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Brighton Pier By Belle Gordon The heavy iron door banged shut and the keys turned in the lock. I lay down on my bed and resigned myself to being locked up for the next twenty two hours. As I'd done many times previously I cursed my stupidity. Love had blinded me to the risks and dangers involved in breaking the law. I thought I had covered my tracks but I'd got careless and greedy. Inevitably I got caught. I should have foreseen what was likely to happen when I'd stolen the fabulous sapphire necklace. It was to have been a gift for the one I adored. But instead it had brought about my downfall. At my trial I was found guilty of theft and misappropriation of government property. The judge sentenced me to 3 years imprisonment with the last one suspended and I was removed from the court to Her Majesty's Prison, Winchester to serve it. Life could get no worse I reflected, I'd lost my job, lost my liberty, would forever have a criminal record, but worst of all I'd lost the person I loved above all else; my beautiful Simone. But I'd been caught and now must pay the price. As the old lags say: You did the crime, now serve your time. I lay with my hands behind my head and thought back on the events that found me staring at the grey stone walls of my prison cell. ***** The afternoon was blustery with the first chill of autumn in the air as I took my daily walk along the sea front. A few other hardy souls were braving the weather, probably the last of the summer visitors. A young man hurried passed me talking urgently and loudly into a cell phone. Up ahead was one of the ornate Victorian shelters provided for promenaders to rest awhile in. I ducked in out of the wind and sat on the slatted wooden seat looking out at the sea. Taking a cigarette from a crumpled packet I crouched into a corner to light it. I paused with the lighter's flame a few inches from the tip and stared at the object in the corner of the seat. Letting the lighter snap shut I picked up the leatherette case. It was quite weighty, the top flap was closed with a strip of Velcro and the carrying strap had been wound around the case several times. Inside was a camera. I took it out and saw the Sony logo and the legend NEX-VG900. It was obviously a very expensive cam-corder. I looked up and down the sea front but saw no-one who might be heading my way to reclaim it. I lit my cigarette and smoked it watching the gulls wheeling and screaming in the gale. As I smoked I considered what I should do with the camera. These shelters were owned and maintained by the council, and as with other council and government buildings anything found in them was handed in to the lost property office. Being employed by Brighton and Hove Borough Council as custodian of the lost property office the obvious thing to do was to bring it with me when I returned to work on Monday morning. Finishing my cigarette I flicked the butt over the sea wall, and picked up the camera bag. Still no-one had come looking for it so I stuffed it inside my coat and set off, walking with my head bowed into the cold wind which was strengthening. Finally back in the warmth of my apartment I stripped off and showered, turning the water to as hot as I could bear, washing the chill from my bones. Wrapped in the terry cloth robe I poured myself to a generous Johnny Walker Black Label and turned my attention to the cam-corder. I swung the viewing screen out from the side of the machine and studied the buttons for a few minutes then pressed 'on'. The screen came to life and showed a view of my room. Well as least the battery had power I thought. Pressing what I thought must be the play back button I was pleased to see that the screen changed to show the interior of a bedroom. It was a neat well lit room containing a bed covered with a blue and white duvet, a chest of drawers with a television on it and a large leafy plant in the corner. I realized I was looking at a reflection of the room as the tripod mounted camera could be seen to one side pointing at a mirrored wall. Nothing happened for several moments then a woman walked into view. I judged her to be in her early twenties, about five feet nine, slim with wavy auburn shoulder length hair that she'd pulled back off her neck and pinned up. She wore a black diaphanous negligee and black lace panties. Smiling into the camera lens she began to gyrate. Her movements increased and she pirouetted on white high heeled sandals, swirling the negligee about exposing her perfect legs and the tiny panties. She continued dancing and swaying for several minutes before approaching the camera, pouting her lips in a kiss and winking. Then blackness as the recording ended. I thought she was probably the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. I started at the blank screen not believing what I'd just witnessed. I had just watched one of the sexiest scenes I'd ever seen. I replayed it again loving the way she moved; the way she sat on a leather pouffe waving her long shapely legs in the air; her beautiful face and body. My cock was rock hard and I slowly masturbated as I watched again. After the third viewing I knew I was in love with this mysterious woman and determined to somehow find her. But how? One clue was a brief glimpse out of a window as the camera was being set up. It showed a section of beach and in the background a pier. Looking more closely I could clearly make out the twin turrets with their flags and the words Brighton Pier strung between them. The pier appeared to be at least 2 kilometres away and to the west of where the film was made. The appearance of the pier in the shot meant she was most probably a local girl. I hoped she wasn't a visitor who had since left. Connecting the cam-corder to my computer I played the tape again stopping it at the window scene. Studying the picture I could see that the window had to be in a high rise building. Windows lower down would have the view of the pier blocked by other buildings in the street. I printed off a copy of the frame and with the aid of an ordnance survey map and some rough triangulation I calculated that the most likely place was a tower block opposite the marina to the east of the town. The following day was Saturday and the weather promised to be better than yesterday. The wind had dropped and the sun was trying to break through the cloud. After a quick breakfast I set out with my map and the video grab. Busses travelled regularly back and forth along the sea front and I caught one from where he lived in Hove to the marina. I spent an hour walking up and down the street comparing my position to that in the photo; I was trying to position myself so that what I was looking at was exactly the same as the picture. When I thought I'd got it about right I was pleased to see I stood outside the high rise building I'd identified the previous