9

I picked up a new job almost straight away. Christmas was approaching, the party season was in full flow, and the demand for catering staff was high. I flung myself into work with renewed vigour. I’d been at the new place only a few days when I received a text from Rachel. “Hi Sweetie. Back in UK. Dinner Friday? X”.

I delayed replying until I was home that evening and had more time to think. Did Rachel want to pick our relationship back up again now she was back from India? Did I want to pick it up again? The text was typically terse. I smiled as I remembered the evening we’d met – Rachel had always been quick to come to the point. But the biggest question I had was whether the dinner invite was for Dave or Sue. It felt like when we’d had our last night together at her house in LA she’d known I was committed to becoming Sue full time. But there had been so much left unsaid I couldn’t be sure. I’d forgotten how good we’d been together physically and the remembering made me ache. For a moment I even thought about meeting her as Dave and trying to put things back to where they’d been. But I’d come too far for that now. My choice was to go as Sue or not go at all. I texted back my acceptance.

If I was going to meet Rachel as Sue then I was determined that I’d look as good as I possibly could. It was a very upmarket restaurant where we were going to dine, and Christmas party season gave me every excuse to dress the part. I knew exactly what I was going to wear. The afternoon of our date I made an appointment with my old friends Tara and Jo, who’d done my hair and make up before the premiere back in summer.
“Hey, Sue! Great to see you!” Jo greeted me with a big hug. “So I hear you’re quite the little star these days…”
I grinned. “Oh, I don’t know about that! Destined for glorious obscurity it feels like if we don’t hear soon about the pilot. Still, at least I can afford my rent these days…”
“So what can we do for you?”
“Well, I’m meeting Rachel tonight – first time for ages – she’s been away. So I want to look my best. And I’ve got a few ideas for trying something a bit different…”

Jo started first with my nails. As I’d become used to being a working waitress I’d reluctantly trimmed my fingernails down to a more practical length so it was a pleasure to see them transformed back to being long and elegant. She painted them a deep glossy carmine red and made my toes to match. Whilst Jo worked on that I wallowed in the pleasures of a long, luxurious shampoo and blow dry from Tara, before she set my hair into a carefully informal and sexy French twist, a style I hadn’t tried before. I’d emailed Tara a photograph of how I wanted my make up and I relaxed and closed my eyes as she set to work. She used a pale foundation to suit my natural complexion, with just a hint of blush on my cheeks. The barest touch of eye shadow to emphasise the socket but then lashings of thick black eyeliner, extended past the corner of the eye, mascara and my eyebrows infilled with a dark pencil. She finished off with a creamy carmine lipstick to match my nails. Hair and make up done, I retired into a cubicle at the back of the salon to change into my dress.

Of course, I’d chosen to wear the 1950s black cocktail dress that I’d bought in Los Angeles with Meg. I’d bought some pure silk stockings to go with it, and I revelled in the sensation of drawing them slowly up my freshly waxed legs before clipping them to a gorgeously lacy black garter belt. A matching g-string completed the set. Next, I stepped into 3 layers of black net and lace petticoats, before slipping the dress itself carefully over my head, taking care not to muss my up-do, and smoothing the skirt down in a multitude of swirling taffeta pleats over the petticoats. As I held the bodice of the dress flat against my belly and arranged my breasts into the soft, cool, satin cups of the built in corset I was almost overcome by the new sensations flowing through my body. Tara helped to fasten the clips of the corset and then button up the row of tiny satin buttons at my back. A pair of 4 inch stiletto heeled patent court shoes completed the outfit. I stood staring at my reflection in the cubicle mirror for several seconds, captivated by my new cleavage, and then turned, beaming, to give Tara a big thank you hug.

