Archive-name: Changes/bobbi.txt
Archive-author: Anonymous
Archive-title: Bobbi - New Girl in Town

* parts 1 thru 14 plus epilogue *

(Note: the original author of these stories prefers to remain anonymous)


Margo sat next to me in the coffee shop late that Saturday afternoon.
His real name was Mark, but he was one of the loveliest Drag Queens in
New York City.  I had been dressing secretly at home in my mother's and
sister's clothes for just over three years, but at 18 years old, I had
never been in public as a woman.  Margo lived now as a female, and
could pass anywhere.  I complimented "her" on it, and "she" said.  "You
could do just as well, you know." I was flattered, but not as sure as
she was.  "Come on," she said.  "I'll show you!" We went to her apar-
tment.  We had been occasional lovers, so I had been there before, but
this visit would be different.

As soon as we were inside, Margo ordered me to strip completely, and
she put my male clothing neatly away.  She looked me over carefully,
then stripped off all he own clothing, and led me into the bathroom.

In a moment we were in the shower soaping each other down.  I loved the
softness of Margo's skin, and the feel of her hands on mine.  The sight
and feel of her little penis, for Margo had only four inches even when
she was hard, was also somehow erotic, and I was getting visibly arou-
sed!

We were rinsing off when she said.  "Stand there, and don't move!" She
stepped out of the tub, and returned instantly bearing a razor and sh-
aving cream.  In seconds the lower half of my body was swathed in shav-
ing cream, and Margo was shaving my legs.  She also trimmed my pubic
hair to a little, feminine, V-shaped thatch.

With all the gentle caressing and stroking that was going on, my cock
was now rock hard!  Margo looked up at me from her kneeling position,
and smiled at me.  Then I felt her lips close around my cock, and a
gentle back and forth motion of her head begin.  I leaned back against
the tile wall, and soon was gushing my load of cum down her throat.
Margo swallowed every drop.  She was an expert cocksucker!

"The transformation is about to begin!," announced Margo as we stepped
from the tub.  As soon as we had dried ourselves, she produced a bottle
of cologne and some matching perfumed talc, and applied them liberally
to both of us.  The sent was exotic, and I began to feel very feminine
in the way that I had always wanted to feel.  We entered the bedroom,
and Margo reached into a drawer.  She took out a matching bra, garter-
belt, and panties set for me.  They were white lace with dainty pink
bows.  "Virgins always wear white," she said.  She also had a similar
set in aqua for herself.

We dressed together, and she showed me how to put the panties on over
the garter-belt so that they could be removed, and still leave the
stockings on.  Margo also taught me how to tuck my penis back between
my legs into my crotch, so that no telltale bulges would show even if
someone were to see me in just my panties.

Last to go on was my bra.  It was padded, and I had sort of smallish
male breasts, but we tucked a couple of old stockings into each cup to
fill it out a little better.  I wanted bigger breasts, but Margo would
not allow it.  "All the new girls think that they need big tits!," she
admonished.  "A 'real girl' is not that big!  If you want to look nat-
ural, do it subtly.  Don't make yourself look like a clown!"  She was,
of course, correct.  I followed her advice, and I am a better woman for
it.  To complete the effect, Margo gave me a light-brown wig that near-
ly matched my own hair, and fussed it into place on my head.

I was not prepared for what I saw when I looked in the full-length mir-
ror.  There staring back at me was the girl I had always known I was!
I shuddered, and Margo lightly touched my arm.  "See, Bobbi," she half
whispered to me.  "I knew you could do it!  That is the real you!" She
kissed me gently on the cheek.  I had to agree with her.  That was in-
deed the real me.  It was also the first time anyone had called me
"Bobbi."  I have kept the name ever since.

Margo's transformation of me was good, but it was far from finished.  I
stood there in just bra, panties, garter-belt, sheer stockings, and wig
admiring myself in her full-length mirror.  I liked what I saw very
much, but I also wanted more!  Margo was quick to oblige.  She handed
me a white lace full-slip with little pink bows at the straps and at
the hem that just matched the other things I was wearing.  Then she led
me to the make-up table, and we sat down on the bench.

Margo picked the shades, and applied the make-up.  Soon my nails were a
pink to match the bows on the lingerie, and she was working the foun-
dation over my face.  "You have a tiny problem that most 'real girls'
don't have," she said.  "You have to go a little heavier on the foun-
dation to cover that little beard of yours." The face powder, blush,
and eye shadow were next, followed by the mascara, and finally pink
lipstick to match my nails.  "Put these in your purse," Margo said han-
ding me the lipstick, powder, and eye make-up she had used on me.
"You'll need them for touch-up's later."  She did her own make-up then
using blue shades on her eyes to set off the aqua lingerie she wore.  I
watched in fascination as I waited for my nails to finish drying.

With the make-up applied, Margo went back to her closet.  She soon pro-
duced a pink leather purse, and pink pumps with four inch heels, and
handed them to me.  I slipped the shoes on, and she said.  "Put your
make-up in the purse, and then your wallet and cigarettes from your
pants.  You'll need them when we go out."  I swallowed hard, and began
to shake!  I had not expected that all of this would go beyond Margo's
apartment!  I had been in Drag at home in my mother's and sister's clo-
thes in PRIVATE before, but Margo had been the only person to have seen
me as a woman up to today, and she had only been privileged to that
during the last hour!  I was scared!!  What if somebody saw that I was
really male?  What would or COULD happen?

Margo saw my fear, and smiled gently at me.  "Relax, Bobbi," she said.
"We girls are only going for a little walk, so you can see what being a
woman feels like outside.  You look lovely!  You will be fine.  Nothing
bad will happen."  I thought for a moment.  I did want to do it.  I was
just scared of the unknown.  I glanced at the clock.  It was almost
9:00PM, and it was dark out.  Nobody would be able to see me very well,
and I would be with Margo who lived as a woman.  We would just look
like two more women walking in New York City's theater district and
Times Square.  I told myself it would be all right, but I was still
frightened and excited over going out in Drag.

>From the closet, Margo brought forth a white cocktail dress.  It was
knee length with three quarter sleeves, and the white satin under-dress
was covered in white lace.  I slipped it over my head while she put on
a blue-green jersey sheath that made her look positively slinky.  Margo
did up the zipper at the back of my dress, sprayed me with perfume, and
announced.  "There!  Now you are the sort of girl that men's dreams are
made of!  Take a look!" I stepped up to the full-length mirror again.
I gasped at what I saw!!  There in the mirror looking back at me was
one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen!  She looked like some-
thing out of a movie!  It took me more than a moment to get used to the
fact that she was ME!!  I almost cried for joy!!

Margo reached into her jewelry box, and gave me a pink cameo locket on
a thin gold chain along with three gold rings one of which had a pink
stone in a marquise setting.  I put these on, and she gave me a pair of
gold earrings with pink baubles that hung down, and matched the cameo
around my neck.  A white lace shawl completed the outfit, and we were
ready to leave for our walk.  Margo opened the door of the apartment,
we stepped out into the hall, and rode the elevator down.  I was out in
Drag for the first time!

On the street, the Manhattan traffic was noisy as ever, and somehow
that was very comforting to me.  I was terrified, and I needed some-
thing to remind me that this was really happening.  As we walked I not-
iced that all eyes seemed to be on me!  Had they found me out?  I asked
Margo what was going on, and she responded.  "Don't worry!  All men,
whether they know it or not, look at all women all of the time.  It is
just biological.  You are a pretty girl, so all the women will look
too, and compare you with what they think they look like.  All those
looks are a compliment!  Just relax, and enjoy it!" It took a while yet
after she said that to me, but after we had been out for half and hour
I was starting to calm down.

Margo stopped in front of a bar called "The Gilded Grape".  I knew the
place.  It was the only real transvestite bar in New York City.  "Let's
have a cocktail!," she announced, and maneuvered me to the door.  I
hesitated.  I wasn't sure that I wanted to do this!  A walk on the
street was one thing, but talking to people up close in a bar was quite
another!  "Stop worrying!," admonished Margo.  "All the girls here are
guys.  Why not go in?"  She was right.  That bar was probably even
safer than the street.  Why not indeed?  Margo opened the door, and we
went in.

The scene inside was familiar.  I had not been inside "The Gilded Gra-
pe" too often, but I knew it well enough.  There were two bars.  One
near the front door where Edie, who looked more like a Beauty Queen
than a Drag Queen, was barmaid, and a bar at the back where Emma held
court.  Emma was a biological woman of some forty years who looked and
acted like the puppet "Madam" from the comedy act of "Whalen and Mad-
am."  Indeed, Whalen had been a regular at another Gay Bar where Emma
had once worked, and had based the character of his puppet on her!  It
was to this rear bar that Margo led me.

All eyes seemed to be on me as I walked through the room.  I had some-
times sat at one of those tables myself, and looked over the "girls" as
they walked by.  Now it was my turn to be ogled by the men!  I was the
"New Girl In Town" for the guys to lust over!  I could FEEL all their
eyes on me, and it felt GOOD!!  I could feel my penis stiffen down bet-
ween my legs even though it was tucked back into my crotch!  I felt
like the woman that I wanted to be at last!  I was a sex object, and I
liked it!!

Margo and I sat at the bar, and ordered a drink.  I was introduced to
Emma, and received the first in a long string of compliments that I was
to receive that night.  I was starting to get used to being a girl.
Just then a guy sat down on the stool next to me.  Our eyes met, and I
could see that he liked what he saw.  "Hello," he said.  "You're new
here?"  I replied that I was.  He smiled, and asked if I would like to
dance.  I hesitated for a moment, but an elbow in my ribs from Margo
helped me make up my mind!  We got up to go to the dance floor, and he
asked my name.  "Bobbi," I replied.  "Bobbi, eh?," he said.  "It suits
you.  A pretty name for a beautiful girl!  My name is Peter."  He was
the first person to call me beautiful.

On the dance floor, Peter slipped his arms around me.  The D.J.  was
playing a slow number, and Peter held me very close as we glided across
the floor.  It felt good to be in his arms, in a man's arms!  It was
not the first time that a man had held me.  It was not the first time
that I had danced with another man.  Somehow, however, this was dif-
ferent.  There was something about the way that he held me while we
danced.  Maybe it was the way that he looked at me.  Maybe it was the
way that his hand on my back moved slowly and gently trying to get just
the slightest touch of the more intimate parts of my body.  I only knew
that it felt very good, and I did not want it to stop!

I pressed closer to him, and felt his hard cock pressing against my
thigh.  My insides began to tingle!  Not only had I become the woman
that I knew I was that night, but I could bring a man to erection as
that woman!

The music stopped, and Peter kissed me gently on the cheek.  I was sur-
prised, but I did not pull away.  His lips moved to mine, and we kissed
for a moment.  Then he said.  "I hate to say this for both of us, but I
have to leave now.  Here is my business card.  Will you call me this
week?  I would like to have dinner with you." I promised that I would,
and he kissed me again.  This time our lips parted, and we kissed for a
very long time.  I promised again that I would call him, and he depar-
ted.

I walked back to the bar.  I was feeling a little depressed that Peter
had to leave, but I thought about the next time I would see him, and my
penis tingled!  That would be quite a date!

Margo was still at the bar, but she was not alone.  She was talking to
the man sitting next to her.  He was tall, and not really good looking
although pleasant enough.  She was sitting  very close to him, and she
pointed me out to him as I approached.  As I sat on the other stool
next to her he whispered something to her, and nodded.  "Bobby, this is
Frank," Margo said.  I shook hands with him in greeting, and Margo
asked me to accompany her to the "Ladies Room." It was the beginning of
another adventure in this eventful night!

Margo and I entered the "Ladies Room."  It was the first time that I
had ever been in one.  It was different from the "Men's Rooms" that I
had been in.  There were no urinals, and one wall had a long mirror on
it with a wide shelf.  A number of other Drag Queens were at the mirror
adjusting their make-up.  "Take care of your needs, and meet me at the
mirror," Margo ordered.  I did so, taking the time to adjust the tuck
of my penis back into my crotch between my legs.  Margo was waiting at
the mirror when I got there.

We took a moment to fix our make-up, and then Margo spoke.  "What do
you think of Frank?," she said.  I told her that he seemed nice enough
not really knowing what she was driving at.  Then she got very serious.
"Frank is a sort of friend of mine," she said.  "We see each other
every couple of weeks.  He's 'straight', but he likes something differ-
ent from his tacky wife sometimes.  Tonight he wants to party with two
'girls', and he likes you.  He's very generous, so there's fifty dol-
lars in it for you.  What do you think?"

This was not what I had expected tonight!  I knew that Margo turned
tricks for cash, but I had not considered doing it myself before.  The
idea of being a prostitute was exciting to me though, and after a mo-
ment of thought I said, "All right!  I'll do it!  What do we do now?"
Margo smiled.  "Just follow my lead, and be friendly," she said, and
led the way back to the bar.

We sat for a few minutes at the bar with Frank while he and Margo spo-
ke, and then we all rose to leave.  On the street, Margo and I each
took one of Frank's arms, and we walked to her apartment.  In the ele-
vator, Frank took the liberty of feeling my ass.  I only smiled at the
intimate touch.  He would get quite a bit more than a quick feel before
that night was over!

Margo fumbled in her purse for keys while we stood at the door to her
apartment.  Frank lost no time in getting his money's worth of me!  He
roughly pulled me to him, and kissed me probing the inside of my mouth
with his darting tongue.  His arms were around me, and while his left
arm pinned me to him like a vice, I felt his right hand resume its exp-
lorations of my bottom.  With great care and skill he managed to hike
my skirt high enough to slip that right hand of his under the hem, and
gain free access to the naked flesh of the back of my left thigh above
my stocking top.  He also treated his hand to still another roam across
my tush, now with only my filmy white panties separating that hand from
my soft, warm flesh, and probed a finger or two up under the elastic of
the leg hole for an added thrill.  All the while his kissing had not
missed a beat!

"Hey!  Break it up, you two!!"  Margo's voice snapped us back to real-
ity.  She was standing inside the apartment door, and beckoning us to
come in.  "You may find each other irresistible, but I do have neigh-
bors, and besides I feel left out!," she complained to Frank and I as
we entered the apartment.  I murmured a quiet apology, but Frank said
nothing.  His response was to grab Margo in his arms, and give her the
same treatment he had given me a couple of minutes earlier.  She wri-
thed gently against him like the practiced temptress she was, and I
noticed her hand lightly stroking his cock through his trousers.  The
seemed suddenly oblivious to the fact that I was in the room.  I closed
and locked the apartment door, and sat demurely on the sofa like a good
girl to wait for them.

"Well, at least we know we all like each other!," was Margo's comment
when they joined me a couple of minutes later.  Frank plopped down on
the couch next to me, and Margo continued.  "I told you that you would
like Bobbi, Frank.  I am rarely wrong about such things.  This should
be a fun evening!"  She paused for a moment, and then said, "Frank?
Can we get the, Uh... 'financial arrangements' out of the way first?"
Frank sighed, and produced his wallet.  He took out some bills, and
passed them to Margo.  She counted out fifty dollars for each of us,
and handed me my share saying, "Put this in your purse, Bobbi."  I did,
and then joined Margo who was standing before Frank.  "Well," she said.
"Now we can have some fun!"

Frank sat on the sofa, and watched the events of the next few minutes
unfold before him.  Margo stood behind me, and unzipped my dress.  I
stepped out of it in a very ladylike way, and she tossed it over a
chair leaving me with just my slip to cover the rest of my lingerie.
Then she turned her back, and I removed her dress in the same way.  We
faced each other, and kissed a long, probing kiss while we both slid
the straps of each other's slips off our shoulders, and let then fall
in delicate heaps about our ankles.

We stepped out of the piles of silk, and stood before Frank in just
bra, panties, garter-belt, stockings, and shoes.  I all in white lace
with dainty pink bows, and Margo in aqua silk with dark blue bows.  His
eyes lit up like searchlights!  If he had liked what he saw of us in
the bar, he was now positively bursting with excitement over the vision
that he beheld!  The bulge in his trousers was begging to be set free
of its confinement, and I was getting curious of what it looked like.
Margo nudged me toward the couch, and Frank took my arm to gently tug
me into sitting on his lap.  Margo disappeared into the bedroom.

I could feel the hardness of Frank's cock pressing into my soft behind
as I sat on his lap.  I wondered if he knew just how deeply into my ass
I wished it was REALLY pressing at that moment!  My own penis, in its
tuck back in my crotch between my legs, was now quite stiff too.  I
could feel a longing behind it deep inside of me.  As if the ghost of
the vagina that should have been there was yearning to feel the length
of this man's cock plunging in and out of it!  I was more than aroused
by all had happened, all that was happening, and all that was GOING TO
happen it me that night!  I let all control of myself go, and jumped
headlong into the spirit of the evening!!

Frank was kissing me again, probing all the while at the inside of my
mouth with that delicious tongue of his.  This time, however, his hands
had free access to roam unchecked over all of me, and roam they did!
He may not have been a great lover, but dressed as I was, the sexual
and sensual excitement that I was feeling was all but overpowering.  I
squirmed playfully on his lap, and felt his now granite hard cock dig-
ging even more urgently into the soft flesh of my bottom.

I was doing what I had always wanted to do!  I was sexually arousing a
man as a woman!  I had become what I had always wanted to be!  I was a
woman in every way that it was possible for me to be a woman at that
moment!  I was living the most incredible night of my entire life!  I
wanted to savor every instant of it!!

Margo appeared at the bedroom door, and called out to us.  "I've turned
down the bed, and I'm getting lonely in here!  Would you two care to
join me in the boudoir?"  Neither Frank nor I needed any encouragement
to get us to head for "...the boudoir."  If the poking and prodding
that my little tushy was getting by his cock every time I moved in his
lap was any indication, he needed a small trip to "...the boudoir," or
he was going to make a large mess in his trousers, and probably stain
Margo's sofa in the process!  It was also obvious that getting me into
bed was the primary thought in his mind at that moment, and I echoed it
in my own mind as well.  I wanted him to get me into bed too!!

Frank's right hand never left some part of my body as we walked to the
bed.  At the doorway his left hand picked up Margo, and was giving her
the same treatment.  "Stand still!," Margo ordered him as we approached
the bed.  "You are a little overdressed for the occasion, but we'll so-
on fix that!"  I unbuttoned Frank's shirt, and Margo un-buckled his
belt.  I pulled the shirt off to reveal his massive, hairy chest.
Frank might not have had a very handsome face, but his body was hard,
tanned, and muscular!  I treated myself to a taste of his tiny male
nipples as the shirt fell away, and felt him stiffen and gasp with ex-
citement.  I looked down, and saw that Margo had disposed of his trou-
sers and shoes, and was gently nibbling at his muscular thighs while I
was flicking at his nipples with my tongue.  Frank was immersed in sex-
ual passion, but we were having as much fun as he!

Then Margo kneeled in front of him, slipped her fingers into the waist-
band of his briefs, and pulled them to his ankles.  A huge cock jumped
forth, and slapped against her cheek!  It was fully seven inches long,
and two inches thick!  A deep tangle of coarse black hair surrounded
the base from which it rose to end in a knob that looked as big as a
Ping-pong ball!  A heavy sack with large balls hung below, and Margo
immediately began to taste those balls making Frank give out a low
moan.  I gasped, and stared at the huge cock that only minutes ago had
been prodding my ass through Frank's trousers.  More than ever now, I
wanted it in me!!

Margo stood up from kneeling, and surveyed Frank's naked body.  From
the look in her eyes, I could tell that she liked what she saw.  Look-
ing at him, my own penis throbbed and twitched although it was still
confined by my panties, and tucked back between my legs into my crotch.
I was sure that Margo's penis was doing the same things, and I also
longed to touch it along with Frank's out of curiosity.  "I said you
would like this, Bobbi," Margo whispered in my ear as Frank lay down on
the bed.

Frank lay on his back with his hard cock jutting straight up while Mar-
go and I kneeled on either side of him.  His arms pulled us toward him,
and he kissed us each in turn.  We then began trickling kisses and ton-
gue play down each side of his neck, and across his body.  We each
stopped at the small nipples of his firm pectorals to suck and nibble
gently.  Frank moaned quietly at the attention the sensitive parts of
his body were getting.  His hands were roaming all over us.  He even
managed to slip a finger of his left hand under the elastic legband of
my panties to just caress the head of my penis for a moment.  I shud-
dered with ecstasy!  I did like what was happening just as Margo said I
would!

Margo and I moved further down Frank's body nearing the goal of our
quest.  We reached his cock at exactly the same moment, and started
kissing either side of it starting at the base, and working up.  At the
tip, our lips finally met, and we kissed each other with the head of
Frank's circumcised cock pressed tightly between us.  Frank let out an
audible groan of pleasure as our mouths parted, and we flicked at the
glans with our tongues.  He liked what was happening too!

I licked my way back to the base of Frank's cock while Margo continued
teasing its head with the tip of her tongue.  I found my way to his
balls, and licked at them hungrily.  The were warm and hairy, and they
tasted just the way a man's balls should taste to his woman.  I felt
that I could have nuzzled them for hours.  I nibbled at the sack, tak-
ing the loose flesh into my mouth, and gently rolling it against the
back of my lower teeth with my tongue as I sucked on it.  I took one of
the balls completely into my mouth, and slid my tongue around and arou-
nd it to Frank's obvious delight.

Margo descended to the base of Frank's cock, and I moved up to the tip.
I took the large head between my lips, and knew instantly that he was
close to orgasm.  I ran my tongue around the tip of his cock the way I
had just been doing with his balls, and I could taste the little tric-
kle of pre-cum that seeped from the slit.  I worked his cock in and out
of my mouth slowly at first, but gaining speed faster and faster as I
worked!  I increased the pressure with my lips bringing him ever closer
to climax!

Frank's cock then all but literally exploded in my mouth!  His first
stream of semen shot all the way to the back of my throat, and splashed
against my tonsils before spilling down deep inside of me!  He contin-
ued to pump his cum into my mouth until I thought it would overflow!  I
held it all in, and lolled it on my tongue tasting the delicious salty-
ness of it before greedily swallowing it all to keep for my very own!

I lay back on the bed along Frank's left side after he had finished
cumming in my mouth, and Margo lay along his right.  He had his arms
around us.  We all played with each other while we waited for his balls
to recharge with semen.  The night was far from over!

Frank did not take long to rest.  His hands were roaming all over Margo
and I as he lay there, and I was more than aroused already from all
that had gone before.  My penis, although still safely tucked away in
my panties, was throbbing with excitement!  I had my own load of semen
straining for release, and I was sure that Margo was in the same con-
dition!  I wrapped my left hand around Frank's cock.  It was stiffening
again, and I could hardly wait!  Biologically Margo and I might be
male, but in Drag at that moment, I was his woman, and I wanted him
inside of me!!

I continued playing with Frank's cock as it grew to full hardness while
Margo sucked gently on his right nipple.  His left hand suddenly slip-
ped into my crotch, and fingered my penis through the thin film of
nylon that was my tiny white panties.  I shivered with the ecstasy and
anticipation of what was about to happen!  I turned my head to face
him, and out lips met.  His tongue pressed its way back into my mouth.
It tasted sweet.  I teased it with my own tongue, and he responded by
rolling to face me, and enfolding me in his arms.

We kissed long and passionately with him fondling my penis through my
panties, and I stroking his naked cock all the while.  Margo was all
over both of us.  Caressing my behind, fingering his ass, touching my
breasts, kissing his strong back, and doing all she could to raise our
already torrid level of excitement.  My mind was racing wildly!  I
could think of nothing else but having Frank fuck me in every possible
way!

I did not have long to wait!  Frank suddenly kneeled up on the bed, and
slid me onto my back before him.  His hands went to the elastic of my
panties, gripped them with his fingers, and stripped them from my quiv-
ering body!!  He took hold of my calves to spread my legs, so that he
could kneel between them.  As my legs parted, my penis popped free of
its tuck in my crotch, and stood straight up begging for further re-
lease!

I stared along my body at Frank's cock hovering over my tummy with its
head scant inches from the head of my own penis.  He was naked, and I
now wore only bra, garter-belt, and stockings.  I glanced at my penis,
and thought of how grotesque it looked.  It should not be there!  In
its place I should have the vagina of the woman I really was!  More
than ever now, I wanted to be that woman for him, and for myself!!

Margo lost no time in preparing the stage for the next act of our play.
She slipped a pillow under my hips to raise my ass so that it would be
easier for Frank to enter me, and spread some K-Y Jelly over the head
of his cock.  It was not a moment too soon!  Frank moved forward, and
positioned his cock at my waiting asshole.  I gasped deeply when its
head popped past my sphincter!  I moaned as he thrust the seven inches
of its shaft up inside of me!  He waited only for a moment while I
caught my breath, and began a slow, rhythmic, in and out motion, fuck-
ing me to further heights of passion!  My mind reeled with it all!  At
last I was being laid like a lady!  I did not want it to stop!!

Soon I felt something else warm at my asshole.  At first I had no idea
of what it could be!  Then I realized that it was Margo!  She was down
between our legs licking my ass, and Frank's cock and balls as he
fucked me!  The feeling was incredible!  I was being fucked and eaten
at the same time!

Frank's cock soon started to grow warm and twitch inside of me, and I
knew that he was close to cumming.  My penis too was responding to
being rubbed between our bellies as he pumped me.  Suddenly Frank
thrust his cock's full length into me!  I felt it spasm, and then a
warmth grew deep within my bowels!  He was cumming as hard and hot as
he had done in my mouth, and I eagerly received his full load of semen!
I had fulfilled the woman in me!  My man had fucked me, and I enjoyed
every second of his cumming!!

Frank's cock slipped from my ass as he fell back exhausted on the bed
next to me.  I felt a wetness on my tummy as he moved away.  I looked
down to see my penis shrinking after its final release.  I too has cum
from the touching of our bodies together!  I slid the pillow from be-
neath me, and lay quietly next to him.

I had sampled all that I had ever wanted from the female side of my
sexuality that night.  I knew that it would happen again, but I wanted
to savor this first time.  I had lost my virginity as a woman, but
there was still one more thing to come tonight!

Margo appeared at the bedside with two washcloths.  She gently cleaned
off the remains of our passion as Frank and I lay together.  Soon Frank
was able to stand, and reluctantly he got dressed.  I could see that he
did not want to leave, but he had gotten all that he had paid for, and
he had to go home.  I too did not really want to see him go.

I stood, and tucked my penis back up into my crotch between my legs
while his back was turned.  I glanced at myself in the full-length mir-
ror.  Standing there in my bra, garter-belt, and stockings, the thatch
of hair at my crotch even looked like a woman's pussy!  This is what I
had wanted to be, and that night I had made it!

I kissed Frank one more time in good-by.  He smiled, and said, "You're
quite a woman, you know!"  Something tingled deep inside of me.  I
could have been paid no higher compliment at that moment.  A ladylike
tear of joy welled up in my eyes.  I knew now what I was, and what I
had to be.  There was still a long road ahead, but I had taken the
first step.  I watched in silence as Margo escorted him to the door,
and let him out.

"Bobbi," Margo said as she returned to the bedroom.  "Please stay over
tonight.  It's really too late for you to go home anyway."  She did not
wait for me to answer, but reached into a drawer, and produced a lacy
yellow nightie for me.  I slipped out of my bra, garter-belt, and stoc-
kings, and put it on.  When I looked up, she too was wearing a short,
pale-blue nightie.

We lay down on the bed together, but as she relaxed her own small penis
popped free of her crotch, and jutted rigidly out from her body.  I
then realized that while Frank and I had both cum twice in the course
of the evening, Margo had not had any release!  "Just lay back, Margo,"
I whispered softly to her.  "It's your turn now."

I kneeled over her, and took her penis into my mouth.  Margo moaned
prettily as I worked on her.  This was not an act of hot passion as had
gone before.  There was about it all the gentleness of two women making
love, and that was at it should be, for that was what was happening!

I sucked Margo's penis, and stroked her balls for only a few minutes
when I felt her cum gently in my mouth.  The taste was not as rough and
salty as Frank's semen, but sweet as I knew it would be.  She pulled me
to her, and we kissed sharing her cum in both of our mouths.  As the
kiss broke we swallowed the semen together.  It was the most gentle
lovemaking I have ever experienced.

I pulled the covers over us.  We kissed again, and then drifted off to
sleep in each other's arms.  We had shared an incredible experience
that night, and would share many more in the future!


EPILOG:

I did not go home that night, nor for many nights after that.  I moved
in the very next day to live with her.  We lived together as two women
for a couple of years after that.  We had many other experiences with
men both together and individually since then, but none have ever sur-
passed that of my first night in Drag!


Sub-title: Babydoll Grows Up

The first week of sharing Margo's apartment with her was all I had
hoped it would be.  We had been lovers before, and would make love to
each other many times again, but we did not live together as lovers.
The apartment had a second bedroom which Margo had been using to store
odds and ends.  We cleaned that out to become my bedroom.  We both
shared Margo's bed for the first few days, but by Thursday night my
somehow appropriately queen-sized bed arrived, and we each had our own
room.

We came to an agreement right away on the, for lack of a better phrase,
"sexual arrangements" for our place.  On average, men tend to have
their casual affairs outside of their living space while women tend to
bring their sex home with them.  If we held to that statistic, we would
each need a place to be bedded by our lovers.  We decided that whatever
we did in the privacy of our own rooms with whomever we chose to do it,
was our own business.  The living room would be for mutual use for en-
tertaining with our clothes on unless we were both entertaining the
same lover, or the other one had previously announced her intentions of
being out all night.  The kitchen was our place, and off-limits to
lovers.  These arrangements worked well, and we held to them all the
while we lived together.

The only problem I had was the need to keep my male job, so that I
could pay my half of the rent.  How I loathed getting up each morning,
and putting on that stifling male clothing, and heavy shoes to trudge
to work.  The job was not difficult.  I was the stockboy in the Chil-
dren's Shoes Department of a famous 5th Avenue department store.  The
problem was that I had to do it as a male, and I no longer wanted to be
male in any way!  I had to find a way to change that, or at least the
job.  I did not yet know how to do it, but I knew I would somehow find
a way.

As soon as I got home from work each night, I would shower, and change
into some frilly lingerie borrowed from Margo.  She was generous to a
fault with me, but I could not continue to borrow things all the time.
She had made me a present of the white outfit that I had worn on my
first night in Drag, but a girl needs more than one outfit.  There was
but one answer.  We had to do what every woman enjoys doing more than
anything else.  We had to go shopping!

Saturday morning was bright and breezy in New York City.  It had been
one week since my first night in Drag, and it was time to take the next
step.  Margo layed out the outfit I would wear after breakfast.  There
was a yellow based floral print skirt with a hemline that fell just
above my knee, and a matching loose fitting jacket.  To go with that
was a light pastel green silk blouse, and green shoes and bag that were
almost the same color as the blouse.  Margo also let me wear the aqua
lingerie set that she had worn last Saturday.  I tucked my penis back
into my crotch, and slipped on the panties.  "Always dress to the nines
when you go out shopping," Margo told me as we put our clothes on.
"You get a lot better service from the tacky shopgirls when you look
better than they do!"  She was right.

I was shifting things from the pink purse to the one Margo had just
given me when I came upon something I had almost forgotten in the
rigors of moving that week.  It was Peter's business card.  Peter and I
had danced at "The Gilded Grape" last Saturday night, and I promised to
call him.  I tucked the card into the frame of the mirror over my dres-
ser.  I did not want to forget to call on Monday when he would be back
at his desk.  I wanted very much to see him again.

We were ready to go out by 10:00AM, and the elevator whisked us to the
street.  Another womanly adventure lay ahead!

We hailed a taxi, and I got in first to slide across the back seat, so
Margo could get in.  I glanced at the driver, and caught him trying to
sneak a peek up my skirt in the rear-view mirror as I passed along the
seat.  I was in a good mood, so I let my legs spread, and my skirt to
hike up just enough to give him a flash of my thigh above my stocking
top.  He took it all in.  I wonder what he would have thought if he had
known that a little higher above that stocking top, my penis was neatly
tucked away protected by my panties.  He just got a very pleased look
on his face, and said, "Where to, ladies?!"

The cab weaved its way through the usual crush of midtown New York City
traffic, and soon deposited us in front of "Macy's" at Herald Square.
I treated the driver to another peek up my skirt as I slid out.  He
grinned appreciatively.  I liked being a tease!

Margo led the way into the store.  Macy's was its usual hubbub of act-
ivity, but soon we had shopping bags full of bras, garter-belts, blou-
ses, skirts, stockings, dresses, jeans, shoes, make-up, and jewelry.
We spent about $300.00 in all.  "Just get your dressy things here,"
Margo advised.  "We can get the everyday stuff cheaper else-where." We
walked out of the store loaded, and walked up 34th Street to get some
of that "everyday stuff" to add to our load.

Our last stop was a wig shop on 5th Avenue near 35th Street.  Margo se-
emed to know the owner, and introduced me to him.  "Bobbi, this is
Ira," she said.  "Be very nice to him.  All the girls like us get wigs
here."  Ira was about 55 years old, smelled of old cigars, and was rude
enough to give my bottom a good feel while I looked at the wigs.  Margo
gave me a signal that I should not protest the intimate touch, and Ira
continued feeling me up all the while we were in the shop.  I tried to
pretend not to notice, but it really bothered me quite a bit!

When Ira rang up the sale for the two wigs I bought, I saw why Margo
had motioned to me that I should not complain.  Ira had marked the bill
"Shopworn", and taken 60% off the price!  "He gets his jollies feeling
up any Drag Queen that comes in," Margo said when we were back out on
the street.  "He's a pig, but it saves you some money." I was learning
a whole new set of ethics on my way to becoming a woman.

The taxi deposited us back at our apartment, and we took my purchases
inside.  It was all we could do to carry it all.  I had spent almost
$500.00, but now I had a woman's wardrobe.  I could live now as a woman
full time if I wished.  All that remained was to be able to have a job,
and support myself as a woman.

That was what I wanted then above all else in the universe.  I had nev-
er felt comfortable as a male.  It took me a long time to figure out
what was wrong, but now I knew.  My childhood had started out normally
enough, but I was never really interested in the things that the other
boys in the neighborhood were.

                              = = * = =

I found sports boring.  My father could never understand this, and sh-
owed his displeasure by all but ignoring me as I was growing up.  When
I was about 14 years old, I even tried to cultivate an interest in some
of the things he liked in an attempt to get closer to him, but he put
down my lack of knowledge of those things, and managed to strain our
already tenuous relationship even further.  I was just not what he wan-
ted in a son.

If I did not get on well with the boys in the neighborhood, I did enjoy
playing house with my sister and her girlfriends.  The girls liked it
because that way they had someone to play the "daddy", but I loathed
that role.  It did not suit me at all, but at least I was in the game
that way.  I did not know what was wrong with me.  I only knew that I
was different somehow, and that I did not seem to fit in completely
with the "normal" groupings of childhood.  I was 15 years old when I
began to realize why.

I had only been 15 for a few months, but I already considered myself
enough of an adult to act on my own.  Apparently my parents agreed too
one day when I found myself left alone at home.  I had a slight cold,
and I had talked my mother into letting me stay home from school.  My
father was at work, of course, my sister was in school, and my mother
had to visit her sister in a hospital some distance from where we liv-
ed.  "We're giving you a big responsibility," my mother announced as
she was leaving.  "Take good care of the house.  I'll be back around
three fifteen." With that she pulled her coat on, and left.  I was
alone.

I glanced at the kitchen clock.  It was 8:30AM.  If my mother was not
due back until about three that left me six and a half hours to amuse
myself on my own.  I had not had breakfast yet, but I was not really
hungry.  I wandered through the house aimlessly looking around the ro-
oms.  There must be an instinct to do that in all of us.  Sort of like
some primordial animal surveying a new territory.

I stepped into my sister's room.  I looked at the dolls lying about,
and picked one up.  This was the baby doll that we used when we played
house.  I had cradled it in my arms as its "daddy" many times before,
but there had always been a little girl around to take it away from me.
Today, however, I could hold it for as long as I liked.  I vaguely th-
ought about how much I liked being its "mommy" for a change, and not-
iced my sister's robe lying across the bed.  I touched it, and thought,
"Why not?"

I stood and removed my pyjamas.  I was naked in my younger sister's ro-
om.  That was Freudian enough, but nothing compared to what was to co-
me.  I picked up the robe, and found a "baby doll" nightie underneath.
I gazed at it for only a moment before I caught myself stepping into
the panties, and pulling them up my legs.  I had a little trouble get-
ting my penis into them.  It stood out rock hard from my body, and I
had to lay it back against my tummy.  I slipped the top of the nightie
over my head, and felt the cool nylon fabric caressing my torso as it
floated down over me.  My nipples too were now erect, and I could just
make out the outline of their little nubs poking into the fabric when I
looked in the mirror.

I tugged the robe around me, put my feet into a pair of fuzzy slippers,
and trembled all over.  To this day I find it difficult to describe
what I felt at that moment.  Something changed in me.  I felt real and
alive at last!  As a boy I always felt as if I were acting a role in
costume in some strange play.  This was different.  I was normal, the
way I should have always been.  I picked up the dolly, and went to the
kitchen for my first breakfast as a girl.

After breakfast I went back to wandering the house in the robe and ni-
ghtie.  This time I stepped into my parents' room.  It was strange be-
ing there especially dressed as I was.  This room had always been the
inner sanctum of the whole house.  As children we might run roughshod
through the rest of our home, but we always stopped at the door to this
room, looked in, and waited for specific parental permission to enter.
There was something almost sacred about it.  It smelled lightly of "Old
Spice" and my mother's perfume.  I walked slowly around the room taking
it all in.

I stood before my mother's bureau.  I was pretending to be the "mommy"
of the house, and I wondered what a real mommy might keep in the draw-
ers.  I opened one, and saw a delicate pile of silk and lace.  I took
out a pair of my mother's panties, and held them up to look at.  I knew
at that instant what I had to do.  The clothing of a little girl that I
wore would suit me no longer.  I was 15 years old, and enough of an ad-
ult to be left alone in the house for the day.  Only the clothing of an
adult woman would do.

I may have never been comfortable as a boy, but I could now feel com-
fortable as a girl.  I needed to know if I could feel comfortable as a
woman!  Was this what I had been yearning for all of my 15 years?  I
only knew that it felt right, and that it had aroused feelings and emo-
tions in me that I wanted to explore!

I placed the panties on the bureau, and returned to my sister's room.
There I stripped off the robe, nightie, and slippers, and placed them
on the bed as I had found them.  I picked up my pyjamas, and took them
to my room.  Then I returned to my parents' room, and stood in front of
the bureau looking into the mirror at myself.  I was nude, but I still
clutched the dolly.  I was about to go from little girl to woman.  This
baby doll was about to start growing up!

My hand fell to the panties on my mother's bureau, and I picked them
up.  I examined them slowly.  They were white nylon with white lace
panels at the sides.  I swallowed hard, stepped into them, and pulled
them up about my hips.  The nylon felt cool against my skin.  I felt a
rush of excitement flow through me.  They felt good!  I looked down to
see my penis straining against the filmy material.  I pressed it up
against my tummy, and looked into the open drawer.

My hands found a white nylon bra that almost matched the panties.  I
slipped my arms through the straps, and reached behind me to fasten it.
I had some trouble with the catch at first, but soon had the bra secu-
red around my chest.  My tiny male breasts did only a little toward
filling out the C-cups, but a couple of pair of stockings did the job
nicely.  I looked down at my brand new breasts.  I wished in my heart
that they were real!

After a moment of looking, I found a garter-belt and stockings.  The
garter-belt was soon around my waist, and the elastic top helped to
hold my penis back against my tummy.  The stockings were more of a
problem than I expected, and it took me a while to figure out the best
way to put them on, and hook up the garters.  I managed to put a run in
one of the stockings in the process, but I was too excited to care!

I looked at myself in the mirror standing in my parents' room wearing
my mother's lingerie.  I was far from beautiful.  In fact I looked
rather ungainly, but things felt right!  I could not explain it, but in
that lingerie, no matter how bad I looked, I felt like I belonged at
last!  Male clothing had always seemed heavy and encumbering, but these
light whisps of nylon and lace made me feel alive!  I had now to finish
the job.

In the drawer was a white nylon half slip with lace trim.  I put it on,
and looked in the other drawers.  They were filled with all sorts of
pretty things.  I wanted to try them all!  I finally settled on a
knitted pink top, and slipped it over my head.  It clung deliciously
over my breasts, and I took a moment to admire the way they looked in
the mirror before moving to the closet.  I had seen into my mother's
closet before, and I knew what I wanted next was there.  I quickly
located the white skirt with the pink belt.  I had seen my mother in
this outfit before, and I had always liked it.  I wanted to see how I
looked in it.

At the bottom of the closet were the shoes.  I took out a pair of white
pumps with four inch heels, and tried them on.  They were a little
tight, but I could get into them.  I stood unsteadily on them, and my
eyes found the blonde wig on its form on the closet shelf.  In a second
it was on my head, and I returned to the bureau for a look.

In the mirror was a strange sight.  There was a strange blonde girl
staring back at me.  She was rather plain, and perhaps not the pret-
tiest girl I had ever seen, but the realization that she was me made my
heart skip a beat!  I had seen myself in mirrors before, but I had nev-
er paid much attention to the way I looked other than to ensure that my
hair was parted properly.  I looked the female me over very carefully.

The first thing I noticed was that my face appeared rather plain for a
girl.  It took me a moment to realize that it needed make-up.  I looked
down at the bureau, but saw nothing like what I thought I needed.  I
started looking through drawers.  Soon enough I came upon the drawer
where my mother kept her extra make-up.  The tubes, bottles, jars, com-
pacts, pencils, brushes, and boxes were a mystery.  I spent quite a
while sorting through them before I got an idea of what they were all
for.  Then I had to chose a color scheme.  Since the outfit I was wear-
ing was pink and white, I chose shades of pink.  I decided against
using nail polish then thinking that it would be difficult to remove
before someone else came home.

I applied the make-up the way I thought it should be applied.  I am
sure that I looked nothing short of grotesque, but maybe it was not all
that bad after all.  I do know that I looked very different when I was
finished, but I also felt all the more female.  I felt the way it se-
emed I should feel.  I knew in my heart that this was right.  It was
now 11:45AM.  I was starting my first day as a woman, and I had almost
four hours of it ahead.

I spent quite some time just looking at myself in a number of mirrors.
I wanted to see my new female incarnation from as many angles as pos-
sible.  No matter what view I took, I liked what I saw!  Gone were the
shapeless clothes of my male self!  Gone were the angular male features
un-softened by make-up!  Gone was the feeling of rough wools and cot-
tons against my skin!  Gone was the lanky boy who never could fit into
the role into which he was cast by some perverse misalignment of gen-
etic material!

In his place was the soft female form into which he should have been
moulded from the first.  The feeling of satin and lace caressed her
delicate flesh.  The subtle shadings of her make-up blended her fea-
tures into a soft balance.  The clothing fitted and enhanced her form
to set it off at its best.

I felt wonderful!  It did not matter that I would probably not have
passed as a woman on the street that day.  I knew that such things
would come in time.  All that I cared about was that I had found the
real me at last!  The best part of that was that I liked HER!

When most people consider making major changes to their lifestyle, the
first things that they picture themselves doing are the things that ap-
pear to be the most spectacular, or the most fun.  I had just made such
a major change to my lifestyle.  Indeed, visions of dancing until dawn
in a long sequined evening gown flowed through my mind.  Even at that
moment I could picture myself doing it.  What really happened, however,
was something much more mundane.  I went downstairs, and made myself
some lunch.  It was such a simple thing, but the doing of simple things
that day affirmed and validated the woman that I had become.  The spec-
tacular is usually done by a character in a dream, but the mundane is
done by real people every day.  I was indeed real as a woman, and I did
those "every day" things to prove it.

Doing all of those mundane things made me feel very good indeed.  I
walked all over the house just to listen to the click of my high-heels
as I walked.  I moved in the chair and on the sofa in the living room
while I sat watching television just to see the different ways that my
skirt as I changed position.  I bent, twisted, and moved in as many
ways I could think of to catch glimpses of different parts of my now
female anatomy in different ways.  I did all that I could that a woman
might do that day.  I had a lot of time to make up for.

I liked the way that my female clothing felt.  By 1:30PM, I was becom-
ing sexually aroused by that fact, and all that had happened that day.
Somehow I found myself back in my parents' room staring at myself in
the mirror.  I wondered what would I look like to a man.  I slid my
skirt up to expose the creamy skin above my stockings.  I liked how
that looked!  I did it again.  Soon I was sexually teasing myself in
the mirror.  My hand went to the zipper at the back of my skirt.  I un-
did it, and slid the skirt to my feet.  I was doing a striptease for
myself, and I was enjoying both sides of it!

Before long I wore only panties and bra, and I lay down on my parents'
bed.  I had never layed there before.  It always seemed almost sacred.
This was where my father fucked my mother!  I looked down my body to
see my penis straining against the thin panties that I wore.  It seemed
to harden even more with the thoughts of them together here!  I touched
it, and a shiver ran through me.  I rubbed at the bottom of the head
with just the tip of my middle finger like a woman masturbating her
clit.  My breath came in excited gasps.  I bounced my ass on the bed
thinking of what it could be like to have a man fucking me!  My release
was copious.  I came in long spurts.  It soiled my panties, but I did
not care.  I had found what I should always have been!

The clock said 2:20PM.  My mother would soon be home.  I arose, and to-
ok off the bra and wig.  I carefully placed everything back where I had
found it.  Then I went to my room for a robe, and went into the bath-
room.  I was just starting to take off my make-up when I heard my mo-
ther entering the house.  She called to me from downstairs, and I ans-
wered that I was going to take a bath.  I got the last of my make-up
off when I realized that I was still wearing my panties.  I slipped
them off, and held them up for a look before putting them into the poc-
ket of my robe.  My mother would think that they were lost in the laun-
dry.  They really were my panties now!

                              = = * = =

Margo and I plopped into two chairs in the living room of the apartment
we now shared.  Boxes, bags, and packages from our shopping spree to
get me a complete female wardrobe lay all about the room.  I was tired!
I kicked off my high-heeled shoes to give my feet a rest.  I knew Margo
wanted to go to "The Gilded Grape" tonight as she did every Saturday
night, but I was not sure that I was up for it.  I did want to wear
some of my pretty new things, and I liked the atmosphere of the club,
so I knew that we would wind up there.

"Well, Bobbi," said Margo at length, "shall we put these things away?"
It took me a moment to gain my feet, but soon we were in my bedroom
with all of the parcels.  Margo sat on the bed opening things, and
passing them to me to be put away.  I only had a minimum of male cloth-
ing there.  Just enough so that I could work at my male job until I
could find work as a woman as I knew I would, and that clothing I kept
tucked away in the bottom drawers of the bureau.  There was plenty of
room for the things I had just purchased.

"We should get ready to go out soon, Bobbi," Margo said as the last
soft and lacy piece of my new feminine attire was gently placed in the
drawer.  "All right," was all I said in response.  I was tired, but I
sort of did want to go out.  I had to live in male clothing all week at
my job, so I relished every moment I could spend as a woman.  Margo
worked as a woman as a clerk in a store, and I too wanted a job as a
woman.  That all made the time that I could spend in a dress all the
more precious to me.  I knew that a shower and a change of clothes
would perk me up enough to go out.

There were two other problems to going out with Margo that evening.
Margo liked going to "The Gilded Grape" on Saturday nights, and Margo
liked going to "The Gilded Grape" on Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednes-
day, Thursday, and Friday nights too!  The problem was that Margo was
an alcoholic!  She kept it enough under some control so that it did not
affect our situation together then, but it caused quite a number of
problems for us later as it got worse.  I enjoyed a drink or two at the
bar, of course, but I did not want to try to keep up with her drink for
drink as she always tried to get me to do.

The other problem was that Margo turned tricks for cash with some of
the men who liked Drag Queens that came into "The Gilded Grape" to sup-
plement her income.  She had gotten me into doing that once, and I
would probably do it again, but I did not want to tonight.  She usually
took them to one of the sleazy hotels in the Times Square area, so I
would have the apartment to myself for a while later tonight when I
came home.  Bringing a trick up here was reserved for only a few of her
special regulars like Frank who we had brought here last week.  I just
wanted to somehow insure that I could watch television later without
having to listen to the sounds of Margo getting fucked in the next
room.

I had a word with Margo about all of this while we were getting showe-
red and dressed.  I told her that I wanted to try some things on my own
when we went out that night.  After all, I had been in public for a we-
ek as a woman, but she had been with me to advise and direct for every
minute of that time.  I told her that I appreciated her help, but I
wanted to see how I could handle things as a woman for myself.  It was
as much true as it was a ploy to get around the problems, and perhaps
more true than anything else.  I did want to feel what it was like to
be a woman on my own.

Margo took it well, and went along with it.  "So the little bird wants
to fly on her own?," she joked.  "That is fine with me.  It's about
time that you did!  You are as much woman as I can make you now.  The
rest is up to you!" I knew that she was right.  I thought that I was
just getting by a couple of problems, but the time had come for me to
leave the nest.  I was a woman now, and if I wanted to continue being
one, I had to go out on my own, and do it.

This Baby Doll was growing up a little more.  It had started with the
panties from my mother's bureau four years earlier, and this was the
third step.  For a moment my mind wandered back to that second step in
between when I lost my virginity to a man!

                              = = * = =

It was only about four months after the first time I had dressed as a
woman in my mother's clothes that it happened.  I was left alone a few
other times since that first day in Drag, and each time I headed direc-
tly for my mother's bureau to dress.  I was getting better at it, and I
even seemed to be having some of the same feelings toward things that a
woman might have.  At 16 years old I was awakening sexually more and
more each day, and that sexual awakening was in an attraction to men as
sexual partners, and not to women.  It just felt natural that way to
me.

I fantasized about what it might be like to be seduced by a man as a
woman.  I would lie in my parents' bed in one of my mother's filmy
nighties, and pretend that I was being made love to by a man.  I would
hold one of my father's king-sized pillows to me making believe that it
was my man.  I would slide the hem of the nightie up to my belly, and
roll onto my back.  Then pull the pillow on top of me, and masturbate
to climax while bouncing on the bed as if I was being fucked by a man.
I wanted it to happen for real!  I did not have long to wait.

I grew up in Union City, NJ.  Not very far from where we lived was a
vacant lot on the edge of the Hudson River Palisades.  Looking straight
down from the cliff, you could see the entrance ramps for the Lincoln
Tunnel.  Looking out across the river, you could see New York City.  In
the lot was the ruins of the foundation of an old building.  A few peo-
ple would sit on the ruins or park in the lot to watch the ships on the
river, and just enjoy the view.  You could also find a rather treach-
erous path or two that led down the cliff to some more secluded ledges
for sitting and watching.  This all amounted to the local "Lover's
Lane" in the evenings.  I, however, was a daytime watcher, and so was
an older man who seemed to enjoy watching me more than the river!

He was about 35 years old, or maybe a year or two younger when we met.
He worked a night shift, and sometimes spent the afternoon sitting on
the wall, and watching the river like I did after school.  I know now
that he was cruising almost anyone who came into the lot, bit in those
days I was still a little naive to such things.

He was about 6'1" tall with black hair, and looked very Italian.  He
was well muscled, but with just a tiny bit more tummy than he should
have to make his physique perfect.  We had talked a few times, so I
knew that his name was Don, but not much more about him.  I was about
to learn a great deal more on that day!

I was sitting on the wall watching a cruise ship dock on the other side
of the river when he sat down beside me.  We greeted each other, and
talked for a while about the ship.  While we were talking, a car with a
man and woman inside pulled into the lot behind us.  Don and I took
little notice at first, but after a little while I turned to see the
couple in the car kissing, and the man touching the woman's breast.

Don looked too for a moment, and turned back to me saying, "Do you
think he'll get a feel of her pussy too?"  I replied with only a smile,
but as I did I shifted my seat a bit, and touched my crotch.  In my
youth, I was getting somewhat excited by the scene.  I was also thin-
king of what it would be like to be that woman getting my breast, and
maybe my pussy, felt by that man!  I knew that I wanted it to happen,
but I was not yet able to understand it either.

Don saw what I was doing, and picked up his cue.  "Are you getting
hard?," he whispered to me.  I was surprised by his question, but some-
how I think I actually grasped that he was propositioning me.  I knew
that I wanted it to happen, but I did not know what to say next.  In a
halting voice, I said, "I don't know."  "Would you like me to feel it,
and see?," Don asked in a low voice.  Nervously I nodded, and his right
hand slowly moved to my crotch.

I jumped slightly as Don's hand touched me.  My penis throbbed with
pleasure as he held it between his thumb and forefinger through my
trousers.  It grew harder as he fondled it.  My breathing came more
quickly now, and I looked up to see him smiling at me.  I wanted to
fall into his arms, and kiss him right there and then, but we were in
public view in broad daylight.  I ached for more of what was happening
to me!

"Yes, you're getting a nice hardon there," Don said.  "I live in the
apartment house down the street.  Would you like to get a little more
comfortable with me?"  I needed no further encouragement.  I wished
that we were there already.  A quiet "Yes" was all I said, and we were
off.  I glanced into the car as we passed.  The man had his hand up
under the woman's skirt now.  She and I were both getting our "pussies"
felt that day!

Don and I were soon in his apartment.  I hoped that he would take the
lead in this, for I was not sure of what to do, or what would happen in
this, my first time!  I need not have worried.  Don sat on the sofa.
"Strip for me, honey!," he ordered.  I slowly took off all of my clo-
thes, and stood nude for him to look at.  I could see the bulge in his
trousers, and yearned to touch it.  I walked to him, and he reached up
to play with my now fully erect penis.  With it in his hand, I sat down
next to him.

Don's arms enfolded me, and we kissed a long probing kiss.  I had never
kissed a man in that way before, but it was wonderful!  I matched every
movement of his tongue in my mouth with a response from my own tongue.
Then my left hand dropped to the lump in his pants.  It felt huge!
Much bigger than my own penis, and I felt that I had to know what it
was like.  "Mmmm!," Don murmured.  "You're a hot one, honey!  I like
that.  Come on!"

Don stood and pulled me to my feet.  Standing, he took me in his arms
for some more kissing and feeling.  I could feel the hardness of his
cock pressing into my naked thigh through his pants.  He broke the
clinch after a few minutes to take my hand, and lead me into his bed-
room.  I did not resist.  I wanted him to have me as soon as possible!

In the bedroom, Don turned down the double bed, and then took me into
his arms for another kiss.  Then he lay me down on the bed, and stood
over me.  He stripped off all his own clothing as I watched.  The curly
black hair on his head was matched by a forest of curly black hairs all
over his body.  To this day, I am most turned on by men with hairy
chests.

At last Don removed all but his briefs.  I stared at the bulge in them.
I knew what was making that bulge, and I wanted to take it in every way
that he wanted to give it to me!  I stared even more when he stripped
away the underpants, and I got my first good look at his cock.  I thou-
ght it was one of the most wonderful cocks I had ever seen.  It was
about seven inches long with its straight slender shaft ending in a
beautiful circumcised head.  I had to touch it!

Don lay down on the bed next to me, and took me in his arms.  My hand
touched him on his ribs, and began to make its way downward on his
body.  As we kissed in that sensuous embrace, it reached his hip.  I
liked the feel of Don's flesh, and the warmth of his body pressing
close to mine as I lay in his arms.  Something about all of this felt
right to me.  I had only felt this way before when I was in Drag in my
mother's clothes.  I felt like the woman I was in this man's arms.  I
closed my eyes to better savor his probing kisses, the touch of his
hands on my body, and the feel of his skin against mine.

I moved my hand a little further down, and felt the first brush of his
pubic hair under my fingertips.  I played with my fingers in his curly
black bush causing Don to writhe a bit with pleasure.  His hand had
been caressing my penis all the while.  I wanted to return the favor,
but I was hesitant.  I was having the normal virgin's nervousness about
Don's.  I wanted very much to feel it.  I wanted to hold it in my han-
ds, and get to know every inch of it.  I knew that I had to do it.  I
mustered all of my courage, and my hand moved lower.

My hand then touched Don's cock!  A shiver of pleasure ran through me,
and Don moaned in ecstasy.  I had, of course, touched my own penis in-
numerable times before, so I expected this to be the same, but it was
not.  I do not know why.  A cock is a cock, and basically all men's
sexual hardware is similar, but Don's cock did not feel like my penis.
I liked the way it felt, but it felt different.

I played with Don's cock for a very long time, and felt it grow long
and hard in my hand.  I was enjoying this.  I ran my fingers all over
his cock, and rolled the shaft between my palms.  I weighed his balls
in my hands, and gently kneaded his scrotum.  I let myself be guided by
what I knew I liked to have done to me, and by my desire to explore all
of this man.  I was caught up in the experience!  This is what I wan-
ted.  I knew the woman I was from the times alone in Drag.  I would now
be able to fulfill the full potential of that woman with this man.  He
was welcome to every part of my body in any way that he wanted it.  His
pleasure was all I was for at that moment.

Don then moved to take his full pleasure with me.  "I want you now!,"
he growled into my ear with an urgency I had never heard from anyone
before.  He gripped me tightly, and rolled me onto my stomach.  "Hold
still!," he ordered, and I felt a cold lump of Vaseline squirt onto my
asshole.  I flinched at first, but wiggled my ass in anticipation of my
imminent deflowering as I felt Don's fingers rub the jelly into my
anus.

Then there was something other than a finger at my ass.  I immediately
knew what it was, and I let out a small prayer that I could take it
enough to satisfy my man.  I felt Don push at my tender, young, vir-
ginal bottom, and felt my flesh spread as he forced his way deep inside
of me!  I felt as if I was being impaled on a peg as my asshole spread
wider and wider to accept him into me.

It hurt!  It hurt like nothing I had ever felt hurting before, but it
felt very good at the same time.  The spasms of pain rippled through
me, but soon subsided to a level that I could ride along with the rip-
ples of pleasure that alternated with them.  This was what I had wan-
ted, and now I was getting all that I had hoped for!

Don rode me for some minutes.  I reveled in every stroke, and gasped in
ecstasy every time he drove that wonderful cock of his into me.  I wan-
ted it to go on for a very long time, but then there was something dif-
ferent in Don.  His movements became erratic, and his body stiffened
noticeably.  He drove his cock deep into my bowels with a violence I
had not felt from him before.  He groaned a deep guttural growl, and I
felt the warmth of his cum filling me!  My man had cum inside of me!  I
had been well and truly fucked!  I had lost my virginity!

After a while, Don rolled off of me, and lay beside me on the bed.  He
pulled me to him, and kissed me again.  I looked at the time, and real-
ized that I had to get home for dinner.  I dressed quickly, kissed Don
in good-by assuring him that I would seem him again soon, and headed
for home.  My ass squished a bit while I walked.  I thought about my
first fucking all the way home, and on into that night.  This baby doll
was really growing up!

                              = = * = =

Margo was staring at me from the doorway to my room.  "Are you com-
ing?," she asked.  I snapped out of my daydream, and replied, "Yes!
I'll be right with you!"  I had finished dressing, so all there was to
do was slip my wrap about my shoulders, and leave.  Margo and I were
soon on the street, and headed for "The Gilded Grape" again.  I was a
woman now in every way that I could be at that point in my life.  I was
enjoying it, and I wanted more.  I would soon find just that!

We spent a good deal of the first few months of living together in that
sort of routine.  A lot of my life at this time revolved around "The
Gilded Grape", and the people that I met there.  Margo would go there
almost every night, but I tried to hold it to just weekends with an oc-
casional foray in the middle of the week.  It was not that I did not
like the place.  I just felt that I had more things to do on my way to
becoming all the woman I could be than just hanging around in bars with
the other Drag Queens.

I had a long way to go on the road that I had chosen for myself.  I
wanted to be sure that I was doing it the right way, and the Gay and
closet-Gay men and transvestites in there were not the ones that I wan-
ted to do it with.  There was another life that I wanted, and that was
where I fitted in with people like the woman I was.


Sub-title: A Working Girl

It was Saturday night again, and Margo was looking to go out.  I was
too.  We had been living together for about two months now, and I was
established as one of the regular population of Drag Queens in New York
City.  That was not a bad position to be in for now, but there was one
that I would much rather have had.  That was as a real woman, and I
would get it no matter what it took.

Margo and I were as dressed up as we could be, and she was, as usual,
complaining that I took too long at it.  Margo's alcohol problem was
getting worse if anything, and there was no living with her if there
was something standing between her and a drink.  I was almost ready
anyway, so I put on my wrap, picked up my purse, and we were off to our
regular bar.  I was looking forward to a good night, and Margo was just
not going to ruin it.

The atmosphere at "The Gilded Grape" was festive as ever.  Some "gay
bars" in the Times Square area of New York City can be rather dingy and
sordid affairs, but this place always had a much higher class feeling
than the rest.  It looked and acted more like an East Side club than
anything else in the area including many of the "straight" bars.

New York City has had a long succession of places where Drag was the
order of the day.  It started with the old "Club 82" in the middle
1960's, and progressed through "The Gilded Grape", "The G.G.Knicker-
bocker" which was the old "Peppermint Lounge" of Chubby Checker and The
Twist fame, "G.G.'s Barnum Room", and ended with "The Grapevine" in the
early 1980's.  They all had a slightly different ambiance, but "The
Gilded Grape" was always the one that was remembered.  It was the best
of all!

Margo headed directly for our usual place at the bar at the rear of the
establishment where Emma held forth as Barmaid.  Margo and Emma laun-
ched into conversation the instant we sat down, but just as fast there
was a white wine in front of me, and a vodka rocks for Margo.  "I
always remember what my good customers drink," said Emma.  I thanked
her, and sipped my drink like a lady.

Tonight was "Show Night."  Once a month a number of the girls, and some
of their boyfriends would put together a small variety production on
the little stage.  It was not Broadway by any means, but it was often
quite good, and I had always enjoyed it.  "What's the show tonight,
Emma?," I asked over the din of music that always filled the place.  "I
don't know," she replied.  "Ask Tina."

I turned to where Emma had motioned, and saw another Drag Queen sitting
one stool away from me.  "Did someone address me?," she said upon hear-
ing Emma call her name.  "Are you Tina?," I asked, and she nodded.  "I
was just wondering what the show was, and Emma said to ask you." Tina
moved to the stool next to me.  "It's very good tonight," she began.
"We have a dance number by the 'G.G.Girls' chorus line, a guy who does
magic, and a sex-change singer who just cut a record.  I hope you like
it."

I replied that I was sure that I would.  Then Tina said, "We only have
one problem, and maybe you can help with it.  I am the talent coordin-
ator, and I should have eight girls in the chorus line, but one is
leaving.  I need another showgirl for future productions."  I asked how
I fitted in with that, and Tina replied, "I have seen you a couple of
times in here with Margo.  You're new, but you carry yourself well.
Would you like to be one of our showgirls?  You don't get paid, but you
don't have to dance well, and it is a lot of fun!"

I thought: "why not"!  I liked the way the men here looked at me, and
the idea of being ogled on stage was appealing.  "All right!," I said.
"What do I do?"  Tina told me that the next rehearsal would be on a
Tuesday evening in a couple of weeks, and I said that I would be there.
She also asked me to join her at a stageside table for the show.  I
looked around for Margo, but did not see her.  Emma called me over, and
whispered to me, "Margo has a trick.  She went to the hotel with him.
She said to tell you she would be home later."

I watched the show with Tina, and she showed me where I would fit in,
and then introduced me to the other girls after the show.  I got home
at about 1:30AM, and went right to bed.  Margo got in at 4:00AM.  She
had turned three tricks that night, and was drunk.  She made some
noise, but did not intentionally wake me.  I just lay back, and dreamed
of being a chorus girl.

Those first few weeks of my life as a woman flew by quickly.  I concen-
trated all I could at being as much a woman as I possibly could be with
a penis tucked discretely between my legs in my crotch.  I learned to
walk like a female, and even developed a gentle sway in my hips that
had male heads turning for blocks around whenever I walked down the
street.  I liked being looked at that way, and the first time a man
actually whistled at me, my heart skipped a beat!

I had made it as a woman so far.  I had gone beyond the level of just
Drag Queen.  Anyone could be one of those.  They were the ones who were
obviously men who dressed in women's clothing as a sexual turn-on for
themselves and/or their sexual partners.  In Drag, I looked nothing at
all like a man, and in or out of Drag, I felt and thought like a woman.
I was not a man in a dress.  I was a woman with a penis!  I was only a
cruel joke of nature that had made me this way.  I knew that I had to
change that, and become totally a woman in every way that I could.  I
just did not yet know how.

I did know that the male job that I had as a stockboy in a famous 5th
Avenue department store was getting me down.  I wanted to live totally
as a woman, but that was difficult when I had to dress in men's clothes
each morning for work.  I compromised as best I could.  I gave up
wearing any male underwear at all, and wore simple every-day lingerie
with a cotton camisole instead of a bra.  I wore the most effeminate
male outer clothes that I could.  I let my hair grow long, and had it
styled in one of the waviest of the unisex styles that were popular at
that time.  I found a cologne that ran to the sweet side, but not as
sweet as perfume.  I even had my name on all of my identification and
driver's licence changed to just my first initials and last name, but I
still had to live with the "M" in the little box marked "Sex" instead
of the "F" that I wanted so very much.  I looked like the classic
"fairy", but it made me just that much closer to the woman that I
really was.

My appearance as a "fairy" did not go unnoticed by my co-workers.  Most
shunned me as if I had some sort of dread disease.  A few tolerated me,
the greater number ignored me, but a couple were outright hostile
toward me.  One salesman with whom I had been friendly before now
avoided me at all costs.  I was saddened by this, for he (his name was
Dave) was one who I thought would understand, and maybe help me bridge
the gap.  He was a couple of years older than I, and was a philosophy
major at Hunter College.  We had talked of homosexuality in the context
of philosophy, and I assumed he would be supportive.  I missed our
talks very much.

I was a little surprised, however, at gaining a new friend in my new
role.  I was befriended by our departmental secretary, Edith.  We had
never been close before, but something about the "new" me seemed to
strike a responsive chord in her.  She was about 45 years old, but
looked some years younger.  She had long blonde hair with just a touch
of grey that she kept dome up in a bun.  She had a truly magnificent
figure for a woman of her age, and I thought that she must have been as
much of a striking beauty in her youth as she was now.  Edith had been
born in Estonia, and had fled that country with her mother soon after
it had been annexed by the Soviet Union in 1940.  He accent was
delicate and haunting.  I found myself drawn to her in a non-sexual way
that I could not explain.  She did all that she could to encourage it.

My family could not accept the change in me.  My father and I had never
been close.  I had been a disappointment to him as a son.  When he saw
what I had become, his macho homophobia kicked in, and he rejected me
out of hand.  He was quite vocal about it all, calling me "That fucking
fairy!" to all within earshot.  My mother at first tried to calm him,
but a gesture with the back of his hand stopped her.  He had beaten her
once in the past that I knew of, and she would not risk it again.  My
sister seemed more supportive, but too young to show it in outward
defiance of our father.  That left me isolated from my family.  It hurt
me deeply.

My new appearance as a "fairy" at work also caught the notice of the
Personnel Department.  One of the Assistant Personnel Managers began to
take more than a passing interest in me.  His name was Paul.  It had
always seemed like he looked familiar, but I could not place why.  I
found out soon enough.

I was at "The Gilded Grape" on Friday night sitting alone at a table. I
was dressed in a new powder-blue cocktail dress that hugged my curves
seductively.  I was just in the mood for meeting someone new when a man
sat down at the table with me.  I did not look at him at first, but I
thought to myself that I could use the cash from turning a trick that
night, so if that was what he wanted, that was just what he was going
to get.  I looked at him to say hello, and swallowed hard!  It was
Paul!

He smiled, and said, "Hello.  I've seen you around here before.  Could
I buy you a drink?"  I accepted.  Maybe he had not recognized me.  It
could be a kick to turn a trick with him, but I would have to be care-
ful.  Paul was married.  He was one of the men who came into the bar
looking for a "change" from their wives.  Now I knew where I had seen
him before, and why he had taken such an interest in the new me at
work.  I calmed down a little.  This might be fun!

The waitress brought our drinks.  As I sipped mine, Paul said, "I've
been coming here for quite a while, but I've seen very few girls like
you.  You're very pretty.  You look more like a painting than a girl."
I thanked him for the compliment, and we made small talk for a while.
Then Paul finally said, "I'd like to get to know you a little more
privately."  I leaned over to him, and whispered, "We could go out for
a while.  It will cost you twenty-five dollars, and ten dollars for the
room."  He agreed, and I led the way out of the bar.

I took him to the Alva Hotel a few blocks away.  It was just another of
the seedy hotels that dotted the Times Square area.  They rented more
rooms by the hour than by the night.  Paul registered us as another "Mr
& Mrs Smith", and we went to our room.  This was not the first, nor the
last trick I would turn, but I was excited over fooling Paul this way.
I liked being a hooker.

Paul knew the procedure.  I had barely locked the door behind us when
he handed me two tens and a five.  "Would you like to spend a little
more, and stay longer?," I asked in my most seductive voice.  "No, not
this time," he answered.  "I'll just take a blow-job for now." That was
all right with me.  "Okay," I said.  "Take off your pants!"

