November 1984

Robert wanted Charlotte to stay the night but they both knew it was fanciful and a downright dangerous idea. Robert Fellows may be the housemaster of Bridge House but he was still a student at Chelmsford College and would be subject to expulsion if they were caught.

"Do that thing to me again and then I'll leave, but I'll come back tomorrow night and every night after if you want me to," Charlotte kissed him and stroked his burgeoning erection.

"What thing?" Robert teased.

"The thing that made me cry," Charlotte said wistfully.

The look of shame and disappointment on Robert's face was worth the hyperbole.

"I'm sorry Charlotte I never meant to hurt you. I err... I like you so much; I desire you and I couldn't help myself. I wanted you... I mean I want you... I mean I think about you all the time... Christ I don't know what I mean," Robert stammered.

Charlotte put a finger to his lips to shush him.

"Can I tell you something?" she murmured.

Robert nodded.

"So long ago now that I can hardly remember, when I had my first sexual awakening, I used to fantasise that a handsome young man would seduce me. I would play coy and rebuff his advances. He would become insistent and force himself on me and I would feign abhorrence as he ravished me but I would eventually submit and let him take me and would secretly enjoy it."

"It's a common young woman's fantasy but I actually got to live mine," Charlotte kissed him softly.

"But I hurt you," Robert stroked her cheek softly.

"Yes you did at first but then it was kind of nice and then it became wonderful. You were my first Robert. You will always be my first and I'm glad it was you," she smiled at him.

"Now... can we stop all this sentimental drivel? I want you in me. All the way," she squeezed his dick very hard and rolled over, offering Robert her derriere.

*****

Robert was very satisfied with this new arrangement. Charlotte could come to him every night if she wanted to and she did most nights. But Wayne Jenkins and Steven Belfour-Brown were not. They had been cut off and they were angry about it. They were also determined to do something about it.

Charles had just changed into his rugby kit and had gone to the toilet before running out on the pitch to train, when the door to the cubicle he was using was suddenly kicked in.

"Sitting down to piss like a girl. Appropriate I think," Wayne Jenkins squeezed into the cubicle followed by Steven Belfour-Brown.

"Don't bother screaming. There's no one in the dressing rooms except for us," Wayne Jenkins hissed.

He produced a copy of the photograph of Charlotte holding the newspaper. It had been so long ago that Charles had almost forgotten about it.

"My father might not be a member of Brooks's but he's well-to-do enough to get an audience with Reginald Ward. I'm sure your dad will recognise his youngest son, even through the wig and the makeup," he pushed the photograph into Charles' face.

"What do you want?" Charles asked.

"We want Charlotte back. We want her in the inner sanctum three times a week doing what she does best," Steven Belfour-Brown snatched the picture and shoved his face into Charles'.

"What about Robert?" Charles retorted.

"What about him? He can have Charlotte when we're not using her. She's House property not his personal plaything," Steven replied.

"I don't think he sees it that way," Charles said indignantly.

"I don't care what he thinks. He might be the housemaster but he can't take everything for himself. You tell that slut that she had better get her arse back to the inner sanctum tomorrow night or Reginald and Penelope Ward are likely to find out that their son is still a sissy!"

"You can keep this; we have plenty of other copies," Wayne Jenkins tossed the photograph at Charles.

"Now pull up your shorts and get out on the track Mister Ward; you're late for training," the two thugs left the lavatory, the studs on their football boots clattering on the concrete floor.

Charles immediate reaction was to tell Robert. But what could Robert do? He could confront Wayne and Steven and do what? He couldn't go to the faculty; what would he tell them? 'I moved a young man into the dorm next mine and almost every night he transforms into a pretty woman who sneaks into my room and pleasures me. Oh I forgot to mention, before she became my girlfriend I threatened to expose her to her parents and made her give my friends blowjobs. Now I want to keep her all to myself.'

The whole situation was too bizarre to be true.

This was a situation that Charlotte would need to tend to on her own. There appeared to be only one option which was for Charlotte to give Wayne and Steven what they wanted.

Charles was sitting at the breakfast table, his food untouched, pondering his quandary when William Larkin plonked himself down across from him.

"If you're not going to eat that don't let it go to waste," he leaned across and speared a sausage off Charles' plate and stuffed it into his mouth.

"How do you stay so slim? You eat like a bear about to hibernate," Charles looked at the 'full English' that William was devouring before him.

"Well I train hard for my soccer team, I run cross-country with you, I fag for an upper houseman who won't lift a finger to help himself and I spend all night studying to make my grades. It's tough being a scholarship student," William replied around a mouthful of bacon and eggs.

"Yes I sometimes forget that most of us are privileged," Charles mused.

"Oh don't worry Charlie, I get by. I have my skills," William chuckled.

"Skills?" Charles' mind was drifting back to his own problems.

"Well no one gives an Oxford rub like I do and I'm pretty good at..." William picked up a sausage off his plate and pushed it in and out of his mouth, sucking on it.

"Jesus William!" Charles blushed.

Then he thought about what William had just said.

"You said you get by, using your skills?" Charles was suddenly very interested.