I walked into the restaurant the way I’d walked into my audition when I’d been wearing the cheongsam. Slowly and deliberately pointing each toe, I saw Rachel sitting at the far end of the room watching me as I entered and then her expression change as I approached closer and she recognised me. She stood to greet me, we air kissed, and I sat, taking a cigarette from my clutch and inhaling deeply. We chatted amiably through starter and mains, like two businessmen making small talk before sealing the deal over brandy and cigars. The coffee arrived. Rachel straightened her pose and cleared her throat.
“Sue. The thing is, I wanted to say…” she hesitated for a moment.
The moment I’d been dreading had arrived. My stomach lurched, and the carefully assembled veneer of confidence I’d clothed myself in with my dress, my hair, and my sashay to the table shattered instantly. Rachel continued.
“The thing is. When I texted you the invite for tonight, I didn’t address it to either Dave or Sue. I think I knew, deep down, that it would be Sue that would come. I think I’ve known ever since that first time you dressed up – even then there was something about the way you held yourself, the way you moved…and I know you’re happy, and you never were as Dave, not 100%. But I still hoped it would be Dave who would turn up tonight, that we could go back to where we were when we first started seeing each other.” She paused briefly. “I feel like Pandora. I’ve opened the box. It’s me who started you on this road. And it’s too late now to go back. And look at you – you look so amazing. And you’re making your way now as an actress. I’m so proud of you. But it was Dave I fell in love with. He might have been a little awkward, and gawky, and not this incredible beautiful swan that is opposite me now. But I miss him. I’m sorry. I don’t know…” her voice tailed off.
I think if Rachel had simply said that she’d met someone new and wanted to end things I’d have been fine. But I’d never expected her to say this. In all the time that we’d been together we’d never really talked about how we felt for each other. We’d had so much fun with our physical relationship, and we were so different in so many ways, it had never even occurred to me that she was in love with me. And if she’d told me, would I have been able to do anything about it? Or would I already have been too far down the road towards Sue? I burst into tears.
“I’m sorry Rachel, I’m so, so, sorry…”
She rested a hand on mine, but the tears kept coming. I was sobbing now, uncontrollably.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry…”

I got up from the table and ran out of the restaurant. I didn’t want Rachel to come after me and, even though it was raining steadily outside, I kept running down the street, across the lights on red, a car swerving wildly to avoid hitting me, and on into the next street. The rain was merging with my tears as they ran down my cheeks. I could taste their salt on my lips. My hair had come unclipped and it hung, soaked and matted, against my neck and shoulders. My dress was soaked through, the underskirts clinging to my legs. On I ran until my feet began to bleed through the ruins of my shoes. At last I found myself on a bridge over the Thames; I didn’t recognise which one. It was quiet. The evening traffic had died down, there was no wind and the only sound was the hiss of the rain landing on the surface of the water. I stared down into the blackness, my knuckles white, clinging to the parapet. A voice behind me.
“Miss? Miss? Are you alright?”
I turned around. A black cab had stopped, it’s driver stood outside, his door open, a newspaper over his head sheltering him from the rain.
“Miss? You’ll catch your death at this time of the night, soaked to the skin like that. Can I take you home? Take you to a friends?”
I slumped over the parapet, exhausted now. He came and took me by the hand back to his cab, draped a blanket over me, and took me home. Back in the flat I ripped the dress off, pinging the tiny buttons everywhere. I climbed into the shower, still in my underwear, and lay there, huddled in a foetal position, crying and shivering, until there was no hot water left in the tank. As the last of my tears drained away I towelled myself down, and crawled into bed.

-

I awoke late the following morning bathed in sunlight streaming through the bedroom window. There was bright blue sky outside and the roof of the terrace opposite me was swaddled in a thick coating of fresh virgin snow. I lay in bed quietly for a few moments. I felt like one of those patients who wakes up clear headed for the first time after several days of fever. I’d cried so much it was like I was purged, or sated. I took a deep breath, held it for several seconds and then exhaled slowly. I thought of what Rachel had said about Dave last night. My heart went out to her. I could give her a call in a few days. Maybe, after everything we’d been through we could still be girlfriends.

I closed my eyes and took several more breaths. I was interrupted by the doorbell ringing downstairs. I wasn’t expecting any visitors, and I couldn’t remember ordering any packages recently. I ignored it, but a few seconds later it rang again. I climbed out of bed. My nightgown was hanging on the door and I slipped it over my head, fumbled my arms through the sleeves of my robe and tied it at the waist. I paused briefly at the mirror. The shower last night had done a good job of removing any vestigial make up left after the run in the rain. My hair, on the other hand, did nothing to camouflage the consequences of last night’s activities. Ah well, I thought, it would have to do.