Paul dropped his pants, and tossed them over the chair.  I was mildly
impressed when he took off his briefs.  He had about six and a half
inches of circumcised cock-meat hanging there, and it looked clean,
smooth, and delicious!  This would be even more fun than I had thought.
One of the best parts of being a prostitute was getting a taste of a
really nice cock once in a while, and Paul's cock looked very tasty!

I slipped the straps of my dress off my shoulders, and stepped out of
it.  Paul looked at me in just my lacy powder-blue bra, panties,
garter-belt with sheer stockings, and white shoes, and his cock came to
attention!  He took me into his arms for a kiss, and I took hold of it.
It felt as nice as it looked, so I played with it for a minute.  Then I
led him into the bathroom, soaped up my hands, and gave his cock a good
washing.  A working girl has to be careful, and it was going in my
mouth after all.

"Take down your panties," he asked.  "I want to play with you while you
suck me."  I did as he asked, and my penis popped free.  From the smile
on his face, I could tell he liked what he saw!

Paul lay on his back on the bed in the cheap hotel room, and I kneeled
on the bed next to him.  His hand was on my penis immediately, but he
touched it gently.  He played with it like a man playing with a woman's
clit.  He was not rough with it like some of the men I had sex with.
His touch felt very good, and although most of the time I did not want
my lovers to touch my penis, and break the illusion that it was nothing
more than a distended clit, I really liked the way he touched it.  This
blow-job really would be fun!

I bent over, and took the length of his cock into my mouth.  It tasted
as good as it looked, and Paul sighed deeply with pleasure.  I let his
cock slip from my lips with a delicious popping sound.  His hand
continued rolling my five inch "clit" of a penis between its thumb and
forefinger sending little shivers of excitement all through me.  I was
hard by that time, and growing harder by the second.  If he would use
just a little more pressure, and moved just a little faster, I could
get off too, but he was paying for this, so it was the client's
pleasure that was important, and not the prostitute's.

I nibbled gently at the underside of his cock, and Paul's whole body
stiffened.  He was very responsive to all my ministrations, and it was
obvious that he was enjoying the blow-job I was giving him.  I moved
lower on his cock, and flicked at the ball sack that hung below with
just the tip of my tongue.  Paul was moaning audibly now, and squirming
beneath me on the bed.  I licked his balls for some moments, and even
took one into my mouth to taste.  I could have gone on with this for a
very long time, but there was a time limit on the room, and I had to
get him off before the limit ran out, but he tasted so very good!

With a bit of disappointment that this would have to end, I took Paul's
cock into my mouth to administer the coup de grace.  He shivered with
pleasure as my lips enwrapped the head, and slid down the length of the
shaft.  I really wanted to please him.  I did a "deep throat" on him,
and swallowed each time his cock reached the back of my throat.  That
way my glottis massaged the head of his cock sending further shivers of
ecstasy through him.  I then tightened the grip of my lips around his
cock, and pumped it in and out of my mouth increasing the speed of it
as I went.

Paul's cock throbbed in my mouth, and I knew that I would soon reap the
rewards of my efforts.  I braced for the first spurt of cum that I just
knew would be forcefully gushing into my mouth.  Paul took a deep
breath, held it for a moment, and then let it out in a long moaning
sigh.  As he did that, his semen started filling my mouth.  It did not
shoot in hard spasms as I had expected, but poured out slowly in one
long gentle but relentless stream.  Its warmth filled my entire mouth
before I realized what was happening.  There was so much that I am sure
it would have trickled out of my nose if I had not swallowed the first
half of his load while he was still cumming!

The outpouring of semen from Paul's cock finally stopped, and I let the
shaft slip from my lips.  He looked up at me with pleasure in his eyes
while I tasted the sweet saltyness of the load of cum that filled my
mouth, and then swallowed it all.  I never waste a drop!  I bent back
down to lick his cock and balls clean one last time, and he let go his
finger grip on my penis.  I really wanted some release too, but it was
not to happen then for this working girl.  I lay down next to him, and
he kissed me gently.  I would have liked to spend the night with him,
but that was all he had paid for.

I lay in Paul's arms for a little while, and played with his cock as it
softened.  I really wanted him to fuck me, but the trick was done.  I
kissed him on the cheek, and said, "We should get dressed now," to him
softly.  We reluctantly got out of bed.

Paul asked me to let him dress first, and pose for him in just my bra,
garter-belt, and stockings.  Prostitutes do not usually do that for
their "Johns", but I wanted to please him.  "Are you going back to the
G.G.?," I asked.  "No," he said.  "I have to go now.  Can I see you
again?"  I moved to another pose, and replied, "Sure!  I am at the G.G.
most nights.  I will see you there."  He nodded, and finished dressing.
He reached down, and touched my dress that was lying on the chair.  I
did not know why then, so I just kissed him good-bye, and let him out.

Alone now in the room, I picked up my panties, and began to get dres-
sed.  I had a problem.  Paul had excited me so much that my penis was
rock hard.  I wanted to at least masturbate, but there was not enough
time left on the room to do it.  I had to leave here soon.  It took as
much concentration and effort as I could muster to get it tucked back
between my legs into my crotch.  It hurt that way, but there was no
other was that it would not show.  I really hated having a penis most
at times like these.  I so longed to be rid, once and for all, of that
useless lump of flesh.  I had to find a way to do it!

I adjusted my breasts in my bra, and picked up my dress.  Something
fell out of the folds of the dress, and onto the floor.  I picked it
up, and found that it was a five dollar bill.  Paul must have slipped
it into the dress when he touched it on the way out.  He had left me a
tip!  In those days, thirty dollars for a blow-job and a kiss was a
pretty good price.  Paul must have enjoyed what he had gotten.  It made
me feel good.  I put it in my purse, and put on my dress.  A quick
adjustment to my hair and make-up, and I was out the door.  This
working girl had done well so far tonight.

I walked back to "The Gilded Grape" with my high-heels clicking happily
on the pavement.  I passed a couple of Drag Queens that I knew on 8th
Avenue.  They were trying to pick up a trick or two out there with all
the "real-girl" street walkers.  I waved a greeting, but did not stop.
I had never turned a trick on the street, and I wondered what that
would be like.  I would have to try it sometime.

My new friend Tina was sitting at the front bar when I walked back into
"The Gilded Grape".  I sat down on the bar stool next to her.  "How was
he?," she asked.  I looked at her with a puzzled look.  "That guy!,"
she said.  "I saw you leave with him, so I assumed you were going to
turn a trick."  I ordered a drink, and said, "Oh, I didn't know you saw
us.  He wasn't bad, but he got me horny as hell!" Tina smiled knowingly
at me.  "I know the feeling," she replied.

We sipped at our drinks, and Tina asked, "We have a rehearsal for the
'G.G.Girls' chorus line on Tuesday.  Did you get the leotard I told you
to?"  I had bought it that week.  "Yes," I said.  "I got a red one, and
the other things too."  Tina set her drink down.  "I'd like to see it,"
she said.  "This place is boring tonight.  Why don't we go to your
place, and see what you have?"  Margo was spending the night with a
boyfriend, so I said, "All right.  That sounds better than sitting
here."  We left the bar, and went to my apartment.  I was about to
start my career as a showgirl.  I was excited, but still horny!

Tina had not been to the apartment that Margo and I shared before, so
there was the usual ten minutes of showing her around, punctuated with
the usual polite comments about "how nice everything looked" from her
when we arrived.  She finally took a seat in one of the living room
chairs, and I offered her a drink.  When I brought it Tina said, "Why
don't you change into that leotard, so we can see what you look like as
a chorus girl?"  I got a tingle of excitement when she said "chorus
girl"!  I was excited about being one of the "G.G.Girls"!  I said,
"Okay!," and went to my bedroom to change.

Tina waited for me in the living room, so I could make a grand entrance
in my rehearsal clothes.  The management of "The Gilded Grape" supplied
the show costumes, so I did not have anything fancy, but I was looking
forward to posing for Tina in what I had.  I stripped to the skin when
I was alone in the bedroom, and looked at myself in the full-length
mirror.  I let my penis pop from its tuck in my crotch.  I was still
horny from my session with Paul, and with the excitement of the moment
now, it was still about half hard.  I wanted to masturbate, but Tina
was waiting for me, so that would have to come later.  I hated my
penis!  I had to find a way to be rid of it somehow.

I took out my rehearsal clothes, and started to get dressed.  These
were work clothes, so there was a minimum of frills and lace, but they
were sexy enough to make me feel quite feminine anyway.  The outfit
started with a pair of plain pink nylon panties with a little extra
stitching in the crotch to help keep my penis tucked safely away during
the high-kick numbers.  Over this I put on a pair of sheer-to-waist
nylon tights.

I put on a lightweight, but padded pink bra.  I filled out what was
missing in my bra cups with a trick that Tina had suggested.  These
were two small plastic bags filled with birdseed!  They filled out my
breasts, but were pliable enough to mould to the shape of my bra, so
they looked natural.  They also bounced and jiggled like real breasts
when I moved.  After wearing these for a while, I covered the plastic
with a cover made from a male undershirt.  That way my chest would not
sweat so much when I wore them.

The crowning touch of the outfit was a red jersey leotard, with, of
course, no legs, short sleeves, and an almost daring scoop to the neck-
line.  I tied a pink and white scarf around my waist for a belt, and
stepped into a pair of black leather dancing shoes with a two and a
half inch heel.  Then I tied my hair into a side pony-tail with another
pink and white scarf.

I looked at myself in the full-length mirror again.  I really did look
like a showgirl!  My penis twitched a bit in its tuck.  I was still
very horny, and I was excited over what was happening.  I could hardly
wait to show Tina.

I opened the bedroom door, and stepped into the living room.  Tina
looked up when I entered.  She looked very pleased at what she saw, but
there was something else in her eyes as well.  I could not put my
finger on what it was, but I liked the way she looked at me.  I just
enjoyed the fact that she seemed to like what she saw.

"Bobbi!," Tina exclaimed.  "You look wonderful!  That is exactly the
look that I want for the 'G.G.Girls' in every way!  I just knew it when
I asked you to do this.  You should fit in very well indeed."  I got
little butterflies in my stomach when she said that.  It was really
going to happen.  I was going to be a chorus girl!  Tina asked me to
walk and pose for her.  I did it willingly.  I was really enjoying
this!

 After a few minutes of directing me, Tina got up to stand with me in
 the living room.  She looked me over very carefully, taking her time
 with every bit of me.  She bounced my titties with her fingers, and
 the little friction of my falsies against my chest made my nipples
 harden.  She ran her hands down my curves, and over my bottom.  I was
 already horny as hell, and her examination only heightened that!  It
 seemed for a second that this was more than a simple theatrical
 examination.  It felt like she was feeling me up!  Then she stopped,
 and stood next to me.

 "Let's try a couple of dance moves," she suggested.  I followed her
 lead, but it was not easy at first.  Men do not usually move that way,
 but I worked had at it, and soon I was almost able to keep up with
 her.  I had the most problem with the high-kick.  Tina showed me how
 to use the back of the sofa as an exercise bar to stretch my
 hamstrings, but it would be a few months before I could move the way
 she did.  At last Tina called for a rest, and we both sat on the sofa.

 "You move very well," Tina said as she caught her breath.  I thanked
 her for the compliment.  "You could be really good if you worked at
 it.  Have you thought about dancing lessons?," she asked.  I had not
 considered it, but the idea intrigued me.  Tina continued, "I have a
 friend who runs a school.  She's a dyke, but she takes Drag Queens as
 students.  I'll give you her card." Tina took a business card from her
 purse, and handed it to me.  Her fingers brushed mine as she did, and
 she smiled deeply at me.  I took the card, but I wondered what the
 smile meant.

 Tina lit a cigarette, and spoke again, "I have an idea for a skit that
 I would like to try sometime at the G.G.  You might just fit in.  How
 about a costume change, so we can see?"  I nodded in agreement, and
 Tina rose to lead the way to my bedroom.

 "What sort of skit do you have in mind?," I asked as we entered the
 bedroom.  Tina's eyes explored me once again before she answered,
 "It's a comedy skit, and it's set in a bedroom.  Two of the boys want
 to do it, but I need a pretty girl in a nightie as 'window dressing'
 to back them up.  Do you have a sexy, but not too revealing nightie?
 Remember, we're on stage, so it shouldn't show too much."  I went to
 my bureau, and took out a pink nightie of a waltz length with a
 matching semi-transparent nylon robe.  "That's perfect!," Tina
 exclaimed.  "Let me see what you look like in it."

 Tina sat on the upholstered chair in my bedroom, and watched me strip.
 That did not help my horniness very much either!  I like being looked
 at as a woman, and Tina's gaze was as much a turn-on as any.  I had
 not dreamed that she could be sexually interested in me, but as I
 watched the way her eyes followed my every move, I became aware that
 she was taking more than a "professional" interest in me.  In a
 strange way, I liked that too!  Maybe Tina was a Lesbian Drag Queen
 who preferred other Drag Queens as sexual partners.  I had a hunch I
 was about to find out.

 I now stood in Tina's view wearing just my bra and panties.  I
 unhooked my bra, and watched her eyes flash as my small breasts
 appeared.  She was enjoying this, and frankly so was I!  I dropped my
 bra on the bureau, and reached for the elastic of my panties.  I
 turned back to face Tina, and stripped them off.  Tina smiled broadly,
 and took a deep drag on her cigarette.  "You're even more beautiful
 than I thought!," she said with a note of real sincerity in her voice.
 I smiled, and stood there in the nude for a minute while she drank it
 in.  I turned, and donned the pink nightie.  Tina still just stared at
 me.

 I stood in my bedroom in my pink nightie while Tina watched me.  I did
 a turn for her, and let the nightie flare out as I did.  "That's it!,"
 exclaimed Tina.  "That's the look I want for the skit!  You're a
 natural, Bobbi!"  She really meant what she said too, as I would find
 out as time went on.

 Tina looked at me for a little while longer.  Then she stood, and
 walked over to me.  "You really are very beautiful," she said softly
 as she slipped her arm around my shoulders.  I looked into her eyes,
 and her lips pressed to mine.  I melted into Tina's arms as she
 whispered, "I wanted you the first moment I ever saw you."  Our
 tongues played tag with each other as we fell onto the bed.

 Tina's hand moved straight to my crotch.  "There's one part of you I
 haven't seen yet," she cooed into my ear as she nibbled at the lobe.
 "I'll bet it's just as pretty as the rest of you."  I spread my legs
 for her, and she took hold of my penis.  "Mmmm... that is nice!," Tina
 said as she played with it.  "Would you like to see mine?"

 Tina stood up.  I lay on my back on the bed with my fully hard penis
 making a tent in my pink nightie.  She lifted the hem of the nightie
 to my waist, so she could look at my penis.  She sighed audibly, and
 just stared at it.

 Tina did not strip, but turned her back, and lifted her skirt to
 remove her panties.  Tina faced me again, and raised her skirt to
 expose her own penis.  I got a shock when I saw it.  Tina was hung!

 Tina had nine inches of penis standing straight out from her crotch!
 My own penis throbbed even more when I saw it.  I was horny ever since
 I gave Paul that blow-job.  The sight of Tina's penis made me even
 more so!  I had to touch it, so I reached toward her.  Tina kneeled on
 the bed, and I played with her penis while she played with mine.

 "I want you now!," ordered Tina after a minute.  She grabbed my hips,
 and moved me to a kneeling position with my head down on the pillows.
 Tina reached for the jar of Vaseline on my night stand, and lubricated
 her penis.  She kneeled between my legs, and lifted my nightie to
 expose my bottom.  She caressed it, and then spread my asscheeks to
 position her penis at my anus.

 Tina pressed forward, and pushed the head of her penis into my ass.
 She continued to push until she had run all nine inches of the shaft
 deep into my bowels.  It felt bigger than it looked, but in the state
 I was in, it felt wonderful!  Tina pumped her penis in and out of me,
 and she pumped hard.  Tina made love only one way, and that was full
 out and uninhibited, but she was good at it!

 Tina rammed her penis into me for at least twenty minutes.  I felt
 like I was on fire with her!  She could fuck harder than anyone I ever
 knew!  I could do nothing but press my face into the pillows, and let
 her ride me as she willed.  I glanced into the mirror, and saw her
 fully dressed over me with her head thrown back in ecstasy!  She was a
 wild woman now totally unleashed!

 Tina then gave out a gurgling moan, and her penis throbbed hard within
 me.  I felt the familiar warmth grow deep inside of me, and I knew she
 was cumming, and cumming hard!  Her hot semen filled me up, and she
 fell away from me with some of it glistening on her penis.  I
 stretched out on the bed next to her, and just lay there on my stomach
 sweating and panting, totally spent.

 Tina arose after a moment to get a towel to clean us both off.  Then
 she lay next to me, and took me in her arms for a kiss.  Her hand went
 back to my still hard penis.  I was exhausted, but still with no
 release.  Tina sensed that right away.

 Tina and I lay on the bed in each other's arms while she played with
 my hard penis.  She was still fully dressed except for her panties,
 and I was wearing my pink nightie.  When we had caught our breath,
 Tina stood, and took my hand.  She gently pulled me up to stand with
 her.  She kissed me again, and said, "We have one more matter to
 attend to."  She moved me so that I stood with my back against the
 wall.  "Stay there," she ordered quietly.

 Tina kneeled on the floor in front of me, and raised the hem of my
 nightie.  My penis pointed straight at her face.  She flipped my
 nightie over her head, and took my penis in her mouth.  She sucked it
 in the same manner that she had fucked me earlier, and that was hard
 and fast!  Every couple of strokes Tina would run her tongue around
 the head.  I stiffened against the wall in passion.  I had never had a
 blow-job like this before.  Try as I might to hold back, I could not!
 Tina released the grip of her right hand from my thigh to tickle my
 balls, and I shot the load of cum that had been building all evening
 down her waiting throat!  She swallowed it all, and then licked me
 clean.

 Tina reappeared from beneath the hem of my nightie, and stood up.  I
 was still too dizzy from all that had happened to do anything except
 lean on the wall for support, but I managed to say, "Thank you." Tina
 smiled, and helped me to the bed.  It was after midnight, so I asked
 her to stay the night.  She agreed, and I offered to get her a night
 gown, but she declined.  "I always sleep nude if you don't mind," she
 said.  I just nodded.  I was too spent to get up to get the night gown
 anyway.

 Tina stripped while I watched this time.  Her panties had come off
 long ago, so her bra was the last thing she took off.  She had a very
 good figure for a woman with a nine inch penis who could fuck the way
 she did, but I got another surprise when she removed her bra.  Tina
 had real breasts!  They were not just the smallish "male" breasts that
 Margo and I had, but real female type breasts!

 Tina noticed me staring at them right away, and said, "Do you like
 them?"  She cupped her breasts with her hands to hold them up, so I
 could see they were real.  "Would you like to feel them?," she asked.
 I nodded, and Tina joined me on the bed.  "How big are they?," I asked
 as I touched them.  "They're 36C!," Tina replied.

 I fondled Tina's breasts, and weighed them on my hands.  "How did you
 get them!?," I exclaimed excitedly!  Tina was obviously pleased with
 my attentions to her breasts.  She lay back on the bed, and said,
 "Well, I started with hormone cream, but that wasn't enough, so about
 a year ago I had silicone implants put in.  It only takes three days
 at the hospital."

 I knew then that I had found the next answer to my question of how to
 become more a woman.  Tina said she would give me the name of her
 doctor in the morning.  I would have real breasts at last!  All I had
 to figure out was what to do about my penis.  I wanted to be rid of
 it.  Maybe Tina's doctor would know about that.  I would have to ask
 him.  We drifted off to sleep with me still playing with Tina's
 breasts.

 I woke up the next morning, and looked over at Tina in the bed next to
 me.  She was still asleep, but uncovered, and totally nude.  I could
 not help staring at the way her breasts looked.  I had seen pictures
 of nude women, and I had been to a striptease show a couple of times,
 so I knew what a real woman's breasts should look like.  Tina's looked
 very real!  I had, however, only seen one woman's breasts up this
 close before in my life.

                              = = * = =

 The incident had happened after a party when I graduated from high
 school.  We all had been drinking quite a bit of beer, and out
 inhibitions were down.  There was a girl named Joyce in my class who I
 was friendly with.  I knew that she was interested in me in a more
 than platonic way, but we never actually dated.  We would talk, and go
 shopping together.  I always envied the clothes she wore, and the way
 she looked.  We were more like two girlfriends than anything else.
 She always defended me when the others laughed at me.

 I was standing alone when Joyce took my hand.  "Come with me!," was
 all she said.  She led me to a bedroom, and locked the door behind us.
 She turned to me, and said, "We've always been good friends, and I
 can't stand it when they make fun of you.  Laurie bet me that you are
 a queer, so I have to find out for myself!"  With that she took off
 her blouse, and unhooked her bra!  Her breasts spilled out in front of
 me.  They were big and round like the pictures in the magazines.  I
 wanted them, but not in the way she had hoped.  I wanted them on me!

 "Feel them, damn it!," she ordered!  I reached out to touch them.
 They were heavier than I had expected.  I examined them carefully, but
 a little too clinically for Joyce.  She pulled back with tears welling
 up in her eyes.  "You are queer!," she shrieked, and threw herself on
 the bed crying.  I tried to comfort her, but she would have none of
 it.  "Get out of here, you damned queer!," she screamed!

 I left to find Laurie and another girl in the hall laughing at me. I
 would soon be the laughing stock of the party.  I left the party right
 away.  I was glad that I would not see any of them again!

                              = = * = =

 Tina awoke to find me staring at her.  She smiled and stretched.  "You
 really like them, don't you?," she asked.  I nodded.  I looked further
 down at Tina's nine inch penis.  "Are you going to have the whole
 change?," I asked.  "No," Tina replied.  "I like my cock, but I like
 being a woman too.  It is just a permanent dildo to me, but my doctor
 does that operation too.  You should talk to him about it if you are
 interested."

 Now I wanted the name of that doctor more than ever!  At last I had
 found a way to get rid of this penis of mine that I hated so much. I
 did not care what it took, or what it cost.  I wanted my penis cut
 off!  I wanted to be a woman!

 I got up, and made breakfast for us.  Tina gave me the name of the
 doctor over coffee.  She explained very briefly about how the implant
 operation she had on her breasts went.  It apparently involved an
 incision beneath each breast, so that a plastic bag containing a
 silicone jell could be inserted to lift the "male" breast out from the
 body.  She showed me the hairline scars that the operation left.  They
 were totally unnoticeable unless you were looking for them.  She also
 suggested that I ask the doctor about hormone treatments to help them
 heal, and even grow a little more on their own.  I told her that I
 wanted it done right away.  She laughed, and wished me luck.

 Tina went home after breakfast, but first reminded me about the
 rehearsal on Tuesday.  I assured her that I would not forget.  I tried
 all that day to imagine myself as a chorus girl with real breasts
 jiggling as I danced.  I very much enjoyed the thoughts!


Sub-title: A Day in the Life

The blast of the alarm clock shocked me out of sleep, and into the
earth plane once again.  It was 7:00AM on Monday morning, and I had to
get ready for work.  I really did not want to get up.  I had been
having such a pleasant dream, but the rent had to paid somehow.  I
forced myself awake, and headed toward the bathroom.

I could hear Margo waking up, and lighting a cigarette in the other
bedroom.  It was her turn to fix breakfast, so I could take my time
with getting ready.  She liked to shower after breakfast, so I could
take as long as I wanted.  I stripped off my robe and blue lace
nightie, and stepped into the shower.  The fine needle spray tingled
all over me, and started to wash away the final layers of sleep that
still clouded my mind.

I soaped myself all over playfully squeezing my own breasts while I
washed them.  They were not as big as Tina's breasts, but I would call
her doctor this week, and see what could be done to change that.  I
wanted real breasts so very much.

I had to be gentle with my bottom that morning.  It was still a little
sore from the way Tina had fucked me on Saturday night.  I liked being
fucked.  I also like being fucked hard, but Tina had given my ass quite
a reaming that night.  I would feel it for a while yet.

I took the nozzle of the shower off its hook to rinse myself off.  The
tingling of the spray titillated my nipples, and made them stand erect.
My penis was also growing hard.  I stroked it with my soapy hands, and
it responded to the touch.  I could feel the ghost of a vagina that
lurked behind responding too, and I stroked even harder.  I leaned back
against the tile wall, and brought the nozzle down to spray against the
scrotum and balls that hung beneath.  The feeling was exciting!  I
thought that it was what it would feel like to have someone eating the
pussy that should have been there.  I tried to imagine someone doing
that to me, but the only image that came through was that of Tina doing
it.  Was this what a Lesbian encounter would be like?  I thought of
myself having a sex-change, and being made love to by another woman.
The fantasy took hold, and carried me off.

I stroked harder at my penis.  My breath now came in excited gasps.
All I could see was Tina's head down between my legs with her long hair
billowing out across my thighs.  In my mind she no longer had that huge
cock that had ravaged my asshole on Saturday.  We were two Lesbians
bent on the taste and feel of each other's pussies on our tongues!  I
shook all over at the sheer animal lust of it, and then I felt the
warmth of my semen as it spurted from the tip of my penis, and ran over
my hand.  I shuddered deep inside with my orgasm.  It took a few
moments to catch my breath afterward.

I finished my rinse, and stepped from the shower to towel off.  Margo
knocked at the door.  "Are you going to be in there all morning?," she
asked urgently.  "Breakfast is ready, you have to go to work, and I
have to pee!"  I unlatched the door, and she headed straight to a seat
on the toilet while I wrapped my pink terry-cloth robe about me.  I
tucked my now soft penis between my legs, and went into the kitchen for
breakfast.  It was the start of just another normal day, or was it?

Margo and I talked about my seeing Tina's doctor over breakfast.  She
was supportive, but not overly excited about it.  "If that's what you
want, Bobbi," she admonished me, "then do it, but it's not as easy as
it sounds.  What Tina had done to her breasts with the silicone
implants is simple, but a full sex-change like you seem to want is a
big step.  Just make sure you are making the right decision.  There's
no turning back once you have your cock cut off!"

Margo's last sentence hit me harder than I would have expected it
should have.  I did want to be rid of my penis, but in those terms, the
idea was a shock.  I assured her that I would consider things very
carefully before I made the final and irrevocable decision.  I knew it
was what I wanted, but there was time to think about it anyway.

After breakfast, I went to my room to dress for work.  This was always
my least favorite part of the day.  I hated dressing as a man each
morning.  The men's clothes that I wore might be the most effeminate I
could find, but they were still men's clothes.  They just reminded me
all the more that I was not yet as much a woman as I wanted to be.  At
least I did not have to wear a suit in my job as a stockboy.  I slipped
out of my robe with a sigh, and prepared to get into my male costume
for the daily masquerade.

I started with a pair of blue lace panties.  I might have to wear men's
outer garments, but my underwear was strictly female.  I tucked my
penis back into my crotch between my legs, so that I could still feel
as female as possible no matter what I looked like outwardly.  I topped
my panties with a blue camisole.  Dressed that way, I still looked very
feminine, and I liked that.  I slipped a pair of light-blue socks on my
feet, and started on the clothing that made me look like a passable,
although very effeminate, boy.

I pulled on a pair of very tight jeans.  They still had a very male fly
and zipper, but I had stitched the crotch up a little higher than any
male trousers, and tapered the legs.  They hugged every curve I had.  I
pulled a lightweight, grey, crew-necked sweater over my head for a top,
and stepped into a pair of brown penny-loafers.

I looked at myself in the mirror.  I looked almost, but not quite, like
a girl with my longish hair fluffed out in a unisex style.  I was
letting it grow long, but it was not quite full female length yet.  I
could almost pass as a butch woman, but since most people at work knew
me as a boy, they thought I was just "queer".

I was ready to leave for work except for one last item.  I had just
bought a leather bag with a shoulder strap.  It was not a purse.  It
was more like a small photographer's soft gadget bag.  I purse would
have been an obvious giveaway, but this I could get away with.  A lot
of the "Hippies" carried these, so I could too.  It was even just big
enough for me to put a padded bra, my make-up case, and some jewelry in
the bottom under my wallet and change purse.

Margo had finished her shower, and was sitting in the kitchen having
coffee and a cigarette.  "My, but don't we look nice today!," she said
as I entered the room.  I thanked her as I pulled a light jacket on,
and slung my bag over my right shoulder.  I asked her what she thought
of the bag.  "It looks good," she replied.  "You could pass as a woman
just the way you are now, Bobbi.  If you had make-up on, there would be
no question.  You're very pretty.  You just look like a girl."  That
was what I hoped I would hear.  I said good-bye, and left for work.

Margo and I lived on 46th Street just off 9th Avenue in New York City,
and the Department Store where I worked was at 39th Street and 5th
Avenue.  That was just eleven blocks, so I usually walked.  This
morning was clear, but the mid-September chill was a harbinger that
winter was not far away.  I felt good!  What I wanted most in the world
at that moment was to be a woman, and I was making progress toward that
end.  It did not take me long to get to work.

I made one stop on the way in at a little hole-in-the-wall Coffee Shop
on 39th Street.  I usually stopped there each morning to get a cup of
coffee to go, so I could have it in the stock room when I started work.
I got a very nice smile from the young Puerto Rican boy behind the
counter.  I do not know if he knew whether I was a man or a woman, but
the smile felt nice just the same.  This was starting to be a very good
day.

I went in through the Employee's Entrance, and went to the time clock
room.  I bumped into a man as I entered.  It was Paul!  "Oh, excuse
me," he started, "I didn't see..."  Paul stopped, and stared at me.
"Bob?," he asked.  I nodded, and said, "Yes, good morning!"  A look of
recognition, followed by a smile crossed his face.  I was not sure what
that meant, so I decided to proceed carefully.  "I didn't recognize you
at first," he said.  "You've started looking very different lately.
You look nice, but different."  I thanked him for what I assumed he
meant as a compliment, and punched in.  As I turned to leave, Paul
said, "Err...  Why don't you stop by my office this afternoon?  I have
something I'd like to talk to you about."

I wondered for a moment what he wanted to talk about.  From the way he
was looking at me, I was sure that he had recognized me as the Drag
Queen prostitute that he had bought a blow-job from on Saturday night.
He somehow seemed to like looking at me, though, so he was not angry.
I was confused, but there was only one way to find out what was on his
mind.  "All right," I said as I headed for my department.  "I'll be up
around 2:15PM after lunch."

The Children's Shoes Department was quiet when I arrived.  This was
normal, for I was usually the first one in each morning, but the lights
in the office were already on.  Edith, our departmental secretary, had
come in a little early, so I bid her "Good morning!" in a cheery voice
as I entered.

"Good morning, Bob," she answered, and after looking at my more
effeminate than usual appearance added, "My, but don't you look nice
today!"  Her tome was that of a sincere compliment, and I thanked her
as I sat down at the desk next to her's.  She stared at me for a long
moment, and then said, "Bob, we don't get much chance to just talk.  I
like you very much.  Can I ask you a personal question?"  I looked at
her as I sipped at the coffee that I had brought with me.  I wondered
what was on her mind.  I decided to find out, so I answered, "Sure."

"Bob," Edith began, "you must know that some of the people around you
have noticed a change in your appearance lately.  I think that you look
wonderful, but some of the others have said some things that..." Edith
trailed off, so I jumped in with, "Edith, and you my friend?" My throat
grew tight as I spoke.  I wanted desperately to tell someone all about
the me.  I needed a friend beyond the collection of Drag Queens,
cheating husbands, and petty hangers-on that populated "The Gilded
Grape" who passed for my friends since the rest of the world had cut me
off.  I hoped that Edith would be sympathetic, but I was scared!

"Of course, Bob," Edith replied.  I mustered my courage, and said, "I
only ask that you keep this confidential between just you and I." Edith
agreed, and I confessed, "I am what some people would call Gay.  I have
felt this way for a long time, but only lately I have really begun to
understand all of it.  Most Gay men are content to look and act like
boys, but there is something in me that wants to go beyond that.  I
want..."

Edith stopped me at that point, and surprised me by saying, "You know
you make a better appearance as a girl than a boy anyway.  I know what
you want to do.  I have read enough about it to have a good idea of
what you may be going through.  I don't claim to understand it, but if
that is what this is all about, I'm behind you if you need me."

I was flabbergasted!  The look in Edith's eyes told me that she was
more than sincere in what she was saying.  I knew then that I could
trust her.  I did not know why she was befriending me in the way that
she was, but I did not care.  I had found the friend that I needed so
desperately.  I wanted to talk more, but we could hear the sounds of
some of the others arriving, so we decided to have lunch where we could
discuss things privately.  I looked forward to that lunch all morning.

The rest of the department arrived one by one in their usual Monday
morning stupor.  Every one of them took some notice of my more
effeminate than usual appearance that morning.  The first two bothered
me a little.  Mr. Steinman, the Assistant Buyer, showed some obvious
surprise at it, and gave me only a perfunctory "good morning" in
passing.  Alicia, our would be elegant Sales Assistant, gave me a look
of cold disdain, and said nothing.  That was their problem, I thought,
and went out to the stock room to start my work.

I ran into Dave, our other Sales Assistant, and my one time friend in
philosophical discussions, on his way in out there.  He looked me over
carefully, and bid me a cheerier "Good morning!" than had been his wont
of late.  He smiled at me, and added, "You look very nice this
morning," as he headed for the office.  Maybe he had come to terms with
the way I now was.  I hoped so.  I liked having him as a friend.

Last to arrive was Mrs. Adams, our Sales Supervisor.  I met her as I
was making my morning rounds of checking the displays on the sales
floor.  "Good morning, err... Bob?," she said as she passed.  "My, but
don't we look pretty today!"  She was always full of sarcastic comments
like that for everyone.  I said "good morning," but tried to take
little notice of her.  It was just not worth it.

The rest of that morning passed uneventfully.  I thought quite a bit
about the reactions I had gotten to my appearance.  Over all, it was
more toward the positive side.  Those who did not know me reacted as if
I were somehow really female.  Those who did know me were split in
their reactions, but the one's who meant something in my life leaned to
the positive side.  I knew that I could pass as a woman while all done
up in high Drag Queen glamor.  It also seemed that I could do the same
in ordinary street clothes, and no make-up.  Now I had three things to
look forward to that day.  There would be lunch with Edith, the talk in
Paul's office, and getting into my bra, make-up, and jewelry to see how
that worked on the way home!

"Are you ready to go?  It's almost noon!," Edith startled me with her
words in the quiet stock room.  I was not wearing a watch, and I had
forgotten about the time.  "I just have to get my jacket and bag!," I
answered quickly as I hurried off to fetch them.  A few minutes later
we were sliding into seats in a booth at the Coffee Shop down the
street.  Edith looked at me with a strange twinkle in her eye.  I would
soon find out why.

We made some small talk to start, and then Edith said, "Bob, how far do
you want to go with this?"  I was both surprised and pleased at the
frankness of her question.  Her look told me that she would be
sympathetic to whatever I had to tell her even if I did not yet know
why she was being so open with me about it.  I proceeded to tell her my
story.

"Edith," I began, "I told you this morning that I was Gay.  That isn't
quite the truth.  I was born a boy, but I have never felt like one all
my life.  A Gay man is attracted to other men.  I'm attracted to men,
but in the way that a woman is attracted to a man.  My feelings and
emotions are also those of a woman, and not a man.  It took me a long
time to realize it all, but I'm more female than male, and I'm going to
be the woman that I really am.  I'm already living as a woman except
for this job, and I'm looking for the first chance I get to change that
too."

I stopped to take a sip of water, and then continued, "The last part is
the surgical operations to finish the job, and I'm eventually going to
have that done too!  That is who I am."  I sat back when I finished my
story to see Edith's reaction.  She smiled, and said, "That's what I
had hoped you would say."

"Bob," Edith said.  I interrupted her to say, "If you really accept
 what I am, call me 'Bobbi'.  I spell it with an 'i', but most people
think it is the male nickname with a 'y' when they hear it."  She
chuckled at this.  "All right," she said, "Bobbi, there's something
about you that I'm very drawn to.  Please don't think I am being silly
when I tell you why."  I assured her that she did not even have to tell
me, but she insisted.  I was just happy to have her as an understanding
friend.

"There has always been something about you," Edith began, "that has
felt strangely familiar to me.  I couldn't tell until the 'change' in
your appearance what it was, but I felt it all the same.  When you
started letting your hair grow, and dressing like that, I saw more
clearly what I had been looking at, but not quite seeing all along.
Let me show you what I mean."

Edith reached into her purse, and took out an old wallet.  Just then
the waitress appeared at our table.  "What'll it be, ladies!," she said
snapping her gum as she took our order.  Edith and I smiled at each
other in silence.  I had passed another test.  The mouthy New York City
waitress had seen me as a woman, and nothing less.  If I ever needed
proof of what was meant to be, I had it now.  There was, from that
instant, never another question about any of it in my mind.

The waitress brought our meals, and as we ate, Edith returned to the
wallet.  She opened it to an old photograph, and handed it to me.  It
was the picture of a young woman of about my age.  She was dressed in
clothing that looked old-fashioned, but in keeping with the apparent
age of the photo.  As I examined it more closely, I saw something more.
I began to see a marked resemblance to me!  It was by no means my
double, but the woman in the picture could have passed as a sister.  I
remarked about this to Edith, and she nodded knowingly.

"That picture, Bobbi," Edith said at length, "is me about twenty-seven
years ago."  Edith looked wistful for a moment, and then spoke again.
"It was taken," she said, "just before I left Estonia with my mother.
We went first to England, and lived there for about nine years all
during World War II.  While we were there, I met a young R.A.F.
Lieutenant, and fell in love."  Edith's voice grew dreamy, and she
paused for a private thought.  Then she continued, "He was killed in a
raid over Germany in 1944, but we had been a little indiscreet in our
affections, and I bore him a daughter."

Edith's mood grew more serious, and I was sure I could see tears
welling up behind her eyes.  "I was determined to keep her," she said
with a catch in her voice, "no matter what my mother or the authorities
said, and I did!  We had three years together.  The details of this
really don't matter.  The only important thing in my mind was to keep
us together, but at the end of those three years, she caught Scarlet
Fever, and died."  A small lonely tear slid gently down Edith's cheek.
She looked off into the distance, and we finished eating in silence.

Edith regained her composure as we sipped at coffee after lunch.  She
picked up the story saying, "After that, my mother and I left England,
and came here in 1948."  She paused for a minute, and looked at me with
an embarrassed look.  She continued sheepishly, "Now comes the silly
part, and please, Bobbi, don't think me crazy, but my daughter would
have been just about your age by now.  Since you already resemble me at
that age, I have an idea that she would have looked a lot like you by
now, and I have always wondered what it would be like if she were still
here.  I know it sounds a little insane, but I could almost think of
you as a daughter.  Can you understand that somehow?"  Edith gave me a
hopeful, but worried look, and sat back in her seat.

It is difficult to describe how I felt at that moment.  Edith, my
friend, had just explained to me how she not only accepted me as the
woman that I was trying so desperately to become, but also could see me
in that role as her daughter.  Maybe this was, after all, New York City
where the otherwise out of the ordinary passes for a normal and mundane
life, but this was not something that one would expect out of a quiet
luncheon conversation with a friend under any circumstances.  I sipped
my coffee, and thought.

It fit, however, the pattern of the rest of my life.  I have long
seemed to have the nine lives of a cat.  If ever I loose something from
my life, the universe replaces it with something else that is better
adapted to help me in the situations that are about to come.  When I
had all but lost my masculinity, it gave me Margo, and a new feminine
life.  When I had lost most of my friends, it gave me Tina, and the
promise of new friends.  My family had deserted me, and now the
universe was giving me Edith, and the hope that this was all going to
work out in the way that it should.  I decided to accept the universe's
latest offer.

I looked at Edith, and smiled as broad and loving a smile as I could at
her.  I touched her arm, and said, "I do understand, and I don't think
it's silly or crazy at all.  I guess we both will just have to accept
each other for what we are."  Edith grinned, and patted me on the hand
in a motherly sort of way.  We had formed a bond that day that would
last a very long time.

It was getting late, so we hurried back to the store.  We made a lot of
small talk on the way back, and Edith wanted to talk some more after
work.  I wanted that too.  I wanted to get into my bra, and get some
make-up on, so she could see me that way too.  I did, however, have to
see Paul at 2:15PM, so I told her that we would have to wait until
after that before we made any plans.  I still had no idea of what he
wanted, or what would happen.

Even with rushing as much as we could, Edith and I were a few minutes
late getting back from lunch.  We were made aware of this by the stare
that we got from Mr. Conlin, the Buyer, as we entered the office.  He
expressed his displeasure with anything through a look rather than
words.  He was one of the easiest people to get along with that I have
ever met, so a look of displeasure was about as far as things usually
went unless you did something really horrible.

Mr. Conlin looked me over pretty well through that look of momentary
displeasure.  He focused especially on my new hair style, and the bag
that I carried as a "purse" for the first time that day.  His eyes
gradually changed from the displeasure that was in them to become
filled with what I judged to be approval of my appearance, and his
mouth took on a wry smile.  Mr. Conlin was not married, and for a
variety of reasons, I had suspected that he might be secretly Gay.  The
knowing nod that he gave me as he turned to go into his office told me
both that he was Gay, and that he did not disapprove of what I was
doing.  This made me feel a lot better about my position with him.  I
might not like having a "male" job, but at least I knew that in he and
Edith, I had friends of a sort there.

The next hour or so went quickly enough, but I spent most of it
wondering what would happen at my meeting with Paul.  I was positive
that he knew who I was.  I just did not know what, if anything, he was
going to do about it.  I might not really like this job, but I did need
it for now.

The clock on the wall of the reception area of the Personnel Department
showed 2:15PM as I approached the door to Paul's office.  To say that I
was nervous would have been a gross understatement.  I think I knew
that someday my old life as a man would come into contact with my new
life as a woman, but I did not think it would happen this soon.  I
knocked on the door, and heard Paul call, "Come in!," from within.

Paul's office was rather plain.  He sat behind a standard metal desk in
front of which were two chairs.  He motioned for me to sit in one of
them.  The only other furniture was a file cabinet, and an old sofa
that I supposed was there in case he needed to hold a meeting in his
office.  I fantasized that it might have other uses too, and double as
a sort of "casting couch" for any "special" interviews that he might do
in his job as an Assistant Personnel Manager.

Paul looked at me for a long minute, and then opened a file folder on
his desk saying, "I've been looking through your record with us, and
it's good.  Oh, nothing out of the ordinary, but good anyway." He
leaned back in his chair, and looked me over again.  Then he said, "I
don't want to see anything bad go into your record, but this company
does have rules."  He shook his head, and started writing something on
a pad.  I shifted uneasily in my chair.  What did he mean?

"If you mean the long hair," I blurted nervously, "I didn't think it
would be a problem, but..."  Paul put up his hand to interrupt me, and
said, "No, it's not your hair."  He chuckled a bit, and continued.  "I
was referring to your, err... moonlighting?"  He sat back again, and
said, "I think you remember our little meeting last Saturday evening."

I swallowed hard.  He had recognized me!  A thousand thoughts raced
through my head.  There was obviously something more on his mind, or he
would have just put something in my file to make things difficult for
me here.  Then I realized that I had as much on him as he had on me.
Paul was married.  He even had a photograph of his wife on the desk.
The story of how he had purchased a blow-job from a transvestite
prostitute was one that he would not want made public.  There had to be
something more.

Paul leaned forward, and spoke again.  "You make a very pretty girl,
err... Bobbi.  Much too pretty in fact to be working as a stockboy.
You need a friend.  You need a friend who might be able to help you
over the, err... rough spots."

Paul stood, and walked over to the window.  "Look at yourself!," he
said.  "Even now, in those clothes, you strike me as more of a girl
than a boy."  He turned to face me from where he stood, saying, "You
know, I thought you looked familiar the other night, but I didn't know
why until this morning.  Please believe me when I say that I want to
help you.  I am your friend.  I like you very much, and I want you to
like me."

I still was not sure what Paul was driving at, but I calmed down a bit.
Having a "friend" like him could have its advantages, but I was sure
that there was still more to this than just a simple friendship.  I sat
up straight in as ladylike way as possible, and said sweetly, "I do
like you, Paul, and I'm sorry if you think I deceived you the other
evening.  I need this job right now until I can figure out a way to
live like the woman that I am.  I guess that I could use a friend like
you."  I was baiting him a little, but it was not completely a lie.  I
wondered what I would have to do to be the sort of "friend" he wanted.

Paul crossed the room, and sat on the edge of the desk in front of me.
"I have a friend," he said, "who needs some models for a line of coats.
Have you ever thought of modeling?"  He leaned closer to me, and
continued, "I could see that you get one of the jobs, part-time of
course, if you were my friend, and we wouldn't even think of it as
moonlighting."  He touched my cheek with the side of his index finger,
and leered at me.

Paul ran his finger along my chin in a very provocative way.  I was
getting the idea of what he meant about our being friends.  I looked
into his eyes.  There was no malice in them.  He was living a fantasy,
and I was it.  He did not want to hurt me.  All he really wanted out of
this was a mistress for a little fun away from his wife, and he was
willing to help me in return.  The offer of a real modeling job was
tempting.  I decided to play along.

"What's the deal?," I asked with my prettiest smile.  Paul stood up,
and explained.  "I enjoyed being with you on Saturday night.  I thought
that maybe, if I helped you, we could have some more, err...  fun
together once in a while.  The job offer is real.  It's yours if you
want it.  Are we friends?"

I stood to face him.  I liked the idea of being a sort of "kept woman"
a lot.  I put my arms around his neck, and kissed him.  "We're
friends," I whispered in his ear.  He wrapped his arms around my waist,
and we kissed again, and allowed our tongues to meet in the process.
Paul could kiss very well indeed!  "Do you want me now?," I asked.
"Yes!," he answered with a quaver in his voice.  Now it was his turn to
be nervous.  "Lock the door," I said.  "We don't want any interrup-
tions, do we?"

Paul went to the door, and quietly locked it.  I pulled my sweater over
my head, and slipped out of my jeans.  When he turned around I was
standing by the sofa in just my camisole and panties.  His eyes got
very big when he looked at me.  "We don't have enough time for much
more than happened on Saturday night, but we'll have more time some
evening later this week.  Why don't you sit down here where you'll be
more comfortable?"

Paul walked over, and kissed me again.  Our tongues fenced for a moment
as we tasted each other's feelings.  Then he sat on the sofa, and
looked up at me.  "You really are a very beautiful woman in or out of
your clothes."  He was sincere in what he was saying.  Paul did not, as
I found out as time went on, consider himself Gay.  He never thought of
any man as a sexual partner unless that man was wearing a dress.  It
was a little lie that he told himself to keep his phsyche together, and
his machismo intact.  It hurt no one.  If he wanted me to be all the
woman I could be for him, that was just fine with me.  I rather liked
the idea of being his mistress.

I dropped to my knees in front of him.  My hands reached to the buckle
of his belt, and unhooked it.  Paul got a broad smile on his face.  He
settled back to leave me to do what I did best.  It took but a minute,
with little movement on his part, to have his trousers down around his
ankles.  I could see the outline of his hard cock straining against the
fabric of his underpants.  I gave a tug at the elastic waistband, and
it was there pointing straight at my face.  I needed no further
invitation.

I opened my mouth wide, and took the length of the shaft almost to the
back of my throat.  My lips wrapped tightly around it, and I felt its
warmth on my tongue.  Paul's cock tasted good, and felt even better.  I
have given up counting the number of cocks that I have had in my mouth,
but his was one of the best.  I wanted to keep it in there for a long
time, but we did not have the luxury of that.  All I could do then was
give him a quick blow-job.

Expertly I worked Paul's cock in and out of my mouth.  In his state of
excitement at finally having found his mistress, he seemed ready to pop
when my tongue first touched the tip of his cock.  I took a quick look
up to his face to see his head thrown back, and his eyes closed in
ecstasy.  Just then I felt the semen slowly flowing out of him the way
it always did.  It filled my mouth, and it took three swallows to get
it all down inside of me.  I let his cock fall from my mouth as I
savored the last drop.  We looked into each other's eyes.  We had both
found something that we wanted.

I slid up onto the sofa next to Paul after giving him his blow-job.  He
put his arm around me, and we kissed once again.  This kiss had less
sexual fire and passion in it, but more true affection for each other.
I never fell in love with Paul, nor he with me, but we did feel a
mutual affection all the time we were together.  I needed that.  I had
a whole new life to build from the ground up, and any help I could get
was welcome.  Paul would give me more help than I knew at that moment.

I lingered in his arms for a little while, and then said softly, "We
should get back to work."  Paul stretched a little, and nodded.  He got
up quickly, and in another moment had pulled up his pants and under-
pants, so that he was dressed again.  He went to sit on the edge of his
desk to watch me dress.  Paul liked watching me dress and undress.  I
think that he got almost as much out of that as he did out of having
sex with me.

It was a simple matter for me to get dressed, but I stretched it out as
much as I could for Paul's benefit.  I posed a little in just my
camisole and panties for him before I started.  He liked that.  I do
not know what it was about my body that turned him on so much, but
Paul's cock would get hard if he just thought about me stripping for
him.  His cock was hard again now from just looking at me, and I was
not dressed very attractively.

I stepped into my jeans, and adjusted my penis back between my legs
into my crotch.  Then I pulled my sweater over my head, and fluffed
my hair back into place.  Paul looked at me with a happy smile, and
said, "Wait just a minute while I make a phone call."  He picked up
the receiver, and dialed an outside line.

"Hello, Jack?," Paul said into the telephone.  "I've got a girl for
you...  Yes, she's got the look that you wanted...  Sure...  No...
No, this is the first time she's ever modeled...  Oh, about five foot
six...  Right!  That's what I told you...  Any time you want her to
start...  Her name's Bobbi...  I'll give her a note from me to you as
an intro...  No!...  Okay...  Next week?...  All right...  Yeah, see
you Friday...  Bye."

Paul hung up the telephone, and wrote something on a piece of paper.
He tore the sheet off the pad, and put it in an envelope, but did not
seal it.  He wrote a name, address, and telephone number on the
envelope along with a day, date, and time, and held it out to me.

"The name on it," Paul said as I took the envelope, "is my friend Jack.
He's the one who needs the models.  Be at that address next Tuesday at
11:00AM just like I wrote there, and give him the note.  It's an,
err... introduction from me.  Look good, and you've got the job."  I
jumped up, and hugged him around the neck like an excited schoolgirl!
This would be my first real job as a woman!  I was beside myself with
elation!  I kissed Paul in gratitude.  He could have asked me for
absolutely anything at that instant, and I would have given it to him.

"Now, Bobbi," Paul said very seriously as he held me back to try to
calm me down, "I'm taking a big chance with you.  Jack thinks that you
are all woman, and he's used to working with models.  He also does not
know that I like, err... girls like you.  He's expecting a woman, and
nothing less.  I wouldn't send you to him if I didn't think that you
could do the job.  He wants to try this with some non-professional
models for a different look, so you don't have to worry about not
knowing how a model is supposed to act.  Just act like a woman!  Don't
let me down!"  I calmed down a lot as the reality of all of this surged
over me.

This was not some Drag Show at "The Gilded Grape" that I was going to
do.  This was a woman's modeling assignment.  They did not want
professional models.  They thought that with just ordinary girls they
would get a fresh look, but they did want real women.  I would have to
look and act my best.  Who knows?  Maybe there could be more modeling
jobs from this one.  That would suit me just fine.  This would be the
biggest test yet.  I had to pass it no matter what I had to do to do
it.  Paul was counting on me, and I was counting on me.  The rest of my
life could depend on this.

"You should be getting back to your department," Paul said as I calmed
down from the excitement of getting the modeling job.  He was right.
It was quarter past three, and I had been gone for over an hour.  A
thought hit me, and I said, "Tuesday isn't my day off.  How can I get
to the modeling interview?"  Paul smiled, and said, "I told you that
you needed a friend like me.  I'll call your Buyer, and get your day
changed for next week.  I'll also tell him that we were having a,
err... job enrichment conference, and I lost track of the time.  That
way you won't get into any trouble.  Okay?"

I kissed Paul again as I left.  Having a friend like him was worth it.
I gave him my address and telephone number, so that he could get in
touch with me when he needed to.  After all, a man had to have access
to his mistress.  I walked back to the Children's Shoes Department on a
cloud.  I had found two friends that day who would be very important to
me as time went on.  What else could happen today?

Back at the department, Edith was still interested in spending some
time together after work.  I wanted to do that too.  I wanted to tell
my new found mother about Paul, and the modeling job.  I was not sure
if I would tell her everything that Paul and I had done.  After all,
what girl would tell her mother that she had given the boss a blow-job?
There were just some things that were not done.  We decided to go for a
walk, and do some shopping after work.

Before I knew it, it was 5:00PM, and time to leave.  Edith met me in
the hallway, and we left together.  She wanted to walk and shop, but I
suggested that we stop for a coffee first.  I had something that I
wanted to do before we went any further.  We slid into a booth in the
Coffee Shop, and ordered coffee.  I excused myself to go to the Ladies
Room.

I stepped into a stall in the Ladies Room, and pulled off my sweater. I
fished in my bag for the bra that I had put in there this morning.  I
took off my camisole, slipped my arms into the straps of the blue pad-
ded bra, and hooked it behind me.  It felt good.  I had missed that
feeling all day as I always did.  There was just something about
wearing a bra that made me feel really female.  Men's clothing just did
not have the same feel as women's, and the feel of a bra with its cups,
straps, and hooks was the most female of that feeling.  I could never
be a "Women's Libber" in any way.  I liked wearing a bra too much to
burn it.

I put my sweater back on over my bra, and stuffed my camisole down into
my bag.  I took out some jewelry from my bag, and snapped a pendant on
a gold chain around my neck.  I clipped a pair of matching earrings on
my lobes.  A couple of bangle bracelets on my wrists completed the
look, and I was ready to face the world again, but this time as a
little more woman than before.  This was a scene that I would play out
in this Ladies Room many times in future.  The people who ran the
Coffee Shop just thought that I liked unwinding with their coffee each
night.  If they only knew why I really came in here.

I left the stall, and went over to the sinks to do my make-up.  My
mascara and eye-shadow went on quickly, and a little powder and blush
brought out the peaches and cream of my cheeks.  The mouthy waitress
from lunch came in, and hardly looked at me as she went to a stall to
pee.  There was no question of my femininity.  I was now a woman, and
that was that.  I applied some pale red lipstick, and returned to
Edith.

"Wow!," Edith exclaimed when I got back to the booth.  "You look great!
I thought that you looked good before, but now.  Just look at you!"  I
thanked her for all the compliments, and we paid our check and left.
We walked up 5th Avenue, and looked in all of the shops.  We got more
than our share of looks from the male passers-by, and the fact that
they were mostly looking at me was not lost on Edith.  "You certainly
turn more than your share of heads!," she said after a few blocks.  I
just smiled.

We talked about a lot of things that day.  I told her about Paul, and
while I did not say exactly what happened, I think that she got the
idea that he and I were more than just platonic friends.  She read
between the lines of what I was saying.  Mothers are like that.  They
always seem to know.  Edith suggested that I be careful with what was
going on there.  She did not want to see me get hurt, and I was
grateful for that.  I needed someone to care about me the way that she
did.

After about two hours of walking, Edith told me that she would like for
me to meet her mother who still lived with her, but that it was a
little too soon tonight.  The older woman was not able to do much for
herself, so Edith had to do most of the things around the house.  She
would have to leave me soon to go home to get dinner for he mother. I
understood that.  We would have many other times together in future.
We parted company until I would see her at work in the morning.

I walked a bit on my own for a while after she left.  I needed to think
things out.  A lot had happened today, and it was just a bit over-
whelming.  I had a new mother, a new boyfriend, and maybe a new job,
and it was a job as a woman!  Things were happening just the way that I
wanted them to.  I said a silent prayer that they would continue to do
so.

I got home at about 8:30PM.  Margo was not at home.  She was probably
at "The Gilded Grape" turning tricks, and getting drunk.  That is where
she usually was at this time of day if she was not at home.  I toyed
with the idea of going out to see her, and telling her about all that
had gone on today, but decided not to.  She would not listen very well
through the alcoholic haze that was probably forming around her by now,
and I did not need the touch of gloom and doom that she always tinged
he words with to dampen my spirits tonight.

I stripped off all my clothes, and put on my pink lace nightie.  I
wanted to feel as feminine as I could tonight.  I watched television
for a while, and went to bed about 10:30PM.  Visions of what would go
on during the next week pranced through my mind.  Tomorrow was my first
rehearsal with the "G.G.Girls" chorus line, the next day I was going to
call Tina's doctor about getting me some real breasts, on Friday I
would be going to see the dancing teacher that Tina had recommended,
and next Tuesday I had an interview as a model.  It would be quite a
week.  This had been quite a day.


Sub-title: Boy Meets Girl

The next morning was a busy one for me.  Mr. Conlin was at the showing
of a new line of shoes with Mr. Steinman.  That left just Edith and I
in the office and stockroom area with all the Sales Assistants out of
the way on the sales floor.  I had a few telephone calls to make, so
Edith let me use Mr. Conlin's office where I could have some privacy.
I was too nervous about the calls to use a telephone booth, and I could
not make them from home in the evening.  The people I had to talk with
would not be there.

I took the two business cards that Tina had given me out of my bag, and
placed them on the desk in front of me.  They both represented big
steps in my life.  The results of those two calls would tell me a lot
about what was going to happen to me as a woman in future.  One was a
little step.  That was the call to the dancing school about lessons.
Maybe that could be a way to a career.  I would like that, but it was
too early to predict such things.  The other was really a big step.
That was the call to the doctor.

I stared at the cards for a few minutes, and agonized over making the
calls.  This was not something to be taken lightly.  Up until now
becoming a woman was still in the realm of fantasy.  Most of my life to
that point had been spent as a boy.  I had wanted to be a girl for a
number of years, but the actual fact of being a girl had been a part-
time thing for only the last three of my eighteen years, and I had only
started living as a woman for two months!

This meant that my life as a boy and my life as a girl had really been
two separate entities.  These telephone calls would start the process
of bringing my two lives together.  Boy was about to meet girl inside
of me, and they were a little terrified at the prospect of the
encounter.

I took a deep breath, and reached for the receiver.  I started to dial
the doctor's number, but decided to call the dancing school first
instead.  I needed to ease into this.  The school was less threatening.

The telephone rang at least ten times before a deep voice that sounded
vaguely female answered sharply, "Stage Door Dance Academy!  This is
Toni."  It was the owner of the school who Tina had told me about.
"Yes," I said.  "I wanted to ask about dancing lessons.  A friend of
yours named Tina recommended that I speak to you."

Toni's voice got a little softer, and said, "That's a good start on a
reference.  Are you a novice, or have you had some training?" I
replied, "I'm a beginner.  Tina wants me in her chorus line, so we
thought that I could use some instruction.  My name is Bobbi, and I
guess I should tell you that I am also a TV."  Toni chuckled at that,
and said, "I figured that when you said you knew Tina.  That's not a
problem.  Just come as a girl, and we'll train you the same way.  I've
got a class starting on Friday at 6:00PM.  The class lasts two hours,
and the fee is twenty dollars a class."

I agreed, so Toni took my name, and told me what I would need to bring
with me to the class.  I already had all of it with what Tina had me
buy as rehearsal clothes.  Toni added, "The classes will be every
Friday evening after that except when we close for vacation.  We'll see
you Friday, luv!"  I said good-bye, and hung up the telephone.  I had
taken the little step.

With a little, but not much, more confidence, I picked up the telephone
again, and prepared to take the big step.  This time it rang only twice
before a businesslike female voice answered, "Dr. Benjamin's office." I
was breathing quickly, and my heart was pounding as I said, "I want to
speak to the doctor about..."  I hesitated, and then said, "...sex
change surgery."

It was out now.  I expected a little surprise from the voice on the
other end of the line, but it was very matter of fact in saying, "The
doctor is only accepting a limited number of new cases.  I can give you
a thirty minute consultation one week from Wednesday.  It will cost
fifty dollars."  It all sounded very mechanical but I made the appoint-
ment, and hung up.  I was on my way toward the goal that I had set, but
I was more than a little scared.

I sat back in Mr. Conlin's chair.  The indifference of the doctor's
receptionist was not what I had expected, nor was Toni's quick
acceptance of me.  I guess I was falling into the trap of believing
that I was the only one in the world like me.  A lot of transexuals
have that problem.  They think that their situations are unique, and
miss a lot of acceptance, support, and help because of it.  There was a
part of the world out there that was willing to accept me for who I
was.  I was only starting to get in touch with it.

There was another business card in my bag bearing a number that I had
been meaning to call for quite a while.  I decided to try it now, and
see what would happen.  The telephone had barely rung when a voice
said, "Shapiro and Tobin!"  I put on my sexiest voice, and said,
"Hello.  Is Peter available?"  "Just a moment!," came a cheerful reply.
I wondered if he would remember me.

I had met Peter on my first night in drag two months ago.  We had
danced one dance at "The Gilded Grape" that night, and he had given me
his business card asking that I call him.  The card showed that he
worked in a law office, so I supposed that he was a lawyer.

"Hello?  This is Pete.  May I help you?," said Peter's voice after a
few seconds.  "Peter," I said as sexy as I could, "this is Bobbi.  We
met at 'The Gilded Grape' a few weeks ago, and you asked me to call."
There was a short pause before he exclaimed, "Bobbi!  I was wondering
if you were ever going to call me.  I haven't been into the bar, or I
would have looked for you there.  When can I see you?"

I got very excited by his reaction.  I had only seen him for an hour or
so that night, but I liked what I saw.  He was young, and had a fresh
out of college look.  I suppose that now we would have said that he
looked like a "Yuppie", but that term had not coined yet.  I only knew
that he was very handsome, and that I really wanted to see him again.

Peter wanted to see me that week, but things were already a little
chaotic for me.  We made a tentative date for Saturday night, and
exchanged home telephone numbers to be able to confirm the date later
in the week.  We talked for a while, and I found out that he was
working as a Legal Clerk in his uncle's law firm until he passed his
bar exam.  He had only gotten out of law school earlier that year.  He
was not a lawyer yet, but he was going to be one.

After the talk, I said good-bye to Peter, and sat back in the chair
again.  My new life as a woman was taking shape in an interesting way.
Three months before I was an ungainly teenage boy sneaking time to
dress as a girl in my mother's clothes.  Now I was living almost full-
time as a woman with a good prospect of making that more real in the
future.  I had also become a sort of "kept woman", almost a chorus
girl, and maybe a model, and had acquired a new "mother", some friends
who accepted me as the woman that I was, and perhaps in Peter, a boy-
friend along the way.  My lifestyle had changed quite a bit to say the
least.  I liked where it seemed to be going.

My break was over, so I collected my things into my bag, and went to
the outer office.  Edith was out there at her typewriter, and she
looked up as I came out of Mr. Conlin's office.  She sat back, and
said. "Well?  How did it go?"  "Well enough," I answered.  "I'll tell
you all about it at lunch."  She nodded, and went back to typing as I
returned to the stockroom.

I ran into Dave out there, and said "hello" to him.  He looked at me
for a moment, and then said, "Could we talk a little later?  We used to
talk a lot, and I feel bad that we stopped.  I just need to understand
a few things."  "Sure," I answered.  "We can talk on break this after-
noon."  He nodded, and went back to the sales floor.  Maybe he did want
to be friendly again.  I would find out this afternoon.

Lunch with Edith that day was a flutter of girlish chatter.  I told her
all about the rehearsal of "The G.G.Girls" chorus line that I was going
to in the evening, and how I was signing up for dancing lessons.  Edith
even asked if she could come to one of the shows sometime, and watch
me.  I was a little surprised that she would want to do that.  I guess
I thought that what went on at "The Gilded Grape" was something that
those in the "outside world" would not want to get involved in.  I told
her that I did not think that it would be a problem, and we would do it
once I got settled into the show.

I then told her about Paul, and how I had called Peter.  I told her all
about them except for the details of the sexual parts.  A girl does not
tell her "mother" everything right away.  Just her knowing that I had
two boyfriends was enough for now, and I was sure that she surmised the
other things.  Edith was no prude in any way.

Edith was a bit uneasy when I told her about the doctor.  She looked at
me deeply, and said, "I just don't want anything to happen to you.  I
think of you in the way I would think of my daughter.  That emotion is
very real to me.  If you must go through with this, let me be with
you."  I knew, of course, how Edith felt about me, but I had not
expected any emotion of this strength.  I touched her arm, and said, "I
would like that.  I think I'm going to need someone to lean on some-
times."  "I'm here whenever you need me," she said.  I really did have
a mother in her. and in future, I would need one!

Later that afternoon I was sitting in the work area at the back of the
stockroom.  This was where we fixed things, and stored a few simple
tools.  I was usually the only one who went back there.  It had an old
wooden desk that we used for a workbench, and a beat up office chair.
I guess it was the closest thing that I had to an office of my own.  I
sometimes took my breaks back there if I wanted to just be alone, and
think.  I would have liked to have done that today.  I had a lot on my
mind from the telephone calls that I made that morning.  I was about,
however, to have a visitor.

I heard Dave's footsteps on the linoleum covered concrete floor as he
approached.  He had asked for this talk, so I had no idea of what he
wanted.  He stepped into the work area bearing a small white bag.  He
greeted me, and placed the bag on the desk saying, "I felt like a soda,
so I went to the cafeteria to get some.  I brought one for you too."  I
think he meant it as a sort of peace offering.  Dave thought along
those lines.  Whatever he had to say, he was showing that he was still
my friend.

We each took a sip of soda, and Dave said, "I have been doing a lot of
thinking, and I need to ask you three questions.  Please just answer
'yes' or 'no' for now, and leave any discussion for later."  I agreed,
and Dave said, "Are you Gay?"  "Yes," I answered.  Dave nodded, and
said, "Are you a transvestite?"  "Yes," I answered.  Dave paused, and
at last asked, "Do you want to be a transexual?" "Yes!," I answered!

Dave sat back on a pile of boxes, and spoke softly, but directly
saying, "Bob..."  "Call me 'Bobbi' as long as you know, please?," I
interrupted.

Dave adjusted himself, and said, "Bobbi, I want you to know that I
understand more about this than you know.  I know that what you are
going to do will not be easy, but your doing it gives me a problem.
All the others here have noticed the change in you.  They whisper that
you are 'queer', and I cannot have that association with me.  No matter
what I may feel along those lines, I have a need to appear straight in
all ways.  I like you very much in ways that you may never know, but we
just cannot appear to be friends here.  Please do not say anything now.
If we meet outside of work in a social situation, we may talk, but not
here."

Dave stood, and walked over to me.  He bent to kiss me on the cheek,
and said, "Good-bye, Bobbi."  Then he left.  I sipped at my soda, and
tried to understand what had just happened.

Dave and I had talked about homosexuality in the context of his studies
of philosophy many times.  It was all very intellectual.  I had never
suspected him of being Gay himself, and yet it certainly seemed like
that was what he was trying to tell me.  If he was Gay, he was trying
desperately to hide it from anyone.  He could not associate with me
without throwing suspicion on himself.  He even seemed that he was
trying to say that he was sexually attracted to me.  Why else would he
kiss me the way that he did?  I would, if only out of friendship,
respect his wishes, but I wanted to talk more to him.  He had given me
a lot more to think about.

I went directly home after work.  I was very excited about going to my
first rehearsal of "The G.G.Girls" chorus line, and I wanted to get
ready.  This was going to be fun.  I was looking forward to seeing
Tina, so I could tell her that I had signed up for the dancing lessons
as she had suggested.  Margo was not at home.  She was still at work,
but I knew I would see her later.  She went to "The Gilded Grape"
almost every night.

It only took me a few minutes to remove my camisole, and put on my bra.
I was going to just go in my jeans, but this was going to be a sort of
special occasion.  I also changed from my jeans, sweater, and loafers
into a skirt, blouse, and heels.  I wanted to look my best tonight, and
I did not know whom I might meet after rehearsal.

I was very excited about all this.  I picked up my purse, and slung the
canvas bag that carried my rehearsal clothes on my shoulder.  In a few
minutes I was on the street walking the few blocks to "The Gilded
Grape" on my way to becoming a chorus girl.

As I walked up the street I noticed two men walking toward me.  They
were nicely dressed, and I saw that they were looking me over as they
approached.  I slipped a little wiggle and sway into the motion of my
hips as I walked, and one responded with a very appreciative smile as
we passed.  I walked on, but I heard them stop, and turn to watch me as
I walked away.  I always enjoy when little things like that happen.
They had seen me as a desirable and sexy woman.  That is exactly what I
wanted to be.  They were paying me a compliment in a way that they
would never realize.  I felt very good deep inside.

It was quiet in "The Gilded Grape" when I entered.  It would get more
active later.  Even on Tuesday nights things happened here, but this
early in the evening very little was going on.  I took a seat at the
front bar, and ordered a coke from Edie, the barmaid.  I did not want
to drink tonight.

I noticed that the back section of the club was closed off.  That was
where the stage was, and where Emma tended the back bar.  Emma was off
on Tuesdays, and I guessed that the back was closed so we could
rehearse.  I sipped at my soda, and waited for Tina to arrive.