night as the most likely location. I sat on the harbour wall and studied the building. It was a square block, ten stories high with four apartments to a floor, one in each corner surrounding a central lift shaft. I could eliminate the eastern corner as the view of the pier was from the western side. Similarly I could discount the two rear apartments. The first seven floors would not be able to see the pier either because their view was obscured by neighbouring houses, which left the top three floors at the west front corner. Therefore one of these apartments must be where the video had been made. I crossed the road and entered the lobby. It was deserted and looked as though it had seen better days. On the right of the lift shaft was an array of forty mail boxes with call bells besides them. The name beside eighty one was S. Nuffield; ninety one was blank and a hundred and one had the names Martha and Fred Deere. These last two I felt I could discount as they were unlikely to be making the sort of film I'd watched. Ninety one was a mystery; it had either lost its label or was unoccupied. This left eighty one as the most likely. My next problem was how to approach the occupants. I gave it a lot of thought as I travelled back to my apartment. I rang directory enquiries and asked for the phone number of S. Nuffield. I wrote it down then called again and asked for the Deere's number. I dialled their number and the phone was answered by a man who sounded elderly and grumpy. "Hello," I said. "Is that Mr Fred Deere?" ?Yes,? he said with a touch of suspicion in his voice. ?I?m trying to locate a friend of mine who used to live in your apartment building? I said. ?In number ninety one. He not answering his phone, I don?t suppose you know if he?s still living there, do you?? ?There?s no one there," he said. ?Place has been empty for months. He skipped town when the police came looking for him. Always knew he was no good.? He hung up and I was left listening to the buzz. Well, that answered two questions; I can certainly forget the Deere?s and ninety one is definitely vacant. I dialled Nuffield?s number. I was about to hang up when the phone was answered. A man?s voice said, ?Hello, Simon Nuffield.? I was momentarily nonplussed; I had expected a woman?s voice to answer. I must be wrong about this being the apartment after all. ?I?m Sorry,? I said, ?I must have got the wrong number.? I dropped the phone onto its cradle. I watched the video again paying more attention to the interior than to the scantily clad woman. I could see no sign of a male presence; no clothing or shoes, none of the usual stuff men leave around. In fact nothing masculine whatsoever. I made myself a sandwich and a cup of tea and was halfway through eating it when a thought suddenly occurred to me. I started the cam-corder again at the beginning and paused at the window. Yes, it had to be the right place. The window frames in this block were the only ones with a quarter- light at the bottom instead of at the top as they they usually were. Next, I Googled estate agents in Brighton then went methodically through each web site looking at the properties they had for sale or to let. I eventually hit pay dirt and phoned the office of J. Ford and Partners Ltd. Estate Agents and Valuers, and enquired if apartment ninety one was still on the market. It was I was assured, so I arranged to see it the next day. I met Mr. Ford in the lobby at ten o?clock the next morning. As we waited for the lift to descend I only half listened to his spiel about what a wonderful building it was. The elevator doors slid open and a man stepped out. We nodded briefly to each other as we passed and then stepped into the lift. Ford pressed the button and continued his chatter as we ascended. I was puzzled for I was sure I knew the man we had passed; he looked awfully familiar. I went through the charade of asking pertinent questions of Mr Ford but all I wanted to do was confirm that I could see the pier from the window and that it was the same view as on the video. It was. Later back in my apartment I thought about the man getting off the lift. He could live in any of the other apartments; I didn?t even know which floor he had got the lift from. He might not live there at all and be just visiting. But his similarity to the woman in the film was remarkable. Perhaps it was an extraordinary coincidence that they looked so alike. Maybe he was her twin brother. Or the possibility that really intrigued me; could he be the same person? Was he a transvestite? On Monday morning I arrived early for work and opened up the lost property office. I?d brought the cam-corder with me in my duffle bag. Items left on busses, trains, taxis or in council and government buildings, all eventually find their way to me. The section is located in a windowless basement below the town hall and is stuffed full with all manner of things the general public has lost. They range from the most commonly lost items; umbrellas and spectacles, to lap-tops, mobile phones, handbags, shopping bags and even a set of false teeth (although who would bother to hand in such an item was a mystery to me) and even a prosthetic foot. I telephoned Mr. Nuffield again. ?Good morning, is this Mr. Simon Nuffield?? I asked when he answered. ?Yes.? ?My name is Sam Ferguson, from the Borough Council?s lost property office,? I announced. ?I believe I may have an item of photographic equipment that belongs to you. Have you by any chance lost such an item recently?? ?Yes I have.? ?Could you describe it to me please?? ?Yes, it?s a Sony cam-corder in a black leatherette carrying case. But how did you find it?? ?A member of the public handed it in to us. Can you confirm your address please?? He did, and then said, ?How did you know it belonged to me. I know it doesn?t have my name and address on it. I meant to write it on but never got round to doing it.? ?We have our methods sir,? I replied evasively. ?Would it be convenient if I called round later with it? Say around five thirty?? Official policy stated that claimants should collect lost property themselves and that on no account were goods to be delivered in person. But on this occasion I was going to make an exception and to hell with the rules. I had to confirm I had the correct place. ?Yes, yes of course. I?ll be home by then.? ?Will your wife be there also?? ?No I?m not married.? ?Girlfriend or sister then?? ?No, there?s no one. Why do you need to know that?? he asked with a hint of suspicion in his voice. ?In cases like this we like to have a witness to confirm that the item has been handed over and that it is the correct one.? ?Oh I see. Well I?m afraid I live alone and there is no-one I can ask.? ?A pity, but maybe I can make an exception in this case. I?ll see you about five thirty then. Goodbye Mr. Nuffield.? At a little after half past five I pressed the bell beside his mail