Paul & His French Maid
Copyright JustinSilk 2002. All Rights Reserved
Chapter Five : Into her Pants
Over the next week, Nicole and I fell deeper and deeper in love.
I had expected her to be less charming and more demanding as the days went by, but, if anything, she simply became more and more adorable.
She gradually moved in the rest of her possessions -- helped by her brother, an openly-gay and strikingly handsome man perhaps a year or so older than Nicole. It was obvious that, like her, he came from a very good family.
Since the university semester did not start for a week or so, there was little evidence of Nicole's academic career. One night when I came home, she was reading some lecture notes she had written during the day and the room we had turned into her study was strewn with books -- mostly in French -- on painters of the period she principally taught.
It was the first time I had seen her in glasses and, not surprisingly, given my feelings for her, I instantly adored her intellectual appearance.
She was a strange mixture of the enormously-intelligent academic and the air-headed slut. It was a wonderful combination.
I had studied art during my younger days and still had a great love for painting in particular. I couldn't believe my luck.
It was probably on the Wednesday evening that Nicole suggested she take me to a club she knew for dinner. It would be our first outing-- in both senses of the word - together.
We showered, of course and, naturally, made love as we did so. [I won't bore you with the details: making love in the shower to a beautiful woman is, after all, a common enough pastime].
When she was satisfied that we were both squeaky-clean, Nicole led me to my [our] bedroom and took charge of getting us ready to go out. I say `us' because she was very anxious that I should be dressed to her satisfaction just as she expected to dress for my approval.
"Because you are such a `unk - is that the right word? -- I shall get very excited if you are wearing ... this."
From one of her lingerie drawers she produced a tiny pair of pure white silk jersey panties.
They were very similar to a male silk bikini style I sometimes wore myself. But, unlike my own briefs, it was obvious even as she held them up for my appraisal that they were hand-made.
"You want me to wear a pair of your panties?" I asked quietly.
"Why would that turn you on? I thought you loved me because I am all-man. How could my wearing your silky briefs give you a buzz? If you want me to, of course I'll wear them, I love the feeling of silk, always have, but I can't see what's in it for you."
"You `ave never been excited by knowing something -- a secret - that nobody else can know?" Nicole was smiling faintly.
"Of course I have. But I can't put myself into your mind, can I? I mean, I'm me and you're you and no matter how close we are, I can't ever have exactly the same thoughts as you."
"Paul, I can't explain why I want you to do it, I just do. I definitely don't want to turn you into somebody like me. But a very masculine man wearing something very feminine always seems to me to be the man's ultimate expression of confidence. I would not recommend you wear a bra. With your physique it would just be too amusing. But these teensie weensie silky sexy panties. Just sooooo érotique. But darling, if you don't want to, I won't force you, my gorgeous, wonderful lover."
The truth was that I loved sexy underwear and had several silk items -- men's, of course -- of my own. But I took the panties from Nicole and, taking her into my arms, kissed her, our cocks rubbing against each other as I did.
"Tell me about the Club," I said.
"The club is ..."
Nicole stopped mid-thought and taking the panties from my hand, ordered me to step into them so she could slide them up my legs.
"The club is ... what?" I asked.
"I can't remember what I was going to say, darling," she replied softly as she took my stiffening cock and carefully arranged it inside the gleaming satin. "You'll see."
"Is it some academic place? You said it was not far from the university."
"Yes. Quite close. But not h'academic. Aesthetically, I like it. It appeals more to my, er, senses than to my mind. But you will like it, I am sure. Let it be a surprise darling. I am paying. Just look at yourself in the mirror. Don't you look so very sexy in those tiny briefs? The starkness of the white against the bronze of your skin. The softness of the silk around the hardness of your shaft. Well, I think you look very sexy. And that is all that matters, n'est-ce pas? Oui? Look how they cling to your beautiful cock. Why don't all men wear sexy lingerie like that?"
It's very hard to argue with the one you love about something he or she thinks erotic. So I smiled and agreed. I agreed because she was right. The femininity of the very plain and very tiny white silk garment seemed to emphasise the muscularity of my well-tanned body and, therefore, my total masculinity. The silk being so fine, the panties showed very clearly the contours of my swollen cock. But Nicole was now getting dressed herself, satisfied that I had done what she wished.
She started with an underwired platform bra in the same delicate jersey as `my' panties, but in black and edged with fine french lace. It left her swollen nipples to peak out from behind the lace. I had imagined that she would next choose a matching garter belt with six suspenders for each stocking, such as she normally wore. Instead she slipped on a pair of black silk panties (like mine save that they were trimmed with the same lace as the bra and garter belt. My god, she looked beautiful.
As I was buttoning my shirt I watched her roll a sheer stocking up over a beautiful leg. She then repeated the process on the other leg. They stayed up of their own accord.
I noticed, also, that she hadn't worn a gaff to hide her one remaining male attribute as I had seen her do once or twice before. I would soon enough discover why not.
The black silk slip or chemise -- I can't work out if there is a difference -- was obviously new. I loved the cut of it and the intimations of erotic pleasures in its gleaming softness. I think that slips are my favourite items of female attire. I imagined they must be very erotic to the wearer. Something like fabric fingers.
Nicole selected a torso-tight black dress, flared from the hips, and caressed it down over her curves, turning to the mirror to check its lift. I saw a flash of stocking-top as it lifted very prettily.
Finally, she took from her - what do they call it in the US? -- closet, a glistening black fur bolero jacket, to guard against the cold night air. Delicate little high black pumps with needle heels completed the ensemble. The effect was stunning. I applauded with fast and tiny little claps to show my appreciation.
