Two years passed, years which were for me mostly ones of contentment. Greg came to the apartment on average once a week, and occasionally we had a weekend away together, so my physical needs were well met. You may wonder if I loved Greg? I was very fond of him of course; if I had not been and still slept with him then I would have been nothing but a whore, paid in kind instead of cash, and those days were well and truly behind me. As for love, there was only one man I had ever loved, could ever love. In the stillness of the night when I was alone, I sometimes whispered his name, and woke to find my pillow damp with tears.

One evening when Greg visited me in the apartment, after our session of sensuous lovemaking which we never tired of no matter how many times we were together, we were lying quietly on the bed and he was tracing the contours of my body with his fingers.

“How would you like to come to London with me?” he said. “I have to attend a conference and I'll be there just over a week.”

I was so surprised I nearly did the thing I'd always avoided — mentioning his wife.

“But won't....?” I started and then stopped, furious with myself.

Greg grinned at me “You were going to say 'But won't my wife want to go?' isn't that right?”

I blushed and didn't reply.

“The fact is she hates flying. She'll only do it if it's a matter of life or death. I have to give one of the talks and may need to amend it in light of what others say, so I could do with a secretary there. You could see it as a 'working holiday' if you like,” he said.

“In that case the answer is 'yes, I'd love to go',” I said.

It was decided that I would apply for annual leave and actually start it a week before we were due to leave for London. When someone asked, I told them I was going to to Singapore for a couple weeks.

Two months later we arrived at Brisbane Airport ready to board our flight to London. I hadn't really thought about it, but of course Greg travelled Business Class, and this was going to be a whole new level of luxury that I wasn't used to enjoying when flying. When Greg told me, I was thrilled at the prospect, so instead of the usual loose comfortable clothes which are almost a necessity in Economy, I wore a smart business suit with a pencil skirt, stockings and moderate heels and felt like a million dollars, all ready to enjoy the luxury of all that extra room.

However there was even better to come. As Greg handled our luggage and tickets at the Business check-in counter, I noticed he was in earnest conversation with the clerk there, and afterwards he turned to me with a huge grin on his face.

“Guess what? They've upgraded us to First Class!”

This was beyond my wildest dreams and frankly the experience has ruined Economy for me ever since, as I can still imagine what the people up the front of the plane are enjoying.

We were ushered into the First Class lounge and invited to have a drink and a few 'nibbles' while we waited to board the plane via our special boarding lane.

Once on board we were ushered to the First Class cabin and took our seats. These were more like arm chairs than airline seats and later we were to receive a demonstration of how to convert them into beds. There were several stewards and stewardesses ready to attend to our slightest request. Of course like all the other passengers we had the mandatory pre-flight demonstration of putting on life-jackets and the location of exits. Then we settled back as the airliner pulled back and slowly taxied to the runway. In no time we were in the air and heading north-west.

I have to say the meals were superb, and we were also offered snacks in between meals, not that we needed them. I did have a little wine with my meal, but most of the time I drank water to avoid dehydration. Thanks to being able to sleep comfortably, the whole journey passed very quickly, and I was almost sorry when the aircraft began its final descent, and Greg pointed out to me the famous 'white cliffs of Dover'. A short time after that and I could see the winding river Thames as we descended towards Heathrow Airport, and the rumble of the wheels on the tarmac signalled the end of our outward journey.

We were first off the plane and apparently our luggage was prioritised too, for it did not take long to appear. We were soon through Customs and then had to make our way to central London. The conference was to be held at Claridges Hotel, and Greg had booked a room for us there. I had already checked it out and knew it was 'Five Star', one of London's top hotels.

Greg hailed a taxi and as the driver was loading up our suitcases, he asked him to take us to Claridges. The driver muttered something that sounded like 'Gor blimey' under his breath. I gathered this meant he was impressed.

Once in the 'cab' as they are called there, he became quite chatty, telling us his name was Charlie and that he was a genuine Cockney. I had heard the term but asked him exactly what it was.

“Lor luv ya,” he replied, I suspect exaggerating his accent “It means I was born wivvin the sound of Bow Bells.” A further explanation was this was the church of St Mary-le-Bow in the East End of London. He was obviously not one to let an opportunity slip since he asked us if we'd like a tour of the sights of London.

“Not today thank you,” said Greg to my relief. “We've just flown for nearly thirty hours and we're a bit tired. Maybe tomorrow?” So it was arranged that he'd pick us up at ten o'clock the following morning and take us for a tour of the famous sights of London.

When we arrived at Claridges, a doorman wearing an ornate outfit and top hat opened the taxi door for me and I got out in the approved manner, not showing too much leg. Greg meanwhile settled the account with the taxi driver and confirmed our appointment the next day.

To enter Claridges is to enter another world. You step into the entrance hall with its gleaming black and white check floor tiles and feel that you are almost in a palace. I thought Brisbane's top hotel was luxurious, but it was nothing compared to this. Greg checked us in, and a porter carried our bags. Our room was magnificent and I didn't dare think what it cost. It was Art Deco in its furnishings, a period I just love, so I was in seventh heaven. I noticed that Greg slipped the porter some money, and I was to learn that gratuities are an expected part of life in England and apparently provided a 'top-up' for the rather low wages paid to those who provide services, such as waiters, taxi-drivers etc..