Another drag queen sat on the stool next to me.  "Hi!," she said.  "My
name is Billie, and you're Bobbi, right?"  I said "yes", and she
continued talking without stopping.  "Tina said to look for you.  She's
gonna' be a little late.  She's seeing Gerry, the owner, about some
sets and costumes, so she's gonna' be a little late.  She told me to
take you back, and introduce you to the rest of the girls, and see that
you get a place to change, and all.  We don't have to do that yet, so
finish your drink, and relax.  We got an hour or so before rehearsal
starts, so we can sit here and relax and talk for a while.  Tina says
you're gonna' be on the right end of the kick line next to me, so we're
gonna' be sort of partners.  You ever done this before?"

I had to laugh a little at Billie.  I had seen her around here a number
of times.  She was a relief barmaid for Edie's and Emma's days off, and
she sometimes helped out when things got busy on other nights.  She
always appeared to be in a thither about something, and talked very
fast all the time.  We had spoken briefly a couple of times, but it had
been just a little small talk.  Even so, I knew that I liked her, and
that she would make a pleasant friend.

"No," I answered, "I've never danced like this before, but I just
signed up for lessons."  Billie nodded.  "From Toni at the 'Stage Door'
I'll bet!," she said, and sipped at her drink.  I wondered how she knew
that, but before I could ask, another girl appeared, and started
talking to her.

Billie spoke with the other girl for a minute, and then turned back to
me saying, "Bobbi, this is Patty.  She dances at the other end of the
kick line from us.  She's a real nice sort of person, so you just
gotta' like her. She just started with us three months ago, so she's
almost new just like you, and maybe that's another reason why you just
gotta' like her."

Patty was about 5'4" tall, and of slim build with shoulder length,
straight black hair.  The only detraction from her appearance was a
sort of hook to her nose, but she was going to get a nose job as soon
as she could to correct that.  I found out as time went on that she had
aspirations of being a model, and was also another one of Tina's
lovers.  She was seeing the same doctor that I was about to regarding
making her change to female complete.  Patty and I had much in common
then, and in the future.

Billie hopped off her stool.  "We should go back, and get going," she
said.  "We've gotta' find you a locker, and the others will be here
soon, and so will Tina.  She doesn't like it when we get started late.
She's tough about that, but we like her anyway.  Right, Patty?"  Patty
nodded agreement, and we headed for the back.

Billie led the way into the Ladies Room, and through another door into
the dressing room.  "The Gilded Grape" had a dressing room at the back
of both the Ladies Room and the Men's Room.  They were little more than
locker rooms, but they had a make-up table with a bench and a mirror
surrounded with lights along one wall opposite the lockers.  Both
dressing rooms had another door that led into a corridor off of which
were the entrances to the backstage area, the office, and back into the
bar area.  There was also a back door to the street with the sign
"Stage Door" over it.  This let us move between the stage and the
dressing rooms unseen, and we used the corridor to wait between acts.
It was a nice layout.

There were two girls already in the dressing room in the process of
changing.  Patty and Billie greeted them, and Billie continued the
introductions saying, "Girls, this is Bobbi!  She's the new one that
Tina told us was joining us.  She's just starting at this, so we're
gonna' have to teach her how we work, but she's okay.  Bobbi, this is
Janet, and this is Carmen.  Get to know each other while I find you a
locker.  I'll be back in a minute."  We exchanged greetings and
pleasantries while Billie went to the Office to get me a locker key,
and Patty started to change.

Carmen was Spanish, with dark eyes and long straight black hair.  She
lived with Jose', one of the bouncers, as his "wife" although he was
not the most faithful "husband" that I had ever known.  The relation-
ship seemed to please her though.

Janet had brown eyes, and short, fluffy, light brown hair.  She wanted
to be a singer, and did the singing parts in any of our skits.  She
also played the guitar quite well.  She was a lot of fun to be around,
and I wound up liking her very much.

"Here, Bobbi," said Billie handing me a couple of keys on a ring with
the bar name on the fob.  "The little one is your locker key to number
207 over there, so you can lock your stuff up while we're working, so
it stays safe from sticky fingers.  The other key fits both doors to
this dressing room, so you can get in and out.  Tuck them in your
costume when we work.  You'll find a place to hold them, and now get
changed, so we can start."

Just then another girl came in.  She had blue eyes, and wavy dark brown
hair.  Billie introduced her as Star.  She was the last member of the
"G.G.Girls" to arrive.  Star was beautiful, and was already doing some
modeling.  She even posed on a regular basis for the Drag Queen porno
magazines that were sold in Adult Bookstores.  I had some of those, and
recognized her right away.  I wondered what it would be like to pose
nude that way.  I would have to ask Star about it.  Maybe I could do
that too.

I found my locker right away, and opened it.  Inside was a pile of old
newspapers, a couple of fashion magazines, some hairpins, an old lips-
tick, and a pink sweater with imitation pearls embroidered to it.
"That stuff is all yours now if you want it," came a voice from behind
me.  I turned to see Tina standing there.  "That locker used to be
Carla's," she said.  "She left us a few months ago to move to Chicago
with her lover.  You can toss most of it in the garbage, but the
sweater should fit you."  "Thanks," I replied.  "Are there any more
hangers around?"  Tina told me to look in the closet, and I found a few
there.

"Ok, ladies," Tina announced when I returned with the hangers, "it's
show time!"  The others all gathered on the changing benches facing me.
Tina sat down with them, and said, "Its your turn on stage, Bobbi.  You
have to get used to people looking at you, and we all want to get to
know you better.  We have a little initiation for all the new girls to
sort of break the ice.  You have to do a striptease for us the first
time you change.  Let's go, girl!  Show us what you got!"

I was surprised at this, but it also excited me.  I had come here
expecting to be a chorus girl, but now I would also have to be a
stripper even if the audience was a small one of fellow drag queens.
The "G.G.Girls" looked at me with anticipation in their eyes, but Tina
had an especially lewd glint in her's.  She was obviously looking
forward to watching me strip.  "Don't forget, Bobbi," Tina said with a
leer on her lips.  "We want to see it ALL!  You aren't finished until
you are completely naked!"

This was definitely not what I had expected would happen tonight, but I
was also turned on by it.  If a striptease was what they wanted, then a
striptease was what they were going to get!  I faced all their eyes,
and thought for a moment about my first move when I heard Janet call
out, "Carmen!  Put the tape on!  She needs some music!"  There was the
metallic clicking noises of a tape recorder being loaded and turned on,
and then the room filled with the earthy sounds of brass and drums.  I
took a second to catch the beat.  Then my hips began to move, and my
first striptease was on!

I had seen a striptease show a couple of times, so I tried to think of
what those girls did, and do as much of that as I could.  I hoped that
my audience would like it.  I did not take anything off during the
first song, but danced as provocatively as possible lifting my skirt
now and then to flash the white flesh of my thighs above my stocking
tops at the group, stroking the contours of my breasts and hips
seductively, and unbuttoning my blouse to show a little more flesh in
preparation for the rest of my striptease.  I finished with a flourish
of my hands, arms, and legs, and waited frozen in that pose for the
next song.

The bass throb of the music began again a few seconds later, but this
number was slow and sensual.  I was equal to it, and slowly slipped my
blouse off my shoulders.  Then quickly turned around, so all they could
see was it descending slowly to unveil my back to their view.  I slid
my arms out of the blouse, and tossed it aside to the first shouts of
"Take it off!" from my audience.

As soon as the blouse hit the bench, my hands reached behind me to the
zipper at the back of my skirt.  I pulled the zipper down very slowly,
and undid the button at the waist band.  I started to slip my skirt off
as I bent my knees to wiggle my way down into a crouch as I moved it to
my ankles.  As the music died, I stood, and turned to face the rest of
the "G.G.Girls" now clad in just my bra, panties, garter-belt, stock-
ings, and shoes.

All eyes were fixed upon me.  I enjoyed what I saw in those eyes very
much.  I was the center of attention, and I liked that.  I would come
to enjoy it even more in the future.

Using the next break in the music as a foil, I reached over to pull one
of the changing benches to me.  As the sound of the song "Let Me
Entertain You" came up, I sat on the bench, and used it as a prop for a
number of rather lewd maneuvers that I was sure would bring my audience
to the edge of their seats.  This striptease initiation into the
"G.G.Girls" was getting me sexually excited too, and I felt my own
penis harden in its tuck back between my legs in my crotch.  I wondered
if the others were in the same condition, but I had other things to do.

I swung my legs over the edge of the bench, and sat up to remove my
stockings.  I slipped my foot daintily out of my right shoe, and made a
little production out of unsnaping the garters that held up my right
stocking.  I leaned back a little, and did a leg-flash kick as I slid
it down.  I caught it on my toes, and played with it there before I let
it pop off only to drop the stocking into my crotch to be withdrawn
very slowly to further tantalize and titillate my audience.  I then
tossed it aside, and put my right shoe back on.

I first popped the garters on my left stocking before I stepped out of
that shoe.  This time I lay on my back on the bench to do the leg-flash
kick to take it off.  Again I hooked it on my toes for a moment before
letting it snap back to my waiting hands.  I formed the stocking into
three folds between my fingers, and let the folds hang down with the
middle one longer than the other two.  Pretending that the folds were a
cock and balls, I held them over my face, and lowered them to where I
could flick at the erzats "cock" with my tongue before tossing the
stocking aside to stand to remove my garter-belt just before the music
for that number ended.

That left me standing there in just my bra and panties.  I glanced at
my audience, and saw them wide-eyed, and staring at me.  They were
cheering and applauding, spicing that with occasional calls of "Take it
off!" or "Take it all off!"  My heart was pounding from the exertions
of the dance, but also from the excitement of the moment.  Every nerve
of my body was set up on end reaching for more and more of the thrills
that I was feeling.  If this could happen in front of a smell backstage
audience of drag queens, what would it be like with a proper striptease
costume, on a real runway, in front of a full audience?  That was some-
thing that I would have to find out!

The pounding beat of the drums, and the wail of the brass once again
filled the room.  My shoulders and hips moved with the flow of sound
almost involuntarily.  I reached behind me, and unhooked my bra.  I did
not let it fall to the floor, but held it in front of me as I slid the
straps off my shoulders, and took my arms out.  I danced that way for a
moment flashing little peeks at my nipples to the audience, and then I
tossed it aside.  My hands went right to the elastic waistband of my
panties, for the song was almost done.  How I got them off without
dislodging my now hard penis from its tuck back between my legs in my
crotch I shall never know, but as the music ended, I stood nude, except
for the shoes and jewelry I still wore, before the "G.G.Girls".

I posed in the nude for a moment after the music stopped to catch my
breath, and let the girls have a good look at me, but Carmen called
out, "You're no finish yet!  There's another song!"  I had come this
far, so there was no turning back now.  The strains of the music came
up once again, and I was dancing in the nude for their pleasure.  This
time my penis did not cooperate very well, and popped free of its tuck
to wave about in front of me.  My audience loved it!  There were cheers
and applause.  They thought that it was the climax of my act, and
reacted with enthusiasm.  In a couple of minutes the tape ended, and I
stood naked and panting while they applauded wildly.

While the "G.G.Girls" applauded, Tina rose, and walked over to me.  She
put her hands on my shoulders, and kissed me on the cheek saying,
"Welcome to the 'G.G.Girls', Bobbi."  She did not have to say more.

I had made it through the initiation, and was now one of them.  It was
an association well worth having, and I have maintained some of the
friendships to this very day.  Most drag queens do not occupy very high
rungs on the social structure ladder of our society.  Most of these
girls were different, and they were all worth knowing for some reason
or other.

Tina turned to the group with her arm around my shoulders, and said,
"Well, what do you all think, ladies?  Is she good enough to be one of
us?"  Another round of applause rippled through the room, and they all
stood to finish it as a standing ovation.  The "G.G.Girls" then all
crowded around me to give hugs and kisses of welcome.  My penis was
still hard, and I had not gotten to tucking it back between my legs
yet.  A couple of the girls joked about that.

Suddenly I felt someone in the crowd touch my penis, and caress it
lightly with their fingers.  I traced the arm that those fingers were
attached to, and saw Patty smiling at me.  Not being sure of what else
to do when someone fondles my penis, I smiled back at her.  She
responded with a flash of her eyes, and by running just the tip of her
tongue over her lips as if to lick them in anticipation.  None of the
others saw this, and she finished by blowing me a tiny kiss before she
walked away to finish changing.  If that was a proposition as a prelude
to sex, I wish she could have done the rest of it then and there.  It
would help me to get rid of this hardon.  As it was, I had a difficult
time getting it back into its tuck, but we had a rehearsal to do.  Tina
would not let us forget that.

"All right, ladies!," Tina said in a loud voice.  "Let's get changed,
and on stage!  We have a lot of work to do, so playtime's over for
now!"  We all went back to changing.  I gathered up the clothes I had
just removed in my striptease, and hung them in my locker.  Then I
dressed quickly in my tights, leotard, and dancing shoes.  I had just a
moment left to freshen my make-up, and fluff my hair back into place
before Tina was standing at the door to the stage clapping her hands to
hurry us out.

We gathered in a mob on the darkened stage.  There was the sound of a
large electrical switch closing, and the stage lights came up.  Tina
was standing at the front of the stage facing us with a dancer's timing
stick in her hands.  "Let's try a kick line to warm up, shall we?,"
Tina called out.  "From my right, I want the order to go Patty, Carmen,
Star, Janet, Billie, and Bobbi!  Let's go, ladies!  We have work to
do!"  Tina was barking orders like a drill sergeant.  She always worked
with us that way.  She was tough, but the shows were all the better for
it.

Some lively music played in the stage area, and the "G.G.Girls" all
formed up to link arms for balance in the kick line.  Tina beat time
with her stick, and looked sternly at us.  "Come on, ladies!," she
ordered.  "Get those legs up!  Higher!  Get them up like you do for
your boyfriends!"  Tina tapped my thigh with her stick.  "Stretch those
hamstrings, Bobbi!  Higher!"

I was having trouble kicking as high at the others.  Tina tried just
urging me, but I was new at this even though I had been doing some
stretching exercises at home using the back of the sofa as a dancer's
bar.  Finally, in desperation, she joined the kick line on my right.
That helped a lot.  With Tina on my right, and Billie on my left, I
could get the leverage and balance that I needed.  When Tina saw that
it was working, she called a break, and put Billie at the end of the
kick line with me between Billie and Janet.  I had found my place among
the "G.G.Girls".

We rehearsed for three hours, but spent most of the time working on the
kick line.  We were not doing any skits that week, so the only other
thing we had to practice was being background decoration for one of
Janet's musical numbers.  There was not much to that, but Tina worked
us at it for about an hour.  We were all quite tired when she finally
called for the rehearsal to end at 10:00PM.

The "G.G.Girls" gathered back in the dressing room.  Nobody spoke very
much.  We were all too tired from our three hour workout.  My leg
muscles ached like they never had before.  As a child, I had done all
the normal running and jumping that everyone did, but I had not been
anything approaching athletic since I was about eleven years old.
Dancing may look easy, but anyone who does not see a dancer as an
athlete does not have any understanding of what it is all about.  The
only consolation to my aching legs was that all the exercise would help
keep my figure in trim.  That was something anyway.

The dressing rooms had a little shower room each, and after that work-
out, we all needed a shower.  The shower room had only two shower
heads, so we could only use it two at a time.  "You gotta' wait for
your turn, Bobbi," Billie said pointing to the shower room door.  "We
use it in seniority order, so that means that you and Patty gotta' go
last because you've been here the least time."  That was all right with
me as long as I got in there eventually.  Billie and Carmen went in
first, so I guessed that Janet and Star would follow just before Patty
and I.  I stripped off my leotard and other things, wrapped a towel
around me, and sat down to wait.

Something struck my mind as I sat there.  At the end of my little
striptease, it was Patty who had been stroking my penis, and had blown
me a covert kiss.  In a few minutes we would be alone and nude in the
privacy of the shower room.  Would she do it again?  Would she want to
do more?  I heard the door out to the Ladies Room open, and looked up
to see Patty coming back from the toilet wrapped in a towel the same
way I was.  She smiled, and came over to sit beside me.

"Would you like a cigarette?," Patty asked as she sat down, and took
one out for herself.  "I don't smoke," I answered politely.  Patty lit
her's, and took a long puff.  "Good idea," she said.  "I started a long
time ago when I was thirteen.  It's a nasty habit.  You live with
Margo, don't you?"  I said that I did, and Patty continued.  "I like
Margo.  She can be a little difficult when she's had too much to drink,
but that's all right.  Do you two have any problems about that?"

This seemed like a rather personal line of questioning on Patty's part,
but I suspected that she had something in mind behind it.  I decided to
see if my suspicion was correct.

"No, it's not a problem," I answered.  "We're just roommates, and not
lovers, after all."  I added a little girlish giggle to this to soften
the statement.  Patty's eyes flashed when I said that Margo and I were
not lovers.  I was right.  She was trying to see if I had any romantic
attachments.  That was fine.  I wondered how far she would go with that
information.  "Then I guess it works out as long as she doesn't get in
your way at home," Patty said with a laugh.

Billie and Carmen came out of the shower, and the next shift went in.
"They shouldn't be long," said Patty.  "They hate each other, so
there'll be no chatting to slow things up."  "Oh?," I said.  "I thought
you all got along?"  Patty grinned and laughed.  "No," she said.  "We
might work together, but that doesn't mean we're all friends.  Those
two both think that there better than each other.  Janet is okay, but
Star is the worst.  Just because there're pictures of her wiggling her
naked ass all over 42nd Street, she thinks she's special.  That's why
she calls herself 'Star', you know.  Her real name's Francis."  Patty
was positively catty with her comments.  The world of the "G.G.Girls"
was deeper than I thought.

Billie and Carmen were almost finished dressing when Janet and Star
came out of the shower.  I got up to get ready to go in, and Billie
called out, "I'm gonna' have a drink before I go home, Bobbi.  Meet me
at the front bar if you wanna' talk some more.  Tina'll be there too if
I know her."  "Thanks!," I called back to her.  "I'll see you out
there.  I would like a drink."  I picked up a couple of extra towels on
the way in, and Patty was right behind me doing the same thing.

Inside the shower room I heard Patty lock the door behind us.  I turned
to see what she was up to, and she said, "The others will all be gone
in a few minutes, and room'll be empty.  We don't need the janitor
popping in on our shower."  That seemed logical enough, so I let it go.
I still thought she had something else on her mind.

The spray of the shower felt good as it cascaded over my aching mus-
cles.  I let it just run over me.  I was just reaching for the soap
when I felt someone soaping up my back.  I looked around to see Patty
standing there.  She gave me a sly smile, and said, "Why should we
waste water?  You got me going with that striptease you did.  What do
you say we finish the job for each other?"

Before I could answer, Patty slipped an arm around my waist, took hold
of my penis with her other hand, and kissed me deeply.  I did not have
to answer.  I reached down, and touched Patty's small penis.  That was
all the answer either of us needed.

We broke the kiss, and looked at each other.  I think we both saw the
other in the way that I saw Patty at that moment.  Biologically we
might not have been female, but that was the way we presented our-
selves.  We were just two sexually aroused women who needed some
release.  We both would have preferred to have that release with a man,
but there were no men available at that moment.  We could find some
solace in each other's arms.

We were not Lesbian Drag Queens who dressed as women, and looked for
sexual satisfaction from other transvestites.  We were more simply like
bisexual women who understood that there were sexual pleasures that
could be had in a variety of ways if we did not limit ourselves, and
cut ourselves off from any segment of the human race.  I learned
something about myself in that moment, and have kept the knowledge all
my life.

Patty and I said nothing from then on, but we attended to washing each
other first.  It felt good to have her soaping me all over, and I
returned the favor to her obvious pleasure.  We worked slowly, paying
special playful attention to each other's penises and breasts.  Patty
had just started with hormone treatments, and so had slightly bigger
breasts than I.  I enjoyed toying with them, and she worked on mine
with as much gusto too.

At last we were finished washing, and stood in the spray to rinse.
Patty took the lead, and began teasing my nipples with her tongue.  She
continued by trailing little kisses all down my body as she crouched in
front of me.  She rolled my penis and balls between her hands when she
was all the way down, and then took my penis in her mouth to suck it
hard.  Patty gave good head.  She tickled at my balls with her fingers
while she sucked.  I was beyond myself with excitement, and it took
only moments for me to deliver a load of hot sticky cum into her eager
mouth.

Patty stood, and I knew that it was my turn.  My knees were weak, so I
welcomed the chance to kneel in front of her to rest them.  I did not
waste time at her breasts, but took her penis directly into my mouth.
I stopped sucking on the shaft only long enough for a taste of her
balls on my tongue.  I always like doing that, but I returned to her
penis in a few seconds.  I started a rhythmic in and out motion, and
felt her penis grow, and get warm in my mouth.  Then my mouth filled
with the hot spurts of Patty's cum.  I swallowed it all as she had done
with mine.  We both had gotten our release.

Patty and I stood for many minutes in each other's arms in the spray of
the shower.  It was not the sort of sexual hug that I got from my male
lovers, but exactly the way I had always imagined that two girlfriends
would hug after giving each other a needed sexual release.  That is
what we became then too.  We were very much alike in a number of ways.
I liked Patty very much.  It was a friendship that would continue far
into the future.

After a time Patty said, "Well, we should get dressed, and go outside
before Billie starts wondering about us.  She's sweet, but she can be a
real busybody at times."  I agreed, and turned off the shower, so we
could towel off.  We helped each other with that too.  We were enjoying
our new found friendship very much, and played with each other through
the towels all the way through it.

Outside in the dressing room we dressed quickly.  I stuffed the pink
sweater that I had found in the locker into my canvas bag.  It needed
to be cleaned before I wore it.  Soon we were ready to go back to the
rest of the world.  I turned out the lights in the dressing room, and
went to the bar.

Billie was standing by the waitress station at the bar as we approac-
hed.  She looked over at Tina who was at a table with Janet.  Tina
nodded at Billie, and Billie turned to us to ask, "What do you want to
drink?  Tina's buying in honor of our new member."  I was feeling like
something stronger than my usual white wine, so I said, "I'll have a
vodka and tonic if that's all right?"  Patty ordered a scotch and soda.
Tina nodded agreement, and Billie ordered the drinks from Edie the bar-
maid.

Tina called for us to join her at the table, so Patty and I walked
over, and sat down.  Tina looked us both over carefully, and at last
said, "You two like long showers.  I almost sent Billie back there to
see if you were all right."  The knowing look from Tina that followed
told me that she had a pretty good idea of what had been going on in
the shower room.

Billie arrived at the table with a tray full of drinks, and passed them
out.  She put the tray on another table, and sat down with us.  Tina
raised her drink, and said, "To our new member!  May she dance her way
to stardom!"  The "G.G.Girls" all raised their glasses, and drank a
toast to my joining them.  I liked being there too.

We sat, and talked for about an hour before we all found reasons to get
home.  "Don't forget the show on Saturday night!," admonished Tina.  "I
want you all here by six, so we can do a backstage run through in
costume before the nine o'clock show.  Don't be late!"  I promised that
I would not be late.  Wild horses could not have kept me away!

Tina left first, and Patty pushed a bar napkin toward me.  "That's my
address and phone number," she said.  "If we're going to be friends,
you should know where to find me other than here."  I took the napkin,
and hurriedly scribbled my own information on another napkin for her.
"Yes," I answered.  "That's a good idea.  Maybe we could go shopping,
or something"

I left "The Gilded Grape" to go home.  Margo was sitting on the sofa
watching television when I got there.  She was even sober.  "I decided
to stay home tonight," she said.  "How did it go?"  All I could say
was, "Great!  I had a wonderful time, but I'm tired.  I'm going to
bed."  Margo said "good night" to me, and I went to my bedroom.  I lay
in bed thinking about my day before I slid into an exhausted sleep.  It
had been quite a day.


Sub-title: One, Two, Three, Kick!

The rest of that week passed in an ordinary manner.  There was only the
usual routine of work, and lunch with Edith.  We were becoming very
close, and I liked that.  She was true to her word in acting very
motherly toward me.  Edith wanted to know all that was happening to me,
and all that I was feeling.  I was happy to tell her all about it too.
It felt good to have someone like her to confide in.  Margo was all
right as a roommate, but there were just some things that I did not
like to talk with her about.  She was a little too cynical about
people.  They had failed her too many times.

Edith wanted me to come over to her home for dinner one evening.  She
lived out in Queens, and had her mother, Sarah, living with her.  I
wanted to do that too.  Since my family had written me off, I missed
that sort of contact.  Edith and her mother could provide that missing
part of my life, and they were more than willing to do it.

Edith said that she would just introduce me to her mother as a girl-
friend from work.  Sarah was 84 years old, and it was not worth making
a long explanation to her about me.  I agreed with that.  I wanted
everyone to think of me as the woman that I am anyway, so there was no
need to complicate things for Sarah.  Things were going to be a little
hectic for me that week, so we put it off for now.

The next big step in my life was my first dancing class with Toni at
the "Stage Door Dance Academy" on Friday evening.  After the session at
the rehearsal of the "G.G.Girls" chorus line, I wondered if I was up to
it.  My legs hurt right after the rehearsal, but that was nothing com-
pared with the way they felt the next day!  I could barely get out of
bed on Wednesday morning.  I was just not used to that much exercise,
but I knew that was the only way to get what I wanted out of this.  I
steeled myself to what was ahead.

Tina said that I should work at the dance exercises as much as I could
until my muscles loosened up enough.  It was not easy, but I did my
best.  I worked out in the living room of the apartment every night
that week using the back of the sofa or a kitchen chair for a dancer's
bar.  Margo was playfully annoyed at this, but generally supportive.
For all the problems that we had, we were very much like sisters
through it.

The telephone rang at about 8:00PM on Wednesday night.  I had just got
home after shopping with Edith, and was getting ready to do my dance
exercises.  It was Peter.  After a few pleasantries, he asked, "What
are you doing on Saturday night?  Could we have dinner?"  He wanted to
take me out on a real date!

No man had ever asked me out before, and I was thrilled.  It was with a
lot of sadness that I had to tell him, "We have a show at 'The Gilded
Grape' on Saturday, and I'm in the chorus line.  I can have a drink
with you between the shows, but I won't be free until about midnight."

"That's all right," Peter responded.  "I'd like to see the show, and if
you're in it, that's so much the better, doll!  Maybe I could take you
home afterward."

I liked the interest he was showing in me.  I did, however, wonder if
he had anything in mind for when he got me home after the show.  It was
not that I did not want him to get me into bed.  I did want him to get
me into bed, but I was sort of hoping that we could get at least one
date in first.

"That would be nice," I told Peter.  "A girl can always use an escort
on these streets at night."  He chuckled, and said, "Than it's a date!
I'll see you at 'The Gilded Grape' on Saturday night.  Bye for now,
doll!"  I said "good-bye" too, and hung up.  I was already looking
forward to seeing him again.  He was cute enough to daydream over while
I exercised.

The only other incident of sorts took place on Thursday morning.  I was
putting away some stock at work when Edith came out into the stockroom
to get me.  "There's a call for you in the office," she said.  "It's
Paul from Personnel."  Edith and I exchanged knowing glances.  She knew
from our lunchtime talks that Paul and I were seeing each other.  I had
planned not to tell her, but it was just too good a piece of gossip to
hold back.

I entered the office, and Edith pointed to the telephone on the spare
desk.  Mr. Steinman, the Assistant Buyer, was in the office, so I had
to be careful of what I said.  I picked up the receiver, pushed the
button that was flashing, and said, "Hello?"

"Hello, Bobbi?," said Paul.  "Yes," I answered.  "Listen," he went on,
"I know that you can't, err... talk there in the office, so just say
'yes' or 'no'.  All right?"  "Okay," I answered.  "I know that we had
planned to, err... get together this week, but I, err... can't make it.
My wife is in one of her, err... moods, and I can't get away.  You do
understand, don't you?"  "Sure," I answered in a sympathetic tone.

"That's good," said Paul with a little sigh of relief in his voice.
"We're still, err... friends, right?"  "Yes," I answered.  "You're
still going to, err... see me from time to time, right?"  "Yes," I
answered.

"Oh, yeah!," he said remembering something else.  "You have an appoint-
ment with my, err... buddy Jack at two o'clock on Tuesday about that
modeling job, so I, err... set it up with your Buyer that you can,
err... leave at noon, and take the rest of the day off.  We put it down
as a half of one of your, err... personal days, so you still get paid
for it.  All right?"  "Yes!," I answered excitedly.

"Okay, cutie!," Paul said.  "We both have to get back to work.  Err..
tell anyone who asks that I was just giving you the, err... OK on your
half personal day for next week.  That isn't a, err... lie.  Bye,
cutie!"  "All right," I said, "bye-bye."

"Is everything okay?," Mr. Steinman asked as I hung up the telephone.
"Oh, sure," I answered.  "I had just asked for Tuesday afternoon off to
take care of some family matters, and they were just letting me know
that they had cleared it with Mr. Conlin."  Mr. Steinman frowned a
little, and said, "He didn't say anything to me about it, but I guess
it's okay.  No serious problems at home, I hope?"  "No," I answered,
"just usual family nonsense."  He turned back to his desk, and I went
back to the stockroom.

I told Edith all about the calls from my two new boyfriends over lunch.
She showed a motherly interest in them asking, "Well, when do I get to
meet them?  You should bring them home to meet your mother sometime."

We both laughed at this, but it was not a bad idea.  I asked Edith,
"When I do, could I... introduce you as my mother for real?  I would
like that."  Edith got a little misty, and after a short pause, answer-
ed, "Of course, Bobbi.  I would like that very much too."

I think we got even closer then if that was possible.  She had already
accepted me as her daughter, and this was my way of telling her that I
too accepted the relationship.  I really did see her as my mother in
every way.  A girl needs a mother to help her along, and be a sort of
refuge for her to turn to when she has problems.  Since my natural
mother had abandoned this role, I needed a substitute.  Edith was more
than willing to accept the role, and I was happy to have her in it.

There is a real "sisterhood" among women that most men do not fully
understand.  It was slowly beginning to show itself to my own under-
standing, and Edith was part of it.  She was also as much a friend as a
mother figure, and I liked that part best of all.  We have stayed that
way all of my life.

Friday came at last, and I was ready for it.  I had packed all of my
rehearsal clothes, and a few other things in a big blue canvas bag that
I could sling over my shoulder by its handles to go to work.  My dan-
cing class was due to start at 6:00PM, so I would have to go straight
from work.  I would have liked to have work a skirt that day, but I
could not go to work in one.

I was hating that job more and more every day.  Margo worked as a cas-
hier in a variety store, and held that job as a woman.  I would have
liked to do the same, but the salary she made was very small.  That is
why she turned tricks for cash as a TV prostitute at night.  There was
no other way to afford the apartment we shared.  My moving in meant
that she did not have to turn as many tricks, but she still needed to
do a few.  If I were to have taken a job like her's, it would mean that
I would have to do the same thing.  I did not want to have to live that
way.

I did not make a large salary at the department store, but it was just
about enough for the rent, food, clothing, and other essentials.  I
turned a few tricks too.  That gave me some extra money to have fun
with.  I could also just afford the twenty dollars a week for the dan-
cing lessons on my salary.

The doctor bills that I would have to incur in order to be all the
woman that I could be were another matter.  I knew that a full program
of Sexual Reassignment Surgery, or SRS, cost quite a bit of money, but
I had no idea of how I would get it.  Turning to my family was out of
the question.  There were only two possible options as I saw it.  I
could save enough out of part-time modeling assignments if the inter-
view that Paul had set up with his friend Jack worked out, or I could
turn, like so many other drag queens, to prostitution.

Prostitution is an easy way to make a small living for a number of drag
queens.  There are always men who are unsettled enough with their sex-
uality that they want to try a sample of what it is like to have a sex-
ual encounter with another man, but need the trappings of femininity
that such an encounter with a drag queen provides to keep them from
thinking that they have turned "queer".  There are bisexual men who
just enjoy making love with a transvestite.  Also there are the men
that just want a "change of pace" from their wives and/or girlfriends.
Many men of these types are willing to spend a few dollars to satisfy
their needs.

Crossing the gender gap from male to female can be very impoverishing.
Most males lack the job skills that are needed to fit into a mid-range
"female" job like secretary or typist, and the top-of-the-line jobs are
difficult to get when you show up at the interview in a skirt while
your university record indicates that you are a male.  Even for low
level jobs things are difficult if you do not have identification and a
Social Security Number that shows you to be female.

I got around all this by holding my job as a male while living the rest
of the time as a female.  Margo did it by working "off the books" for
an employer that knew she was a transvestite.  She had to give the guy
at least one blow-job a week in his dingy office at the back of the
store to keep the job, but she did not seem to mind that very much.

The real problem that she and other transvestites that supported them-
selves in the same way had was a total lack of any reserves or benefits
of any kind.  It is a completely hand-to-mouth existence.  It is very
easy to loose all self-esteem living that way, yet that very sense of
self-esteem is what you need most to become all the woman that you can
be.  Prostitution offers an easy way to lift yourself up a little on an
economic basis for as long as you are pretty enough to attract a "john"
while satisfying an inner need of most transvestites to prove them-
selves as women sexually as often as possible.

Making the decision to adopt the lifestyle of the drag queen can be as
painful as making the decision not to adopt it.  The need to be what I
really am, however, compels me to do it.  I cannot deny myself.

The real problem that I had with the way I was supporting myself was
that it was depressing.  I was thinking about this as I handed the bag
with my rehearsal clothes in it to Edith to keep under her desk for me.
I was dressed in my usual jeans, sweater top, and penny loafers, but in
that bag were the things that I would rather have been wearing includ-
ing a skirt, heels, stockings, and lingerie that I would change into
after my class.  I so desperately wanted to be wearing them now.

I retrieved my bag from Edith at 4:45PM.  Mr. Conlin had said that it
was all right for me to leave fifteen minutes early on Fridays from
then on.  I had told him that I needed the extra time to get to school,
and he seemed pleased to help me in continuing my education.  I just
neglected to tell him what sort of class I was taking.

Edith wished me luck as I headed out the door to my first dancing
class.  The "Stage Door Dancing Academy" was on 48th Street between 8th
Avenue and Broadway.  Those side streets around Broadway just north of
Times Square are lined with aging office buildings filled with busines-
ses involved in the theatrical trades.  This is where you start your
climb to stardom through the rehearsal floors of the dancing schools,
or the casting couches of the agents and producers.  This is also a
place to wind out your career when you find out that stardom is harder
to achieve than you thought, and get a job as a dance teacher for a new crop of hopefuls, or a receptionist for a producer where you can usher
those same hopefuls toward that casting couch that is still warm from
your own turn on it.

I took a few minutes to stop into the Coffee Shop near the department
store for a soda, and pop into their Ladies Room to put on my make-up,
bra, and jewelry as I did each evening on my way home from work.  I got
a big smile and a little wave from the Puerto Rican boy behind the
counter when I walked in.  I smiled back at him, and parked my canvas
bag on the counter with him while I used the Ladies Room.  His smile
was even broader when I emerged all made-up.  "You early tonight, si?,"
he said with a heavy accent.  "Yes," I answered.  "I'm going to dancing
class."  He added a nod to the smile as he brought my soda, but said no
more as he went back to his station at the end of the counter.  His
boss did not like him to talk to the customers.

I finished the soda, and gave him a smile of my own as I left.  I wal-
ked up 5th Avenue to 42nd Street then crosstown to Times Square.  I
looked over all the theater marquees as I turned again uptown through
Times Square on Broadway.  I was daydreaming of what it would be like
to have my name up there as the leading lady in a musical.  It was a
pleasant thought, but a goal that was a long way off, and rather un-
realistic.  I would settle for a job as a chorus girl, but I wanted
that job as a woman instead of just being one of the TV's in the
"G.G.Girls" chorus line.  I made up my mind then to set that as a goal.

I got to the "Stage Door Dance Academy" about twenty-five minutes
early.  There was nothing at all fancy about the place.  The little
outer office was plain with just a few chairs, and a small desk behind
which sat a small middle aged woman.  "May I help you?," she asked as I
came in.

I told her my name, and she said, "Oh yes, you're just starting to-
night.  We have a few forms to fill out, and then Toni wants to see you
before class."  She handed me a clipboard with some papers on it, and I
sat down to fill them out.  They were standard name and address, con-
tract, and insurance forms, and I was done with them quickly.  I handed
them back to her, and she said, "Okay, come with me, and I'll take you
back to meet Toni."  My dancing career was about to begin.

A door in the reception area led back to the dance floor.  It was just
a big room with a wooden floor about thirty feet square.  One wall was
all windows looking onto 48th Street, and another was all mirrors.  A
dancer's bar ran around most of the walls except for the one with the
windows.  An odd assortment of crude props cluttered one corner, and an
upright piano filled another next to which was a bookcase full of tapes
and records with a small hi-fi set on top.

Over on one wall near the window side of the room was a door that bore
the name "TONI" in capital letters over a big gold star.  "My name is
Liz.  I run the office, and play the piano here.  I'm the one you come
to if you have any problems," she said as we crossed the dance floor,
and she knocked at the door to Toni's office.

"Come!," said a voice from inside, and Liz opened the door to let me
in.  Inside Toni sat behind a large wooden desk.  There was a sidechair
by the desk, and Toni shook my hand, and motioned for me to sit.

Toni's office was a little less spartan than the rest of the "Stage
Door Dance Academy".  Her desk dominated the room with its presence,
and that was because it looked slightly out of place.  The rest of the
room looked more like a dancer's dressing room done up as a museum dis-
play.  The windows overlooking 48th Street continued across one wall of
the office.  There was a dressing table with a mirror ringed with
lights on the opposite wall.  Behind the desk were some bookcases full
of books on dance and business, a file cabinet, and a rail of costumes.
A large brown leather sofa was against the wall just inside the door
with a side table next to it topped by a pile of worn dance magazines,
and a lamp with a statue of a nude woman in a ballet pose as its base.
A matching lamp with the figure of a nude man in another pose decorated
a twin table at the other end of the sofa.  The walls were covered with
framed newspaper clippings and photographs mostly of or about Toni, but
some of famous dancers complete with autographs.  One picture looked
very much like Tina, but I could not be sure.

Toni herself was tall with a figure that can only be described as wil-
lowy.  Her breasts and hips were not large, and there was not the trace
of an ounce of fat anywhere about her.  Her features ran to the "man-
nish" side with high angular cheekbones and a strong chin.  Her medium
brown hair was short.  Her dark eyes flashed with a fire and drive that
I have seen in few women.  She was quite beautiful.

"Bobbi," Toni began as I sat in the chair, and Liz closed the door
leaving us alone, "I talk to all the new girls when they first arrive
to give them the rules here."  Her voice was stern but friendly, and I
sat up straight to show interest.

"We have a nice group here, and I like it that way," Toni continued.
"I expect all of my girls to be on time, and do what they're told.  The
key to dance is discipline.  If you're here just for fun or figure con-
trol, you're in the wrong place.  I train serious dancers who want to
work as dancers.  I don't have time for anything else.  Do you under-
stand?"  I nodded, and Toni went on with a little less stern voice.

"I know that you are a transvestite," she said.  "I only train female
dancers normally, but I do make an exception for serious TV's.  Tina
vouches for you, so that is fine.  There is also another TV in your
class.  The rest of the class are all women, but they know that the two
of you are here, so don't feel embarrassed in the dressing room.  Your
body is your instrument in dance, so don't be afraid to show it.  The
only thing I will NOT tolerate is anything sexual of any type in the
dressing room or on the dance floor.  You are just one of the women
here, and I expect you to act like it.  Do you understand me?"  I said
that I did, and Toni directed me to the dressing room.  I left her of-
fice, and headed there.  I was on my way to becoming a dancer.

There were two other doors in the wall of the rehearsal studio next to
the one that led to Toni's office.  The one on the middle bore the name
"LIZ" with a gold star a little smaller than the one on Toni's door,
and the other just said "Dressing Room" on it.  I walked to the dres-
sing room door, and was just about to push it open when Liz cam up be-
hind me, and said, "Just a minute, Bobbi!  Let me give you some things
first.  This is your I.D. card for the studio just in case I am not
here, and here is your locker key.  You have number 32.  That's a lucky
one.  The last girl that had it is on Broadway now."  I took the things
she pushed toward me, and thanked her.  It was now time to change, and
get to work.

Inside the dressing room was as plain as the rest of the studio.  There
were five or so girls in there when I entered, and all in various
states of undress in the process of changing.  I had been in locker
rooms full of boys before, but this was the first time I had ever been
in a girl's locker room.  Three walls of the room were all lockers, and
the remaining one was a long make-up table with mirrors and lights
above.  It looked just as I pictured any theater chorus dressing room
would look.  The center of the room was filled with benches for us to
change on.

I found my locker, and opened it.  I set my canvas bag down on a bench,
and started taking off my clothes.  Toni had said that she had told the
other girls that there were two TV's in the class, so I had nothing to
worry about from them.  I wondered who the other TV was, and how we
would get along.  One girl, however, spoke as I removed my bra.

"Hi!," she said.  "My name's Pamela.  What's your's?"  She was a rather
ordinary looking woman, but pleasant enough.  "Bobbi," I said with a
smile.  She smiled back, and said, "Oh, your one of the drags that Toni
said were in the class.  That's all right.  I don't mind.  My locker is
next to yours, so maybe we can be friends here?"  I thought that might
be a good idea, so I went along with it.  I wanted to fit into this
group here, so I needed all the friends I could find.

I was just pulling my sweater over my head when a familiar voice said,
"Well, hello Bobbi.  Toni didn't tell me that you were the other TV in
the class."  The sweater popped off my head to reveal my friend Patty
putting her own bag of rehearsal clothes on the bench.  "This might be
fun," I said with a smile of surprise on my face.  "I thought you were
in a more advanced class."  No," she answered, "I took one class a few
weeks ago, but that was only because Toni didn't have a beginners class
just then.  She thought it would be better for me to move to this one."
"Well," I said, "I think it is a pretty good idea too.  Maybe we can
help each other."

Having Patty in the class made me feel a little better about it.  It is
one thing to be out on the street in drag where nobody knows that you
are not exactly as you present yourself, but quite another to be in the
sort of situation that I was now in.  After I had finished talking to
Patty, I turned to strip off my jeans, and was confronted with an en-
tire room full of naked and semi-naked women.  There were a total of
twenty of us in the class to start with, and all of us were here now.
Patty and I presented ourselves as women, and Toni had assured us that
we would be treated as such.  It was a little intimidating, however, to
be faced with this reality of becoming a woman.

As I grew up, I had, as all boys had, been taught that the Ladies Room
was not a place I should go.  The Ladies Room at "The Gilded Grape" was
one in name only.  The couple of public Ladies Rooms that I had been in
were almost as sordid affairs as the Men's Rooms that I had been in.
This was very different.  It bordered on an almost intimate situation.
I did not feel a strong sexual attraction to these eighteen women, but
I had to force myself not to stare at the strange newness of the
situation.

I stripped down to just my panties, and put on my rehearsal clothes.  I
was pulling on my tights when I noticed Pamela staring at me.  I looked
up at her, and she blushed in embarrassment.  "Oh, I'm sorry," she
said.  "That's all right," I said with a giggle.  "I like being looked
at." Pamela looked puzzled for a second, and then laughed too.  "I
should tell you," she said, "that you're not what I expected when Toni
told me that there would be TV's in the class.  You and your friend
Patty are very pretty."

I was pleased to hear her say this, but it was a little naive and con-
descending.  I returned her remark by saying, "Thank you, but you did-
n't expect us to have full beards, did you?," and added another girlish
giggle to soften the statement.  Pamela laughed too.  We had made a
joke of it, but my message had gotten through.  She treated me just
like the woman I am ever since then.

I was dressed in a few minutes, and left the dressing room to join the
crowd of women milling about on the dance floor.  Then the door to
Toni's office opened, and she appeared.  Toni wasted no time in prelim-
inaries, but went about in the group lining us up, and telling us to
remember our places in line for future classes.

She went through a few minutes of the theory of dance, and then laun-
ched into getting us moving with some warm-up and exercise moves.
These were sort of like the moves that Tina had taught me.  Other than
some more instruction on some dance theory, and an explanation of the
proper way to move at the dancer's bar, that was about all we did for
the two hours of class.  There was not much more she could do with us.
This was the first time on a dance floor for most of those in the
class.

At last Toni told us that next week we would start working on some bal-
let positions, and called the class over.  I was tired, but I did not
hurt as I had after the rehearsal with Tina.  I guessed that all the
exercises this week were getting my muscles used to this, and I was
right.  I was becoming a dancer, but there was still a long way to go.

Liz followed the group into the dressing room carrying a fish bowl full
of little slips of paper.  "Only two at a time in the shower!," she
called out.  "Draw a number for your turn!  Matching numbers shower
together!"  I turned to see where Patty went guessing that we would be
exceptions, but Liz stepped in front of me.  "Take a number, Bobbi,"
she said.  "When we said that you had to be just one of the girls to
fit in, we meant it."  She held the fish bowl out, and I took a piece
of paper.  On it was the number 6.  I wondered who my shower partner
would be.

I walked back to my locker to take my clothes off.  I saw Patty there,
but she had drawn an 8, so we would not be together.  I stripped down
to my panties, and put on a terry cloth robe.  I slipped my panties off
from under the robe without dislodging my penis from its tuck, and
waited for my turn.  I knew that I could not keep my penis tucked be-
tween my legs in the shower.  I was about to see a live woman totally
naked for the first time in my life, and I was going to be totally nak-
ed too.  Most males would have jumped at this chance, but I was nothing
short if terrified!

I had never been naked in front of a woman since I was in diapers.  I
felt no sexual attraction toward women, and I had trouble imagining
that any of them would feel any sexual attraction toward me.  Sexuality
did not enter my mind at all.  What was causing some emotional conflict
was the old taboos of society that I learned as I had grown up.  Being
nude with other boys around was something that I had done in high
school.  It was even condoned in the gym class shower, but never with
girls around.  That taboo was about to receive the same "one, two, th-
ree, KICK!" that we did on the chorus line.

"Six!," Liz called out as two girls emerged from the shower.  I rose to
go in, and so did Pamela.  "Well," she said, "I guess we're together."
She looked as nervous as I felt as we entered the shower room.  I clos-
ed the door behind us, but did not latch it.  In a minute there would
be nothing to hide.

The shower room was really just a big double size stall with two shower
heads jutting out from one wall, and a little bench outside the area of
the spray on the opposite wall.  The shower room at "The Gilded Grape"
was bigger, and at least had a "modesty panel" between the two heads.
This one had no such amenities, so each one in here was totally exposed
to the gaze of the other.  Above the bench was a sign that read:

                      YOUR BODY IS YOUR INSTRUMENT
                         TAKE PROPER CARE OF IT
                             BE PROUD OF IT
                                  TONI

Maybe there was some humor buried in that.  It seemed like it was try-
ing to say something about the shower arrangements if nothing else.

Pamela and I gave each other a furtive look, and then changed that to
one of resignation.  I took the lead at that point, and tossed my robe
onto the bench.  I was totally naked, but still with my penis in its
tuck.  Pamela looked slightly puzzled, but tossed her robe onto the
bench as well.  We were totally naked, but Pamela looked little differ-
ent from any drag queen that I had ever seen that way.  I kept expect-
ing to see a penis pop from its tuck between her legs, but she did not
have one.  That was the way that I wanted to be.

"Where's your dick?," Pamela blurted out, and then covered her mouth
with her hand in embarrassment.  Her question shocked me at first, but
we would be taking a lot of showers together as this class went on.  I
decided it would be better to get this all out of the way now.  It
would make things a lot easier in the long run.

I smiled to try to show Pamela that I had taken no offence as I said,
"Oh, it's there all right.  I just have it tucked back between my legs,
so that it won't make any unfeminine bulges in my clothes."  Pamela
seemed a little surprised at the matter-of-fact way that I had answered
her, so I went on a bit more.  "Look," I said as gently as I could, "I
know you are still a little confused.  Toni said that she told all the
girls about Patty and I, and you all accept us, but acceptance is not
always understanding.  I don't expect that you will ever understand it
all.  That really isn't even necessary for you to do, and I am not sure
that I even understand all of it myself, but please try to understand
one thing.  I am more a woman with a penis than a man in a dress.  The
only thing that is in any way male about me is the fact that I do have
a penis, but if things go right, I'm going to have that changed soon."

Pamela thought for a moment, and then said softly, "Gee, I didn't think
of it that way.  I wasn't sure what to think when Toni told me about
it.  She was mostly concerned with how things would go in the dressing
room with the nudity, and all that.  I'm a sort of a nudist anyway, so
that didn't bother me.  I guess that I thought the only possible prob-
lems would be sexual ones."

I shook my head, and said, "No, I have no sexual interest in other wo-
men at all.  The only sexual partners I want are men."  "Then you're
Gay?," Pamela asked.  "Well," I replied, "most people might say so bas-
ed on my biological gender, but it I'm psychologically a woman in every
other way, isn't it a natural thing for me to like men?"  Pamela nod-
ded.  "I guess so," she said.

"Let me prove it once and for all, okay?," I said.  Pamela agreed, and
I spread my legs to free my penis from its tuck.  It was flaccid, so it
came out slowly, and just hung limply over my scrotum.  Pamela looked
at it, but seemed unsure of what to say or do.  "See," I said with a
girlish giggle.  "It's soft.  If there were going to be any sexual pro-
blems, wouldn't I have a hardon right about now?"

Pamela was speechless at first.  She just sort of stared at my little
soft penis for a while.  Then looked me in the eye, and said with her
own nervous sort of giggle, "Well, now I'm really confused.  I'm glad
your not aroused by being here naked with me because as a man you don't
turn me on, and I'm not sexually into women, but I'm a little insulted,
on the other hand, that I don't turn on every person that I meet."  We
both looked at each other, and broke down into a fit of laughter.  "You
turn me on as a friend," I said at last.  "That's fine with me too,
girlfriend," said Pamela.  We did our shower as friends, and I liked it
that way.  We had come to more understanding than we knew.

Pamela had to go home right after the shower, so I waited around for
Patty to finish her's.  Patty lived a few blocks away from where I did,
so we walked home together.  We were both too tired to go to "The Gil-
ded Grape" that after class, but we talked about doing the show there
tomorrow night.  I also told her about Peter meeting me there for a
drink.  She said that she thought she had seen him around the bar a
couple of times, but not very regularly.  We got to her house first, so
I walked on home alone.

The walk was not very far.  The direct route from the "Stage Door Dance
Academy" to my house was only about four blocks, but walking Patty home
had added a two block detour to that.  I was home in a jiffy.  I called
Edith when I got home, and we chatted about dance class and the show.
Sometimes a girl just wants to talk to her mother.  I went to bed at
eleven o'clock.  Margo did not come home until three in the morning.
She had turned four tricks that night.

I slept late that Saturday morning, so that I would be rested for the
show that night.  Amateur production or not, this would be my debut on
stage, and I wanted everything to be just right.  I was also looking
forward to seeing Peter again.  I really liked him, and I wanted him to
like me too.

I did some dance exercises around the house most of the day to limber
up.  Tina said that she wanted us there by 6:00PM to get ready for the
show, so I had some time to kill.  Margo dragged herself out of bed at
about one o'clock, and sat in the living room watching me while smoking
cigarettes and drinking coffee to try to relieve her hangover.  She
told me jokingly that watching me made her tired, but added that I
should, "...dance well tonight.  The better you look up there on stage,
the hornyer the guys in the audience will be, and the more tricks I can
turn."  Margo was saving to buy a color television.  She needed the
cash.

I finally quit exercising at about three o'clock, and took a shower.  I
would have liked to indulge myself in a bubble bath to be soft and
perfumed for Peter, but that would just be a waste with all the exer-
tions coming up in the show.  I had a little something to eat with Mar-
go afterward, and then made ready to dress for the evening.

I decided to go to "The Gilded Grape" in casual clothes, but take a
nice dress along for Peter to walk me home in.  I have always been par-
tial to clingy knit jersey sheaths, so I carefully folded my kelly gre-
en one with the high draped neckline in front, and not much of a back
into my dance bag.  I also put in a green satin slip, bra, garter-belt,
and panties set to go with the dress.  I did want for Peter to take me
out on a real date before I let him get me into bed, but I also wanted
all of my clothes to be as sexy as they could be just in case the tem-
ptation was too great later.  Always be prepared.

I put on an everyday bra and panties, and covered these with a cable
knit sliver-grey sweater top, and a skirt made of blue denim.  It came
to an inch above the top of my knee, and I really liked the whistles I
got when I set my legs off with sheer stockings, and grey pumps to mat-
ch the sweater.  I tossed all the rest of my stuff in the bag, and went
to the apartment door to leave.

Margo had gotten dressed too, and was waiting by the door to walk to
the club with me.  We talked quite a bit for the short distance from
our house to "The Gilded Grape".  We did not get much chance to do that
even though we shared the apartment.  My schedule and her drinking pre-
vented us from seeing all that much of each other when we were both
sober and lucid.  We needed more time together.

We got to "The Gilded Grape" around 5:30PM.  Margo headed straight for
the bar, and ordered a drink.  I told her that I was not drinking until
after the show, and headed to the dressing room to put my dance bag in
my locker.

I returned to the bar, and talked to Margo a bit more.  She and I were
still good friends as well as roommates even if her drinking was a lit-
tle difficult to take.  I honestly wanted to help her, but I do not
think that she recognized that it was a problem at all.  I did not know
it then, but we would both have to face up to her problem in future.
Not tonight, though.  This was not a night for confrontation.

"Well, I see you made it in plenty of time," came a voice from behind
me.  It was the ubiquitous Billie starting her job of shepherding us
around for Tina.  Billie was another one who seemed to live at "The
Gilded Grape" all the time.  I never saw her anywhere else, and she was
always somewhere about whenever I was in the club.  I wondered where
she really lived, and how she lived.  Just feminine curiosity, I guess.

Tina appeared at precisely 6:00PM, sharp.  She made a regal sort of
entrance in a full-length cocktail dress covered in blue and green
sequins, and a sliver fox jacket.  She walked slowly, but deliberately
to the back of the club, and into the corridor leading to the dressing
room.  "Come along, Bobbi," was all she said as she passed me.  She did
the same with the other "G.G.Girls" who were sitting in various places
around the club.  We all dutifully followed her.  She was the boss, and
we knew it.

When we were all in the dressing room Tina spoke, "The show tonight is
a simple one for us, but that doesn't make it any less important to do
our best.  You'll find your costumes in the boxes over by the door.
Your name will be on your box.  The basic leotard will work for the
whole show, but you'll find two headpieces and a cape in there too.
The small tiara headpiece is for the kick line numbers.  The big one
with the feathers and the cape are for the show girl stuff to back up
Janet's songs.  Janet, you'll have to change out of your leotard into
your dress for that one.  All right?"  Janet nodded her understanding.
"All right now, ladies!," Tina commanded.  "We have an hour and a half
to get ready.  I want an hour before the first show to do a dress run-
through of all of it.  We are going to have two guest girls in here
with us from the other acts, so make them welcome.  Lets get to it!"

We all got our costume boxes.  Inside was a leotard covered in spark-
ling blue and green sequins just like Tina's dress.  The leotard had a
neckline that connected to a wide choker collar, but no back from the
shoulders to the waist, and no sleeves.  It did have a built in padded
push-up bra, and I was pleased with that.  It gave me a very nice bust-
line.  The small headpiece was actually a rhinestone tiara, but the
large one was straight out of Las Vegas.  It was over a foot high, and
almost two feet wide, and all blue and green peacock feathers.  The
cape was just plain aqua satin, but with a high flared collar.

There was no striptease or joking in the dressing room tonight.  We
could have all the fun we wanted at rehearsals, but this was business.
It was not all that different from a professional show.  People came to
"The Gilded Grape" to see the show, and that meant money to Gerry, the
owner.  We did a lot of work for no pay to put the show on, but we got
the fun of doing it, and some professional exposure.  All of us had
eyes on some kind of an entertainment career, and drag bar or not,
there were professionals in that audience who could help.  One of the
"Rockettes" was actually a sex-change who got her start, and was dis-
covered as one of the "G.G.Girls"!

We were all in costume soon enough, and Tina showed us the way she wan-
ted us to walk in the show girl numbers to back up Janet's songs, and
for one of the other acts.  It just consisted of spreading the cape,
and holding it up with our outspread arms as if it were wings while we
walked from pose to pose with a pretty smile pasted on our faces.  Tina
was very concerned that we do it exactly right.

About ten minutes before the show I managed to slip away for a peek at
the audience.  As he had promised, Peter was there sitting at a table
near the front.  I wanted to do my best more than ever now.  He could
have just sat at the bar, or stood in the back.  "The Gilded Grape"
charged a five dollar cover per show to sit at one of the tables around
the stage while the show was going on.  Peter's table was marked "Pri-
vate", so that meant that he had paid twenty dollars for a private tab-
le.  The card on the table also showed that he had it as his private
table for the whole evening.  This was 1966, so forty dollars was quite
a bit to spend to see the same drag show twice.  He really did want to
see me!

We were all lined up behind the curtain in kick line order when at ex-
actly nine o'clock Tina, in her role as Mistress of Ceremonies, stepped
onto the stage as the house lights dimmed, and the stage lights came up
to start the show.  I heard her give a brief synopsis of the acts, and
then raise her voice to say, "...and the fabulous G.G.Girls!"  The cur-
tain parted, and we launched into a high-kick chorus line number to
start the show.  My stage debut had begun!

The number lasted only a few minutes, and we parted the line in the
middle to dance off into the wings as the next act, a comedy troupe of
three Gay male acrobats, came out from backstage between us.  We went
to the dressing room to change to our show girl costumes.

"Did your boyfriend show up?," asked Patty as we sat on the dressing
bench to catch our breath.  "Yes," I answered, "he's here!  He's at a
table alone on the right."  Patty lit a cigarette, and took a deep
puff.  "I thought that was him," she said.  "He's cute!  Treat him
nice, or I just might try to steal him away from you," she added with a
laugh.

We did our show girl numbers to back up one of the other acts, and
Janet's songs which went over very well.  During the songs I noticed
that Margo had now joined Peter at his table, and I wondered what that
was all about.  One more costume change, and we were back on stage as a
chorus line for the high-kick finale of the show.  We had an hour and a
half between shows, so I stripped off my leotard, and borrowed a plain
blue shirtdress from Billie to go out and see Peter.

"Hello!," said Peter standing to greet me as I approached his table.
"You looked wonderful on stage!," he added as I kissed him in greeting,
and we sat down.  "Yes," said Margo.  "I don't usually watch the shows,
but I just couldn't miss your first one.  I thought I recognized Peter
here, and he was kind enough to ask me to join him for a cocktail."

The comments sounded innocent enough, but it bothered me to have Margo
sitting here with Peter.  She was always trying to find ways to get in-
volved in whatever I was doing especially if it involved men.  At first
it was just a sort of "big sister" sort of thing, but it was already
starting to change into something else.  Margo was getting jealous of
me.  She saw me becoming the woman that she had wanted to be, but never
had.  It was her drinking and prostitution that had kept her from it,
but she could not see that.  It depressed her, and that made her drink
all the more.  It was a vicious circle.

I had a soda with them, and we talked for a while.  Peter kept compli-
menting me on how nice I looked, and how well I had performed on stage.
Margo kept telling him how she had got me started, and what good
friends we were.  What she said was all basically true, but the way she
said it made it appear that she had done it all, and I had little part
in it.  It was embarrassing, but soon I had to get ready for the second
show.  I excused myself, and went backstage.

"How did it go?," asked Patty as I took off the dress, and got back in-
to costume.  I sighed, and said, "About as well as it could with Margo
buzzing around like the queen of the hive."  Patty nodded, and said, "I
saw some of that.  Maybe I can help you after the show.  Two of my reg-
ular johns are here.  I'll try to get her onto one of them, so you can
have some time with your boyfriend."  That made me feel a lot better.
It also made me feel good that Patty would talk so openly about her
prostitution with me.  We all did it, but only real friends talked
about it openly that way.  I liked being Patty's friend.

The second show went just like the first except that there was a bigger
audience.  This was normal.  Most of the people who frequented "The
Gilded Grape" did not come out until about ten o'clock.  Margo spent
the whole show glued to Peter's table.  Why did she have to pull this
stunt tonight of all nights?!

The second show was over at 12:30AM, and we all slumped back into the
dressing room.  We were tired.  It had been a long day for all of us,
and the lateness of the hour did not help either.  Dancing is a very
tiring thing.  I would have liked to have just gone home to bed, but I
had a date.  That gave me a second wind.  This was one date that I wan-
ted to keep!

I stripped off all of my clothes, and even took my penis out of its
tuck.  All the exertion had made me rather hot and sweaty, and the cool
air all over my body made me feel better.  I was still nude when Patty
arrived.

"Well," she said, "but don't we look all hot and sexy!  I hope Peter
appreciates what he is getting when he gets your little ass in bed
later."  I still was not sure if Peter was going to be getting me in
bed, but I took what Patty said as a strange sort of compliment.  "I
fixed it up with one of my johns," Patty continued.  "I told him that I
was busy, but that I would fix him up with Margo after I changed.  You
own me one."

I thanked Patty with a hug, and put on my robe.  It was time for our
shower, so we went into the shower room.  We did not talk much while we
showered.  As we were leaving, Patty said, "I'll go out first, and take
care of Margo.  Give me about ten minutes before you come out."  That
was not a problem.  I wanted to take my time dressing up for Peter.

Patty dressed quickly, and was gone.  The others were done too, so in a
minute I was alone except for Billie who was puttering about putting
the costumes away.  I took out my green jersey dress, and got ready to
see Peter.  I decided to leave my canvas bag in my locker, and pick it
up tomorrow.

I was just folding my lace shawl over my arm when Tina came in.  "My,
but don't we look sexy!," she purred in a catty sort of way.  "I'll bet
you have a date with that stud that's been talking to Margo out front.
Well, just save some of that sweet ass of your's for me!"  She winked
at me, and left.  I wondered how she knew about my date with Peter, but
the gossip flowed like water in "The Gilded Grape" all the time, and I
guessed that the story of Peter and I was all over the place by then.
She was also telling me that she wanted me in bed again too at some
point.  That was all right, but not tonight!

I stepped out into the bar, and looked over at Peter's table.  Patty
was over there, and she and Margo were talking.  They left Peter alone
at the table, and went over to two guys standing against the wall.
Patty had come through.  I did owe her one now.

"Well, hello!," Peter said greeting me for the second time that night,
but with a big smile now.  I sat down at the table, and ordered a
drink.  No soda this time.  Work was over, and I wanted to have some
fun.  Peter and I talked happily until two o'clock in the morning.  By
then I was just too tired to go on, so Peter suggested that he walk me
home.

We talked more all the time we walked.  I took his arm, and held it
tightly.  I do not know if Peter knew it then, but I was falling for
him.  All he had to do was ask, and I would have done absolutely any-
thing he wanted me to.

Peter took me all the way to the door of my apartment.  I demurely took
out my keys, and handed them to him.  He unlocked the door, and pushed
it open.  I stepped into the doorway, and looked up at him.  He took me
in his arms at last, and kissed me deeply.  I melted to him, and felt
my penis stiffen back in my crotch.  I pressed my thigh against him,
and felt that his cock was also hard.  It felt good pressing against me
that way.  I wanted it pressing into me in another way too!

Peter broke the kiss, and said, "No, not tonight.  I want everything to
be just right for us when it does happen."  I was a little surprised,
but I was happy too.  I was glad that he saw me as more than just an
easy piece of ass.  I had fallen in love with Peter, and I wanted it
all to be right too.

Peter kissed me once more, and then left promising to call me tomorrow.
I went in, and straight to bed.  All I could think of was Peter.

Margo came in at about 5:00AM.  She and Patty had done a foursome with
the two guys at Patty's apartment, and she had made one hundred dol-
lars.  Margo had her television set, and I had fallen in love.  Not a
bad night all things considered.


Sub-title: Pretty as a Picture

I arrived at work on Tuesday morning at my normal time, but this was
not to be exactly a normal day.  I would only put in a half-day today.
I was going for my interview this afternoon for my first modeling job,
and that could be my first real job as a woman.  My friend Paul from
the Personnel Department had set it up for me, and I was feeling very
excited about it.

The appointment was set for two o'clock, and I would be able to leave
the store at noon.  That gave me two hours to go home, change into a
dress, and get to the interview.  The company that was holding the in-
terviews was on 38th Street just off 7th Avenue.  That was only a few
blocks from the department store where I worked as a stockboy, but I
would need to take a cab home, and then another to the interview in or-
der to make it.

Edith was a little disappointed that we would not be able to have lunch
together today as we usually did.  We had talked about the interview
over lunch on Monday, and I had also told her all about my stage debut,
and what happened with Peter.

I could also report to her that Peter had telephoned me, as he had pro-
mised to do, on Sunday evening.  He and I had talked for quite a long
time then, and I had found that he shared some of the feelings for me
as I had for him.  I did not want to make too much of it all yet, but
it was something that we might build on as time went on.  Edith was
very pleased by what was happening in that department.  "We've never
had a lawyer in the family before," she said.  "Hold on to him if you
can.  A mother likes for her daughter to do well like that!"

Tuesday morning passed quickly enough, and noon arrived.  I picked up
my bag in the office, and Edith wished me luck.  We decided to meet
later after the interview for dinner, so I could tell her all about it.
I hurried down to the time clock room to punch out, and ran into Paul.
He was there on the pretext of checking time cards, but I think that he
really just wanted to see me.

"Hi, Bobbi," he said as I entered the room.  We were alone in there, so
I greeted him by blowing him a kiss.  He smiled at that, and said, "I
wanted to, err... wish you luck on the interview today.  I just know
that Jack is going to, err... like you.  I also, err... wanted to ask
if you were, err... busy on Friday night?"  I looked at him with a
sweet smile, and said, "I've got a dance class on Friday nights, but I
could meet you after that.  You could come to my place."  I had agreed
to be his mistress, and it was now time to make good on that promise.

"Ok," Paul said, "I'll call you tonight to find out how the interview
went, and, err... set up the time for Friday."  "All right," I said.
"I'll be looking forward to hearing from you!"  I punched my card, and
left the store giving my ass a good wiggle for his benefit as I walked
away.  I had things to do, and places to go.

I turned right when I walked out of the employees entrance, and walked
the short distance up to 5th Avenue.  There would be more cabs there
than on 39th Street.  I probably could have made it from the depart-
ment store to home, and from home to the interview just as fast by
walking as by taxi with all the midtown traffic, but I wanted to look
my best for the interview.  I was nervous enough about it without ad-
ding being tired and out of breath from walking fast in heels to that.
There was a cab dropping off a pudgy, middle-aged woman in a full-len-
gth mink coat in front of the department store, and I hopped in when
she got out.

Dressed in jeans and loafers as I was there was no teasing the driver
with a quick peek up my skirt in his rear-view mirror this time.  All I
could do was tell him where I wanted to go, and sit back as we made our
way through the Manhattan bustle.  Today could be the day that I turned
the corner.  If this interview worked out it could be the start of me
being able to both live and work as a woman on a full-time basis.  I
wanted that so very much.  The jeans I wore were tight and sexy enough
to almost be women's jeans, but they were not.  I wanted to be in a
skirt and heels all the time.

The taxi deposited me in front of my apartment building a few minutes
later.  I paid the driver, and got out.  I wasted no time in getting
upstairs to my apartment.  I had a lot to do, and not much time to do
it.  I really had to look all female today.

Once in the apartment, I went into my bedroom, and stripped off every
stitch of clothing.  I took a long look at myself in the full-length
mirror.  My penis was out of its usual tuck back between my legs, so
what I saw was a rather strange looking, long haired, and very effem-
inate boy.  I vowed then that this would be the last time that anyone
would ever see me in that context if I could at all help it.  I was
about to be interviewed for a job as a woman, and that was the way that
I would present myself from then on.  I tucked my penis back between my
legs.  That was where it was going to stay until I found the way to
have it removed.  It was the last barrier to my being a completely fe-
male as I could be.  I wanted it cut off as soon as possible.

I reached into my closet, and got out a pink satin robe which I pulled
around me.  I just about had time for a quick shower, so I went into
the bathroom to let the warm, soapy water wash away the thoughts of the
morning spent as a boy.  I had to be more woman that I had yet been
this afternoon.  The people who would be interviewing me had me listed
as a woman, and to get the job, I could no nothing at all that would
give them any other impression.  I might be able to let a few details
slide once in a while when I was at "The Gilded Grape" with the rest of
the drag queens, or even out on the street under no more scrutiny than
the quick glance of a passer-by, but this was different.  These people
wanted female models, and they were going to look all of us who showed
up for the job over very carefully.  I had to look good enough to best
the real girls who would be there.  I had to be all the woman I could
possibly be.

I stepped out of the shower, and unwraped the towel that I had put on
my head like a turban to keep my hair dry.  My real hair was long
enough now that I did not need to wear a wig.  I went to the mirror to
fuss it back into the basics of the feminine style in which I now wore
it.  The waves and curls had been a surprise to those who knew me as a
boy, but they passed it off as just another indication of me being a
queer.  Edith liked it, and so did I, so that was that.

I toweled off, and splashed some perfumed after-bath lotion all over
myself.  I was beginning to feel a lot more feminine now, and that was
just what I wanted.  I put my robe back on, and headed for the bedroom.

I did not have too much time left, so I tossed the robe onto the bed,
and dipped right into my lingerie drawer.  I pulled a pair of my sexy-
est black lace panties up over my legs, and tucked my penis securely
back into my crotch as far as I could stretch it.  The panties were
tight enough to both hold my penis there, and make me feel like the
sexy woman that I was.