"Darling, you look adorable. Though won't the little bulge in your tiny panties, um, spoil the illusion? Should we dance and your hem go up, I mean?"
"Little? My bulge is as big as yours, almost. What is that song they used to sing? Don't worry. Be appy'. I am happy -- very - as you see."
And so that I didn't mistake what she was saying, my gorgeous Nicole drew her perfectly-manicured fingernails sexily up over her crotch, lifting the skirt to reveal the well-packed panties.
What was a man to say?
Nicole called for a taxi. We had decided that whenever we went out we would go by taxi, since, although neither of us drinks a great deal, Nicole, in particular, was quite strict about drink-driving.
Being new to the city, I had no idea where we were going, but as the taxi drew to a halt outside a very grand building on the fringe of the downtown area I felt reassured. A young man in a top hat and uniform stepped out of the doorway to open the door of the cab. This club of Nicole's was clearly not run-of-the-mill. Stepping out of the car, I turned to help my beautiful escort into the street.
I paid the driver and since I had my wallet in my hand, handed a tip to the doorboy. "Thank you, sir," he said. "If you and madame will follow me."
So he was sharp, too, noticing Nicole's accent. Calling her `madame' he looked her very intently in the eye.
When we reached the front door he rang a bell and the door was opened by another young man who was instructed to show us into the club. This boy was clearly younger than and junior to the doorman. He wasn't wearing a top hat, but his uniform appeared otherwise to be very similar to that of the man who had brought us to the door.
At least that's the way it seemed until we stepped through the door and in the light of the lobby I was able to see some differences. They almost made me gasp.
He was practically naked, or might as well have been, so little did what clothes he wore conceal.
It was clear that one was supposed to admire his body. And there was a great deal to admire about it. The short black jacket with its satin lapels was made of something that looked like chiffon and hugged his muscular upper body as a glove clings to the hand. Or a well-fitted black condom another part of the anatomy.
Perhaps appropriately, the boy's pants, also of some dark diaphanous shiny material, would have revealed the hairs on his legs had there been any. You won't be surprised then to hear that, since he appeared to have forgotten his underwear, his considerable organ of generation was more than adequately displayed.
Nicole noticed the startled look on my face.
"How would you like to suck on that, darling?" she whispered with a giggle.
I had no idea what to reply and, when our usher asked us to follow him I did so with startled and slightly embarrassed fascination. Not wishing to look uncool, I hoped that nobody would notice.
In spite of his outfit not being what the average young fashion-conscious male was, so far as I knew, wearing on the street, there was nothing overtly effeminate about him. He didn't mince, although I couldn't help watching the firm orbs of his backside undulate and rub against each other as he walked.
I wondered if perhaps I should offer him the little panties I was wearing. But that, I thought, would make the effect even more erotic. And, in the way of these things (although I can't think why) I was reminded of something I hadn't thought of for years.
Some years earlier, in London, at the home of a colleague, I had seen a black and white photo. It was one of the most erotic and disturbing images I had ever seen.
As we discussed our business matters I found the large, framed print behind my colleague's head extremely distracting.
"Sexy, isn't it?" he smiled, noticing my interest.
"It's of a man called Peter Berlin. He took the picture himself." Redundantly, he added, "He's gay." Then, becoming embarrassed and probably wanting to change the subject, added, "Quite clever, his use of double-exposure, I always think."
Emulsions, stop numbers and film speeds were far from my mind ... and I wasn't even gay. But I was getting a hard-on.
In the picture, Berlin, wearing a transparent body-clinging top, tiny see-through string pouch and -- I think - boots and socks, stands over a supplicant and aroused youth, also portrayed by himself.
"What a beautiful ass," commented Nicole unnecessarily, noticing that my attention was rivetted to the motion of our attendant's muscular orbs. "It's giving me a stiffy."
"You are with me, remember?" I said, surprised at my annoyance. The first little flash of anger I had shown since we'd met.
I wondered briefly what this was all about. Was I angry with Nicole? Or with my own fascination with the beautiful ass? Was it Nicole's focussing my attention on it? Was I, as the phrase goes, `in denial'? My own sexual denial - was that what was getting under my skin? "I've got you under my skin."
Nicole kissed me on the cheek.
"Oh. Can it be? My wonderful lover is unsure of himself? Paul, cheri, don't be silly. I'm a woman and I like men's asses. I LOVE yours. I love YOU. But I can't help admiring a beautiful ass. Don't be silly."
As she took my hand and tugged lovingly on my arm, I relaxed and smiled. The world was dishing out faster then I could ingest. Let alone digest. It was serving faster than I could return.
I was on a learning curve that rose more sharply than even my dick so frequently had done these past few days. Normally - if there is such a state - most days for most people are groundhogged, if you know what I mean. The same things seem to happen in more or less the same sequence. Over and over and over and over. We like it that way.
What a lot can be crammed into a few paces along a corridor.
Nicole reached up and bussed me on the cheek again as we approached an impressive doorway.
Two twelve- or fifteen-foot doors grew in impressiveness as we approached. To their right on the wall was a discreet plaque bearing a single word: "Xtase".
I read it first as Xtease, then, re-reading it, thought it could be the name of some artificial sweetener. Finally, I realised that it was a misspelling of the French for ecstasy.
In fact, I was about to discover, it might have represented all three.
We were ushered through the doors into a large and graciously-furnished room in which a number of people were standing in groups.
They were all elegantly dressed, men and women in equal numbers.