It was mid-afternoon, although my body clock was saying it was the middle of the night. Experienced travellers had told me the best way to overcome jetlag was not to give in, but to stay up until evening. We just about made it, and when we finally went to bed we were too exhausted to do anything other than sleep.

The next morning, after breakfast, we showered and dressed ready for our day of tourist-style sightseeing with Charlie the taxi driver. We waited in the foyer, and true to his word he was there at five to ten.

“Now what would you like to see especially?” he asked, mainly directing the question at me.

“Buckingham Palace, Trafalgar Square, St Pauls, the Tower, all those places,” I replied enthusiastically, but then had second thoughts and turning to Greg said “Oh I hope you will not be bored, you must have seen them all many times.”

“Not at all,” he replied gallantly. “I shall enjoy seeing them afresh through your eyes.”

London 'cabbies' as they are called, know the city like the back of their hands. Charlie explained how they have to acquire what's called 'The Knowledge', by cycling with a map around the city until they know every hospital, railway station, hotel, and virtually every street. This way they know the shortest route to every destination, and it's only after passing a test that they can be licenced cab drivers. This normally takes about two years, and Charlie had been driving for twenty years so his knowledge of London was encyclopaedic.

He started by taking us down Regent Street and around Trafalgar Square to see Nelson's Column; then down the Mall to Buckingham Palace; round Birdcage Walk and down to Westminster to see the Abbey and Houses of Parliament, where I learned that Big Ben is the hour bell, not the whole clock which sits in St Stephens tower. Then it was down Whitehall and past Downing Street where the Prime Minister's residence is at No 10, and later St Pauls and the Tower. Oh I could go on and on, but I would bore you, you need to see them all for yourself. Greg sat back and looked at me with gentle amusement as I stared open-mouthed at all these historic places I'd seen in pictures so many times, and could hardly believe that I was actually seeing them for myself. Charlie kindly took many pictures of us standing in front of these famous places, even though I knew I could never show them to anyone.

We did stop at one point and treated Charlie to lunch, and then went on for another couple of hours. He in turn gave me a map of Central London, and seemed almost surprised that I could read it so easily.

“Blimey,” he exclaimed “You're one in a million. Most women just can't read maps to save themselves, but you're doing a treat.”

I looked at Greg and he looked at me, and I suppressed an urge to burst out laughing.

“There's also a saying that while women can't read maps, men won't ask directions,” I replied and Charlie guffawed.

“Well, you've got me there,” he replied “If I'm out of London I just hate asking directions.”

We arrived back at Claridges mid-afternoon. I was very tired and just had to have a sleep, and I dreamed of London.

The conference started the next morning, so while Greg was busy, armed with my new-found knowledge of London and my map, I set about exploring for myself. I must say that Claridges could not be better placed, being only a short walk to Bond Street and all its fabulous shops. I was charged with finding a suitable dress to wear to the conference dinner on the closing day, so I spent many happy hours checking out what was on offer. It was on my second visit that I came across a dreamy gown in palest blue satin and knew at once that this was 'the dress'. It was expensive, but Greg had been generous with his budget. Next I had to find suitable shoes to go with it, so some more intense shopping was required. Finally I was satisfied with my purchases and then knew I could spend the rest of the week seeing the particular sights I wanted to view the most.

It was on the third day, after a morning's walk to Grosvenor Square and Hyde Park that I felt tiredness overwhelming me and knew I had to return to the hotel for a siesta. As I crossed the entrance hall, a young woman crossed diagonally ahead of me. She was wearing a black knee-length pencil skirt, white blouse and about four inch heels. Suddenly she dropped a big pile of legal briefs she was carrying, and I hurried up to her and assisted her to pick them up. She looked up at me and smiled and I suddenly realised I had seen her before, two days ago in the foyer when she had smiled at me. I'd returned to smile in that 'Do I know you?' sort of way when you are not sure if you do. Now here she was again.

“My name is Rose,” she said as she assembled the scattered briefs.

“I'm Mandy,” I replied, and followed it with “I'm sorry, but do I know you?”

“Only from two days ago,” she said and I didn't know what to reply to that, so I changed the subject.

“The trouble with barristers is that they never consider how much paperwork their clerks have to carry.”

“Oh I agree with you there. You see I am a barrister and these are some briefs I have to check through as well as attend the conference. Fortunately I'm not particularly interested in this afternoon's session, so I can catch up on them.”

I could feel my cheeks glowing.

“I'm sorry. I only open my mouth to change feet,” I managed eventually.

Rose laughed. “It's alright, really. Women barristers are few and far between. I'm the only one in our chambers, and the junior one at that, so guess who gets all the crap cases no-one else wants?”

“Can I help you carry them to, well, wherever you're carrying them?” I felt I was making a fool of myself but somehow I couldn't stop.

“That's kind of you. I'm actually taking them up to my room,” she replied. We took half each and I followed her into the lift.