I buckled a black lace garter-belt around my waist, and hooked a pair
of my sheerest stockings to it after I slipped my legs into them.  A
matching black lace bra soon was hooked around my chest, and filled as
best I could with my tiny breasts.  The bra was an extra-padded one be-
cause I did not want to use my falsies in case I had to remove my blou-
se for any reason.

I put on a red silk blouse with very short sleeves, a scooped shawl-
like neckline, and buttons down the back to top off my tight black
skirt that fell to just above my knees.  Am application of red lipstick
and pink eye shadow followed my foundation, face powder, and blush.  A
single strand of pearls adorned my neck, and pearl dangle earrings hung
from my lobes.

I stepped into a pair of black patent leather pumps with four inch he-
els, and put on a black jacket to match the skirt to which I affixed a
pearl scatter pin.  I put my things into a black patent leather bag
with a shoulder strap, and I was ready to go.  I took a last look in
the mirror, and I was on my way.

Out on the street again, I walked up to 8th Avenue to hail a cab.  It
was about 1:30PM, so I still had half an hour to get to the interview.
I got a whistle from some men who were digging up the street, so I knew
that I had accomplished what I had set out to do.  I looked as much
like a woman as I could.  I only hoped that I looked good enough to get
the job.

It only took a short time to find a cab, and we were off into the beep
and creep of midtown traffic.  It took some twenty minutes to get to
the address that I had given the driver, so I arrived at the building
with about ten minutes to go before my appointment.  I paid the driver,
and went upstairs to find the coat company.  There were about fourteen
other women in the reception area when I arrived.

"May I help you?," said the receptionist as I approached.  "I'm here
about the modeling job," I said with a smile.  "All right, she ans-
wered, "so are the others here.  Fill this out, and take a seat.  Jack
will be with you in just a few minutes."  She handed me a simple name
and address form which I filled out while I sat waiting for Jack.  I
also took out the note from Paul to give him with the form.  Some of
the others had noted or letters too, so I thought it would be a good
idea.

A few minutes later a short, middle-aged, and very well dressed man
came out of the office entrance to the reception area, and introduced
himself to the group.  It was Paul's friend Jack, and he asked, "If you
ladies will please follow me, we can get started now."  We all rose
almost in unison, and followed Jack through the door into the offices.

I was the sixth in line, and when I went through the door I found my-
self in a wide corridor with doors going off it in all directions.
People were bustling about off to the left along the longest part of
the corridor, but we turned right where only three doors awaited us.
The first door was unmarked, the second had a sign that read "Board
Room" on it, and the last at the end of the corridor said "Showroom" on
it.  Jack led us through this last door, and into the Showroom.

Inside was a large room with a low stage running across the wall to the
far left.  The stage had a runway jutting about half way out into the
room, and around this were seats for about fifty people.  There were
theatrical lights on tracks in the ceiling.  This was where they held
fashion shows for the store buyers who were their customers.  There
were three men and a woman sitting on the far side of the runway from
us.  "Take a seat, ladies," said Jack, "and we will explain what we are
looking for."

We all sat down, and Jack mounted the runway to face us.  "I want first
to thank you all for coming here today," he began in even tones with
only the hit of a slight Brooklyn accent that he was desperately trying
to hide.  "We are looking specifically for models for our new spring
line of all-weather coats, but that does not preclude other assignments
if we feel you are qualified.  We need five models, so I am sorry if
that means that some of you will be disappointed.  We have some defin-
ite ideas of what we are looking for.  We want some new faces, so that
is why we have not called for a group of professional models.  When I
am finished I want you all to line up across the stage in the same or-
der that you entered the room.  If you have portfolios or purses, leave
them at your seats.  If you have jackets, coats, or sweaters, please
leave them also.  Bring your referral letters, and the form you filled
out outside.  All right, ladies.  Let's go."

I put my purse on the seat, and folded my jacket over it.  I looked
over the rest of the women there again as I walked to the stage.  They
were all tall and lovely.  It was also hard to believe that I could be
one of the five that would be chosen when this was over, but I had come
this far.  I was not about to back out now.  Maybe I would be lucky
enough to get this job.  There was only one way to find out.  I ascen-
ded to the stage, and took my place in line.

We all formed a long line across the stage against the backdrop cur-
tain.  There was just barely enough room up there for all of us.  We
must have looked like a cross between a police line-up and a chorus
line.  One of the men from our tiny audience came up on stage, and
handed each of us a large card with a number on it.  He took our name
and address forms too, and wrote the number we had from the card onto
them.  Attached to each card was a large loop of cloth ribbon.  "Put
this around your neck with the number hanging in front," he said, and
went back to his seat.

Jack then came up to us with a raincoat over his arm, and said, "What
we want you to do is the following.  Each of you will put this coat on,
and walk to the end of the runway.  There you will open it to show the
lining, do a turn, close the coat, and return to your place in line.
Then take off the coat, and pass it to the next girl in line.  Please
wait in the line until everyone has a chance, and do not start down the
runway until we call your number.  We may also ask some of you to model
the coat a second time.  If you all cooperate, we will be finished
soon."  Jack then gave the coat to the number one girl, and went to
take a seat with the others.

Some of the women on stage shuffled their feet nervously, and looked
like they did not know what to do with their hands while we waited for
Jack and the others to get a good look at us before we modeled the
coat.  I forced myself to move as little as possible.  I was trying to
show that I had the poise of a professional model.  I hoped Jack not-
iced.

"All right!," called Jack out of the darkness of the audience as the
stage lights came on.  "Could we have number one on the runway, plea-
se?"  The girl wearing the number one put on the coat, and headed down
the runway.  She was pretty enough, but with a touch of stiffness in
her walk.  I was number six, so I adopted a slight pose in the way I
was standing, and waited my turn.  It did not take long.

"Six, please!," came Jack's voice out of the offstage gloom at last.  I
took the coat from the brunette who had just finished her audition, and
put it on.  My heart was beating a little faster than normal, so I took
a deep breath.  It was my turn in the spotlight.

I walked as light and delicately as I could down the runway with just a
hint of a wiggle in my hips, and my prettiest smile on my face.  I re-
minded myself not to walk too fast, so they would have the chance to
look me over well.  The knowledge that Jack and the others were out
there in the dark looking over every detail of me was a turn-on, and my
penis twitched a little in its tuck back between my legs in my panties.
I did my best to ignore it, and held my head high to look my best.

At the end of the runway I opened the coat, and held the right side out
to model the lining while I did my turn.  I did not look down at my
audience, but stared off into the darkness above their heads.  When the
turn was finished I spread both sides of the coat with my back to them,
and took my first step back toward the stage area.  On the second step
I pulled the coat closed again, and headed back to the line of girls
where I had started.  At the line, I turned on the balls of my feet,
slowly removed the coat, tossed my head seductively to clear my hair,
and passed the coat to the number seven girl before again taking my
pose to wait while the rest had their turn.

The number seven girl nodded her head knowingly at me when I gave her
the coat.  She seemed to be telling me that I had done well.  I hoped
that she was right.

It really did not take all that long to get through all the girls who
had shown up, but that fourty-five minutes seemed like an eternity of
waiting for me.  I really wanted this modeling job, but I knew that I
was very different from the others.  That made me all the more anxious,
and made the wait feel even longer.  It was also stretched out a bit
more when they asked two girls to model the coat a second time.

Finally Jack said, "All right, ladies.  Stay right there while we de-
cide."  This was it!  We would know in a moment if we had been chosen
or not.

Again the wait seemed to go on forever.  I could head them talking in
the seats down near the end of the runway.  I could not make out what
they were saying, but I could swear I heard them mention my number at
least three times.  The uncertainty was agonizing.

Suddenly the house lights came on again, and Jack announced, "All
right, ladies!  We have made our decision.  When I call your number,
please get your things from where you left them, and come over here."
He pointed to a row of seats behind him, and held up a sheet of paper
to read.  In even, measured tones he called out, "Three...  Seven...
Twelve...  Six...  Fourteen..."

I was stunned!  Jack had called my number as one of the five!  The
other girls started to go and get their things, but it was as if I had
been riveted to the spot on which I stood.  Somehow I had done it.  I
had managed to get one of the modeling jobs over the competition of
some quite beautiful real women.  I could hardly believe it.  Haltingly
I went to get my jacket and purse, and joined the other four girls in
the row of seats behind Jack.  I was now a model!

"We would like to thank the rest of you for coming," I could hear Jack
saying, "and we will keep your telephone numbers on file.  Please do
not call us.  We will call you if we need you."  It was a standard
line, and one that most models know all too well.  I, however, had the
job I wanted even if it was only part-time.

The girls who were not chosen came down from the stage to collect their
things, and leave.  Some of them had not even waited for Jack to finish
speaking before they did.  It is not easy to get a job as a model with
a top fashion house.  The competition is warlike in its intensity.  The
established professionals get the best spots.  The coat company was by
no means a top fashion house, but it was better than a novice model
could hope for under normal circumstances.

There was no professional competition here.  Just get referred by some-
one, and pass the audition.  A lot of hopes died that day, but some
others were strengthened too.  I was feeling very good about myself
that afternoon.  I had come a long way.

"Congratulations, ladies!," Jack said to the five of us after the oth-
ers had left.  "I have some other things to do now, so I cannot stay
with you, but before I go, I have two people whom I would like to in-
troduce."

The first person Jack introduced was a distinguished looking man in his
early sixties.  He was not very tall, but he was well dressed in a cus-
tom tailored suit, and he had a presence about him that said he was the
one in charge.  Jack introduced him as the President of the coat com-
pany, and said his name was Irving.

"I would like to welcome you all on behalf of the company," Irving
said.  "I hope that your stay with us will be pleasant and pleasurable
on both sides.  I hope too that we may get to know each other a lot
better very soon."  Irving had put a lot of emphasis on the word
"pleasurable", and on getting to know us better.  What he wanted out of
this was all too obvious.

Irving left with all the rest of the little audience as an entourage
except for the man who had given us the number cards.  Jack introduced
him as Tom, and said he would be the photographer in charge of us.  Tom
was in his late thirties, about six feet tall, athletic, and quite han-
dsome.  I am sure that I was not the only one there who would have
liked to have gotten to know him better instead of Irving.  He was
dressed in a blue blazer with grey slacks.  He took his tie off as soon
as Irving was gone.  He looked like he would be fun to work under!

"I will leave you ladies in Tom's capable hands," said Jack getting a
wry giggle or two out of us with the unintentional double entente.  "He
will get you started, and tell you where you have to be and when."
Jack then left us, and all eyes turned to Tom.

Tom looked back at us with one of the cutest "little boy" smiles I have
ever seen.  He was now our boss on this job, but even if he had not
been, I doubt there was a girl there who would not have done almost
anything he asked.  Tom was a photographer by trade, but the company
retained him here as more of a director of photography, stage manager,
and manager of the models.  He was responsible for the stage and its
lighting, the official company photography at any of the shows, allo-
cating show invitations to outside photographers, all catalog or adver-
tising photography, and the hiring and management of models.

The job sounded a lot more impressive than it actually was.  If Tom
spent a total of thirty days a year on it, he would be doing more than
it entailed.  This company was really not that big.  This fashion show
stage and runway had been built as much for ego as for need.  They
rented it out to other companies when they could.  The company and the
jobs in it were not all that impressive.  What was impressive at that
moment was the fact that I had one of those jobs as a model.

"Hi!," said Tom after a minute or two of looking us over.  "Now that
they're gone, we can talk a little.  I know that you're all excited
about getting modeling jobs here, but we've got some work to do now.
This job just ain't that big a deal.  It pays well enough when you're
working, but you're not working all that much.  What is a big deal is
the exposure.  You get seen here at the couple of shows that we'll do,
you get seen in the catalog, you get seen in the ads, and you get seen
in my proofs that I show to other photographers.  I'm going to give you
all a standard modeling contract.  It isn't with this place.  It's with
my studio."

We all sort of looked at each other at this point.  I guess all of us
assumed that we would be employed by the coat company.  Tom continued,
"You're assigned exclusively to this gig, but you'll be working for my
studio.  You do the coats under a contract that I have with old Irving
that you met.  It's a lot better for you that way.  If you worked for
Irving, that would be it, but working for me, you might get an extra
assignment or two as well.  The only hitch is that if you do an assign-
ment for another photographer outside of my studio staff, and notify me
of it, I get ten percent of your fee off the top.  If you do it with-
out notifying me, though, I get twenty-five percent when I find out,
and you loose your contract with me.  Understand?"

We all nodded, so Tom went on, "Okay!  As long as we all understand the
business stuff, we can get down to what you all came here for in the
first place."  He raised the inflection as he finished the sentence by
way of making it an injection of humor into what had almost become a
heavy situation.

"You all want to be models, right?," Tom asked, and we all nodded and
murmured agreement.  "Okay, then the first lesson is that the photog-
rapher is boss!  I don't mean to make that sound harsh, but that's the
way it is.  Any creative control that you may want over what you do in
front of the lens will have to wait for later in your career.  The sec-
ond lesson is that the photographer is always right!  Remember, you're
new to this, and my people and I have been at it for a while.  No mat-
ter what you may have learned in any modeling school, we have the ex-
perience, so trust us.  The third and last lesson for today is that if
you have a problem, remember lessons one and two!"

Tom sat back in his chair to let us react to what he had said, and took
out a pipe.  He filled the bowl, lit it, and then said, "Okay, if you
have no questions, I need to get a Polaroid of each of you for my file.
Will you come up on stage?"  He motioned for one of the girls to join
him on stage.  He posed her standing by the curtained backdrop, and
took a head to toe shot with his camera.  Then he did the same with
each of us.  I was the third one to be photographed.

Back in the seats, Tom re-lit his pipe, and said, "I've got an envelope
here for each of you.  In it is a contract, some personnel forms, and
my business card.  There is also a sheet explaining what will be expec-
ted of you when we call you in for test shots.  My office will call you
this week to set up a time for those.  It will be sometime next week.
That's all, girls!  See you in the studio."  He handed us our envel-
opes, and headed out the door.  We got our things together, and started
out too.  We were on our way to being models.  I rather liked that.

I slipped my jacket back on, and picked up my purse.  Some of the oth-
ers took a moment to open the envelopes, and glance through the conten-
ts.  "Well, it looks like we're going to be working together," a buxom
blonde in a floral print dress said to me as we turned to leave.  "My
name's Judy.  What's yours?"  I turned to her, and said, "Bobbi.  Is
this your first modeling job too?"  The conversation was as much to get
rid of the bit of nervousness we were both feeling after all of this,
as it was to be friendly.

"Yes," Judy answered, "I've been taking modeling lessons for almost a
year now.  We did some, oh... amateur things through the school, but
this is my first real job.  What school did you go to?"  I was a little
surprised at the question, so I said, "I don't go to modeling school.
What made you think that I did?"  Now it was Judy's turn to look sur-
prised.  "Oh," she said, "it was just that you moved so well out on the
runway, that I thought you had some sort of training."  I was flatter-
ed, so I said, "Thank you.  I didn't go to modeling school, but I do
take dance classes."  "Oh," said Judy, "then that explains it.  I just
knew you had some sort of training."

We stepped through the door, and ran into Irving coming out of the
boardroom.  He leered at us looking us all over with a lecherous glint
in his eyes, and said, "I hope that Tom made you girls feel welcome
here.  We have a nice place, and there are lots of places an ambitious
girl can go if she knows what to do, and knows the right people."  He
was not subtle at all.  We could see from the way he looked our bodies
over that he had us already naked in his mind.  I liked having most men
look at me that way, but I found Irving positively distasteful.  The
look in Judy's eyes said that she felt the same way.  We thanked him,
and continued on our way out.

In the reception area Judy said, "First hazard of being a model.  The
executive who thinks we are his private stable just because he signs
the cheques.  Some of the girls at school talked about it.  At least he
hasn't gotten to trying to cop a quick feel yet!"  There was a lot of
venom in the way she said that.

Judy and I parted company on the street.  She said that she had another
appointment to go to, and she did not want to be late.  We said the
usual things about going shopping together some time, and spending time
just making "girl talk" some evening.  I liked Judy, and I would not
mind having her for a friend, but I wondered if we would ever get to
doing those things.  Everybody said it to each other, but it only hap-
pened for real once in a while.

I decided to walk home.  It was only about half past four, and I thou-
ght I might do a little shopping along the way.  Actually I wanted to
celebrate!  I had pulled off something that other TV's only dreamed
about.  Not only had I gotten a job as a woman, but I had gotten a job
that would be envied by almost any real woman!  I was floating on a
cloud!  It was almost too good to be true.

I turned toward 5th Avenue, and started walking up the street.  If I
was going to buy something to celebrate this momentous occasion, I wan-
ted it to be something nice, and all the best shops were there.  I even
toyed with the idea of going into the store where I worked, but I was
afraid that someone might recognize me.  Just as I started walking, I
heard someone call my name.  It was Tom.

I walked over to where he was standing, and returned the greeting.  He
said, "I've been waiting for you to come out, and I hoped you'd be
alone.  I'd like to talk to you away from the others in private."  I
was puzzled by this, but curious too, so I said, "Sure, what's on your
mind?"  Tom shook his head, and said, "Not here.  There's a bar just up
the street.  Could I buy you a drink?"  "Okay," I answered, so we wal-
ked to the bar, and went inside.  I did not understand why he wanted to
talk to me this way.

The bar was dark inside compared with the sunlight outside.  It was a
nice place.  This was not some seedy dive.  It was not elegant, but it
was clean with a barman in a uniform.  It was the sort of place where
garment center area executives went for lunch, or for a drink after
work.  We went to a booth opposite the bar, and sat down.  The cocktail
waitress was there immediately.

"What would you like, Bobbi?," Tom asked.  I wanted to say champagne to
go with the way I was feeling, but I settled for a gin and tonic.  Tom
ordered a scotch and water, neat, and the girl went to the bar for the
drinks.  When she went away, I asked, "What's on your mind, Tom?"

Tom lit his pipe, and looked thoughtful for a moment.  He leaned for-
ward to me, and said, "You got that job on your own merit, but you
didn't tell us quite everything about you.  Did you?"  I was rather
taken aback by this, so I asked, "What do you mean?"  Just then the
waitress returned with our drinks.  The conversation stopped while she
put them down, and we took our first sips.

"Don't worry," Tom said as he put down his drink.  "I'm not going to
say anything about it.  Your secret is safe.  An associate of mine and
I caught the show at 'The Gilded Grape' a week or so ago.  I sometimes
go there looking for talent for one of my enterprises, and I saw you in
the chorus line.  You looked very good up there.  It really surprised
me, though, when I spotted you on the stage today."

I was shocked to the core!  I never expected this.  I took a deep dr-
ink, and tried to compose my thoughts.  What was going to happen now?
I thought for a moment, and then said, "All right, but how is that go-
ing to affect this job?"

"It's not going to affect this job at all," Tom said with a chuckle.
"Look, you got this job because you have what we're looking for.  You
are going to model those coats, and nobody is going to take that away
from you as long as I have anything to say about it.  You're good at
that, and you'll make me look good with the photographs.  To me, that
means money, and that's all I care about.  I don't care what you are,
as long as you do your job."

That made me feel a little better.  I still was not happy about the
situation, but it was starting to look like I could live with it.  I
wanted the modeling job.  I would do anything to keep it.  Now all I
needed to know was what Tom really wanted out of this.  He must have
more up his sleeve.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that," I said.  "I appreciate your telling me
right away."  Tom re-lit his pipe, and blew some smoke rings into the
air above his head.  "Besides," he continued, "I like putting one over
on old Irving.  You were one of the ones that he was eyeing up.  He
thinks that he is some sort of don juan with the models because some of
them will give him a tumble thinking they will get ahead by balling the
company president.  I can't stand the old bastard."  We both laughed,
and I told Tom about the meeting Judy and I had with Irving in the
hallway.  We had another good laugh over that.  I was getting to like
Tom.

When we finished laughing, we ordered another drink, and Tom said,
"There is one other thing I want to talk to you about," with a thought-
ful look on his face again.  I knew there had to be something else.  I
put on my most innocent smile, and said, "Oh?  What might that be?"

"I have a lot of projects going," he said in a matter of fact business-
like way, "and you just might fit into some of them if you're willing."
Tom leaned forward to me again, and said, "Look, I don't just do fash-
ion stuff.  I have photographers doing all sorts of things in both
stills and movies.  I've got a business proposition for you.  I have a
couple of things going that require someone with your, shall we say...
special talents?"

Tom sat back again, and said, "I'll be frank with you.  The jobs I'm
talking about are nudes.  Some of them are pornography.  I want to do
some nude and striptease photographic layouts involving a transvestite.
If your willing to do sexual things for the camera with a male actor,
we can us it in the stills, and maybe a movie or two.  We'll make you
look different from the legitimate fashion stuff with a wig and make-
up.  Don't get the idea that this is some sort of photographer's lure
to get you naked.  I'm not into boys.  This is just a plain business
deal.  You get a double fee for the stills, and standard actress pay
for movies.  What do you think?"  I was a little surprised to hear
myself saying, "As long as it doesn't screw up the modeling job, I'll
do it!"

I could hardly believe what I had just said.  I had just agreed to do
some transvestite pornography.  That was the sort of thing that Star,
one of the other "G.G.Girls" did.  I had thought of asking her about
it, but we had not gotten close enough as friends for me to do that.  I
had wanted to try it just for the thrill.  Now this handsome photog-
rapher just asked me out of the blue to do it.  I could use the extra
money too, but I did not want to hurt my standing with any legitimate
jobs I could do.

I voiced my concern to Tom, saying, "How is this going to affect the
job I just got, and any others in or out of modeling?"  Tom lit his
pipe again, and said, "I've already told you that the job at the coat
company is your's, and that's that.  As for anything else, well, my
studio will give you any other assignments that we feel you're quali-
fied for.  Look, almost all fashion models have done some nudes at some
point in their career.  Most of those have at least done cheesecake
stiff, if not actual porno.  The things you're going to do are highly
unlikely to be seen by anyone who sees your fashion stuff, and we'll
make sure that you look different enough in the nudes that nobody will
ever be sure it's you."

Tom leaned toward me again, and finished by saying, "I've been scout-
ing drag queens for a while looking for the right one.  I have a rep-
utation to maintain.  I don't use anyone in my shots that doesn't look
good, or make me look good.  You qualify on both points.  If you can
pull off getting that job today, I know that you'll make me look good,
and as far as your looks are concerned, well, you're just pretty as a
picture!"

We both laughed at his little photographer's pun.  Somehow I trusted
Tom.  He was only interested in my body as far as he could use it to
make money, and he was willing to share that with me in model and act-
ress fees in a fair way.  He was not like Irving and others like him,
who only wanted my body to paw for their own pleasure even if, like the
johns I turned tricks with, they were willing to pay for the privilege.
All Tom wanted was a business deal.  That was something I could live
with.

We finished our drinks, and Tom called for the tab.  "I have to get go-
ing," he said.  "We'll talk more about all of this when you come into
the studio for your test shots."  He paid the waitress, and we went
outside again.  "You've got it, you know.  There's just something about
you that makes you special.  Not all models have that.  Don't ever
loose it," he said, and then stepped into the street to hail a cab.  In
a moment, he was gone, and I headed toward 5th Avenue to do that shop-
ping that I had started out to do an hour or so ago.

The crowds on 5th Avenue were at their height when I got there.  It was
about 5:30PM, and at that time of day all the offices had let out while
some of the stores were still open.  All of Manhattan's office force
were either making their way home, or shopping along with me.  Night
was already starting to creep in at the edges of the lengthening sha-
dows of twilight, so it would be dark in about an hour or so.  I step-
ped into a lingerie shop, and began to browse around.

I was looking at a baby-blue lace nightie when I noticed a young man
staring at me.  He was in his very early twenties or very late teens.
I could see that under the sweater and slacks that he was wearing, he
was slim with muscular limbs.  He had a cute little baby face which
smiled back at me when I looked at him.

"Do you like this nightie?," I said to him to break the ice between us.
"I'm always interested in a man's opinion of such things."  He looked
at the whisp of nylon and lace, and answered, "I think you would look
beautiful in it.  My name's Alan.  What's yours?"  "Bobbi," I said as
coyly as I could.  "Well, Bobbi," Alan said, "I could do with some din-
ner, but I hate eating alone.  Would I be being too forward if I asked
you to join me?"  The offer sounded good to me, so I agreed.  I just
had to be careful.  He was straight as far as I could tell.  It would
not do for him to find out that I was not quite all the woman he obvi-
ously thought I was.

I took his arm, and we walked up 5th Avenue to a restaurant on 45th
Street just east of 8th Avenue.  It was a nice evening for a walk, so
we did not bother with a taxi.  Besides, all the talking we would do
would let us get to know each other better.  Alan lived over in New
Jersey, and was actually home on leave from the Army.  It was not a
good time to be in the Army in those days of 1966, so I asked him what
his next assignment was going to be.  "I have orders for Viet-Nam,"
came his answer.

As we talked more, I found out that he was going to a combat unit, and
that he was due to leave in two days.  He did not seem scared, but
there was a definite uneasiness about him when we spoke of it then, or
when it came up later in conversation over dinner.  This was his last
night in New York City before he left.

We talked about a lot of things while we ate.  He told me all about his
training, and what he did in the Army.  He talked about what he wanted
to do when he got out.  I told him that I was a dancer and a model, but
that I was working in a department store while I got my career toge-
ther.  It was not a lie.

I found myself liking Alan very much, and wanting to talk more to him.
He suggested that we go for a walk after dinner, but I said, "No, I
think that I would like to sit and talk for a while.  We could go to my
apartment near here, but just talk, okay?"  Alan agreed, and promised
to be a gentleman.  I wished that I did not have to ask him to be that
way.  I felt a physical attraction to him, but I dared not pursue that.
There was no telling what a straight guy might do when he found some-
thing other than what he expected between my legs.

We got up from our table, and I took Alan's arm again.  It only took a
few minutes to walk to my apartment since it was only two blocks away.
I hoped that he would enjoy just talking like this.  The last night of
a soldier's leave before he went off to war should be something spe-
cial.  We went in, and I asked him to have a seat in the living room.
He sat on the sofa.

"Would you like a drink or coffee?," I asked.  He nodded, and said,
"Sure, do you have any scotch?"   I did, so I poured two on the rocks,
and carried them over to him.  I handed one to him, and put mine on the
coffee table.  Then I took off my jacket, and joined him on the couch.

"Cheers!," he said lifting his glass to me, and we both took a drink.
We continued our conversation from where we had left off.  He told me
all about his plans for the future, and I felt myself warming even more
to him.  I was so engrossed in listening to him that I did not notice
that he was inching closer to me until I realized that his arm was on
the back of the sofa behind me.

"You're getting a little closer than we agreed we would get, aren't
you?," I asked politely.  Alan did not move, but said, "I'm sorry, but
I just feel very attracted to you.  I would like to get even closer."
His words had a lot of affection in them, and I found myself wanting
him to get closer too.  It was crazy to think that I might pull this
off too like I had with the modeling job this afternoon.  I wanted him
to kiss me, and a lot more, but if he found out that I was not as much
of a woman as I presented myself to be, things could get ugly.  Maybe
all the drinks, and the wine at dinner were clouding my thinking, but I
thought I had a way to do even this.  I leaned my head back against his
arm, closed my eyes, and felt his lips press against mine.

I know now how foolish it was to be doing this with a straight guy who
did not know what I was, but I just could not help myself.  I felt his
arms enfold me, and we kissed some more.  I only hoped that I could
keep my penis safely out of the way no matter how it was starting to
harden in its concealment.

Then I felt his hand touch my breast, and my penis react in its tuck
between my legs.  He wanted more than a kiss, and I had to do some-
thing, so I said, "I'm having my period.  We can't do what you want to,
but be gentle, and maybe we'll find a way."  His other hand undid the
buttons at the back of my blouse, and in a moment I wore only my bra
above my waist.

"Okay," I said, "let me get comfortable."  I stood, and unhooked my
bra.  My tiny breasts were not much at all, but Alan stood to suck on
the nipples while I unzipped my skirt, and let it fall to the floor.
He was sending little shivers of pleasure all through me with his
sucking and nibbling.  His arms about my middle felt so good and
strong.  I was almost beyond caring if he found out what I was or not.
I only knew that it felt good to be held and touched by him.  He was
still kissing me while I unbuckled his belt to let his slacks drop
around his ankles.

I went to my knees before him, and slowly pulled down his briefs expos-
ing his hard, seven inch, circumcised cock in front of my face.  I took
hold of his muscular thighs, and moved closer to it.  I looked up into
his eyes, and he was smiling back at me.  "I told you we would find a
way," I said softly to him.  "We might not be able to do more than this
because of my period, but I'll make it good for you."  I turned my at-
tention back to his cock placing a gentle kiss on the tip, and licking
all around the head.  Alan shuddered in pleasure when I did this, and
my own little penis was throbbing like mad.  I dare not even think of
it having any release this time no matter how bad I was going to need
it.  I would have to take care of that myself later.

Alan sat down on the sofa again at my urging, and I took his cock in my
mouth completely for the first time.  It was hot, and it tasted ever so
good.  He would not have a blow-job like this again for quite a while,
so I gave him one of my best.  I was also counting on getting him to
give so much this way that he would forget about trying to do anything
else with me.  The story about my "period" would only go so far.  If
her tried to force himself on me, he was too strong for me to resist.

I did all the things that I know best how to do with a man's cock and
balls.  I licked the shaft and balls all over, taking his balls into my
mouth one at a time to juggle them on my tongue.  He shuddered in ecs-
tasy when I slipped the tip of my tongue into his pee-slit to taste the
drops of pre-cum that were waiting there for me to enjoy.  I raked my
nails gently over the hot crinkly flesh of his scrotum knowing full
well from personal experience what that would feel like to him.

At last I took the full length shaft of Alan's cock into my mouth, and
began to move my lips up and down as I worked it in and out of my mou-
th.  I started out slowly letting him enjoy each stroke while I contin-
ued to play with his balls with my hand.  Then I moved faster and fas-
ter until he could hold out no longer, and rewarded me with a huge
mouthful of hot, sticky, and salty cum.  I drank it all down greedily,
and then moved up on the sofa to sit next to him, and stroke his cock
while it softened.

We kissed, fondled, and cuddled a while longer, but soon he had to
leave to catch a bus back to New Jersey where he lived.  I would have
liked to have asked him to spend the night, but there was no way that I
could have concealed my penis from him for that long the way that I
felt about him.  It was best that he leave.

He pulled his pants back up, but I stayed in just my panties, garter-
belt, stockings, and heels.  He looked at me in the way that a man
looks at a real woman, for that was what I was to him.  I had pulled
off getting the job today, and I had pulled being seduced by a straight
man off tonight.  I was sure that things would not always go this well,
but I was extatic with myself that night.  It all went to just confirm-
ing that I was the woman that I knew I was, and that nothing should
stand in my way to the goal of being all the woman I could be.  I vowed
that nothing would!

Alan kissed me as he left, and I gave him my address and telephone num-
ber.  He wrote to me from Viet-Nam for about five months, and then the
letters just stopped.  I wrote to his company commander asking if he
was all right.  In return, I got a letter from the unit Chaplain tell-
ing me that Alan would write to me no more.  He had stepped on a mine,
and was killed outright.  I cried for him.  I only hoped that he had
enjoyed his last night on leave.


Sub-title: What the Doctor Ordered

It was morning, and I was awake in my bed.  The alarm clock had not yet
gone off, but light was peeking in through the window.  I stretched to
start to work the sleep from my body, and let memories of Alan from the
night before slide gently through my mind.  If I could have had my way,
I would have turned over to nestle in his strong arms this morning, but
he was not lying next to me.  He could not be.  He was straight, and
thought me the same.  He was not the sort of man who would have wil-
lingly woken up with a drag queen like me in his arms.

I glanced over at the clock, and saw that it was just before eight
o'clock.  This was late for me to be getting up on a Wednesday morning,
but today was not an ordinary day.  I had an appointment to see Dr.
Benjamin at ten-thirty to discuss the possibility of Sexual Reassign-
ment Surgery (SRS) for me.  Today could finally start me on the way to
becoming what I really wanted to be; a woman!

I swung my legs off the bed, and sat up just as the alarm went off.  I
stopped it, and heard the sounds of Margo puttering about in the kit-
chen making breakfast.  I put a robe on over my nightie, and went to
join her.  I could use some coffee right now.

Margo was sitting at the table drinking coffee and smoking a cigarette
when I got there.  "Well," she said, "so you finally got up.  I thought
you were going to sleep all day."  I poured myself some coffee, and
answered, "No, I just took a day off from work.  I thought I told you I
was seeing the doctor today?"  "You did," she said.  "I was just need-
ling you.  You're going to see about getting your cock cut off.  I
still say that you should think hard about that.  I understand what you
want, but that's not as easy as it sounds."  Margo and I had talked
about this before.  "I know that it's not easy," I said, "but I have
thought about it.  If nothing else, I have to talk to him to get more
information.  He isn't going to do it today in his office, you know."

Margo got a concerned look on her face, and said, "I know that, but
it's just that...  Well, I feel sort of responsible for you.  I was the
one who got you out in drag in public.  You have done very well on your
own up to now, and I just don't want to see you get hurt.  That's all."
I had only rarely seen this side of Margo.  I looked on her as a sort
of sister, but I was never sure how she really felt toward me.  "I
know," I said, "and I appreciate that.  I'll make you a deal.  I will
not agree to surgery of any sort without talking it over with you
first.  Okay?"  That seemed to satisfy her for the moment, and the
conversation moved to other things.

"How did the interview go yesterday?," Margo asked.  "Great!," I ans-
wered.  "I got the job!"  I'm just so excited about it.  They're going
to be calling me in for test shots next week, and the studio I'm going
to be working for says they may have some other assignments for me
too."  I did not tell her about the pornography yet.  I wanted to see
what developed first.  "Wonderful!," said Margo.  "I hope it works out
for you.  You've come a long way."

"Aren't you going to work?," I asked knowing that she was usually get-
ting dressed by now.  "No," she answered, "I only got in about seven-
thirty.  I called Joe, and told him I was sick.  I'll have to blow him
twice this week to make up for it, but honey, this black stud that re-
amed out my ass with his cock all last night was worth it!  Ten inches
of the hottest and hardest black meat that I have ever had!"  We went
on talking about her stud.

"Well," I said at last, "I have to get ready for the doctor.  Maybe
I'll see you when I get home?"  Margo took a puff of her cigarette, and
said, "Yeah, I should be here.  I'm just going to bed.  I didn't get
much sleep last night."  I smiled.  "No, I guess you didn't," I said.
"I'm surprised you can sit from the way you're talking."  "Well," said
Margo, "it ain't easy, honey!  Did you get any yourself last night?"  I
thought again about Alan, and said, "Why yes, I did.  I met this cute
straight guy, so I told him I had my period, and could only suck him
off.  It was very nice."

Margo got a very strange look on her face, and said, "A straight guy?
Honey, you better watch out about playing in that world until that doc-
tor does cut your dick off!  You might get a guy who won't take kindly
to getting his pee-pee licked by what he considers a faggot!" She was
right.  I had taken a chance with Alan, but it had been worth it.  I
assured her that I would be careful.  "Okay," she said, "I don't want
to see my little sister all beaten up or worse!"  Margo went off to
bed, and I started to get ready for the doctor.  Margo cared more than
I had thought.

I cleared the breakfast dishes, and went to the bathroom for a shower.
That only took a few minutes, and I was back in my bed room.  I needed
to look as much like a real woman as possible today too, so I chose
what I would wear carefully.  I dipped into my lingerie drawer, and
slid a pair of white satin panties with lace panels at the sides up
over my legs.  I reached down, and pulled my penis back as far as it
would stretch into its tuck in my crotch.  I did not want any bulges
showing.

I took out a matching white satin and lace push-up bra, and fitted my
tiny breasts into the cups for maximum effect.  Then hooked a white
satin garter-belt around my waist, and attached a pair of sheer stock-
ings to it.  I chose a dark green silk dress with a small yellow floral
pattern.  The dress had short sleeves with only a slight scoop to the
neckline and back, and the skirt fell to just below my knees.  I wanted
to look pretty, but not too sexy.  Modestly, I put on a white satin
full-slip with lace trim under the dress.

I put on my green eye make-up, but used a bright shade of pink for my
nail polish and lipstick.  The dress had a black patent leather belt,
so I wore my black patent leather pumps with the four inch heels, and a
black patent leather handbag.

It was almost quarter of ten by the time I was finished, so I took out
my black jacket, and headed out the door.  My heels clicked happily on
the pavement as I walked up to 8th Avenue to find a taxi, but inside I
was nervous as a kitten.  I was going, at last, to see the doctor about
completing my transformation from male to female, but that scared me.
It is bad enough to be in need of an operation to correct a medical
problem, but it is quite another thing to ask for one when you are
otherwise healthy.  Surgery is frightening under the best of circum-
stances.

I did need this operation!  I might not have a medical condition that
most people would recognize, but the disfigurement of that useless lump
of flesh between my legs was as real a medical condition to me as any
other.  That is what most people fail to understand about transexuals.
We look on the body parts of the sex into which we are born as disfig-
uring.  They are like ugly tumors that need to be removed to allow us
to feel comfortable with our bodies.  If the people who criticize tran-
sexuals had a condition that they considered was making them appear
ugly, or in a manner in which they did not want to appear, they would
seek medical attention to have it corrected.  It is no different with
transexuals.  We do not feel comfortable with the condition of our
bodies, and simply want to correct it.

I hailed a taxi on 8th Avenue, and slid into the back seat.  The driver
looked at me in his mirror, but my skirt was a little too long to give
him a show this time.  I just told him where I wanted to go, and sat
back to compose myself as we rode.  I tried to imagine what the doctor
would do today.  I knew that he would not do any surgery, but what
would he do?  I was sure that he would want to examine me, but how much
of an examination?  What questions would he ask?  How should I answer
them?  Would he even agree to do the surgery at all?

There were no guarantees in this.  Just because I wanted the operation
did not mean that the doctor would do it.  I had heard about some girls
who had gone as far away as Morocco to have the surgery done when they
were turned down here.  I could not afford to do that.  I was not even
sure I could afford to have the operation done here.  The doctor's of-
fice was near 70th Street off of Central Park West, so I had time to
think and worry about all of this.  My nerves were all on edge when the
cab finally stopped.

I stood for a long moment in front of the door to the doctor's office
before I took a deep breath, and turned the knob.  Inside it looked
like any other doctor's office.  There were chairs, a potted plant or
two, and the obligatory piled of old magazines.  A man and a woman oc-
cupied two of the chairs.  They did not look like transexuals, but the
doctor's regular practice was in plastic surgery, so I assumed that
they were there for something involving that.  I gave my name to the
receptionist, and took a seat.

I was only waiting for a few minutes when a nurse appeared at the door
to the inner office, and said, "Bobbi?  Will you come with me?"  I
stood, and followed her through the door.  There was a long hallway in-
side with a number of examination rooms off it.  She directed me into
one that had a desk and an examination table in it.  There was also a
table full of medical equipment, and a changing screen in one corner.
"Sit down," she said, "and Dr. Benjamin will be with you soon."  She
left, and I sat down to wait.

The wait was not long, but it seemed like hours.  I must have read all
the diplomas on the wall a dozen times out of just sheer nervousness
before I heard the door to the office open, and someone come in.  I
turned to see a late middle-aged man walking toward the desk.  He was
not tall, was balding, and had a slight paunch around his mid-section,
but the grey around his temples, the strong features of his face, and
the air of authority about him made it appear that I could trust him
with my life.  That was, after all, what I was about to do.  "Bobbi?,"
he said extending his hand in greeting, "I'm Dr. Benjamin."

I shook his hand without standing up, and adjusted my skirt to get more
comfortable.  Dr. Benjamin immediately made a note in my file after
shaking my hand, and then sat behind the desk to look me over.  We sat
that way in silence for a few minutes while he seemed to be examining
me all over before he asked, "How long have you been living as a wo-
man?"  I cleared my throat, and answered, "About three months."  He
made a note in the file, and then asked, "How long have you been a
transvestite?"  "About three and a half years," I replied, and this was
also noted in the file.

"Bobbi," Dr. Benjamin began, "what you are asking is not easy, but from
what I've seen so far of you, I think I can help you.  I do not see
anything about you that tells me that you are not as you present your-
self.  We need to do a lot more first, but we can proceed if you wish.
I assume you are ready?"  My heart was pounding.  Dr. Benjamin was ag-
reeing to get me started toward what I wanted.  I could hardly believe
it!  As calmly as I could, I answered, "Yes, doctor.  I'm ready to
start."

Dr. Benjamin sat back in his chair, and said, "We have a great deal to
do, and you are going to have to trust me all the way through it.  I'll
tell you anything you need to know about any of it, but you are going
to have to cooperate.  You must do everything I tell you to do.  Can
you do that?"  "Yes," I answered.  "Will you trust me?," he asked.  "I
trust you," I replied.  "I just said I'll do exactly what the doctor
ordered."  I was on my way.

"Good," Dr. Benjamin said.  "Then I need to examine you further.  The
examination had to be very detailed and personal.  Please stand up, and
walk around the office for me."  I stood, and put my purse and jacket
on the other chair.  I walked up and down the office, and did a couple
of modeling turns for the doctor while he made notes in my file.
"Please remove your dress and slip for me," he asked.  This surprised
me a little, but the circumstances and the look on the doctor's face
kept the situation on a clinical level, and completely non-sexual.  I
did as I was asked.

I stood before Dr. Benjamin in just bra, panties, garter-belt, stock-
ings, and heels, and he looked me over carefully making notes all the
time.  He asked me to walk again for him, and after I had done so, he
said, "Go behind the screen, and take off all your clothes.  Put on the
gown you'll find back there, and come out here."  I did as I was told,
and soon I was completely naked except for my make-up and heels.  I put
on the gown, and returned to Dr. Benjamin who was standing by the ex-
amination table.

"Please get up on the table, and put your feet in the stirrups," Dr.
Benjamin asked, but you'll have to take off your shoes."  The stirrups
were little heel pockets on the ends of two metal arms that extended
from the lower corners of the table.  I stepped out of my shoes, and
did as requested.  The metal of the stirrups was a little cold, but
that discomfort did not last for long.  I was in the same position as
any woman having a gynecological examination.

Dr. Benjamin pulled a stool over to the end of the table between my
legs.  He sat on it, and said, "Now, I'm just going to have a look at a
few things.  This isn't going to hurt."  My penis had popped out of
it's tuck when I had spread my legs to get into the stirrups.  Dr. Ben-
jamin took my penis between his fingers, and I could feel him stretch
it out even though I could not see him from the position I was in.  He
turned it a few times, and then did the same with my scrotum and balls.
Normally when a man did that I would get sexually excited, but his
touch was very clinical.  Even so, my penis moved a little at the
touch.  I tried not to let it react too much.

I was glad when he stopped that part of the examination, and stood up.
He pulled back the gown, and went over the rest of my body paying some
particular attention to my tiny breasts.  "Please stand up, and remove
the gown," he said.  I was soon completely nude, and the doctor had me
walk for him again.  I stopped, and stood naked in front of the desk
while he made even more notes in my file.

Dr. Benjamin looked over my nude body once again, and said, "Please put
the gown back on, and sit down."  I did as he asked.  The office was a
little chilly, and I was glad to have even the meager clothing of the
gown back on again.  Dr. Benjamin continued making notes in the file as
I sat in front of his desk.  I wondered what he had found in his exam-
ination, but I could not read what he was writing from where I sat.  I
was excited over the prospect of getting this started, and I did not
want anything holding it back now.

At last Dr. Benjamin finished his notes.  He sat back in his chair, and
said, "We have a lot to do here, but I see nothing that would prevent
us from going further.  Despite your male sexual organs, your body has
a lot of female confirmation to it.  The way you act, move, and look is
more like a woman than a man, and that tells me that you are in some
way serious about this.  We will have to do a full physical work-up on
you, and my nurse will do that when we are finished here.  There are
some other things we have to do too.  I assume that you want to start
right away?"  There was nothing else on my mind!  "What do I have to
do?," I asked.

"Well, Bobbi," Dr. Benjamin began, "this is not a short process.  It
will take two to three years to complete the program.  Are you working
as a woman now?"  I did not understand why he was asking this, but I
told him about my job as a stockboy at the department store, and about
the modeling job.  He looked thoughtful for a moment.

Dr. Benjamin then gave me the whole story, saying, "We have both legal
and psychological requirements to consider along with the medical.  The
law requires that you prove you can live as a woman before I can begin
any surgery.  That means that you must both live and work as a woman
for one full year first.  You will also have to undergo psychological
counseling all during that time.  I have an associate, Dr. Stearns, who
is a psychologist, and works with me on cases like yours.  I'll give
you his card.  You should see him as soon as possible."

Dr. Benjamin gave me Dr. Stearns card, and then said, "You should also
have a lawyer.  There will be things to do like legally changing your
name, and filing papers to attempt to change your sexual status legally
that you will need a lawyer to help you with.  I can refer you to two
lawyers who have handled such things in the past for my patients.  I
told you that this would not be easy.  Do you still want to go on?"

I knew that the process of changing sex was complicated, but this was
the first time I had been confronted with all of it at once.  It all
but overwhelmed me, but I was not turning back now.  "I'll do whatever
I have to do," I replied.

"All right," Dr. Benjamin said.  "Then the next step is for my nurse to
do the medical work-up on you.  Fill out these forms, and I'll send her
in."  I stopped him, and said, "Doctor, a friend of mine had you do
breast implants for her.  Do I have to wait a year for that too?"  "Who
was that"," he asked, and I told him that it was Tina.

"Tina was a different case from you," Dr. Benjamin said.  "She didn't
want the whole program, and only asked about implants.  I think I would
rather do something else for you.  If you sign a consent form, we can
start you on hormone therapy today.  The hormones will cause your nat-
ural breasts to develop, and let your body make some other changes.
You may, however, experience some dizziness a few hours after the shot,
you cannot drink alcohol for twenty-four hours after it, and you may
experience a lessened sexual desire and response.  You will need one
injection a week for the foreseeable future.  We would have to do this
anyway once we started the surgery, but the effects will reverse them-
selves if we stop, so we can start it now without any legal problems.
Do you want to start?"  That was an easy question.  "Yes!," I answered.

"You're almost too agreeable," he said with a laugh.  "All right, after
we have your medical done, I'll calculate the dosage, and give you your
first shot.  Then I'll have to see you each week for boosters."  He
left the room, and I waited for the nurse.

A few minutes later, she arrived, and I was back on the examination
table getting my medical work-up done.  She did it all, including blood
and urine samples, quickly, and then said, "You can get dressed now,
Miss," as she left.  I had not expected to be addressed as "Miss" by
someone who had seen me as completely naked as the nurse had, but I
guessed that having done cases like mine before, she had said it as a
sort of reassuring courtesy.  I know that hearing it pleased me a lot.
I dressed as fast as I could in my excitement, and awaited the doctor's
return.

Instead of the doctor, the nurse came back with a syringe.  She rubbed
my arm with alcohol, and gave me the shot.  I left the office, and made
an appointment with the receptionist for the following Wednesday eve-
ning to get my next shot.  It would become a regular Wednesday ritual
from then on.  I was on my way to becoming a woman in every way pos-
sible.

It was such a nice day when I got outside, that I decided to take a
walk in Central Park on the way home.  I was in no hurry.  It was al-
most noon, and Margo would still be asleep.  I really had nothing else
to do today.  I thought about going shopping.  I really like doing that
when I have little else to do, but the weather was just too nice to be
inside on this early autumn day.  It was too late to call Edith about
having lunch, so I settled for walking across the park to visit the
zoo.

The late September air was still tinged with the warmth of summer, so
it was pleasant to wander amid the trees and grass of Central Park
making my way to the zoo.  It was also pleasant to feel the eyes of
some of the men that I passed upon me.  I had tried not to dress too
sexy today because of my visit to the doctor, but I still drew my share
of looks and turned heads.  I wondered what those men would say if they
knew that I had a penis tucked demurely away between my legs under my
skirt, but I also remembered that, with the help of Dr. Benjamin, I
would soon rectify that situation.  I imagined that I could already
feel the hormone shot his nurse had given me working on changing my
body, but that would take a lot longer to do its job than the few min-
utes that had passed since I had it.

The zoo was its usual hub of activity when I arrived.  I paused in
front of a number of cages to peer in at the inhabitants.  I love ani-
mals, and I could not help thinking that I shared something with the
ones here in the zoo.  They too were trapped in their cages much the
same way that I was trapped in this body.  They could not change their
status, but I had now made a start at changing mine.  That last thought
made me feel very goo inside.

I decided to buy a hot dog for lunch from one of the vendors, but as I
was fumbling in my purse for the money to pay him, I dropped my wallet
and some other things on the ground.  I started to bend down to pick
then up, and found myself face to face with a policeman who was holding
out my wallet in his hand.  "I believe this is your's, Miss?," he said
in a deep voice.

I took the wallet from him saying, "Uhh... Thank you, officer," as he
bent down to retrieve my compact and other things.  "You have to be
careful with your wallet here.  Thieves would consider a pretty girl
like you an easy mark," he said as he put my things in my hand.  My
fingers brushed his as I took my compact from him.  They were as strong
as the rest of him also appeared to be.  He was in his mid-twenties,
about six feet four inches tall, and had broad muscular shoulders from
which his body tapered down through a taunt mid-section to a slim
waist.  His bushy red hair topped a broad, handsome, Irish face that
was a pleasure to look up into.  My little penis twitched a bit as I
just stood and stared.

"Yes," I said gaining a grip on the situation, "but that's why we
citizens have the strong arm of the law around to protect us."  I was
flirting with him, and he picked right up on it.  "Well, you know we
have to file a report on all incidents, so I'll have to ask you a few
questions," he said taking out his pad and pen.  "Name?"  I smiled
sweetly, and decided to play along.  "Bobbi," I replied.  "That's a
pretty name," he said.  "Mine's Brian.  Telephone number?"  I thought
about holding back somehow on this, but the gaze of his deep green eyes
was hypnotic.  I had given him my telephone number almost before I had
realized it.

"Well, Bobbi," he said as I took a bite of my hot dog, "that's all I
need for now, but I might have to call you for more information later."
I swallowed a bit of hot dog, and said, "You can call me anytime you
like, Officer Brian.  It's a pleasure to be under your protection."  I
was pushing it.  Flirting shamelessly with a straight Irish cop was not
a good idea, but I was just feeling very playful.  I guessed that I
could always just turn him down if he called me for a date.  I just
enjoyed having the attention of a handsome man, and what girl would not
enjoy that?

We talked for a couple of minutes, and I told him about my aspirations
to a career as a dancer and a model.  Then a couple of other policemen
appeared in the distance walking toward us.  "Well," said Brian,
"that's my sergeant.  I have to go back to the station, and go off
duty.  I'll call you for that information, okay?"  I smiled up at him
almost towering above me, and said, "Sure.  Bye-bye!"  I turned, and
walked away with a wiggle in my hips for his benefit.  I was sure that
he was watching.  I wondered if he would tell his sergeant, so he could
watch too.

I caught a cab outside of the zoo, and went home.  Margo was still in
bed when I got there, so I just got a soda from the refrigerator, kic-
ked off my shoes, and settled down to watch a soap opera on the new
color television that Margo had bought.  The hormones were already mak-
ing me tired.

Margo finally got up around three o'clock.  She got a beer for herself,
and joined me in the living room.  "How did it go with the doctor?,"
she asked as she set down her beer after a long first drink, and lit a
cigarette.  "Pretty good," I answered.  "He said that he would consider
me for surgery if I can pass all the legal and psychological tests, but
he agreed to start me on the hormones right away.  I got my first shot
already."  Margo looked a little concerned, and said, "Those things
will knock the hell out of you if you're not careful.  I was on then
all last year, and they had me all messed up.  That's why I have trou-
ble getting a hardon now."

I did not know Margo had taken hormones, so I asked, "What doctor did
you go to?"  "Oh," she replied, "I didn't get them from a doctor.  Jim-
my Treetops at the bar does it, and he only charges half what the doc-
tors do.  A lot of the girls get them from him."  Jimmy "Treetops" was
a guy who hung out at "The Gilded Grape" and some Gay bars in the area.
He got his nickname because he was about six feet eight inches tall.
He was some sort of medical technician at a hospital from which he
stole the drugs which he sold for extra income.  I did not like him.

"Wouldn't it have been better to go to a real doctor?," I asked.  "May-
be so," answered Margo taking another drink of her beer, "but I didn't.
Just be careful.  I don't want you going out, and getting hurt."  Margo
was getting back into her sisterly mood again.  I rather liked her that
way.  She always seemed so hard and tough all the time.  It was nice to
know there was another side to her.

I did not tell Margo about Brian.  After how she had admonished me this
morning about Alan, I did not want another lecture on the perils of
flirting with straight men.  She was just about to say something when
the telephone rang.  I got up to answer it, and a female voice on the
other end identified herself as Tom's secretary from the photography
studio.  "We'd like to set up an appointment for you to come in for
test shots," she said.  "I understand that you work full-time, so what
day would be good for you?  We'd prefer not to do it in the evening."
I had just had my days off changed to Sunday and Monday, so I suggested
the next Monday.  "That would be fine," the voice said.  "Could you
make a 9:30AM appointment?"  I said I could, and she ended the conver-
sation.

"What was that all about?," asked Margo as I returned to my chair.  I
told her, and she said, "You sure are getting into a lot of things.
Don't go, and burn yourself out.  Are you coming to the bar with me
tonight?"  I was feeling very tired which I supposed was part of the
effect of the hormones doing their work.  "No," I said with a sigh, "I
don't feel up to it tonight.  I think I'll just stay here."  Margo
looked at me with an indifferent look on her face, and said, "Suit
yourself.  I'm going to take a shower."

Margo was just leaving the room when the telephone rang again.  She
picked up the receiver, and said, "Hello?...  Who?...  Yes, she's here.
Just a minute."  She held her hand over the mouthpiece, turned to me,
and said, "It's for you.  Somebody named Peter?"

I sprang from my chair, and grabbed the telephone from Margo.  She con-
tinued on her way to the shower, and I put the receiver to my ear nerv-
ously saying, "Hello?"  A familiar voice came back, and said, "Bobbi?
Hi, doll!  I told you I'd call.  How are you doing?"

We chatted pleasantly about nothing for a minute or two, and then he
asked, "What are you doing Saturday night?  I thought maybe we could
have dinner, and see a movie."  That was what I had hoped he would say.
"Sure!," I replied trying not to appear too anxious.  "I have to work
part of the day, but that isn't a problem.  What time?"  "Well," he
said, "what if I pick you up at six-thirty?  We could have an early
dinner, and then go to a movie."  I told him that it was fine with me,
and the date was made.

We talked for a minute or two more until at last he said, "I guess I
should get back to work here now, doll.  I'll see you on Saturday at
six-thirty."  "Okay," I said, "I'll be waiting.  Bye-bye!"

Margo left for the bar around six o'clock.  I told her about my date
with Peter, and she said, "Okay, sis.  I get the message.  I'll plan on
leaving the apartment to you that night, and sleep somewhere else."  I
started to say that it was not necessary for her to do that, but she
said, "No, you need to be alone with your lover the first time."  Then
she left.  Deep down, I really wanted to be alone with Peter.

I changed into my warm flannel night gown and fuzzy robe and slippers
to curl up on the sofa to watch television.  Lots of thoughts ran
through my head that night.  I thought about Dr. Benjamin and what he
was about to do for me, but mostly I thought of Peter.  I could hardly
wait for Saturday night.

Lunch with Edith the next day was a buzz of conversation.  She wanted
to know all about what had happened with the doctor, and I was eager to
share all the details with her.  She seemed fascinated with hearing all
the things that I would have to do on my way to becoming all the woman
that I could be, and would not let me leave out a single bit of the
story.  Just before we left the Coffee Shop she said, "You have quite a
lot to do, but I want you to know that I'm here if you need me.  Don't
be afraid to ask anything at all of me.  That's what mothers are for."
I thanked her for that.  I knew I would probably need some help from
her along the way, but I did not yet know how much help I would need
from her later.

Margo too had a little announcement of her own on Thursday night.  I
was sitting in the living room while she was getting dressed to go to
"The Gilded Grape" as she did almost every night.  She came into the
room, and said, "I won't be here when you come home tomorrow.  Uncle
Charlie is taking me and Carol up to his place in Connecticut for the
weekend, and we won't be back until Sunday night, so you have the place
all to yourself all weekend.  Have fun!"

Carol was another drag queen from the bar.  She and Margo were drinking
buddies, and sometimes turned tricks together.  Carol was also very
much into the B&D/S&M scene as a Drag Dominatrix.  Uncle Charlie was a
man in his late forties who came to "The Gilded Grape" once in a while.
He had a big penthouse apartment with his wife in the City, and a se-
cluded "summer" home in Connecticut.  He liked to take some of the
girls up there for all weekend fuck and suck outings.  I think his wife
knew about it, but tolerated it to stay close to his money.  She prob-
ably had her own group of studs to play with in the penthouse while he
was gone.

Friday was a quiet day at work, and promised to be a quiet night at
home too.  I decided to go to the bar on my own that night after dance
class just to see what was happening, but when I got home the phone was
ringing.  I hurried to answer it, and Paul's voice on the other end
said, "Bobbi?  So there you are.  I'm around the corner at the, err...
bar, and I was wondering if I could, err... see you tonight.  My wife
went out for a while, so I, err... can't stay long.  Could I, err...
come over?"  I knew what he wanted to come over for, but I had agreed
to this sort of relationship, and he was entitled to "collect" for the
favor he had done me with the modeling job.  I said yes.

I knew that Paul would not waste any time in getting here, so I had
only a few minutes to get ready for him.  I went into my bedroom,
stripped completely, and turned down the bed.  I grabbed a black lace
bra with matching garter-belt and panties, and put them on with the
garters under the panties, so the panties could come off without dis-
turbing the garter-belt.  A pair of black, fishnet stockings and my
black patent leather pumps completed the outfit.  I was just freshening
my make-up when the doorbell rang.

I buzzed Paul in, and waited for him to come up in the elevator.  His
eyes got very wide when I opened the door for him in just my lingerie.
The door swung closed behind him as I put my arms around his neck, and
said, "I got the job!  Thank you," and kissed him full on the lips.
His hands went right to my crotch, and started feeling about for my
little penis.  I spread my legs to let him get a good feel of it, and
then led the way into the bedroom.

Paul was naked, except for his socks, in seconds, and I stepped out of
my panties without taking off anything else.  We got onto the bed, and
again he reached for my penis to play with it.  I did not really like
when he did that because I did not like to be reminded that I still had
a penis at times like these, but it gave him pleasure.  I immediately
went down on him using all of my best blow-job techniques, but blow-
jobs were the only sort of sex that we had ever had together, and I
really wanted him to fuck me.

After a few minutes of sucking him, I lay on my back, and reached for
the Vaseline.  Paul got a bright glint in his eyes, and moved to his
knees to get ready.  I applied the lubricant to my ass, and slid a pil-
low under my hips to raise my bottom to receive him better.  He mounted
me, and placed his prick at the opening of my anus.  With one firm
thrust he buried his cock to the hilt deep into my waiting ass.

Paul might have left many other things to be desired in him, but Paul
could fuck!  He started by ramming his hard and hot meat in and out of
me with all the power he could, and did not let up all the time he was
in me.  It felt like I had a pile driver up my ass, but it felt good
too.  He pinned me to the bed with his weight, and held my wrists down
all the time he fucked me.

Then Paul stiffened all over, took a deep gasp of air, and held it.  I
felt his cock spasm inside of me, and the slow oozing flow of cum that
was his trademark filling up my bowels with his hot semen.  He held
that way for a very long time gasping and moaning all the way through
it.  At last I knew what it was like to be fucked by Paul, and I liked
what I was feeling.  I wondered if he would always be in this sort of
rush when we had sex.

Paul had to get home to his wife, so he only spent a little while lying
in bed cuddling me, and playing with my penis after he had fucked me.
He went to the bathroom to clean his cock, and then dressed quickly.
We talked a little about the modeling job while he dressed, and I posed
in some sexy positions for him.  He kissed me again on the way out, and
handed me a plain, white, sealed envelope.  "Don't open it until I'm,
err... gone," he said.  Then he left, and I stared at the envelope.

I put the envelope that Paul had given me on the coffee table, and went
to the bathroom to clean up.  I was curious to know what was in it, but
Paul had filled me with quite a load of cum, and it was already seeping
out of my ass.  I did not want any stains on the chairs.  I let as much
of it drip out as I could while sitting on the toilet.  Then a few
quick shots of douche up there with the enema ball, and a minute or two
more on the toilet finished the job.  It was a technique that every
drag queen should learn early on.  Good personal hygiene counts for a
lot, but even more preventative measures are necessary today.  A quick
douche was enough in 1966, but I always carry a packet of condoms in my
purse now just in case the guy I am interested in has forgotten his.

It was only about nine o'clock, so there was still lots of time to pop
down to the bar for a quick drink, and some local gossip.  I went to
the bedroom, and put my panties back on, re-hooking my garters and
stockings over them, so they were more comfortable.  I dressed in a
plain black dress.  Every woman still needs a "little black dress" in
her wardrobe.  You can accessorize it in any way you like, and create
lots of different looks.  I chose my favorite pearl jewelry with black
patent leather belt, purse, and pumps.  Blue eye make-up and dark-red
lipstick topped off the look.

Then I remembered Paul's envelope, and sat in a living room chair to
open it.  Inside was a typed note that read, "Bobbi, I do not know if I
will have the time to tell you this tonight, so this note should ex-
plain things.  I have resigned my position at the department store, and
am taking a new job as Director of Personnel for a large soap manufac-
turing company on Park Avenue.  I will have full charge of all person-
nel in their New York City offices.  I start on Monday, so you will not
see me at the store anymore.  The new job gives me a hefty raise in
pay, but is going to keep me very busy for a month or so.  I will prob-
ably not be able to see you during that time.  I will call you in a
week, and we can talk more then.  Love, Paul.  P.S.: Buy yourself some-
thing nice with what I enclose."  In the envelope with the note were
five brand new twenty dollar bills.  Paul had left me one-hundred
dollars.

A man is supposed to do nice things for his kept woman, but this was
more than nice.  Back then, one-hundred dollars represented quite a bit
more money than it even does now.  I guessed that he could afford it
with his new job.  I knew then exactly what to do with it.  I wrote
"Surgery Fund" on the envelope, and put it in the bottom of my lingerie
drawer.  A week or so later, I opened a savings account at the bank
with the money, and kept the bank book with the note in the envelope.
I added more money to the account as time went on, but it was Paul's
contribution that had started it.  After all, he had said to buy some-
thing nice with it.  I could not think of anything nicer to buy than my
total femininity.

I went out to "The Gilded Grape" after putting away the money.  The
place was in its usual Friday night flurry of activity.  I ordered a
Gin and Tonic from Edie at the front bar, and then saw Patty sitting
alone at a table.  I went over to her.

"I was wondering if you were going to be here tonight," Patty said as I
sat down.  "You just missed Margo.  She and Carol left with Uncle Char-
lie and his new chauffeur.  You should see this one!  He's an even big-
ger hunk than his last chauffeur.  He looks like a bodybuilder." Uncle
Charlie had a reputation for his chauffeurs.  He changed them about
every six months, and they were always hunky and Gay.  Uncle Charlie
was into more than just drag queens.

"Yes," I replied.  "They're all going up to his summer place for the
weekend."  Patty lit a cigarette, and said, "Lucky ladies!  Old Uncle
Charlie ain't much, but that chauffeur can park his boots under my bed
any time he wants.  Toni was in earlier.  She asked me to tell you that
there's a rehearsal on Tuesday at seven o'clock.  She wants to do a
show next Saturday night.  She's going to do a solo number in it too."

We talked about that for a while, and made a lot of other girl talk
too.  A few of the guys eyed us up, and I probably could have turned a
couple of tricks for cash, bit I was just not in the mood for that.  I
let one of them buy me a drink, and talked with him.  Patty went to the
hotel with the other one, and made thirty dollars for it.

I finally went home about one o'clock in the morning.  Maybe it was the
hormones, but I was feeling very tired.  A lot had happened that week,
but what was really on my mind now was what was yet to come.  My date
with Peter was just tomorrow night, and I dreamed of that as I slept.

Saturday morning came at last.  The only problem was that I had to go
to work.  My days off had changed to Sunday and Monday as of that week,
but that is the way it is in retail.  I really wanted to spend the day
primping myself for Peter, but I got myself together to trudge off to
the store for a day in the stockroom.  The store was busy that day, but
I floated through my work on a cloud.  Edith was off on Saturdays, so I
just had lunch on my own in the store cafeteria.  All I could think of
was Peter.

The store closed at three o'clock on Saturdays, and I hurried down to
be one of the first to punch out.  I practically flew home, for I was
on such a high from thoughts of my date tonight that I'm sure my feet
did not even touch the ground.  Once in the apartment, I immediately
got out of the male clothing that I loathed so much, and into my long
satin robe.  That made me feel a lot better, and I sat for a while that
way in the living room before getting dressed.

There would be no quick shower for me today.  This was a special day,
and demanded something equally special in the toilette department.  I
had bought some strawberry scented bath oil, and treated myself to a
bubble bath with it.  I stayed in the tub for a very long time just
letting the bubbles wash away the feelings of the previous part of the
day spent in my male job.  I had to find a way to change that.  After
all, that was what the doctor ordered.

It was almost five-thirty when I finally got out of the tub.  Peter
would be here soon, so I had to get dressed.  I had gone so far as to
buy new lingerie for tonight.  There was a padded, pink, lace, push-up
bra with matching pink garter-belt, and pink lace panties.  I slid on
my sheerest stockings, and did an all over spray of cologne before I
continued dressing.  I dabbed some perfume of the same scent as the
cologne at the back of my knees before pulling my stockings up, and did
the same behind my ears, at my wrists, in my tiny bit of cleavage, and
on my thighs.  I even put a naughty drop of perfume in my navel just to
be playful.  Over all of this went a pink lace full-slip.

My dress was new too, and of a clingy, pale pink, jersey material.  The
neckline was a deep enough "V" to show just a hint of cleavage, and the
back dipped to expose some of my shoulder blades.  There were little
capped sleeves at the shoulders.  The skirt was straight lined, and
came to just above my knees.  The dress had a white patent leather
belt, and I had a white patent leather purse with white patent leather
pumps with four inch heels to go with it.  Of course I also wore my
white pearls.  By six-fifteen I was ready for Peter.  I did not have
long to wait.

The doorbell rang about five minutes later, and very nervously, I ans-
wered it.  "Hi, doll," came Peter's voice through the intercom from
downstairs, "are you ready?"  That was a silly question, but a lady al-
ways keeps a man waiting just a little bit.  I do not know why.  Maybe
it keeps their interest up, but it is part of the game.  "Almost," I
called back through the speaker, "so come on up, and we can leave in a
minute."  I pushed the button to buzz him in.

I did not really have anything else to do to get ready, but there is a
sort of choreography to a date.  A sort of mating dance that, if done
correctly, will give the highest level of satisfaction and enjoyment to
both of the dancing partners.  This little sham of not being quite rea-
dy was one of the mandatory steps in the dance.  I could not leave it
out no matter how anxious I was.

I used the time to pop back into my bedroom, and do a quick check to
make sure that everything was on correctly and straight.  My heart be-
gan thumping again when the upstairs doorbell rang.  Peter had arrived!

I checked one more time to be sure that my skirt was straight, and op-
ened the door.  Peter looked so handsome standing there in his dark
blue sports jacket and grey slacks that I started thinking about for-
getting the date, and just falling into his arms.  The twinkle in his
eye when he looked at me said very clearly that he was thinking the
same thing.  That, however, was not one of the steps that was done at
this point in the mating dance.  That was to be saved for the finale.

"You look great, doll!," Peter said exuberantly.  "Shall we go?"  I had
expected at least a kiss on the cheek in greeting after the passionate
scene that we had made at the apartment door the night he walked me
home, but Peter made no such move toward me.  I had assumed that he
would have been anxious to hold me in his arms, and kiss me.  Most wo-
men who look like I do have to fight off the attentions of their men,
but here was a man whose arms I wanted to be in, who appeared to be
holding back.  Why?

I picked up my white lace shawl, and handed it to Peter.  He put it
around me, and for just a second, rested his hands on my shoulders.
That felt very good, but did not last for long.  Surely he knew that he
could have all of me that night.  Why was he holding back?

There was a famous steak restaurant on 8th Avenue near 44th Street, and
Peter announced that we were going there for dinner.  It was only three
blocks from where I lived, so we walked.  Summer had just officially
ended, but the chill of Autumn had not yet found the air.  It was plea-
sant to walk with my arm crooked in his.  I still drew looks from all
the men we passed, but now these stares of lechery at me ended with a
look of envy toward Peter.  They all were wishing that they were in his
place.

After dinner, Peter hailed a cab outside of restaurant, and we were off
to the Criterion Theater in Times Square to see a movie.  I asked Peter
why he had gotten a taxi since the theater was only about five blocks
away, and it was no faster than walking with all the mid-town traffic
that we had to get through.  "Well, doll," he said, " this is our first
real date, and I wanted it to be special for you."  He made me feel
very good by saying that.