"You toffs take everything for granted but some of us have to work for a living. There are plenty of upper housemen who like us younger pretty boys. They'd never admit it to each other of course, but a hard dick has no conscience," William smiled.

"There are a couple of blokes over at Crozier House who hand out fivers for handjobs," William reached over and took one of Charles' uneaten fried eggs and stuffed it in his mouth.

Charles hardly noticed; he was lost in thought.

"William? Can you skip the lecture on ethics this afternoon and come to my dorm?" Charles asked.

"Wow! It's like being asked to come to the palace," William teased.

"Oh stop it. Can you?" Charles asked earnestly.

"Sure. Of course I can Charlie, I have no ethics anyway. Now can I have the rest of your baked beans?" William asked and Charles pushed his plate across the table.

That afternoon William climbed the stairs to Charles' dormitory. The corridors were silent with most of students in class. He knocked on the door and waited.

"Is that you William?" William didn't recognise the voice that called to him but he responded anyway.

"Yes of course it is? Who do you think it is; the Queen Mother?" he answered sarcastically.

"Come in and lock the door behind you," the voice called.

"Oh intrigue. I like a bit of intrigue. Nothing like a... well fuck me!" William was gobsmacked.

He had entered Charles' dorm and closed and bolted the door behind him fully expecting that Charles' might have some booze or a joint to puff on, hence all the secrecy. What he did not expect was to see was a rather delightful young woman dressed in a French maid's uniform, black stockings and high heels. She sported a black bob hairstyle and full makeup.

"Jesus Christ you look like that waitress in Allo Allo," was all William could bring himself to say.

Charlotte stood dead still in the centre of the room and William circled her looking her up and down.

"If I was at all interested in women I'd have to say I'd give you a good rogering any time," William touched the frilly hem of her dress.

"I'll take that as a compliment I suppose," Charlotte replied.

"I knew it! I guessed you were into crossdressing. Those little ringlets of nailpolish on your cuticles, the eyeliner and mascara that you failed to wipe away. But my god, you're... you're... you're passable. I mean if I saw you on the high street I'd think you were a woman," William gushed.

"The highest compliment a person can give a tranny," Charlotte stopped posing and walked over to the side table and handed William a beer.

She took one herself and sat down, smoothing her skirt under her legs.

"You even move and sound like a girl. Where did you learn to do that? The French maid thing is a bit cliché though isn't it?" William took a seat opposite her and popped the ring-pull off his beer.

"Robert sometimes likes me dressed this way," Charlotte replied bluntly.

"Does he now? I never would have thought you batted for the other team Charles. Congratulations on taking up with the handsomest guy in the College though. I guess that explains why you moved into these quarters," William took a long pull on his beer and looked around Charlotte's rooms.

"My name is Charlotte, William, if you don't mind," Charlotte replied, pouring her beer into a glass and taking a ladylike sip.

"Well Charlotte. Don't leave me guessing. Tell me how this all came about," William took another sip of his beer and reached for his cigarettes.

Charlotte told William her life story, omitting nothing.

"I wondered why you kept sneaking out back of the common room. But you didn't like what those rugby lads were doing to you down in their inner sanctum but now you like being Robert Fellows' girlfriend?" William tried to make sense of recent events.

"I can't say I didn't like it. I just didn't like that they were forcing me to do it. I'll admit to you, but nobody else, that I quite liked being their plaything... but now Robert and I have this arrangement and that's that," Charlotte explained.

"I have to admit I quite fancy those big rugby types but I never would have guessed they were gay," William helped himself to his third can of Carling.

"That's just it. They don't consider themselves to be gay. As long as I'm dressed as Charlotte they rationalise it all away," she explained.

"Just like the lads who give me a fiver for a blowjob and then go home to their girlfriends during the half-term holiday. They rationalise that it's just a public school trope; like house initiations, getting rips for no reason, midnight feasts, pranks between the houses... nothing like a bit of discreet buggery to keep the public school traditions alive," William said sarcastically.

"Well that sort of gets me to where I was going anyway William. Did you say that you charge the upper housemen five pounds for fellatio?" Charlotte mused.

*****

When Charlotte came out of the privy that evening down in the house council's inner sanctum Wayne Jenkins and Steven Belfour-Brown were waiting eagerly for her. It had been some weeks since they had last defiled her and they were both randy as old goats.

She had brushed off her old sperm-stained pencil skirt and mauve satin blouse. She did not intend to give either of the two men the satisfaction of seeing her dressed in better clothes, even her stockings were laddered.

Not that either of the young men cared, they were both sporting erections that they wanted Charlotte to take care of for them.

"I have some good news and some bad news for you chaps," Charlotte strode confidently into the centre of the room.

Wayne and Steven sat in their usual seats eagerly awaiting her return, a porn movie played on the television set providing titillation prior to the main event.

"Get over here and suck my cock Charlotte!" Wayne Jenkins called out.

"There will be plenty of time for idle chit-chat once I've come in your mouth," he sniggered.

"Not happening I'm afraid; at least not with me. That's the bad news. The good news is there is another sexy transvestite who will satisfy your every sordid desire, the only caveat is that it will cost you both a tenner each," Charlotte pulled back the brocaded curtain and a stunning young woman sauntered into the room.