box. A few seconds later his tinny voice asked who was there. ?Sam Ferguson. From the Borough Lost Property Office,? I said. ?Come on up. Eighth floor, number one.? A buzzer sounded and the door unlocked. I pushed through, entered the lift and punched eight. As I approached his door I realized I was feeling a little nervous. I wasn?t sure how this was going to play out. I just knew I had to find out who the beautiful woman in the video was. The door opened and there stood the man I had seen yesterday exiting the lift as Mr. Ford and I were waiting to visit flat ninety one. And it was undoubtedly the same face as the woman in the film. ?Come in Mr. Ferguson," he said, holding out his hand. I shook it and was surprised at how soft and warm it felt. It was quite limp with no grip at all. ?Good of you to bring my camera back. Would you like some tea or a coffee?? ?No thank you,? I said. ?Would you have any proof of ownership; sales receipt, credit card bill, guarantee or anything?? ?Yes, I thought you might want to see something so I found the shop receipt from where I bought it.? He produced several pieces of paper. I glanced at them maintaining the farce of officialdom, although I was now certain that it belonged to him. As I?d entered the apartment the door to his bedroom stood open and one look inside confirmed it was the correct place. There was the bed complete with blue and white patterned duvet, the chest with the TV and the view of Brighton pier from his window. ?These seem to be in order,? I said. ?I?ll just need your signature on this receipt, if you wouldn?t mind?? He quickly scribbled his name and I handed him the camera case. ?Thank you so much. I?m so relieved to get it back," he said. ?It is very expensive and I never really expected to see it again. It was stupid of me to leave it in a promenade shelter. There was a crisis at work with one of the programmes I?m working on and I had to rush back to the office.? ?There is just one more thing,? I said. ?I took the liberty of viewing the contents and I?d be most interested to know who the young woman is?? I was startled to see that he had gone a bright crimson. I thought for a second he was having a heart attack or a stroke or something then I realized he was blushing. He looked down at his shoes; his embarrassment had rendered him almost speechless. Finally he muttered, ?Her name is Simone.? ?I must say that you bear a striking resemblance to her. You wouldn?t be related would you?? ?You could say that.? He whispered. He hesitated for several seconds as though struggling with his thoughts ?You see,? he said at last, ?the truth is: it?s me in that video.? ?I suspected as much,? I said, ?and if you don?t mind me saying so you make a very beautiful woman.? ?Thank you," he said. ?The fact is I like to cross-dress; I have this thing about wearing women?s clothes. I always have had. But I only do it here, in the privacy of my apartment. No-one else knows about it.? He paused and looked me in the eye then reached for my hands and held them. ?So now that you know I beg you to keep it to yourself. I?d probably lose my job if my boss knew, he?s such a homophobe. And the shock would probably kill my father if he ever found out.? There were tears in his eyes as he beseeched me to keep his secret. ?Ok,? I said, ?I?ll keep your secret on one condition.? He brightened somewhat and asked, ?What is it?? ?I?d like to meet Simone.? ***** Simon?s life had been a lonely one. His childhood and teenage years had been spent almost entirely on his own with just his mother for company. He had been a loner at school, excluded from the gangs and cliques that boys naturally formed. He hated all forms of sport and was un-inclined to join in with after school activities. He was an easy target for bullies and suffered throughout his school life. Later at university he had kept to himself. People tried to include him but had eventually given up when he made no effort to be sociable. He was content with his own company and that of his beloved mother. His father spent a lot of time away doing he knew not what and whenever he did return to the family home he was aggressive and bullying to young Simon. He constantly berated the boy for being a wimp and a sissy, urging him to be a man and pursue manly sports and pastimes. He tried to engage Simon in country pursuits like fishing and shooting, both of which he detested. His only attempt at horse riding resulted in a broken arm when he fell from the animals back. Simon longed for the time when he went away again and whenever he did it was an occasion of rejoicing for him and his mother. The only other person he took pleasure in seeing was his aging grandmother. Since he was a small boy he had spent his summers with her. She was always welcoming and made special cakes and ice-cream whenever he visited. As he grew older she always had time to listen to his problems and concerns and would advise and reassure him. He loved helping her with chores and would do small repairs about the house. One summer during his second year at university Granny Maud asked him if he would clean out the attic. It had been untouched since his grandfather had died and she thought it was about time it was cleared out. His grandfather had made it his den and had spent many hours in it. She herself had never entered it respecting her husband?s privacy. Simon had never entered it either, and was curious to see what up there. The key was stiff in the old lock and he was surprised that the light bulb still worked when he switched it on. Everything was covered in a layer of dust and bats had made a roost in the apex leaving a pile of droppings on the floor. At one end by a small window stood an ancient roll-top desk with a leather swivelling armchair beside it. Books and papers were stacked everywhere overflowing the shelves and ledges. Cardboard boxes were stacked under the eaves to one side and opposite, covered with an old bed sheet was an extensive model railway layout. He set to work with dust-pan and brush and immediately created a choking cloud of dust; a vacuum cleaner would be a better bet he decided. After an hour?s work he?d gotten rid of most of the dirt and turned his attention to the contents of the room. Most of the stuff was useless rubbish, old newspapers, paperback books, periodicals, magazines and paper invoices. He carried it all downstairs and tossed it on a bonfire. One box however yielded an interesting find. Inside were several copies of a magazine he?d never seen nor heard of. Entitled ?Female Mimics? the magazines contained scores of pages of photographs and articles. He flicked through the pages, his hands trembling with mounting excitement. He stared open mouthed at the pictures of men dressing in women?s clothing and posing in scanty lingerie. This was a revelation to Simon. He had never dreamed that men would want to wear girl?s