Alexandra's Tale free porn video

Let me introduce myself. My name is Phil, except for the times when it is Alexandra. And somethimes people call me Lexie, although I do not greatly care for that. My childhood was complicated. My father always encouraged me to get involved in sports and boyish activities, which I did, and generally enjoyed. My mother encouraged me to pursue more girlish interests, and I often got pleasure from those too. My parents support for me was frequently contradictory and whilst neither of them could possibly have not noticed what the other was doing, no words were exchanged about it, at least not in my presence. Even before I reached my teens, I was not naive enough to to think that this was a conventional way to go through childhood. Then, when I was twelve, there was great domestic upheaval when my father passed away of heart failure, completely out of the blue. After this my mother did not stop me participating in sports and such, but her feminine agenda definitely had the upper hand, and clothing that was more overtly girlish was introduced to my wardrobe. She taught me how to apply make-up too and let me grow my hair long enough to tease it into a feminine style when she wanted to. It was at this stage that she started to refer to me as Alexandra, derived from my middle name being Alexander. When I was fifteen, she made an attempt to up the ante and get me to go out with her dressed to look and act as a girl. I was horrified. The first fear was that being an only child, if anyone saw me with her, they could not fail to work out who the girl really was. For emphasis, I pointed out to her, with complete accuracy, that when dressed as a girl I just looked completely like what a twin sister for me would do. This was the point when I was truly shocked, as my normally brusque, business-like and efficient mother responded by bursting into floods of tears. Obviously my reaction was to try and console her, but it took some time. When she had almost composed herself again, she had quite a surprise for me. When I was born, I did have a twin sister, but she died within hours of birth. Apparently her heart never really got working properly. It was fear of me going the same way that had motivated mother to keep my involvement in highly strenuous activity to a minimum, and she was even more concerned after my father's death in apparently similar circumstances. It was also a fear that led them into not having any more children. The twin sister would have been named Alexandra, so that was why I got Alexander as a middle name. My guess is that most kids would have been stunned by the revelation and perhaps a little angry at having the information withheld from them for fifteen years. It did not hit me that way, just leaving me relieved that I had an explanation for how I had been brought up. And although I had never really discussed it with anyone, ever since I could remember I had felt that my life had always had a piece was missing, somewhat like a rowing boat with no oars. Or perhaps one oar. Maybe I just need a better analogy. An owl that twits, but hears no responding twoo. Back to the point, at least now I knew why that feeling had been present. It sounds like a cold reaction to a traumatic situation but like to think of myself as unflappable under pressure and it just is not in my nature for have intense emotions when most other people would do. That helped me carry on as before, being both the son that my mother loved and the daughter that she craved. I also felt oddly obligated to do that for my sister too, so life for the two of us soon went on as it had before. Mother offered to arrange an appointment with a therapist to "resolve my issues" but it took little time to convince her that I did not have any that needed resolutions. Which brings us to the present day, four years on. I was having a gap year before going to university but instead of travelling I had got a job, so still lived at home. On this particular day mother wanted to have lunch in the marina restaurant, which was a very pleasant place to watch the world go by. I hopped down the stairs ready to go - deck shoes, shorts, polo shirt and a jumper draped over my shoulders. All very nautical. Mother looked at me disapprovingly. "We are meeting Mrs Ross and Michelle, so this is one for Alexandra," she explained. This was not good news. I was never sure from where Mrs Ross had emerged as one of mother's friends, but her presence at this lunch meeting was going to be very hard work. Her daughter Michelle, who was a couple of years older than me, had been due to get married, but the groom dropped out at short notice. I had only heard one side of the story, and it sounded as if he had always been doubtful and should have voiced his concerns much earlier. Michelle had slumped into a state of depression by