There was the usual buzz of conversation and laughter.
Few took any notice of our entry.
We were asked politely to sign the guest book by a young lady in an elegant but revealing short black shantung dress which flared slightly at the hem and showed a majority of her sensationally long and shapely legs.
The automatic thought that the legs were the shortest route to an equally-astonishing butt sprang into my mind. A glimpse of stocking-top had me mentally humming a snatch of Cole Porter. What I had seen in the past few minutes had indeed been shocking.
"I can't bear it any longer, sweet lady," I said to Nicole. "Where am I?"
Nicole looked me seriously in the eyes, her own flicking from one to the other and suggesting her own anxiety.
"Darling, this is one of the most exclusive clibs in town. In fact, it's very ard to become a member. I ave belong for only two month."
Nicole's pronunciation of club made me smile as she was interrupted by a waiter who brought a silver tray on which sat two glasses of champagne. I didn't dare inspect his clothing.
"But what kind of club?" I pressed.
"You will see. Just notice that there are other girls like me. And ordinary men and women, too. Also, sometimes quite well-known people, men, who like to dress like ladies. People like to come here because it is sooooooo discreet. And fun. And sexy. Not ... what's the word? ... sleazy, just sexy. The sexiest clib I ever went to."
With the champagne in my hand, I felt less uncomfortable. Until, that is, from behind my back, I heard a laugh which I immediately wished I hadn't recognised.
"Oh no," I moaned.
"Quoi?"
"That's Harvey's laugh. What will he think if he sees me here?'
"What do you think now you know he's here?"
Nicole was right, of course. A friend of mine, a longtime member of a Twelve-Step group, had suffered for years from his particular addiction, frightened to go to the meeting that undoubtedly saved his life in case he might be known by some other member.
"Darling, if you want to go, we'll go. I didn't think you would be so . . . sensitive. Of course you feel a little strange, but there are many people here just like you. No, there is nobody here just like you. I promise you that you will have a wonderful time. Of course you will be a little shocked, just as you were when you, er, discover about me."
"That was in private."
"So you are embarrassed by me. You don't want people to know that you are in love with -- if you really are -- a transsexual. You are frightened that people will think that you are gay. Your mind is in conflict with itself. I love you, Paul. I can't believe how much I love you. When you are asleep I lie beside you listening to your breathing, your awful snoring, your talking to yourself. This is serious, mon ange. Very serious. If you feel this way now after the most exciting days of your life, after I have tell you things I have never tell to anybody else, what are we to do after a month, a year, two years?"
Tears welled in the beautiful eyes I wanted to look away from. Everything Nicole said was true. I needed time to think, but that would give her time to think as well, about all the negatives in our relationship.
"If you want we will leave now, Paul and I will go back to stay with my brother. Or we can talk some more about this at dinner, although I am no longer wishing to eat. Let us go."
I had gone cold with fear. I had insulted Nicole with my comment about private being different from public. Something told me to pull her to me. She resisted, for a moment. Then she relaxed into my arms, little sobs slowly stopping.
"Oh Paul, I love you so much. I never thought about how you will feel when we have to meet people. I have a doctorate and I like to think I am not stupid. But tonight I am so stupid. It's too early to bring you here, especially since you did not know to what I was bringing you."
I lifted her chin.
"I am at least as stupid. I'm so sorry about saying that our first encounter was in private. I didn't mean it the way it sounded. It was different. But you are right. How long could two people in love keep themselves to themselves. Perhaps seeing the boys in their outlandish outfits and ..."
Nicole smiled.
"We are both, what do you say, dick'ead. Of course there are complications. Perhaps they are more difficult than for ordinary lovers. Even gay lovers. But I really believe that we love each other. Even more important, we like each other. Complications can be solved. I don't want to lose you."
"Would you care for more drinks sir, madame?"
The bottleblond with the carefully-applied lash-lengthener radiated some high-powered cologne in my direction. "Or are you ready to be seated for dinner?"
"We'll be seated, I think. Will that be OK with you madame?" Looking at the sad little creature, I smiled. She reached up and kissed me lovingly on the lips.
"I'll just go and repair my makeup. Then we'll go in to dinner."
"Very good, madame," said the pretty waiter.
Alone, I looked around the room to see if I could spot Harvey. I hoped I wouldn't. I did. And he me.
He winked -- I wish he wouldn't do that -- and, making apologies to the lady to whom he was talking, came over.
"Hey, Paul. Good to see yah. Didn't know you were a member, though. And where's that gorgeous Nicole?"
We could have been at a football game, so unsurprised was Harvey at seeing me here.
"What a surprise to see you here. Having been in this town for less than three months, I don't expect to meet many faces I recognise. It's quite a place. Been here before?"
Harvey laughed.
"Been here before? I been here almost every night since it opened last year. I'll let you in on a secret: I own the joint. Or a large part of it. But I don't put it about. Don't talk about my investments all that much."
"Larry! Quel surprise! What are you doing here?"
Nicole slipped a hand into mine and squeezed it as she directed a cold smile towards Harvey.
"Larry, or Harvey as he prefers to be called, owns the place. But don't tell a soul."
Harvey laughed heartily again. "Larry. I love it, Michelle."
The hatred between the two of them was fresh and effective.
"Oh Harvey, excuse me. I once knew a man in London called Larry and is second name was arvey. I am a very bad person. Please forgive me."
Harve wasn't the kind of guy to get the wrong side of. And since he lived in the next apartment, I was grateful that Nicole picked up on the fact.