"This is my friend Wendy," Charlotte introduced a very different looking William Larkin

Charlotte had lent William one of her skirt and blouse sets, some lingerie and stockings and one of her wigs. She had sat in her dorm with Wendy and painstakingly instructed her in the application of makeup until she was reasonably proficient. There is a saying amongst crossdressers and transvestites: 'A pretty boy makes a pretty girl' and this was certainly the case with Wendy, the name she had chosen for herself.

Wendy said that she didn't mind dressing enfemme but could take it or leave it.

"Seems like a lot of work for the same results?" Wendy had said as she looked at herself in the mirror whilst Charlotte fussed with her hair.

"What do you mean?" Charlotte asked.

"Well either way you're going to end up on your knees sucking a dick or bent over taking it up the wrong 'un," Wendy smirked.

"That's not what Robert and I do," Charlotte sniped.

"Oh my god it's not 'loorve' is it?" Wendy teased.

"No! It's nothing like that! We just have respect for each other. Our lovemaking is tender," Charlotte quipped.

"Sounds like 'loorve' to me," Wendy couldn't help badgering her friend.

"Hey you want to make twenty quid, three times a week or do you want to keep sneaking around dormitories offering a handie, an Oxford rub or a BJ for a fiver?" Charlotte retorted.

"I suppose you're right. And I have to admit I do look quite pretty. If I wasn't gay I'd shag myself," Wendy snickered.

And that explained Wendy's existence.

"Jesus Charlotte! Where did you find her? She's fucking gorgeous! Who is she?" the two young men spoke over each other in their eagerness.

"All you need to know is that her name is Wendy and she's my surrogate. She'll sneak down here three times a week, go into the lavatory without you ever seeing her and emerge looking just like this," Charlotte explained.

"And we have to give her a tenner every time she does?" Steven frowned.

"Each. But don't you think she's worth it?" the two young men were circling Wendy, touching her and admiring her.

"I guess we will find out. Are you joining in?" Steven Belfour-Brown asked wistfully.

"I'm afraid not. I'll stay long enough for you to get acquainted and then I have other matters to attend to," Charlotte replied.

"Hello my pretty," Wayne Jenkins, stroked Wendy's hair.

"Hello luv," Wendy replied.

Charlotte poured herself a drink and settled on one of the couches.

She stayed long enough to watch Wayne and Robert paw at Wendy who did not seem to mind the attention at all. Charlotte returned to the privy and transformed back into Charles.

Charles peeked around the curtain before he left.

Wendy was on her knees on the couch sucking on Wayne Jenkins' penis while Steven Belfour-Brown knelt behind, sodomising her. So much for the rules about not kissing or sodomising the transvestite because that would be gay.

Charles went back to his dorm and transformed into Charlotte. Slipping into a negligée she opened the door to Robert's room and found him sitting in an overstuffed armchair moping. He was wearing nothing but his underpants but the room was warm from the fire.

"You're late; I thought you weren't coming," he brooded.

"I had little chore to take care of. Don't sulk, it doesn't suit you," Charlotte sidled over to him and sat in his lap.

His put his arms around her instinctively. She swivelled in his lap so she could kiss him and he returned the kiss. She could feel his growing erection pushing into her buttocks and she liked it. She liked the effect she had on Robert; he was besotted with her and treated her like she was his girlfriend, which she supposed she was, but she wasn't stupid enough to think that it was any more than a contrivance of convenience for them both. She knew that Robert was popular with girls and had plenty of women who gladly gave themselves to him outside of college.

Whatever this was it suited them both for now and she was determined to make the most of the situation. She was in some respects living her fantasy. A handsome, articulate, well-endowed young man was smitten with her and treated her like a lady. That is to say treated her like a lady when he wasn't shagging her senseless as she bucked beneath him coaxing him, whispering obscenities into his ear to spur him on.

Charlotte wriggled her backside appreciatively, pressing her buttocks against Robert's erection, feeling it grow to full tumescence. Normally they would take their time and draw out their love-making but Robert was right; it was getting late.

Charlotte reached behind herself and took Robert's hard cock in her hand. She lifted herself up a little and slipped his cock inside her knickers so that his glans nestled in her sphincter. Charlotte had pre-lubricated in anticipation and she put her heels on the floor and her hands on his knees to steady herself and then slowly lowered herself so that Robert's shaft slid all the way inside her. She was sitting in his lap with her back to him, impaled on his hard throbbing cock.

Robert held her waist and Charlotte rode up and down on his long slender cock, burying it deep inside her and then drawing it nearly all the way out.

Robert tried to encourage her to go faster and rose up out of the chair to meet her but she deliberately kept the pace of their fucking slow and rhythmic. His penis was pressing on her prostate and when Robert's hand slipped under her negligée he found her knickers distended with her erection and soaked with pre-ejaculate. He stroked her and Charlotte purred.

The fullness of his cock buried in her anus and the delectable feel of Robert's fingers rubbing the silky fabric of her knickers against her cock triggered the reaction that Robert so desired. Charlotte began to ride him faster, bucking and writhing in his lap as she worked her buttocks, driving him deep inside her.