The brightness of the sun on the snow outside cast the figure standing beyond the glazed front door into silhouette. There was something about the shape of the body, the wide shoulders, that caused my pulse to quicken as I accelerated down the hallway. I flung the door open wide.
“Ryan!”

We fell into each other’s arms. I drowned in the taste of his kisses, his smell, his big bear arms holding me tight like our two bodies were merging into each other. I don’t know how long we stood like that, on the doorstep, but eventually the signal reached my brain that my bare feet were stood in four inches of snow. I grabbed Ryan’s hand and pulled him inside.
“How did you know where I lived?”
“Meg. She told me at the party she was going to be in Liverpool doing Othello. I tracked the theatre down. I told her I wanted it to be a surprise. I’m on my way back home. We finished shooting in Kenya a couple of days ago.” He kissed me again. “I’ve missed you, Sue. Leaving you at the party the way I did…”
“it’s ok. Come on.” I took his hand again. “We can make up for lost time…”
I took him through to my room. We stood facing each other. He loosened the bow in my robe and it slipped to the floor. Then, gently sliding a finger along each collar bone, he eased the straps of my nightgown over my shoulders and I gasped as the silk brushed over my contours as it fell. I stood before him naked for the first time, acutely aware of how obviously turned on I was.
“I’m sorry. It freaks you out doesn’t it?”
He kissed me again softly. “Don’t be silly.” I felt his hand run through the neatly trimmed patch of pubic hair at my groin, gasping as his fingertips brushed along the underside of my penis. “It’s kinda cute. Like I’d imagined it.”
“You’re the first…I mean I…since I…I’ve not been with a man before…”
“It’s ok.” And then he grinned and gave me a gentle squeeze down there and I squealed. “I can’t say I’ve much experience of this kind of thing either.”
I giggled.

He picked me up and laid me down softly on the bed. I watched as he undressed and then he joined me, sliding his way up my body, kissing his way up my legs, over my belly, across my breasts. He parted my legs and slid in between them, his penis pushing insistently against me.
“Wait!” I rolled him over, pushing my body back into his, my breasts into his chest, my hands roaming over his torso until it was his turn to gasp as I gripped his shaft. I kissed him slowly, our tongues intertwining, as my carmine nails teased through his pubic hair, cupping his balls and gently scratching along his length. Gripping him more firmly, I began to slowly pump up and down as I kissed my way down his hairy chest and across his belly until, working my way down the bed, I peeled back his foreskin and licked my way around his glans. He moaned, and I pumped a little harder, taking him fully into my mouth now whilst still playing my tongue around and over and under, pumping and licking. Just when I though he couldn’t hold out any longer he flipped me back over again so that he was back on top, and then again so that I was belly down on the bed. I felt his hand slide down between my legs and reach under to grip me, then a retreat as it slid back slowly, a finger finding my hole and sliding in as I pushed back. I felt his remaining fingers grasp his own shaft, guiding it into place. As he withdrew his digit there was a brief moment of pain as he pushed against me, and then a release as I closed around him, the head of his penis inside me.
He drew my hair away from my neck and nibbled gently. “Is that ok, baby?”
I grunted my assent, and he eased his way further in, all the time licking his way from shoulder to earlobe, his free hand under my body, caressing my breasts. With each stroke he went a little deeper. I could feel his body tensing with every push. At last, I came, crying out, my body spasms tipping him in turn beyond the point of no return as well. He gripped me tight until we both stopped shaking and I lay with my head on his chest, Ryan stroking my hair softly.

We made love for the rest of the day, and on into the small hours of the following morning.

I awoke the next day with that deep, languid, contentedness that comes with a good nights sleep. I lay there quietly, still and warm, for a while thinking back to the events of the previous day. I rolled over to Ryan, but his side of the bed was empty. I sat up suddenly, remembering that morning, several months ago now, when Rachel’s side of the bed had also been empty, and how life had changed since then. The bedroom door swung open and Ryan appeared with a breakfast tray.
“It looks beautiful out there, baby. What would you like to do today?”

THE END

EPILOGUE

THE WOMAN TURNS LEFT AND APPROACHES A DOOR WITH A NAMEPLATE ‘DEBORAH JONES, PARTNER’. SHE ENTERS, AND SITS AT THE DESK.