In the following weeks, Greg came into the office area once or twice about some case or other, but he paid no particular attention to me, and I came to the conclusion that the 'chemistry' I had felt that first day I met him was all in my imagination.

Another week passed, and one day I stayed back in the office to finish off some urgent work, for one of Greg's cases as it turned out, and when I walked through the front door of the building to head for the bus stop I discovered to my dismay that it was pouring with rain, and I had no coat or umbrella with me. I huddled by the door, peering at the sky, hoping the rain might ease soon, when the door opened behind me and a voice said “I hope you're not planning to make a dash for it — you'll get soaked.”

It was Greg Thompson and I knew I was blushing with pleasure at seeing him.

“I tell you what, my car is parked in the basement — why don't I run you home?”

“Oh that's very kind of you but I couldn't possibly...”

“Nonsense,” he interrupted “It would be my pleasure.”

We took the lift down to the basement car park. There was only one car left there — a shiny new model Mercedes. He opened the front passenger door and I sat down, swiveling into the seat, my legs together in the approved ladylike fashion, sinking into the soft leather, and inhaling that 'new car' smell. Greg sat in the driver's seat and grinned at me.

“New car,” he said “I like to turn them over every two years before they depreciate too much.”

“It's lovely,” I murmured “So comfortable. I've never had a car, let alone a new one.”

“I tell you what — since you've stayed back to finish off that file for me, why don't we go for a drink somewhere?” Greg said as he started to drive out of the car park.

“I'd like that.” I replied. I knew I was blushing again, but hopefully he was concentrating on his driving and wouldn't notice. We reached the street and I noticed that the rain had stopped as suddenly as it had begun, leaving the streets shining with the reflections of lights. I half expected Greg to say now that the rain had stopped he would drop me at the bus stop, but he didn't.

Instead he said “I don't know about you, but I skipped lunch and I'm positively ravenous. How about a meal as well as a drink?”

I had missed lunch too, and I wondered if he had heard my stomach rumbling but was too polite to say so?

“That would be lovely.” I replied, wondering if I was starting to sound like a broken record.

“Good.” said Greg as he drove on with apparent purpose. When we stopped at some traffic lights he punched a number into his hands-free car phone.

“Ciao Georgio,” he said “Posso ordinare un tavolo per due? About ten minutes? Grazie mille.”

I was greatly impressed. “You speak Italian?” I asked

Greg laughed “Just about enough to order a table at a restaurant.”

A few minutes later he swung the car into the forecourt of one of Brisbane's top hotels. This time it was one of the hotel staff who opened the door for me, and I again performed the maneuver to alight in a lady-like manner. Meantime, Greg walked around from the driver's side and handed over the car keys to the valet, saying we'd be about two hours.

We walked into the hotel foyer, and it was like entering a palace. I'd never seen such an impressive building. Without hesitation, Greg steered me towards the lift and punched the first floor button. At the entrance to the restaurant we were met by Georgio himself who smiled and greeted us warmly. He led the way to a table by the window overlooking the city lights, held the chair for me to sit and placed a snowy-white linen table napkin on my lap before producing two copies of the menu. I noticed that mine did not mention the price of any of the dishes. I looked at it feeling rather overwhelmed. Greg noticed this and came to my rescue.

“Do you fancy meat, fish or poultry?” he asked kindly.

“Err meat, steak I think.” I answered.

“In that case may I suggest the filet mignon? They do a particularly good one here.”

I gratefully went along with his suggestion, and he ordered one for himself too. In the meantime the sommelier arrived (I learned later that that was what he was called) to discuss wine with Greg, After some discussion he disappeared and returned with a bottle of French Cabernet Sauvignon and poured a little into Greg's glass for tasting. The wine receiving approval, he then half-filled my glass and then Greg's. All this I watched with fascination. I had drunk wine before of course, but never had I seen it delivered with such ceremony, and I guessed correctly that this was not your average red wine. I took a cautious sip, and even my uneducated palate could tell that this was something special.

Greg smiled “I can see that you are enjoying it.”

“Oh yes!” I replied.

The fillet mignon when it arrived was amazing. It almost melted on the tongue. I ate slowly, savouring every mouthful. Meanwhile a trio of piano, bass and drums had set up on a tiny stage in the corner of the restaurant and started to play softly. After we had finished our main course, Greg asked if I would like to dance.

“I err haven't had much experience,” I said. The truth was I'd had no experience of dancing and knew that as a woman I would have to move backwards and I was afraid I'd make a fool of myself.

“No problem,” he said “I'll teach you.”

In fact we started to shuffle slowly around a very small dance floor which we shared with two other couples, so there was no danger of me falling over. When a man is dancing and is aroused, he has two options — either to keep the woman at arms length where she can't feel him, or hold her close where she most certainly can detect what is happening. Greg chose the later option. The effect of course was to arouse me too, but with a woman the most obvious sign is usually hardening of her nipples and this is what happened to me. Since Greg was holding me very close now, I was sure he was quite aware of my response. We continued to shuffle around the dance floor, enjoying each other's responses very much.