Robert put a hand on her shoulder pushed Charlotte down into his lap and pushed himself up out of the chair as he thrust his engorged manhood into her as far as it would go and ejaculated inside her. He squeezed her cock and was rewarded when a sticky puddle of semen flooded through her knickers. They moaned and writhed and extracted every scintilla of pleasure from each other.

Charlotte spun around to face him, still impaled on Robert's cock. She drew herself up so that her knees rested on the seat either side of Robert and she kissed him as she continued to ride his swollen member. As was often the case, Robert didn't lose his erection; it diminished slightly but never became flaccid.

Charlotte kissed him passionately driving her tongue into his mouth and ground her soft buttocks into his groin until she felt him become engorged once again and then she fucked him a second time, Robert held her by the waist and guided her up and down on his throbbing member until she felt he was close to release again.

Charlotte leaned back and threw back her head and moaned as he came inside her. She ripped the hem of her negligée out of the way so she could get to her cock and stroke it, spattering Robert's tight belly with her seed.

They were both exhausted and Charlotte climbed off him and fetched towels so they could clean up and then she snuggled back into his lap content to just kiss and caress.

"So what was this little chore you had to take care of?" Robert asked as he lit a cigarette for them both to share.

She told him.

*****

"So how did it go?" Charles asked William the next day.

They were sitting under a tree on the common where they had privacy.

"Well the dressing like a girl thing isn't really my cup of tea but I'll get the hang of it. But on the plus side, I got to have sex with two of the biggest rugby hunks that I've ever fantasied about... and they paid me for it," William grinned.

"You know they won't go anywhere near you unless you represent yourself as Wendy don't you?" Charles frowned.

"Oh yes they made that quite clear. They don't know who I am and they don't want to. They just want Wendy to miraculously appear from behind that curtain so they can ravish her; three times a week!" William grinned.

"I can put up with the makeup, the wig and the knickers for that kind of money and for that kind of sex," William appeared to be very pleased with himself.

"You do make a pretty girl though. Keep up those makeup skills and enjoy yourself," Charles stood and brushed leaves off his clothes.

"I've got Commercial and Industrial Law for the next two hours so I'd better get going," Charles picked up his backpack.

"I've got Creative Writing," William started to rise.

"Want to meet in the common room after dinner?" William picked up his own backpack.

"I can't... you know..." Charles smiled coyly.

"Maid duties?" William replied.

Charles nodded.

"You're no fun since you devoted yourself to Robert Fellows," William said as he threw his backpack over his shoulder.

"I'm not devoted to him!" Charles snapped.

"The lady doth protest too much, methinks," William grinned.

"See you later Charlotte," he began to walk away.

"Yes I think so... Wendy," Charles said sulkily.

William did not respond; he was already thinking about his forthcoming lesson.

*****

March 1985

The arrangements that Charlotte had put into place became a matter of routine after a while. Wendy looked after Wayne Jenkins and Steven Belfour-Brown three times a week which kept them happy and kept Wendy in a sound financial position. Rugby season was over and although Chelmsford College had made the finals they were ousted in the first semi-final. Charles tried out for cricket but didn't make the first eleven so he had no weekend sport or after school training.

This freed Charlotte to spend more time with Robert and as much as she thought that Robert would get bored with her the opposite was true. The more time he spent with Charlotte the more he craved her company.

Charlotte and Robert had a serious conversation about their relationship and agreed that they needed to be careful. William Larkin, Wayne Jenkins, Steven Belfour-Brown and Brian Nichol knew their secret but were hardly likely to blab; but discretion was still essential.

Robert and Charles made a concerted effort to get out and about on the college campus with their peers and they made sure they enjoyed the time they spent alone together, which was still considerable, and of course they had their academic responsibilities to attend to.

End of term was fast approaching and Robert and Charlotte were looking forward to it and dreading it both. It was going to be wonderful to escape the confines of the boarding school and Charlotte would return as a middle houseman with all the restrictions that applied to lower housemen lifted. No fagging, no Army Cadets (Charles had decided it wasn't for him) and more personal freedoms.

The university had been petitioned to move out of the dark ages and become more progressive and so next term there would be a more relaxed dress code, fagging would cease, and rips would be no longer be issued. Charles had already started to grow out his hair.

But it would mean that Charlotte and Robert would not see each other for nearly two months. Charlotte was a pragmatist and knew that Robert would have no problem finding a girlfriend during the break, as a young virile man he had needs that had to be satisfied and in any event she knew what they had was temporary so jealousy was not a factor.

"I have an idea if you are up for it," Robert announced as they cuddled on his bed on the last day of term.

"Oh yeah, what's that," Charlotte looked at Richard expectantly.

"I'm going to Brighton for a week during the break. Why don't you come too?" Robert sat up, excited by his cunning scheme.

"It's far away from Chelmsford and I could take you out; I know you've always wanted to take Charlotte out and about. You're so passable that no one will know that you're not a genetic a woman. It would be a hoot and I'd love to have you on my arm out in public."

"I can take you shopping; we can go to bars and restaurants. Brighton is a fun town," Robert said enthusiastically.

"I don't know Robert. It sounds dangerous. What if I'm clocked?" Charlotte frowned.

