would be of interest". What to do? I consulted Mum. "You must go of course" was her immediate response. "It would be rude not too and, anyway, if Sir Hector means what he says about having a business proposition to put to you, it could be the first foothold on a ladder to a career for you." Reluctantly I agreed and emailed Tory back agreeing to meet him. We settled that I would come to his office in the City at 6:30pm. I made sure I dressed in a manner appropriate for a business meeting - ie one of Mum's tailored suits; crisply ironed blouse; and high heels. Prompt to time I arrived and was shown up to Tory's office on the penthouse floor. The views were magnificent! Tory was very businesslike. He poured me a drink and told me how much he had enjoyed our evening at the football, before getting down to business. "You recall how the other evening we were talking about you course at Manchester University" he started; "And how you explained that in your second year you are going to be required to set up a joint project within the industry? Well I have a proposition to put too you. I have just taken control of an electronic gaming company. Their technical expertise is second to none, but I can't help feeling that there must be more to this technology than blasting alien invaders into oblivion! The trick will be in finding ways to blend educational elements into games that will appeal to the competitive instincts of young people. And I am thinking of girls as well as boys here. You are ideally placed to set up a small-scale research project to test out my suppositions. What do you say?" This was an offer almost too wonderful to contemplate. I knew my Tutors would be delighted if I returned to university with a project like this in my briefcase. Now-a-days University Departments depend on commercial contracts for much of their funding and I knew that a link into business like this would be just up their street. There was just one fly in the ointment - and it was a big one! If I accepted Tory's offer, it would mean my continuing my pretense to be 'Teresa'. But the University knew me as 'Terry'. There was no way I could continue the deception without being found out. My initial reaction was to turn down Tory's offer with some spurious explanation about why it wouldn't fit with what the University expected from me. Then I thought; "To hell with it. Tory deserves better; I will tell him the truth, even if it means the end of our friendship and the loss of Mum's contract with him." And so I told him; "I'm sorry Tory, but just about everything I have told you about myself is a lie. I'm not actually 'Teresa"; my real name is 'Terry' and I am a boy! I am a cross-dresser who likes to indulge his feminine side from time to time. When you emailed Mum to say you were returning home at short notice, she didn't have any of her regular staff available and I offered to help out. However, because of your prohibition against men cleaning in your flat, I had to pretend I was a woman. You came home unexpectedly early; discovered me as a girl; and things just escalated from there. I never deliberately set out to deceive you; it just happened. All too soon things got out of hand and I was forced to continue to pretend I was female." I couldn't continue. It was all too emotional and I broke down n tears. Tory hastened to comfort me. "But Teresa, what makes you think I wasn't aware that you are genetically male?" he enquired. "Well you never said anything" was my somewhat stunned reply. "Oh, don't get me wrong" Tory continued, " you are very convincing as a woman, but, having been in your company for hours at a time, it was inevitable that I should notice slight mannerisms and body language that weren't quite right." "But why didn't you say something?" I blurted out. "Why should I?" he responded; "It is no business of mine how people like to dress and behave. I like to think I am liberally minded; the fact that you seemed to want to present yourself as a woman didn't bother me, so I ignored the fact." "But you invited me out on a 'date'!" I continued accusingly. "That's true" said Tory. 'But I like you and enjoy your company. We had a good time, didn't we?" I had to confess that I had enjoyed our time together very much indeed. "Well then" said Tory, "No harm has been done so where is the problem?" On reflection I couldn't positively identify any! "But I have deceived you" I blurted out. "I am equally to blame by not owning up to the fact that I was aware of your pretense" Tory continued. "Why don't we both 'forgive and forget'? We could have behaved differently, but we didn't. That doesn't alter the fact that we enjoy each other's company. Let's shake hands and be friends." So that is what we did! Once everything was out in then open between us, the conversation became much more straightforward. Tory went into more detail about his research proposition and I took copious notes as to the outcomes he was looking for. I thought I could deliver on his expectations and gratefully accepted his suggestion to become an 'Intern' of his new company; on a retainer that would significantly reduce my financial burdens at university! We agreed that Tory would arrange for me to meet the CEO of his new 'gaming' company - (in 'Terry' mode, of course!) - and that the offer of research work would be dependent upon his approval. In the event my meeting with Brian, the CEO, went extremely well, and I was commissioned, at a very good retainer, to deliver research data one year hence. Mum was delighted with the outcome of my vacation machinations. "I have enjoyed having a 'daughter' around for a few weeks" she confessed. "And I have enjoyed being your daughter" I responded. "It is just that I don't see myself in that role full-time." "I understand, dear" said Mum. "If my butterfly comes out of her chrysalis from time to time, I'll be satisfied." As this matched up with my wish to dress occasionally, I was happy to agree with her and we hugged and kissed. After having had a long telephone conversation with my University Tutor, I was eventually able to agree 'terms of reference' with Brian. Tory was delighted things had worked out so well. "I'm really pleased 'Terry' will be working for us this coming year" he told me. "But I still expect 'Teresa"'to be available to wait-on when I am entertaining!" Laughing, we agreed that was a fair compromise. So here we are three years later; I have just graduated from Manchester University with a 'First' in Computer Science. I already have a job to go to with Tory's gaming company - Brian was embarrassingly anxious to secure my services! 'Teresa' has continued to be a regular, if infrequent, visitor to The Village and I now have a wide circle of cross-dressing friends. Of particular note has been my attendance at two 'Sparkle Festivals' - occasions each summer when the centre of Manchester is totally given over to the transgendered community. Actually I spend most of my time these days as 'Terry'. I still very much enjoy my cross-dressing, but it is an occasional, if necessary, treat. I spend a lot of time socializing with my male mates, playing and watching football and drinking down the pub. I have also acquired a long-term girlfriend who, fortunately, knows about and is tolerant with the duality of my nature. She doesn't mind us going out occasionally as 'girlfriends', but I take care not to overdo it and put her patience to the test. Back home in London I do tend to spend a bit more time 'en femme'. Although she had been aware of my cross-dressing inclinations for a long time, Mum had never really faced up to what that meant until the events I have been recording. Somewhat to her surprise, she really enjoyed having a 'daughter' to share things with. She missed this intimacy when I went back to Manchester, so I do indulge her when I am at home. Even then I don't go 'girlie' 24/7. Tory and I have become good friends and he very generously treats me to tickets for some of the events he attends. We play a bit of a game with each other in that, unless he is specific about how he wants me to dress, he never knows in advance whether I am going to turn up as 'Terry" or 'Teresa'! However he gets his own back, as I am sure that the number of dinner parties he arranges during my vacations are specifically designed so that he can have 'Teresa' serving at his table! All in all I am very lucky. Those I love and care for know about both sides of my personality, and I get sufficient 'girl time' to satisfy my needs. What more can girlie-boy ask for?