events, and rather withdrawn from all of her social circles. Having never met me as Phil, Mrs Ross had then decided that Alexandra would be a nice new friend for Michelle. Initially the lack of conversation had been excruciating, but Michelle was slowly opening up, which was a small victory for her mother's plan. My worry was how long it would be before I did or said something totally counter productive. I was at least aware enough to nkow that things that I could shrug off were capable of driving other people absolutely batty. It did not take long to transform into Alexandra, as I only had a small range of clothes to choose from. Plenty of practice had made me quite quick at putting on make-up and as a clear polish made my nails look neat, I did not bother to put any colour on them. Arrange my hair into a suitably random lookng but highly organised style, add a simple white bra and knickers, topped off with a pale green flower print cotton dress, tan tights and a pair of mid-heeled brown ankle boots. I was ready to go in plenty of time. On that day, Michelle was far more chatty and active than I had ever known her, and when I passed comment she admitted that she had snapped out of the depression and realised that it was time for life to go on. It made the entire lunch session far more pleasant and not the hard work it had been in the past. When it was time to leave, Michelle hung back. "Walk with me, Lexie," she instructed. I did as she asked. When a suitable gap had developed between us and our mothers, she explained why. "Lexie, I need you to help me kill Paul." "Paul, your ex?" I clarified, knowing who she meant but wanting more time to process the request. "Yes, him." "All things considered, I have to decline." "I thought you were my friend, Lexie." "I am. And that is why I am not simply going to tell you it is a crazy idea. Firstly it is response disproportionate to the crime and secondly, who do you think would be the prime suspect?" As absurd as her request was, she seemed deadly serious, so I decided to appear to be just as business-like, but sensible in how I reacted. "But I cannot just let him get away with it," she snapped in exasperation. There was a brief silence while I thought on it. "So you just do unto him what he did to you." "You mean set him up with a girl, who then dumps him at the altar?" I nodded. She pondered on the option then smiled. "It does sound like a fair retribution. The problem is that he knows all of my friends, not many of whom are single, and would probably suspect something. I am not paying for a prostitute's time over a possibly long period. So that leaves you." "There is a problem there..." I began. "Yes, Lexie. You are a boy, I have worked that out, even if my dozy, self absorbed mother cannot see beyond the end of her nose." "Ohh..." "Don't worry, most people would not notice without close scrutiny. And you have been very sweet to me since we met, so I won't drop you in trouble anywhere." Michelle put a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "No trouble, apart from wanting me to kill your ex-fiance, or mentally torture him?" "Yes, apart from that. But what about you as honey trap?" "The problem remains - how on earth would I take Paul that far without being subject to, as you say, close scrutiny?" "Paul is not the most alert or observant person, he takes things at face value. If he was told that you are a girl, I think you could fool him. And if you played the "no sex before marriage" angle, he is unpushy enough to tolerate that." "Next issue. I only have a couple of dresses, a couple of skirts, a c ouple of tops. There is no way I could sustain a relationship on such a small wardrobe." "That is good," Michelle replied, "because you are already thinking about how this could happen on a practical basis. I can help you there." "Your clothes would never fit me." "No, but I can buy you more of everything that you need. Or rather mummy can. Let's face it, Lexie, you're cheaper than good looking hooker," Michelle almost laughed. "I need to think about it. Give me a call tomorrow. We need to have a proper plan." "Thank you for considering it. Now, tell me how Lexie came about." ---------- Three days later I stood in a coffee shop queue right behind Paul. Michelle had told me that it was his favourite lunch stop, so the plan was to bump into him by intenional coincidence there. Running in heels was not something that I had worked on, so getting from the car to immediately behind him in the queue to order was quite tricky. Heroically, I managed to do it. He bought his lunch and as he turned I managed to "accidentally" step into his way. He did brush against me but thankfully avoided spilling his coffee on the new cream blouse that MIchelle had given me as part of my office worker "uniform." "Oh Christ, I am so sorry," Paul apologised. I