"So what? Like I said we will be miles from either of our homes and Brighton has a reputation for being liberal, there are some places where your type are very welcome," Robert replied.

"My type?" Charlotte said angrily.

Charlotte sat up and folded her arms.

"You know what I mean," Robert put an arm around her and pulled her to him.

"Well I have always wondered if I could pull off being a woman in public and I've dreamed of going somewhere where I can be social. Plus it will give us the opportunity to meet somewhere outside of this musty old prison," Charlotte was warming to the idea.

"Speaking of pulling things off," Robert guided her hand to his groin.

"Be serious for a while Robert. Let's plan the logistics of this thing," Charlotte seemed committed to the idea.

"Trust the bachelor of commerce student to want to work out logistics," Robert teased.

"Trust the commercial law graduate to only think about his own gratification," Charlotte teased him back.

"But once we've decided how we are going to pull this off, I promise I will pull you off... and maybe do some other things that I know you will like," she patted his growing erection.

*****

Arranging their weekend away required the couple to communicate as Charles and Robert, which is something they seldom did. Neither of them really wanted to acknowledge Charles; he was a fifth wheel but a necessary one. As their communication was by phone it was easy enough for Charles to allow Charlotte to appropriate his psyche and for Robert to imaging he was talking to Charlotte.

The other issue Charles had was that because he had returned from boarding school having appeared to his family to be finally settled down and doing well in both his academia and sports and had obviously, so his parents thought, given up his preponderance to dress enfemme, they were actually taking an interest in him for the first time.

"Bob Delaney at the club tells me that you're quite the winger. One of the top scorers and playmakers," George Fellows commented at dinner on Charlie's first evening back at home.

"I was a front-rower of course. But you don't have my build; you take after your mother that way," George crammed a piece of fillet mignon into his mouth.

"To be fair George, you rarely made the first fifteen and was often sent off for fighting from what I heard," Penelope Fellows came to her son's defence.

"And if you keep eating and drinking like you do you'll be the size of two front-rowers darling," Penelope chided her husband about his ever expanding waistline.

"I'm so glad you're doing well at university Charles; I'm very proud of how far you've come and where you're going," his mother patted his hand.

"Yes, and speaking of which, I hope you are getting along with the other lads. Friends you make in your college days are friends for life and often help you out down the track. You know... the old boy's network, back-scratching and all that whatnot," George tapped the side of nose meaningfully.

"Well as a matter of fact I was fagging for Robert Fellows. You know his father from Brooks's," Charles took the opportunity to segue the conversation to his advantage.

"Oh yes; fine fellow. Lawyer for some of the top London banks," George slurped Bordeaux.

"And his wife Silvia and I are on some of the same charity committees," Penelope chimed in.

This tidbit of information troubled Charles initially; he had no idea that his parents were so well acquainted with Robert's but in this case it served his cause.

"Well Robert and few of the other chaps are going to Brighton for a week to celebrate the end of term and I've been invited," Charles sipped his own glass of Bordeaux expectantly.

"Seems a bit odd the upper housemen inviting a lower houseman to something like that," George frowned.

"Middle houseman now dad," Charles chimed in.

"And we all played rugby together. Made the semis too," Charles added.

"Well of course. Bit of rugger on the field... blood on the ball and broken noses in the scrum and all that and then after the game it's pints of ale in the pub and pretty college girls with torn tights and knickers down," George Fellows reflected on his college days.

"George! Really! At the dinner table!" Penelope scolded her husband but she didn't blush.

Charles couldn't help wondering if in his mother's college days she had been one of those girls with her tights torn and her knickers pulled down; his mother and father had met in their college years so it was highly likely. He tried to clear the image from his mind.

"Come on Penelope. The boy's nineteen now and sowing his wild oats with the upper housemen will stand him in good stead. The battle of Waterloo might have been won on the playing fields of Eton, but England's commercial engine was forged on the fields of Chelmsford," George boasted.

"More likely the pubs and brothels nearby," Penelope huffed.

"You've done well and we're over all that frilly-knicker nonsense so go and make a man out of yourself at Brighton. I'll slip you a few quid before you leave so you can enjoy yourself properly," George forked another slab filet mignon into his face.

"Just don't go knocking up any of those strumpets down there. They'll see a well-to-do young man like yourself as a ticket out of the tenements," Penelope warned.

"Stick to the four 'Fs' old boy... find 'em, feel 'em, fuck 'em and forget 'em," George laughed so hard that he nearly choked on the lump of steak in his maw.

"That's it George! Enough of that language at the table," this time Penelope did blush.

"Just keep it in the bedroom where it belongs; right dear," George smirked at his wife.

"George... really!" but Charles thought he saw a glint in his mother's eye as she chided her husband.

That was enough for him. He did not want that picture in his mind and he excused himself and went up to his room where he had a private line and called Robert Fellows' residence. When Robert answered he used Charlotte's voice and told him the meeting was definitely on and they finalised their plans and made sure their cover stories matched.