"Honey, a doll like you is automatically forgiven. If there's anything to forgive, which there isn't. Anytime you get tired of this hunk, you know where I live. Only kiddin', Paul."
Our waiter, watching his boss chatting to us, hovered and Harvey called him over.
"Gaston, I want you to take special care of Mr Paul and Miss Nicole here tonight. Anything they want, they get, OK? They are very good friends of mine. Please give them the VIT suite or if that's taken, my own. I shan't be here tonight."
"Very well, Mr Harvey. Mr Paul, Miss Nicole, I shall wait over here until you are ready to go to table."
The waiter lowered his head and walked across to the end of the bar where he stood quietly waiting.
"Gaston is French. Quite a looker, too, huh?" asked Harvey. "He'll take excellent care of you tonight. I'm sorry I can't be with you, but I have to do the rounds. Now where's Sharee? See you soon."
He blew us each a kiss and headed for the exit.
This was turning out to be one amazing evening.
Copyright © JustinSilk 2002. All Rights Reserved
Chapter Six : Club Feat
The VIT Suite was a fairly spacious room with a dinner table for two next to a window overlooking what looked like a dance floor. To say that it was sumptuous would almost be an understatement.
Our waiter asked if we would like more champagne and poured two glasses. He pointed out various controls -- for temperature, lighting, sound, service, etc - on the console beside the table, then retired, explaining that nobody could enter the room unexpectedly nor see in through the window.
"Your complete privacy is guaranteed. I shall bring your choice of dishes and wines. Please choose from the menu and when you are ready, speak to me by this telephone. I hope you have a most enjoyable evening."
As soon as he closed the door, Nicole was in my arms.
"Oh, Paul, please forgive me. I was so thoughtless bringing you here tonight. I hope so much you ..."
I didn't give her a chance to finish. It's very difficult to talk with your mouth full of your lover's tongue. It was a long and lingering kiss and it excited both of us considerably.
By its end, the crown of my cock had pushed out of the little silk panties Nicole had asked me to wear and the bulge in Nicole's panties was considerably more substantial than it had been when we entered the room. I felt it.
"Um, I want you so much. But now I am hungry. You, too? We should order." It seemed that Nicole was also a very practical woman.
The dinner was superb and as soon as it was finished Nicole stripped down to her expensive and exquisite undies.
"Why don't you do the same?" she suggested.
"Are you sure that nobody can see in through the window?" I asked.
"Go and see for yourself."
Beside the big window was a door on to the dancefloor and, being cautious, I decided to do as Nicole suggested. One or two couples were dancing romantically and I was surprised when our door opened and Nicole in her very sexy undies came out and joined me, guiding me to the dance floor.
"Will you dance with me, monsieur?"
More and more couples were coming on to the floor and we danced as I relaxed more.
Several couples were in their underwear, male and ... female? I couldn't be sure about the women.
Most, to be sure, were attractive, but none as beautiful as the woman in my arms.
Eventually, after a sance or two, the lights dimmed and a husky voice greeted us: "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Xtase ... your city's most exclusive, most exotic, most exciting and now ... most explicit place of entertainment. Ladies and gentlemen, Xtase is proud to present for your erotic pleasure `The Transformaidens'. Please return to the complete privacy of your suite, make yourselves comfortable, kick back and enjoy the show."
I had sampled enough champagne now and felt reassured enough by Nicole to feel comfortable as we settled down on the banquette to watch the show. The table had been moved while we had been dancing and a note on the banquette assured us that we would not be disturbed further, but that should we wish anything we could ring for service at any time.
"Come here, gorgeous man," said Nicole, who was in the best of moods. We kissed passionately and I was then stripped to my panties by my adorable lover.
The show, as you've probably guessed, was not what you'd expect at your local dramatic society.
The arena was plunged into complete darkness. An excellent sound system in the suite delivered an orchestra as two follow-spots picked out a very handsome couple who walked towards each other as they began singing a love song -- I don't know what it was called -- written it would seem, especially for the show.
It wasn't bad and the lyrics were tasteful enough and titillating at the same time.
They told each other in song how they had longed for each other since the time they first met and described the things that had caught each other's imagination.
Where the song varied from traditional love songs was in the slow and careful striptease that took place as it was being sung.
Behind them a huge four-poster bed suggested that they were young lovers about to consummate their love for each other. I would have thought they would have been more urgent, but love has to give way to art I suppose.
While this was going on, Nicole began to stroke me through my little silk panties and it wasn't long before my cock flicked out of them and stood, oozing precum which Nicole was soon licking up, prior to plunging her mouth down the length of my cock.
Something similar was happening on the stage, where it had become obvious that the voices we were hearing were not those of the performers, who had retired to the bed.
As the song continued -- the melody anyway - the action in the arena became more explicit.
The woman tore off the man's jacket. She removed his tie. Unbuttoned his shirt to reveal a muscular and hairy chest. Then ripped open his pants to reveal a massive and impressively-hard cock, the head of which gleamed erotically in the spotlight. There was no doubt in my mind that this guy was genuinely turned on.
Now completely nude, the young hunk allowed himself to be administered to by his beautiful young girlfriend. As she played with his cock, he started to strip her. Her tasteful black cocktail dress went with a single movement of his right arm, leaving her in a black satin basque, silk stockings and very high-heeled pumps.
Pulling her into his arms, he pushed his prick between her legs and began making suggestive movements with his hips.
I don't suppose I should have been surprised that when the man turned her around and tore off her tiny black silk thong, he revealed that she, too, had the most enormous hard-on.
I'm sure the idea is now clear to you. Suffice to say that Nicole and I were very tired by the time we got home.