made an act of brushing myself down and checked my clothes. "No harm done," I smiled. There was a pause. "Aren't you Paul?" "Yessss," he answered very guardedly, "Do I know you?" "We met once. At Michelle's twenty-first birthday bash. My name is Alexandra. Sorry to hear that you guys split up by the way." He still looked a bit puzzled, but he was intrigued too. "Would you like to have a chat over lunch? It is a bit busy in here, but they saved me a table because I come in here a lot." The hints being dropped suggested that the plan was working. I ordered a small salad and a coffee, then went to his table. "I was at only Michelle's do because our mums are friends. I don't know her all that well - she is a little older than me," I explained. "Yeah, I must admit that I do not really remember you." "We were introduced, but I was a little shy. There was nobody there really of my age and I after I arrived I decided that I hated my choice of dress to wear. A fussy purple thing." All this was as per the script worked out with Michelle. "That slightly rings a bell," Paul encouragingly lied. Or did I really have that power of suggestion in my voice. Science may never know. "What suddenly brought you in here?" he asked. "I work for the water company. A couple of days a week I have to pop out and collect the water quality samples and readings from a few local sites. Got that job because I am the new girl in the office. I just fancied a coffee on the way, but I was going to get a take away." I beamed sweetly at him. The bit about working for the water company was the first true thing that I had said in the conversation, but my ability to lie convincingly was greater than I expected. Michelle had trained me quite intensely on that. "Can't they collect it with an online connection?" "Probably, but it is nice to get out of the office on Tuesdays and Thursdays." "So might you pop in here regularly, at this time?" "Yes, I might well do that. Anyway, it was nice to meet you again Paul." "It was nice to meet you again, Alexandra." He stood up as I left, which seemed unusually polite. As I left I was forced by queues into squeezing tightly in a narrow gap between tables, rather than take the longer, easy way out. With a tight black skirt and black heels on, I made a point of breathing in. Michelle had been certain that it was an outft that Paul would admire, so I glanced back to see whether his eyes were following me. That had happened, so I gave him what I thought was a saucy/cute departing grin. Not being experienced in these things, I was not certain that it really came across that way, but dared not look back to find out. The meeting with Paul left me a little conflicted. Apart from the white lie about eventually remembering me after some clues, he had come across as a perfectly pleasant person. It reinforced the idea that the story from Michelle's side had created a biased impression. That evening I phoned Michelle and described the encounter. She was certain that our quarry had taken the bait. I suggested that quarry tends to run away and bait was for catching fish or other unwary predators. She was unnecessarily rude about my pedantic attitue, but agreed that the code word for Paul could be Trout. If I could get that concession, perhaps I would one day stop her calling me Lexie. --------- The following week I happened to be in the coffee shop when Paul arrived. I was on the phone to Michelle so had to cut her off by telling her that the trout was in the river. If anyone on an adjoining table was eavesdropping on our conversation, they deserved all the confusion that they got. I beckoned Paul over to share the table. From there it was all small talk and a pleasant way to spend an hour. At one stage I thought he was about to invite me on a date, but seemed to change his mind in mid- sentence. Michelle's chosen outfit for me this time was a lilac blouse borrowed from her mother and a brown skirt that was slightly shorter than the one worn before. As per Michelle's recommendation, I ensured that Paul got a good eyeful of leg before I made my exit. That afternoon I planned to meet up with Michelle to discuss progress. "You were spot on," I told her, "he nearly asked me out, but then seemed to have second thoughts. So I did what you said to remind him that he needed to make a move next time." "He was like that with me originally. Be ready next time." Michelle replied. "The trouble is, well, he does not seem like a bad person." Michelle looked at me sternly, so I added, "Just someone who made a poor decision when the pressure was on. And there is another thing." Michelle raised an eyebrow, so I explained. "Before meeting with you and your Mum, I had never gone out at Alexandra. It has been something different to go out on my own as her, but I am definitely not ready to go out on a date, even with