I really do not remember what movie was playing that night except that
it was some sort of love story.  That suited my mood just fine.  The
more time I spent with Peter, the more I became convinced that I was
falling in love with him.  I cannot say exactly why I was feeling that
way.  Peter was not all that different from any of a dozen men that I
knew, but there was something special about him.  Maybe it was the lit-
tle things, like what he said to me in the taxi.  I do not know.  I
only know that was the way I was feeling, and I prayed he was feeling
the same about me.

I was still curious about why he was stalling about the physical affec-
tion from me that was his for the taking.  No other man that I had ever
been with in an even remotely romantic or lustful situation had ever
held back.  About half way through the movie I felt his arm around my
shoulders.  I thought that things were about to heat up between us, but
that was as far as it went.  Near the end of the movie he also started
holding my hand.  Maybe he was just taking his time.

The show was over a little past eleven-thirty.  Out on the street in
front of the theater Peter asked, "Would you like to go for a drink,
doll?"  I grabbed my opportunity, and answered, "I'm a little tired of
that bar.  Why don't we go back to my place, and have a nightcap the-
re?"  "Suits me, doll," replied Peter, and he flagged down a cab which
soon deposited us back in front of the apartment building where I liv-
ed.  I handed him my keys to get us in, and in a few minutes, we were
back in my living room.

"What can I get you for that drink?," I asked tossing my shawl over a
chair.  "Scotch," Peter replied, "on the rocks."  I got some ice from
the freezer, and made our drinks.  I was not a big Scotch fan, so I had
my usual Gin and Tonic.  Peter had taken a seat at one end of the sofa,
and after handing him his drink, I sat toward the other end.  Since he
had held back from me all evening, he would have to work his way down
the couch if he wanted to get close to me now.

We tipped our glasses to each other acknowledging our first sips, and
then Peter said, "Over dinner, you said something about the doctor say-
ing you should have a lawyer as well.  I take my bar exams in a month
or so.  Maybe I could handle your case?"  I had already thought of ask-
ing him about that, so I said, "I'd like that.  The doctor said I nee-
ded a name and sexual status change.  I'm not sure what that all me-
ans."  "Well," said Peter, "the name change is easy.  You are entitled,
under the law, to call yourself anything you wish as long as it is not
done with intent to defraud.  By filing the papers, and going to court,
you demonstrate that there is no fraud involved, but a change of sexual
status is harder."  I gave him a quizzical look, and asked, "Why?"

Peter took a sip of his drink, and said, "Well, doll, no matter how
pretty you look right now, your identification says 'male' on it.  The
surgery that the doctor will do is legally regarded as only cosmetic.
In itself it imparts no change of sexual status.  You could, as a legal
male, still be drafted, could only legally marry someone who was legal-
ly a female, could not get health or insurance benefits reserved for
females, could not legally use a Ladies Room, and might run afoul of
dozens of archaic little laws depending on where you are and what you
do.  The State of New York does not recognize a legal change of sexual
status unless there is demonstrable medical proof that the person in-
volved is a hermaphrodite.  It isn't easy, but the papers can be filed
in other places than New York.  We'll take care of it when the time
comes."

"How do you know so much about it?," I asked.  "Well, doll," Peter re-
plied, "my uncle who runs the law firm I'm with, makes a specialty of
these things.  That's how I first found out about the bar where I met
you, but I never expected to find someone there that I wanted as much
as you."  It was then that I realized that Peter had slid over to sit
next to me, and had his arm around me again.  He did want me tonight.

Things began to happen very quickly now.  I leaned my head back against
Peter's arm, and said, "Oh?  How much do you want me?"  Instantly his
lips were upon mine, and I needed no further answer to my question.
Peter's arms held me tightly.  I responded by falling submissively limp
in his embrace, and parting my lips to allow his tongue access to mine.
His hands roamed down my body feeling for some of my most intimate
places through the material of my dress.  If he had held things back
before, he was making up for lost time now.  Peter looked me deep in
the eyes with that "little boy" look of his that I adored so much, and
said, "Let's make love."  I had been aching to hear that all night, so
I replied, "Let me get comfortable."

I stood, and reached behind me to pull down the zipper at the back of
my dress.  My little penis was pulsing with every beat of my heart as
the dress slipped from my body, and I stood before the man I loved in
just my new pink lingerie and heels, ready for him to take me as he
willed.  I stood that way for only a short while to let him have a good
look, and then moved to sit in his lap.  Peter's lips again pressed
upon mine, and his hands went back to caressing and feeling my body.  I
could also feel his hard cock pressing into my bottom.  "Let's go to
the bedroom," I whispered softly into his ear, and stood to lead the
way.

I turned down the bed, and lay upon it in the most provocative pose
that I could.  Peter bent to kiss me, and then stood over me to disro-
be.  There may have been lots of "little boy" qualities about him, but
beneath his clothes there lay a seething mass of manhood.  Peter was
not a bodybuilder, but he must have worked out to have built a body
like the one he had.  My little penis throbbed even more as he stripped
off his undershirt, and I got my first view of his muscular chest with
just a few dark, curly hairs between his smooth pectorals.  Soon he was
left with only his briefs, and he lay down next to me on the bed.

Peter took me in his arms again, and we kissed deeply letting our ton-
gues play with each other through our parted lips.  Then he reached
behind me to do what few of my lovers ever did, and unhooked my bra.
The bra slipped easily from me, and Peter moved to take one of the
nipples of my tiny, male breasts between his lips.  He sucked gently on
it sending little shivers of delight all through me.  My nipples have
always been sensitive, but lacking the bulging breasts of a real woman,
few of the men I had ever been with had availed themselves of that
pleasure.  It felt wonderful when Peter did it.

Peter also unhooked my garter-belt, and took a moment to pull it and my
stockings down off my legs.  "I like my women naked," he said lustfully
as he returned to nursing on my breasts, and feeling the rest of my
body with his hands.  I wanted him, and he wanted me.  It was my turn
next.

I kneeled over Peter, and stripped away his briefs.  The sight that
greeted me was lovely.  All eight inches of his circumcised cock was
looking up, and in its own way, smiling at me.  I smiled back, and
placed a big, wet kiss right on its tip.  Peter snuggled down on the
bed getting more comfortable as if in anticipation of what I was about
to do.  I ringed the base of his cock with my index finger and thumb,
and began licking it from base to head like a child would do with a
lollipop.  It tasted good, and Peter's moans of pleasure told me that
it must have felt good too.  I kept it up for quite a long while, try-
ing to bring him all the pleasure I could.

Peter's balls tasted as good as his cock.  I lapped at them with my
tongue, and tickled them with my fingers just for the sheer fun of at
last being able to play with them.  I had wanted and dreamed about
Peter's cock, and what it was like for a very long time.  I was going
to enjoy it all I could, and he seemed content to let me do all that I
wanted to do.  What I wanted to do now was feel that cock in my mouth.

I opened my lips, and took just the head of it between them.  I ran my
tongue all around it, savoring the feel of the glans.  Besides being
long, Peter's cock was also thick, but just enough to make a good fit
with my lips.  I pushed my head down, and took as much of it into my
mouth as I could until I felt it hit the back of my throat.  I slowly
let it slide back out across my lips, and then plunged it back in again
as far as it would go.  I kept this motion up, bobbing my head up and
down on Peter's cock, and going faster with each stroke as I did.  My
hand was gently feeling his balls, and when I felt them throb and get
warm, I pulled back until only the head was in my mouth.

Just as I did, the first spurt of Peter's semen shot across my tongue,
and splashed against the back of my throat.  That first spurt was fol-
lowed quickly by a second and a third, each one more copious that the
one before.  The cum filled my mouth completely, and then stopped as
suddenly as it had begun.  I held Peter's cock in my mouth for a moment
to be sure that he was finished, and then let it slip from my lips.  I
rolled the load of cum around my mouth, tasting the flavor of the man I
loved, and then swallowed all of my treasure.

I lay next to Peter on my bed, and he took me in his arms again.  He
kissed me deeply, and said, "I told you I liked my women naked."  With
that, he slipped his fingers into the waistband of my panties, pulled
them down my legs, and tossed them aside.  Now we were both totally
naked.  That was the way Peter wanted it, and I would not deny him any-
thing he wanted that night.

Peter pressed his hand between my thighs, and with a bit of reluctance,
I spread my legs to allow him access to my crotch.  He touched my lit-
tle penis, but instead of gripping it as some of my other lovers did,
he pressed it under his hand, and massaged the most sensitive spots
with just his middle finger like any man might do with a woman's clit.
I liked that, and I writhed around on the bed in my own spasms of
pleasure.  After a few minutes of this, I reached down to find that
Peter's cock had regained its hardness.

Peter reached to the night table, and handed me the jar of Vaseline
that I kept there.  He continued fingering me, and sucked some more on
my nipples while I got us lubricated for his next move.

Peter mounted me, and I barely had time to get a pillow under my hips
to elevate my bottom for him before I felt the head of his cock pres-
sing at my anus.  I reached down to guide it to its target, and when I
had, I felt him push gently to pop the head past my sphincter.  Slowly
Peter worked his cock all the way into me.  I was spread almost to my
limit by the thickness of it, but that only made it feel all the bet-
ter.  He drilled that big cock of his in and out of me in a slow but
sensuous manner, and our bellies robbing together om my own penis added
to the pleasure.

Then I felt Peter buck hard against me, and plunge his cock all the way
up my ass.  My penis too matched each thrust with a twitch of its own.
A spreading, liquid warmth grew inside of me, and another wetness ap-
peared on my stomach as we both came together in a shuddering mutual
orgasm.  Peter pressed his cock into me while the climax subsided, and
then collapsed with me pinned to the bed beneath him as we caught our
breath.  That was just where I wanted to be.

Peter rolled off of me, and lay back on the bed.  I hugged him, and
said, "I hope you're staying the night."  He nodded, and I said, "I
don't have any night clothes for you, but I have a nightie I want to
wear."  "That's fine," he said.  "I usually sleep nude anyway."  That
was just fine with me too.

I arose, and went to the bathroom to clean up, and returned with a warm
washcloth to do the same for Peter.  I got out my new blue lace nigh-
tie.  It was the same one that I had been admiring when I met Alan.  I
had gone back to buy it a few days later, and I wanted to wear it for
Peter.  I modeled it for his appreciative gaze before I lay back down
next to him.

"Peter," I asked as I lay in his arms, "why did you wait so long before
you kissed me tonight?"  "Well, doll," he replied, "this was our first
real date, and I wanted you to know that you could be as coy as any
girl with me that way.  A girl doesn't have to get sexual with a man
right away.  She teases him along as he works at seducing her.  I wan-
ted you to have that on your first real date, and it was more fun that
way for me too."

I kissed him for the pure joy of doing it, and to thank him for the
lesson he had taught me.  I liked being seduced his way.  I felt just
like the woman I was in his arms, and I loved him all the more for it.
We fell asleep with me cuddled close to him that way.  I wanted to be
like this with him often.  Peter was just what the doctor ordered!


Sub-title: Stone Walls do not a Prison Make

Peter left for home just before noon on Sunday.  We had made love an-
other time when we awoke.  I just could not get enough of being in his
arms.  Making breakfast for us was fun too.  It was sort of like play-
ing house.  I started dreaming of what it might be like to be doing it
every morning, and wondered if I would like being a housewife.  I de-
cided that I would as long as Peter was my husband.

It was raining that afternoon, so I just stayed home to putter around
the house.  Margo got home late in the day with a wild story about rom-
ping in the nude around the pool at Uncle Charlie's place, and giving
his chauffeur a blow-job on a deck chair while Carol had Uncle Charlie
tied to the diving board, and was clamping clothespins to his cock and
balls.  "You should come with us sometime," she suggested, but I pol-
itely declined the honor.  I preferred the way I had spent my weekend.

Margo did not go to "The Gilded Grape" that night.  She said that she
was too tired from her weekend, and wanted to give her body a rest.
That did not, however, stop her from working of her nightly drunk by
drinking beer and a few shots of whiskey while we watched television.

It was getting so that Margo could not function without a drink.  We
had almost missed the last rent payment because she had all but run out
of money from buying alcohol.  If I could have moved out I probably
would have, but I felt sort of obligated to staying with her until I
had a really good reason, and I did not know where else to go.  I could
not afford as nice an apartment as we had on just my salary.  I needed
something major to happen to break things loose.  I went to bed early,
partially to get away from Margo, but mostly to get a good night's
sleep.  I had an appointment with the photographer in the morning.

I arrived on time for my photo session at Tom's studio.  The girl at
the reception desk told me how to get to Tom's office, and I knocked at
the door.  His big, friendly voice boomed out, "Come in!," from inside,
and I entered.  The office was a lot neater than I had expected.  All
the decor was very trendy and modern in the style that was called "Mod"
at the time.  The walls were, of course, covered with photographs along
with a number of awards that he or the studio had won.

Tom was sitting behind a big, wooden desk talking on the telephone.  He
was leaning back in the chair with his feet up on the desk gesturing
with the pipe in his right hand as he talked.  He waved to me with the
pipe as I came in, and used it to point to a big, upholstered chair at
the front of his desk.  I took a seat to wait for him to finish his
conversation.

"Glad you could make it," Tom said when he hung up the phone.  "You're
the first one that we called in.  Did you bring your papers?"  I took
out the forms that he had given me in the envelope at the audition, and
passed them across the desk to him.  "I think that you'll find them all
in order," I said in a playfully businesslike tone as he took them.
"Good," he replied.  "All we need to do now is get your signature on a
model's release."  "What's that?," I asked.

Tom reached into a desk drawer, and brought out another form.  "This,"
he said, "is a Model's Release.  We can't use any photographs of you
for any purpose unless we have one on file.  By signing it, you give
the studio the right to sell photos of you as long as you have been
compensated for the session during which they were taken."  This was
still a little new to me, so I asked, "Why do you need it?  I thought
that all you did was take the picture, and use it."

"Not quite," Tom replied.  "You see you have a right to privacy under
the law.  If someone takes your picture, and sells it without your
written permission, that is an invasion of privacy.  The only exception
to that is if you are a public figure, or are involved in a news event.
The Model's Release is your written permission for the studio to use
your pictures for any purpose as long as it does not defame your char-
acter, and we have paid you in some way for posing.  Okay?"

It seemed all right, but I still asked, "What do you mean by any pur-
pose?"  "Well," said Tom, "let's say that we did the coat layouts.  We
could also use some of those shots for our own advertising.  If we did
a portfolio for you gratis, we could use the pictures as stock shots
for other things.  It's really to your advantage.  It lets us get your
pictures around, and that could mean more work and money for you."

I signed the form.  "Good," said Tom.  "Now you're officially a model.
Welcome to the studio!  Are you ready to get started?"  He did not have
to ask.  "Yes," I replied.  "What happens next?"

"What happens next," said Tom, "is for us to get you in front of a
lens.  I have a deal for you.  As a model or a dancer, you're going to
need a portfolio to show.  The test shots we want to do could be the
basis for that.  We'll do a full portfolio for you today if you'll al-
low us to sell the shots as stock photos, and do some cross-dress che-
esecake and soft core stuff of you.  Your fee for today will be the
portfolio, so you get no royalties for the shots if we sell them.  We
usually charge two-hundred and fifty dollars for a portfolio session
like this, so you aren't being cheated."  The deal sounded all right,
so I agreed.

"Okay," said Tom, "then it's time to meet your photographer."  "Aren't
you going to take them?," I asked.  "No," Tom replied with a laugh.  "I
run things now.  I only do a few special assignments any more.  I've
got eight photographers working for me.  You'll like the one you're
working with."  Tom picked up the phone, dialed an extension, and said,
"Ray?...  Can you step into the office?"  There was a short pause, and
Tom hung up the phone saying, "Ray's one of my best people.  He just
does fashion and cheesecake, so you'll probably be working a lot with
him."

A moment later there was a knock at the door, and Tom called out, "Come
in!"  The door opened, and in came Ray.  He was about six feet tall
with thinning, blonde hair, and looked to be in his mid-thirties.  Tom
introduced us, and Ray said, "Okay, let's get started."  He led the way
down the hall, and into a big loft room that was set up as a photo stu-
dio.  The walls were mostly bare brick, but one corner had a strange
sort of two level structure built in it.  "That's the dressing room,"
Ray said pointing to the structure.  "Put your stuff in the first flo-
or, and straighten your make-up.  My office is the top level.  The
make-up girl should be in to help you in a minute."  I went in, but
there was someone in there already.

"Hi," said a woman in her late twenties who appeared to be waiting for
me in the dressing room.  "My name's Wendy.  I do the make-up for Ray.
You must be Bobbi.  You sure don't look like any TV that I know.  I
think you'll do well here."  I did not expect her to know that I was
not all the woman I could be yet, so I asked, "How did you know?" Wendy
giggled, and said, "Ray told me.  It's part of the assignment for us to
know, but we won't tell anyone.  I understand you're going to be doing
mostly Straight stuff, so you'll just have to trust me with your sec-
ret.  Now, shall we get to work?"

I sat in the make-up chair, and Wendy put a make-up bib on me.  "Ray
wants to do some shots of you in your street clothes first, and then
we'll change into some costumes," she said as she worked on my make-up.
"Don't be nervous.  Ray comes off as being short and gruff, but he's
easy to work with if you just follow his direction.  All the girls like
working with him."  I was a little nervous, but Wendy had a very cal-
ming effect on me for some reason.  We talked a little more while she
worked on me.  She had started out as a model herself, but wound up
doing make-up here.  She said she still did a little modeling too, but
only as a fill in for stock photos.  When she was finished she said,
"There!  Now let's take some pictures!"

Ray did not say much at all as he started his work, and let Wendy set
up the shots.  The first part of the session was simple things.  We did
some portraits from one or two shots of just my face through some head
and shoulders poses, and ended up with some head-to-toe shots.  Ray
called them "mug shots" in a more jargonlike than cynical way.  He said
that all models needed them.  They were the basis of any good port-
folio.

"Okay," said Ray at last.  "Let's get down to some business here.  Let
me see how you can work that dress you're wearing."  Wendy cleared away
the table and chair we had been using as props.  Ray had been working
with a large format portrait camera, but now he picked up a 35MM.  He
took a picture of me, and said, "Don't just stand there.  Move around!
Let me see you move!"

I was not sure what to do.  I had never done this before, but I had to
do something.  I decided to try some of the dance moves that I had
learned.  I started slow, but it seemed to be what Ray wanted.  "That's
it," he called, "That's the way...  More swing in the hips...  Work the
skirt...  Shake your hair...  That's it!"  I kept it up, and got a
little more suggestive with my moves.  Ray liked that too, and kept
calling encouragement.  Then I pulled up my skirt, and gave him a few
cheesecake poses that showed my garters and panties.  Ray threw himself
into that too getting down low to get some shots up my skirt.

"That was good," Ray said.  "Let's get a dance costume on her, Wendy.
I've got to change film.  Then we'll get to other things."  Wendy and I
went back into the dressing room.  I was starting to have fun.

Once in the dressing room, Wendy said, "Now, one of the next lessons
that you've got to learn is not to keep the photographer waiting.  That
means that you have to learn how to change costumes quickly.  Take off
your clothes."  I wanted to be a good model, so I stripped down to my
bra and panties as fast as I could.  Wendy was arranging things on the
make-up table, but I could see that she was also watching me closely.
"It's remarkable," she said when I was down to just my underwear.  "I
know that your a TV, but I still can't see anything that might give it
away.  Well, the panties are fine, but the bra won't work under the
dance costume that we have.  You'll have to take that off too."

The costume was a dance leotard with some sequins to make it sparkle.
It was a light green color, and had a removeable, wrap around skirt
that would come to just above my knees.  Wendy also gave me a pair of
black fishnet tights.  "The costume has a built in bra," she said, "but
we'll have to fill it out with something.  You don't have as much up
top as most girls."  We giggled at this, and then I added, "Not yet,
anyway."  Wendy questioned what I meant by that, so I told her a little
about my plans for surgery, and the hormone treatments that I had star-
ted.  She seemed very interested saying, "I've never even known a TV
before, let alone worked with one.  I was a bit unsure when I took this
assignment, but it sounded interesting.  I'm glad I did now.  I think I
like you."

I felt a lot more comfortable too after she had said that.  I was be-
ginning to like Wendy too, and it was good to know that she felt the
same way.  People react to transvestites and transexuals in a lot of
different ways, and not always in a positive manner.  I have always
been somewhat self-conscious of this.  A bad reaction could have disas-
trous consequences sometimes.  I was glad that nothing like that would
happen here.

It did not take long to get me in the costume with Wendy's help, and I
was back in the chair getting my make-up adjusted.  The shades of blue
that I had been wearing on my eyes had to be replaced with greens to
match the costume.  "Green is really your color," Wendy said as she
worked.  "It goes well with your hair, but have you ever thought of
making your hair a little more red?"  My own hair was long enough now
that I did not need a wig, but the wigs I had were all a little more
red than my natural color.  "How would I do that?," I asked.  "Oh, just
a simple henna rinse should do it," she replied.  "I can show you later
if you like.  I'm going to be working on the coat assignment with you,
and we thought that we could use a redhead in the group, so I told Tom
I would ask you.  What do you think?"  I liked the idea, so I agreed.
"Then we'll do it later," she said finishing my make-up.  "Now let's
take some more pictures."

Ray was fiddling with the lighting when we emerged from the dressing
room.  "You two sure took your time in there," he said.  "Bobbi, you
say you're a dancer, so that's what I want you to do.  Just get out
there and dance.  We have some music to go with it, and all I want you
to do is go with the music.  You can make it as classical or as sexy as
you like.  Ready?"  I told him I was, and Wendy started the music.

I started to move to the rock beat, and Ray called out, "Just ignore
me, and concentrate on the music."  I did that, and just enjoyed let-
ting myself go.  I used every move that Tina and Toni had taught me,
and tossed in a few of my own.  I did high kicks and shimmies, and st-
ripped off the skirt to crawl on the floor tossing my hair about.  It
got very sexy and suggestive in some parts, but that is what Ray wanted
from me.  I gave it all I had.  All of it was punctuated with the fla-
shes of the strobes, and Ray's frequent calls of encouragement.  I
really was having fun.

"Okay, Bobbi," Ray said as the music died after about half an hour of
work.  "Take a rest, and sit over here."  We went over to a prop sofa
off to one side of the studio, and I plopped on it, glad for the chance
to take a break.  "It's about eleven-thirty," Ray said.  "Let's take
lunch now, and we can talk."  Wendy went to get some food from the deli
order that the studio had delivered every day, and I was alone with
Ray.

He lit a cigarette, and I refused his offer of one.  Then he explained,
"Tom told you that we want to do a sexy cross-dress layout of you.  Af-
ter lunch we're going to do a couple of coats first, and then I want to
try something else.  Since you're a dancer, I want you to do a strip-
tease.  I'll have a movie camera running, so there'll be no strobes,
but I will be doing some stills while you dance.  This will be sound,
so other than the music we all have to be careful of noise.  Have you
ever done a striptease before?"

I told him I had once, remembering the one I had done in the G.G.Girls
dressing room, and he said, "Good, but I want you nude at the end, and
I need your cock to show when you're finished.  Then we'll do some lin-
gerie and nudes.  Can you do that?"  I did not like to show my penis,
but it was part of the deal I had made with Tom.  I agreed as Wendy
returned with the food.

I just had a small salad for lunch.  The camera adds a few pounds to
anybody's apparent weight through optical distortions, and it would not
be an asset to have my tummy bulging with food while we worked this af-
ternoon.  We talked a bit about the striptease routine and the other
shots we would do while we ate.  Wendy played some of the music for the
dance, so I would have some idea of what I had to work with.

Wendy and I went back to the dressing room after lunch.  I took off the
dance costume, and was standing there in just my panties when Wendy
asked, "Where do you hide your cock?"  I noticed that she had been
staring at my crotch, so I sort of knew that she was curious about it.
"It's tucked back between my legs," I answered.  "Could I see it?," she
asked.  "I know that you're going to show it as part of this after-
noon's session, but I would rather have seen it here first.  Is that
possible?"  I nodded.

I put my thumbs in the waistband of my panties, and slid them down off
my legs.  I spread my thighs a bit, reaching between them to pull my
little penis out into Wendy's view.  She stared at it for a moment, and
then reached out to gently pet it with her fingers.  It twitched at her
touch, but she stroked it again.  Then she withdrew her hand saying,
"Thank you.  I've never worked with a transvestite before, and I just
had to see it before we did the nudes.  Are you going to have a sex
change?"

Her touch and her questions were all so very innocent that I could not
be offended in any way.  Her manner in them was almost childlike.
"Yes," I said, "I am going to have a sex change, but it is really more
like making me the sex I should always have been.  These male organs
are a prison for me.  Stone walls do not a prison make.  Emotions can
imprison us more securely than any concrete and steel.  I want to be
released from my prison."  Wendy looked at me strangely with almost a
tear in her eye.  "Let me help if I can," she said.  "All I know about
is make-up and beauty, but that could help.  Let me be your friend."

Wendy and I embraced, and she kissed me lightly on the cheek.  There
was nothing at all sexual in it.  It was just the way two women shared
their emotions together as friends.  I was being admitted a little fur-
ther into the sisterhood that women shared, and that was where I wanted
to be.  Wendy and I became good friends as well as co-workers.  That
helped a lot as things went on in my modeling career.

"Time for a new costume," Wendy said.  "I'd like you to get into just
your bra and panties for the coats.  We don't need a dress under them
for these shots.  Then we'll get you into the striptease gear."  I put
on my underwear again while Wendy stepped outside for a second, and I
heard her moving some things around.  She called me to come outside,
and I found that she had moved a rail of coats behind a changing screen
just outside of the door.

"Put on a coat," she said, "and walk out there and model it as if you
were working to an audience.  Just pretend Ray isn't there."  I did as
she asked, and Ray snapped pictures all the way through it.  Then it
was another coat, one after the other until all nine on the rail had
been done.  "Take ten!," Ray said after the last coat, signaling a very
welcome period of rest, or so I thought.

"Take off your clothes," Wendy said when I got back into the dressing
room expecting to rest for a few minutes.  "But, Ray said..." I star-
ted, but Wendy cut me off, saying, "Never mind that.  Photographers
only have to change film.  The can afford ten minutes for a smoke.  We
have to change clothes and make-up.  They get to work now!  Strip!"

In seconds I was nude, and sitting in the make-up chair so that Wendy
could remove all of my powder and paint.  Then she handed me a shimmer-
ing, silver lame' g-string and pasties.  It was not easy to get the g-
string into a position to secure my little penis in its tuck, but I got
it there.  Next was a red jersey bikini panty with string ties at the
hips, and a red jersey bra that was really just a pair of falsies cov-
ered in fabric, and connected with elastic straps.  Over that went a
black lace garter-belt with sheer stockings, and a black lace full-slip
with breakaway seams.  The top layer was a pink sequined dress with a
low cut neckline, and a skirt that was slightly flared.  The shoes also
glittered with pink sequins.

The make-up that Wendy had chosen was also a series of shades of pink,
but with ruby red lipstick for my lips.  "Pink is another good color
for you," she said as she worked on me.  "It goes with your hair almost
as well as the green."  It did not take too much time to get me changed
and made-up again, and soon I was ready to do my first theatrical style
striptease which was also my first striptease in front of a camera.

"When you go out there," Wendy said giving me my stage directions, "go
to the middle of the set, and pose.  I'll slate the scene, and start
the movie camera.  When Ray calls for 'action' just go with the music,
and do your strip.  Don't get off the set, though, until Ray calls
'cut'.  I'll have a robe out there for you, but you'll stay nude under
it out there for the next break.  We'll do lingerie and nudes after the
striptease, so there'll be no need to come back in here."

The set was bathed in bright theatrical lights when I stepped out of
the dressing room.  I went to center stage, and struck a dancer's pose
with my hands on my hips, and my back arched slightly to hold my head
high.  I hear Wendy announce the scene over the soft whirr of the movie
camera, and the snap of the slate followed by Ray's call of, "ACTION!"
The music started, and I began to dance.

A properly done striptease means that you remove one article or layer
of clothing for each song that it part of the music.  There were six
musical numbers on the tape which set the pace for my movements, and
that meant almost half an hour of dancing for me.  In the first number
I danced in the dress lifting the skirt to show my garters before
stripping it off at the end.  The second number had me give a sharp tug
at the bodice of the slip about half way through to break the temporary
stitches at the seams, so it could just fall off me.  The third number
was a lot of high-kicks and leg flashes as I lost my stockings and gar-
ter-belt.  Then at the end of the fourth number, I pulled the string
ties on the bra and panties of the red jersey bikini, and struck a
flamboyant pose in just the pasties and g-string to wait for the next
piece of music to begin.

The next and fifth number was a hard driving bit of jazz with lots of
brass, drums, and bass in the classic tradition of the striptease.  I
let things get really hot in this one, bumping and grinding for all I
was worth.  I could not see or hear Ray or Wendy for all of the lights
and music, so I lost all touch with them.  I was alone in a cloud of
light on a sea of music, and I let the waves of both crash over me.

My movements went beyond the simple suggestiveness of a striptease, and
became downright lewd and pornographic.  There were two tiny stings at
my nipples when I pulled off the pasties about half way through the
number, but I danced on in just a silver lame' g-string.  At last I
turned my back to the camera at the end of the number to strip off the
g-string, and await the sixth and final number with my naked bottom
facing the lens.

More brass and bass filled the air, and I turned to face the camera.
My little penis was still in its tuck, so all that appeared at my
crotch was a bit of feminine looking pubic hair.  I danced that way for
about thirty seconds, and then flexed my thighs to pop my little penis
out into the light for all to see.  It was sort of semi-hard from the
excitement of doing this striptease, so it stuck out from my body just
a bit.  I swear that I heard either Ray or Wendy gasp when it appeared.
I was into the dance completely by then, and just kept going.  Ray and
Tom had wanted a pornographic, transvestite striptease, so that is
exactly what I gave them!

The last notes of the last song died away, and I held my last pose.  I
was totally naked and exposed under the lights and before the lens.  I
could hear Ray's camera clicking away a last few shots before he cal-
led, "CUT!," and I heard the movie camera stop.  Ray shut down the
lights as Wendy came over to put a red nylon robe around me.  "Take a
break," said Ray, and we all went over to the prop sofa in the corner
for a much needed rest.  I was still having fun, but getting tired.

I guess that my performance was the sort of thing that the studio had
wanted, for I could see at least a small bulge at the crotch of Ray's
pants when he sat down.  "That was quite a show, Bobbi," Ray said as he
lit a cigarette.  "I've worked with cross-dressers before, but none
quite like you.  I think you'll do very well here.  You can do Straight
stuff as well as any woman I know, and if your lingerie and nudes are
anything like that striptease...  Well, let's just say that I enjoy
working with you."  It was nice to know I could turn on a Straight guy
too!

The work with the lingerie and the nudes that we did were all pretty
tame by comparison to my porno debut as a striptease dancer.  We had
three nighties to do, and we handled them the same as the coats.  I
would put each one on, and do a sort of runway walk through the studio
while Ray snapped pictures from various angles.  We did a few sexy
poses with them, but I had expended a lot of energy on the striptease,
so I needed to work back up to things.

Next was a red bra, panty, and garter-belt set.  It was lace, and Wendy
helped me pad out the bra cups so that it looked like I had a lot more
than I did, but in a way that would not let the camera see the falsies.
I went right into the sexy poses this time.  The sofa had been moved
onto the set as a prop at my request, and I used it to lie on while I
writhed around to show off all the sexuality I could.  I also decided
to give the studio a little more to add to its now growing pornography
collection of me.

As I lay on the sofa with my legs spread, I pulled the crotch of the
panty aside, and let my little penis slip out.  "Great!," shouted Ray.
"Hold that!"  He meant to stay in that pose for a moment while he got a
couple of shots, but I decided to be a bit evil, and take him more lit-
erally.  I took hold of my little penis, and worked it with my hand
until it got hard.  Then I did a few more poses with it sticking out
for all to see.  I did not really like showing my penis this way, but
it was part of the deal I had made with the studio.  I also thought
that the pictures might be of some interest to look back on after I had
my penis removed.

Whatever would happen with the photos, the session was having quite an
effect on my co-workers.  Ray had gotten a thrill from my striptease,
and when the lingerie and penis pictures were done, I could see the
nipples on Wendy's breasts pressing through the material of her blouse.
I had managed to turn everybody, including me, on, and I liked that.  I
have always enjoyed being a tease.

"Okay, girls," announced Ray when his film ran out after the lingerie
pictures, "that's a wrap!  It's three-thirty, and I have to get all
this film ready for the lab.  Besides, if our new model gets it any
hotter in here, my lenses are going to melt!"  Wendy and I started back
toward the dressing room as Ray added, "Come back next Monday at
10:00AM, Bobbi.  We can look over all the shots together then after the
lab is done with them, and I'll help you pick out a portfolio."  I told
him I would, and followed Wendy into the dressing room.  I was a real
model now.

I took off the lingerie in the dressing room, and sat in the make-up
chair.  I was nude, but that hardly seemed to matter now.  Wendy took a
seat in the big chair in the corner, and said, "Well, Bobbi, we're
almost done for today.  We just have to hang up that last outfit, and
get you and me presentable for the street again.  Only I'm too tired to
do it yet."  She stretched to relieve some of the fatigue, and said,
"You're quite a turn-on when you want to be.  You even got me going at
the end, and Ray was really into that striptease of yours.  You prob-
ably couldn't see for the lights, but a couple of times he was so into
watching you that he forgot to take pictures!  Just keep it on the set,
though, honey.  Ray is all mine outside of the studio."

Wendy added a sort of giggle to this by way of saying that she was not
angry, but her message came through all the same.  We could be close
friends, but do not mess with her man!  That was another part of the
sisterhood of women.  No matter how close I would get to another woman,
there were still some things that would not be tolerated.  The signals
were getting clearer now.  I was really becoming a woman, but I still
would need a catalyst to start me on the last part of the journey.
That catalyst would come all too soon.

"Could we try that henna rinse another time?," Wendy asked.  "I'd like
to do it for you now, so you can get used to it, but I just don't feel
up to it."  I was beat too.  I was absolutely exhausted!  This had been
a very long day for me.  If I thought that I worked hard as a stockboy,
I had another think coming.  I had never pictured a model's job as be-
ing this much work.  I thought all you did was dress up nice, and smile
pretty.  This was work!

There was a small shower stall as part of the toilet room that was con-
nected to the dressing room, and Wendy let me use it first.  When I
came out, she was waiting in just a robe.  It sort of made me conscious
of my own nudity.  I was just openly cavorting about in the nude.  It
would not have mattered to me if Wendy had done the same, but she had
the modesty to cover up.  "I guess I should have a robe too," I said
with a blush rising in my cheeks.  "Well...," replied Wendy.  "After
the type of session we just did there really isn't anything between us
to hide, but you should get used to wearing one around the set most of
the time.  There are a lot of eyes around, and once they get a look,
some of them think they're entitled to more.  Save yourself a lot of
trouble, and stay covered except when you're in front of a lens."

I got back into my lingerie while Wendy was in the shower.  She came
out with a sort of nervous look on her face.  She looked at me stran-
gely for a long moment, and then said, "Okay, girlfriend.  We only have
one dressing room here, so remember that we're both supposed to be
girls."  With that, she took off the robe, and tossed it over the
chair.

Wendy was as pretty in the nude as she was in her street clothes.  Her
breasts were round and globular, her hips were narrow and seductive,
and the hair at her crotch was trimmed to just a vertical bar, so it
would not show in a bikini panty.  She stood still to let me look her
over, and said, "Well, what do you think?  I wanted to return the favor
you did me before by showing me your cock.  Ray wants to do a series of
nudes of you and a real-girl, and I got him to let me do the real-girl
part.  I'm no stranger to porno.  I don't look as good as you in front
of a lens, so I don't get to do fashion.  I like what I did today, but
I like to model too.  The only way I get to do any modeling is naked."
There was just the merest hit of a tear in her eye as she spoke.

"I'd be honored to pose with you," I said.  I knew that my words could
do little to relieve the pain she was feeling.  Wendy wanted to be a
fashion model very badly, but she was not quite fashion model caliber.
Almost anyone could be a model of some sort, but a fashion model is the
elite.  It is not just beauty.  The qualifications go far beyond that.
There is also a certain style in the way a fashion model moves and car-
ries herself.  Some of it can be learned, but most of it seems almost
inborn or instinctive.

Wendy lacked these qualities.  She did the cheesecake and pornography
because that was what she could get offers to do.  Most of what she did
was with Ray behind the lens.  They were also lovers off the set, but
did not live together.  Ray was too into "doing his own thing" for
that.

"That's all right, Bobbi," Wendy said as we went back to our dressing.
"I'm content with what I do.  Oh, I would rather be doing other things,
but I'm happy here.  Look, why don't you come over to my place on Thur-
sday night, and I'll do that henna rinse for you.  We girlfriends
should see each other off the set too."  I readily agreed, and Wendy
offered to do my make-up before we left.  "When you get to be a big
star," she said as she worked, "maybe you'll hire me as your personal
cosmetician."  It was a joke, but it was also a pretty good idea.  Now
all I had to do was figure out how I was going to go about becoming a
big star.

It did not take long before Wendy and I were ready to leave.  She look-
ed different in a dress somehow.  All day she had been working in jeans
and an old blouse, but I guess those were her work clothes.  The dress
she wore was nothing fancy, but she wore it well.  There was still a
lot of "model" in her even if she did not do fashion work.  "Got any-
thing special planned for tonight?," she asked as we left the dressing
room.  "No," I replied.  "I might stop by the local bar for a drink,
but I'll probably just go home."  Wendy took my hands in her's, and
moved her face close to mine in the sort of mock kiss that women do as
a greeting.  "Well," she said, "if you've got nothing else to do, call
me, and we'll chat some more.  You're fun as a friend.  If I don't hear
from you, have a good time!"

I returned her pleasantries, and she went up the stairs to Ray's of-
fice.  I left the studio, and started for home.  All of what I wanted
in life was starting to fall into place.  I was taking dance lessons, I
had a part-time job as a model, I had some good friends, I had a nice
boyfriend in Peter, I had a mother to lean on in Edith, and I had found
a doctor to help me become all the woman I could be.  What was it then,
that felt like something holding me back?  I needed one more thing to
happen to push me over that obstacle.  I was soon to be pushed.

By the time I got home it was almost six o'clock.  I had walked home,
so that I could think about what was going on in my life.  Margo was
getting dressed when I got in.  She was going to "The Gilded Grape" as
usual, and asked if I was going along.  That night I really felt like
going for two very important reasons.  Firstly, I wanted the normally
festive atmosphere of the bar around me.  I had just become a model of
a sort, so I think I was entitled to celebrate a little.  Secondly, I
needed some money.  I had to pay for my hormone shot on Wednesday, and
get through the rest of the week, but I did not have enough money to do
it.  Two tricks should resolve that problem.  I did not like turning
tricks for cash, but prostitution was always a quick and easy way of
making ends meet if you knew how to do it, and Margo had taught me
well.

"Would you mind if Carol spent a couple of days here?," asked Margo as
we dressed.  "You mean a couple of nights in your bed, don't you?," I
said with a giggle.  "Whatever," replied Margo with some annoyance in
her voice.  "She'll sleep in my room with me," she continued, "and you
won't know we're here.  We want to spend some time together, and she's
getting a lot of hassles from her Landlord."

I had suspected that Margo and Carol were lovers for a while.  The fact
did not bother me, but Carol did.  I did not like her at all.  It was,
however, really Margo's apartment, so she could do what she liked here.
At least she had told me by way of "asking" me if I minded rather than
just "telling" me Carol was coming.  "No," I said.  "I don't mind at
all.  Are you ready to leave yet?"

"The Gilded Grape" was never a hotbed of activity on a Monday night,
but there were a few people around when we got there.  This was Emma's
night off, so Margo went to the front bar to talk to Edie.  I did not
see anyone I knew very well, so I just went to the bar at the back of
the place.  Margo did not complain that I did not sit with her.  She
knew why I was here, and the back bar was a better place for hustling
tricks.  I ordered a drink, and waited.

It did not take long for someone to notice me.  He was dressed very
casually, but was good looking enough.  He started by just staring at
me until I turned to him, and said, "Hello."  We talked about nothing
in particular, and finally I got the subject around to sex.  That star-
ted slowly until he bluntly whispered, "I'll give you twenty dollars
for a hand-job in the toilet."  This was not what I normally did, but
the price was better that normal for a hand-job.  I leaned over to him,
and whispered, "If you can get into the last stall in the Ladies Room,
I'll do you there."  He agreed, and made his way to the appointed spot.

I waited a few minutes so as not to arouse suspicion, and went in af-
ter him.  The room was deserted when I got there, so I went to the last
stall, and tapped on the door.  It opened, and there he sat on top of
the toilet tank with his feet on the rim of the bowl.  He had taken off
his pants, and was naked from the waist down.  I stepped into the stall
with him, and latched the door behind me.  "I've never gotten jerked
off in a Ladies Room before," he said with a slightly insane sounding
giggle.

I was not enjoying this already, so I said, "Let's do business first."
He looked puzzled, and said, "Huh?"  This was going to be neither fun
nor easy.  "Pay me now, and then I'll do your dick!," I said with some
exasperation in my voice.  "Oh!," he said, and handed me a crumpled wad
of paper that turned out to be a ten and two fives.  "Fine," I said.
"Now let me get to work."

The Ladies Room at "The Gilded Grape" never smelled like a flower gar-
den, but there was a new odor now.  It did not take long to realize
that the source of the smell was my trick!  I do not think he bathed at
all.  These were the "Hippie Years", and that was part of being hip to
some people.  When I gripped his cock, it felt all sweaty and slimy.  I
pumped my hand up and down it, and was very pleased that I did not have
to put it in my mouth to give him a blow-job.

His cock was hard, but not straight.  It sort of twisted to the left,
and bent upwards in the middle.  I pumped it for all I was worth to get
this over with, and get away from the ugly and smelly thing.

It only took me a few minutes to make him cum, but he seemed to delight
in watching himself shoot.  He also liked the way the cum that did not
drop into the toilet ran over my hand.  When he was finished cumming,
he took my hand, and licked it clean.  I told him to stay in the stall
for ten minutes while I left.  I got out quick, washed my hands, and
went back to the bar.  He did not come out for half an hour.  I do not
want to know what else he might have been doing in there!

Soon, another man sat on the stool next to mine at the bar.  He was
casually dressed, but not a Hippie type like the other one.  His build
ran to the heavy side, almost fat.  He wore glasses, and although he
was not exactly handsome, he was not bad looking.  I looked over at
him.  He looked back, so I said, "Care to buy a woman a drink?"  He
smiled nicely, and answered, "Sure.  I've seen you here before, but
I've never had the chance to talk to you.  You're very pretty."  I sip-
ped my drink.  "Oh?," I said.  "Then you like pretty girls like me?"
"Very much," he answered.  "Would you like to go somewhere, and get to
know me better?," I asked.  "How much?," he replied.  He knew the pro-
cedure.

We got up from the bar, and he followed me outside.  I took him to The
Alva Hotel where most of the girls went with their tricks.  He checked
us in as just another of the vast list of "Mr & Mrs John Smiths" that
filled their register, and we went to our room.  As soon as we were in-
side, he produced his wallet, and handed me two tens and a five.  "What
do you want to do?," I asked.  "Whatever you like to do most," he rep-
lied.  I thought for a moment.  I liked to get fucked, but a blow-job
would be quicker.  "I'd like to suck you off," I said.  "Okay," he an-
swered, and started taking off his pants.  When he was naked from the
waist down, I tool him into the bathroom, and washed his cock.  I am
not fond of the taste of sweat.

He left the bathroom, and went straight for the bed.  He lay on his
back, and waited for me to get to work.  I never really liked turning
tricks, but I do like giving a man a good time.  This goes for either
lovers or tricks.  This trick would be no exception, and besides, if he
liked what he got tonight, he might be back again.  Even a prostitute
has to think of he marketing.

I slowly slipped out of my clothes until I wore only my bra, panties,
garter-belt, stockings, and heels.  I posed for him that way for a few
minutes in all the sexy ways I could think of, and he responded with a
broad smile, and lots of words of compliment and encouragement.  Then I
got onto the bed between his legs, and kissed his cock right on the
tip.  It jumped and twitched at this, and I started licking it all
over.  After a moment of me licking his cock, he lifted his thigh to
nudge me up, and asked, "Could we fuck instead?"

He was just so sweet about everything, that I agreed.  I liked getting
fucked better anyway.  I got up, got a tube of Vaseline from my purse,
and gave it to him, saying, "Get yourself lubricated while I get ready
for you."  While he squeezed some jelly on the head of his cock, I un-
hooked my garters, and removed my panties.  Then I put some lubricant
on my ass, and got beck into bed with him.  He pulled me onto my right
side with him behind me.  His right arm was under me, and pulled me
back against him.  His left arm reached down, and positioned his hard
cock against my anal opening.  He thrust his loins forward, and I
pushed my ass back burying his meat in me.  I let out a little gasp
when he entered me.  He felt bigger back there than I had expected him
to be.

His left arm now came over the top of me, and both arms gripped tightly
in a bear-hug.  His right hand found its way under my bra to pinch and
tickle one of my nipples while his left hand groped for my little pe-
nis, and having found it, gripped it to sort of jerk me off while we
fucked.  The thrusting of his cock was not hard and violent, but slow
and pulsing.  In his arms as I was, I felt as if I was wrapped in some
sort of a machine of total sexual stimulation.  I might not like tur-
ning tricks in general, but I was enjoying this one.  Every nerve cen-
ter of sexual energy that I had was being given attention in some way.
I could have rocked like that in his arms for hours.  I hoped he cer-
tainly would be a repeat customer.

We rocked back and forth in that embrace for some time.  Normally, I
would work to get things finished quickly, but his cock felt just so
good in my ass the way it was, and the stimulation my own little penis
was getting from his left hand was so exciting that I just let him ride
me for as long as he liked.  Then, at last, the climax started, and I
felt his cock throb in my ass as he shot his sperm up into my bowels.
His hand pumped harder now on my little penis, and was rewarded when my
own cum spilled out onto the bedsheets.  I was panting hard, gasping
for breath, and I felt his hot breath against the back of my neck as he
did the same.  We lay there for a little while with his cock still
oozing semen into my ass, and my little penis dripping on the bed until
it was time to go.

We both got up, and I invited him back into the bathroom where I clean-
ed us both up.  He might have paid for the trick, but I had gotten
something out of it too.  It was one way I could repay him.  "What's
your name?," he asked as we got dressed.  "Bobbi," I replied pulling my
dress over my head.  "That's a nice name," he said.  "Mine's Bob.  I
hope I'll see you again."  I smiled thinking of how good his cock had
felt in my ass.  "Oh, I'm sure you will," I said.  "Are you going back
to the bar?"  "No," he said, "I'm going home."  "Well," I said, "then
maybe I'll see you next week," and kissed him.  He kissed back, but did
not take me in his arms.  I do not think he realized he could have if
he wanted to.

We left the hotel together, and parted company at the corner.  I wat-
ched him walk away before I headed back to "The Gilded Grape" again.  I
did not have any regular tricks of my own, but I hoped Bob would be
one.  I just liked the way he fucked.

Patty was sitting at the back bar of "The Gilded Grape" when I got
there.  She gave me an evil smile, and said, "My, but aren't we the
proper little whore tonight, girlfriend.  Two tricks already, and it's
not even nine o'clock yet."  I was shocked!  "How did you know?!," I
asked.  "You know there are no secrets in here," Patty said with the
same evil grin.  "Margo told Edie that you went to the back to turn
tricks, and Edie's been watching what you've been up to.  She told me
you went to the hotel with some fat guy, so I came back here to wait
for you."  Patty lit a cigarette, and added, "You can take all the
johns you want to the hotel, but don't do anymore tricks in the Ladies
Room, or you'll get yourself eighty-sixed from here.  Gerry, the owner,
could lose his licence for letting that sort of thing go on.  It's okay
this time, but don't do it again!  Emma will eighty-six you for sure if
she finds out."

I composed myself.  It was just not worth getting angry over.  Drag
queens are notorious gossips, so the story would be all over the place
soon enough.  There was nothing I could do about it no matter how much
I disliked it, but this was not how a real woman should have to live.
I was growing to hate this bar, and the life that went on around it.  I
had to find a way to start living as a real woman.

"What brings you here tonight?," I asked.  "Oh," said Patty, "the same
as you.  I've been working the street outside, and I just came in for a
drink."  "Outside on the street?," I said quizzically.  "You mean with
all the real-girl hookers?"  Patty laughed, and said, "Not exactly.
The real-girls work all of 8th Avenue.  We work the west side of 8th
Avenue from 46th to 45th Street, and the north side of 45th Street be-
tween 8th and 9th Avenues.  The johns all know it, so just make sure he
gives some sign that he knows you've got a dick, and watch out for
cops.  The law's the same now for both boys and girls.  If you get ar-
rested, you go to jail at least overnight, and there's a hundred dollar
fine."

"What'd you mean about the law being the same for boys and girls now?,"
I asked.  "It used to be different," Patty replied.  "The law on pros-
titution used to be used to be specific to women, so technically a man
could not be a prostitute, and the worst they could bust you on was
loitering, but they changed that now.  You can be as much a prostitute
in the eyes of the law as a real-girl now.  Ain't equality grand?"  We
both laughed.  This was one step on my way to becoming all the woman I
could be that at least did not require surgery.

"I'm going to try one on the street," I said to Patty.  I had always
been fascinated by the hookers, and fantasized about joining them.  Now
was the time.  "Easy now," Patty said.  "I've been doing this for a
while, and you've only done it in this bar.  Gerry, the owner, pays off
the cops to leave us alone in here.  Outside of this bar you're on your
own.  You have to be careful out there."  I was determined.  "I still
want to try it," I said.  "Okay," said Patty, "I can't stop you.  Stick
to where I told you to, and watch out for cops.  Their out in both uni-
forms and plain clothes tonight!"  "I will," I said, and got up to
leave.

In a moment, I was out on the street.  There were a couple of other
"girls" that I knew from the bar out there too, so I felt reasonably
safe.  I started off by walking slowly and seductively up 8th Avenue to
46th street, then back down to 45th Street, and around the corner to
where the back door to "The Gilded Grape" was.  A number of potential
johns looked me over, but none stopped.  Then I heard on of the other
girls say, "D'ya wan'a date?," to a john, and he stopped to talk to
her.  That must be the code phrase.  I guessed I should try it too.

I also noticed that the girls only walked the street enough so as not
to be picked up for loitering.  The johns were left to come to them.
The doorway in front of the beauty supplies store next to "The Gilded
Grape" was vacant, so I settled in there to wait for someone to notice
me.  I soon knew why most of the street girls smoked.  It was boring
just standing there, and I wished I had a cigarette just for something
to do.

Then I saw a guy looking at me.  He was tall, and well built with curly
black hair that made him look very Italian.  His face was rugged and
handsome.  He walked by the doorway very close to me, and gave me a
look as he passed.  A few steps later, he stopped, turned, and came
back again.  As he passed me this time, I said, "Do you want a date?"

He stopped, and looked me over.  "What?," he asked.  I said, "Do you
want a date?"  "What sort of date?," he asked.  I was not sure what was
going on, so I said, "Would you like to go to the hotel with me?  It'll
only cost you twenty-five for me, and ten for the room."  He looked
very seriously at me, and said, "You are asking me to pay you twenty-
five dollars, so that we can go to the hotel where you will have sex
with me.  Is that correct?"  I did not understand why he was asking me
that way, but I replied, "Yes," and waited for his response.  His res-
ponse was to reach into his pocket, and pull out his wallet.  This
flipped open, so that he could hold up his policeman's badge!

I wanted to run, but my feet were riveted to the pavement.  "You have
solicited me for the purpose of prostitution," he said in a cop's mono-
tone voice.  "I therefore place you under arrest in the name of the
City of New York."  He took one of my wrists, and pulled it behind me.
I heard the click of his handcuffs as they snapped around that wrist,
and then the same on my other wrist.  With my arms handcuffed behind
me, he walked me to the north side of 46th Street where a police van
waited.  I soon joined four other prostitutes inside.  The shove my
life had needed had come.  I was arrested!

I could not believe what had just happened.  The van was dark inside,
but I could make out the faces of my companions enough to know that I
had never seen them in "The Gilded Grape" before.  They must all have
been real-girls.

The van smelled like a urinal that someone had been trying to disin-
fect, and the seats were just plain wooden boards.  Two of the girls
were talking about how they were going to be out of jail as soon as
they called their pimp, and swapping stories about the johns that had
fucked them that night.  A tall blonde with huge breasts sat in silence
in one corner, and seemed almost to be napping.  The fourth girl was
bent over, and sobbing piteously.  I just sat in disbelief staring at
them.  We all had our hands handcuffed behind us.

Twenty minutes later the door of the van swung open, and another blonde
girl joined us.  She bumped against me as she sat down, but said noth-
ing.  The glazed expression on her face said that she was not quite in
contact with the world around her.  She looked drugged.

"Take this load down to The Tombs," came the sharp voice of a police
sergeant through the open door, "and come right back!  We should make a
good haul tonight."  Then the door slammed shut, and we were left in
the dark with only the sobbing to break the silence.

The motor of the van started with a roar, and we began to move.  The
seats and suspension were not made for comfort, so we bounced back and
forth as the van weaved through the Manhattan traffic.  Each time we
hit a bump, my little tush was bounced on the hard wooden seat.  The
handcuffs had been put on tightly, and were chafing my wrists.  The
smell in the van was nauseating.

Then the glassy eyed girl next to me leaned forward, and started to
vomit!  I jumped away from her, and slammed into one of the girls who
had been talking.  "Watch what you doin', bitch!," she shouted, and
shoved me back.  The van hit a bump, and the vomiting girl fell to the
floor.  She just lay there in the mess she had made.  All we were left
with was the gurgling sounds of her retching, and the sobbing of the
other girl.  There was vomit on my skirt and leg that I could not do
anything about with my wrists handcuffed behind me.  I felt like crying
too.

The van halted at last, and we sat for a moment in the dark.  The door
opened, and a policeman in the doorway said, "All right, ladies, last
stop!  All out for The Tombs!"  Then he saw the girl lying in the pool
of vomit on the floor.  "Fer chrissakes!," he said.  "Hey, Harry!  Get
a stretcher and a mop!  We got a puker, and she's passed out.  Call
Bellevue, and get an ambulance over here."

They made the rest of us stay in the stench of the van while they pul-
led her out on the stretcher.  Then we got out.  One cop stood in the
doorway to hold out arms, so we would not slip on the vomit covered
floor on the way out.  He grabbed a feel of my ass as I passed him.

We were taken inside, and a policewoman took our names and addresses.
I gave my name as "Bobbi" like I always did, but she did not ask what
sex I was.  She typed it all onto a form, and then took an inventory of
my purse for the record.  "You'll get this back when you're released,"
she said putting a tag on the property bag that now held my purse.
"Come with me!"  She led me into a room that had a series of cubicles
with telephones in them.  "You get one phone call," she said.  "Make it
a good one."

I went to an open cubicle.  Who should I call?  Margo would be too
drunk by now if she was home at all.  Edith would be home, but I did
not remember her number.  There was only one person I could call.  Pet-
er was all but a lawyer too.  He would know what to do.  Nervously, I
dialed his number, and prayed he would be home.

"Hello?," said Peter's voice at the other end of the line.  "Peter,
this is Bobbi," I said.  "I need..."  "Hi, doll!," Peter interrupted.
"I had a really good time last night.  Can we get together agai..."
"Peter!  I'm in jail!," I broke in.  "What... what do you mean you're
in jail?," he said.  "I got arrested, and I need help!," I replied.
"Okay, doll," Peter said.  "Calm down.  What was the charge?"  The next
word I said was not what I wanted to say to him.  I swallowed hard, and
said, "Prostitution!"

There was a long pause on the other end of the telephone line.  Then
Peter spoke in cold, measured tones.  "Did you do it?," he said.  I
thought carefully, and said, "I didn't go to bed with him.  I was on
the street, and this guy was looking me over.  I propositioned him on a
lark.  I didn't know he was a cop."  "Did you ask for money?," Peter
asked quickly.  "Yes," I answered quietly, and with shame in my voice.

Peter had lost the happy tone in his voice when he spoke to me.  It
would never really come back again.  "Where are you?," he asked.  "The
Tombs," I replied.  "I'll get you a lawyer," Peter said.  "Do whatever
they tell you to, don't answer any questions until the lawyer gets
there, and don't make any more trouble.  I'll see you in the court."

Then Peter hung up.  I was shaking all over, but managed to make it
back to where the policewoman was waiting for me.  "Here," she said
holding out a packet of tissues for me.  "You look like you need these
more than I do."  It was only then I noticed I was crying.

She led me out of the room, and into another where she did a quick pat
down body search.  Then we went down a long hall, and through a bared
gate.  There were dozens of cage-like cells inside.  She opened one,
and put me inside with five other women.  There were six bunks in the
cell in two tiers of three.  "Have a good night, ladies," she said.
"We'll see you in the morning.  Got too many in Night Court to do you
now."

The clang of the cell door closing went through me like a lightning
bolt.  Stone walls do not a prison make, but cold steel now held me
fast.  I was now imprisoned physically as well as biologically.


Sub-title: At Mother's Knee

I stared out into the middle distance through the bars of the cell.  My
whole life seemed to have fallen in on me.  From the way he had sounded
on the phone, I had just lost Peter.  I now had a police record as a
common street prostitute.  He would not want me anymore.

How could I tell Edith what had happened?  Would she still want me as a
daughter now?  Would Dr. Benjamin find out?  What would he say about
it?  Margo would probably laugh, and give me a lecture about letting
myself be suckered by that cop.  The "G.G.Girls" would gossip about it
all over the bar.  Patty would have a cynical remark to make.  A thous-
and questions and scenes ran through my mind.  What would become of me?

"First time you've been busted, honey?," said a voice behind me.  I
turned to see a woman in her late twenties looking at me.  She was
about my height with long honey-blonde hair, and was dressed very fas-
hionably in an understated sexy way.  "It's all right," she said.  "It
happens to all of us from time to time.  What name do you go by?"  I
dried my eyes with a tissue.  At least she was someone to talk to.
"Bobbi," I said.

"That's a pretty name," she said.  "My name is Helen.  You ought to get
some sleep.  You look like you could use it.  They'll have us up at six
for breakfast, and you won't get much rest with all the noise in here
all night as it is."  I shook my head.  "I don't think I could sleep
here," I said.

Helen shrugged.  "Suit yourself," she said, "but I'm going to get some
sleep.  How about at least unzipping my dress for me?"  I looked at her
quizzically, and asked, "You're going to get undressed?"  "Well," she
replied, "I don't want to get this dress wrinkled, so we just sleep in
our underwear.  That is...  as long as you're wearing some underwear."
She laughed at that, and I even laughed a little too.  She did not seem
to be bothered much that she was in jail for prostitution, but then,
she did not look like a prostitute.  The ones I knew were either the
street hookers with their flashy clothes and slutty ways, or the girls
of "The Gilded Grape" who only differed in the plumbing of their bio-
logical gender.  Helen did not look like either of those types.  She
looked very sexy, but with class.  She looked like an executive's wife
on her way to a party at the company president's house.

"Well?," Helen said turning her back to me, and holding up her hair to
give me access to the zipper at the back of her dress.  "I'm wearing
underwear.  Could you do my zipper?"  I tugged down the tab to open the
back of her dress, and said, "You don't dress or act like the others
here.  Are we all in for the same thing?"  Helen looked pleased as she
removed her dress exposing her satin and lace, white lingerie, and the
voluptuous body that it encased.  "Thank you," she said.  "No... we're
all just whores in here.  I just don't work the street.  I'm a call-
girl."

Helen hung her dress on a hook near the bunk she had picked for her-
self.  "Need any help?," she asked.  "With what?," I replied.  "Well,"
Helen said, "you were nice enough to help me with my dress, so I
thought I'd return the favor.  You might also need some help into that
top bunk.  You wouldn't want to fall."

I resigned myself to the fact that, like it or not, I was going to have
to sleep here tonight.  I turned my back to allow Helen to unzip my
dress.  As she did it, she ran her hand down my back in a caress that
sent shivers down my spine.  Her hands then spread the back of my
dress, and in so doing, caressed my shoulders continuing down my arms.
"What are you doing?," I asked.  "You have lovely skin," replied Helen.
"I'd very much like to touch more of it."

Helen looked me in the eyes with a look that I had up to then only seen
in the eyes of men intent upon seducing me.  Before I could speak, she
said, "You don't belong out on the street.  You could make a lot more
money, and live a lot easier working with me.  I have two other girls,
and I act as a sort of 'agent' for them.  I take the calls, set up the
dates, and you get ninety percent of the fee plus any extras the client
might give you.  Think about it.  I'll give you my card in the morning
when I get my purse back.  You can call me, and we'll have lunch to
talk it over.  That way maybe we can get to know each other a lot bet-
ter too."

Helen was a Lesbian!  She had all but just flat out propositioned me.
I had to say something.  "I think you've got the wrong idea about me,"
I said.  "Oh?," Helen replied.  "Can I trust you with a secret?," I
asked.  Helen nodded.  "I think I'm in the wrong cell," I said.  "I was
arrested for prostitution, but despite the dress and lingerie... I'm
really a boy!"

Helen looked at me in surprised disbelief.  She stood close in front of
me, pulled my dress to the floor, and reached back into my crotch grip-
ping my little penis gently between her fingers.  Her eyes grew even
wider in surprise as she did.  "I don't believe it," she said calmly.
"You even had me fooled.  It's no wonder the cops didn't catch on."

"Do you still want me working for you?," I asked picking up my dress,
and hanging it on the hook next to Helen's.  She gave me a sly smile,
and said, "Yes!  Yes I do.  I know a few clients who just might appre-
ciate your special talents.  We'll talk over lunch."  Helen helped me
into the top bunk, and gave my ass a playful squeeze in doing so.  "I
prefer women as lovers," she said, "but I might just make an exception
with you!"  Then she kissed me quickly on the lips, and slid into her
bunk.  I lay back to think.  Was I now to be a call-girl too?  It took
me only a minute to fall asleep.  It had been a long day.

                              = =  *  = =

The lights came on, and a loud bell jarred us all out of our fitful
sleep.  "Six o'clock, ladies!," shouted a voice on the public address
system.  "Rise and shine!  Breakfast starts in thirty minutes!"  I
stretched under the cover of a single, rough, woolen blanket.  It took
me a minute to remember where I was.  I looked around to see the others
dragging themselves out of the bunks.

I slid my legs over the edge of the bunk, and sat there for a minute to
adjust my bra.  For obvious reasons, I had not taken it off last night,
and it had twisted to let my falsies show a bit.  Luckily the others
could not see it under my full slip.  While I was doing it, I felt
dainty fingers run their nails gently up the back of the calf of my
right leg.  I looked down, and saw Helen getting out of the bunk below.

"Good morning," she said in a pleasant, but somewhat sleepy voice.  She
stood up, and stretched.  She wore only a pair of white lace panties.
Her body was smooth and tight with just enough of the hint of an all-
over tan to make her look healthy.  The best part of her for me, how-
ever, was her bust.  Helen's breasts were not huge, but they were big,
round, and full.  They were the sort of breasts that you see on the
girls in a "Playboy" centerfold.  They were the sort of breasts that
most men go wild over.  They were the sort of breasts that I wanted to
be able to wear proudly on my own chest.  I could not help but stare at
them.

Helen cocked her head to one side, and said, "Well, I like when people
look at my body, and appreciate it.  I can see that you like what you
are looking at."  I blushed, and said, "I like to show off my body too,
but for the reason that you found out about last night, I don't think I
want to do it here."  We giggled like schoolgirls at that.  "But that
gives me a problem," I said.  "I have to pee!"

There was a toilet in the cell, but it just sat out in the open against
the wall by the sink.  There was no privacy at all.  "Well," said
Helen, "if I stand at the sink to wash while you go, that should help a
little."  We tried it, and I managed to get my panties down under my
slip, and sit down before anyone noticed my little penis.  As the pres-
sure in my bladder was relieved, I lost the morning hardon that I had.
I would be so glad when the doctor removed that useless lump of flesh
for good, and I would never have that annoyance again.

I reached back between my legs to wipe away the last few drops with
some paper, and secretly return my little penis to its tuck.  "We all
seen cunts like your's before!," said a big black girl who stood naked
in front of me as I finished pulling up my panties.  "You don't gott'a
hide it in here.  Now get outt'a my way.  I gott'a take a wicked piss!"
She sat down, farted loudly, and relieved herself as I washed my hands,
and returned to the bunks with Helen.

I lifted the hem of my slip to put on my garter-belt, and sat on a bunk
to pull on my stockings.  Helen was doing the same.  "You have great
legs," she said.  "Thank you," I replied.  "I'm a dancer, or at least
trying to be.  It's a lot of work, but it keeps me in shape."  Helen
stood to put on her bra taking those wonderful breasts from my view.
"I really would like to have you working with me and my other girls,"
she said.  "I know quite a few men who would like to have you in bed.
Would you like to be a call-girl?"  Without hesitation, I said that I
would.  "Good," Helen answered.  "Wait for me after court, and I'll
give you my card.  Since this is your first offence, they'll let you go
with just a fine, and a lecture from the judge.  I have some things to
do today, but call me between six and eight tonight, and we'll set
something up where we can talk.  Help me zip my dress, and we'll have
some breakfast.  Here comes the matron." We adjusted each other's
dresses and hair, and then filed out of the cell with the others to go
to the mess hall.

I really did not feel like eating.  The little wave of elation that I
had started to feel from talking with Helen was soon lost in a sea of
depression as the depersonalization of the mess line drove a new real-
ization of where I was back into my mind.  I was in jail like our
society felt any common street whore should be.  The dregs of the vast
flesh and slime pits of New York City surrounded me.  Helen stood be-
hind me in line hovering protectively, but nothing she could do would
remove the depression I felt now.  I just knew I had lost Peter, some
of mt friends, and most of my self-respect.  I just knew that I would
be better off dead.

All I took was a cup of bad coffee, and the least burnt piece of toast
I could find.  Helen ushered me to one of the long tables, and shoved
the way for us to sit at the end of one of the benches with a few sharp
words and an elbow to a very butch woman who was apparently about to be
arraigned for shooting a liquor store clerk in an armed robbery.  She
let me sit on the end of the bench where the others could not bother me
physically.  "The food's lousy in The Tombs," she said.  "Rikers Island
has a better mess hall, but you wouldn't want to go there for the
cuisine."  I smiled at her little joke, but it did not cheer me up.

We ate mostly in silence.  I was just feeling too low to talk.  Then we
were all marched back to the cell to await the opening of court at ten
o'clock.  We spent that time in some idle chatter, but nothing of any
consequence happened.  All I could think of was court, and how I could
face Peter there.  He had said that he would be there with an attorney.
How could I possibly face the man I loved this way?  I cried a lot on
the inside while I waited.  At least we did not have to wait long.

"Okay, girls," said a very tall and mannish appearing policewoman, "its
time to get ready for the judge!"  She opened the cell door, and we all
filed out to join her and another female corrections officer.  They
took us back to the driveway where we had come in the night before, and
loaded us into another truck for the short trip over to the criminal
courts building.  "Don't worry about your purse," said Helen reassur-
ingly.  "It'll be at the property office at the courthouse when they
release you.  I don't know what order they'll call us, but if you're
before me, wait for me on the front steps, so I can give you my card.
If I get called first, I'll wait for you there."

It only took a few minutes to get to the courthouse, and soon we were
in an elevator on our way up.  We went down a couple of back corridors,
and were let into a long, narrow room with two rows of seats along its
length.  It was really a small room, or cell since two walls were all
bars, inside of the courtroom to the right of the judge's bench as you
faced it.  The door we had come through led only to the corridor, and
the back wall of the cell was just part of the courtroom wall.  The
front and other end of the cell were made of bars with plexiglass on
the outside, and a wooden panel fence along the bottom.  It looked like
a jury box that had been enclosed with bars.  There was also a bared
ceiling.  The plexiglass was to keep our noise out of the courtroom.

Our little group had increased in number, so there were ten or twelve
of us who sat in the box including two men.  It turned out that we were
all prostitution cases as part of some sort of special crackdown that
The City was having.  I guess Mayor Lindsey was making some political
points.  Prostitutes are always easy targets for that.  They do not
fight back against the police the way a mugger or armed felon might, so
the arrest rate goes up with less hassle.  It looks good from a polit-
ical standpoint, but does little to cure the social problems that are
the cause of prostitution in the first place.  Fixing that might cost
money, and that would not be good politically.

We settled into our seats, and nervously, my eyes scanned the court-
room searching for a familiar face.  I saw none, and now was as much
scared that Peter would not show up, and I would have to face the judge
alone, as I was that he would show up, and I would have to face him in
my shame.  I was about to give up looking when the courtroom door open-
ed, and I saw his boyishly handsome face appear.  He held the door for
a minute, and a middle-aged, balding man followed him in.  Peter was
talking to him, so I assumed this was the lawyer he had promised to
bring along.  The real shock of that day, however, was the person with
the lawyer.  It was Edith!  How and why had they brought her?