Chapter Five : Into her Pants
Over the next week, Nicole and I fell deeper and deeper in love.
I had expected her to be less charming and more demanding as the days went by, but, if anything, she simply became more and more adorable.
She gradually moved in the rest of her possessions -- helped by her brother, an openly-gay and strikingly handsome man perhaps a year or so older than Nicole. It was obvious that, like her, he came from a very good family.
Since the university semester did not start for a week or so, there was little evidence of Nicole's academic career. One night when I came home, she was reading some lecture notes she had written during the day and the room we had turned into her study was strewn with books -- mostly in French -- on painters of the period she principally taught.
It was the first time I had seen her in glasses and, not surprisingly, given my feelings for her, I instantly adored her intellectual appearance.
She was a strange mixture of the enormously-intelligent academic and the air-headed slut. It was a wonderful combination.
I had studied art during my younger days and still had a great love for painting in particular. I couldn't believe my luck.
It was probably on the Wednesday evening that Nicole suggested she take me to a club she knew for dinner. It would be our first outing-- in both senses of the word - together.
We showered, of course and, naturally, made love as we did so. [I won't bore you with the details: making love in the shower to a beautiful woman is, after all, a common enough pastime].
When she was satisfied that we were both squeaky-clean, Nicole led me to my [our] bedroom and took charge of getting us ready to go out. I say `us' because she was very anxious that I should be dressed to her satisfaction just as she expected to dress for my approval.
"Because you are such a `unk - is that the right word? -- I shall get very excited if you are wearing ... this."
From one of her lingerie drawers she produced a tiny pair of pure white silk jersey panties.
They were very similar to a male silk bikini style I sometimes wore myself. But, unlike my own briefs, it was obvious even as she held them up for my appraisal that they were hand-made.
"You want me to wear a pair of your panties?" I asked quietly.
"Why would that turn you on? I thought you loved me because I am all-man. How could my wearing your silky briefs give you a buzz? If you want me to, of course I'll wear them, I love the feeling of silk, always have, but I can't see what's in it for you."
"You `ave never been excited by knowing something -- a secret - that nobody else can know?" Nicole was smiling faintly.
"Of course I have. But I can't put myself into your mind, can I? I mean, I'm me and you're you and no matter how close we are, I can't ever have exactly the same thoughts as you."
"Paul, I can't explain why I want you to do it, I just do. I definitely don't want to turn you into somebody like me. But a very masculine man wearing something very feminine always seems to me to be the man's ultimate expression of confidence. I would not recommend you wear a bra. With your physique it would just be too amusing. But these teensie weensie silky sexy pantie. Just sooooo érotique. But darling, if you don't want to, I won't force you, my gorgeoous, wonderful lover."
The truth was that I loved sexy underwear and had several silk items -- men's, of course -- of my own. But I took the panties from Nicole and, taking her into my arms, kissed her, our cocks rubbing against each other as I did.
"Tell me about the Club," I said.
"The club is ..."
Nicole stopped mid-thought and taking the panties from my hand, ordered me to step into them so she could slide them up my legs.
"The club is ... what?" I asked.
"I can't remember what I was going to say, darling," she replied softly as she took my stiffening cock and carefully arranged it inside the gleaming satin. "You'll see."
"Is it some academic place? You said it was not far from the university."
"Yes. Quite close. But not h'academic. Aesthetically, I like it. It appeals more to my, er, senses than to my mind. But you will like it, I am sure. Let it be a surprise darling. I am paying. Just look at yourself in the mirror. Don't you look so very sexy in those tiny briefs? The starkness of the white against the bronze of your skin. The softness of the silk around the hardness of your shaft. Well, I think you look very sexy. And that is all that matters, n'est-ce pas? Oui? Look how they cling to your beautiful cock. Why don't all men wear sexy lingerie like that?"
It's very hard to argue with the one you love about something he or she thinks erotic. So I smiled and agreed. I agreed because she was right. The femininity of the very plain and very tiny white silk garment seemed to emphasise the muscularity of my well-tanned body and, therefore, my total masculinity. The silk being so fine, the panties showed very clearly the contours of my swollen cock. But Nicole was now getting dressed herself, satisfied that I had done what she wished.
She started with an underwired platform bra in the same delicate jersey as `my' panties, but in black and edged with fine french lace. It left her swollen nipples to peak out from behind the lace. I had imagined that she would next choose a matching garter belt with six suspenders for each stocking, such as she normally wore. Instead she slipped on a pair of black silk panties (like mine save that they were trimmed with the same lace as the bra and garter belt. My god, she looked beautiful.
As I was buttoning my shirt I watched her roll a sheer stocking up over a beautiful leg. She then repeated the process on the other leg. They stayed up of their own accord.
I noticed, also, that she hadn't worn a gaff to hide her one remaining male attribute as I had seen her do once or twice before. I would soon enough discover why not.
The black silk slip or chemise -- I can't work out if there is a difference -- was obviously new. I loved the cut of it and the intimations of erotic pleasures in its gleaming softness. I think that slips are my favourite items of female attire. I imagined they must be very erotic to the wearer. Something like fabric fingers.
Nicole selected a torso-tight black dress, flared from the hips, and caressed it down over her curves, turning to the mirror to check its lift. I saw a flash of stocking-top as it lifted very prettily.
Finally, she took from her - what do they call it in the US? -- closet, a glistening black fur bolero jacket, to guard against the cold night air. Delicate little high black pumps with needle heels completed the ensemble. The effect was stunning. I applauded with fast and tiny little claps to show my appreciation.
