His instructions had been simple. Suzie was to text him when she arrived at the hotel. He had chosen it carefully. Reception was on the first floor but the lift would take her from the entrance to his level directly. All he needed to do was leave the corridor pass door open and she could arrive unseen. He would also leave his room door ajar. She was to come in, close the door and head into the bathroom without a word. She could take as long as she needed to change. And prepare. Once ready, she should open the bathroom door, simply say "Sir", and wait. He would tell her when she could actually leave the bathroom. The arrival went without a hitch. Once in the room she closed the door, slipped quietly into the bathroom and closed that door too. Quickly, she undressed, removing the hated drab male clothes. Underneath, her body had been well prepared for this meeting. Smooth, soft and completely hairless. Toenails painted. She was already wearing sheer black stockings held up by a black satin suspender belt, and tight black satin panties. Outside the suspender belt. Swiftly she added the bra, expertly fastening it behind her back, the black satin slip matching the rest of the underwear and the close-fitting animal print dress. She stepped into the black high-heeled pumps and moved to the mirror to do her make-up. She applied it rapidly, against her natural perfectionist tendencies to take her time. The thought had occurred that taking too long to get ready would annoy him. The final touches. The wig had volume at the top, was wedged in at the back, and the sides tapered down to thin wisps. Expensive-looking streaks and highlights. A dab of Dior fragrance behind the ears and at the wrists. The plain silver bangle that she always wore. Finally the nails. A tiny little pot, very expensive, but the only way to ensure that it dried quickly enough. The same colour as her toenails, of course. She hesitated very briefly, then opened the door. Remember, pitch up a little, slightly breathy, feminine intonation. She said the word. "Sir". She heard him moving. The room got much darker as she heard him draw the curtains. "Come" was all he said. She saw him seated in the chair, a large comfortable chair. The only light in the room was from a floor lamp behind him, covering him in a pool of warmth. He was dressed in a smart, charcoal grey suit, open collared light blue shirt, black shoes. And a blindfold. "I want you to be at ease", he began. "I've decided that we will continue our virtual meeting face to face. You will maintain your precious anonymity, while I may be open. We have explored each other's minds but the process is somewhat laboured. So, Suzie, you will be free to be yourself. We will talk, I will continue to ask you all about yourself, your past and what it is like to be a woman trapped in a man's body. The more you reveal the more I will. I want to explore your mind, you want to explore my body. Unless you choose to remove this blindfold, I will not see you." There was a silence. "Agreed?" Suzie knew him well enough. This was a pact with the devil. "Yes", she whispered. "Come here, please." The please was an afterthought, a faint nod towards politeness. Suzie walked over to him. His hand reached out towards her. It brushed her leg. She felt him establish whereabouts the hand was on her. He discovered her knee. Her black-stockinged knee. The hand moved slowly up her leg, reaching the hem of her dress, a few inches above the knee, and moving slowly but inexorably on. She felt him brush up her thigh and a tiny spasm danced up her body. She felt him move more carefully as he neared her panties. It was deliberate, she realised, he was building the tension. His first finger almost imperceptibly brushed against her tight satin panties. She could not stop a slight intake of breath. He heard it. A slight smile appeared on the mouth below the blindfold He feathered with an almost implausible gentleness. He was deliberately trying to feel the panties and not her. "Already," he paused, "a hint of moisture." It was true. She reddened slightly. He couldn't see that, but she knew that he knew. "Now, I would like a drink. The bottle is on the table. I bought you a choice, help yourself." She moved across to the table, already feeling a tiny pang of disappointment that this disconnected his finger from her panties. Suzie poured him a half inch of Macallan single malt whisky and took it over to him. She put it on the table and guided his hand to it. Her turn to touch him. A massive, strong hand, so much larger than hers. And hairier. A hand that could do damage in so may ways, she thought. She chose a large glass of white wine. Dutch courage. What had she done? What was she doing? "Take a seat." She felt odd at first, seated looking at the sightless man who wanted to probe her psyche. He was a scriptwriter in real life as well as being a man who enjoyed the physicality of being with a T-girl. Their relationship had started that way, him trying to seduce her. His initial advance had been I'm a nice guy, I can string a whole sentence together' but it was a thin veneer over you're close and I want to fuck you'. But she made it work, made him seduce her slowly, allowing her time and discretion. She knew, of course, that he knew, of course, that she wanted him. His body, his physicality. She fell for him on sight, just his first profile pics. She flattered him, reeled him in. He drip fed her more, reeled her in. This evening was his idea, maybe hers too. She was, as a woman, a virgin. She knew that to achieve the womanhood that she so craved, she must eventually give up her virginity one way or the other. Until his contact it was likely to be the other, give in, settle for being a wannabe. Instead, she chose to give it to him and this was the night. She would give him her mind, her memories, fantasies & fears. She would let him seduce her mind into giving him everything. He would talk her into walking, freely, knowingly, onto the sacrificial altar. She would leave that hotel room a woman. "Suzie, tell me about the first time you dressed."