clothes but the more he looked the more excited he became with the idea. All of the men were really beautiful and totally convincing as females. He was agog at a picture of a guy sporting what looked like real breasts. How could these men turn themselves into such ravishing creatures he wondered? Just then his grandma called him for lunch. As he set the magazine aside and stood up his erection forced the front of his pants out in an obscene bulge. He hadn?t realized he cock was stiff so he hurriedly re- arranged himself so that his hard-on wouldn?t be too obvious. That evening he lay in bed with a few of the magazines studying the photographs. He slowly masturbated as he imagined what it would be like to wear lacy panties and bras and he marvelled at how feminine looking the men in the pictures appeared. His climax when it came was spectacular. He couldn?t remember coming so intensely or as copiously before. The next day turned up another exciting find. In a box lay a pair of shoes. Black patent leather strappy sandals with a four inch stiletto heel. They were the most beautiful shoes he?d ever seen. He held them almost reverently, examining them from every angle. They appeared to be little worn as the soles still had that new leather look. Simon had an irresistible urge to try them on. Locking the door he quickly discarded his trainers and socks and slid his feet into the shoes. He was delighted that they fit so well He bent and carefully fastened the tiny buckles on the ankle straps then stood. He was surprised at how his centre of gravity changed, and at the tension put on his calf and thigh muscles. Holding onto the desk he took his first tentative steps in ladies high heeled shoes. And he loved it. He still owned those shoes. Even five years later he still loved to wear that first pair of heels. He kept them hidden in Grandma Maud?s attic along with the other items of feminine wear he gradually accumulated; the panties, the bras and a skirt and top. He bought his first pair of stockings from a supermarket on a busy Saturday casually throwing them into his basket along with the bottle of Coke, a packet of chocolate biscuits and a few other things he didn?t really want. He graduated with a degree in computer science and got a job with an up- and-coming software developer and spent his days writing code. In the evenings and weekends he studied make-up techniques and practiced walking in heels. He spent hours perfecting how to sit and stand and other feminine mannerisms. The ?Female Mimics? magazines, which he removed for Grandma Maud?s along with the shoes and clothes he?d acquired, were over thirty years old, but were still a great guide in how to dress and change his shape. With his first lap-top and an internet connection he discovered hundreds of web sites devoted to transvestites and cross-dressers. Now that he had his own apartment and there was no risk of his mother accidently opening his mail he began buying stuff on-line. He bought himself a video camera and set it up so that he could film himself. He watched the recordings with a critical eye, always looking for ways to improve his appearance. And then he went and lost the stupid thing. Luckily the only recording on it was the most recent one he?d made, in which he had modelled his latest purchases; the black lace panties and full length negligee. The half a dozen others he?d down loaded onto his computer, ones which depicted him dressed in lingerie and masturbating to a climax. His special favourite he?d filmed in his bathroom sitting on the counter top. He?d worn a white blouse with a red skirt, a white lace bra and fully fashioned stocking. He had come so much during that session. Everything was going so well until Mr. Sam Ferguson had come knocking at his door. Why had he admitted that the girl in the film was him? He could have said he?d down-loaded it from the net. But if he was honest with himself, he was sort of relieved that someone else knew his secret. He had recently been seriously considering venturing out dressed. He knew there were several gay and transvestite friendly clubs in the town but he hadn?t yet plucked up the courage to go on his own. So, if he was going to come out, Sam seemed a nice enough guy to come out to. He was kind of cute (did he just say that), in his mid thirties, a full head of neatly cut hair, a little taller than Simon and nicely dressed. With butterflies in his tummy Simon set about turning himself into Simone. ***** I couldn?t believe it when he?d nodded and said Ok I could meet Simone. ?When?? I?d asked. ?Why not this evening,? he said, ?say about seven.? I showered and shaved twice. Applied a liberal amount of Lynx body spray and dressed carefully in my new shirt and chinos. I was ready to go by five. I sat, stood, sat and paced about my flat like a teenager on his first date constantly checking the time. In truth it could be my first date. I had never been successful with women; in fact I was still a virgin. A thirty five year old virgin. How sad was that I thought? I had gone out with girls when I was younger but there had never been a second date. In the end I stopped asking so saving myself the needless embarrassment of being refused. I satisfied my needs with my five- fingered friend. I went through the rigmarole of ringing his bell, announcing myself, entering and taking the elevator to the eighth floor. I knocked at his door and waited. I found I was holding my breath so I exhaled slowly calming myself. The door opened and there he (or should I say she) stood. I was overwhelmed. He looked sensational. He wore a Laura Ashley print cotton dress; black with tiny white polka dots. The neckline was square cut low across his chest revealing a deep cleavage and his waist was encircled with a thin belt. On his bare shoulders he wore a short sleeved bolero jacket and round his neck hung a gold chain with a vee- shaped diamond cluster. Diamond earrings hung from his lobes. His legs were sheathed in flesh coloured nylons and on his feet were black open toed court shoes. The four inch heel gave him a greater height than me. His shoulder length hair framed his face and a fringe concealed his forehead. The ends were flicked up all round and blond streaks highlighted the cut. His unblemished skin was lightly covered with a soft bronze face powder with dabs of pink blusher on his cheeks. Dark eye shadow and mascara accentuated his blue eyes and his lips glistened with pale pink lipstick. ?Hi Sam,? he breathed in a voice an octave higher than normal. ?Come in.? I closed my mouth which was hanging open and stepped across the threshold. ?Wow.? I finally managed to say. ?You look amazing. Here, I?ve brought you some flowers.? I handed him the small posy of red roses I?d bought on my way over. I?d almost forgotten I held them so distracted was I by his appearance. ?Thank you," he said. ?Would you like a drink? Please