A Woman’s Eyes
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

I always thought that I had a strong face. Girls called me good looking. They said that I had “come-to-bed eyes – China blue. I never had any trouble finding girls, which is why I took advantage. I guess that made me heterosexual. If you are desired by women, then you desire them back. It is simply how things work.

It was not until I met Fabian that everything changed. He told me that I had a woman’s eyes. Nobody had ever said that to me before. I suppose I felt a little insulted – like it was an attack on my manhood.

“With eyes like those you would make a truly gorgeous woman,” he told me. Who says stuff like that to another man. “If you were a woman looking at me with those, I would jump you in a heartbeat. I would spend all my money to make you happy.” He seemed totally serious.

It wasn’t like Fabian was gay. He had a girlfriend, and she was a good looker. But that made it even harder for me deal with. It was like he was looking past my eyes and right into my soul, and he was seeing something that I did not even know was there.

Or perhaps I did know, and I was doing my best to hide it. I had always thought of attractions to men as being admiration or envy, but not as being sexual. Like I said, I had women for that. But somehow Fabian was different, because he saw me differently.

I thought that the heavy brow and the sharp angles of my face would not be right, but he insisted that I go for one of those feminization makeovers, just to prove a point. He would pay and even buy me dinner.

I have to say that I was curious. It was just that insisted that whatever they did it needed to be invisible the morning after. He said that they knew what to do. “They have plenty of guys who just want to take a peek at the feminine self,” he said. I guess I was one of those.

Of course I did not look quite the way I do now. I have grown out my hair, and I confess that I have had my lips plumped since that first night together, but Fabian was right – even in a bad wig I could see that this was who I was. I have a woman’s eyes, you see.

He took me out to dinner as promised, but I was dressed as a woman – the woman I still am. I just felt so comfortable sitting across the table from him, and seeing people in the restaurant smile at us as a happy and attractive couple.

And then after dinner I was in his arms, and even more comfortable there. I just felt limp and yielding, and I loved the feeling. And then I was in his bed and things were settled. There would be no going back.

Once you have seen the world through a woman’s eyes you simply know that is your sex, and that is all there is to it.

The End

(c) Maryanne Peters 2022