She stood up and moved over to him. This was a risk. He might not be pleased. But she didn't want to be sitting opposite him, as if it were a session with a therapist, or, God forbid, a psychiatrist. As she told her story, she wanted to be touching him. This was a big thing for her, and she wanted it to lead on to something. If not now, then maybe never? She sat down gently on his lap, and swivelled so that her legs pointed out at right angles to his. She felt a twitch from inside his trousers & almost giggled. Reassured, she draped an arm around his shoulders and began her story.
"I always knew that there was something different about me. Not something wrong exactly, more like something missing. I think other boys knew as well. Throughout school, I was always just tagging along, just tolerated. I was never part of the group. Although I wanted to belong, I didn't really want to be like them. It wasn't me.
During my first few weeks at University I was lucky, I fell in with some girls on the course and through them met their friends. They must have realised that I wasn't a threat, that I wouldn't try it on and that it was safe to invite me to things. I probably knew that myself, but we have an infinite capacity to suppress and ignore things that we don't want to acknowledge.
There was one girl in particular, Heather. She was, frankly, mousey. We spent a lot of time together, just the two of us. From the outside, it probably looked like a normal boyfriend-girlfriend thing. We held hands in public. We slept in the same bed. It wasn't sexual, but neither of us cared. We were getting mutual support out of it. We were intimate in a way that men can probably never understand."
Suzie felt his attention had waned a little, but this titbit had bought him right back to her.
"One day, we were getting ready for a party - probably an end of term prom thing. Neither of us really wanted to go, but it was the done thing. We were in her room. She was getting ready. Make-up, underwear, dress, hair. As I watched, she was transformed into something I had never seen before, and I realised that all women, even the plainest, had the possibility of transforming themselves, with make-up, clothes, underwear and hair into someone who, by virtue of their physical attractiveness, had a power over men. I was jealous. So jealous.
I asked if I could try. I had meant just the make-up, it was the age of New Romantics, Adam Ant, so boys in make-up were not exceptional. But Heather took over.
We never made the prom, we spent the rest of the evening in that room, with her making me up, dressing me, transforming me. I was shocked at what I could look like.
Elated.
Frightened - it suddenly became clear to me where this might lead.
From that evening on, she moulded me. Bought me clothes. Taught me about make-up, deportment, moving in a feminine way. I think she realised that she was losing something, but that I was not happy before and now I was. At least happier. I will always love her for that."
"Was it the simply the clothes and makeup, or was it her intimate attention, the way she treated you differently when she could dress you. You were responding to her, enjoying the new dimension but actually it was the novelty of being desired that mattered to you?
Or was it something more fundamental? Do you think you're a woman in a man's body?"
So many questions.
"All of those things, except the last one. I immediately felt more comfortable in women's clothes. More myself. I had always found men's clothes boring. And also uncomfortable. The tie is the stupidest invention ever. I hated that the only option for men to dress up for an occasion was the suit, whereas women had so many more options that felt nicer and were far more comfortable to wear."