sit down and make yourself comfortable. I must put these in some water.? ?A beer would be nice, if you had one?? I couldn?t take my eyes off him as he turned and walked from the room into his kitchen. I followed him marvelling at the sway of his hips and the confidence of his walk. He found a vase for the flowers then stooped and opened his ?fridge and extracted two bottles of Heineken. Handing one to me he said. ?Well, what do you think?? He did a twirl spinning the hem of his dress outwards and exposing his thighs. I caught a glimpse of the darker band that topped his stockings. ?I think you look sensational. You looked great in the video but in the flesh you?re breathtaking. You are quite beautiful.? ?My word. Such compliments, you?re making me blush. Come and sit down and let?s talk.? And talk we did. He sat primly on the edge of the sofa with his knees together taking occasional sips of beer and I sat opposite in a low armchair. We talked about our lives in general; what we had done in the past and what we hoped to do the future. By the second bottle we were talking as though we had been friend all our lives. The conversation finally got on to more personal matters and I asked him, ?Why do you dress as a woman, do you want a sex change?? ?Good Lord no,? he said. ?I like being a man, but I also love to wear women?s clothes, especially soft feminine things. I would dress all the time if I could, but my boss would fire me on the spot if I turned up for work looking like this. He is such an alpha male.? ?Are you gay?? I next asked him. He didn?t answer immediately, giving the question a lot of thought. ?I?m not sure.? He finally said. ?When I?m dressed as a woman and I see a handsome man I think, wouldn?t it be wonderful to be held and kissed and made love to by him. But I also like looking at girls.? ?You?re bi-sexual then?? ?I don?t know.? He paused again, looking at the bottle he held as if divining some insight from it. ?I?ve never done it with either so I?m not sure.? I decided to drop the subject of his sexuality for the time being and said, ?Would you like to go for a walk? It?s a lovely evening and we can stroll along the prom.? ?Yes, that would be nice. Give me half an hour to change back into guy stuff.? ?No way,? I said. ?I want to take a beautiful girl out for a walk not another man.? ?But I?ve never been out of this apartment dressed.? He protested. ?What if someone guessed I was a man in drag? What if I meet someone I know?? ?No one will ever guess you are anything but a woman and a gorgeous one at that. Besides it?s nearly dark so you will be quite safe.? ?Well Ok then, I?ve often wanted to been seen in public, but I?ve never had the bottle to do it on my own.? He collected his purse; checked the contents and dropped his keys in. ?Let?s go then," he said. The cold of a few days ago had been replaced by warm ?Indian Summer? weather. The setting sun bathed the sea in gold and reds. We walked toward the pier and were soon among the many other people enjoying the last of the evening. Instinctively Simon took my arm and snuggled close. He walked with confidence his steel tipped heels striking the pavement with a solid ring that echoed from the nearby buildings. We walked for half an hour before he said he needed to sit. He hadn?t walked so far in high heels and his feet were beginning to hurt. We were near The Lanes Hotel so I headed for it. ?I can?t go in there," he said with a note of panic in his voice. ?Of course you can. Come on.? Keeping a firm grip on his arm we marched into the hotel foyer and turned into the Noel Coward lounge, so named after the famous actor and playwright who had been a resident at one time. We found a table and sat. Simon insisted on sitting with his back to the room and I didn?t object. A waiter appeared and I ordered a gin and tonic for Simon and a whisky for myself. We sipped our drinks and Simon had begun to relax when the worst thing happened. A colleague from work spotted me and headed over. ?Sam, how are you. Didn?t expect to see you in here.? He was very loud and slightly the worst for drink. ?And who?s this lovely beauty. My you?re a dark horse Sam. Ya kept this one quiet.? ?Hello Maurice. This is Simone Nuffield, a very good friend of mine. Simone this is Maurice Massey.? Simon held his hand out, but Maurice bent over and kissed his cheek. ?Charmed, I?m sure,? he slurred. ?We?re having a few drinks and then going on to a club. Why don?t you both join us?? I looked at Simon who was frantically shaking his head. ?I don?t think so, Maurice. It?s getting late and we should be going home.? ?Nonsense," he said. ?It?s only ten o?clock.? He turned and called across the room. ?Hey Cathy, Ron, come over here and see who I?ve found.? Three people detached themselves from the crowd and walked over. There were ?Hi Sam?s? all round. ?Well, Sam introduce us to your lovely girlfriend?? I cursed myself for coming into this hotel. We should have gone back to Simon?s apartment and avoided this embarrassment, but it was too late now. ?Yes, of course,? I said, ?Simone this is Cathy, Maurice?s wife and this is Ron and Mandy Case.? They all greeted him with handshakes and air kisses. ?Let me get another round; G & T and whisky right?? Ron said and headed for the bar. The remainder of the group pulled up chairs and sat. I looked at Simon and was surprised to see him smiling and appearing to be quite relaxed. He half turned and began talking to the women. I was amazed that he seemed far more comfortable than I did. Obviously the two beers and the gin had lowered his inhibitions. After a while I was again surprised when Simon and Mandy left for the bathroom together. I hoped he knew what he was doing. On his return I raised a quizzical eyebrow and he gave me a wink. ?Well what do you say, you two. Want to go to a club and dance the night away?? I was gobsmacked when Simon declared that he?d love to. ?Ok then. Drink up and lets hit the town.? Maurice, who had taken charge shouted. Out on the street following the other four I asked Simon. ?Are you Ok with this?? ?Oh yes,? he said, ?I?ve wanted to do this for ages but never had the courage.? ?Aren?t you worried about being found out?? ?Mandy read me straight away, but the others have no idea.? ?What!? ?Yeah, when we went to the loo she asked me straight out was I a fella. I said I was and she said it was so exciting being able to fool everyone and that I looked so good. She said she wouldn?t let on.? ?That?s great,? I said. ?But what must she think of me?? ?Don?t be such an old stick-in-the-mud, enjoy yourself. Let?s have fun.? And so we did. We managed to secure a table close to the dance floor and ordered more drinks. We were obliged to sit through twenty minutes of a stand-up comedian?s routine and listen to his excruciating jokes, and then the DJ began playing music. I saw Maurice about to asked Simon to dance but I