The lawyer took Edith to a seat near the front while Peter went to the
Bailiff's desk.  I could see him say a few words to the Bailiff, take
some papers from him, and return to where Edith and the lawyer sat.
The two men immediately engaged in some conversation over the papers,
but I saw Edith scanning our cell quite obviously looking for me.  I
was in the front row, so I leaned forward, and ventured a small wave.
An angry look from one of the policemen in the cell to watch us intim-
idated me back into the seat, but a return wave from Edith told me that
she had seen me.  She tapped Peter on the shoulder, and pointed in my
direction.  He glanced up for a second, and then went back to talking
with the lawyer.

It was strange, but I felt a little calmer now.  I had been scared, but
just knowing they were all here with me made me feel better.  I was
even glad that Edith was there.  She really was like having a mother.
Her wave had born nothing but a genuine caring.  There was no criticism
in it.  She smiled warmly at me.  Even if I had lost Peter, I could
console myself in the knowledge that someone cared.  It was not the
same sort of caring as I had hoped for with Peter, but it was some-
thing.

"All rise!," came the call of the Bailiff as a door swung open, and the
Judge entered the courtroom.  "Hear ye!  Hear ye!  Municipal Court in
the city of New York is now in session!  The honorable Judge Walter
Kincaid presiding!"  The Judge mounted his bench, shuffled a few pap-
ers, and told the Bailiff to call the first case.  I just sat, and
watched as the first two prostitutes had their time before the Judge.
Both were represented by the Public Defender, given a one-hundred dol-
lar fine, and released.  Helen smiled knowingly at me, and whispered,
"See?  I told you it wouldn't be too bad."

Helen was next to be called, and she walked out of the cell in a very
regal manner.  A quite distinguished looking man came out of the vis-
itor's gallery, and identified himself as her attorney.  He immediat-
ely asked to approach the bench with the Prosecutor, and handed the
Judge some papers.  The Judge looked over the papers, exchanged a few
words with the attorney and Prosecutor, and rang down his gavel announ-
cing another one-hundred dollar fine.  Helen smiled back at me as she
left the Court with her lawyer.  She had it all together.

Then I heard my name being called, and I went out into the courtroom.
The man who had been with Peter came forward, and identified himself as
my lawyer, adding, "We wish to enter a plea of guilty noting that this
is the Defendant's first offence of any sort, and knowing that the
Court will take this into consideration.  The Defendant's mother is
here, and will take matters in charge after the Court has passed sen-
tence."  The Prosecutor indicated that he had nothing to add, and the
Judge seemed to snicker that my mother would take charge of things.

"Young woman," said the Judge, "this is not a matter that should be
taken lightly, but I am inclined to be lenient this morning.  Prostitu-
tion is not something that one does for a simple thrill.  It is a cri-
me, and should be treated as such.  The law prescribes a one-hundred
dollar fine, and so shall be your sentence, but I will suspend sentence
to release you into the custody of your mother who I am sure will im-
pose a tougher penalty on you than I ever could.  I don't want to see
you in here again!"  He then rang down his gavel, and called for the
next case.  I was free!

My lawyer and I joined the others, and we left the courtroom.  Outside
in the hall, Peter said, "Thanks, Uncle Lenny," then turned to me, and
added, "Bobbi, allow me to introduce my uncle who is a partner in the
law firm I work for.  I thanked "Uncle Lenny" too, and then Peter said
he wanted a private word with me.

Stepping aside from the others, he said, "If you needed something, even
money, you should have asked me!  I care very much about you, and I
thought we might even work something out, but now I just don't know.  I
have to think about things.  I may call you, but I have some thinking
to do first.  I didn't want it to be this way, and I still don't.  I
just don't know what to think now.  Maybe I'm crazy, but I thought you
were different from the rest.  I will call you, but I need time to
think.  My uncle and I have another appointment now.  Don't worry about
his fee.  It's on the house this time.  Here's your release papers and
property receipt.  Take them to the property office on the third floor,
and they'll give you your things.  I'll call you in a week or so."
Then he kissed me quickly on the cheek, and left with his uncle.  I had
a tear in my eye as he walked away.

"He'll be back," said Edith touching me gently on the arm.  "I don't
know, mom," I said almost without realizing I had called her that.  "I
think it's over for good, and it really never got started."  Edith gave
me a motherly smile, and said, "Mothers have ways of knowing about such
things.  Look, I don't know why you did what you did, but I'm still
with you.  Right now, let's get out of here.  We'll talk over lunch and
some tea.  My treat.  Okay?"

I agreed easily.  There was nothing else I wanted to do just then but
get out of the courthouse.  We went to the Property Office on the third
floor, and I retrieved my purse.  Then there was a quick, but vitally
important, stop in the Ladies Room to fix my hair, refresh my make-up,
and adjust things so I was pretty enough to face the street again.  "I
sure could use a shower before we have lunch," I told Edith.  "Maybe we
could stop by my place on the way?"  "I guess we could," Edith said.
"I took the whole day off, and I've never seen your apartment.  A moth-
er should see how her daughter lives."

It was a little chilly and overcast as we stepped out into the outside
world.  A lone figure waited for me on the courthouse steps.  "I'll
just be a minute, mom," I said to Edith as I walked over to Helen who
was leaning against a handrail and smoking a cigarette.

She had that look of lust in her eye again as she watched me approach.
"I told you it wouldn't be bad," she said.  "He gave you the standard
fine, right?"  "Yes," I said, "but suspended for first offence."  Helen
looked a bit surprised.  "That's even better," she said.  "Now let's
get you into a better line of work.  Here's my card.  Call me tonight,
and we'll set up a time to talk more about this.  It's time you made
some real money!"  Then she departed.

"Who was that?," Edith asked when I got back to her.  "Oh," I replied,
"just a friend I met last night.  I might see her later this week for
lunch."  Edith looked at me with a mother's worry on her face.  "You
just be careful now," she said.  "I will, mom," I answered.  We hailed
a cab, and headed uptown to my apartment.

Margo was still asleep when we got there, as usual.  I ushered Edith
into the living room, and went to make us some coffee.  While the cof-
fee was perking, I gave Edith the obligatory tour of the apartment, and
she made all of the obligatory comments and compliments about it.  "How
much of this is actually your's, and not Margo's?," Edith asked as we
sat down to coffee in the living room after the tour.  "Not much," I
replied.  "Just my clothes, my bed, the dresser, and the nightstand,
lamp, and clock radio in the bedroom.  Margo owns, rents, borrows, or
steals the rest."  Edith giggled, and whispered, "Good.  I was sure you
had better taste than this!"  I was glad that she had whispered it, for
when I looked up, Margo was standing in the doorway.

"Having company early today, aren't we?," she said in a tone that was
more gracious than I might have expected from her this soon after get-
ting up.  "You must be Edith," she continued.  "Bobbi has told me just
so much about you.  It's a pleasure to meet you at last."  Something
was up.  The only people Margo was this nice to were tricks with a
taste for booze, and hundred dollar bills bulging their pockets.  Edith
greeted Margo pleasantly, and then Margo said, "I'd really love some
coffee.  Bobbi, if you'll join me in the kitchen, we can get more for
everyone."  It was obvious that she wanted to talk privately, so I fol-
lowed her into the kitchen.

"Where were you all night?," Margo asked as soon as we were inside.
"In The Tombs," I said.  "I got arrested for prostitution."  Margo lo-
oked a little surprised, and said, "Oh.  Are you all right?"  She
genuinely was concerned about me.  "Yes," I said.  "I'm a little shaky,
and I need a shower, but I'm all right.  What's up?  You want to talk,
right?"

Margo poured some coffee, and lit a cigarette.  "Carol and I had a long
talk last night," she began.  "Just let me say this all the way through
before you say anything, Okay?  It's not going to be easy to say, or
for you to understand.  I know you don't like Carol anyway.  Will you
just listen?"  I said I would.  I knew, however, that it would not be
good if Carol was involved.

Margo took a deep drag on her cigarette, and said, "You know full well
that Carol and I are lovers.  You also know that Carol is into bondage
as a drag Dominatrix.  Well, last night I consented to be her permanent
slave.  She has to move from where she is living, so she is going to
live here.  She ordered me to tell you to move out."

Margo was not having an easy time in saying this, and had to light an-
other cigarette to keep going.  "I didn't want to," she continued, "but
she whipped me until I agreed.  I have to do what my Mistress orders me
to do.  She wants to use your room for a torture chamber.  She wanted
to give you two weeks to find another place, but I talked her into
thirty days.  This isn't an easy thing for me to do, but I have to.
Please try to understand."

I was shocked, and Margo was actually crying.  I had never seen her cry
before.  I tried to comfort her with a hug, and said with tears in my
own eyes too, "That's all right.  I do understand.  We had some good
times, and I hope we'll still be friends.  I'll be all right."  Inside,
I was angry and frustrated!  Being arrested, and loosing Peter was bad
enough.  Now what would I do?

We had just gotten back to the living room when the doorbell rang.  It
was a messenger with a telegram for me.  I opened it, and got another
shock.  It was from the department store terminating my employment!
Somehow they had found out that I had been arrested, and said that the
store's image would be damaged if they continued to employ me.  "How
did they know?!," I exclaimed.  I knew that the store was not overly
pleased with having me working there since I had started dressing for
work in an effeminate manner.  I guess that they were ready to use any
pretext at all to get rid of me.  The only thing that had kept me there
was Paul, and he did not work there anymore.

"I'm afraid," Margo said through her tears, "that it might have been
me.  They called while I was asleep, and I said you had probably been
busted.  It was a joke, but they probably took it seriously, and chec-
ked your social security number on your wrap sheet with the cops.  They
do that sometimes."

I felt like my life was over.  I had just lost Peter, my apartment, my
job, my good name, and most of my self-respect all in the last twenty-
four hours.  If I were ever to consider suicide, it was then, and the
thought seriously ran through my mind.  I just sat on the sofa, and
cried.  Edith and Margo tried to console me, but there was nothing left
to do but cry.  I really wished I was dead!

"I think you should have that shower now," Edith said after many emo-
tional minutes.  "Then we'll have lunch, and try to sort things out.  I
told you that I was with you all the way, and I'm here for you now.
Mother will do what she can."  That calmed me down a little bit, but
not very much.  I went to my bedroom, stripped to the skin, and went to
the shower.  I eyed the medicine cabinet, and thought about just how
many pills I could get down to solve all my problems, but that was not
the way.  Maybe Edith could help.  I decided to at least hear what she
had to say.  I could always kill myself later.

I dressed in a rather plain blue dress, and rejoined them in the living
room.  Edith and Margo were talking quietly, but stopped when I enter-
ed.  "Ready?," asked Edith.  "Ready," I replied, and we left for lunch.
I was in a daze.  I did not know what I would do.

The Times Square area is known for big theaters and restaurants with
lots of flash and noise, and some of the more interesting night spots
in The City.  Those were hardly the sort of place that I needed to be
in now.  There are also a great number of bars catering to almost every
taste, pleasure, and perversion known to humankind.  As much as I would
have liked to have just retreated into an alcoholic haze like Margo
did, that was not the way either.  There are, however, nestled in the
side streets, a very few small cafes where you can get tea served in a
real ceramic teapot, and listen to at least a recording of a string
quartet in the background.  It was at a booth in one of these that I
soon found myself.

Edith ordered a pot of tea for us, and watched me as I tried to drain
off enough emotion to allow me to speak without starting to cry again.
After a few minutes, she took a sip of tea, and asked, "What actually
happened last evening?  Your Peter called me last night at home.  I
think Margo gave him my number from your address book.  All he said was
that you had been arrested, and would probably need someone to be with
this morning when you were released.  I didn't know the charge until I
got to the courthouse."  I pulled myself together, and said, "It was
just supposed to be a joke, mom.  I just wanted to see what the guy
would do.  I didn't know..."

"Wait a minute, Bobbi," Edith interrupted me with a look of both hurt
and anger crossing her face, "that story might have worked on the
Judge, but I think I am entitled to a little better than that!"  I was
surprised.  Edith had never gotten angry with me before, but here she
was in a rage.  I did not know what to say, but she certainly did.

"I told you I was going to treat you as my daughter," Edith continued,
"and that is just what I am going to do!  You call me 'mom' now, but
you still see fit to lie to me like any stranger on the street.  Maybe
I don't have any right to talk to you like this, but maybe your calling
me 'mom' gives me that right.  If you don't like what I have to say,
you can walk out of here, and I'll just wish you luck with the rest of
your life, but you're going to listen to what I have to say right now
first!  My taking off work, and coming to the courthouse for you earned
me at least that much even if this 'mom' stuff is just another game to
you!  I'm tired of playing games.  I've lived enough of life to know
where the games end and reality begins, and it's time you learned about
that too!"

I did not dare to even breathe.  I was fixed in my seat by her words
like a small child being chastised by her parent.  I had only seen one
side of Edith up to that day.  It had been fun to have a "mother" as a
special friend to shop and have lunch with, but I was learning that
there were two sides to mothering.  If I wanted to enjoy having one, I
also had to grant her the right to the other.  All I could do was lis-
ten.

"Do you want to know what reality is?," Edith asked.  "Reality isn't
what your next party dress will look like, or if you're going to be
able to afford dance class anymore.  Reality is the cold in your bones,
and the hunger in your belly.  Reality is doing things that you loathe
just to stay alive!  Reality is giving up some of your soul to keep
your body going!!  You think that prostitution is a game?  Prostitution
is a way to survive when you are new in a country, and nobody will give
you a real job so you can eat!  Don't ever think that I don't know what
prostitution is.  It was a way for me to survive until..."

Edith's voice trailed off, lost in the emotion.  There was even a tear
in her eye.  She took a drink of tea, and said, "I told you that I
wanted to help.  Even if you don't take the 'mom' part seriously, I
take the 'daughter' part very seriously!  I know that you aren't making
much money at the store.  I also know that the things you're doing, and
the things that you want to do, cost more than you probably have now.
I can't pay for them, but I am willing to help in any way I can.  All
you had to do was ask me.  That's what having a 'mother' is about, or
had you forgotten that?"

I felt just like her child.  I wanted to crawl under the table, and
whimper.  I had never before felt this kind of emotion from anyone.  I
had not gotten it from my natural parents.  They were always too wrap-
ped up in other things to care this way.  I waited to see what was
next.

"Are you supporting yourself as a prostitute?," Edith asked straight
out.  "Don't give me any song and dance.  I've seen how you live now,
and some of the company you keep.  I also had a long talk with Margo
while you were changing.  She's not good for you to be living with.
You say that you want to be a real woman.  Do you think that you're
going to make it around all those parodies of women that you hang out
with?  If you really want to do any of the things that you say you do,
I'll help.  Just don't patronize me with any cheap lies.  What kind of
life do you lead?  I want the truth for a change!"

I gave her the truth; all of the truth!  It just poured out of me.  I
could not stop it.  I told Edith about my childhood, how I had first
dressed in my mother's clothes, about Kenny the high school jock, how I
had met Margo, about the first time in drag in public, how I had sold
my "virginity" as a drag queen to Frank, about Tina, Toni, Carol, Uncle
Charlie, Patty, Wendy, Tom, Dr. Benjamin, about every part of my life I
could think of, and still it kept coming!

I told her how I had figured that turning five tricks a week would give
me enough extra income to pay my doctor and dance class bills.  I told
her about the pornographic pictures that I had posed for.  Every detail
of my life came spilling out.  I had lost so much that day that I could
not stand losing Edith too.  I could have just walked out as she sug-
gested, but all I would have done was step in front of a subway train.
If this was what it took to save the last good thing in my life, then I
had to do it!

I do not know how long I sat there just flushing my soul to Edith.  It
was long enough for her to order another pot of tea and two club sand-
wiches for us.  When I finished talking, I was too drained emotionally
to even cry anymore.  I just sat back in silence, and waited for Edith
to make the next move.  I did not feel much like eating.

"I guess you're not walking out on me then?," asked Edith taking a bite
of her sandwich.  Something snapped inside me then, and I said, "No...
mom!," and collapsed on the table, sobbing quietly.  Edith put her hand
on my shoulder, and asked, "Now are you going to listen to your mother,
and let her help?"  "Yes, mom," I said through my tears.  "Good," Edith
said.  "Now sit up, dry your eyes, blow your nose, and do as I say."  I
did as I was told.  There was no question of my acceptance of Edith as
my mother any longer.  The last knot in that emotional bond had been
tied.

"Eat your sandwich," Edith said.  "I don't want a malnourished daughter
on my hands."  I took a bite, and listened.  "We'll take one thing at a
time," she began.  "You need a place to live, and I've got a spare ro-
om.  You're coming home with me today.  I won't have any daughter of
mine living in that apartment another night.  When we're done here, we
are going back there to pack your clothes.  You can sleep on my couch
until I get a mover to get your bed and dresser later in the week.  I
won't take any argument on this.  I already told Margo, so you don't
have a choice.  Mother knows best this time.  All right?"  All I could
do was say, "Yes, mom," and eat my sandwich.

"Take the rest of this week off, and stay at home," Edith continued.
"Then you can look for a new job next week.  Wear a dress when you do.
If you really want to be a woman, then act like one!  Women don't work
as Gay stockboys!  Just remember that this week off is my little gift
to you.  You are going to find a job next week, or I'll find one for
you.  Is that clear?"  "Yes, mom," I answered.

"I'll tell you one thing, though," Edith said in a low voice, and lean-
ing toward me, "if you want to be a common street whore, then don't
come home.  As low as I might have gotten, I never did that.  There are
better ways of doing it, but don't even consider them either until the
gnawing in your gut from hunger gets so hard you can't stand it!  That
trap is all too easy to fall into.  It might seem pretty on the out-
side, but it just drags you down.  Do you understand?"  "Yes, mom," I
said.

"The last thing is about my mother," Edith said softly.  "Her name is
Sarah, and she lives with me too.  She is very old now, and doesn't
always see or remember things clearly.  If you just call her 'grand-
mother', she won't know the difference.  I've told her a little about
you already, and she has asked when she is going to see her granddaugh-
ter again.  I don't think she remembers what happened.  Reality seems
to have become less important for her than it once was.  Treat her
well!  She is very precious to me.  Can you do that?"  "Yes, mom.  I
can," I said.

I had stopped crying by now, and was sitting up in my chair with a lit-
tle pout on my face.  At first I had been terrified of Edith's chasti-
sing of me this way, that soon turned to hurt, but suddenly I was get-
ting some very good feelings from it.  My life had needed a push, and
all that had happened in the last twenty-four hours gave me all that
was needed.

I had not lost everything.  The only things I had lost were things that
I had to get rid of to go on.  Edith's lecture had made me realize
that.  I would live with her for a while.  I still had a lot to learn
from my mother, and I was eager for her to teach me.  I would work as
hard as I could to win Peter back.  He had said that he would call, so
I might still have a chance.  I had come another step along the way to
my goal.

"Sit up straight, and don't slouch!," Edith snapped at me.  I jumped to
attention in my seat, and she giggled.  "I always wanted to tell that
to someone," she said.  "Mothers are supposed to do that, you know."  I
looked at her with a pained expression on my face, and then I started
to giggle too.  She was just what I needed then.  I had started to set-
tle into that complacent existence that is the undoing of many, and not
just drag queens and transexuals.

It is easy to dream.  Then we begin to see just how difficult the at-
tainment of any dream in reality is, and the achievement of a little of
the dream becomes enough to satisfy us.  We tell ourselves all sorts of
stories, and find all sorts of reasons why we should stop somewhere
short of what should have been our real goal.  We never get to fulfill
our dreams.  Then we wonder why we feel so miserable and frustrated
with our lives.  When will we ever learn?

Edith was not going to let me do that.  There was a lot more to this
lady than I had imagined.  I had always seen her as just the sweet,
later middle-aged woman that was pleasant to have lunch with.  The
mother thing was a nice diversion that felt good, but that I had never
taken seriously in quite this way.  That was all just the surface of
Edith.  Beneath that facade lay more strength than one would at first
have imagined.  There had been enough already to get she and her mother
out of Estonia in 1939 before the Soviet annexation, establish herself
in Norway, flee Norway ahead of the Nazi occupation, begin a life in
England, fall in love, bear a child out of wedlock, face the loss of
her lover to the War, suffer the death of her infant daughter, move
again to the United States, and set up a life for her and her mother
all over again.  If I wanted her help with my own goals, she would not
accept a lesser commitment or effort from me!

I did have a dream that I very much wanted to see come true.  It was a
modest dream, and not unlike the dream many people have.  The dream was
to be able to live a simple, un-complex, and uncomplicated life.  I did
not want to change the world, be famous, or even all that rich.  I just
wanted to lead a comfortable life as the woman that I was intellectual-
ly, emotionally, and spiritually.  The only think that really compli-
cated that was the fact that I was biologically a male.  I had, how-
ever, found a way to change that surgically.  Edith was now offering me
a way to change my entire life situation, and begin the journey down
the road that I needed to follow if I wished to make that dream come
true.  What she was not offering was a safe haven in which to stagnate,
or an easy means of turning back when the going got difficult.  She
would move forward with me, but if I stopped or took another direction,
I would be alone.

I thought about this for a long time.  She was being tough with me, but
that was what I needed then.  My life had just been given the shove it
needed out of the imaginary world of the drag queen.  It was time to
face up to the reality of what I wanted out of my life.  I had to learn
a lot of things to get where I wanted and needed to be.  What better
place for a girl to learn these things than at mother's knee!

"I can really come and live with you?," I asked in a hesitant way, not
yet believing that it was quite true.  "That's what I said," replied
Edith.  "I'd like to have my daughter with me for a while.  My mother
will not mind either.  Just treat her gently, and call her grandmother
when you speak.  She will accept you as her granddaughter, and think
you are the daughter I lost a long time ago.  In a very real way, that
is what you are to me, so we will not be hurting her by saying so.  All
of this will just make three women very happy to be a family again at
last."  I looked questioningly at Edith, saying, "Three women?," trying
to understand what she meant.  "Yes," she answered, "my mother, myself,
and you.  Welcome to being a woman all the time for the rest of your
life!"

A tiny tear of joy welled up in my eye.  The way to my dream had found
me at last in every way.  "Okay, mom," I said composing myself.  "Let's
go!"  Edith paid the check, and we went back outside to go to the
apartment to pack my things.  The sun was shining, and the first nip of
autumn was in the air.  After all the depression, I actually felt alive
again.  Things seemed to be working out after all.

Margo was not at home when Edith and I got back to the apartment.  She
left a note saying that she would be back soon.  "Humph!," I said when
I read it.  "She probably wanted to get out of any work in helping us
pack."  Edith retorted with, "Now, Bobbi, she doesn't seem all that bad
from the talk I had with her.  Why do you say things like that?  Even
if it's true, you only demean yourself by saying it.  A lady doesn't do
that."  Edith was, of course, correct, but Margo was like that.  I
still think of her as a friend, but she does not do things unless they
directly benefit herself.  I let the matter pass.

I had three large suitcases that I dug out, and we packed my dresses
into these.  We had passed by the grocery store on the way to the apar-
tment, and picked up some large cardboard boxes.  The rest of my things
went into the boxes.  It was a tight fit, but after a little more than
an hour, we were all but done.  That was the perfect cue for Margo to
return, and right on schedule, she did, but she was not alone.  Carol
was with her.

"Well," said Margo as she came in, and surveyed the now mostly empty
room, "is there anything left that I can help with?"  Carol just looked
at me with an evil leer.  I wanted to scratch her eyes out.  "No, Mar-
go," I said half sarcastically, "we're just about done packing, but you
could help us carry these boxes down to the street."  Carol put up her
hand, saying, "We've already got that covered.  We got the spic kid
from the basement coming up with a hand truck to do that."

I should have expected something like that.  The young man they were
talking about was the superintendent's son, and he had a "thing" for
Margo.  It was probably worth a quick blow-job from Margo to him for
doing the work.  She got a number of things from him that way.  "That's
good, Carol," I said, and finished my packing.

It did not take much longer to get everything packed, and Margo went
downstairs to get the helper Carol spoke of.  The rest of us sat in the
living room to wait.  "When are you gonna get your furniture outt'a
here?," Carol asked a little gruffly.  She was not trying to be nasty,
but her constant commanding way of speaking always rubbed me the wrong
way.  If I had answered, I probably would have said something I would
have regretted later, but Edith stepped in to field the question, say-
ing, "I'm going to call a moving man I know later this afternoon.  He
should be able to get it in a day or so.  We'll call you tonight, and
let you know, but it will be before the end of the week."  Carol lit a
cigarette, and replied, "Good.  I wouldn't want Margo to have to charge
Bobbi for storage."  She added a bit of a laugh at the end of that to
soften it, but I knew what she meant.  Carol could be a real bitch when
she wanted to.  I did not like her at all.

The icy mood in the room was broken when Margo returned with her hel-
per.  He was Spanish, about six feet tall, and had a stringy moustache.
He was also built!  The muscles rippled under his t-shirt, and he sur-
veyed all of us with a look that had only one motivation behind it.
Margo's blouse had a small smudge on the front that told me he had al-
ready copped at least a feel of her tits on the way up in the elevator.
I would not have minded some of that treatment from him myself.  He was
not overly handsome, but the sight of all those muscles made my little
penis twitch in its tuck.  Margo kept this stud all to herself, though.

"Let's go," Carol ordered, and the boy set about loading up the hand
truck he had brought with him.  He would have to make two trips, so
Edith and Carol went down with the first load to watch things on the
street.  That left Margo and I alone in the apartment for the last
time.

"We've had a lot of good times here," Margo said when the others had
departed.  "I'm going to miss you in some ways."  There was even the
hint of a tear in her eye as she spoke, and we hugged in good-bye.  "I
am going to miss you in a lot of ways," I said.  We sat in silence for
a while until the boy returned for the last load.  Then she kissed me
on the cheek, and we went down to the street.

Edith had already hailed a cab, and the driver was putting boxes in the
trunk and front seat.  The rest were soon loaded too, and Edith and I
got into the taxi for the ride to Queens.  I watched Margo, Carol, and
the building grow small and disappear as we drove away.  My new life
was really beginning now.  All of what went before was gone.

After a time, I turned to face the front of the cab, and glanced over
at Edith.  We were at opposite ends of the back seat with boxes on the
floor in front of us, and another on the seat between us.  It was lucky
that we got a Checker cab, and not one from another manufacturer.  Che-
ckers have a lot more room.  Edith just smiled at me.  We did not need
to speak.  I am sure she knew something of what I was feeling at that
moment as my life changed, and I was stealing away with my belongings
rather unceremoniously packed into some rude boxes like a refugee fle-
eing the invading horde.  She had done this same sort of thing a few
times in her own life.

The taxi made its way east over the Queensboro Bridge, and then turned
north toward the Astoria section of the Boro of Queens where Edith
lived.  The streets out here were very different from the ones in Man-
hattan.  It was no small town sort of setting, but it was not the hus-
tle and hubbub of the midtown area.  There were even private homes
here.  It did not take vary long at all to reach our destination, and
soon we stopped in front of a large, modern apartment building.  It was
very new, and looked like the type of place that would be beyond Edi-
h's means as a clerical at the department store.  All of the apartments
had terraces, and there was even a uniformed doorman.  "Well," said
Edith as I sat in the cab trying to work this new puzzle out, "are you
coming in with me?"

I got out of the taxi, and Edith set about arranging things.  She had
the driver deposit the boxes at the curb giving him an extra five dol-
lars on his tip for doing it.  "Thomas," Edith said turning to the
doorman, "please have these boxes brought up to my apartment as soon as
possible.  Oh, and I would like to introduce you to Bobbi.  She'll be
staying with me from now on.  Bobbi is my daughter."

Thomas looked a little surprised at Edith's introduction of me as her
daughter, but he just nodded, and held the door for us as we entered.
The lobby was all done in white marble with black accents, and my heels
clicked deliciously on the hard floor as we went to the elevator.
Edith pushed the button for the twenty-forth floor, and soon we were at
her apartment door.  Her key clicked in the lock, and she called out,
"Mom!  I'm home!," as we went in.

Inside in a large, comfy chair, sat a very ancient lady.  She did not
get up, and looked much too frail to do that anyway.  Her eyes were
deep set in her face from the long years she had seen.  Her hair glis-
tened in white and sliver where gold once shined.  Her delicate body
appeared weak and fragile now, but deep in her countenance a strength
as powerful as Edith's still hinted.  "Bobbi," Edith said softly, "this
is Sarah, your grandmother.  Mom, this is Bobbi.  She's come home to
us!"

The older woman looked at me in a way that did not stop at the surface,
but reached deep inside of me.  She would accept me for what Edith said
I was, but it was as if she still knew the truth in her heart.  It was,
however, all right with her that way.  The arrangement seemed to suit
all three of us for whatever diverse reasons we each had.  It would
work out very well for all of us.  "Welcome back," was all Sarah said
in a voice heavy laden with the accent of her Estonian origin.  The
smile she added after the words, and the hug she gave me said all else.
"Thank you, grandmother," I said.  "It's good to be back!"

Edith showed me down a short hallway with four doors in it.  "First on
the right is the bathroom," she said.  "First on the left is your room.
Mine is the last on the left, and your grandmother's is the other one.
I'll give you the whole tour later."  She opened the door to what was
to be my room.  It was larger than I had with Margo, and inside was a
sofa with two end tables and lamps.  "There's enough room for your bed
and dresser even with the sofa," Edith said.  "You can sleep on it
until your bed gets here.  When the super brings the boxes up, have him
put them in here, and give him five dollars for his trouble.  I'm going
to make a phone call."

Edith phoned the moving company while the superintendent delivered my
things.  When he left, she said, "They can get your furniture tomorrow
at one o'clock.  Call Margo, and tell her.  You don't have to go with
them, but you'll need to be here to pay them when they bring the fur-
niture.  Call Margo now.  I have to get dinner for us."  "Yes, mom," I
answered.

I called Margo, but I also called Helen.  Margo was very happy that my
things were leaving so quickly.  "Carol will be pleased," she said.
The call to Helen was a fast one because I wanted it to be, and she did
not have time to talk anyway.  We made an appointment for lunch on
Thursday.  I was hanging up the telephone when Edith called us all to
dinner.  The three of us around the table even felt like a family.  I
had come home at last!


Sub-title: All the World is a Stage

A New Yorker's life seems to be permanently tied to the taxicab.  With
taxis, The City is a horror of pollution, gridlock, and noise.  Without
taxis, life of The City would cease.  New Yorkers are born in cabs, die
in cabs, do business in cabs, make love in cabs, worry in cabs, sleep
in cabs, laugh in cabs, cry in cabs, and go to all the places that New
Yorkers go in cabs.  New Yorkers complain about cabs, but New Yorkers
complain about everything.  Whatever may be said about taxis in New
York City, without them The City would cease to function.  In midtown
Manhattan you just walk out to the curb, raise your arm, and cabs will
stop to pick you up.  Out in Queens you telephone the cab company, and
they send one for you.  So it was that I called a taxi that Thursday
morning to go into Manhattan to keep my luncheon appointment with
Helen.  I was about to become a call-girl.

My first night in Edith's apartment had been generally quiet.  The
three of us had chatted about many things over dinner.  Sarah might
have had a weak and frail appearance, but her mind was still active.
She might occasionally forget small things, but she was nowhere near
senility at all.  She wanted to know all about me, and where I had been
all these years.  Edith told her that I had been living with an Amer-
ican family, and concocted a story about how she had sent me to America
as a baby after her R.A.F. lover had been killed in the war.  She re-
minded Sarah about how difficult things had been for them in England,
and how they had talked of going to America.

Edith said that she had been able to send me to an orphanage in New
York.  I said very little, and just nodded along with the story.  Sarah
took it all in like an actress learning a script.  She did not buy it,
but would play her part as grandmother as Edith was writing it.  It
would harm no one to do so.

Edith offered me a glass of sherry after dinner, and Sarah had one too.
"It's a habit we picked up in England," she said.  Sarah settled down
to watch television, and Edith asked me, "Shall I give you the grand
tour now?"  It was as good a time as any, so I said, "Sure," and fol-
lowed along after her carrying my drink as she did.

The apartment was large and nicely decorated with each room having its
own sort of special character.  The front door opened into a tiny foyer
with a coat closet.  This led into the large living room with its ter-
race looking to the northwest, and a distant view of the extreme west-
ern reaches of Long Island Sound.  Beyond the living room was a large
offset that was almost a room by itself.  This was the formal dining
area leading into a large, modern kitchen with a small breakfast nook
affording much the same view as the terrace.

Along the left wall of the living room as you entered from the front
door was the hallway with its four doors.  The bathroom had a separate
bathtub and shower stall.  My room was, so far, rather plain, but I
would change that soon.  Sarah's room was very old world Victorian.
Edith's room was very modern, but its most striking feature was a life
size oil painting of a blonde woman, standing in a very provocative
pose, and totally nude.  The features of the face were so lifelike that
I started to ask just as Edith stopped me, saying, "Before you have to
ask, it is me.  It was painted a long time ago, and there's a story to
go with it.  I'll tell you over some wine... someday."  Edith looked
strangely at the portrait, but I did not press the question.  She would
tell me when she was ready.

That night on the couch in my room was all right, but I felt better the
next day when my bed and dresser arrived.  Edith had gone to work, and
that had left me alone with Sarah for the day.  We talked and watched
television, and somewhere during the day she said, "Wherever you have
been is all right with me.  My daughter has been hurt a lot in her
life, and finding you has made her again happy.  That is all that mat-
ters to me."  She knew the truth, but if acting her role in this made
Edith happy, then she would play it to the hilt.  There was something
about this lady that I liked quite a lot.  I enjoyed having her for a
grandmother.

The cab picked me up in front of the apartment building, and Thomas,
the doorman, held the door for me as I got in.  I know he gave my legs
a good look too, but that was all right with me.  I did not mind men
doing that.  The taxi headed for Manhattan, and my lunch with Helen.  I
was about to get still another role to play in this life.

The day was sunny, and I watched intently as the Manhattan skyline grew
bigger as we approached.  I wore a dark green jersey dress that did not
conceal any feature of my body except for the one that was safely tuc-
ked away in my panties, back between my legs.  I was wearing my best
jewelry, and had talked Edith into lending me her rabbit fur stole for
the occasion.  I told her I was going to a job interview.  I did not
lie.  I just did not tell her the sort of job it was.  I needed the
stole to ward off the chill in the mid-September air.  I wanted to look
my best that day.  A girl like me did not get invited to lunch at the
St. Regis Hotel every day.

The cab drew up in front of the hotel, and I paid the driver.  I got
quite a look from a very prosperous looking gentleman who was lighting
a cigar as I swung my legs out of the taxi, and into his gaze.  The
look followed me from the cab until I had gone into the hotel.  Now
other eyes picked me up as I crossed the thick carpets in the lobby.
All of the men who watched me wore business suits, and looked as pros-
perous as the man outside had.  This might have been the era of the
hippie, but I liked the prosperity scene a lot better.  Some girls
might have enjoyed sitting in a room full of candles with a long haired
guy with dirty fingernails, but I much preferred a candle lit dinner
for two in an elegant restaurant with a well groomed man in a three-
piece suit.  The ambiance of the St. Regis Hotel suited me well.

I was about five minutes late from the approximate time we had set.  I
gave Helen's name to the head waiter, and was escorted to a table.
Helen was already there going over her appointment book.  She greeted
me, and we ordered a couple of glasses of white wine before lunch.  The
table was actually a secluded booth to one side of the restaurant away
from the windows.  It did, however, afford us a good view of all that
was going on, and all who were in the place.  Helen had obviously been
here many times before.  She even spoke to the head waiter by name, and
he answered with her's.

"I'm glad you could make it today," said Helen with a smile once we
were alone.  "I've spoken to a few of my clients who I thought might be
interested in what you have to offer, and there are a couple who would
like to meet you.  Are you still interested in working with me like we
discussed?"  "That all depends," I answered, "on what I would have to
do.  We talked about a lot of things, but I would like to know more.
Who are these clients?  Do they call me at home?  Do they visit me at
home?  I'm very interested, but I just don't know much about this."

The waiter brought our wine, and Helen ordered a salad platter.  I did
the same, and he went away again.  Helen sipped her wine, and said, "I
guess we didn't get too much chance to go into detail in the cell.  All
right.  First, as far as anyone is concerned, I run a modeling and es-
cort service called Models-In-Minutes that you work for.  That way we
all have a legitimate way of paying income tax, and nobody hassles you
that way.  I list your fees for assignments at the basic rate.  I don't
do withholding, but you can pay tax on the amount of the fee an the
schedule, and pocket the difference in cash.  The real rate you charge
is one-hundred a night or twenty-five an hour.  I get ten percent of
that, and you keep the rest.  You keep any tip you get too.  No pun
intended."

We laughed, and Helen continued, "No client ever calls you at home, or
visits you there.  You go to them either at their home, or at a hotel
at their expense.  Their only contact with you is through me.  You call
in once a day to get your assignments.  You give me a week's notice if
you have something to do on a given day, and I won't book anything for
you.  If you have to give shorter notice, we'll discuss it, but I'm not
an ogre.  We just try to respect each other.  I won't do anything to
screw you, and if you screw me, you are just off the list.  This can be
a good deal if you don't mess it up."

Helen sipped some wine, and said, "Your clients are basically business-
men looking for a little companionship.  Most are out of towners who
come to New York on business, and don't want to spend all the time
alone, but a few live here.  You may also be a salesman's entertainment
for a customer.  You tell me the limits of what you'll do first, and
I'll match that to the client's needs.  You do whatever the client
wants to do in the time limit he's paying for.  Some may want to get
you in bed right away, but some will want you to go to dinner or
dancing with them first.  There are a few who only want that with no
sex involved at all.  What do you think?  Are you still with me?"  I
nodded agreement as the waiter brought our salads.  I was almost a
call-girl.

Lunch was spiced with just some small talk about things in general.
Helen was very interested in me in a lot of ways that did not seem to
relate to my working for her.  She had a genuine concern for what was
going on in my personal life as well.  "I like to get to know my
girls," she said.  "It helps me manage things better, and fit the as-
signments to their personality.  Besides, I like you as a friend.  I
don't see myself as a boss.  I guess some might call me a Madam, and I
don't mind that title if it's used correctly.  I just like to look
after my girl's welfare.  You and the others are the assets of this
little business, and I want to protect that, but I also care about you
all as people too."

Helen was kind and sincere.  A lot of girls on the street wound up wor-
king for some pimp who cared only about the money they brought in.
Prostitution is not a easy business to be alone in.  Some think it easy
to just stand on a street corner to turn tricks, but that leaves you
open to everything from physical abuse, to robbery, to arrest.  A pimp
can get you by some of that, but the degradations of being a street-
walker will tear you apart emotionally.  Some think that placing a com-
mercial ad in something like "Screw" magazine is better, but you get
more crank calls than you can handle, and you never know what sort of
weirdo you may be welcoming into your apartment that way.  Those ways
are dangerous, and degrading.

The call-girl stands at the top of the profession if she has a Madam
who can handle things in the proper way.  The Madam takes all the
calls, and screens out the cranks, weirdos, and police as best she can.
The Madam, if she is good, will also screen the clientele, and give you
some assurance that things will go well.  She is also a place to call
if you do get arrested, or in some other sort of trouble, and has con-
tacts with lawyers and doctors who can take care of those problems.  A
good Madam will pay for those services if it is her fault that you got
into the trouble, but the girl is expected to handle the cost any other
time.  Fair is fair.  Helen was that sort of Madam.  She always took
care of things.

I told Helen all about what had happened after I had last seen her on
the courthouse steps.  She was interested in hearing all about Margo,
and said she was happy that I was out of that environment.  "It's too
bad that you aren't living alone now," she said.  "Your Edith won't be
a problem, will she?"  I assured her that I could come and go as I
pleased, and that as long as none of my clients ever called me at home,
things would be fine.  She was also anxious that I get a regular job
too.  "You'll need one for a while," she said.  "The money sounds good,
but you won't work every night.  My contacts are building, but they
still have a little way to go."

"How many girls do you have?," I asked.  "Well," she replied, "I have
two others that do the sort of assignments that we're talking about,
and I have a few special clients of my own.  I also have fifteen others
that do straight modeling assignments.  Models-In-Minutes is a legiti-
mate model agency too.  That's my real bread and butter.  This is a
sort of enjoyable sideline."  That prompted a long discussion of my own
modeling career.  I told her about the coat modeling assignment, and
the contract with the photography studio.  "I know Tom," Helen said.
"I've sent some people to him, and he keeps hitting on me for a date.
I can list you as a model too, but bring me a copy of your contract
with him first.  I can't list you if it violates that contract.  Are
you sure you can handle a model's changing room with all the other
girls watching you change?"  I smiled, and said, "I handled that cell
including going to the toilet, didn't I?"  Helen laughed, saying, "Yes
you did.  This just might work out."

We laughed for a bit, and Helen said, "I might be taking on five more
girls and a guy next week for the nighttime assignments.  I thought you
should know that.  I know an older Madam who wants to retire, and I'm
meeting with her and her people on Sunday afternoon.  I used to work
for her, and they want me to take things over.  The extra people won't
affect you directly, but I get her client book too.  That could mean
more and better assignments.  She has a lot of politicians and judges
in there.  They are good to have when we need a favor, if you know what
I mean."  Helen ordered some coffee for us, and asked, "So.  Now that
we both know a lot more about this, what do you think?  Are you ready
to become a call-girl?"  I nodded.  I was ready.

"When do I start?," I asked.  "As soon as you fill out a job applica-
tion for my agency, and I can line up some clients for you," Helen
answered.  "As long as I keep you on just the escort service part of
it, we don't have to worry about your contract with Tom.  If you can
bring that contract and your photo portfolio to my office on Monday
morning at ten, we'll see what we can do with you as a model."  I was
going to the photo studio later that day to pick up the pictures, so I
told her that I would bring them.  "Now," said Helen, "we have one more
part of this interview to do, but not here.  I have a room upstairs in
the hotel for that.  We'll go up there after coffee.  All right?"  I
nodded.  What was this about?

We finished the coffee, and Helen signed the bill.  "Shall we go?," she
said.  I rose, and slipped my stole around my shoulders.  Helen led the
way out of the restaurant.  We crossed the lobby to the elevators, and
all male eyes followed our progress.  I could imagine what they were
thinking as they watched us.  I liked that, but what I could not ima-
gine was what Helen wanted of me in her hotel room.  I was soon to find
out, but I still wondered anyway.

There was a man with us in the elevator, and his eyes kept shifting
between the two of us as we rode up.  I let the front of my stole drop
to give him a little show of the bit of cleavage that I had, and his
eyes riveted to my chest.  Helen smiled discretely at me in obvious
pleasure at my teasing of him that way.  He looked quite disappointed
when we got out at the eleventh floor to go to Helen's room.

The room was actually a two room suite with a small bar.  Helen fixed a
drink for herself, and asked what I wanted.  I took a Gin & Tonic.  "I
know you're wondering what I wanted you to come up here for," she said.
"I thought it might be easier for us to discuss the more personal as-
pects of the job in a more private setting, and I would also like to
get a photo or two of you here.  I have a little catalog of my girls
that I show to some clients, and we couldn't do that in the restaurant.
Is that all right with you?"  I agreed.  It sounded like a good idea.

"Put on your stole, and stand by the sofa, please," Helen asked.  I
did, and she produced a 35MM camera.  I struck a pose, and the strobe
flashed.  I was in her catalog.  "Sit down on the sofa, and hold your
drink," Helen said, and the strobe flashed a second time.  "Now we need
a few that may be a little more intimate," Helen said.  "Would you take
off your dress?"  I thought for a moment, but it seemed reasonable that
her clients would like to see what they were getting, so I agreed, and
reached for the zipper.  "Not here," said Helen.  "We'll do these in
the bedroom."  She followed me to the bed.

I stripped to just my bra, panties, garter-belt, hose, and heels, and
Helen asked me to sit on the bed.  The covers were already turned down,
so I struck a few sexy poses there.  Helen photographed all of them.

"I have one personal request of you," Helen said.  "I'd like to see you
nude.  I don't show nudes to the clients, but I'd like some pictures of
you that way for my personal album.  Would that be all right?"  This I
had not expected, but I did not see the harm in it.  I liked being pho-
tographed dressed or undressed, so I agreed, and started removing my
stockings.  Helen snapped a few pictures of me as I stripped, but she
seemed more intent on watching me undress for her.  That was fine with
me too, and soon I was lying nude on my back on the bed with my little
penis still carefully in its tuck.  Helen took four pictures of me that
way.

"Could I see your cock?," Helen asked.  I had sort of expected that.
Almost everyone who saw me nude also wanted to see my penis.  Some li-
ked looking at it for its own sake, and some needed to see it to satis-
fy themselves that I really was not a girl.  Whatever the reason, if I
had gone that far, I always complied, even if it was never my favorite
thing to do.  I flexed my thighs, and let my little penis out for Helen
to see.

Helen just stared at it for a while.  Knowing her line of work, this
was not a sight that was unfamiliar to her, but she looked at my little
penis as if it were the first time she had ever seen one.  "It doesn't
look right at all," she said.  "What doesn't?," I asked.  "That on
you," she replied.  "Every other detail of your body, even when you're
nude, is that of a small breasted girl.  You just don't look right with
a cock."  I nodded, saying, "I just don't feel right with one either.
That's why I'm having it cut off as soon as the doctor says I'm ready."
Helen sat on the bed next to where I was lying.  "When will that be?,"
she asked.  "I see my doctor later today," I answered.  "He's setting
things up with a psychologist, so I can get it all started.  I have to
live and work as a woman for a year before surgery can begin."

Helen continued staring at my little penis, and also running her eyes
over the rest of my naked body.  "You'll make a very nice girl," she
said.  "You're very beautiful as one already, and your skin is so
soft."  She ran her fingers over my chest as she spoke, and my nipples
stiffened in excitement.  "I know quite a number of women who would
like to be as pretty as you," she said as her hand moved lower on my
body, and came to rest on my now stiffening penis.

I felt both surprise and pleasure as Helen's hand held my little penis,
and her fingers rolled the head of it between them.  "I think I told
you," Helen said softly, "that I'm a Lesbian, but your body fascinated
me when we were in the cell together, and it fascinated me even more
now.  I've made love with my other girls.  Could I make love to you
now?"  I looked up into her eyes.  I had never made love with a woman
before, but this felt somehow right.  "Will you take me the way you
would any other woman?," I asked.  With a big smile on her face, she
replied, "That's the only way I want you."

Helen leaned over to put her face very near to my little penis.  Her
tongue flicked out to touch it, and my entire body stiffened with sex-
ual excitement.  She did not take it into her mouth in the manner of a
blow-job, but licked it the way a woman would lick at another woman's
clitoris when performing cunnilingus.  It felt very good.  After a few
moments of this, she sat up again, and said, "Give me a minute to get
comfortable, so we can really enjoy ourselves."

Helen stood, and pulled down the zipper at the back of her dress.  Un-
der it, she was clad in a black lace bra and panties set.  I watched as
she unhooked and removed her stockings, and took off her garter-belt.
The real treat for me came when she stripped away her bra, and I could
again see those marvelous breasts of her's that I had delighted so much
in looking at while we were in the jail.  I kept trying to picture what
it was going to be like to be able to proudly display a pair of breasts
like them on my own chest someday soon.  I wanted that so very much.
Then she slipped out of her panties, and was as nude as I already was,
giving me a view of the thatch of fine, blonde pubic hair at the jun-
ction of her legs.  Helen was a strikingly beautiful woman.

Helen lay on the bed next to me, and took me into her arms.  The whole
length of her body pressed against mine, and I could feel her pubic
hair tickling the tip of my little penis.  I had never been attracted
to women, but this was different.  On this bed, I was not a man with a
woman in his arms, but felt more like a girl in the arms of a woman who
desired her sexually.  Helen did all that she could to encourage this
feeling.  She made sure that I was generally on my back in the submis-
sive role to her gentle sexual aggressions the whole time we spent in
bed together.  She took me as she said she would.  She took me in the
manner that she had taken, or been taken by any other woman she had
ever been to bed with.

Helen turned her body around to once again be licking at what she cal-
led my distended clitoris, and I was presented with her own pussy very
close to my face.  Growing bold, I touched it, spreading the outer lips
with my fingers to get a good look at that part of the female anatomy
that I would soon have, and wanted to have as much, if not more than
her breasts.  Helen's reaction was to spread her legs to give me more
access, and say, "Go ahead.  Kiss my pussy!"  I did, and the taste was
something wonderful.  Helen began moaning softly, and kept on licking
me.  I was going to be all the woman I could be in this life, but there
was still something inherently right in doing this with another woman.
I knew that this would not be the last time I did it.  Helen began to
shudder all over, and I knew that she was in the throes of orgasm.  I
licked her pussy all the way through it.

Helen turned back around to face me again, and we kissed.  I could tell
that she enjoyed the taste of her own love juices on my face.  "I want
to bump pussies with you now," she said excitedly.  She urged me onto
my back, and lifted one leg over to straddle me.  Her cunt pressed
against my penis, and suddenly, I felt it enter her vagina.

I had never had my penis in a woman before.  It felt as if it had been
wrapped in soft, warm, wet velvet.  Helen moved her body up and down on
it. and thousands of sexual thrills shot through me.  I had no desire
to mount her as a man would do, but with her on top, it was ecstasy.
The muscles of her vagina gripped me tightly, and her up and down move-
ments got faster.  The pressure in my testicles reached the boiling
point, and I shot my load of cum deep inside of her loins!

Helen collapsed on top of me when I had finished cumming, and we lay
that way for a moment.  Then she slid off me.  She took me in her arms,
and we kissed again.  We just lay there cuddling close to each other
for a long time.

"How does it feel to have your first Lesbian experience?," Helen said
softly after a little while.  I was stilled cradled in her arms, so I
stretched a little bit to cuddle closer.  "It was very good," I said.
"I've never done that with a woman before."  Helen kissed me on the
forehead, saying, "There are many delights to be found in another wo-
man's arms.  Let me teach you all of them.  I find it very difficult to
think of you as anything but a woman, so that's the only way I can
treat you.  I hope we can be together like this again from time to
time.  All right?"

This was something completely new to me.  I had never been able to
think of women as lovers in anything but a fantasy.  Some of the boys I
had grown up with had talked about women and girls in a sexual way, and
I had gone along with it mostly just in an attempt to try to fit in,
but I never really understood what thrill could be found in it.  The
few bits of female nudity that I had seen in my life had never turned
me on much either.  Any interest in seeing them on my part was more of
a clinical nature than anything else.  I was curious to see the body
parts that I should have had from birth, and imagine what my body would
be like when I got them at last.  I could never picture myself actually
using the male parts of my body to have intercourse with the female
parts of any woman's body, and yet I had just done that.  It shook me a
little.

"I should get going," I said at last.  "I have a doctor's appointment
in a little while."  Helen got up from the bed.  I could still see a
few drops of my semen glistening on the upper inside of her thighs.  I
would have rather it had been my thighs glistening with drops of semen,
but with the doctor's help, that would happen someday soon.  "Shall we
get cleaned up before we dress?," she asked.

We both stepped into the shower together.  Helen handed me a bar of
soap taking another for herself, and said, "It'll be more fun to wash
each other."  She started by soaping up my shoulders, but I went di-
rectly to her breasts.  "You like them, don't you?," she asked.  "Yes,"
I replied.  "I want mine to be just like them when they grow out.  I'm
due for a hormone shot today.  I get one a week.  The doctor says they
should start growing on their own soon, and I've already started doing
some exercises to help them along.  I hope they hurry up.  I'm tired of
falsies."  Helen smiled, and started soaping my breasts too.  "You have
a little bit already," she said.  "They should be nice when they get
bigger.  I can hardly wait to play with them."  In a strange way, I
wanted her to do that too.

We spent some length of time cleaning each other's genitals.  I was
just fascinated by the feel of Helen's pussy.  I had never really had
the chance to touch one before.  It was so very unlike all the cocks I
had handled.  Helen seemed just as fascinated with my little penis al-
though she had felt many in her time too.  "It's amazing how you keep
this hidden so well," she said.  "Well, it's not very big," I answered,
"but I wish it really wasn't there at all."  Helen got a playfully evil
look in her eyes, and said, "Well, once that happens, we'll just have
to get you a strap-on dildo for when we're together."  "No," I replied.
"You wear the strap-on, and do me.  I'd like that better!"  There was a
lot of laughter as we rinsed off.

We dressed together, helping each other with all the zippers, hooks,
and buttons in those inconvenient places that the designers of women's
clothing seem to put them.  "What are you doing on Saturday night?,"
Helen asked while we were dressing.  "I've got no real plans," I ans-
wered.  "I might have a client for you if you're interested," she said.
"He's in New York City on business, and he usually takes one of my
girls on a date whenever he's here.  He once asked about someone like
you, so I'll suggest it to him if it's all right with you.  He's good
for a hundred dollar, all night date, and a twenty-five dollar tip if
he likes you according to the girls.  That gets you one-hundred and
fifteen after my agent's fee.  His only hang up is that you not be
there on Sunday morning.  He'll take you to dinner, and back to his
hotel, but you leave when he falls asleep.  He's got a religious thing
about Sundays.  How about it?"  It sounded good to me, so I agreed.
"But I thought you said I had to fill out some sort of a job applica-
tion first?," I asked.  "You just did that," Helen answered.

"I really have to get going," I said.  "I still have some errands to
run before I go home, so I had better get to it."  Helen nodded, and
said, "Call the office number on my card each day between ten and noon
for any assignments that might come up.  You won't get me unless you
have to talk to me for some reason, but my receptionist will give you
all you need to know.  I'll send a limousine to pick you up at home,
and take you where you have to go.  All right?"  Helen said she had
some work to do in the room, so we kissed gently, and I left alone.  I
was now a call-girl.

I turned a few more heads in the lobby as I left the hotel.  I liked
doing that, so I decided to walk to the doctor's office to get my hor-
mone shot.  It really was not that far away, and except for the early
Autumn chill in the air, it was a nice day.  My appointment with the
doctor should have been yesterday evening, but I changed it so I would
not have to make two trips into Manhattan.  I got all the lustful looks
I could have wanted on the way there, and a few whistles when I walked
by a construction site.  Most women will object to that, and rightly
so, but it can be a bit of a boost for your ego sometimes.

The visit to the doctor was very businesslike.  It was really more of a
visit to his nurse than anything else.  She asked me a number of ques-
tions to start with that were designed to determine what sort of react-
ions I was having to the hormones.  She was very pleasant and friendly
about it, and tried to make things as easy for me as possible.  She
also had to draw a little blood on this visit for my monthly blood
test.  The hormones can affect blood sugar levels, and kidney and liver
function, so these have to be monitored closely.  After all that was
done, she gave me the hormone shot.  The whole procedure with her took
about a half hour each time I was there.  I did not mind.  I was get-
ting a half hour closer to being all the woman I could be in this life
each time.

The last ten minutes or so of the visit was spent with Dr. Benjamin
himself.  Most of the time we just talked, but sometimes he examined
me.  "You're doing well so far, Bobbi," he would say, and try to ex-
plain some of the things that the hormones were doing to me.  This time
he told me that he had set up my appointment with the psychologist for
next week.  I only had to call to confirm the day and time.  This was
very important because without the psychologist there can be no sur-
gery.  I would have to live for at least a year as a woman prior to the
start of surgery, and this Real Life Test (RLT) would have to be moni-
tored by the psychologist to validate it, and be sure I was adjusting
properly.  I said I would be sure to call.

I left the doctor's office, and went back to the street.  I would have
to take a cab to the photo studio to pick up my model's portfolio, so I
started looking up and down the street to see if one was coming.  A big
deep voice from behind me said, "Lost?"  I turned, and looked into the
broad, Irish face of the same policemen that I had met in the Central
Park Zoo after a doctor's visit a couple of weeks ago.

"Hi!," I said.  "No.  Not lost.  Just looking for a cab, uhh..."  "Bri-
an," he said.  "The name's Brian, and your's is Bobbi, right?"  I nod-
ded.  "Look," he said, "I could get in trouble for doing this if anyone
finds out, or you take it wrong, but I tried to call you, and someone
said you moved, and wouldn't give me the new number.  I'd like to see
you sometime when I'm off-duty.  Now, if my sergeant finds out that I
asked you for a date like this, I'm in big trouble, but I didn't know
if I'd see you again, so I thought I'd take the chance.  What do you
think?"

He was just so cute with his babbling, little boy way of talking, and
rather attractive too.  I found it very difficult to say "no" to him.
I stepped back onto the sidewalk, and said with a wink, "If it's the
business of the police to assist the public, then part of that is
hearing the problems that the public has.  As a member of the public,
I'd like to complain about the length of time it takes to get a cab
here, but knowing that there are better places to discuss this than on
the street, I'd like you to phone me at home to set up a meeting.  Does
that constitute enough police business to justify our talking now?"

Brian smiled broadly, and wrote down my new telephone number in his
notebook.  I do not know why I gave it to him, but there was just some-
thing about him that I liked.  I had never dated a cop, but it should
not be too much of a difference from anyone else.  "Yes, Miss," Brian
answered.  "It does.  Maybe I should call you tonight to discuss the
meeting.  Would that be okay with you?"  "I'll be home anytime after
seven o'clock," I said.  "I'll be expecting to hear from you, Officer
Brian.  Don't let me down."

Brian promised that he would not.  I did want to date him, but I made
up my mind that there would be no sex.  I could not, of course, take
the chance of what might happen when he discovered my little penis, but
I also wanted to be a lady this time.  Maybe I was maturing a bit, but
there were more things that I wanted from life than a quick thrill.

A cab soon whisked me away from Brian, and toward the photo studio.  I
felt good about seeing him again.  He knew nothing of who I was, and
what I was doing.  To him, I was just a pretty girl that he very much
wanted to date.  He knew nothing at all about me other than that he had
seen me twice around Central Park, and that I had just moved into a new
place to live.  I liked that.  Some of the things that were going on in
my life leaned heavily toward the tawdry side.  It might be pleasant to
have something that was fresh and clean.  I did not know how long any-
thing with Brian might last, but I was willing to give it a try.

Tom was waiting for me in his office when I arrived, and gave me a big
greeting.  He was, however, on the telephone as usual.  I took my seat
in front of his desk, and caught him sneaking looks at my legs all the
way through his conversation.  I guessed that these looks were just
more conditioned reactions to the sight before him than any real lust
for me on his part.  If he had asked, I probably would have hopped into
bed with him, but that was not the sort of thing he indulged in.  I was
just an appealing body to look at.  That was all right with me too.

Tom was still talking when the door opened behind me.  I turned to see
Wendy coming in with a huge pile of photographs under one arm, and a
large, flat box covered in pink wrapping paper under the other.  "Oh,
Hi," she said with just a touch of surprise in her voice.  "I didn't
expect to see you in here yet."  She put the photographs on the small
conference table as I returned her greeting, and slid the box behind a
chair as if to hide it.  Just then, Tom got off the phone.

"Hello, Bobbi!," he said.  "Am I glad you finally came in.  We've got
lots to talk about, but let's get to your portfolio first.  Then we can
talk about some other things."  He took me by the elbow, and ushered me
toward the table where Wendy was spreading out the photographs.

They were all pictures of me.  I stared at them, and from them I stared
back at myself in every pose and position that I had struck during the
photo session a week or so ago.  I saw myself in color and in black &
white.  I was in street clothes and in costume.  I posed dressed and
undressed.  There seemed to be hundreds of them.  "Okay, Bobbi," Tom
said.  "I promised you a model's portfolio as part of our deal.  There
are two-hundred poses there for you to choose from.  You get forty
11X14's from that lot.  Pick one as a portrait, and we'll give you
twenty 8X10's of it for publicity.  Wendy and I will help, but I have
to make another call now, so you girls get started, and have fun."

Tom went back to his desk, and Wendy and I stared at the sea of photo-
graphs.  "Let me make this a little easier," she said.  "Ray and I
already went through them, and we've got some suggestions."  She took
out a black & white head shot that was one of the first Ray had done of
me.  "Use this for your portrait," she said.  I had never seen a really
good picture of myself as a woman before, and I looked at it for a long
minute.  "Okay," I said.  "You know more about this than I do, so I'll
trust your judgement.  I don't think I could have picked a better one."
Wendy leaned over, and whispered, "Good, because that was my favorite,
and Ray had the twenty copies made up already."

The rest of the picking went quickly.  Wendy's judgement was impec-
cable, so I just let her show me the ones she liked best.  There was a
little bit of everything in the selection, from demure to porno.  She
suggested that I only take one that showed my little penis sticking
out.  "You probably don't want many like that anyway," she said, "and
you'll get a copy of the magazine layout of all of them anyway."

When we were done with the picking, she said, "I've got one more sur-
prise for you."  Wendy got out the box that she had hidden behind the
chair.  "Open it," she said.  I tore the paper, and opened the box.  In
it was a sort of flat, soft briefcase of black, shiny leather with a
zipper that ran around three sides.  Inside were five sections, big
enough to hold the 11X14 photographs.  "No model should be without her
portfolio case," she said.  "It's a present from Ray and I.  I hope you
like it."  There was no question that I did.  I hugged her in thanks.

"All done already?," Tom said, rejoining us.  "Good.  Let me see what
you have, and then we'll talk."  He ushered me back toward his desk,
and Wendy started putting away the other pictures.  "See me before you
leave, okay?," she said.  I said I would, and sat in front of Tom's
desk as she left us.

"Well," Tom said when we were alone, "I've got some very good news for
you.  That photo session went very well for both of us.  I've had a
chance to show some of the shots around, and there's a few people in-
terested in buying parts of it.  Most of it is a few of the stock, and
you don't make much on those, but there's a distributor interested in
the transvestite striptease film you did as a short subject for the
porno houses in Europe.  I get listed as the producer in the credits,
and you get billed as any name you want.  All I have to do is put some
titles on it, and all you have to do is sign the contract.  What do you
think?"

This took me by surprise, but it turned out that Tom had already sold
the idea to the distributor before we shot the film.  He never treated
me wrong, but he always held something back at the same time.  "It only
gets shown in Europe?," I asked.  "That's all," Tom answered.  "I'm not
selling the commercial rights for America yet.  The market for that
sort of thing here is very small."  I thought it over a bit, and it se-
emed all right to me.  I did not want to see it running here much, and
Europe sounded like a better place.  Besides, I could use the few hun-
dred dollars that I would get for it.  I agreed, and signed the con-
tract.

"Good!," said Tom.  "In that case, I have a cheque for you."  He handed
me a cheque, and I looked at it.  It was made out to me for three-thou-
sand dollars!  I was stunned.  "What name should we bill you as in the
movie?," Tom asked, but I was too dumbfounded to speak.  I could not
believe the size of the cheque.  "Is this all for me?," I asked.  "Yes
it is," Tom answered.  "Two-thousand is for the film, eight-hundred is
for the transvestite magazine layout, and the rest is for the stills
and the session.  You won't get a cheque like that all the time, but
this was just a good deal.  Now what name do you want to be known as in
the film, or should I just make something up?"

I told him to make up a name, and the film was released with me under
the name of "Billie Beare" as the star.  It did not really matter.  I
deposited the cheque in my special bank account the next day.  That
gave me five-thousand dollars tucked away toward my surgery.  It was
nowhere near enough yet, but it was getting there.

"I have something to talk to you about now," I said when I regained my
composure.  "I have a chance to sign with a modeling agency, but I
don't want to violate our contract.  Is that possible?"  Tom asked the
name of the agency, and got a big smile on his face when I said it was
Models-In-Minutes.  He leaned back in his chair, and said, "You tell
Helen to call me, and we'll work it out.  I'm sure she can get you lots
of special assignments."  He seemed to have a knowing tone in his voice
when he said that, but I did not press the issue.  I gathered up my
portfolio, and left his office.  I had to see Wendy as promised.

The studio was lit only with a few bulbs dangling from the ceiling.  It
was a sharp contrast to the bright lights that had been on the last
time I was in here.  The door to the dressing room was open, and I
could see that there was someone inside from all the way across the
studio.  The clicking of my heels on the hardwood and tile floor aler-
ted the shadowy figure, and it appeared at the doorway of the dressing
room to see who was approaching.  The figure was, of course, Wendy.

"Hi!," I said entering the dressing room.  "Hello yourself," Wendy said
giving me a warm hug in greeting.  "You said to come see you when I got
finished with Tom," I said.  "Yeah," she replied.  "Nothing special.  I
just thought we could talk a little if you have time.  I like you as a
friend, but I haven't been able to get hold of you since the photo ses-
sion.  All I found out from your ex-roommate was that you'd moved, but
she wouldn't say where."

"Oh," I said hesitantly, "I was err... away for a couple of days, and
then I got the chance to move in with my mother in Queens.  I'm also
signing up with a modeling agency.  Lots has happened."  Wendy started
sorting through my portfolio of pictures.  "It looks like we've got a
lot to talk about," she said, and asked me what modeling agency I had
signed with.  When I told her it was Models-In-Minutes, she said, "Oh!
So you're going to work with Helen too?  I do some assignments for her
agency sometimes.  I used to do more before I got this job, but now I'm
too busy here."  It should not have surprised me that both Wendy and
Tom knew Helen, but I did not expect them to know her so well.  Before
I could say anything else, Wendy said with a giggle, "She handles lots
of people.  That's the way she does business, on volume.  Has she asked
you about doing her special assignments yet?"

It was beginning to seem like Helen's business was an open book in the
industry.  I decided to see how far it went, so I said, "And what if
she has, and suppose I accepted?"  Wendy stopped laughing.  "Oh," she
said, "I didn't mean to offend you.  It was just some gossip.  All
modeling agencies get stories like that about them.  Not many are true,
but I know this one is because Helen asked me to do it.  It's okay with
me if you do.  I can keep a friend's secret... if she'll keep mine.  I
agreed to do it too!"  This was getting more interesting by the minute.
"Then you're one of Helen's two regular girls?," I asked.  "Only two
girls?," Wendy answered.  "I thought she would have had more by now.
No.  I only did it twice.  I don't do that regularly.  Just sometimes
if I need some extra money for something.  We'll talk about it some
other time.  Not here."

A heavy step at the door made us both turn to see who it was.  "Can
anyone join this party?," said Ray coming into the dressing room.
"Ray," said Wendy, "Bobbi lives out in Queens now too.  Can we give her
a ride home, so we can talk?"  Ray lit a cigarette, and said with a
grin, "You mean I have to listen to you chicks twittering all the way
home?  Okay.  I guess I can put up with it, but let's go.  It's quit-
ting time, and I want my dinner!"  Wendy shook her head.  "He's such a
romantic," she said.

Ray's car was in the garage across the street, so it only took a few
moments to get there.  Wendy and I took the back seat.  It would be
easier to talk that way, and she wanted to help me organize my port-
folio on the way.  We made a lot of small talk as we rode, and somehow
seemed to be avoiding any mention of Helen and her agency.  It turned
out, however, that Helen's sideline business was not very well known in
the industry.  It was sheer coincidence that Wendy knew anything at all
about it, and Tom only knew because he occasionally used the service to
entertain clients.  Most others only viewed the story as another bit of
the vast sea of meaningless gossip that floated around the modeling
industry.  My secret, it seemed, would be safe.

It happened that Ray and Wendy lived only a couple of miles from Edith,
and dropping me off there was really on their way.  Ray seemed surpri-
sed that I could live in such a luxurious building, and Wendy liked the
way that Thomas, the doorman, held the car doors for us as we got out,
and she moved to the front seat with Ray.  I would have liked to have
asked them to come up for a visit, but Ray was anxious to get home for
his dinner, and I had not talked to Edith about bringing people home
yet.  We parted company on the sidewalk, and I went up to the apart-
ment.

Edith was already at home when I got there, and asked me how my day had
gone.  I told her about signing up with a modeling agency, and she
thought that was just wonderful.  "I knew you'd get a job like that,"
she said, "but that won't keep you going all the time.  You should get
a regular job too until you get established as a model.  Have you ever
thought of calling that fellow Paul who used to be with the store's
personnel department?  You told me he liked you, and I know where he's
working now.  I asked a friend of his today.  Maybe he'll have some
ideas."

Edith was being motherly again.  She was gently nudging me toward doing
what I knew I ought to do anyway.  I had not thought of calling Paul,
but it was not a bad idea at all.  He might just have an idea or two
that would help.  I said I would call him on Monday.

"What's that?," Edith asked after dinner.  She was pointing to my port-
folio case, so I told her what it was.  I opened it, and we spent the
evening looking through the pictures and talking.  The only picture I
held back was the nude of me with my little penis sticking out.  I was
not quite ready to show that to her yet.  "You're very beautiful in
these," she said.  "You make a good model.  You look like you belong on
the stage."  I looked at the pictures once again too.  "All the world's
a stage," I said.  "I'm only just a minor bit player."  "Maybe," Edith
replied.


Sub-title: On Call

"My, but don't you look pretty tonight," said Edith as I stepped out of
my room.  "This must be some special place you're going."  I gave her a
little pout, and said, "I told you this was my first modeling assign-
ment for the agency, and I have to look my best for it." I fussed a bit
more with my hair, and Edith asked, "It seems rather late for a job,
and it's a Saturday night too.  What sort of assignment is it?"  I hes-
itated for a second, and then replied, "Oh, it's some stock shots that
have to do with, ah... having fun at night in New York.  I'll be very
late coming home, so don't wait up for me."  Edith looked at me with
one of her motherly looks.  I could not be sure if she had bought the
story or not.