"You don't like me in this suit?" He interrupted. There had always been a verbal joust in their relationship & he knew he had her.
She gave him that one. "You tease! You know how good you look." Suzie wished she had said sexy instead of good. Too late, she thought. Time to get him back.
"I loved her attention. No-one had ever shown that interest in me before, no-one had ever invested that much time and effort in making me look desirable and to make me happy.
But no, I don't think I'm a woman in a man's body. I don't hate my body and don't want to change it. We still have a society where, despite it becoming more and more obvious that actually there is an entire spectrum between masculine and feminine, most people feel forced into clearly adopting one of these roles, and society still works on that basis. I am more comfortable - more successful, in fact, at the female end of the spectrum, therefore I present as a female, but it's still me in my body."
She hesitated. Don't rant Suzie, reel him in.
"I found that I was becoming attracted to men. One evening we were in her room, just studying, but I was fully dressed. A boy from her drama group came by to drop off a script. I was initially petrified, but it became clear that he accepted me as a girl. I was elated. I'd never even noticed him before & he was nothing to look at, but I realised that, dressed, I fancied him."
"And?" He interrupted, eager for her story.
"Nothing. I didn't know what to do. I had all these feelings but had no idea what should happen next. I was desperately shy & naïve as a boy, but as a girl I was totally innocent.
That evening, after he left, Heather and I had sex. She put her hand up my skirt, felt my erection. She played with me, masturbated me. She told me to imagine that she was him. That it was his hand."
"Did you have sex with her often?"
"No, we both knew that was a one off. We stayed very intimate, both mentally and physically. Once we had got past that evening, I realised that I could tell be honest with her about everything. We shared her deepest thoughts. Physically, we kissed, we hugged, we cuddled, we slept in the same bed. But it was a very female form of intimacy. I never penetrated her, I'm not sure if I could."
Again she hesitated.
"I like women. But now, I realise that the thing that excites me most, gives me butterflies in my stomach, my grand passion if you like, the thing I need to complete me ... "
Nerves were overtaking her, round and round she went, repeating the same few words, the sentence she dare not finish.
"Is a man." He said her words for her.
"Come with me, let me guide you these last few steps, let me complete you." He reached up, his blindness made him clumsy. He turned her head, moved it towards him, but it wasn't him moving her, his hands were just the opportunity, the freedom for her to kiss him. For her to kiss a man.
Her first kiss.
A teenager's kiss at 48.
Again, longer, more passionate, more adult.
Quietly, as if offering her forbidden fruit he said "Here is a remote. You press, the camera takes a picture, shows on the laptop and saves to a memory stick. You take it with you. I keep nothing. Your chance & your choice." She pressed the button. The flash interrupted their intimacy, but the result was a surprise. She looked OK. She took a couple more, taking care in how she looked at the camera. She looked more than OK, she looked as she dreamt she might. Suzie worried each time she dressed that her eyes were deceiving her, showing her what she wanted to see. These told her a wonderful truth, set against him, she looked as she always hoped. She was a woman. The band kept playing, the couple kept dancing. He, motionless, led her. She glided across the dancefloor of her life and her femininity. Adroitly he guided her away from the dark corners of the floor where fear and loathing sat like scowling gooseberries with whom no-one would ever dance. He kept her gliding in the light as the band's tempo gradually increased. She asked him to stand, removed his jacket. Slid her fingers between the buttons of his shirt. Flash. She slightly hitched up her skirt to allow her leg to extend beyond him. Flash, flash. The screen approved. Rewarded her. The band played on. She eased aside the buttons on his shirt, delighted that her nail varnish exploded out from the screen. Flash, flash, flash. He was a rock, she a climber nimbly descending. As the band sped up he kept guiding her dance. His shirt now hanging open from his broad shoulders. Her hand trembled as she pulled at his belt. She triggered but no longer looked back at the screen, trusting her instincts. She hesitated. A thin layer of fabric was all that separated