"Darling, you look adorable. Though won't the little bulge in your tiny panties, um, spoil the illusion? Should we dance and your hem go up, I mean?"
"Little? My bulge is as big as yours, almost. What is that song they used to sing? Don't worry. Be appy'. I am happy -- very - as you see."
And so that I didn't mistake what she was saying, my gorgeous Nicole drew her perfectly-manicured fingernails sexily up over her crotch, lifting the skirt to reveal the well-packed panties.
What was a man to say?
Nicole called for a taxi. We had decided that whenever we went out we would go by taxi, since, although neither of us drinks a great deal, Nicole, in particular, was quite strict about drink-driving.
Being new to the city, I had no idea where we were going, but as the taxi drew to a halt outside a very grand building on the fringe of the downtown area I felt reassured. A young man in a top hat and uniform stepped out of the doorway to open the door of the cab. This club of Nicole's was clearly not run-of-the-mill. Stepping out of the car, I turned to help my beautiful escort into the street.
I paid the driver and since I had my wallet in my hand, handed a tip to the doorboy. "Thank you, sir," he said. "If you and madame will follow me."
So he was sharp, too, noticing Nicole's accent. Calling her `madame' he looked her very intently in the eye.
When we reached the front door he rang a bell and the door was opened by another young man who was instructed to show us into the club. This boy was clearly younger than and junior to the doorman. He wasn't wearing a top hat, but his uniform appeared otherwise to be very similar to that of the man who had brought us to the door.
At least that's the way it seemed until we stepped through the door and in the light of the lobby I was able to see some differences. They almost made me gasp.
He was practically naked, or might as well have been, so little did what clothes he wore conceal.
It was clear that one was supposed to admire his body. And there was a great deal to admire about it. The short black jacket with its satin lapels was made of something that looked like chiffon and hugged his muscular upper body as a glove clings to the hand. Or a well-fitted black condom another part of the anatomy.
Perhaps appropriately, the boy's pants, also of some dark diaphanous shiny material, would have revealed the hairs on his legs had there been any. You won't be surprised then to hear that, since he appeared to have forgotten his underwear, his considerable organ of generation was more than adequately displayed.
Nicole noticed the startled look on my face.
"How would you like to suck on that, darling?" she whispered with a giggle.
I had no idea what to reply and, when our usher asked us to follow him I did so with startled and slightly embarrassed fascination. Not wishing to look uncool, I hoped that nobody would notice.
In spite of his outfit not being what the average young fashion-conscious male was, so far as I knew, wearing on the street, there was nothing overtly effeminate about him. He didn't mince, although I couldn't help watching the firm orbs of his backside undulate and rub against each other as he walked.
I wondered if perhaps I should offer him the little panties I was wearing. But that, I thought, would make the effect even more erotic. And, in the way of these things (although I can't think why) I was reminded of something I hadn't thought of for years.
Some years earlier, in London, at the home of a colleague, I had seen a black and white photo. It was one of the most erotic and disturbing images I had ever seen.
As we discussed our business matters I found the large, framed print behind my colleague's head extremely distracting.
"Sexy, isn't it?" he smiled, noticing my interest.
"It's of a man called Peter Berlin. He took the picture himself." Redundantly, he added, "He's gay." Then, becoming embarrassed and probably wanting to change the subject, added, "Quite clever, his use of double-exposure, I always think."
Emulsions, stop numbers and film speeds were far from my mind ... and I wasn't even gay. But I was getting a hard-on.
In the picture, Berlin, wearing a transparent body-clinging top, tiny see-through string pouch and -- I think - boots and socks, stands over a supplicant and aroused youth, also portrayed by himself.
"What a beautiful ass," commented Nicole unnecessarily, noticing that my attention was rivetted to the motion of our attendant's muscular orbs. "It's giving me a stiffy."
"You are with me, remember?" I said, surprised at my annoyance. The first little flash of anger I had shown since we'd met.
I wondered briefly what this was all about. Was I angry with Nicole? Or with my own fascination with the beautiful ass? Was it Nicole's focussing my attention on it? Was I, as the phrase goes, `in denial'? My own sexual denial - was that what was getting under my skin? "I've got you under my skin."
Nicole kissed me on the cheek.
"Oh. Can it be? My wonderful lover is unsure of himself? Paul, cheri, don't be silly. I'm a woman and I like men's asses. I LOVE yours. I love YOU. But I can't help admiring a beautiful ass. Don't be silly."
As she took my hand and tugged lovingly on my arm, I relaxed and smiled. The world was dishing out faster then I could ingest. Let alone digest. It was serving faster than I could return.
I was on a learning curve that rose more sharply than even my dick so frequently had done these past few days. Normally - if there is such a state - most days for most people are groundhogged, if you know what I mean. The same things seem to happen in more or less the same sequence. Over and over and over and over. We like it that way.
What a lot can be crammed into a few paces along a corridor.
Nicole reached up and bussed me on the cheek again as we approached an impressive doorway.
Two twelve- or fifteen-foot doors grew in impressiveness as we approached. To their right on the wall was a discreet plaque bearing a single word: "Xtase".
I read it first as Xtease, then, re-reading it, thought it could be the name of some artificial sweetener. Finally, I realised that it was a misspelling of the French for ecstasy.
In fact, I was about to discover, it might have represented all three.
We were ushered through the doors into a large and graciously-furnished room in which a number of people were standing in groups.
They were all elegantly dressed, men and women in equal numbers.
There was the usual buzz of conversation and laughter.