It was not a lie.  It was an assignment from Helen's modeling agency,
and it did have to do with having fun at night in New York.  The only
thing that I had not told Edith was that I was the fun that someone was
going to have.  I was indeed going on my first assignment tonight, but
it was my first assignment on call as a call-girl.

My date for tonight was a businessman from Chicago who came to New York
about four times a year.  He was one of Helen's regular clients, and
usually took one of her girls out to dinner, and back to the bed in his
hotel room whenever he was in town.  Some time ago he had asked Helen
if she knew of anyone like me instead of one of the regular girls that
she always supplied.  When he had called Helen on Thursday to set up
his usual date, she mentioned me to him, and he accepted readily.  He
was not overtly homosexual, but did want a sort of change of pace from
his wife.  As long as I wore a dress, his self-image would stay intact.
There are lots of men like him.

I had gotten the assignment from Helen herself when I called in on Fri-
day like she had told me to.  Most of my assignments from then on I
would get through her receptionist, but she liked to give out first
assignments personally.  Helen had been very concerned about the way I
would handle myself with my date.  "Be affectionate," she had told me,
"but not overt about it in public.  My girls all have the sort of class
about them that would fit a senior executive's wife.  Our clients are
entitled to more than just some chippie to ball."

Helen was almost as much of a mother as Edith in a lot of ways.  She
insisted on going over almost every detail of the assignment with me on
the phone.  "I just want things to go well for you," she had said.
"This is your first time out, but it should not seem like that to the
client."  She was right.  All of her instructions were worthwhile, and
I did appreciate her concern.  It was a benefit to both of us.  I would
have a better time of it with my date, and she would be assured of ke-
eping a repeat customer.

"The limousine will pick you up in front of your apartment building,"
Helen said.  "Be ready at six.  The limo will take you to the hotel.
Your companion's name is Dan.  Call his room from the house phone in
the lobby, and introduce yourself.  He'll tell you if he wants you to
come up, or wait for him in the bar.  This one usually picks the bar.
Tell him what you're wearing, and sit at one end of the bar so you're
easy for him to find.  Greet him quietly, but warmly, like you've known
him for a while.  It's okay to kiss, but keep it friendly, not passion-
ate, and only if he makes the first move toward you.  Let him make the
first moves all night.  You just don't resist anything he might do.

I assured her that I would do exactly what she told me, and she added,
"Two last things.  Don't ask for money!  I bill him for tonight, and
I'll send you a cheque so it looks like a real modeling assignment.
Finally, take it easy on the booze.  Even if he gets a little drunk,
you don't!  Keep your head straight, and have fun.  Call me at home on
Sunday afternoon, and tell me how it went.  Okay?"  That was all she
had to say.  I told her that I would be fine, and I would report in on
Sunday.

"Have fun," Edith said as I put on my coat, and got ready to leave.  "I
will," I replied.  "I'm looking forward to tonight.  It should be fun
too."  I was still trying to cover things, but I really was looking
forward to it.  I liked the feeling of class that I got about going to
the sort of places that Helen said I would be going.  The Hippies could
keep their candles and pot.  Crystal chandeliers and champagne were
more to my taste.  This might be prostitution, but it was better than
any common street walker would ever have.

It was ten minutes before six when I got to the lobby of the apartment
building.  I was a little early for my limousine, but I was anxious to
get going.  I did not feel like waiting upstairs with Edith and Sarah.
They were too full of motherly type questions, and I was not in the
mood for answering them.  I guess all girls got that sort of mild third
degree from their mothers before a date, or anytime they were going out
in the evening.  It was all well intentioned, but my mind was on other
things tonight.

"Cab, Miss Bobbi?," said Thomas the doorman when I looked out to see if
my ride had arrived.  "No, Thomas," I replied.  "I have a limousine
coming to pick me up in a few minutes.  I was just looking for it."
Thomas touched the brim of his cap politely, and said, "Very good, Miss
Bobbi.  If you'd like to wait on the lobby sofa, I'll let you know when
it arrives."  I thanked him, and walked to the sofa to wait.  I only
had time to check my make-up in my compact mirror when he came over to
tell me that the limousine had arrived.

The driver was holding the door to the back seat for me as I crossed
the sidewalk to get in.  "Good evening," he said.  "My name is William.
I'm your driver for tonight.  Please let me know if there is anything I
can do for you."  William was a tall, black man with the muscular build
of a boxer.  I found out later that he had been a boxer in the Navy,
and that Helen had hired him as a driver for her limousine service
because he would be able to handle any problems that might come up if a
client decided to do something foolish.  It was nice to know that he
would be there if any problems did come up.  I got into the back seat,
and William closed the door behind me.

I settled back into the seat, and William drove away from the curb.
"Miss Bobbi?," he said through the limousine's intercom system.  "Your
date is at the New York Hilton tonight.  I've been retained to drive
both of you around all evening.  I will also be waiting for you in the
hotel lobby when you're ready to go home.  Just let the bell captain
know when you need me, and they will fetch me for you.  The radio is
under your control, and there are some soft drinks and wine in the bar
back there if you would like some.  Sit back, and enjoy the ride."
That is exactly what I did.

It was not long before the limousine drew up in front of the New York
Hilton, and William was holding the door for me to get out.  "Thank
you, William," I said with a regal air, and went into the hotel.  I
went straight to the house phone, and gave the operator my client's
name.  A moment later there was a ringing tone, and a deep voice on the
other end said, "Hello?"  The voice sounded nice, and I said, "Dan?
This is Bobbi.  Helen sent me.  Shall I come up, or would you rather
meet down here?"  There was a short pause, and then the voice said,
"No... ah... I'll meet you in the bar.  Okay?"  I told him I would be
waiting for him, and described what I was wearing.  "I'll be right
down," he said.

I slipped my coat off, and went into the lobby bar.  Again it seemed
like every male eye was following my every move as I walked to one end
of the bar, and sat demurely on a stool at the end.  I just had time to
order a white wine, and take a sip when a man in a dark blue suit stood
next to me.  "Bobbi?," he said.  "Dan?," I replied, and he nodded tak-
ing my hand.  He leaned toward me, so I gave him a friendly kiss on the
lips in greeting.  He seemed to like that very much.

Dan was about forty years old, and slim built with just the beginnings
of a middle-age tummy.  He looked like he had once been athletic.  He
was six feet tall with a big Polish looking face, and dark, curly hair
just barely tinged with grey.  He ordered a Scotch for himself, and we
made some bit of "getting-to-know-you" small talk.  He was pleasant and
easy to talk with, and liked making silly little double entente jokes,
turning most things I said into straight lines for them.  I rather
liked him.  He was fun to be with.

We finished our drinks as we talked, and then got ready to go to din-
ner.  "You know," Dan said as we walked through the lobby, "you're not
quite what I expected."  I looked at him questioningly, and asked,
"What do you mean?"  He smiled.  "Only good things," he said in a whis-
per.  "I just expected someone different.  You're just like being with
a real girl.  I like that."  I liked that too.

William was waiting for us with the limousine when Dan and I stepped
out of the hotel.  I slid into the back seat first, and caught Dan
giving my legs a good look as the short skirt of my cocktail dress rode
even further up my thighs almost exposing my stocking tops.  He liked
what he saw.  Dan slid into the seat next to me, and slipped his arm
around me, pulling us closer together.  "You don't mind if I hold you
like this, do you?," he asked with a romantically lustful tone in his
voice.  "Not at all," I replied.  "I like it.  We're going to be very
close friends tonight."  Then I kissed him on the cheek.  "Yes we are,"
he said with only lust in his voice this time, and gently fondled my
right knee.

We did not have far to go, so it was only minutes before the limousine
drew up in front of the RCA Building, and we were in the elevator on
our way up to The Rainbow Room.  I left my coat at the check room, and
we were escorted to our table.  The waiter took our drinks order, and
we were left alone to talk.

This was certainly not a cheap date for Dan, so I was curious to find
out how he could afford it.  I was not obvious about it, but in the
course of conversation I was able to find out many things.  Dan was not
just some salesman on a junket to New York City.  He was the president
of a large manufacturing company based in Chicago.  He came to New York
City four times a year for meetings with the investment bankers who
handled his company's stock on the exchange.  He had a happy home life
in suburban Chicago with his wife and two children, but he liked to
have a little fun when he was traveling.  He did not want the hassle of
keeping a mistress or girlfriend somewhere, so he relied on call-girls
for his fun.  It was all very straightforward.

I was also very curious about why he would want someone like me.  The
answer to that was quite straightforward too.  Dan had a rather normal
wife with whom he had a normal and active sex life, but he also had a
taste for the exotic and unusual as well.  He always looked for some-
thing he could not find at home.  He had gone through a few homosexual
experiences when he was in college, but he was not overtly homosexual
himself.  He just liked the excitement that being able to fondle a cock
under a skirt gave him.  He would not have openly dated another man,
but dating a pre-op transexual like me allowed him the cover of looking
like he was with a woman in places he liked to go while still knowing
that he would have the pleasure that feeling my little penis would give
him later.  He liked places like The Rainbow Room very much, and with
someone like me, he could be seen by people who knew him without fear
of ruining his reputation.  That was all fine with me.  I liked being
there with him, and what was to happen later would be fun too.  I made
up my mind to just relax, and enjoy the evening.

"Would you care to dance?," Dan asked after the waiter took our dinner
order.  "Yes," I replied demurely.  "I'd like that very much."  He held
me very close as we glided slowly across the dance floor.  He was a
good dancer, and plainly enjoyed dancing a lot.  It felt good to be in
his arms that way.  I could feel the sexual excitement of the evening
growing with every step, and my little penis twitched a bit in its tuck
in my panties when Dan slid his hand down to cop a quick feel of my ass
while we danced.  This was definitely shaping up as a fun evening.

Dinner was wonderful too.  Dan had taken the initiative, and ordered
Fillet Mignon for two, and a good French wine to go with it.  He was
soft spoken in many ways, but he was also very much in charge of things
at the same time.  I liked that too.  The beginnings of the Women's
Liberation movement were in full swing back then, but I was not much
into them at that time.  I was not about to burn my bras.  I was trying
too hard to get into them!  I liked then, and I still like now, a man
to take charge.  I wanted to be all the woman I could be in this life,
and I liked the traditional ways that a man would treat a woman.  I
liked that Dan treated me that way.

We danced a bit more after dinner, and as the music died, Dan said,
"It's a little after ten.  Shall we go back to the hotel?"  That was
all right with me.  I was enjoying the date, but I was also curious to
find out what he would be like in bed.  He paid the cheque, and we were
soon back in the limousine on our way back to his hotel room so I could
finish the job I had been hired for.

"William," Dan said into the limousine intercom after we had gotten in.
"Take us up through Central Park for about half an hour before we get
to the hotel."  William's voice on the intercom just said, "Very good,
sir," and we pulled away from the curb.  "I thought I might get to know
you a little better before we get to the hotel," Dan said turning to
me.  "I hope you don't mind."  I did not mind at all.  Helen had told
me I should be responsive to all my client's needs, and I was ready for
anything that might happen.  I wanted Dan to get to know me better too!

I had only draped my coat over my shoulders, so it slid from me easily
when Dan took me in his arms.  Our lips pressed together, and I parted
mine to allow his tongue admittance to the inside of my mouth.  His
tongue felt hot when it touched mine, and they rolled around each other
beginning the serious part of the mating dance that would end later in
the bed in his hotel room.  His arms felt strong as they enfolded me,
and I could tell that he had been very athletic in his youth.  It felt
good to have him holding me.  This was one call-girl who was going to
enjoy her work tonight.

Dan's hands did not stay inactive at the ends of his strong arms for
very long.  One moved around in front of me to knead my tiny, but grow-
ing, breasts through the padding of my bra.  He did not seem disappoin-
ted that I lacked a bit in that area compared to the women he usually
dated.  He gave an excited moan as he felt them, and kept right on with
what he was doing.  He was clearly enjoying himself, and me.

After a few moments, Dan's hand drifted lower on my body, and reached
the hem of my skirt.  It lingered for a second at the knee he had fond-
led earlier, and then proceeded under my skirt along my thigh.  Slowly,
I felt his hand inch upward toward my stocking tops until I could feel
its warmth on the bare flesh above them.  I had an idea of what he wan-
ted, so I opened my legs to allow him access to my crotch.  His hand
immediately slipped between my legs, and started probing the silky mat-
erial of my panties.  I had to twist around somewhat to keep him from
dislodging my little penis from its tuck.  It was hard now, and would
pose a problem under my short skirt as we walked through the hotel lob-
by later if it got out.  I was glad when he had satisfied himself that
it was there, and went back to my breasts.

There was no reason that Dan should be having all the fun at this pet-
ting session.  I was just as curious about his cock as he was about my
body, so it seemed that a quick grope was in order.  While he was play-
ing with my tiny breasts and their padding, I moved one hand down to
his crotch to see what was there.  Mt fingers were met by a fully solid
piece of male meat, straining to be loosed from the confinement of his
trousers.  It was a little twisted up in the layers of cloth that cov-
ered it, so I moved it around to let it straighten out.  Dan let out a
moan as I did that, whispering, "That's it, baby.  Play with it!," into
my ear hoarsely.

His cock felt better to my touch that way.  I could run my fingers the
whole length of it through his pants, and Dan seemed to like when I did
that.  His cock was not overly long.  It felt like a pretty standard
six or six and a half inches long, but it was thick.  Most cocks are
about an inch or so in thickness, but Dan's cock felt at least two
inches thick from base to head.  The other thing that struck me about
it was the hardness of it.  There was always a certain amount of sprin-
giness even when the other cocks I had known were completely hard, but
not with Dan's cock.  His had a hardness akin to that of oak.  It felt
like a sculpture carved from a limb of a mighty tree, and planted be-
tween his legs to grow even more.  I could hardly wait to have it plan-
ted in me!

"Excuse me, sir," came William's voice over the intercom in a soft and
polite tone.  "Yes?," replied Dan breaking our kiss, but not stopping
his toying with my tiny breasts.  "We are about two blocks from your
hotel," William said.  "Are ready to go in, or shall I keep driving a
while longer?"  Dan gave me a look of pure and raw lust that said he
wanted me naked on a bed, and ready for him to bury his hardon in me.
I looked back at him in the same way.  I very much wanted to see, feel,
and taste the instrument of pleasure that I had just felt through his
pants.  "Yes, William," Dan said through the intercom, never taking his
eyes off me.  "I believe we're ready to go to the hotel now."  "Very
good, sir," replied William.

Dan and I adjusted ourselves and our clothes back to presentablity as
the limousine drove the last two blocks to the hotel.  I kissed him one
more time as we arrived at the entrance, and one of the doormen opened
the door to the back seat.  Dan gave my hand an affectionate squeeze
when we got out.  He was treating me exactly as he would any other wo-
man.  This would be a good night.

I put my arm in Dan's to cross the lobby, and he took my hand in his.
"I like being close to you, Bobbi," he said softly while we walked.
"You make me feel good.  I wasn't sure about tonight when Helen first
told me about you.  I've wanted something like this for a long time,
but I've never found someone like you I could feel comfortable with...
until now.  I like you."  I liked him to like me.  A whore is not sup-
posed to get involved emotionally with her johns, but I always seemed
to do that on some level.  Most of the time I could let it go when the
date was over, so it never got me in trouble.  It really is not a good
policy for a prostitute to follow, however, even if it does make her
dates feel good.  She needs to be aloof and detached, or she could wind
up with a lot of emotional trauma.

If we had been alone in the elevator, I am sure Dan and I would have
gone back to the sensual wrestling match that we had started in the
limousine, but the elderly couple who shared the elevator with us would
not have appreciated the surrealism of the scene it would have created.
We contented ourselves with a series of lustful looks, and his hand on
my bottom in the corner of the elevator where no one could see.  I did
not need to see it.  I could feel it, and it felt very nice.  He only
removed it when we got out at his floor, and walked down the corridor
to his room.  Dan paused a second to unlock the door, and throw it open
for me.  I was about to learn what being a call-girl was all about.

Dan's room was large and spacious.  It was not a suite, but it was al-
most big enough to have been one.  The king sized bed all but looked
small over in the far corner.  In the open area in front of it there
was a sofa, an upholstered chair, a small cocktail table, a television,
a dresser, a desk, and a bar.  It actually appeared sort of homey.  The
room had the feeling of just a big living room with a bed in it, but
that bed was the main reason I was here at all.  Dan took my coat, and
hung it in the closet.

"Helen told you what to do after we're done, didn't she?," Dan asked
coming over to me, and putting his hands on my hips.  "Yes she did," I
answered, snaking my arms around his neck.  "I wait until you're asle-
ep, and then dress quietly, and leave.  Am I right?"  Dan nodded, and
said, "That's right.  If this was a Friday night, I'd ask you to spend
the whole night, but tomorrow's Sunday, and I..."  His voice trailed
off, and he gave a little shrug.  "That's fine.  I know what Sundays
are all about.  You don't ever have to explain a thing to me.  I'm here
to make you feel good in any way you want me to.  How can I do that?"
Dan just pulled me close for a long kiss.  The pressure of his hard
cock against my thigh through our clothes told me exactly how I could
please him.

"Would you like a drink?," Dan asked after a few minutes of kissing.
"Yes," I replied, "but let me get them.  I told you I was here to
please you, so you just sit over there on the couch, and let me do it.
Okay?"  Dan gave me a sly, but very pleased smile, and said, "Okay.  I
think I'd like a brandy."  Then he sat at one end of the sofa like a
sheik surveying the harem girl he had picked for the night.

I went to the bar.  It was a little closet-like affair against the wall
with a bar surface on top, and doors below concealing the shelves for
the glasses, bottles, and other bar equipment.  I did not crouch to get
at the shelves, but bent over at the waist with my legs stiff knowing
that my short skirt would ride up in back that way giving Dan a look at
the back of my thighs almost to my stocking tops.  A whistle from him
told me I had achieved the desired effect, and I wiggled my ass a lit-
tle to add to it.  I really did want to please him.

I stood up straight again, and poured two snifters of brandy for us.
Then I turned to face Dan, and said, "I think it's time I got comfor-
table for you."  I reached behind me, and slid down the zipper at the
back of my cocktail dress.  A movement of my shoulders let it fall to
the floor at my feet, and I heard Dan give a little excited intake of
breath.  I stepped out of it, and stood before him in just my powder-
blue bra, panties, and garter-belt with a powder-blue lace full-slip
over them, and seamed stockings and high-heels below.  Another shrug
disposed of the slip, and I deposited it and the dress on the chair.  I
let Dan look at me that way for a moment, and then went to him with the
drinks.

I sat coyly at the opposite end of the sofa from Dan to let him get a
good look.  His eyes were all over me.  "To good times!," I said in a
toast, and we both took a sip of brandy.  It was going to be a good
time tonight if this call-girl had anything to say about it.

We sat there sipping the brandy for a moment, and just looking at each
other before Dan said, "Why don't you come a little closer?"  I stood,
and stepped over to him.  I sat on his lap, put my arms around his
neck, and said, "Is this close enough?"  The pressure of his lips ag-
ainst mine, and the exploring hand on my abdomen gave me my answer.
His hot tongue touched mine, and the hand moved up to my tiny breasts
as it had done in the limousine.  The unbelievable hardness of his cock
pressed against my bottom, and I knew it was time for me to get to
work.

I felt Dan's other hand touch the clasp of my bra, but I squirmed play-
fully away, saying, "Why don't we get you comfortable first?  Let's get
you out of that jacket and tie."  I stood to let him do it, and got a
suit hanger from the closet.  "The valet service is part of this," I
joked.  "Take off your pants too.  You aren't going to need them any-
more tonight."  Dan looked a little funny standing there in just his
dress shirt and underwear as I hung his suit in the closet, but the
protrusion that his cock was making in his boxer shorts was not funny
at all.  It looked delicious, and I could hardly wait for a taste of
it.  Dan had tossed his shirt over the chair when I returned to him.
"You think of everything," Dan said, taking me in his arms again while
we stood in front of the sofa.  "I've never met anyone quite like you
before."  I liked him saying that.  "I'm just full of good ideas," I
replied.  "Why don't you sit down again?"

Dan moved to sit, and tried to hold me as he did.  I had a better idea.
I slid down, out of his embrace into a crouch before him, slipped my
fingers into the elastic waistband of his boxer shorts, and whisked
them down his legs to his ankles.  His massive cock jutted up from his
groin like the marble pillar of an ancient temple.  I just stared at it
as he lifted his stocking feet to let me remove his shorts, and toss
them aside.  His cock was all I had thought it to be when I first felt
it in the limousine.  It was about six and a half inches long, and
fully two inches thick from the tangle of coarse, coal-black hair at
its base to its huge, un-circumcised head.  Two overly large balls hung
below in their hair covered sack.  Dan smiled down at me in expectation
of what was to come next.

I looked at Dan's cock, and flicked out my tongue toward it.  I needed
very much to taste it.  I pressed my moist tongue against his hairy
balls, and licked up along the underside of his cock, all the way to
the tip.  I slipped my tongue under the foreskin, and tasted the very
slightly musky flavor there, causing Dan to moan, "Oh, baby.  That's
the way.  Suck it nice," in a voice now hoarse with excitement.  I rol-
led back the foreskin that covered the glans, and ran my tongue around
the head, inserting the tip gently in the pee-slit.  I might have been
just a whore, but there was no reason I could not enjoy my work.  I was
certainly enjoying this.

I moved lower on him to lick more at his heavy balls.  Dan lay back in
the sofa, and was obviously enjoying this too.  His balls were so big
that I could not quite get them both in my mouth at the same time, but
Dan seemed to like it as I took them each in turn between my lips to
suck and lick on them.  They tasted just wonderful.  I spent a lot of
time loving them with my lips and tongue.

Dan's hands were on my head as I sucked his cock.  They were gentle at
first, but strengthened their grip at his excitement level grew.  Dan
was a man very much in charge of things whatever he was doing.  His
whole manner said authority in every way.  He was also a man who took
charge of things.  He could not abide indecision, and if no one else
would make a decision, he would do it for them.  He did, however, real-
ize that he had to hold back on this in order not to appear overbear-
ing.  Now, as his sexual excitement grew from the licking I was giving
his cock and balls, that facade of gentleness began to fall, and he
took charge of things to satisfy his own carnal needs.

Dan lifted my head, and brought my lips over the tip of his cock.  He
pushed me down on the shaft, forcing my mouth open with its hardness,
and running the length of it to the back of my throat.  This took me by
surprise.  I tried to pull away, but he was just too strong.  He lifted
my head up again until just the glans of his cock were between my lips,
and then forced to all back into my mouth and throat again to repeat
this over and over.  I could not stop him.  He was using my head as
just a piece of meat with which to jerk himself off.  It was no longer
a blow-job.  As his prostitute, I could do little else but curl my lips
tightly about his cock, and let him have his way with me.  It was only
a few minutes before I felt the hot splash of his semen on my tongue.

Dan let out a huge moan as he came, and let go of my head.  His cum
tasted nice on my tongue, and I waited for the second spurt to fill my
mouth with the hot, sticky, white liquid.  With my head again free, I
was able to slide his cock about halfway into my mouth so I would not
loose a drop, but there was no second spurt.  Dan lay back in the sofa,
and relaxed.  That one shot had been it.  I sucked at his cock as I
lifted my head, and let it slip from my lips with a slurping noise.  He
opened his eyes just in time to watch me swallow his little load of
cum.

Dan looked at me for a minute with lust filled eyes.  I was still on my
knees between his legs.  There was lust in more of him than just his
eyes.  His cock had not appeared to have gone limp at all, and still
stood like a mighty tree growing from his loins.  I touched it with my
hand, and felt only the granite hardness that I had been feeling all
along.  It had tasted and felt ever so good in my mouth.  I wanted it
in me!

"I want more of you!," Dan said in a guttural tone, and lunged forward
to grab me.  He was being playful, so I decided to be playful too.  I
jumped to my feet, avoiding his grasp, and stepped away from him toward
the bed.  Dan smiled an evil smile at me, and said, "You don't get away
that easily.  I want you, and I'm going to have you!"  He got up from
the sofa, and slowly started after me with his cock still as rock hard
as ever.  I backed away one step for every step he took forward.  He
was going to "have" me in exactly the way he meant the word, but I wan-
ted him to "have" me on that king-sized bed.  I was not going to let
him catch me until we got there, but we could have the thrill of the
chase for now.

My eyes were fixed on Dan's cock as he came toward me, and I backed
away.  It showed no signs of softening yet.  It was a solid mass of
flesh that poked out in front of him, and waved seductively from side
to side as he slowly approached.  I wondered if it ever got soft.  It
was hard like this when I first touched it in the limousine, and it had
been hard every time I had touched it all evening.  How many women have
dreamed of a man who would never go limp?  I just could not take my
eyes off it as I backed up, and that meant I could not actually see
where I was going.  Dan took a quick step toward me, and I, reacting
just as quickly, tried to take a quick step backward, but could not.
The edge of the bed caught me at the joint behind my knees, and I tum-
bled onto my back on the soft sheets and mattress.

Dan was on me like a tiger on its prey.  The weight of his body pinned
me to the bed, and his lips pressed hard against my mouth.  His hands
gripped my wrists, and held them over my head.  He was not really hur-
ting me, but he was not being gentle about this either.  He had removed
his undershirt while pursuing me to the bed, so he was totally naked on
top of me.  I could feel the warmth of his larger frame against the
length of mine, and the hardness of his cock prodding my thigh.  I
tried to squirm away, but he held me fast, and tightened his hold on me
the more I wriggled.  This did not seem like the gentle man who I had
danced with at The Rainbow Room earlier.  He had lost his gentleness in
the fire of sexual passion, and I was the current object of that.  I
just hoped that I was not about to become one of those stories of a
prostitute who lost control of her client, and had something unfortu-
nate happen to her.

"Now I'm going to see the rest of you!," Dan said in a way that was as
much a command as a statement of his intentions.  He moved my wrists
together, and held them over my head with one hand.  The other hand
went behind me, and expertly un-hooked my bra.  He pulled it up off my
tiny breasts, and looked at them.  The hormones were already having
some effect, and the areola were bulging slightly on each small mound,
both with a tiny button of a nipple at their centers.  Dan's lips clam-
ped over one, and began to suck.  Little tingles of electricity danced
through my nervous system, and I moaned softly and passionately.  No
one had actually sucked on my breasts this way since I had started on
the hormones, so I had never felt this sort of excitement before.  It
was more than I had ever gotten from my tiny "male" breasts.  This is
what I wanted tits for!

The feelings in my breasts had been so intense that I did not notice
anything else until I felt the clasp of my garter-belt release.  Dan
was trying to push it down, and get my stockings off at the same time.
"Let me do it," I whispered in his ear, and his hands released me.
That felt better, and reassured me that his roughness with me was only
passion, and not some desire to hurt.  I sat up at the edge of the bed,
and removed all but my panties, depositing my bra, garter-belt, and
stockings in a delicate pile on the nightstand.  Dan opened the drawer
of the nightstand, took out a letter sized envelope, and placed it
under the pile.  "Leave that until later, when you go," he said.  "Then
take it with you."

I was curious to know what the envelope was, but I had been hired to do
a job, and their was still more work for this call-girl to do.  I lay
back on the bed with my head on a pillow, wearing just my panties, and
awaited my client's next needs.  I think I already knew what they would
be.

It was only seconds before Dan's hands were upon me again, but there
was a difference now.  The gentleness seemed to have returned, and he
cradled me softly in his arms as he lay next to me.  "Helen was sure
right about you," he said as we kissed again.  "I still can't be sure
that you aren't really a woman, even in just your panties."  He was
hinting at what he wanted next, so I replied, "You could take them off
me."  Dan needed no further encouragement than that.  Quickly he moved
to a kneeling position on the bed, and his fingers found the elastic at
the waistband of my panties.  He pulled then down slowly, and just
stared at the bush of pubic hair at my crotch while he got them all the
way off of my legs, and dropped them on top of the pile of lingerie on
the nightstand.  We were now both completely naked.

My little penis was still in its tuck, but it would not have taken much
to dislodge it now.  It had been trying to grow into an erection all
evening, and only the bend it was forced into by being tucked back be-
tween my legs, into my crotch had kept it from standing to its full
five inches.  Even as small as it was, that penis was more than I wan-
ted on me.  I wanted just the little eighth inch nub of a clitoris
guarding the entrance to a vagina down there, but all the lovers who
had ever had me wanted to touch, or at least see, my little penis.  Dan
was apparently no exception.

Dan put his hands on my knees, and spread my legs apart.  That was all
it took.  Mt little penis came free of its tuck, and popped up to greet
him.  Dan's face spread into a big, broad smile at the sight, and he
said, "You've got a very pretty pussy, Bobbi.  It looks good enough to
eat!"  Before I could react to that, Dan lowered his face to my crotch,
and kissed my tiny balls.

I love giving head, but I did not like getting a blow-job at all.  I
did not want to have that penis, and having someone pay that much at-
tention to it was not enjoyable for me.  I put my hands on Dan's head
to push him away, but two things stopped me.  First, as a prostitute, I
was responsible for taking care of all my client's needs.  Helen had
particularly stressed this in her talk, and she would not have been
pleased if I did not take care of this client need.  Second, what Dan
started doing to me felt good.  I did not like getting a blow-job, but
he was not doing anything like that at all.

After the kiss, Dan's tongue flicked out, and touched my balls.  His
tongue was hot.  Not just in the sense of the word that indicates sex-
ual excitement either, but also in that it's temperature felt higher
than I normally would have expected.  He pressed it into my scrotum,
separating my balls, and worked it down the center line to the point
where my ball sack ended deep in my crotch.  That drove me wild!  I had
never had my "pussy" eaten before, except for that time with Helen, but
this was different than that.  These were not the feelings of a woman
being eaten by a Lesbian that I was feeling.  I was being treated to
feeling the way a man would eat a "pussy" before I actually had a real
"pussy" of my own.  Dan was not giving me a blow-job.  He was still
treating me as the woman I was.  He was eating my "pussy!"

Dan was lying on his stomach between my legs.  The only part of him I
could reach from that position was his head.  I ran my fingers through
his curly hair, and moaned with sexual delight as he continued what he
was doing.  Dan licked all over my tiny balls.  It was as if the shaft
of my little penis was not there most of the time, and that was just
fine with me.  A few times he did lick his way up the shaft to its
head, but he never took it in his mouth except for holding the tip be-
tween his lips a couple of times in a kiss.  That also gave him the
chance to just touch the head with the tip of his tongue in the same
way that he might have flicked it at any woman's clit while he was
going down on her.

I was moaning and writhing on the bed all the way through it.  I might
not like getting blow-jobs, but I liked this!  I played with my small
breasts, and pinched my nipples for even more stimulation.  If Dan kept
this up long enough, I could take the orgasm that was building inside
of me all the way over the edge, and maybe even cum!

Then a feeling swept through my body.  It was not the sudden rush that
I sometimes felt when I came, but more of an all over warmth that fil-
led every fiber of my being, and built to a quivering excitement from
there.  At first I did not know what it was, but then the realization
hit me.  I was experiencing my first "womanly" orgasm.  I did not need
to cum like a man would.  Without shooting any semen, I had done that
already.  It felt very nice indeed.

Dan's tongue lapping at my groin started to kindle the fire of a sec-
ond orgasm, but it would take a while for that to build to climax.  For
all his authoritarian ways, Dan could be a patient and gentle lover,
but one need of his now would take precedence.  Even if his cock ap-
peared to be in a perpetual state of iron-hard erection, his balls ne-
eded time to recharge after shooting their cum in my mouth before they
were ready to discharge another load of semen.  Dan's next move told me
they were ready again.

Dan stopped licking my balls, and placed a kiss on the head of my lit-
tle penis, saying, "I want my cock in you!"  I started to reach for my
purse to get the tube of Vaseline that I kept in it, but Dan took no
notice of what I was doing.  He just got to a kneeling position on the
bed, and took hold of my hips.  His athletic strength soon had me on
all fours in front of him with my ass in the air, and my little penis
hanging down.  He was about to mount me from behind, but I called out,
"Hold on, baby.  I need to get lubricated first!"  He only replied,
"Don't worry.  I'll take care of that!," and brought his hand up to
spit a great load of saliva on the palm.  He rubbed this all over his
cock.

The extraordinary hardness of Dan's cock prodded at my anus.  The spit-
tle would work for some lubrication, but it was not the most pleasant
way of getting fucked in the ass.  Dan had to put some more on the end
of his prick to get the huge knob of a head in.  It hurt!  I like being
fucked, but Dan's cock was thicker than most of the cocks that had ever
found their way into my ass.  Then, even with the attempt at lubrica-
tion Dan had made, it was still very dry, and took a lot of effort to
work into me.  Dan gripped me by the hips, pulling me back with his
arms, and thrusting forward with his pelvis, while I buried my face
down into a pillow, pushing back toward him with my thigh muscles in an
attempt to get the discomfort of his entry over as quickly as possible.
It hurt!

It was only my ass that was being spread, but it felt like my whole
body was being spilt by a wedge.  Oh, but he was big back there!  At
last the forward progress of his enormous cock stopped, and we both
took a deep breath.  The hurt of his penetration subsided, and I twis-
ted my behind to receive him better.  It actually felt good to have him
in me that way.  I liked the feeling of Dan's monster cock in my ass.
The only problem was getting it in to where if felt this good.  We had
done that now.

Dan let me have those few seconds to get used to his presence in my
backside, and then started working on finishing the next of his needs.
Slowly, he started working his body back and forth causing his cock to
work its way in and out of my ass.  He held my hips tightly with his
hands, and just as her had used my head to jerk himself off earlier
when his cock was in my mouth, he now used my entire body as a tool for
his masturbation with his prick in my anus.  I had little or no control
over the situation.  I was only there to be used by him, but after all,
that was what being a whore was about.  I might get small scraps of
enjoyment from the things a client might do to me, but my needs were
always secondary.  He could have me any way he wished.  Luckily, most
of the things this client wished were just what I would have wished
too.  He fucked me just the way I liked to be fucked.

The more Dan's cock moved in and out of my ass, the more it became coa-
ted with the small amount of natural lubricant that is found there, and
the easier it went.  My anal opening also relaxed, and spread to accom-
modate him.  It was not long before the powerful thrusting of his loins
became easier to take, and the contortions of my face were out of ecs-
tasy rather than out of pain.  What he was doing to me felt very good
indeed.

Dan did not hold back anything when he fucked me.  Some men have to
rest a bit every few strokes to keep from ejaculating too quickly, but
Dan did not have that sort of trouble in any way.  He started slowly,
but soon was thrusting faster and faster into me.  The faster he moved,
the harder he pounded too.  Each stroke had more force behind it than
the last, and I pushed my contorted face into the pillow, digging my
fingers into it as well, to endure the pumping that Dan's huge cock was
giving my little ass.  This was not a gentle, easy fucking I was get-
ting, but in its own way, it felt ever so good!

Finally, Dan snapped bolt upright with his whole body.  His strong
hands pulled my hips back toward him quickly, burying the full length
of his incredibly hard and thick cock all the way into my ass.  He gave
out a loud, guttural, "Ohhh!," and I felt his cock throb once deep in-
side of me, shooting a hot load of semen into my bowels.  He held that
position for a moment, and surprisingly, I felt his cock throb a second
time.  Then he let out a long sigh, slid his cock out of my ass, and
lay on his back on the bed.  I collapsed on my side next to him, and we
just lay there.  The tiny trickle of semen that I could feel at my ass
told me that this call-girl had completed her work for this evening.

After a few minutes of lying there with my eyes closed, I felt Dan get
up.  I opened my eyes for a second to see him heading for the bathroom
to clean up.  My ass burned a little from the fucking it had just got-
ten, but that was part of the job.  It was not a bad job either.  Dan
might not be the sort of lover that I would prefer to go to bed with,
but he was not a bad lover, and he did take me to nice places before we
went to bed.  Being a call-girl was not all that bad.

Dan was only in the bathroom for a little while, and then it was my
turn.  I got out of bed as he came out, and saw that his unflagging
cock had finally gone soft.  It did not shrink back like other men's
cocks do, but remained at its full length just hanging down in front of
him.  We kissed each other affectionately as we passed, and I reached
down to give his cock a playful squeeze.  Dan returned the favor with
his own playful squeeze to my little penis.  I had not yet put it back
in its tuck.  I rectified that after I had cleaned up in the bathroom,
and returned to him with only the pubic hair of my "pussy" showing at
my crotch.

Dan had put on a pair of white pyjamas with blue stripes, and was lying
in the bed.  "Lay by me for a few minutes before you go?," he asked.  I
did not refuse, and he took me in his arms for a kiss.  "I like you,
Bobbi," he said sincerely.  "I hope you won't mind if I ask Helen to
set up more dates for us the next time I come to New York.  We'll have
fun."  I told him that I would not mind at all, and he kissed me again.
A few seconds later he said, "Good night, Bobbi," rolled with his back
to me, and went off to sleep.  Our date for that evening was officially
over.

I lay quietly on my back in the nude for a while until I was sure that
Dan was asleep.  Then I got up, and dressed as silently as I could.
This was all part of my instructions from Helen about Dan.  He might
like to cheat on his wife with a call-girl or two when he traveled, but
he was actually very religious in other ways.  Tomorrow was Sunday, and
he would go to Mass at St. Patrick's Cathedral as he always did in New
York City.  It would not be proper to wake up with any sort of prostit-
ute before Mass, so I had to leave now.  I did not mind.

It only took me about ten minutes to dress, and I was ready to go.  I
took one last look at Dan sleeping in the bed, and remembered the en-
velope he had left for me on the nightstand.  I put it in my purse.  I
wanted to know what was inside, but that would have to wait.  Silently,
I crossed the room, let myself out into the hall, and locked the door
behind me.  There was a house phone in the hall by the elevators, so I
called the Bell Captain to ask him to tell William that I was ready to
leave.  William had the limousine waiting at the hotel's front door
when I got there.

William held the door of the limousine for me to get in, and I noticed
that there was another girl getting the same service from the driver of
another limousine.  She was dressed very flashy, and looked ready to go
out on some sort of date.  She also glanced over to me, and gave me a
knowing smile.  I smiled back.  I guess I was not the only call-girl
working at the New York Hilton that night.  This same scene was prob-
ably being played out at lots of hotels all over town.

I settled back into the seat in the limousine for the ride home.  It
was almost two o'clock in the morning, and the streets were filled with
their usual throng of Manhattanites, wending their way home after a
typical Saturday night of merrymaking.  The streets of New York City
never really get quiet.  I opened my purse, and took out the envelope
that Dan had given me.  Inside was a typewritten note that read, "Thank
you for a wonderful evening.  I hope we can do it again soon."  The
note was not signed.  I guess Dan did not want to leave anything around
that might be traced to him.  Along with the note were two brand-new
twenty-dollar bills, and a brand-new ten.  Dan had given me a fifty-
dollar tip.  Helen said that the girls usually got a twenty-dollar tip,
so he must have liked me a lot.  "Did you have a nice evening, Miss
Bobbi?," said William through the intercom.  "Yes, William," I replied.
"I had a very nice evening indeed."

William waited in the limousine by the curb until I was safely inside
my apartment building since Thomas, the doorman, had gone off-duty by
the time we got there.  The apartment was also dead quiet when I went
in.  Edith and Sarah had gone to bed hours ago.  I went straight to my
room, and changed into a pink lace baby-doll nightie.  Snuggling down
under the covers, I thought about tonight, and the thoughts were very
good.  Being a call-girl was fun.  I had also made almost one-hundred
fifty dollars that night on just one date.  That was better than I had
ever done turning a whole night of tricks at "The Gilded Grape."  The
only problem was that I could not do it every night.  I needed a steady
job as well, and I would have to find one this week.

That, however, was a problem for another time.  Tomorrow might be Sun-
day, but Edith and Sarah were early risers anyway.  I would probably
not be able to sleep later than ten o'clock, but then, Edith's break-
fasts were worth getting up for.  I drifted off to sleep, thinking of
how good this evening had been.  This call-girl was no longer on call
tonight.


Sub-title: Help Wanted

Edith had given me a week of freedom before she would insist on me fin-
ding a real job, and that time was up.  There would be some modeling
assignments, and a few tricks as one of Helen's call-girls, but none of
that would provide a steady income yet.  The job of modeling coats was
for the coat company's spring line, and it would be four to six weeks
more before we actually started any shooting.  I could have just barely
existed on the money I could get out of these part-time jobs, including
paying rent to Edith, but only if I also turned at least four tricks a
week down at "The Gilded Grape."  That would not, however, leave any
money at all for such things as clothing, hormone shots, and saving for
my operation.  A real job was a real necessity.

My first problem was trying to decide on what kind of job I wanted.  It
had to be regular "nine-to-five" hours, or close to it, with weekends
off, so that I could do all the things in my life like dance classes,
doctor's appointments, and Friday/Saturday night assignments from
Helen.  It had to be flexible enough to allow me to take a day or two
off once in a while for modeling assignments.  It could not involve any
real degree of manual labor because of the demands of photographic mod-
eling to keep my hands and body free of marks from accident or strain.
Lastly, it should be in Manhattan, so that I would be reasonably close
to all the things I had to do.  There were not many jobs that fit into
those criteria, but I to have a place to start from.

The next part of this was to decide on what jobs I was qualified for.
The jobs I had in the past were not much good as training.  Before be-
ing a stock-boy at the department store, I had swept floors in an dress
factory, and worked as a general clerk in the office of a glass shop in
my home neighborhood.  I could not use those as references either.  Few
employers will hire a girl, no matter how qualified she is, if all of
her references say she is a boy.  They usually do not take it as a joke
either.  I would have to start off as a girl trying to get her very
first job.  The only qualification I had was a typing and filing class
I had taken in high school that taught me to type twenty words a min-
ute, and how to alphabetize file cards.  It was a very slim portfolio,
but it was all I had to go on.

It seemed like there were only two options open to me.  I could be a
salesgirl in a store of some kind.  That would give me all I needed,
except that the hours would not be quite what I wanted, but jobs like
that were relatively easy to get.  I could also work in an office as a
receptionist or file clerk with some light typing on the side.  The
problem there would be in taking time off for modeling assignments if I
needed to, but the pay would be better than working in a store.  In any
case, those two areas of endeavor looked like my best possibilities.

"My, but you're so deep in thought this morning," came Edith's voice to
jar me out of my reverie.  "Care to share what you're thinking about?"
I had been sitting at the kitchen table, sipping coffee, and staring
out the window at the shreds of sunrise over Long Island Sound that I
could see in the distance.  It was the morning of the Monday after my
date with Dan, and it had been my turn to make breakfast.  Sarah was
just coming in to have her breakfast too.  I was still in my robe and
slippers, but Edith was already dressed to go to work.

"Oh, nothing much," I replied.  "I was just thinking about what sort of
job I should get.  I think I'll go into The City, and start looking
today."  Edith poured some coffee, and sat down at the table with me.
"That's a good thought," she said.  "If you want some advice, I'd say
to buy The Times, and see what's in there before you go running all
over the place.  I still also say that you should try calling Paul, the
personnel manager that used to be with the department store, and see
what he has to say.  You told me he liked you, so he might be willing
to help."

Edith was always there with the motherly advice whether I wanted it or
not, but I did very much appreciate it most of the time.  Calling Paul
might be a good idea too.  He now worked for a very large company in
Manhattan on Park Avenue, and he might have something for me.  The only
trouble was that I might have to go back to being his part-time mis-
tress to get it.  That was not really so bad, but I would have liked to
get away from using sex to get what I wanted.  "Maybe he would not want
that anymore," I thought, knowing full well that I was kidding myself.

"Thanks," I said to Edith.  "I'll do it.  I shouldn't be late coming
home tonight, but I may have a rehearsal for the G.G.Girls tomorrow.
We should have a show to do on Saturday night at the club."  A sly grin
crossed Edith's face, and she said, "If you do, can I come to the show?
I've never seen you dance on stage, and I think I'd like to."  This
took me by surprise.  I just could not imagine proper Edith sitting in
the audience with all the campy drag queens, but I knew if she asked
like this, her mind was made up to do it.  "Sure," I said.  "I'll even
get you a table down front."  Edith got up to leave for work.  "That
would be nice," she said.

Edith left for work, and I went to my room, leaving Sarah in the kit-
chen to finish her coffee.  It was quite normal for us to do that.
Sarah was a very independent lady.  I am sure that came of the years of
struggle in her homeland of Estonia, and the restless wandering across
half of the world that she and Edith had done for the last thirty years
or so.  I never knew all that much about Sarah in Estonia before Edith
was born.  I knew that she came from an upper class family, and had
been well educated at a famous European university.  I knew that she
was married to an officer in the Russian army under the Czar, and that
her family had not approved of the marriage, but I was not clear, at
that time, as to if this had been Edith's father.  Sarah was, and al-
ways has been, a mystery to me.  I only wish I had taken the time to
learn more while I was with her.

It only took me a little while to change from my robe and nightie into
something suitable for job hunting.  My dark blue dress with the high
neckline and three-quarter sleeves seemed best for this purpose.  This
might have been the era of the mini-skirt, but there were better ways
to dress for a job interview.  I like showing off my body, but I did
not want to appear as some little chippie who would spend most of her
time by the water cooler flirting with the office-boy.  The dress had a
skirt that fell to just the top of my knees.  That would show enough to
get the personnel manager interested, but not enough to get him to make
a pass at me.

The dress had a little trim of white lace at the neckline and cuffs,
and a white leather belt, so white leather pumps with three inch heels
were the order of the day along with a white leather handbag.  Red lip-
stick was my favorite, but I did not want to come on that strong.  A
dark shade of pink did the job nicely, and did went fine with the clear
nail polish that I had used to do my nails on Sunday.  It was still
only eight-thirty in the morning when I emerged from my room for my day
of job hunting.

"That's for you from Edith," said Sarah pointing to something on the
kitchen table.  "She said Thomas get it for you."  On the table was a
copy of today's New York Times.  Edith had apparently sent Thomas, the
doorman, to get it, and bring it up here while I was dressing.  At
least she had not told him to open it to the "help wanted" ads, but the
message was still clear.  Edith was pushing, but she had good reason to
push.  It was what I needed, and she knew it.  I had always needed some
sort of push to get me to do anything.  I did not know why that was.
Maybe if I had been different, things would have gone in another direc-
tion.  There is no way of knowing.  I do know, however, that no matter
how much it annoyed me at times, Edith was there to give me the mother-
ly push I needed, and no matter how much it annoyed me at times, I was
always grateful afterwards that she had been there to do it.  Now was
no exception.

The "help wanted" ads that I felt I could confidently answer were few.
Most of what was in the newspaper specified that experience at the job
was necessary.  Those are the most daunting words that any job hunter
can see.  That is especially true for someone like me who was looking
for their "first" job.  How does one get experience if no one will hire
you in the first place?  That is actually a rationalization, for there
are many entry level jobs available, but they are not always advertised
in the newspaper.  They are found through schools, personal referrals,
and word of mouth.  My problem was that I did not seem to have any ac-
cess to those sources.  The newspaper was my only doorway into the job
market.

I did manage to find five ads that appeared as if I might fit the jobs
they described.  Three were from stores looking for salesgirls, and two
were office jobs.  All were in mid-town Manhattan either in the Times
Square or the Rockefeller Center areas, so I could get to all the other
things in my life easily if I got one of them.  I cut the ads out of
the newspaper, and tucked them into my purse.  It was time to head into
The City, and get started.

It was not about ten minutes after nine, so I thought I might take the
chance of trying to phone Paul to see if he could help.  Edith had
given me the name of the large chemical company on Park Avenue that he
now worked for, so I called information to get the number.  A few min-
utes later I was asking the switchboard operator at the chemical com-
pany for his extension.  A female voice then said, "Hello?"  "Yes," I
replied, "is Paul there?"  Her voice was very businesslike as she said,
"No, I'm sorry, but Paul won't be in until Wednesday.  May I take a
message?"  I gave her my name and number, saying that I wanted to apply
for a job, and she said Paul would get back to me.  I thanked her, and
hung up.  I would have to wait a few days to see if Paul could, or even
would help me.

"You going out now?," asked Sarah when she saw me putting on my coat.
"Yes," I replied.  "I'm going out to start looking for a job.  I won't
be too late tonight, so I should see you at dinner later.  Wish me
good luck!"  Sarah shook her head.  "I pray for you instead," she said.
"It's better than luck."  Sarah was a grandmother clear to the bone.  I
finished adjusting my coat, primped my hair one last time, and headed
out the door.  "Bye, grandma," I called as I left.  "Have a good day,
grandchild," she replied as the door closed.

It was only a few blocks to the subway station, so I walked there quic-
kly.  This part of Queens was a nice sort of neighborhood for New York
City.  It was a bit like the towns in Hudson County, New Jersey that I
had grown up in.  That was not at all surprising.  Hudson County is on
the west bank of the Hudson River across from Manhattan, and the Boro
of Queens is on the east bank of the East River across from Manhattan.
The two places flank the downtown areas of Manhattan Island like a pair
of bookends.  It only follows that they should be alike in many res-
pects.  It was, however, very different from living in mid-town Manhat-
tan the way I had when I shared the apartment with Margo.  I liked liv-
ing here in Queens a lot better.

The subway was not crowded when I got there, but it was well after the
rush-hour, and our stop was almost at the end of the line.  I too a
seat, and was enveloped in the never ending roar that filled every tun-
nel, station, and car of the New York City Subway System as the train
jerked into motion, and plunged through the thick, grimy blackness of
the vein-like network of tunnels that stretched like the web of a de-
mented spider, beneath the streets of The City and its Boros, unifying
the polyglot of neighborhoods that make it up, into one, at least semi-
coherent, municipal entity.  I received a few passing glances from my
fellow riders as we went along, but those were merely a lustful look or
two, or an attempt to determine if I posed a threat of some sort or
not.  It was all quite normal for a subway ride.

Before long, I found myself out of the subway, and working through the
throng and push of the mid-town Manhattan crowds on my way to the first
job opportunity of the five I had chosen.  That was an office job as a
file clerk and typist for a music publisher in the Brill Building on
Broadway at 51st Street.  I told the receptionist why I had come, and
she just handed me a job application, telling me to fill it out.  About
twenty minutes after I had finished, I was escorted to see the Office
Manager.  The interview did not take long at all.  There was just some-
thing in the way he handled it that told me they were looking for some-
one with more office skills and experience than I had.  The Office Man-
ager's eyes, however, did not leave my legs for the whole time I was
there.  He might not have been interested in my office skills, but
there were other skills that I was adept at that he was very much in-
terested in.  At the end of the interview, he gave me the standard lie
about having other applicants to see before he made a final decision.
I thanked him, and left.  Job hunting is just not fun.

My second stop was a large stationary store on one of the side streets
between Times Square and Rockefeller Center.  It took me fifteen min-
utes to find someone who was not too busy to tell me where I could find
the store manager.  Then it was still another fifteen minutes to find
him.  When I finally got to talk to him, all he said was, "Sorry, but
the job is taken," and abruptly went back to his work.  That was two
down, and three to go.

The other office job was in one of the Rockefeller Center buildings as
a clerk/typist for a large, western railroad in their east coast,
freight traffic office.  Again I filled out an application with the
receptionist, and she gave me a typing test.  Then she told me that the
Chief Clerk, who would have to interview me, was on a sudden business
trip to the main office in Omaha that week, and that he would call any
applicants that he wanted to see next week.  I left to try the next
place on my list.

Just outside of the Rockefeller Center area, on a side street off of
5th Avenue, was the next stop of the five I had picked.  The classified
advertisement had said that it was a fashionable ladieswear shop, and
it looked like it might have been fashionable in the depression, but
not since.  A look through the windows told me that the store's very
existence depended more on the inertia of the owner in not disturbing
his state of rest long enough to put up a "Closed" sign, than from any
influx of customers.  The fixtures were old and out of date, and the
display was unimaginative.  The owner, or at least an old man who
looked like he was, sat in a chair by the cash register while a woman
of about his age pretended to be busy by fiddling with the stock.  I
did not bother to go in.  I needed a job, but not here.  I was not that
desperate yet.

The last place on my list was a boutique for a world famous design
label in a store on 5th Avenue near 55th Street.  This was more to my
taste than any of the others.  It was clean, elegant, and very up-mar-
ket.  If I got any job today, this was the one I wanted it to be.  A
salesman showed me the way to the manager's office, and I filled out
another application.  The manager and I talked for a while in a sort of
interview until at last he said, "Well, Bobbi, we were hoping for some-
one with some experience, but we might do a trainee...  if she had the
right...  qualifications."  His eyes wandered from my legs to my chest
all the time he talked, and fixed on my breasts as he said "qualifica-
tions" with a wry smile.  If that was the way to get a job, I would
give it a try.  I leaned over toward him, so he could see a little fur-
ther down the front of my dress, and said, "You know all the qualifica-
tions I have now.  I can perform an the job too."  He nodded.  "We make
a decision by Friday," he said.  "I'll call you then."  I stood to
leave, and said, "I hope so.  I'd really like working under you."  Then
I turned quickly, and left.  I know he was watching the jiggle of my
backside as I walked away.

That was the end of my list for today.  I started walking back down 5th
Avenue with no particular purpose in mind.  My wristwatch said it was
about three o'clock.  I only had to be home when Edith got there around
five-forty-five, so there was lots of time to kill.  I liked window-
shopping on 5th Avenue, so that is what I did.  I just killed an hour
or so walking down the street, and drifting in and out of the stores.
I got lots of admiring glances from the men as I walked, and I liked
that.  About twenty minutes after four, I found myself on the west side
of 5th Avenue, between 37th and 38th Streets.  I was in front of the
department store where Edith worked, and from which I had recently been
fired.  On a whim, I walked in.  I would meet Edith, and go home with
her.

It seemed strange to be in the store again.  It all looked so familiar,
and yet there was something very different about it.  I knew every
department and stockroom in the building because I had been in each of
them at one time or another during the time I had been there, but then,
I had never been there in a dress before.  The last time I was in the
store, I had been just one of the lowly stockboys who hauled things
from stockroom to selling floor and back again.  Little notice was ever
taken of us except in the breech when we got in the way, or neglected
something.  Now I was a potential female customer to be waited on, and
sold to.

There was nothing moralistic in the distinction between stockboy and
female customer.  Neither role was more or less right to play when set
against the overall system of right and wrong in our society.  They
were just very different, and it was interesting for me to compare
those differences.  Few of us ever get to see two sides of a situation
on a first person basis the way I now could.  More than anything else,
I counted myself quite fortunate at that moment.

I was a little concerned that Edith would leave before she knew I was
there.  Then I saw one of the floor-walkers leaning on his desk.  I
recognized him as one who had worked on the same floor as I had for a
little while.  He had never liked me, seeing me as just a "queer," and
quite below his own social standing.  Feeling very brazen, I walked
over to him, and asked if he would help me.  His eyes got big, and I
thought for a moment he had recognized me too, but the drift of his
eyes from my chest to my ankles along with the expression of lust that
glinted in them, told me that his mind was on things other than the
little "faggot" stockboy who had bothered him so much.

He was both professionally and personally eager to do all he could for
me, so I asked if he would phone Edith in her office, and tell her that
her "daughter" would meet her at the employee's entrance on her way
out.  "Her daughter?," he said.  "I didn't know Edith had a daughter,
and such a lovely one at that."  I smiled sweetly, and said, "Well...
I'm not actually her 'daughter.'  I'm a very close friend, and she
sometimes calls me that.  My name is Bobbi."  The stars were growing in
his eyes, no matter how ironical that was.  "That's a pretty name," he
said.  "Could I show you anything after I call Edith for you?"  With a
toss of my head, I replied, "No...  Not this time anyway.  I'll be back
when I have more time to spend letting you show me around."  He started
dialing the phone, and said, "I hope so.  I'm sure I have some things
you might like."  I walked away wondering if he would ever know the
truth of what just happened.  Seeing things from both sides was cer-
tainly an enlightening experience.

I walked almost aimlessly through the store for a while, and stopped at
a few counters to look over merchandise that I already knew well.  Now
I could look at it as something to buy, and not just another load of
stock to be moved.  I even bought a couple of scarfs that I particu-
larly liked.

My walking took me to the floor where the children's departments were,
and past the children's shoes department at the end of the floor by the
elevators where I used to work.  Just to have a longer look there, I
picked up a knit slipper from a display as if to admire it.  Mrs. Ad-
ams, always quick to grab a sale, appeared as if from nowhere, and
said, "May I help you?"  With a mildly disdainful look, I said, "No, I
don't think so.  These vile things would never do for my niece.  The
material is just too coarse for her tender skin," and walked away with
a flip of my hips that got a few stares from two salesmen in the boy's
clothing department across the aisle.

I could hear the little bang of Mrs. Adams' sales-book being thrown on
a counter as I walked away.  That was her signal that a customer had
annoyed her in some way.  It sounded like music to me.  I knew that
what I had said would bother her.  She loved those ridiculous knit
slippers for some reason, and Mr. Conlin, the buyer, had given her
buying responsibility for them.  I think they were called Mukluks, or
something like that, but they were absolutely awful.  They were the
sort of thing that were given on Christmas by maiden aunts to children
whom they saw only once a year.  While they were auntie's dream gift,
they were a kid's, any kid's, nightmare.  I had a picture in my mind of
Mrs. Adams' family on Christmas.  All were wearing last year's batch of
Mukluks while eagerly awaiting her arrival with a new shipment wrapped
in paper covered with syrupy sweet Christmas images of Mickey Mouse
perched on Santa's sleigh.  I always thought about that whenever I ne-
eded to throw up.

It was just about closing time for the store, so I made my way down to
the first floor again.  I went out through the front door on 5th Avenue
turning left to 38th Street where the employee's entrance was.  The
usual tiny crowd of departing employees and people meeting them was
gathering around this side door to the building, and I joined them to
wait for Edith to come out.  It would only be a few minutes.

I waved to her as Edith emerged from the door, and she came straight
over to me.  "Bobbi," she said in a tone that could have been either
surprise or mild annoyance, "what are you doing here?  I thought you
were looking for a job?"  "I was," I replied.  "I've been to five
places that I found in the paper today.  It started getting late, and I
was in the neighborhood, so I thought I'd see if you'd like to ride
home together."  Edith looked more at ease after I said that.  "What a
nice idea," she said pleasantly, and we walked to 5th Avenue.  "Let's
take a cab," she added.

The taxi, with us in its rear seat, was soon ensnared in the evening
version of the twice daily snarl of traffic that gripped mid-town Man-
hattan and the roads leading out from it as millions of people tried to
travel between where they worked and where they lived.  The subway
probably would have been a bit faster and a lot cheaper than the cab,
but this was more comfortable even if we did have to sit in traffic for
a while.  It would be nice to be able to commute this way every day,
but it was good as a treat too.  We just sat back, and enjoyed the
ride.

"How was work today?," I asked to make conversation.  "Oh, it was kind
of ordinary," Edith answered.  "Most of it was quiet, except for Mrs.
Adams.  She had some bee in her bonnet about her son-in-law when she
came in, and had the sales people going all day.  You know how she
gets.  She didn't start to get calmed down until well after lunch, and
then, just before closing, some customer said something that set her
off again."  I gave a sly smile.

"What did the customer say?," I asked.  "I don't know," Edith replied,
"but Alicia said it was something about her blessed slipper display."
I was laughing now.  "That was me," I said.  "YOU!," Edith exclaimed.
"Yes," I replied through my laughter.  "I told her that her Mukluks
were vile and coarse things that irritated the skin, and made the per-
son wearing them look foolish.  I thought that would get her."  Edith
was shaking her head, and laughing a little too.  "It did, and I'm bet-
ting she takes it out on her son-in-law tonight.  You took a big chance
of being recognized, you know.  Alicia said that she couldn't place
her, but the customer looked familiar from somewhere.  She might have
given you away."  I cocked my head to one side, and said, "Maybe... but
she didn't!"  We both laughed.

"How did the job hunting go?," Edith asked.  "Not bad for a first day,"
I answered.  "I went to five places, and two of those said they might
call me back for a second interview.  The others were the pits anyway,
but I really didn't like any of them.  I'll check the paper again to-
morrow."  Edith shook her head, and said, "The ads won't be any differ-
ent.  Tomorrow you just go to all the big offices, and put in an appli-
cation.  They are always turning over people, so they will call you
sometime, and they don't always advertise unless they need some special
talents."  She was right as usual.  I was lucky to have a "mother' who
was so smart.

The skyscrapers of The City soon dropped behind us, and we drew closer
to home.  "Did you call Paul?," asked Edith.  "I tried," I answered
with a sigh.  "He wasn't in his office, but I left a message, and his
secretary said she would ask him to call.  I don't know about him,
though."  Edith looked puzzled.  "Why?  He seemed like a nice enough
guy to me," she said.  "Yes," I replied, "but...  Look, mom, please
don't tell this to anyone, but Paul keeps trying to seduce me.  He is
not really Gay, but he isn't Straight either.  He had me in his office
at the store, and if I ask him for a job, he might want more as a sort
of payment of some kind.  I like sex well enough, but I'm not sure I
want to get that involved with him again."

I was expecting Edith to be shocked, but there was only a motherly
smile on her face.  "I didn't know it had gone that far," she said,
"but that's all right.  You can talk to me about things like that, you
know.  I know about it.  I'm not a virgin myself, and we are friends.
Friends don't judge friends, so I wouldn't criticize you."  Edith tur-
ned on the seat to face me. and said, "Look, Bobbi, women have to do a
lot of things to get what they want.  Even with all this Women's Lib
talk that's going around now, men still control things.  The secret is
to learn how to control men.  What a man might want from you as a woman
doesn't have to be what he gets from you.  Give him only what you can
give him, but if you just don't say that you're not giving him the
rest, he will still keep coming back for more.  Do you understand what
I mean?"

I did understand.  I understood more about myself, more about Edith,
and more about being a woman.  Edith was always just a little bit wiser
than I would at first give her credit for at any moment.  She gave the
impression of being a sweet, middle-aged lady, but inside beat the
fiery heart of a philosopher.  I liked being around her.

                                == * ==

The smell of coffee wafting into my room finished the job that my alarm
clock had started a few minutes earlier.  I really did not want to get
up, but I still had some job hunting to do.  Had it been up to me, I
would have taken today to just be lazy, but Edith would not have let me
do that.  She had told me that I needed to find a job soon, so I had to
work at it.  My "mom" was sweet and gentle in a lot of ways, but she
could be a stern task-mistress when she wanted to be.  This was one of
those times she wanted to be.

I dragged myself out of bed, and put a robe over the skimpy, baby-doll
nightie that I had slept in.  I did not have to dress for breakfast,
and I was going to go back to bed for a little while after Edith left
anyway.  The only job hunting I was going to do today was putting in
applications at some of the larger companies in Manhattan.  I also had
a rehearsal for the G.G.Girls chorus line this evening, so I would not
leave until just after lunch, go to two or three offices in mid-town to
put in applications, and then directly to "The Gilded Grape" for the
rehearsal.  I ran my fingers through my hair to straighten it enough
for breakfast, and headed for the kitchen.

Sarah was in the kitchen, and poured me a cup of coffee when I arrived.
"Drink," she said.  "You will feel more of awake.  You are not getting
dressed?  You are not going into The City today?"  I took a sip of cof-
fee, and said, "Later, grandma.  I'm going in later to look for a job,
and I've got a dance rehearsal tonight, so I'll be a little late."
Sarah nodded, and poured a third cup of coffee.  I turned to see Edith
coming in for her breakfast.  "Try not to be too late at rehearsal,
dear," she said.  "You may have to get up early again tomorrow.  Job
hunting is not something you should let up on if you're serious about
it.  It's good to do some every day until you find one.  It's the only
way."  Edith would not say anything that was directly critical of me,
so that was her way of reminding me that I had to keep on looking for a
job.  She obviously thought I should be out doing that this morning,
and was mildly displeased that I was waiting until after lunch.  She
was probably right, but I just wanted to stay home this morning.  Some-
thing inside said it was right to do it.

Edith left for work, and I headed back to my bedroom.  I do not think I
actually slept, but I lay there for a couple of hours in a sort of
daze, thinking about everything and nothing, and dozing on and off.
Around ten-thirty I heard the telephone ring, and a moment later Sarah
at the door to my room, saying, "Bobbi, a man is wanting to talk on the
phone.  He say his name is Paul."

In a flash I was up, and pulling my robe on again.  I had not expected
to hear from Paul until tomorrow.  A minute later I had the telephone
in my hand, and said, "Hello?," into the receiver as sweetly as I
could.  "Hi, cutie," Paul's voice replied, "what's up?  I didn't expect
you to, err... call me.  What can I do to, err... for you?"  I caught
his joke, but passed it off.  We caught up on a little news first, and
then I asked him, "Paul, I need to ask you something.  I need a job.
You helped me once already with the modeling job, but I need something
almost full-time to fill in.  Can you give me some ideas of what to
do?"

"A job, eh?," he said.  "As a woman?"  I told him that it would have to
be, so I could do my Real Life Test properly.  "Hmmm...," he said.
"There might be something.  Can you, err... come to my office today?  I
don't know yet, but I, err... might be able to help if you look and act
as much, err... like a real woman as you did the last time I saw you.
We started working, err... well together, if you recall our, err... ar-
rangement.  Maybe there is something I can do.  Can you, err...  type?"

I remembered our "arrangement" all too well.  Paul was not bad as a
lover, but that just was not the sort of thing I wanted to do just to
get and hold a job.  I did, however, need a job.  I needed it to live,
but I also needed a job as a woman.  It would not be easy to get one
with no references from other jobs as a woman.  Even if I had to put up
with Paul's sexual advances to get a job, it might be worth it just to
get things started.  That way I would have a reference for any other
job I might move to.  The other five places I had gone to did not seem
all that promising.  If Paul could get me a job, then that would be a
start.

"I can type about twenty words a minute, but I haven't had much prac-
tice lately," I answered.  "That's, err... fine," he said flatly.  "You
come to my office, err... about two o'clock, and we'll, err... see what
we can do.  Wear, err... something pretty.  A lot of people might be,
err... seeing you."  We exchanged a few more pleasantries, and hung up.

I sat in the chair by the telephone for a few minutes to think.  It was
obvious that Paul had a job for me in mind already.  It was also ob-
vious that he expected a few sexual favors in return for it.  At least
he would not, and could not come here with Edith and Sarah around.  He
would probably want me in his office, though.  I went to dress in some-
thing pretty for him.  It was time to go to work.

The subway was noisy as usual, but it was getting me where I needed to
be.  The dark blue dress I wore got quite a few looks from my fellow
riders even if it was mostly covered by my coat.  I guess the short
skirt the dress had could account for some of that.  It was getting
into the late fall, and the skirt was perhaps a little shorter than I
would be wearing as the weather turned progressively colder, but it was
just fun to wear it.  The hem came to a tiny bit more than an inch
above my knee.  I have good legs, and I do not mind showing them off.
A number of the men in the subway car were very appreciative of that.

The building on Park Avenue that was owned by the company Paul worked
for was only a few blocks from the Lexington Avenue Line subway station
so it took little time for me to walk there.  It was a large chemical
company, and their building had won some architectual awards when it
was built.  Park Avenue was also a good neighborhood to work in.  It
was very high class, and close enough to all the places I had to go for
dance class and modeling.  I sort of hoped I would be working here even
with my "arrangement" with Paul.  It would fit in with the rest of my
life nicely.

"May I help you?," said the Personnel Department's receptionist when I
approached her desk.  I set the Kelly green canvas bag that held my
dancing clothes for the G.G.Girls rehearsal later that evening on the
table in the reception area, and told her that I was here to see Paul.
She picked up a telephone, spoke for a moment, and then said as she
hung up, "He says for you to fill out one of our applications here, and
then I'll take you back."  She handed me a clipboard with an applica-
tion form on it, and I sat to fill it out.  I thought this could be a
good sign.  If Paul was having me fill out an application, then he
might have a job for me here.  It was either that or a ruse to throw
the receptionist off the real reason he wanted to get me into his of-
fice alone.  I would find out the answer very soon.

After I had finished the application, I handed it back to the recep-
tionist.  "You just got to take a typing test before we go back," she
said with the music of Brooklyn echoing in her voice.  She directed me
to a desk on one side of the reception area.  The desk had an electric
typewriter on it, and I got things ready for the test.  She handed me
the text I was supposed to type, and I worked the keys feverishly for
five minutes.  She took what I had typed, put it with my application,
and said, "Now we can go back to see Paul.  Follow me."  I retrieved my
canvas bag and coat, and walked after her down a short hall to Paul's
office.  The door was open, and she walked straight in, handing my form
to Paul.  I stepped in too, and she left, closing the door behind her.

"Hi, cutie!," Paul said excitedly after the door had closed.  He walked
over, and kissed me in greeting.  I kissed back.  I did like him as a
friend anyway.  "You look great!," he said.  "Sit down.  Sit down.
Relax.  We've got, err... lots of time to talk.  You sort of surprised
me by, err... calling.  I thought I wasn't going to hear from those
gorgeous lips of your's again.  What can I do, err... for you?"  There
was only one thing I wanted him to do for me.  "I need a job," I said.
"Sure sure, cutie," he said, "but can't we talk, err... about some
other things first?  We've got, err... a lot of catching up to do."  I
knew what he wanted to catch up on.  "I'd really rather talk about the
job first," I said.  "Then maybe we can relax."