After the dance we returned to the table and decided to forgo desert and just have a coffee. By now I knew that if Greg didn't somehow take me to bed that evening I would be very disappointed. As men should, he took the initiative, as well as my hand which I had conveniently left lying on the table within easy reach.

“I'm staying here overnight as I have an early start in the morning. Perhaps you'd like to see the lights from the tenth floor? They really are quite amazing.” Of course I would, so after Greg had signed a chit that the waiter brought, we walked hand in hand to the lift which quickly took us to the eighth floor. I was hoping, indeed expecting him to kiss me in the lift, but another couple got in and went with us to the seventh floor.

When we reached Greg's room, he swiped the card in the door and opened it, allowing me to walk in. The room was dimly lit by a single lamp, and was dominated by a queen-size bed. I walked over to the window to view the panorama of lights which was truly amazing, and a moment later I felt Greg's arms around my body and his lips nuzzling my neck. His hands gently massaged my breasts and touched my nipples which were once again hard. I slowly turned and he held me against his body and we started to kiss. I could truly say that my body melted against his hard masculine body — well that's what it felt like. I could feel his arousal and I move my thighs against it. Then we slowly started to undress each other.

I have always worn pretty lingerie. Perhaps it's a left-over from my pre-transition days, but wearing something soft and silky against my skin, even when no-one can see it makes me feel feminine and sexy. I saw in Greg's eyes his appreciation as he helped me off with my skirt and blouse. I've also always preferred to wear stockings rather than pantyhose, and this I knew from my days at the massage parlour was certainly appreciated by men.

When we were both totally naked I looked at Greg. He resembled a Greek statue with his magnificent body, except I've never seen a Greek statue with that degree of arousal! I watched his eyes as they caressed my body, and knew he loved what he saw. He took my hand and led me to the bed. I had not been with a man since my trip to Thailand, since I was determined that when it happened it would be a man of my own choosing, and there was no doubt that Greg was the man I was happy to choose. When he entered me and I arched my body to receive him fully, I knew that all the work, pain and cost of transitioning had been worthwhile. I have experienced orgasms before, but nothing like this one. It left me shaking with a pleasure so intense it was almost painful. Greg's orgasm seemed to match my own judging by his shuddering climax and his loud moans. We lay together for a while, both gasping for breath, our hearts pounding. Now I truly knew what it felt like to be a woman, and I smiled.

Greg said “How good was it for you?”

“Good comes nowhere near describing it,” I replied. “It was my first time, and I never guessed how good it would be. That's thanks to you of course” and I turned to him and kissed him. He looked very pleased, and even more so when shortly afterwards I set to work arousing him again. Once was certainly not enough for me!

This time Greg lay on his back and I straddled him, lowing myself onto him and watching the look of pleasure on his face as I did so. We took things more slowly this time, both enjoying the delights of our love-making, and leading once more to a shattering climax.

Some time later, I reluctantly said that I had better be getting home and let Greg get some sleep. He didn't argue with me, although I half hoped he would. I went into the bathroom and had a shower. When I came out, I assembled my clothes which were scattered about the room. It's strange but suddenly I felt rather embarrassed about dressing in front of Greg. He seemed to sense this because he went into the bathroom and took some time, so I was fully dressed by the time he emerged, a towel wrapped around his torso.

“I'll ring for a taxi.” I said, and was told it would be there in about ten minutes.

I walked up to Greg and kissed him. “Thank you for a wonderful evening. It meant so much to me,” I said.

“It's I who should thank you,” he replied “I haven't felt like that in a long time.”

I left the room and took the lift down to the foyer. I didn't really feel embarrassed leaving the hotel at that hour. I'm sure hotel staff see women do that quite frequently. There was a difference of course — I hadn't been paid for what I'd been doing, indeed I paid for the taxi myself. I was glad Greg hadn't offered me any money for the taxi fare — I would have been quite embarrassed if he had.

I don't know what you must think of this confession. After all Greg was married, and I suppose you could say his was the greater fault, but I had certainly encouraged him and it was not to repay him for saving my job. The plain truth was that I had lusted after his body from the moment I first saw him, and now that I had tasted its delights I knew that I would not be satisfied until I was with him again.

I was back at work the next morning, but I didn't see Greg for several days, and when I did we were back to 'Mr Thompson' and 'Miss Collins' of course. While I certainly hoped that we might have time together again, I wanted to keep it a secret from the rest of the staff if possible. I certainly wasn't going to be the one to ask Greg if we could meet again. I didn't even know if our night together was a 'one off', or even if he had seen it as a repayment for saving my job.