someone you are hinting can be trusted." "Lexie," she signed in exasperation, "I don't know what you would call yourself - T-girl? Femboy? Transvestite? But this is all part of Lexie becoming a complete person." I took a long pause before answering, making a point of staring out of the window as I did, although the sun, passing behind a distant cloud, refused to answer any questions that I had in my mind. "Michelle, I don't consider myself any of thse things. Maybe I am a grief counsellor for me and my mum. Or a social worker. Maybe just someone with a psychological hang up. I don't know." I reminded her of the story of my deceased twin sister and how Alexandra arose after my father's death. Michelle looked more and more horrfied, suggesting that when I first ran through it at the marina, she had not really been listening. That was one of her traits that made me wonder even more if Paul had been giving her on the implending split at an earlier stage. "Oh my god, Lexie, I am so sorry. I thought that dressing as a girl was your hobby or something. I probably should not have dragged you into this." Using the word probably did not do the circumstances justice. "It's OK, I am not going to get all emotional over it. Alexandra is not something that I do for entertainment, and it is certainly not a sexual thing. It just needs to be done, and I don't mind doing it." I kept emphasing the name Alexandra, as opposed to Lexie, but the hint was not landing. Perhaps I needed to make a cue card to hold up when Michelle was speaking. "The plan does not change. We just need to find a girl to replace you and hope that Paul does not start to wonder why attractive women keep accosting him at lunchtime." --------- I took a taxi home. It was not a long ride but I had opportunity to think on what would happen next. I did not have a huge circle of friends, and those I did have had either gone direct to university or were doing some travelling in their gap year. It was easy to keep in touch, but none of them were in town. I had a part time job at the water company for three days per week, and was also on the table waiting roster at a local golf club, which was good for one or two nights a week, occasionally three. So I did have plenty time to kill. Actually, given how Michelle had started on this, that is the wrong phrase. Plenty of time to fill. Perhaps it would be a wild adventure to keep Alexandra in play to help Michelle. The problem would be that if I had to drop out she would be less than pleased, and I lose what small element of the moral high ground that I was clinging on to. Something for me to think over during the night. When I came through the door, I bumped into my Mum coming out of the kitchen. "Another new outfit for Lexie?" she asked. I was still wearing the skirt and blouse combination intended to tempt Paul. "No. A new one for Alexandra. It was Michelle's choice." It got a nod of approval, which was good because I was not in the mood for a debate, but then things took a more awkward turn. "We seem to seeing quite a lot more of Alexandra, all of a sudden. And out and about on her own without me. Is something going on that I should know about?" Faced with such a brutal and withering interrogation, I immediately surrendered. "I am helping Michelle get her own back on Paul," I admitted. "Oh, Lord. Please don't let it be something illegal," Mum replied. "I talked her out of murdering him," I told her with wide-eyed optimism. She gave me a look that made it clear a complete explanation was what she was expecting and my diplomatic achievements were not due any praise. "Now I have to get him to invite Alexandra out, so that she can dump him cruelly." Michelle was expecting it to happen after the engagement stage, but I was fairly certain that I would be bailing out before getting embroiled to that degree, but I left that most controversial element out of the tale for Mum. "Phil, why would she choose you for that? It is bound to go horribly wrong." Reverting to my real name was a sign of stern disapproval. "Because Paul knows all of her female friends and she cannot afford to pay a sex worker to fill the role over an extended period of time." "Oh great," sighed Mum, "My son, who makes for quite a pretty twin sister for himself, is on offer at a cheaper price than a prostitute. I'll need a couple of hours of your time to run through all the ways that this could go wrong." "There isn't going to be anything sexual going on." "There had better not be! Or ideally, this does not happen at all." I looked at my feet and put on my best mournful expression. It did not take a genius to work out that Mum was completely right, but there was a crazy adventure at stake, one even crazier than what Kanye West is doing at this moment (to steal someone else's joke). --------- Next morning, on the way to work, I rang