her from him. She could see he was all man. "Suzie." It was the first time she had heard him speak her name. "I want you." She knew it, she could see it. There was no flattery, no deception, nothing unreal about this. He, the suave, articulate, charming man was also him, Neanderthal, primitive. Suzie held his hand, slipped the remote to him. Sank to her knees. Put her hands around his waist and pulled down his trousers and boxers. He kicked them away. There it stood. Her choice. Her chance. Don't fear the reaper, one life, no regrets. Open wide. She became a woman. She was a woman wanted by a man and she felt amazing. All the words she had read in other's accounts of sex, all the images she had seen. They were her now. He helped her up, his sightless eyes looked deep inside her. Expertly he released the clip at the top of her dress, eased it off her shoulders and helped it to the floor. She stepped out, stood before him. He caressed her, explored her. His hands softer than she had expected, gentler in the touch, eager in exploration yet discreet. Both his hands brushed down the small of her back, inside her panties. They cupped her bottom, matched her curve perfectly. Don't take them off, she thought, please don't, please don't stop, take them off, please. "Take them off." She whispered. She heard his appreciative breath, felt his admiring hands, the conduit to the mind of the sightless. She knew she had a pert bottom and great legs, revelled in his tactile admiration as the black satin panties dropped to her ankles. "Come on the bed." He was almost tender. The blind and the virgin guided each other to the middle of the bed. The large, white duvet welcomed her as he gently pressed her shoulders down. She was almost in a trance as she felt his weight, then watched him reach for the carefully positioned bottle. The realisation of what it contained was overwhelmed by the shock of his fingers. The lube. The sensation of him touching her, like the first sunlight on a frosty spring morning bringing life into her world. Her thoughts became jammed, her breathing stopped. She was a rabbit in his headlights. Powerless. It was a whole new world. Not a new world, another dimension. Pure womanly, sensual, carnal pleasure. She knew nothing like this. His fingers expertly teased her, aroused her, built her nerves to a peak. Every cell in her body was awake and listening to her pussy as he played. Then she felt him. His cock. So hard and so hot. Pressing. Pressing harder. Forcing her towards the pillows. She held still. Pushed back. Pushed herself onto him. Felt herself give. Give in. Then her head exploded. Her eyes saw galaxies of stars, her lungs had every drop of air stolen from them and she gasped as it left. He knew. He knew to hold still and allow her to battle with her orgasm. He knew she would fail. He had taken a virgin before and he knew she could not control her residual body. It felt so natural to her. Her body was finally at peace with herself. She squirted in ecstasy like any woman would and she loved it. She relished the feelings of delight as the pleasurable tide ebbed away leaving just his massive presence inside her. She knew he was nothing unusual, she'd seen him up close and taken him whole in her mouth. Yet inside her, he felt a giant. A giant who had started to move. Slowly at first. His hands on her hips, holding her steady as he built up speed. His balls now slapping against her. Harder, faster. Each thrust causing her to gasp. Articulate, erudite, educated Suzie became monosyllabic. "Oh Fuck." "Don't stop, please don't stop." On and on, harder and faster. Flipping her effortlessly over to her side, then to her back. Pulling her ankles over his shoulders, forcing her double, pounding her. She was a ragdoll. Finally he flipped her once again and she knew this was the end. His breathing became heavy, each thrust accompanied by a grunt and then the final tsunami of his lust. He roared. Froze, then buckled helplessly away from her and onto the bed. She curled, subconsciously pulling away from him. Her pussy spoke for all her body as it throbbed. She knew she needed the toilet and fast, but she also knew she needed to be away from him too. She gathered her clothes & padded uncertainly to the sanctuary of the bathroom. The mental dawning of that spring morning showed her future. She was woman and she loved it. She had made her choice, had him take her virginity and now she could be free. She could look anyone in the eye and say "I am Suzie." She gathered the bag with the drab grey clothes, remembered the memory stick and left, tall, proud and free. He removed his blindfold as he heard the door close on him.