forestalled him and took Simon into the crowd of other jivers. We danced the entire set and I was getting breathless when the DJ mercifully announced a slow set. I took Simon in my arms and we smooched. Holding his soft pliant body close to me I forget he was a man. He laid his head on my shoulder and I held him round his waist and we swayed against each other. After a few minutes with his warm exciting body pressing against me I soon had an erection. I pushed my hips against him and he responded in the same way and I suddenly realized the he also had a hard-on. I could feel his stiff penis rubbing against my own and I jumped backward away from him. ?What?s the matter honey?? he crooned into my ear. ?Don?t you like what you feel?? ?But it?s not right,? I protested. ?What?s not right? You obviously like me and I like you; so what?s not to like?? I good point, I thought. As the music ended Simon said, ?Let?s get out of here, my feet are killing me, and the noise is hurting my ears.? We said our goodbye?s to the others and made our exit despite their entreaties to stay. Taxis were parked outside and we got into the first in the line. Simon gave the driver his address and we settled back for the short ride. He took my hand, gave it a squeeze then placed it onto his lap. I was shocked to feel his erection through his dress and panties standing proud. I turned to face him my mouth open in surprise at his forwardness, and before I could react he kissed me full on the lips. Any resistance I might have had up to then disappeared as I melted into the tender kiss. His lips were soft and hot; his moist tongue insinuated its way into my mouth and danced around, probing and searching. We did not break our embrace until the taxi stopped and the driver coughed discreetly. I paid the fare then followed Simon into the building. We kissed again as the elevator took us upward only parting when the door hissed open. Once inside I held him by his upper arms and said, ?Hold on a minute, Simon. I think we should talk about this before it goes any further.? ?What?s to talk about?? he said. ?By the hardness of your cock you clearly have feelings for me, and I certainly do for you. Let?s just have a bit of fun and leave it at that.? ?But it?s not right. I?m not gay; at least I don?t think I am. And we?ve only known each other for twenty four hours.? ?Time means nothing, Sam. From the moment you walked in my door I knew I wanted you. Just pretend I?m a female if it will make it easier for you. I want to be your woman; it?s as simple as that. What harm can it do? We?re two consenting adults.? I paused for some moments thinking about what he?d just said. I had believed he was a woman when I first saw the video and I could believe he was one now, so convincing did he look. And there was no denying I desired him. I couldn?t remember ever feeling this way about anyone in the past. I came to a decision. ?Ok,? I said, ?you?re right; what harm can it do? But you?ll have to make allowances for me and help me along; I?ve never done anything like this before.? ?Sit down, Sam; I?ll be back in a minute. Have a glass of wine if you want.? He disappeared from the room. I sat on the couch; I didn?t want any wine. I wondered if I was I doing the right thing. If my work colleagues found out that the girl I?d introduced them to was a transvestite, and that I?d spent the night with him, I could find myself in serious trouble. At the very least I?d be the butt of scorn and cruel jokes, and at the worst I might even lose my job. Any such thought and doubts were dispelled then Simon re-entered the room. He?d change out of the dress and now wore the diaphanous negligee and tiny lace panties he?d worn in the video. He posed before me slowly turning through three hundred and sixty degrees. His pale body was visible through the gossamer material and when he faced me again his large erect cock was prominent in his panties. He held his hand to me and I took it. With a slight pull I rose to my feet and followed him into his bedroom. The only illumination came from the lights of Brighton glowing through the window. Simon slowly undid the buttons on my shirt and pushed it off my shoulder. He showered my neck and chest with light teasing kisses and suckled and nibbled my nipples. His kisses moved downward as he sank to his knees. He unbuckled my belt and unzipped my chino?s then pulled them and my boxers down to my ankles. I stepped out of them kicking my shoes off as I did so. My cock stood stiffly out and I modestly covered it with my hands but Simon pushed them aside and took my erection in his soft hands. No other person had ever held my penis and the sensation was wonderful. As I stood on trembling legs I felt his hot breath on my skin and then his mouth enclosed the head of my cock. I gasped with pleasure. With his hand on my chest he gently pushed and I sat and then lay back on his bed. Without releasing my cock from his mouth he lay besides me but in the opposite direction in the classic soixante-neuf position. I closed my eyes as I savoured my first experience of fellatio. Slitting them open I was at first perplexed then astonished when I realized what was inches from my face. Protruding from the elasticated waist band of his lace panties was the large purple head of Simon penis. As he continued to suck me deeply into his mouth my hands took on a life of their own. With no conscious thought I reached for his panties and pushed them down releasing his throbbing organ and hairless balls. It was a beautiful thing. I folded my fingers around the hot shaft and for the first time held another man?s cock in my fist. The heat almost burned my hand; the skin was so soft but the hardness beneath was like iron. I gently caressed it, pulling the skin up and down fully exposing the purple head. Simon thrust his hips forward butting the knob against my mouth. Unthinkingly I parted my lips and took the end into my mouth. I heard him groan as he stabbed his prick against the roof of my mouth. Another first I thought as I began sucking and stroking, duplicating his actions. We lay side by side for many minutes each sucking the others cock. I could feel my climax approaching and as Simon?s thrusts became more urgent I guessed he too was nearing his end. Suddenly my mouth was filled with liquid. Taken by surprise I swallowed it, tasting the slightly salty fluid. Every time I gulped a mouthful down more refilled my mouth. I wondered would it ever stop; I was drinking it down like water. These thoughts were forgotten as my own orgasm overtook me. I could feel Simon?s throat working as he too manfully swallowed my discharge. I continued to erupt for several moments shooting load after load into his mouth. Finally we both stopped coming and lay for some time gently suckling and licking our softening organs. Simon withdrew his cock and turned around so that we were again face to