Few took any notice of our entry.
We were asked politely to sign the guest book by a young lady in an elegant but revealing short black shantung dress which flared slightly at the hem and showed a majority of her sensationally long and shapely legs.
The automatic thought that the legs were the shortest route to an equally-astonishing butt sprang into my mind. A glimpse of stocking-top had me mentally humming a snatch of Cole Porter. What I had seen in the past few minutes had indeed been shocking.
"I can't bear it any longer, sweet lady," I said to Nicole. "Where am I?"
Nicole looked me seriously in the eyes, her own flicking from one to the other and suggesting her own anxiety.
"Darling, this is one of the most exclusive clibs in town. In fact, it's very ard to become a member. I ave belong for only two month."
Nicole's pronunciation of club made me smile as she was interrupted by a waiter who brought a silver tray on which sat two glasses of champagne. I didn't dare inspect his clothing.
"But what kind of club?" I pressed.
"You will see. Just notice that there are other girls like me. And ordinary men and women, too. Also, sometimes quite well-known people, men, who like to dress like ladies. People like to come here because it is sooooooo discreet. And fun. And sexy. Not ... what's the word? ... sleazy, just sexy. The sexiest clib I ever went to."
With the champagne in my hand, I felt less uncomfortable. Until, that is, from behind my back, I heard a laugh which I immediately wished I hadn't recognised.
"Oh no," I moaned.
"Quoi?"
"That's Harvey's laugh. What will he think if he sees me here?'
"What do you think now you know he's here?"
Nicole was right, of course. A friend of mine, a longtime member of a Twelve-Step group, had suffered for years from his particular addiction, frightened to go to the meeting that undoubtedly saved his life in case he might be known by some other member.
"Darling, if you want to go, we'll go. I didn't think you would be so . . . sensitive. Of course you feel a little strange, but there are many people here just like you. No, there is nobody here just like you. I promise you that you will have a wonderful time. Of course you will be a little shocked, just as you were when you, er, discover about me."
"That was in private."
"So you are embarrassed by me. You don't want people to know that you are in love with -- if you really are -- a transsexual. You are frightened that people will think that you are gay. Your mind is in conflict with itself. I love you, Paul. I can't believe how much I love you. When you are asleep I lie beside you listening to your breathing, your awful snoring, your talking to yourself. This is serious, mon ange. Very serious. If you feel this way now after the most exciting days of your life, after I have tell you things I have never tell to anybody else, what are we to do after a month, a year, two years?"
Tears welled in the beautiful eyes I wanted to look away from. Everything Nicole said was true. I needed time to think, but that would give her time to think as well, about all the negatives in our relationship.
"If you want we will leave now, Paul and I will go back to stay with my brother. Or we can talk some more about this at dinner, although I am no longer wishing to eat. Let us go."
I had gone cold with fear. I had insulted Nicole with my comment about private being different from public. Something told me to pull her to me. She resisted, for a moment. Then she relaxed into my arms, little sobs slowly stopping.
"Oh Paul, I love you so much. I never thought about how you will feel when we have to meet people. I have a doctorate and I like to think I am not stupid. But tonight I am so stupid. It's too early to bring you here, especially since you did not know to what I was bringing you."
I lifted her chin.
"I am at least as stupid. I'm so sorry about saying that our first encounter was in private. I didn't mean it the way it sounded. It was different. But you are right. How long could two people in love keep themselves to themselves. Perhaps seeing the boys in their outlandish outfits and ..."
Nicole smiled.
"We are both, what do you say, dick'ead. Of course there are complications. Perhaps they are more difficult than for ordinary lovers. Even gay lovers. But I really believe that we love each other. Even more important, we like each other. Complications can be solved. I don't want to lose you."
"Would you care for more drinks sir, madame?"
The bottleblond with the carefully-applied lash-lengthener radiated some high-powered cologne in my direction. "Or are you ready to be seated for dinner?"
"We'll be seated, I think. Will that be OK with you madame?" Looking at the sad little creature, I smiled. She reached up and kissed me lovingly on the lips.
"I'll just go and repair my makeup. Then we'll go in to dinner."
"Very good, madame," said the pretty waiter.
Alone, I looked around the room to see if I could spot Harvey. I hoped I wouldn't. I did. And he me.
He winked -- I wish he wouldn't do that -- and, making apologies to the lady to whom he was talking, came over.
"Hey, Paul. Good to see yah. Didn't know you were a member, though. And where's that gorgeous Nicole?"
We could have been at a football game, so unsurprised was Harvey at seeing me here.
"What a surprise to see you here. Having been in this town for less than three months, I don't expect to meet many faces I recognise. It's quite a place. Been here before?"
Harvey laughed.
"Been here before? I been here almost every night since it opened last year. I'll let you in on a secret: I own the joint. Or a large part of it. But I don't put it about. Don't talk about my investments all that much."
"Larry! Quel surprise! What are you doing here?"
Nicole slipped a hand into mine and squeezed it as she directed a cold smile towards Harvey.
"Larry, or Harvey as he prefers to be called, owns the place. But don't tell a soul."
Harvey laughed heartily again. "Larry. I love it, Michelle."
The hatred between the two of them was fresh and effective.
"Oh Harvey, excuse me. I once knew a man in London called Larry and is second name was arvey. I am a very bad person. Please forgive me."
Harve wasn't the kind of guy to get the wrong side of. And since he lived in the next apartment, I was grateful that Nicole picked up on the fact.
"Honey, a doll like you is automatically forgiven. If there's anything to forgive, which there isn't. Anytime you get tired of this hunk, you know where I live. Only kiddin', Paul."