Rose's room was similar to mine and Greg's. She saw the look on my face and said

“Don't think I'm used to staying in this sort of luxury. It's back to Premier Inns in future.”

In response to my blank look she explained “They're a big budget hotel chain.”

She took the pile of briefs from me and set them down on the table next to the others.

“How about a drink to celebrate getting them here without any more accidents?”

“Yes please,” I said. There was something going on here and I didn't know what it was, but somehow I couldn't leave. Rose poured two small glasses of Scotch, which I never usually drink, but it seemed impolite to refuse it, so I downed the glass as she did, and immediately started to cough and splutter as the fiery liquid hit my throat.

Rose laughed and handed me a small handkerchief. She was standing very close to me and I could feel my heart racing. Then she leaned forward and kissed me on the lips. I was shocked, but in a nice way. I understood now why I had sensed something would happen but didn't know what.

Rose looked at me. “You've never kissed a woman before have you?” I shook my head, speechless.”Shall I do it again?” I nodded slowly, and with that she stepped forward and kissed me again, a long slow lingering kiss, with our tongues entwining, her arms around me and gently stroking me as our bodies pressed together.

Then Rose took my hand and led me towards the bed. I could have backed away at any time, but I didn't want to. Instead I let her slowly undress me as I undressed her, and then we lay naked on the bed and I learned all about sex with another woman.

I only had one uncomfortable moment. As Rose made her way down my body, her fingers, lips and tongue causing my every nerve-ending to tingle, I realised where she was heading and suddenly tensed up. Would she detect signs of my surgery and reject me? However she mistook the reason for my reaction and murmured in a muffled voice “Don't worry darling. I know it's your first time and I'll be very gentle.” After that I relaxed and gave myself over to the total enjoyment of the moment.

I know what you must be thinking. Greg had brought me to London and now I was effectively being unfaithful to him, but somehow it didn't seem like that, perhaps because it wasn't with a man. It was my first and only experience of sex with a woman, but looking back I wouldn't have missed it for worlds. At the time I knew that this would only happen once with Rose, but that was alright. Since she obviously did not detect anything to suggest that I wasn't a genetic woman, I certainly wasn't going to tell her.

Mid-afternoon, after dozing for a while I said “I had better get back to my own room.”

“And that handsome man I saw you with?” said Rose with a quizzical look.

“That's right,” I replied. “Rose, thank you so much. I wouldn't have missed it for anything.”

Rose smiled as her finger-tips stroked my breasts.”You wouldn't be the first hetero woman to enjoy the delights of the sapphic life.”

I dressed, kissed Rose goodbye and went back to my room, where this time I really did sleep for a while. When Greg returned he seemed surprised to see me in bed.

“Tired?” he said.

“Not any more,” I replied, for my body was still tingling from my encounter with Rose and all I needed now was to take Greg's body into mine. He didn't need any further invitation to strip off and join me. I held out my arms to my naked Adonis and in no time our bodies were locked together and I was experiencing more ecstasy than I could have imagined in one day. After we finished and finally broke apart panting, Greg gasped “Well travel certainly agrees with you!” and we both burst out laughing.

I enjoyed the rest of my time in London. I saw Rose a couple of times and we exchanged smiles but nothing more. The final event of the conference was the dinner, held in the ballroom. This was of course the opportunity for the women to shine. The men looked very fine in their dinner suits, but basically it is one style for everyone, whereas the women can really stand out. I spent most of the afternoon getting ready — well these things take time! - and the look on Greg's face and his low whistle of approval meant it was all worthwhile.

When we arrived at the ballroom, like every other woman I cast an eye over the gathering to see how I compared, and I felt that I stacked up well to all the others. I was wearing a wedding ring I'd purchased in Brisbane, and the intention was that if anyone inquired, then I was Greg's wife, but I wouldn't be volunteering the information, and if anyone assumed that was my relationship to him, well I wouldn't be saying otherwise.

The meal was excellent as befitted an hotel of Claridge's five-star quality, and a small band provided music during the dinner and for dancing between courses. Feeling more confident now, I was only too happy to shuffle around the dance floor with Greg.

There were speeches — mercifully short, as one might expect a gathering of professional talkers like lawyers might be tempted to go on a bit. Perhaps the fact they were professional meant they understood that a short speech always goes over better than a long one.

The evening passed without incident. There were several other couples sitting at our table, all from England, and they were interested in the legal scene in Australia. Greg answered their questions, while their wives assumed I was a legal wife too and we bemoaned the amount of time our men had to spend away working. One asked me if we had children, and I replied we had two boys, just in case she asked Greg the same question.

When we finally retired for the evening, Greg helped me take off my dress very carefully so not to spoil it, but once it was safely hung up, then we could unleash the passion that had been building through the evening, leading to a thrusting exhilarating climax that left us both gasping for breath.

We had one final day of sightseeing together before we finally took our leave of London and Charlie took us to Heathrow where we boarded the plane for the return journey. It was Business Class this time, with no upgrade, but still very comfortable and I had no complaints. I had three days to get over jetlag and then it was back to work.