Michelle but there was no answer, so I left the melodramatic message "Alexandra is fishing for trout again." Quite a while later she texted back. "Gr8. U R a good friend, Lexie." I did type "FFS" in reply but changed my mind about sending it. One of the comfort factors in following this plan was that Michelle did have the knack of predicting exactly what Paul would do next, so the chance of being pitched into situations that I was not equipped to handle was as low as possible. It gave the (false) impression that unless she raised a problem, whatever we did would be totally safe. It also increased my concern that Paul might not be the bad guy in this conflict and I had been pressganged into the wrong side. After Michelle correctly predicted that on the third coffee shop encounter Paul would ask Alexandra out to dinner, and to a restaurant that was on her shortlist of two, I was even more comfortable in depending on her for guidance. Michelle was instantly on the case for getting me a suitable outfit for a date, without much input from me, it has to be said. I feared ending up with something badly over the top for just a quick drink and a curry. Instead she acquired a navy blue satin midi skirt and a cute striped linen shirt in a few shades of pink to match with it. It was not something that I would have chosen but I did like the look when I had it on. Paul did offer to pick me up from home, but my self preservation instinct was to say that I would meet him there. I noticed Michelle observing from her car as my taxi pulled up, and did wonder if one of the buttons on my top was concealing a hidden camera or microphone. In hindsight, that injection of paranoia was the first sign that my mission was going to fail, at least from Michelle's point of view. At this moment in time, that was not a consideration, and having paired my new outfit with black semi-opaque tights and heels, I was a bit overly pleased with how I had finalised the outfit. Paul was sitting in the window of the pub where we intended to meet, and once I had spotted him, I stopped and used a shop window as a mirror with which to move an imaginary out of place hair - Michelle's idea, to be used in the pub if not possible before. The evening was a pleasant one of trivial talk, and as it wound down I texted Mum to pick me up. When she had arrived and a I made a move to leave, Paul made a tentative move for a kiss goodnight. I put my forefinger to his lips, then gave him a peck on the cheek. He seemed a little disappointed, but I did mention that I had enjoyed the date and just needed to decide what the next move would be. When I was in the car, I told Mum the truth about what happened, and that also my plan was to let him down gently, and sooner rather than later. She told me that it was the honourable thing to do. All I had to do was break the news to Michelle, which I did not do immediately. --------- A couple of days later, Paul rang me to arrange a second date. I had a couple of nights work at the golf club coming up, so whilst I agreed, it was almost a week before we could get together. This did give me some time to devise a plan. The easy summary was to engineer a situation where Paul would see me as not his type of girl, and Michelle would not blame me for that happening. It was the detail of how this could happen that kept eluding me. Obviously I had to remind myself regularly that there would be a time when my lack of real breasts and presence of a penis was going to become an issue. The little nylon seed bags could cover the first problem as long as my clothes were not too skimpy and the latter could be tucked and hidden under the same circumstances. The next problem when Paul told me that we were off to a local club's karaoke night, so have a song ready. Firstly I had to find something that I could sing without my voice being to much of a giveaway. Secondly, this was not just a lame no-hopers thing - the evening was well known in the area for attracting good singers and after they had started their turn, a good performance could become a big singalong. As a cool place to go, there was a risk of bumping into one of my recent classmates from school, and Alexandra and Phil did not look different enough to pull that off. In fact, as I thought about that, I realised that I had been a little lucky to get away with that scenario so far. As Phil I listened mostly to the current wave of prog rock, most of which was too obscure for a karaoke night, and I was not going to shame myself by launching into some feeble chart pop. Having inherited my Dad's music collection, I was short of inspiration too - for a man I remembered for being laid back and fairly happy through life, he had a LOT of dark music. Expecting no useful answer, I asked Mum in desperation whether she had any ideas and she pleasantly surprised me by first