Charles was certainly in the good books with his father. He gave Charles a wad of cash and the keys to his 'weekend car'; his beloved Ford Capri. Charles was excited and as soon as he left the family's estate Charlotte appropriated his psyche. She was excited to be out and about and feeling confident. She had been living as Charlotte part-time almost every day for months. Everyone so far who had seen Charlotte had told her that she was passable and now was the time to put it to the test.

Where the M25 met the M23 there were roadhouses, service stations and cheap motels. Charles paid for a cheap room at the Travellers Inn, a fleapit mainly used by lorry drivers. She parked next to her room, a cinderblock hovel with ripped, faded curtains, stained carpets and musty bedding. Charlotte didn't care. She would only be using the bathroom and wouldn't be more than an hour or so. She laid out her travelling clothes on the bed, stripped, cleaned herself with her douche, and took a shower, deliberately avoiding looking at the mould in the corners.

Her hair was getting longer but was not long enough to be styled so she had brought along a couple of wigs. She painstakingly applied her makeup, she wanted to look good for Robert, positioned the black bob wig and brushed it out and dressed. She had been shopping since she had been home and she wore a sunny yellow silk Ungaro wrap dress that had been made famous by Jean Shrimpton, nearly-nude sheer-to-the-waist pantyhose and over them white nylon bikini panties. The matching bra with a little padding gave her a modest décolletage and white Tatiana high-heeled court shoes complimented the ensemble. She wore a string of faux pearls around her slender neck and a matching bracelet and earrings.

The dress and the shoes were expensive but Charlotte had plenty of money and she wanted to look bright and summery but also sexy for Robert when he first saw her outside of the claustrophobic and foreboding confines of Chelmsford College. She packed everything away carefully, sprayed herself with perfume, took a deep breath and stepped confidently outside.

She almost collided with the big-bellied lorry driver who was lugging a battered carry-all to his room which obviously adjoined hers.

"Nearly got me luv," the burly man chuckled unashamedly appraising her.

"Although I have to say I wouldn't have minded a saucy little thing like you rubbing up against me," he winked at her salaciously.

"You're not working the rooms are you? A bit early for the brasses to be out but you never knows your luck," the man's grin was positively lecherous.

Charlotte stood there speechless; her white handbag slung over shoulder and her wheeled suitcase at her side. It took her a while to understand what the man was implying.

"Are you insinuating I'm a prostitute?" Charlotte blushed.

The irony was not lost on her. She had been a concubine during her first weeks at college.

The man appraised her again and looked at the shiny red Ford Capri parked outside her door.

"I'm sorry Miss, you're obviously too beautiful and classy to be a brass but we don't normally find your type staying in a dump like this," the man actually doffed his cap.

"Exactly. And I'm not staying but the roadhouse toilets are atrocious so I paid for a half day for the room to freshen up and change my laddered tights," she immediately regretted giving such a long and involved explanation that wasn't really warranted.

Charlotte turned her back on the man and loaded her car very aware that the man hadn't moved and was staring at her, especially when she bent over to push the suitcase into the Capri's hatch and again when she slipped in behind the wheel, she was nervous and ungainly, 'all legs and arse' the uncouth were liable to say.

She started the car and was looking in the mirror ready to reverse when the man came over and tapped on the window and Charlotte rolled it down.

"I'll give you a fiver for your laddered tights," the man's smirk was downright indecent, his tobacco-stained teeth revolting, his filthy crotch bulging.

Charlotte gunned the engine throwing out a spray of gravel and dust which caused the man to stagger back and cover his eyes, much to Charlotte's delight.

As she entered the on ramp to the M25 she realised that she was shaking. She ruminated on the incident for a while as she drove towards Brighton and an arrière-pensée occurred to her. What had happened was not really a bad thing. After the initial shock she had handled herself reasonably well but more importantly the man had no idea that she wasn't a real woman. And she had to admit that besides the man being totally prurient, she was a little flattered that he found her so alluring.

Five pounds for a pair of ripped pantyhose was a considerable sum.

Charlotte arrived at Brighton and some of her confidence waned. The traffic was heavy and the streets were crowded but then she rationalised that it was easier to get lost in crowd; there was in fact safety in numbers.

Robert Fellows had paid for a single room and two parking spaces at a small boutique hotel. This was going to be Charlotte's first real test and she knew that confidence was the key. It was the eighties after all and it was quite common for men and women to share a room outside of wedlock, the hotelier couldn't care less so long as you paid up front, didn't create a ruckus and were discreet.

"Charlotte Ward checking in," Charlotte had stridden confidently up to reception, that was until her heel caught in the threadbare carpet and she careened into the counter.

Now she was flustered.

"Sorry about that pet. I've been telling Harold to fix that carpet for months now," the middle-aged but stylishly dressed and attractive receptionist smiled at her sympathetically.

"Harold! Put down that chip butty and get your arse out here and fix the bloody carpet! We nearly knackered one of our guests," the woman screamed over her shoulder at a tall sophisticated looking gentleman wearing a threadbare suit.

"Yes Gladys. I'll get right on it," the man called back around a mouth filled with bread and spuds.

"That means it won't get done for another month," Gladys smiled warmly at Charlotte.

"Gladys Chatterton, owner, operator, receptionist, barmaid, chief cook and bottle-washer of The Ambassador," she extended her hand and Charlotte took it.