face. He took my face between his hands and kissed me tenderly. His tongue slithered into my mouth and I sucked it as I?d done to his cock. I tasted cum that was slightly different from what I?d tasted when he?d ejaculated and I realized I was sampling my own spunk. Eventually breaking apart he asked, ?Did you like that?? ?Yes, I loved it,? I said. ?It was a whole new experience for me; I?ve never been sucked nor given a blow job before.? ?Mmm I loved it too.? ?Simon, I mean Simone, I have to go. It?s late and I have to work in the morning,? I said, with some reluctance. ?Can I see you again?? ?Yes. Come tomorrow evening and I?ll cook something for you. And Sam, will you bring me a present?? ***** I left him soon after promising to visit again the next night. Walking back to my apartment I relived the evening. I could not believe what had happened. I had sucked a man?s cock and he had sucked mine. And I had loved every moment of it. As I walked home in the cold night air I thought of his soft body and the hot lips that I?d kissed with such passion, I thought of his beautiful hard penis that I?d fondled and felt in my mouth. I remembered the taste of his spunk as it had filled my mouth and that I?d eagerly swallowed. I couldn?t wait to see my captivating Simone again. Next day I found it hard to concentrate on my work. My thoughts were occupied with visions of Simon Nuffield in his divine, sexy lingerie and his gorgeous cock. I was barely aware of the succession of things arriving at my window, things that people had carelessly left on buses and taxis. The umbrellas, handbags, cameras, spectacles and mobile phones I automatically logged into the big ledger, labelled and stored on appropriate racks. Parking a bicycle that someone had left on a bus (how could someone do that?) I spotted an H&M bag in a section with other shopping bags. I remembered this particular bag being handed in some months ago because it contained two expensive dresses and a blouse that a woman had bought, then lost and not bothered to look for. They were destined for the next auction of things that had been held for six months and were still unclaimed. I removed a dress from the bag and held it against my body and was sure it would fit him. Replacing it in the bag I put it into the duffle bag that I brought my sandwiches and Thermos flask to work in. At five o?clock I spun the combination dial on the safe, checked everything was in order and left locking the door behind me. With my duffle on my back I walked the two kilometres to my apartment and began my preparations for my night with Simon. ***** At seven o?clock he opened his door to my ring and I gasped in amazement at his appearance. He was wearing a pleated red skirt with a wide black belt, a white blouse through which his white lacy bra was visible, tan stockings and four inch heeled sandals. His shoulder length hair fell in waves around his face and crystal clusters hung from his ears. A red velvet choker encircled his neck also with a large crystal, and around his wrist was a crystal bracelet. His expertly applied makeup was subtle and natural but he?d painted his lips a vibrant red to match the colour of his skirt and choker. ?My God,? I exclaimed, ?you look incredible.? ?Thank you, I?m glad you like it.? He did a quick spin on one foot, his other leg raised behind him. ?Come in,? he said ?would you like a drink? I?ve made a cocktail.? ?Yes thanks, that?d be great.? I followed him into his lounge unable to take my eyes off his hips and butt as he swayed and sashayed ahead of me. I sat in a low armchair and he brought me a stemmed glass containing some clear liquid and a cherry. I took a sip and almost chocked. Whatever was in the cocktail was very powerful. I placed the glass on a side table and said, ?I?ve brought you a present.? He took the carrier bag I held out and peered into it. ?Aitch and Em? he said, ?how nice, they?re one of my favourite shops.?He withdrew the contents and squealed with delight holding the dress against his body. ?I hope it fits,? I said. ?I?m afraid I?ve lost the receipt so you won?t be able to change it if it doesn?t? I wasn?t about to tell him where it had really come from. The other dress and blouse I?d left at home; presents for another day. He promptly disappeared into his bed room and five minutes later reappeared wearing it. ?It?s a perfect fit, how did you know my size?? ?A lucky guess.? The dress was pale blue with white polka dots. It had wide black straps over his naked shoulders, a black sash around the waist and black flaps above the bust. A row of black button ran down the front to the waist. He twirled around again flaring the skirt of the dress out and giving me a tantalizing glimpse of his stocking tops. ?I love it,? he gushed. ?Let me give you a kiss.? He pulled me to my feet and planted a kiss on my lips. After a moment his arms reached up and circled my neck and his kiss became deep and passionate. My arm went around his waist and I pulled him close to me grinding my hardening cock against his groin. He squirmed and pushed his hips against mine and I could feel that his cock was hard as well. He drew back breaking our kiss and breathed, ?Later, lover. Let?s eat first.? He?d cooked a spaghetti bolognaise which was excellent with hot garlic bread. We giggled like children as we noisily sucked up the long strands of spaghetti, and the bottle of Chardonnay we drank with it made us both tipsy. Later we sat together on the couch and kissed and my hand slid slowly up under his skirt, passed the top of his stocking and the bare area of skin above and onto his silk pantied crutch. His cock was rock hard and I gripped it tightly, rubbing its length through the flimsy material. He groaned into my mouth as our lips ground together. He fumbled at my zip pulling it down and insinuating his hand into my fly. His fingers curled around my shaft and his thumb rubbed small circles around the top of the head. I was in bliss. When I used my own hand it never felt as exciting as his did right now, his soft warm fingers were driving me to distraction. Suddenly he withdrew his hand from my aching cock and stood up. ?Come on,? he said. He held my hand and led me to his bedroom. Inside he quickly undressed me then turned his back to me and whispered ?Unzip me.? I did and slid the straps off his shoulders and the dress fell to his feet. He reached behind his back to unhook his bra but I stopped him. ?Leave your undies on,? I said. ?You?re so much sexier in them.? We lay on the bed, me naked and Simon in his lingerie and kissed again. Our rampant penis?s ground together as we writhed like snakes. ?Sam I want you to fuck me.? He moaned, when we broke apart. He lay on his back and I unhurriedly pulled his panties off; delighting in the act of undressing my lover. ?What about some lubrication?? I asked. ?Use your tongue.? Without hesitation I put my head