Easy As Falling Off A Bike.
by Angharad & Barbara Cartland.
part 29.

Author's Note: I can't believe I'm still writing this, originally I was going to do a blog about being caught in a thunderstorm whilst cycling. Instead I decided to turn it into a story, then to write the story directly to the website as a test of my imaginative skills and fast editing. Nothing written is planned beforehand, and it is quick checked afterwards for obvious errors. Then I post it.

I'm delighted it is read by so many, some of whom actually say so in comments. I don't know where it will go or for how much longer - it doesn't get any easier to write something each day that makes sense with what has gone before. If you think it is, why not have a try.
Thanks for all the comments and encouragements.
hugs,
Angharad.
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I slumped down in the chair in semi-shock. The professor was arranging cups and saucers together, "When you are ready, you can be mother," he joked, indicating I should pour the teas.

Somehow my hand wasn't shaking as much as I thought it would pouring two cups of tea from the silver tea pot. I passed him the little milk jug.

"You seem surprised at my suggestion?" said my learned host.

"Surprised doesn't quite cover it," I gasped back.

"What else was I supposed to do? I meet you walking around the town dressed as a woman, then a short time later our tete a tete is interrupted by a group of students whose collective IQ could be measured in single figures. Should I have told them the truth, or reported you for missing lectures?" He took a sip of tea and waited for me to answer.

I went to pick up my cup and this time the shakes got to me and I needed two hands to safely return it to the saucer. I looked at him, his eyes were sparkling with mischief, normally that would just egg me on, now it annoyed me.

"This isn't some game Professor Agnew, this is my life we are talking about. If I turn up to lectures in skirts and makeup, there will be no going back. I don't know if I am ready to commit to that yet."

"So why are you walking about as a woman now? Surely you could have made some other arrangement to pick up a bicycle? You already have another one in your room, so it wasn't essential to do today. Instead, you could have changed and come to lectures this afternoon."

I had no answer to his question, why was I still walking around in Stella's clothes? I picked up my cup in both hands, the tremor had gone. I took a sip of the tea and tried to think about what I was going to say.

"I don't honestly know why I was walking to the bike shop, except I thought I'd better get the bike while I was in this mode because Simon is sure to ask me about it tomorrow."

"You don't have to go on this date with him, you know, he has no legal way of coercing you into it."

"I suppose not, but I gave my word I would go."

"Under such pressure, I'm sure a change of heart is allowed."

"I try to stick to my promises, however unpleasant or unwise they are, it's the way I was brought up. My parents might not have got much else right, but I do understand the concept of honouring my word."

"Very laudable in normal circumstances, but aren't these just a bit different? Didn't you say, that Simon is probably unaware of your previous status?"

I was becoming increasingly embarrassed and unable to speak. I felt his eyes boring through the top of my skull as I looked down at my feet. I nodded to answer his question as my eyes filled with tears.

Little rivulets of scalding water began to dribble down my cheeks and my companion handed me his handkerchief, a large Persil-white, mens' one. I dabbed at my eyes, then remembered I had no eye makeup on, so I wouldn't mark his hankie.

"Are you all right Miss Watts?" he asked in a very caring way.

I nodded and continued weeping.

"I am concerned for you, believe me, I don't care what you wear or call yourself as long as your work is consistently good and on time. However, to try and live this double life, especially in the goldfish bowl we call the university, sooner or later you will be discovered and what happens then, who knows? The rabble like that earlier will delight in having a laugh at your expense, it might also get a bit physical. We have had the odd 'queerbashing' incident on campus despite our efforts to prevent such things. I don't want that to happen to you."

I continued to wet his handkerchief with tears and nodded my understanding. "I just don't know if I am up to making this commitment yet. It's all happened so quickly and I'm not prepared for it."

"In what way are you not prepared for it?" he asked, offering me his empty cup to refill with tea.

"All sorts of ways," I blustered back desperately trying to think of excuses.

He sat and sipped his second cup of tea, while I tried to crank up my brain.

"I don't have enough clothes or make up," I gushed, my brain was beginning to function - sort of.

"Most of my female students wear jeans and tee shirts in summer and jeans and jumpers in the winter, just like most of the boys."

"What about social events?" I countered, "women have to have much bigger wardrobes for that?"

"Really? Not from what I've seen around the campus and there is nothing to stop you from buying more clothes, in fact I'd have thought it was easier being able to go into shops and try them on."

"I'd need more makeup," I said realising how weak that was as an argument.

"Well, all you're wearing at the moment is lipstick, and you look fine to me."

"I'm not prepared mentally," I said looking at the floor.

"I was led to believe that transsexualism is an inherent condition in certain individuals and incurable. From what I have read, most transsexuals claim to have a female brain in a male body. Some research evidence, albeit contraversial, may uphold that view. If it is true, how can you prepare something you were born with?"

"I erm, I erm don't know." I wept again, totally defeated.

"Are you trying to tell me you don't know if you really are transsexual?"

I couldn't speak, I was so choked up, but managed to shake my head vigorously.

"So is it that you don't want live as a woman?"

Again I shook my head vigorously.

"So what is it then, cold feet?"

At this I burst into tears and nodded, I wished I was dead.

A waitress walked up and asked us if everything was all right, the professor told her we were discussing a family matter and thanked her for her concern. I felt even more stupid.

Here I was doing what I had dreamt of doing ever since I was about eight or nine years old, living as a girl. I was being offered the opportunity to continue doing it indefinitely and with official sanction, it was beyond my wildest dreams. So why the bloody hell was I making excuses?

Okay so there would be some awkward questions eventually as people twigged, especially on my course, but that would have happened anyway unless I'd disappeared and turned up somewhere completely new and even that has risks. At least here I'd have help to face down the dissenters, and high status help at that. So what was my problem?

Maybe it was because it wasn't my decision, or at least it wasn't at my pace, I was being forced along at someone else's pace. It felt uncomfortable and I wasn't in control of anything. This thing was assuming it's own momentum. What I didn't know was if that would happen anyway, once it began even if I had started it? I could only know that by experience.

As I sat leaning forward, the vee neck of the tee shirt was giving the prof a good view of such cleavage as I had. "You're taking oestrogens?"

I suddenly looked up and nodded, "Yes, for about six or eight months."

"I see they are having an effect."

I blushed and sat more upright, pulling the denim jacket closed around me.

"It was meant as a neutral observation. However, if you are having hormone therapy, doesn't it mean your transition and life test is imminent?"

I nodded. I felt the world was over and all my elation had gone flat. Was this what real life would be like rather than the fizz of the past twenty four hours?

"I think you had better collect your bicycle and get in touch with the doctor who prescribed your pills. Call me later and let me know what you are going to do. You know what I think, but it must be your decision that you go with." With that he rose from the table, paid the bill and left.

"Was that man bothering you?" asked the waitress.

"No he was trying to help me," I said, my eyes still leaking tears.

" Man problems?"

"Something like that," I said wiping my face.