Our waiter, watching his boss chatting to us, hovered and Harvey called him over.
"Gaston, I want you to take special care of Mr Paul and Miss Nicole here tonight. Anything they want, they get, OK? They are very good friends of mine. Please give them the VIT suite or if that's taken, my own. I shan't be here tonight."
"Very well, Mr Harvey. Mr Paul, Miss Nicole, I shall wait over here until you are ready to go to table."
The waiter lowered his head and walked across to the end of the bar where he stood quietly waiting.
"Gaston is French. Quite a looker, too, huh?" asked Harvey. "He'll take excellent care of you tonight. I'm sorry I can't be with you, but I have to do the rounds. Now where's Sharee? See you soon."
He blew us each a kiss and headed for the exit.
This was turning out to be one amazing evening.
Copyright © JustinSilk 2002. All Rights Reserved
Chapter Six : Club Feat
The VIT Suite was a fairly spacious room with a dinner table for two next to a window overlooking what looked like a dance floor. To say that it was sumptuous would almost be an understatement.
Our waiter asked if we would like more champagne and poured two glasses. He pointed out various controls -- for temperature, lighting, sound, service, etc - on the console beside the table, then retired, explaining that nobody could enter the room unexpectedly nor see in through the window.
"Your complete privacy is guaranteed. I shall bring your choice of dishes and wines. Please choose from the menu and when you are ready, speak to me by this telephone. I hope you have a most enjoyable evening."
As soon as he closed the door, Nicole was in my arms.
"Oh, Paul, please forgive me. I was so thoughtless bringing you here tonight. I hope so much you ..."
I didn't give her a chance to finish. It's very difficult to talk with your mouth full of your lover's tongue. It was a long and lingering kiss and it excited both of us considerably.
By its end, the crown of my cock had pushed out of the little silk panties Nicole had asked me to wear and the bulge in Nicole's panties was considerably more substantial than it had been when we entered the room. I felt it.
"Um, I want you so much. But now I am hungry. You, too? We should order." It seemed that Nicole was also a very practical woman.
The dinner was superb and as soon as it was finished Nicole stripped down to her expensive and exquisite undies.
"Why don't you do the same?" she suggested.
"Are you sure that nobody can see in through the window?" I asked.
"Go and see for yourself."
Beside the big window was a door on to the dancefloor and, being cautious, I decided to do as Nicole suggested. One or two couples were dancing romantically and I was surprised when our door opened and Nicole in her very sexy undies came out and joined me, guiding me to the dance floor.
"Will you dance with me, monsieur?"
More and more couples were coming on to the floor and we danced as I relaxed more.
Several couples were in their underwear, male and ... female? I couldn't be sure about the women.
Most, to be sure, were attractive, but none as beautiful as the woman in my arms.
Eventually, after a sance or two, the lights dimmed and a husky voice greeted us: "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Xtase ... your city's most exclusive, most exotic, most exciting and now ... most explicit place of entertainment. Ladies and gentlemen, Xtase is proud to present for your erotic pleasure `The Transformaidens'. Please return to the complete privacy of your suite, make yourselves comfortable, kick back and enjoy the show."
I had sampled enough champagne now and felt reassured enough by Nicole to feel comfortable as we settled down on the banquette to watch the show. The table had been moved while we had been dancing and a note on the banquette assured us that we would not be disturbed further, but that should we wish anything we could ring for service at any time.
"Come here, gorgeous man," said Nicole, who was in the best of moods. We kissed passionately and I was then stripped to my panties by my adorable lover.
The show, as you've probably guessed, was not what you'd expect at your local dramatic society.
The arena was plunged into complete darkness. An excellent sound system in the suite delivered an orchestra as two follow-spots picked out a very handsome couple who walked towards each other as they began singing a love song -- I don't know what it was called -- written it would seem, especially for the show.
It wasn't bad and the lyrics were tasteful enough and titillating at the same time.
They told each other in song how they had longed for each other since the time they first met and described the things that had caught each other's imagination.
Where the song varied from traditional love songs was in the slow and careful striptease that took place as it was being sung.
Behind them a huge four-poster bed suggested that they were young lovers about to consummate their love for each other. I would have thought they would have been more urgent, but love has to give way to art I suppose.
While this was going on, Nicole began to stroke me through my little silk panties and it wasn't long before my cock flicked out of them and stood, oozing precum which Nicole was soon licking up, prior to plunging her mouth down the length of my cock.
Something similar was happening on the stage, where it had become obvious that the voices we were hearing were not those of the performers, who had retired to the bed.
As the song continued -- the melody anyway - the action in the arena became more explicit.
The woman tore off the man's jacket. She removed his tie. Unbuttoned his shirt to reveal a muscular and hairy chest. Then ripped open his pants to reveal a massive and impressively-hard cock, the head of which gleamed erotically in the spotlight. There was no doubt in my mind that this guy was genuinely turned on.
Now completely nude, the young hunk allowed himself to be administered to by his beautiful young girlfriend. As she played with his cock, he started to strip her. Her tasteful black cocktail dress went with a single movement of his right arm, leaving her in a black satin basque, silk stockings and very high-heeled pumps.
Pulling her into his arms, he pushed his prick between her legs and began making suggestive movements with his hips.
I don't suppose I should have been surprised that when the man turned her around and tore off her tiny black silk thong, he revealed that she, too, had the most enormous hard-on.
I'm sure the idea is now clear to you. Suffice to say that Nicole and I were very tired by the time we got home.