suggesting Blondie. Or if not some Rolling Stones. I liked the idea of singing "Hanging On The Telephone" but "Gimme Shelter" was the dependable choice, or as jolly as any song about impending rape and murder can be. On date night, my plan to ward Paul off was a more striking outfit, of the sort that Michelle said he was not impressed by. I had a short black dress to match with some lace tights, and went down the red lipstick and nail polish route. The image created was the one I was after and I noticed that Paul did let a flicker of non-approval cross his face when we finally got together. Instead of heading directly to the club, he invited me to take a stroll along the riverside. I could have declined with a "what, in these heels?" sort of way, but I could tell he was serious, and the path was paved. After we had gone a short way, he spoke hesitantly. "Listen, Alexandra, I have enjoyed our little get togethers, but, erm, I am not sure that you're, erm, my sort of girl. It's a bad cliche, but we seem more like, erm, friends than people heading into a relationship." I could tell that he was expecting a bad reaction from me. Instead I smiled and hugged him. "Oh, thank God," I replied. He looked at me puzzled, so I continued. "I was thinking along the same lines, just didn't know what words to use." Up to that point I had been the one doing the hugging and he was standing there just a bit dumbfounded. With a touch of awkwardness, he hugged back. The mutual relief at the lack of anger was palpable, which led us to hug a little longer. Eventually we disengaged smiling. After that we coninued the walk along the river, talked some more, filled in some gaps, and generally ensured that we parted on amicable terms. I was feeling quite pleased that this had ended as I planned, even if it turned out to be nothing of my doing. --------- When I broke the news to Michelle that Paul had dumped me, she was extremely disappointed, whereas I had to work hard to appear sympathetic, and also not get drawn in to any wild ideas that she might have under pressure. I had already had one miraculous escape from a foolish situation to have got in (Paul) so I had supreme confidence that I could assure Michelle that Fate was telling us, or specifically Michelle, that murder was not destined to be a factor here. "Oh well, it was worth a try," was her only verbal response. In fact she was so philosophical about the setback that I was suspicious that she had another plot bubbling away. As for me, I had now realised that I ran the risk, however small, of accidentally meetng Paul around town, and looking exactly like his only child ex-girlfriend (short term). That was a problem for Phil but Alexandra had got a couple of new outfits at no cost. It was good that I had this in mind, because Michelle the suggested that she could tell Paul that I had committed suicide as a consequence of his dumping me. When I told her what happened, I might have glossed over the details of how it had been a moment of mutual sighs of relief, so all I could do is explain that I was not prepared to become a hermit in order to carry out her alternative scheme. Needless to say I did run into Paul sooner rather than later, because Fate usually hates human beings and the manner of the split with Paul had used up all my credit with it. Actually it was a case of almost ran into him. I was in Wilko in the town centre. For those who do not know the British chain store Wilko, it is a panoply of delights for people who feel a sudden need to buy for example a print of a leprachaun, some tins of dog food and a teapot. Anyone who claims never to to have been in that situation is being dishonest with themself. I was in Wilko in the town centre and turned an aisle corner only to see Paul further down that aisle. I retreated back where I came from and decided to wait until he had left before going to the check out. My attempts to spy on his movements must have looked odd, because a member of staff asked me if I was OK. Using the skill for spontaeously developing plausible lies that Michelle had instilled in me, I explained that I was avoiding my sister's recent ex-fiance, because I did not want to get stuck in an awkward conversation. The lady who had checked on me was sympathetic and actually let me know when Paul had paid and left, whilst I browsed unconvincingly around one end of the shop. A loyal Wilko customer for life, that's me! My solution was quite drastic - a haircut. There are now two versions of Alexandra. At home she is still blonde, but the hair is short enough to wear a longer brunette wig if out and about, which is not all that common. Now I just need Fate to be nice and never drop me badly in at the deep end with something that I cannot handle. But as I said earlier, I think I can cope with most things Fate may land me with. Even Michelle.