Paul looked a little exasperated, but not angry.  He sat down behind
his desk, and started reading my application.  He said nothing, but
after a few minutes, he started going over my typing test.  He took out
a file folder, wrote some things on the form inside, and put my appli-
cation and typing test in it.  He filled out another form, and said,
"You start Monday morning at nine o'clock.  Report here then, and I'll
take you to an orientation class, and then to your job.  Here's your
hiring form.  Your starting salary is on it."

He handed me the last form he had filled out.  The form said "Recep-
tionist" in the box marked Job Title, and the starting salary as a bit
more than I had been making as a stockboy.  I looked further, and found
the box marked Sex.  There was a big, glorious "F" where all my prev-
ious employment forms had shown an "M."  I had made it!  I had a real
job as a woman, but what would Paul want for it?

"What do I have to do?," I asked.  "Work hard, and be a good employee,"
he said.  "You're our new fourth floor receptionist.  That's the Traf-
fic Department.  You greet visitors, err... answer the phone, type a
little, and, err... look pretty.  That's all.  I know, err... what
you're thinking, and that's not, err... the case.  I had a job opening,
and you meet the, err... qualifications.  That's all.  If there's,
err... anything more between us, that's just as, err... friends.  Your
new job, err... doesn't depend on it.  Okay?"  My estimation of Paul
went up a lot.  I had the job I wanted, and a friend too.  This was all
working out very well.

"That's... it?," I asked.  "I got the job?"  Paul stood in front of me,
and replied, "That's it.  I like helping friends.  It isn't much of a
job, but you can't expect, err... big things on your first job, err...
ever, Miss."  He was playing a little happy game with me.  Of course I
had worked before, but I had filled out my application as if I were
really a young woman looking for her very first job.  Paul was just
sweetly going along with that.  He was just being a good friend.

I was not sure what to say.  "I'm so happy, I could kiss you!," I said.
"I, err... wouldn't say no," answered Paul.  I stood, and pressed my
lips to his, letting my arms snake about his neck to embrace him.  His
arms enfolded me, and pulled me close.  I could feel his cock stiffen-
ing against my thigh, so I parted my lips to allow our tongues some
room to play.  I did not have to do this.  The job was mine with no
strings attached, but something in me just wanted to.  Perhaps it was
the excitement of getting a job as a woman at last.  Perhaps it was the
fact that I was beginning to be accepted as the woman I am by the
world.  Perhaps I just liked Paul, and wanted to show that to him.  I
do not know.  I just knew it felt right, and I wanted to do it.

Paul's hands were roaming all over my body, and the pressure of his
cock against my thigh was increasing.  "I can't, err... spend too much,
err... time with you," he said breathing heavily.  "That's all right,"
I replied.  "We've always found a way in the past.  Sit down."  He sat
in his chair, and I dropped to my knees in front of him.  "This won't
take very long," I said in my sweetest tone, looking up at him.  I un-
buckled his belt, and pulled down the zipper of his fly.  "Up just a
tiny bit, lover," I said, and soon had his pants at his ankles.  The
sight of the bulge in his briefs made my own little penis twitch in its
tuck back between my legs in my crotch, and I took hold of the elastic
waistband with my fingers.  "Up one more time," I said, and when he
did, I tugged his briefs down too.

Paul's hard cock pointed straight at my face, and I lost no time in
making the most of that.  I opened my mouth to take the whole shaft in
at once, letting my lips slide smoothly along the entire length until I
felt the head bump the back of my throat.  I held it that way for a
moment, rubbing my tongue against it the whole time, and then slowly
withdrew it from my mouth, letting my lips again run along the entire
length until the head left my mouth with a tiny pop.  I placed the tip
of my tongue at the base of the glans, and trailed it down the under-
side of Paul's cock, all the way to his balls.  I licked his balls all
over, getting them as wet as I could, and gently nibbling at his scro-
tum.  I could hear Paul softly moaning with pleasure all the while.

I returned my mouth to the tip of Paul's cock, but let my long finger-
nails continue to excite his balls.  I flicked my tongue, and licked
all around the head in the same way I had just done to his balls.  Then
I took the shaft back into my mouth.  Paul's hands gripped my head, and
pushed it down on his cock.  It went willingly.  I started to work his
cock in and out of my mouth by bobbing my head up and down with a lit-
tle help from Paul's hands.

Suddenly, he held my head still, and I knew what was going to happen.
I heard him moan deeply, and felt the slow flowing of his cum filling
my oral cavity.  Paul never came in spurts, but in one long flow.  It
usually filled my entire mouth, but this time was more copious than
ever.  I had to swallow twice to keep from loosing any, or having it
run out of my nose!  I held the last bit of it in my mouth as I let
Paul's cock slip from my lips.  Then I swallowed that too.  It was a
pleasant feeling to have his cum in my tummy.

I stood, and took a few moments to adjust my clothes back to normal.
Paul did not move.  I took my seat in his side-chair again, and took
out my compact and lipstick to fix my hair and make-up.  It was a few
minutes before Paul wiped off his cock with some tissues, and got his
briefs and pants back up.  Soon we looked just like any other two peo-
ple sitting in an office.

"You didn't, err... have to do that," Paul said at last.  "I know," I
replied.  "I just wanted to.  I was once supposed to be your mistress,
wasn't I?"  Paul nodded.  "Yes," he said, "you were, but I, err...
thought you might not want to, err... be anymore."  "Well," I said, "I
don't have an apartment we can use anymore, but we can go out once in a
while if you like.  We are friends."  Paul smiled, and said, "You're an
interesting woman, Bobbi.  I, err... don't know how to say what, err...
you are, but you're, err... not like anyone else I've, err... ever met.
I'll see you on Monday morning.  Don't, err... be late."

I kissed him one last time, and left.  I was really feeling good about
myself.  I passed into the throng of office workers on Park Avenue,
knowing that I had just joined their ranks.  I turned onto one of the
side streets, heading west toward 5th Avenue, and the shops that lined
it.  It was only about three-thirty, and the G.G.Girls rehearsal would
not start until six or seven.  I had some time to kill before I had to
be there, so there was only one sensible thing to do: go shop-ping!  I
love to shop, and my new job would soon give me some money to buy as
well.

I did not buy anything at the shops, but it was just fun being there.
The high heels of my shoes clicked happily on the pavement as I walked
along.  I had come a long way.  A short time ago I was a stockboy in
jeans, living at home, and sneaking around to dress secretly in my
mother's and sister's clothes.  Now I was a very female appearing re-
ceptionist for a major chemical company, walking on 5th Avenue in a
mini-skirt and heels, and turning male heads for blocks around with the
wiggle in my hips.  Before, I was only a stockboy who was discretely
homosexual with a few men.  Now, I was a model who was also a dancer,
and a pre-operative transexual call-girl with anyone who wished to rent
her sexual favors.  As a boy I was unhappy and moody with no interest
in anything in particular.  As a girl I was finding ways of becoming
all the things I could be, and feeling better about it each day.

I had not realized the road I was starting to walk that first night
Margo talked me into going out in public in drag, but now I was glad I
had started to walk it.  I had always felt more like a girl than a boy,
and I now knew why.  I was finally being accepted as the woman I really
was.  I had just gotten a job as a woman, and was making a woman's life
for myself.  Things were working out very well.

It actually felt a little strange to walk into "The Gilded Grape" that
evening.  This was where I had started my climb to womanhood, but I had
gone beyond this now.  This was where the Transvestites who did not
always pass well in public could come, and be accepted for what they
were.  I did not need that.  I was accepted as the woman I really was
in virtually any situation.  I almost felt uncomfortable here.  I liked
being in the G.G.Girls chorus line, but the time was coming soon when I
should move on.  I was almost out of place here.  I thought I should
talk to Tina about it soon.

I waved a greeting to Edie at the front bar, and told her I would be in
the dressing room if anyone was looking for me.  I did not feel like
sitting at the bar, and being hit on by the Bisexual men who came in
for a drink on their way home from work.  The others would be here soon
enough, and there would be some good "girl talk" in the dressing room
when they arrived.  In the dressing room, I stripped to my bra and pan-
ties, putting my dress in my locker, and wrapping myself in a long,
blue, satin robe.  I took a fashion magazine out of my bag to read
until the others got there, and settled into a chair.

After a few minutes I started to hear some sounds.  The door to the
hallway was open a bit, and the sounds seemed to be coming from the bar
office across the hall.  I was in a mood for some talk, so I went to
see who it was.  The sounds got more distinct as I got closer to the
office, and it sounded like a series of deep, guttural moans.  I opened
the door to the office just enough to peek in.  I was not quite pre-
pared for what I saw.

Tina was on her back on the desk.  She was wearing a black lace bra
that had her wonderful breasts standing up on her chest even in her re-
clined position, and a black lace garter-belt that held up a pair of
black fishnet stockings on her legs.  Under the garter-belt were black
crotchless panties, and her huge penis was hard and pointing straight
up through the opening.  Toni was standing by the desk dressed in very
mannish attire.  Her pants were around her ankles, and she stepped out
of them as she pulled down the pair of men's briefs she wore to reveal
her pussy gleaming with droplets of lubrication.

As I watched, Toni climbed up on the desk, and straddled Tina, saying,
"Time for your wifely duties, darling."  She lowered her pussy over
Tina's hard penis, and mounted her as a any man would mount a woman.
Tina's head was thrown back in ecstasy, and she cried out, "Yes, hus-
band!  Fuck me!  Fuck your wife good!"  Toni moved her body up and down
on Tina's large penis, but not in the way a woman would on top of a
man.  Her movements were those of a man who had his cock buried in a
woman rather than the other way around.  She was fucking Tina, and
fucking her hard.  It was just the way Tina had fucked me in the apart-
ment I had shared with Margo.  The movements were hard and fast, and in
no time at all Tina was pumping hot cum up into Toni's pussy.  I was
transfixed, and breathing hard.

Toni got off of Tina, and sat in a chair.  Her pussy was dripping with
white, hot cum.  "Time for my blow-job, wife," she said.  Tina went
over, and kneeled before her.  Toni's clit was large, and seemed to
protrude from her pussy like a tiny, hard penis.  Tina took it in her
lips to suck it, and then licked her own semen from Toni's pussy.  My
own little penis was hard now, and twitching like crazy in its tuck.  I
realized that neither of the lovers I was watching would appreciate
having as audience this way, so I closed the door as silently as I
could.  Between what I had just witnessed and the blow-job I had given
Paul, I was feeling very randy.  I wondered if I too could get laid
that night.

Somehow the magazine was not all that interesting anymore.  I had tried
to get on with reading it back in the dressing room, but all I could
think of was Tina and Toni.  The image of it would just not leave my
mind.  It had me more horny than I had been in a long time.  I wondered
if I could just slip into the shower room, and quickly jerk-off before
the others arrived.  The dressing room door, however, started to open
just then, so I pretended to be reading.  Tina entered wearing a short,
black, silk and lace robe over her lingerie.  She smiled at me, and
said, "Well, did you enjoy the show?  I hope we put on a good one for
you."

"Wa... what?," I stammered.  "It's all right," Tina said stopping me.
"I don't mind being watched when Toni fucks me.  I even enjoy it.  It
adds to the excitement."  I did not know what to say.  There was no way
to deny it, and I was not sure of what to do.  "Did Toni see me too?,"
I asked.  "She did," Tina answered, "but she doesn't mind either.  We'd
even like you to join us sometime.  I'd love another chance at that
sweet little ass of your's."

I could hardly believe what was happening.  "What do you mean, Tina?,"
I asked, trying to get a handle on the situation.  "I'll be blunt with
you," Tina said with a playfully evil laugh, "as if I haven't been
already.  I've wanted you in bed again for a long time, and Toni want's
to watch.  She'll bring along her girlfriend, so we get a show too.
Toni and I like foursomes like that.  She might want a little of you
too, but nothing you can't handle."  I was confused, and I could not
think of anything to say but, "I did not know you two were lovers."
Tina laughed loudly.  "Lovers?," she said.  "We're more than lovers.
We're married!"

"Married?!," I exclaimed.  "Yes," Tina replied.  "We're husband and
wife, bur we have the roles a little reversed.  We don't tell many
people, but I think we can trust you.  We were both dancers, and Toni
found out I was a TV.  She walked in on me in a dressing room before I
had gotten my pants on over my lace panties.  Toni's a Lesbian, but she
likes a real dick in her once in a while.  She asked me on a date, but
only if I wore a dress.  I like a woman once in a while too, although I
prefer other boys in skirts, so I went along with it.  She seduced me
that first night, and she's been fucking me the way you saw ever since.

The story was fascinating.  "How did you come to get married?," I as-
ked.  "We fell in love," Tina answered.  "She taught me to be a woman,
and got me living full time as one.  I became an instructor in her
school, and she proposed to me.  We even had a white wedding with me in
a gown, and Toni in a tuxedo.  Patty was one of my bridesmaids.  We
live as husband and wife, but we still like to fuck other people too.
Liz at the school is Toni's regular lover, though.  I sometimes watch
them, and Liz likes to suck my dick once in a while.  You're the most
feminine TV we know, and we'd all like to have a little fuck and suck
party with you.  Think about it, and tell me later.  Somebody's com-
ing."

I sat back in the chair as Janet arrived.  I said hello to her, but my
mind was on the proposition Tina had just made me.  In a strange way I
wanted to do it.  When Tina fucked, she fucked hard, and I sort of
liked that.  I would not mind letting her get me in bed again.  The
sexual excitement I was feeling from Paul, Toni, and Tina had me really
randy, and was clouding my thoughts.  I needed to get some release for
that, so I could think clearly.  I really had to think about this.

All the others soon got there too, and the "G.G.Girls were assembled
for their rehearsal.  There was the usual round of joking and gossip
while we changed into our dancing clothes, but I was a little more
quiet than usual.  Patty noticed, and asked about it, but I put her
off, saying that I would tell her later.

The rehearsal was actually a good one.  The show would be two Saturdays
from now, and we were doing three numbers as a group.  Someone had
talked Gerry, the owner of "The Gilded Grape," into letting a magic act
try out his stuff on our stage, and we were going to just decorate the
area wearing sequined leotards.  We were going to do our show-girl
moves as a back-up to a male singer in the show as well.  Then we would
also do our big finish number as the G.G.Girls chorus line in high-kick
style.  It was going to be a lot of work, and there would not be a lot
of time between numbers for changing.  The only advantage was that
Gerry wanted us to do only one show.  We got down to work quickly, and
Tina worked us hard.  I wanted it to be a good show too.  Edith would
be in the audience.

At last the rehearsal was over, and we were back in the dressing room.
I was tired.  This had been a very long day for me, what with finding a
job and the other things that happened.  I could hardly wait to get
home to bed, but I had another problem too.  I was horny as hell!  The
doctor had told me that the hormone therapy would lessen my sex drive
for a while, and that was the case most of the time, but it was not
working that way tonight.  With the feelings still running through my
system from the blow-job I had given Paul, the passionate scene I had
witnessed between Toni and Tina, and the sexual proposition Tina had
made me, I really needed to do something about it.  At least when I got
home I would be able to masturbate.

I stripped off all my clothes, and put on my robe.  I was still being
very quiet, but Patty gave me a nudge, and asked, "What's the matter,
kiddo?  You look like you have something on your mind."  I came a lit-
tle way back to reality, and replied, "Oh, nothing... really.  I guess
I'm just tired.  It was a sort of strange day."  Patty lit a cigarette,
and said, "Yeah, I know what days like that are like.  I've been want-
ing to talk to you.  I heard a story that said you got busted for pros-
titution.  What happened?"  I had wondered when someone was going to
ask about that, so I replied with a sigh, "The story's true.  I didn't
listen to the advice everybody gave me, and I went out on the street,
and propositioned a cop."  Patty started to laugh, but it was our turn
in the shower room by then.  She giggled all the way inside.

Patty locked the door of the shower room behind us, and hung her robe
on a peg.  I did the same.  "Let's share one stall," suggested Patty.
"That way we can talk more."  I did up my hair in a towel to keep it
dry, and stepped into the spray.  It felt good on muscles tired from
the exertions of dancing, and I closed my eyes to enjoy it.  I was just
loosing myself in the feelings when I felt warm, wet hands on my still
small but growing breasts.  I opened my eyes, and looked straight into
Patty's face a few inches away.  "I thought we could help each other
shower," she said.  "That way we could talk.  Your tits are coming
along very well."

I thanked her for the little compliment, and started soaping her shoul-
ders.  She asked again about how I got arrested, and I told her the
story, leaving out the parts about Helen, and my working as a call-
girl.  I did not want that all over this bar.  We washed each other all
over, but Patty seemed to want to pay a lot of attention to my breasts.
"You really have a nice pair of tits, Bobbi," she said.  "They feel
real nice."

Her hand went to my crotch where my little penis had slipped from its
tuck.  It was as hard as it could get with the hormones I was taking,
but that was still enough to have it poking out prominently.  Patty's
fingers wrapped around it.  "This feels nice too," she said.  "Is that
part of your little problem tonight?  Well, we can take care of that."

Patty dropped quickly to her knees in front of me, and took my little
penis between her lips.  I wanted to protest at first, but the feeling
of her tongue running all over my little penis was just what I needed
then.  I leaned back against the wall of the shower stall, and let
Patty suck me until I came in her mouth.  It did not take very long.
She was an expert cocksucker.  "Is that better?," she asked as she
stood up after swallowing my load of cum.  "Just ask if you ever want
that sort of help.  I like sucking on that little pee-pee of your's.
Let's go get dressed."

I was dressed again in only a few minutes, and left the bar.  Patty and
Billie asked me to stay for a drink, but I just wanted to get home.  I
hailed a cab outside on 8th Avenue, and settled back for the ride to
Queens.  I liked the idea of being in a chorus line, but I made up my
mind that the next show would be my last with the "G.G.Girls."  I had
to get away from "The Gilded Grape" and this whole lifestyle.  I was on
my way to becoming all the woman I could be in this life now, and this
would only hold me back.  I did not want to be a TV.  I wanted to be a
woman.

It was a little after eleven when I got home, and Edith was still up
watching television.  "How did it go today?," she asked when I came in.
"Great!," I answered.  "I got a job!"  I, of course, had to tell her
all about it, and we talked until well after midnight.  We finally
figured it was time to get to bed, but I said as we left the living
room, "Mom, do you still want to come the show at the club?"  Edith
said that she did, so I told her that it was going to be the last one I
did, adding, "I just don't want to be around that life anymore."  Edith
gave me her best motherly smile, and said, "You should get away from
it.  You're a woman now, you know, and I'm glad to see you're finally
realizing that too.  My little girl is growing up."  Edith kissed me
good-night on the forehead.  I slept very well that night.


Sub-title: On the Job

I probably should have been sleepy like all the others around me, but I
was wide awake, and feeling good.  Edith noticed it too.  "You seem
chipper this morning," she said when the racket of a subway train on
the other track had faded enough for her to be heard, "but I guess you
should be for your first day on a new job."  I smiled a broad smile
back at her.  "My first day on my first job," I replied, adding in a
whisper only she could hear, "...as a girl!"

It was Monday morning, and Edith and I were on the station platform
waiting for a subway train to take us into Manhattan.  Edith was going
to her job at the department store, and I was on my way to my first day
as a receptionist for the chemical company.  Saying that I was excited
about it would have been a gross understatement.  I was floating on a
cloud.  By next Monday morning I might be just as bored and sleepy at
the drudgery of going to work like this every day as the rest of the
people around me, but today was something special.  This was my first
ever, regular, full-time job as a woman.  If I could hold this job, or
one like it, for the year of my Real Life Test, and live full-time as a
woman in my off hours, the psychologist would certify me as a candidate
for surgery, and Dr Benjamin could work his magic with the scalpel to
let me be all the woman I could be in this life.  This was a very im-
portant day for me.

The subway train soon arrived, and the crush of the crowd swept me
aboard.  There were no seats, but that was normal for that time of day.
I took hold of a grab-iron, and held on while the train lurched its way
through the tunnels toward the heart of The City.  My coat was open,
and I could see a couple of the men giving me a pretty good looking
over.  I did not mind giving them a little entertainment in that way to
brighten up their morning.  I had not worn one of my mini-skirts, or
anything like that this morning, but my outfit was still sexy enough in
a businesslike sort of way.

I was wearing a burgundy dress that I had bought over the weekend for
the occasion.  It was made of a clingy, but velvet-like material that
let it hug my curves in all the right places.  The top had a high
neckline that could have seemed almost austere, but the soft lines of
the shoulders, and the roundness of the curve over my breasts, toned
that down just the right amount.  The short cap-sleeves gave it all a
sexy look, and the hemline of the skirt being about an inch above my
knees helped with that too.  This was all set off with black, patent-
leather belt, bag, and heels.  The looks I was getting from the men in
the subway car told me I had done well.  I felt good about myself too.

Edith and I got off at the same stop to change trains, but she headed
for the downtown train to take her to the area of the department store
while I went uptown to Park Avenue and the chemical company.  It was a
ritual that we would play out on our way to work each morning for a
long time.  "Good luck," Edith shouted over the interminable din of
trains and people in the subway station.  "I want to hear all about
your first day when you get home tonight," she added.  "Thanks!," I
replied.  "I'll see you then.

We parted company, and I took the uptown local on the Lexington Avenue
Line.  There were no seats left on this train either, but I only had to
ride to the next stop anyway.  I did, however, wonder how the people
who were in the seats got them.  Were they permanent residents of that
subway car, or did they go down to the yard before dawn to board the
train prior to its starting that morning?  I do not think I have ever
seen an open seat during the commuting rush hours in the subway.  I
only wish I knew the magic words that would let me occupy one of them
once in a while.  It is no fun having to stand in high-heels on the way
home from work on a hot August day with the crowd pressing around you
on a train that has stopped for some unknown reason in the tunnel under
the East River, and feeling the perspiration sticking your clothes to
your body, with some old man in a tattered suit pressed against you
while he admires the view down your cleavage with obvious and lecherous
delight, and unknown hands cop feels of your ass from behind.  Being a
woman is not all silk and lace all of the time.

It only took a few minutes to get to get to the stop where I got off,
and I joined the press of the crowd that flowed out of the station to
the street above.  The morning was cool and clear, and it felt good to
be out of the subway.  I had a few blocks to walk to the office build-
ing where I now worked, and I got a few more looks from the men that I
passed along the way.  That used to bother me the first few times I was
out in public as a woman, but now it was just a matter of course.  I
used to be afraid that someone had seen something that had told them I
was not totally the woman I presented myself to be, but now I was con-
fident that the only thing that could give me away was safely tucked in
my panties, back between my legs, and up into my crotch.  I liked all
the looks I got from those men.  They were real validation that I was
well on my way to becoming all the woman I could be in this life.

I soon crowded into an elevator in the office building along with a
number of people who were about to become my co-workers at the chemical
company.  I looked them over as we rode upward toward the floor where I
was to meet Paul to start my new job, and wondered if I would be wor-
king directly with any of them.  A few looked mildly interesting, but
most were the typical New York City office worker type, secretaries
just out of business courses in high school, nondescript clerks just
marking time until they retired to social security and cab driving to
make ends meet no matter how far in the future that was, young manage-
ment trainees trying to look like corporate executives behind their
pimples, long-haired callow youths from the mailroom trying to be Hip-
pies, and one gentleman in a custom tailored suit who was probably at
least a department manager, if not a vice-president.  He spent most of
the ride looking me over, and the expression on his face said that he
liked what he saw.

The elevator doors finally opened on the floor I wanted, and I stepped
off.  I let my hips wiggle for the benefit of my executive friend from
the elevator as I walked away, and I was sure he would notice the ges-
ture even through my coat from the way he had been watching me on the
ride up from the first floor.  I liked giving him a little show.  A
girl can always use a few friends in high places.

It was quarter of nine, and the receptionist for the personnel area had
not yet arrived.  I took a seat in the reception area, and settled down
to wait.  Two older women soon joined me as did three young men.  I as-
sumed that they were also starting new jobs that day, and that was con-
firmed when the receptionist finally did arrive, and took us into a
small classroom behind the reception area.  After a few minutes, the
opened, and in walked Paul.  He went straight to the front of the room,
and hardly looked at me at all.  He obviously did not want it known
that we knew each other, so I made no indication of it either.  He
cleared his throat, and started his pitch.

"Good morning," Paul said, "and welcome to our company.  I think I,
err... interviewed most of you, so I know, err... a few of you.  My
name is Paul, and I, err... will give you your orientation.  Please
feel, err... free to ask any questions you like.  This will take, err..
about an hour, and then I'll take, err... each of you to your job area
to, err... meet your boss and co-workers.  We have, err... a little
movie about our, err... company, so let's get started with, err...
that."

Paul walked to the back of the room, turned out the lights, and started
the projector.  The machine rattled to life, and started presenting the
wonderful world of the chemical business to us.  The film would never
have won an Academy Award in any category, but I found just watching it
exciting.  The premise that chemicals are good for us stretched only a
thin veil over the facts of what those chemicals were doing to the
planet, and the quality of life for those beings that live on it, but
that did not seem to matter that morning.  I am not always so callous
about such things, but the most important thing for me was that I now
had a real job as a woman, and was being accepted as the female I real-
ly was by all and sundry.  That was all I could, or wanted to think
about.

The show soon ended, and Paul turned the lights back on.  He walked to
the front of the room again, and said, "That should have, err... given
all of you a pretty good idea of what your, err... company does.  Now
let's go over a few of the, err... necessary rules that we have here."
Paul explained all about things like starting times, quitting times,
lunch hours, break times, telephone etiquette, dress code, time sheets,
medical benefits, and all the little details of company procedures and
policy that we would have to know to do our jobs properly.  When he was
finished I noticed that a number of other people had entered the room.
"That's all I, err... have to say for now," Paul said.  "These people,
and I will, err... escort you to your new job stations.  Please wait
until your name is called, err... and go with the person who calls it.
Bobbi, err... you will come with me."

I rose, and followed Paul out of the room while others called other
names.  Paul picked up a file folder on the way out, and escorted me to
the elevator.  Luckily, we were alone in it.  "That's a pretty typical
morning for, err... me," Paul said when the doors closed.  "Look, we
only have a minute, err... to talk privately here.  I didn't mean to be
rude by, err... ignoring you, but we don't want gossip all over, err...
the company.  I'll get you settled in, and then, err... I'll call you
later.  Don't worry, err... about anything.  You'll like your new boss,
and you'll, err... do just fine.  Let me know, err... if you need any-
thing."  I thanked Paul just as the doors opened on the fourth floor.
This was where I now worked.  Paul led the way off the elevator, and
over to the receptionist's desk in the waiting area.  This was about to
become my desk.

The girl at the receptionist's desk looked up when Paul approached, and
he asked her to tell the head of the traffic department that we were
there.  The girl made a call, and told us to go right in.  Paul led the
way back through the office.  I got a few more looks as we passed by
the rows of desks where the traffic clerks worked.  There were a number
of pleasantly lustful looks, but most were more looks of curiosity than
anything else.  They know Paul as the Personnel Manager, so I was ob-
viously a new employee.  They were just inspecting the newcomer to
their midst.  I sort of inspected them right back.  I wanted to know
who I would be working with too.

A secretary greeted Paul by name when we approached her desk, and she
got up to open the door to the office beyond for us.  She put her head
in to announce our arrival, and then stepped aside to let us pass.  In-
side a man of definite corporate bearing sat behind a large desk.  He
was in his late fifties, but looked somewhat younger, although the
touch of distinguished grey hair around the temples did rather give his
age away.  He appeared to be athletic, and quite muscular from what I
could see of his arms through his starched, white shirt.  His face was
angular, but very handsome with a nice smile for us in greeting.  He
looked like the sort of man I would nor mind working under in any sense
of the words.  This job could be fun with someone like him for a boss.
I could easily get used to taking orders from him.

"Mr Saxon," Paul said, "I'd like, err... you to meet your new recept-
ionist.  This, err... is Bobbi."  Before Paul could say more the man
rose, and extended his hand to mine in greeting.  "Call me Bill," he
said.  "I'm the vice-president of traffic here, but I don't stand on
formality.  Would you like to sit down, so we can get acquainted?"  I
did very much want to get better acquainted with him.  I also did not
want him to let go of my hand.  His grip was firm without being hard,
but with a gentleness and strength in it that made me tingle.  I looked
at his left hand, and did not see a wedding ring on it.  A few thoughts
flew through my mind that had to be quickly dismissed.  A man like this
would want someone who was already all the woman she could be, and
besides, he was old enough to be my father.  Still, I found him very
attractive, and I knew that would make for an interesting working re-
lationship.

"Thank you, Bill," I said, and daintily deposited myself in a chair in
front of his desk.  "Thank you, Paul," Bill said taking the file folder
that Paul had been carrying.  "I think Bobbi and I can take things from
here, and you can get back to your own work."  Paul had a strange look
on his face, and I am sure some of it was a bit of jealousy.  He star-
ted as if to say something, but stopped, and just took his leave of
Bill and I, closing the office door behind him.  Bill and I were alone
now.

"I hope you don't mind me getting rid of him that way," said Bill, re-
turning to his desk, and taking his seat behind it, "but I like to get
to know the people that work with me here, and I find that's often dif-
ficult with Personnel buzzing around.  He did, of course, tell you what
the job was all about?"  Bill was looking me over in much the same way
as other men had been doing all morning, but there was a lot more gen-
tleness here.  There was lust in his eyes, but there was a note of re-
spect too.  I felt comfortable talking to him.

"Yes," I replied.  "He told me that I would be your receptionist, and
do a little typing as well.  Are there any other duties I should know
about?"  Bill let a playfully evil leer cross his face when I said
that, but made it disappear quickly.  I really had not meant anything
by it, but it had come out as if I had.  I made a mental note to be
careful of my choice of words in the future.  Women have to be careful
of things like that.  "No," said Bill, composing himself, "no other
duties that I can think of now.  We'll see how things work out as you
go along.  I am a firm believer in promoting from within, so you will
have the opportunity to advance if you wish.  Now let's just get to
know you."

We chatted for about half an hour about a lot of things.  He was gen-
uinely interested in the people who worked in his department, and was
insistent that they worked with, and not for, him.  He asked about
everything I did without prying too deeply into my personal life.  I
told him that I lived at home with my mother, Edith, and grandmother,
Sarah, and about my modeling jobs and dance lessons.  I did, however,
omit telling him about certain parts of my life, and certain anatomical
details of my body that I thought would not add any worthwhile details
to the story.  "It sounds like you want to be an entertainer someday,"
Bill said to all that I told him.  "Maybe," I said, "but right now I
just want to do this job well enough to satisfy you."  That same play-
fully lecherous grin crossed his face again.  "Yes," he said.  "Well,
I'm sure you'll do that...  in some way.  Now let me get you to your
desk."

Bill pressed the intercom button on his phone, and said, "Gwen, could
you come in, please."  Gwen appeared through the door seconds later.
She was Bill's personal secretary, and the woman who had let Paul and I
into the office earlier.  She was in her late twenties, or about
thirty, with blonde hair and green eyes.  She also had quite a nice
figure, and did as little to conceal it as I did.  We were even about
the same height.  "Gwen," Bill said, "will you show Bobbi to her desk,
and get her set up?"  "Of course, Mr. Saxon," she replied with a del-
icate Southern drawl in her voice.  She led the way back through the
office to the reception area.  It was time for me to get on the job.

Gwen told the girl at the reception desk that she could go back to Per-
sonnel, and she disappeared without a word.  "Okay," Gwen said, "the
desk is all your's now.  Sit down, and I'll tell you how the job goes."
I pulled the chair out from the desk, and slid into it.  It had a high
back unlike the other office chairs inside the department, and looked
more like Bill's chair than those others.  That was part of the decor.
Each of the reception areas were decked out to look like an executive
office, so my chair and desk were very similar to the one's in Bill's
office.  I guess that was supposed to impress visitors.  It just meant
that I had nice furniture to work with.

"The coat closet is over there," said Gwen, pointing at a sliding door
in the wall to the right of the elevators as I faced them from my desk,
"so you'll want to put your coat in there later.  The door to your left
goes into the department, and the door to your right leads into a short
hallway that comes out back by Mr. Saxon and I.  His private conference
room is also off that hall.  The only one's you send in that way are
people that have appointments with him.  I'll give you a list of any
new appointments each day, and you enter them in the desk diary here."
Gwen went on to tell me all the details of the job, how to work the
telephones, where the Ladies Room was, and the basics of the office
gossip.  It seemed like a nice place to work.

"Let me know if y'all need anything," Gwen said, feeling comfortable
enough with me to let even more of her Southern accent come through.
"I sort of act as office manager here too, so y'all can call me if you
have a problem.  Maybe we can have lunch later this week too.  We're a
fairly close group in this here department.  Everybody's real nice.
Even the office wolf is really just a big, old pup dog.  He tries to
come on real strong, but y'all can wrap him around your little finger."
That sounded like someone that I should have advance notice about.
"Who's that?," I asked.  "That's Vinny," Gwen answered.  "He tries to
come on like Don Juan, but he's all talk.  All the girls just string
him along.  It's a game he likes."

"I think y'all can handle things here now," Gwen said, heading for the
door back into the office.  "Call me if y'all need help," she said over
her shoulder, adding with a wink, "and watch out for Vinny."  With that
she disappeared into the office, and I was left alone at my desk.  I
spent the first few minutes arranging things.  It was more just nervous
energy than anything else, but it gave me something to do.  I would not
really know where I wanted things until I got into a routine with the
work I would have to do, but putting things in the desk where I thought
I wanted them made it that much more "my" desk, and made me feel good.
Besides, neither Mr. Saxon or any of his managers had any appointments
that morning, so apart from answering a few telephone calls to take a
message for someone who was away from their desk, I had little else to
do to start with.

About eleven o'clock a young man appeared at the door from the inner
office carrying a sheaf of papers.  He was not overly tall, and looked
a little like the actor, Al Pacino.  He had black hair, dark eyes,
strong looking hands, and a cute sort of boyish grin on his face.  He
was actually quite attractive, and I wondered if he was the one Gwen
had told me about.  I would soon find out.

"Hi!," he said in a short and matter-of-fact way, his voice echoing
from an Italian neighborhood in Brooklyn.  "Gwen said you should be
able to type this for me.  I know you're new here, so if you need me to
explain anything, just let me know.  My name's Vinny, and I understand
your's is Bobbi.  I'm pleased to meet you, and maybe we could talk
sometime.  There's a lot to learn here, so maybe I could help."  He was
really being very sweet, no matter how fast he talked, and I rather
liked my first impression of him.  "When do you need this?," I asked.
"It's only three pages, so I was sort of hoping for this afternoon, but
tomorrow morning would be good too," he answered.  "You'll have it this
afternoon," I replied.  "I'll call you when it's done, okay?"

Vinny seemed to like that very much, and it was also obvious that he
liked looking at me.  He had a look that went right through my clothes,
and made me feel positively naked before him.  I actually did not mind
that sort of look from any man.  I just hoped that such looks, and my
enjoyment of them, would not cause a problem in a business situation.
I would have to watch out for that.

"That's great," Vinny said.  "Call me when you're done.  I'll be wait-
ing."  Then he went back into the office.  I turned on the electric
typewriter, and got out some paper to get on with typing up Vinny's
report.  I think I would have liked to talk more with him, but now it
was time that I got on the job.

The rest of the day was rather uneventful.  I had lunch on my own at
the counter of a coffee shop on Lexington Avenue.  The chemical company
had a cafeteria, but I just felt like walking outside for a bit.  I
missed having Edith as a lunch partner.  Eating lunch alone is boring.
I had spent the morning at my desk in the reception area alone, and I
just wanted someone to talk and be sociable with.  I would have to find
someone to fill that role, but who?  Gwen did not seem a likely candid-
ate, being busy most of the time tending to Mr. Saxon's needs, and
Vinny, while he might be eager, was not what I had in mind.  I was sure
that someone would fit in, though.  I could always find friends.

It had been quite a long time since I did any typing, but somehow I got
through Vinny's report.  I made sure that I read it over a few times to
be sure that I had no mistakes in it.  It actually was sort of inter-
esting reading in a way.  I knew nothing about how a traffic department
operated at the time, but there always seemed to be huge stacks of
paper everywhere.  Vinny's report was the outline of a plan to elimin-
ate a lot of that paper by using the computer to communicate with their
customers and carriers.  It sounded like science fiction to me, but it
was well written, and seemed like something Vinny had been working on
for a long time.  Vinny was going to go a long way with this company.

"Hello?," said Vinny into his telephone when I called him.  "This is
Bobbi out at reception," I replied.  "Your report is done if you would
like to pick it up."  I could hear the usual din of the traffic office
through the telephone.  In a way, I was glad I was out here in the
quiet.  "That's good, Bobbi," Vinny answered.  "I'll be out to get it
in a minute."

About twenty minutes later Vinny appeared at the door to the reception
area.  "I'm sorry, Bobbi," he said.  "I wanted to come right out to get
it, but I got held up."  I reached for the file folder in which I had
put the typed report and his handwritten original, saying, "That's
okay.  It was just here waiting for you.  I read it over to look for
mistakes, but you probably should check it yourself too.  It was inter-
esting to read."  Vinny looked pleased.  "I'm glad you liked it," he
said.  "I think it's a good concept, but now I have to convince Mr.
Saxon of it."

Vinny turned to take his papers back inside, but turned back to me, and
asked, "You know if you liked what you read so much, maybe we could
talk about it at lunch tomorrow.  Is that good for you?" I wondered if
this was Vinny coming on to me, or just business, so I decided to find
out.  "That would be just lovely for me," I answered sweetly.  "I'll
see you tomorrow."  Vinny smiled, and went back inside.  We had a date.

Five o'clock and quitting time came at last, and I joined the throng of
office workers making their way down elevators, along sidewalks, and
onto busses and trains of all types to wend their way home through the
twilight.  The subway train that I got on was, of course, crowded, and
I wondered if some of the people that had seats were not permanent fix-
tures in the cars.  I even looked to see if I could recognize some of
them from the morning.  The second train, after I changed trains at
Grand Central from the Lexington Avenue Line to the Flushing Line, was
about the same, and I wound up standing all the way home.

Edith had not yet gotten home when I arrived, but Sarah had started
dinner as she always did.  I kicked off my heels, and helped her finish
up.  Edith got home about twenty minutes after I did, and we all got
the food on the table together.

"So?," Edith asked after we sat down.  "How did it go today?"  I mun-
ched on a bit of chicken, and then answered, "Great!  I think I'm go-
ing to like it there.  All the people are really nice, and the work is
not hard at all.  I'm the receptionist for the traffic department, and
do a little typing, so it's really easy."  I went on with a lot of sil-
ly little details about office procedures, but Edith did not stop me.
I guess she knew I had to get all the small talk about the job out of
my system to get rid of all the nervous energy that had built up from
the excitement of my first day on the job.

We finished dinner, and Edith and I continued to talk all the way th-
rough the washing and drying of the dishes.  We got a little into what
her day had been like too, but most of the talk was about me.  It went
on even as we sat in the living room to watch television and read for
the evening.  There just seemed to be so much to tell.  I had thought
that I had gone through a rather uneventful day, but the telling about
it made it seem a lot more interesting.  I even told Edith about Vinny.
She was interested in hearing about him, and I sort of was too.

Edith and I were happily chatting away about my first day on the job
when the telephone rang.  I picked it up, and heard a deep, male voice
on the other end.  "Bobbi?," the voice said.  "This is your favorite
policeman, Officer Brian."  It was the policeman whom I had met in Cen-
tral Park, and on the street near Dr. Benjamin's office.  He had final-
ly gotten around to calling me.  "I was wondering if you were free on
Thursday night," he said.  "We should do that interview about police
protection we talked about, but a lowly patrolman doesn't always get
weekends or Fridays off.  I was sort of hoping that we could have an
early dinner on Thursday."  It did not sound like a bad idea, so I ag-
reed, saying, "Why, that would be lovely, officer.  We citizens should
help the police whenever we can.  Having dinner with you on Thursday
would be my pleasure.

It turned out that Brian also lived out here in Queens, so he would
pick me up at my apartment at seven o'clock.  He said that he had to go
on duty early the next morning, so we would not be out very late.  He
was very polite and proper when he spoke to me, and a lot less forward
than the other men I had dated.  He reminded me a little of Peter like
that.  He was very adamant that we would not be out late, and that I
should tell my mother not to worry.  Maybe he was different in other
ways too.  I wondered what it would be like to date a cop.

It was only about ten minutes after I hung up with Brian that the tele-
phone rang again.  This time it was Wendy.  It was not all that unusual
for her to call.  We had gotten rather friendly since our meeting at my
first photo session.  We had seen each other about every ten days or so
to go shopping, and talked on the telephone about once a week.  I would
not say that we were close friends yet, but we were getting there.  She
lived only a mile or two away from me, and while by New York City stan-
dards that was a very long way, it was close enough.  "Hi, Wendy," I
said just loud enough for Edith to hear as well, so that she would know
I might be talking for a while.  "What's up?"

"Oh, a little and a lot," Wendy answered with a strange note of fear
and excitement in her voice.  "I've got two...  things to tell you
about, okay?  I think you'll like hearing about both of them, but the
second one sort of scares me a little even if it's sort of good news."
I had no idea what she was talking about.  "Well, what is it then?," I
asked, totally puzzled, and trying to think of what her news could be.

"First off," Wendy started, "Tom asked me to tell you that we need you
this weekend for a shoot on the coat layout.  We're going to do the
outdoor stuff in Central Park on Saturday, and in Jersey on Sunday.
Ray and I can pick you up at nine on Saturday morning, but we have to
get going by six on Sunday morning to get out to Jersey to catch a sun-
rise.  If you could sleep over here on Saturday night it would be eas-
ier.  How's that all for you?"  Most people think modeling is glamor-
ous, but I would not call being out at six on a cold Sunday morning to
get my picture taken very glamorous.  It was, however, part of the job.
"Okay," I said.  "I'll be ready to go.  I'll bring along some overnight
things too,  What's the other news?"

"Are you sitting down?," Wendy asked.  "Yes," I replied in a matter-of-
fact way.  "Brace yourself for this," she continued.  "I'm pregnant!"

It took a minute for the word to sink in before I said, "Pregnant?
That's wonderful!  I think.  Have you told Ray yet?"  There was relief
in Wendy's words now.  "I've told him.  He is going to be a daddy, so
he should know," she said.  That was a bit of a relief to me too.  It
saved any possible embarrassment to either of us, since I did not now
have to ask her if Ray was the father.  I was not sure how sexually
active Wendy was other than with Ray.

"We're moving in together," Wendy said, continuing the story.  "Ray
says he can get us a house a little way out on Long Island, and he
wants to move there.  He says The City is no place to raise HIS child.
He went all mushy when I told him."  She paused for a moment.  "I'll
tell you a secret," she said.  "He hasn't asked me yet, but I think he
might finally want to get married.  Do you want to be Maid-of-Honor?"
She giggled at this, but I could tell she was serious.

"Sure, why not?!," I replied with a giggle too.  "If you really want me
to be.  When are you due?"  Wendy cleared her throat, and said, "The
doctor says in about seven months, so if he does want to get married, I
hope he asks quick.  I want a white gown, and my clothes are getting a
little tight already.  I really would like you to be Maid-of-Honor.
The only other people I know are at the studio, and I feel closer to
you than any of them.  If he asks, will you do it?"

"I will," I replied, and we made girl-talk about it all for an hour.  I
had not known how close Wendy felt we were, or how much she accepted me
as a fellow woman.  That was all clear now, and I liked it.  We would
get even closer as time went on, but right now I felt very warm inside.
My adopted "family" of friends was still growing.

The rest of the week at work was almost as quiet as my first day had
been.  I started to get into a routine of things, and got to like what
I was doing.  It was fun to sit at that big desk, and pretend to be
running things.  Gwen kept me supplied with typing projects so I would
not get bored, and there was enough to do between them to keep me busy.
It was a very easy job.  That was fine with me.  This was the kind of
job I had wanted.

I even managed to have a little fun along the way.  I found out that
the lack of visitors on the first day was not the normal course of
events.  We usually had two or three salesmen a day coming in to see
the traffic managers and Mr.  Saxon, and most of them were incorrigible
flirts.  That sort of suited me well too, and I would play along with
their little games of sexual innuendo and double entente.  I did, how-
ever, make sure that things did not go too far, but one or two did try
to make a serious pass at me.  I put them off quickly.  Games of flir-
ting were fine, but I did not want to take any chances of messing up my
job with anything like that.  Besides, I still had to be careful about
even thinking of dating Straight guys until after my surgery.  I know I
did not have to go to bed with them, but why add to the temptation?
The "dates" that Helen would set up for me would take care of my sexual
needs.

Lunch with Vinny on Tuesday was funny.  We went to a coffee shop over
near Madison Avenue, and got a booth for just the two of us near the
back.  He seemed nervous as we had walked there, and later I found out
that I was the first girl in the office that had ever agreed to go to
lunch alone with him.  He seemed like he was not sure if I should take
his arm like a girlfriend, or we should walk separately like co-wor-
kers.  I opted for the latter just to see what he would do.

The time in the coffee shop was even more funny.  When Vinny got ner-
vous, he talked.  Not just ordinary conversation, but non-stop talking.
Most of it was about business, but he also told me about the weather,
his childhood, the stock market, his mother, his job, his future, and a
hundred other things that I cannot remember.  His way of getting to
know someone was to tell them everything about himself, or so it seem-
ed.  I just ate my salad, and listened to all he had to say.  It was
even sort of interesting, and he did let me get a few things in about
myself.  He had an opinion on everything I said.

We walked back to the office after lunch, and this time I put my arm in
his.  He was not sure how to interpret that, and kept his arm crooked
out, letting mine just sort of hang in it.  I brushed against him a
couple of times to let him know that it was all right if he held tight-
er, and he relaxed a little.  He made sure, however, that we were not
arm-in-arm when we got to the office building.  I think it was so peo-
ple would not get any ideas if they saw us that way.  I also think I
intimidated him a little.  I sort of liked that in a girlish sort of
way.  For all his bluster and flirting, Vinny was still very much a shy
little boy in a lot of ways.  I was actually getting to like him.

I ate in the company cafeteria the rest of the week, and got to know a
few of the others in the traffic department.  Gwen joined me one day
with another girl named Sue, who was a clerk in the department.  We
spent that lunch doing a lot of office gossip, and they wanted to know
all about my lunch with Vinny.  I told them most of the story.  It made
for good girl-talk, and a lot of giggles.  I was learning more about
what being a woman was like, and that is just what I wanted.

Quitting time on Thursday came quickly enough.  I was even a little bit
excited about getting home as early as I could to meet Brian for our
date.  I had reason to feel that way too.  I had been out on dates with
many men, but this was really the first time that I would be going out
with a Straight guy who had no idea that I was not quite all the woman
that he thought he saw before him when he looked at me.  The only other
time that I had even come close to doing something like this was with
Alan, but that was more of a quick pick-up than an actual date.  To-
night with Brian was something very different.  This was an actual,
public, planned-out, boy and girl date!

The hour between four and five o'clock in the afternoon dragged even
before the hands of the clock seemed to freeze at four-fifteen.  Ner-
vously, I had gotten my coat out of the closet, and had it draped over
one of the chairs in the reception area for a quick getaway.  "In a
hurry tonight?," asked Gwen on her way to the Ladies Room.  "Sort of,"
I replied anxiously.  "Y'all must be," she said.  "Y'all usually aren't
a clock-watcher.  Look, Mr. Saxon isn't here, and it's quiet.  Y'all go
and scoot early.  I'll watch the board.  What's up?  Y'all got a hot
date or something?"  My coat was on in seconds.  "Right the first
time!," I called back as I left.  "I'll tell you about it at lunch to-
morrow."

I fairly flew home.  Brian would be there to pick me up at seven, so I
did not have all that much time to go home, and get ready.  Maybe a
girl is supposed to keep her escort waiting, but that always seemed to
be just a ruse to keep my dates interested when I thought they needed
it.  I try to be on time as much as I can be, so I am usually ready at
the appointed hour, but once in a while I leave the man who is taking
me out waiting for a few extra minutes to get him concentrating on me
as he should be.  Tonight, however, was not one of those times.

Sarah was a little bit surprised to see me when I came in.  "You home
early," she said with an implied question in her voice.  "Yes," I re-
plied.  "I have a date tonight, grandma.  I'm going out with a boy I
met."  She smiled broadly, saying, "Good!  Is nice boy, I hope.  You
like him?  Maybe I be a great-grandmother someday?"  Sarah never really
said much, but what she did say always hit home.  She also had a rather
strange, but well developed sense of humor.  "Maybe," I replied coyly.
Even after the surgery, when I would become all the woman I could be in
this life, making Sarah a great-grandmother would be one of the few
womanly things that I could never do.  For all the surgeon's skill in
cosmeticly constructing all the external structures of the female geni-
talia on a Transexual's body, they could not realign the biology enough
to allow her to become pregnant.  I had not thought much about that up
to now.

I headed to my room to change clothes, leaving Sarah clucking to her-
self about my date.  I stripped completely, slipped on my robe, tied up
my hair, and went to the bathroom to take a quick shower.  Back in my
room, I got out a white lace bra, garter-belt, and panties set.  Brian
would probably not get a look at these tonight, but I did want to feel
pretty.  Over those went a teal blue dress that showed off my figure
well, but was not quite as tight and clingy as some of the things I
could have worn.  The skirt was straight, and came to about an inch
above my knee.  Sheer stockings, and belt, pumps, and bag of blue lea-
ther finished the outfit, and warm-pink lipstick, blue eye make-up, and
a gold chain about my neck completed my dressing.  It was only six-
thirty, so I still had some time before Brian got here.  I walked to
the living room to wait for him.

Edith was home by that time, and I could hear her out in the kitchen
with Sarah, getting their dinner ready.  I sat on the sofa, and thumbed
through a magazine to wait for Brian to arrive.  I hoped he would not
be late.

I was not sure why at that time, but I was really looking forward to
this date.  Part of it was the excitement of being attractive enough as
a woman to have a very Straight, and rather attractive himself, man
want to take me out.  That would almost have been exciting enough on
its own, but there was also something else that I could not explain.
Brian was a handsome man, so I thought that might be it.  I had only
seen him in uniform up to then, but I could tell that under the uniform
was a lot of man.  He was tall, and must have worked-out in a gym at
least two or three times a week because he had the sort of big, strong
looking, and solidly muscular arms that a girl could easily loose her-
self in.  The trouble was that even after I thought about all of that,
there still seemed to be more that attracted me to him.  Maybe I would
find out what it was tonight.

"Hi!," Edith said, interrupting my reverie as she came into the living
room.  "I see you're all ready for your date.  When is he picking you
up?"  I put down the magazine.  "Should be in about ten minutes," I an-
swered, looking at the clock on a bookshelf.  "Bobbi, I need to ask a
bit of a delicate question," Edith said haltingly.  "You can always ask
me anything, mom," I replied.  "You should know that."  Edith nodded,
and said, "Well...  This is difficult to phrase for me, but does this
boy know all about you?  I mean, from the way you describe him, and his
being a policeman, and all...  he seems like a man who would only date
women," I said finishing the sentence for her.  "I didn't mean it that
harshly," she said.  "I know," I replied.  "Let me explain."

"Brian doesn't know about that part of me," I started, with a serious
tone to my voice.  "I know that might be a little dangerous, but I will
cut things off if they go too far in that direction, and this is our
first date, so nothing like that is going to happen.  I am going to a
psychologist as part of the therapy leading up to my operation, and
part of that therapy is to get used to doing things as I will be doing
for the rest of my life.  That could include a casual date with a
Straight guy without any sex involved once in a while.  I just have to
get used to being what I am, mom.  I'll be careful.  I promise."

Edith thought for a moment, and then said, "All right, but you be care-
ful.  You're not having him come up here this time, are you?"  I shook
my head, saying, "No, not on a first date.  I don't want him to get the
wrong idea.  I'll bring him home to meet my mother another time."  We
both giggled at this, but just then the building intercom rang.  It was
Thomas, the doorman, announcing that a gentleman caller was awaiting me
in the lobby.  I got my coat, and headed out the door.  "Don't be too
late," Edith called after me.  "I won't, mom," I replied.

I actually felt nervous riding in the elevator down to the lobby.  That
was not normal for me.  Dates never really bothered me, but this one
felt different.  The elevator doors finally opened on the first floor,
and as I stepped out, I could see Brian talking to Thomas.  They both
looked up, and the expression on their faces told me that my outfit was
a success.  "You look great!," Brian said as I approached.  "Thank you,
officer," I said in a coquettish way, and with a smile.  "I'm glad very
you're pleased."  Thomas held the door for us, and we went to Brian's
car.  It was parked right at the curb, so Thomas was right there to get
the door for me again.  "Some service," Brian said as we pulled away
into the traffic.  "I didn't know you lived in such a swanky building."

Brian drove the big Ford out onto Astoria Boulevard, and headed east
through Jackson Heights.  We soon turned onto a side street, and parked
near the corner.  "This place might not be as high class as you're used
to," said Brian, "but it's good food.  I'll try to do better the next
time."  Suddenly I realized that he was trying to impress me.  No man
I had dated had ever done that before in a serious way.  I had always
been either just a pretty bit of female fluff to decorate their arm, or
a rented commodity to entertain them for the evening no matter what
they were like.  Even Peter had not treated me as if he had to be spe-
cial for me to want to be with him.  This was a new experience, and I
liked it!  "I'm sure it will be just fine," I said, putting my arm in
his, and still not sure of exactly where we were going.

We walked a little further along the side street, away from the boule-
vard.  I had guessed that Brian took care of himself from what I had
been able to see of the way his clothes fitted him, but now with my arm
in his I could feel, first-hand so to speak, for myself the firmness of
his biceps.  They did not bulge like a weight-lifter, but there was no
mistake about them being there.  I found myself wishing that the SRS
was already behind me, and I no longer had any worries about letting a
Straight man seduce me.  My little penis twitched in its tuck to punc-
tuate my desires.  I wanted him to want me.

A few doors from where we had parked the car, Brian turned to lead us
into a small bar and restaurant with a sign above the door that read
"Little Paul's."  The decor inside ran all to checkered tablecloths,
wine bottles with candles in them, and murals of Roman ruins.  "I hope
you like Italian," said Brian.  "It might not look like much at first,
but the food is great here."  I gave his arm a little squeeze.  "It
looks just wonderful," I said.

"Brian!  My Irish paisano!," called a voice from over near the bar.  A
short, chubby man got up from a table there, and walked toward us.  He
wore a grey suit with a dark shirt and light grey tie, and looked like
a character straight out of some low-budget gangster movie.  I almost
laughed when I saw him, but held that back.  He was an incredible ster-
eotype.

"Hey, Brian!," he said, slapping Brian on the back, and looking me over
from head to toe.  "You gonna' introduce me to the bella femina, or do
I have to steal her away from you myself?  Escuse, beautiful lady," he
continued without letting Brian say anything, "Brian, he's a nice a'boy
but he forget'a his manners sometimes.  You can call'a me Little Paul.
I own'a this place, but I always think there's a'something she is mis-
sing.  Now you come'a here, and a'make my place beautiful for me.  Let
me show you to a good a'table.  Brian, he's a come too.  What is you
name, beautiful lady?"

Little Paul was charming.  He might sound like some sort of made-up
character, but he was a very real person.  A lot of writers have used
some characters like him in their stories, but I met the prototype that
day.  Maybe all of them ate in that same restaurant at one time or an-
other.  He led us to a table near the wall away from the bar, and I
answered his question.  "That's a beautiful name for a beautiful lady,"
he said.  "You sit, and talk to mi bambino Brian while I get'a you some
vino, eh?"  Brian shook his head as Little Paul walked away.  "I went
to school with his daughter, and lived across the street from him, so
he thinks of me like one of his own kids.  I hope you don't mind," he
said.  "Not at all," I answered.  "I think he's sort of cute."

Dinner and conversation with Brian was great.  If I had felt that there
was something special about him before, it grew the more I got to know
about him.  He was a policeman, but he was also taking courses for a
degree in criminology and law in his off hours.  He had aspirations of
being more than a patrolman, and the sooner the better as far as he was
concerned.  "I'd like to be in a management area with the FBI or even
the State police," he said.  "I'm not sure where yet.  I do like police
work, and I think I can move up the ladder that way."  From the confi-
dence in his voice when he said that, I really believed that he would.

I also learned that he had a very moral upbringing.  "I don't consider
myself a religious man," he said, "but I see a lot of things going on
lately that I can't agree with.  That's fine if they work for other
people, but I don't want to get into that with anyone that I might want
a longer relationship with unless we are making a definite commitment.
If it's just a casual date at a bar, I might take what get's offered,
but special women deserve special treatment, and I only bring special
people here."  That was his way of trying to say that he would put no
pressure on me for sex.  It might seem stiff and formal when compared
to the morals of the time at the beginning of the "Sexual Revolution,"
but there was nothing very stiff or formal about Brian.  He just agreed
with the moral values that he had been taught by his mother, even if he
did not share her Irish Catholic religious beliefs.  He was not against
sex in any way, even before marriage, but he wanted the woman he would
share his life with to know that he respected her in every way that he
could.  It was very refreshing from the other men I knew.  I liked it.

Brian took me home at about eleven o'clock.  "Your mom should be pleas-
ed," he said jokingly.  As I was about to get out of the car at the
apartment building where I lived, he asked, "Could I see you again?,"
and put out his hand in a polite, respectful, first date handshake.
Taking the handshake, I said, "Sure!," and pulled myself close enough
to give him a kiss on the cheek.  He smiled broadly as I stepped out of
the car, and passed through the door to the building that Thomas was
holding for me.  "I'll call you!," I heard him shout as the glass door
closed behind me, and I waved in answer.  I hoped he would call, and
very soon.

Edith was still up when I came in.  "How did it go?," she asked.  "Oh,
it was nice," I answered, but in my mind I said, "Dreamy!"  Brian might
not have seemed like much to some, but he got to me somehow.  Most of
the girls at that time would not have thought it "cool" to date a cop,
but that just did not matter to me.  Brian was someone special, no mat-
ter how I looked at it, and I was having a lot of very female feelings
toward him.  Only the twitching of my little penis in its tuck in my
crotch reminded me that I was not quite yet all the woman that Brian
might have wanted in a girlfriend.  If I could just hold things off
until after the SRS, maybe it could still work out.

"Where should I meet you after work tomorrow?," Edith asked.  "Tomor-
row?," I replied.  "Aren't you in a show tomorrow night?," Edith said.
"You said that I should come to see it."  I had forgotten.  I guess
that my mind had been too full of thoughts of Brian.  "Right!," I re-
plied.  "It just slipped my mind.  Let's meet at the Lord Camelot next
door to the bar.  We can eat there, and the club is right next door."
The restaurant was not all that great, but it would do for a light din-
ner before I had to dance.  "I'll meet you there at six," Edith said.
"I'm going to bed now."  I went to bed too.  I wanted to dream about
Brian.

I brought my dance things to work with me the next day, so that I could
go right to the bar from there.  I had lunch with Gwen and Sue in the
cafeteria, and we discussed my date with Brian.  Sue was a little tur-
ned-off by the fact that I would date a policeman, but thought that he
sounded nice anyway.  She was into the counter-culture and anti-estab-
lishment movements, but I tried not to let anything she said bother me.
Being around Brian felt good, and that was that.  I was falling for him
in a big way.

After work I took a taxi across town to the bar.  I wanted to put my
dance things in my locker before I met Edith for dinner.  The bar was
busy with its usual Friday afternoon throng of drinkers on the way home
from work.  Most of these were the Bisexual men who stopped in to look
at the drag queens before they went back to their wives.  They would
almost all be gone before show time, and a different crowd would come
in.  "Bobbi!," a voice called out from the bar.  It was Billie.

"Tina's lookin' for you," she said.  "She's back in the office, so go
see her first.  Okay?"  I told her I would, and added, "I'm going to
have a guest for the show tonight.  It's my...  Well, it's a real-girl,
and she hasn't been to a place like this before.  Can you get her at
one of the reserved tables?"  Billie took out the seating plan, and
looked it over.  "I can put her at Jerry's table.  There's one seat
left, and no queens at it tonight.  Okay?," she asked.  Jerry was the
owner, so that would work fine, and maybe even impress Edith a little.
"Okay," I said, and started toward the office to see what Tina wanted.

"Hello, Bobbi," said Margo as I passed her at the end of the bar.  "You
look lovely tonight.  Are you in the show, or have you dropped out of
the chorus line already?"  Some guy on the next barstool was groping
her thigh, and was working his hand up under her skirt.  She did not
stop him, so I assumed that they would soon be taking a trip to the
hotel for one of special blow-jobs.  "How did you know I was dropping
out"," I asked.  "Oh," she replied.  "I heard Tina had a replacement
for you, and I thought she told you about it."  Margo was as good at
spreading gossip as she was at spreading her legs.  "No she didn't," I
said with some annoyance, "but I'll ask her when I see her."  I broke
off the conversation to start toward the office again.  Margo and her
trick got up, and left for the hotel.  At least the john would get her
while she was still reasonably sober.

Tina was sitting at the desk when I got to the office.  "Come in, and
sit down," she said when I knocked.  She had her feet on the desk, and
did not seem concerned that there was an open view up her skirt for
anyone who cared to look.  "I've got two things to tell you," she be-
gan.  "Toni and I have been talking about you, and we feel that you can
do a lot better things as a dancer than the G.G.Girls.  Toni wants to
use you in some things she's got planned, but we can't have you in them
except as a real-girl.  We want you to drop out of here, and let her
pick you up through the school.  It's a good career move, and you can
get paid for her stuff.  You'll do the show tonight, but either way,
that's your last one.  What do you think?"  I wanted out anyway, so I
agreed, but tossed in a comment about Margo's gossip.  "I'll deal with
her," Tina said sternly.

"What's the second thing?," I asked.  "Well," Tina said, looking at me
with lust in her eyes, "we just want to remind you about our sexual
proposition.  We still both want you in bed."  She was not going to let
up on that, and I knew that Toni would probably put the same pressure
on me at the school.  "I still need to think about it," I replied.
"Think well," she said.  "My cock want's another taste of that sweet
ass of yours."

I took my leave of her after that, and went to the dressing room.  My
dance things were soon in my locker, and I went next door to the coffee
shop to meet Edith.  I really did not want to have sex with Tina and
Toni, but I was not sure how to get out of the pressure they were put-
ting on me.  I would have to find a way.

Edith was already in the Lord Camelot when I got there, and I joined
her at the table.  We talked a bit about work, and a lot about Brian.
"We will have to have him over for dinner one night," Edith said.
"Okay," I replied, "but not quite yet.  I don't want him to think I'm
rushing things by having him meet my mother right away."  This produced
some giggles from both of us.  I told her about the stageside table I
had arranged for her to sit at, and the fact that since the show was
not until ten o'clock, she would be alone in the bar for a while.
"That's all right," she said.  "I know what to do in a bar."  Knowing
Edith, I had no doubt that she did.

I did not have to be in the dressing room to get ready for the show
until eight o'clock, so Edith and I got to chat for a couple of hours
over dinner and coffee.  It should be no surprise that most of the talk
centered around Brian.  Soon enough, however, it was time to get back
to the bar.  Edith's reaction when we walked in was a little more re-
served than I might have expected.  She seemed totally nonplussed by
the fact that out of the group of about one-hundred individuals in the
club, a group that appeared to be a balanced mix of men and women, she
was one of only about six biological females that were there.

I walked her through the crowd to the back bar where Emma was holding
court, and introduced her.  "If you're a friend of Bobbi's, you get the
first drink free," said Emma.  "I'm more than Bobbi's friend," replied
Edith.  "I'm her mother."  In all the time I had known Emma, I had
never seen her be surprised by anything, but that seemed to shake her.
"You're her mother?," Emma asked.  "Yes," Edith answered, "and I'm very
proud of my daughter.  I came to see her dance tonight."  I had to get
backstage, so I asked Emma to make sure that Edith got seated at Jer-
ry's table.  I left them talking to each other like old friends.  I had
to get on the job for the last time here.

Most of the girls were already in the dressing room by the time I got
there, but Patty was conspicuous by her absence.  I hoped she was just
late, and not taking the night off.  I was friendly with all of the
girls in a sort of general way, but Patty was the only one I act-ually
thought of as a friend in the real sense of the word.  I did not want
my last show as one of the G.G.Girls Chorus Line to go by without
seeing her.  I changed quietly in my part of the room with only a few
remarks to the others.  It was now almost nine o'clock, and still no
Patty.

Then a commotion broke out in the hall.  Hardly a night went by here
without some sort of shouting match, so that was not an unusual thing
to happen.  With all the Pre-Op and Post-Op Transexuals around in vari-
ous levels of hormone therapy, things were bound to get a little crazy
as body chemistry fluctuated all over the place, swinging moods on an
emotional trapeze.  We all just stopped to listen, so we could tell if
it was someone we knew, if a fight was breaking out, if someone had
pulled a knife, or if someone was about to pull a gun.  Arguments were
daily, fights were weekly, knives were drawn about once a month, and
the bar was good for about one gun incident a year.  I do not recall
anyone ever getting seriously hurt in the bar.  That sort of mayhem was
reserved for the street outside.  The Gilded Grape was our protection
from it all.  Outside, the world was bent on mutual destruction, but in
here, we had a relative degree of safety.  The weapons might be bran-
dished, but never used.  It was a strange state of affair.

The voices in the hall soon resolved into Tina's and a much deeper male
voice that sounded familiar, but I could not quite place.  I could not
make out the first parts of the argument, but as the voices got closer,
I heard Tina say angrily, "You fucking better not be this fucking late
ever again, or I'll kick your fucking skinny whore ass off the stage!"
The deeper voice retorted, "All right!  Let up on it!  I told you it
wouldn't happen again, so let me get ready."  The door opened, and in
stepped Patty with Tina right behind her.  "Get ready, bitch!," Tina
shouted.  "We'll finish this later!"  Tina left, slamming the door be-
hind her, and Patty came over to our area to change.  She did not seem
all that upset by what had just happened.

"Hi," I said weakly.  "How's it going tonight?"  Patty looked at me,
and we both began to snicker.  We dare not laugh out loud, or Tina
might think we were laughing at her.  "Actually it's going pretty
good," said Patty, returning to her female voice again.  "Where were
you?," I asked, and she got this weird smile on her face.  "Getting
fucked," she answered.  This sort of caught me off guard with its
frankness.  "Oh?," I said.  "Was it good?"  Patty licked her lips, and
said, "Good?  Honey, you don't know that half of it!  I met this Str-
aight looking guy in the park the other day, and he tries to pick me
up.  I figure I can string him through dinner, tell him I got my period
and dump him.  Well, over a drink he tells me he thinks he saw me in
here once.  It turns out that he digs chicks with cocks.  He ain't let
me out of bed all week, and with his seven incher to sit on, I ain't
wanted to be let out.  I wish I could get a shower quick.  My ass is
squishing, and full of his cum right now."

It appeared that Patty was rather taken with this new young man of
her's, but we did not have time to discuss it further at that moment.
We agreed to meet for lunch later that week to talk more.  She also
seemed to know all about my leaving the way Margo did.  I wondered who
told who, and if there was anyone who did not know by now.  Patty made
a quick trip to the toilet to clean up while I covered for her.  It
would very soon be showtime!

The stage lights caught me full in the face as the curtain went up, and
while I was getting used to that happening, it meant that I could not
see the audience very well.  I wanted to have a quick look around for
Edith to be sure she was all right.  I need not have worried.  When I
did get a look at her, she was at a stageside table with a drink in
front of her, and talking happily with Jerry.  She seemed to be having
a very good time, and even enjoying the show when she stopped talking
to Jerry long enough to look at it.  She did watch me, though.  I liked
that.

There was not much socializing in the dressing room after the show.
Everyone seemed to have places to go, and things to do.  My joining was
a celebration, but my leaving was quiet.  Even Patty skipped out wit-
hout a shower, the quicker to get back to her stud.  I showered alone,
dressed, cleared out my locker, and dropped my keys in the office.  I
went to find Edith.

Edith was saying good night to Jerry when I found her.  Jerry never
stayed around the club much.  He was Straight, and only appeared in the
bar to see the shows.  He was actually a theatrical agent, and the bar
was just an investment where he showcased some of his minor talent in a
campy atmosphere.  "Are you ready to leave, or would you like to stay a
while?," Edith asked.  "Let's go," I said, and we hailed a cab outside.
"You seem quiet," Edith said as we rode home.  "Just thinking.  You
know I have a modeling assignment tomorrow night?," I said.  "That's
fine," Edith replied, "because I won't be home either.  I've got a date
with your friend Jerry."


Sub-title: Epilogue

The "Bobbi Story" you have been reading here is not a Fantasy story.  

Bobbi is a real person, and this is her autobiography, written by her 
18 months before her SRS (Sexual Reassignment Surgery).  

On March 28, 1991, Bobbi logged on to this BBS, and told me that her SRS
was complete, and she was beginning her NEW life as a total woman. The way
she always had felt she should be, and wanted to sever all ties with her 
former identity, and would no longer be logging on here, or any other BBS.  

Although our caller ID identified her location, her request for anonimity
was respected, and we bid her a fond farewell.  

Bobbi, 
   We wish you all the happiness and success in your new life.  
--