between his legs and prised his buttocks apart, then thrust my tongue into his tight, sweet hole. A thought raced through my mind that twenty four hours ago I would have been appalled and revolted by such an act but now I couldn?t get enough of it. I reamed and tongue fucked his anus savouring the heady aroma and agreeable taste of his silky-smooth orifice. As I wallowed in his glorious bum hole I reached round and seized his cock which was hard and stiff and pointing to the ceiling. I squeezed and pumped his wonderful organ till I felt him pulling at my hair. I stopped slobbering his rosette and crawled up his body till I lay full length on him. ?Do me now, Sam. Fuck me hard.? I wriggled my hips around until my bell-end prodded his wrinkled opening. My saliva eased the entry but it was still incredibly tight until his sphincter relaxed enough for my cock slide into him. I slowly sank down only stopping when I could go no further. I?d never felt anything so amazing, it was mind-blowing. His hot tight rectum gripped my shaft and my whole being was centred in my penis. The world could have ended at that moment and I would have died content. Slowly I began to draw back my cock sliding out of his arse till only the head remained inside, then I dropped down again impaling the beautiful boy once more. I vaguely heard little cries of pleasure coming from him as I began to pound my meat into his willing back passage. The pleasure was so intense that it was impossible to delay my orgasm for very long. Much as I tried to hold back the inevitable it was to no avail. Suddenly my cock exploded and my balls pumped my seed into the lovely soft, hot cavity. I collapsed sweating and panting onto him, my breath rasping in my throat and my lungs burning from the effort. Slowly my cock softened and reluctantly slid from his hot tunnel. I rolled off him onto my back and saw that my stomach was covered in a slippery white substance. He too had come and I was happy he?d shared the pleasure. Gradually my breathing and heart rate returned to normal. I turned my face to his and found his lips. The kiss was soft and gentle, lacking any of the earlier urgency; a tender kiss, a kissed filled with love and promise. ***** Giving him the dress was the beginning of my downfall. Once I began he wanted a present every time I visited. His childlike excitement when I gave him something was totally endearing. He?d clap his hands and squeal with delight, bouncing with happiness. He?d smoother me with wild, mad kisses when I produced the latest offering. His enjoyment at receiving the gifts made it all worthwhile. I gave him all sorts of things I?d plundered from the stock of lost property. Mostly I gave him clothes, but also handbags, purses, scarves and shoes, nearly all of them brand new. At first I was careful to take only the items that were shortly to be auctioned off, but as I got more reckless I started giving him more expensive things; things from the safe. I took watches, rings, brooches, earrings and pieces of jewellery. I knew it was risky stealing from the safe but I thought I?d be able to cover-up the loss with the new stuff that was always coming in. My big mistake came when one of the cleaning ladies handed in a flat square leather box that she had found when cleaning the ladies toilets in the Guildhall. The satin lined box contained a magnificent sapphire and diamond necklace, matching pendent earrings and a brooch. I couldn?t resist taking it. I knew that something as valuable as this wouldn?t go unclaimed and that it was far too risky but the thought of Simon?s reaction when he opened the box clouded my judgement. I stashed it in my rucksack. The suite of gems belonged to Lady Henrietta Charmers who had worn them when she?d attended The Lord Mayor?s banquet. The Mayor had hosted the banquet to honour a visiting Head of State. It was also attended by a junior member of the Royal Family. It was several days before Lady Charmers realized that the gems were missing; not until she went to return them to the family strongbox in fact. Because she was afraid to wear them out in public, she?d removed them in the washroom before going home and thought that she?d put them into her purse. On discovering their loss she immediately phoned the Chief Constable of East Sussex, who happened to be a personal friend of hers. He in turn telephoned the Chief Superintendent in charge of the Brighton and Hove Constabulary, who ordered his Detective Chief Inspector to find them. The DCI then detailed Detective Sergeant Allis to investigate the case. DS Allis, a seasoned copper with thirty years experience, interviewed the cleaning lady who had found the jewels. She explained that the correct procedure when an employee finds anything, valuable or not, was to hand them in to the lost property office, which she had done. The detective?s next move was to visit LP office which he did arriving when I was temporarily away from my station. He never-the-less examined the log book which was open on my desk, and saw that a box answering the description was entered as having been handed in. I should not have logged the gems, of course, if I intended to steal them; a stupid mistake. When I returned he flashed his warrant card and demanded that I open the safe and hand over the box. Knowing, of course that it wasn?t in the safe I made a big show of surprise when I opened the door and discovered its absence. Someone must have stolen it when I was away from my post I declared. DS Allis was not a fool and he was unimpressed by my little charade. He ordered me to sit and not move while he began to search. It wasn?t long before he discovered that many other items I?d entered into the log were also missing. Eventually he spotted my duffle bag. ?Is that yours?? he enquired. I nodded affirmatively. ?Would you please empty it?? And, surprise surprise there were the missing jewels. I was arrested and conducted to Brighton police station where I confessed to the theft of Lady Charmer?s jewellery as well as the many other items. When questioned as to their present whereabouts I said that I?d sold them to a man whose name I didn?t know in order to finance my gambling addiction. My story was believed, or rather could not be disproved. I don?t think it was investigated too thoroughly, I?d confessed and they had recovered Lady Charmer?s property which was all they wanted. But I had not implicated my adored Simone who had no idea I was stealing all the things I gave him as presents. I was duly brought before the courts and sentenced to three years imprisonment with one year suspended. Thus I came to be incarcerated in C wing of Winchester Gaol with only the memories of the passionate affair I?d had with my beloved Simone to sustain me. If only I hadn?t found that cam-corder. The End As always comments and criticisms are welcome, either on the site or to me at [email protected]