"Let me look here. Oh you're staying with Mister Fellows. You're a lucky girl, he's quite a hunk and very handsome. Are you engaged?" Gladys had a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

"It's complicated," Charlotte couldn't help but smile back.

"Well don't let it get too complicated. He'd be quite the catch, going to be a financier and all," Gladys winked at her.

"We chatted for a while when he was checking in. A very pleasant and considerate young man, taking the time to talk like an old biddy like me," Gladys' self-mockery was not lost on Charlotte; she was far from being an old biddy.

Charlotte couldn't help but giggle. Mrs Chatterton was a hoot, the epitome of the nosy hotelier. Now she knew who Gladys reminded her of, Sybil Fawlty, she had the same dress sense, style and prying demeanour.

Gladys had Charlotte fill in the registration card while she rummaged in the keyboard for a key, all the time chattering away about the delights of Brighton, the history of the hotel and the laziness of her husband.

Harold Chatterton came out of the cubbyhole of an office and joined his wife.

"You know I can hear everything you say in there," Harold said to Gladys.

"Don't worry about Gladys, she's just inquisitive; some would say nosy," Harold came over and stood next to his wife.

"Aren't you the pretty little thing," Harold smiled at Charlotte but he was inoffensive and genuinely friendly.

"You keep your eyes and your mind on the job Harold Chatterton," Gladys chastised him.

"Says the woman who fawned all over your boyfriend," Harold chortled.

"Doesn't matter where you get your appetite so long as you eat at home lovey," Gladys patted his cheeks affectionately.

"I don't mind eating at home, so long as I get seconds," Harold smacked Gladys playfully on the buttocks.

"Harold Chatterton! Not in front of the guests!" Gladys chided him but you could see that they loved each other.

"I'm off to get a carpet square to fix that carpet," Harold kissed his wife and lifted the counter top.

"There's no carpet for sale at the Sail and Anchor Pub Harold," she called after him as he stepped outside.

Harold gave her a dismissive wave and continued on his way.

"Men! Can't live with them; can't live without them, although Mrs Smithers tells me she keeps her mother's little helper in the top drawer of her nightstand and it's a pretty good substitute, doesn't eat or drink and only needs the batteries changed once a week," Gladys burst into peals of laughter at her bawdy joke.

Charlotte couldn't help but laugh along but by now she desperately wanted to get up to her room and be reunited with Robert.

"You go on up love. I'll get your suitcase bought up later. The porter will knock and leave it outside your door," Gladys gave Charlotte a knowing wink.

"It's ok I can manage," Charlotte returned Gladys' smile.

Charlotte climbed the stairs and found the door to their room locked. She frowned. Had Robert gone out?

She unlocked the door and immediately smelled Robert's aftershave. He was lying on the couch dressed in a robe waiting expectantly. He rushed to the door and pulled her into his arms. He kissed her and guided her into the room, kicking the door closed behind them.

"I've missed you so much," he held her tight and kissed her again.

The kiss was long and passionate and Charlotte could feel his excitement.

Charlotte was able break free of his grasp and drop her handbag on the table.

"Can I look around?" she asked.

"Of course you can darling. I'll open some champagne and pour us a glass; there's not much to see really," Robert went over to the little bar-fridge and brought out the champagne while Charlotte admired the snug little sitting room.

The furniture was old but in good taste and they had views of the beach from the bay window. There was a cosy bedroom with a tiny ensuite bathroom. It was modest but clean and well appointed.

It was not lost on Charlotte that Robert had called her 'darling' and was affectionate but reserved. She'd half-expected him to ravage her as soon as she arrived but he had shown great restraint. He was indeed treating her like his girlfriend rather than his strumpet. It was just how she had dreamed it would be.

"I'm going to freshen up," Charlotte called out as she closed the door to the bedroom.

Robert was a little disappointed but she'd had a long drive so it was to be expected.

When she emerged from the bedroom ten minutes later Robert was assured the wait was worth it.

Charlotte emerged wearing a black nylon and lace negligee under which he could see that she was wearing red satin knickers, a matching suspender belt to which were attached long, fully-fashioned black stockings and her feet were shod in red high-heels. She reeked of 'Poison' his favourite perfume.

"Don't get up," she grinned at him as he tried to scramble out of the overstuffed armchair.

She sidled over to him and sat in his lap and let him explore her body as he kissed her deeply. His breath was sweet and his tongue explored her mouth, his hands caressed her insignificant breasts but her nipples hardened to his touch, they ranged down her soft white flesh to her thighs were they lingered at her stocking-tops. He stroked her thighs and then his fingers found her hard inside her knickers. He softly stoked her erect penis through her silky panties while he continued to kiss her passionately.

She explored his muscled chest and hard flat belly and when her fingers found his manhood he gasped into her mouth. He lifted her out of the chair and carried her to the bedroom and lay her on the bed.

"I'm sorry I can't wait," he whispered into her mouth.

"I can't either," she opened her legs for him to lie between them.

He put a pillow under her buttocks and lifted her legs, all the time staring lovingly into her beautiful face. The expression of bliss on Charlotte's face as he entered her conjured both lust and endearment. She wrapped her legs around him, content to feel her lover deep inside her. It had been weeks since they had been together and they were both excited.

Robert kissed Charlotte as he ever so slowly thrust himself in and out of her tight channel, barley moving, scared he would climax too soon. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his face to hers, kissing him lovingly as she pressed herself against him, content in the feel of his hard body on top of her. His pubis pressed against her hard cock still trapped in her panties. He was being considerate, he knew that she loved it and it was her favourite way to climax; he deep inside her, his hard belly rubbing on her cock.

Charlotte wriggled her buttocks indicating that she was close and Robert was glad because he was having trouble holding back his orgasm. He pushed himself inside her all the way and released.

Charlotte felt his cock pulsate and the heat of his ejaculate as he came deep in her anus and she locked her legs tighter around his torso and rose up and gyrated her groin into his belly, flooding her panties with her issue.

They never broke the kiss all through their lovemaking and clung to each other like sole survivors cast adrift. There was genuine tenderness between them, an understanding that their contentment could only be fulfilled by fulfilling the needs of the other.

Robert bought the champagne into the bedroom and they lay on the covers talking, kissing and caressing until it got cold and then Charlotte kicked off her heels and they snuggled under the covers which lead to another bout of tender lovemaking. They fell asleep in each other's arms.

When they awoke it was dark and Robert arose first and turned on the lights before heading into the ensuite to freshen up.

"Are we going out tonight?" Charlotte called through the door, draining the last of the champagne.

"Of course we're going out. I'm taking you out on the town," Robert called back.

Like any young woman about to go out on a date for the first time with her boyfriend Charlotte was in a quandary as to what to wear. Robert's had said they would explore St James's Street in Kemptown and find a pub that served decent food. She wanted to dress to please Robert but not too proactively.

She laid out the clothing she had bought on the bed and selected a body-sculpting lightweight stretch black cocktail dress with sheer mesh sleeves. It was long enough that she could wear her black fully-fashioned stockings with it. They were holdups so there would be no unsightly bulges from a suspender belt. Speaking of unsightly bulges, she carefully tucked and taped and pulled on a pair of tight black lycra panties to hold everything in place. She had a matching bra that was lightly padded.

When she slipped on her back stilettos and looked at herself in the mirror she was pleased with what she saw. She was wearing her favourite blood-red lipstick and had accentuated her green eyes with a blend of violet and mauve eyeshadow and black mascara and eyeliner. She had rouged her cheeks to accentuate them and selected a shoulder-length brunette bob with honey highlights.

Charlotte must have looked good because Robert kept pestering her and she had to keep slapping his hands away.

"Plenty of time for that later," she chided him but was pleased that he found her alluring.

Robert was wearing a tailored charcoal suit with an oversize coat and had washed and styled his now shoulder-length hair. He looked good and Charlotte could hardly wait for them to step out together.

They ran into Harold and Gladys Chatterton who were also dressed for dinner but would be dining in The Ambassador's modest but well-appointed dining room.

"Don't you both look gorgeous," Gladys faffed around them at the bottom of the stairs.

"Where are you off to?" she asked.

"We thought we'd just meander along St James's Street and see what's happening," Robert replied, his arm around Charlotte's waist.

"Oh yes, plenty of places for a young couple like yourselves to have fun there," Gladys smoothed the lapel on Robert's jacket.

"Ok Gladys, settle down and leave the gentleman alone," Harold shook his head but he was smiling.

"Have a good evening you two and don't mind Gladys; she's a bit of a flibbertigibbet as you now know," Harold put his arm affectionately around his wife and guided her to the door leading to the bar.

"See you both later. Enjoy yourselves," Harold said farewell and Charlotte and Robert stepped out into the fresh air laced with the scent of the sea.

Charlotte and Robert walked slowly along the Brighton seafront; the streets were well populated with holiday makers despite the chill in the air. At first Charlotte clung to Robert, still unsure of herself and Robert had to admit he quite liked having Charlotte's body pressed against his. He had his arm around her waist and held her close as they enjoyed the bright coloured lights, the savoury smells and the sounds of music and laughter.

When they entered Brighton Palace Pier the crowds thickened and Charlotte began to feel more comfortable. They walked hand in hand looking at the sideshows and listening to squeals of delight coming from the fairground attractions at the end of the pier. Charlotte also began to realise that it wasn't because everyone had clocked her as a tranny that she was being stared at; it was because she looked so beautiful and alluring. Robert was a handsome man and she a pretty woman, people were bound to stare. She relaxed and Robert sensed it.

"I told you so," he whispered in her ear and she punched him softly in the upper arm, but she was smiling.

They left the pier and turned onto St James's Street where the demographic changed. The family groups and older sightseers were concentrated around the pier. This area had a bohemian ambience and attracted an eclectic crowd. There were young people wearing everything from the height of fashion, to street-trash punk with Mohawk hairstyles and face jewellery, to the elegantly dressed nouveau riche. The bars and restaurants were loud and overflowing and laughter and frivolity filled the air.

More importantly to Charlotte there were openly gay couples walking hand in hand, even kissing and quite a few trans types, everything from outrageously dressed drag queens to elegantly dressed crossdressers. They flaunted their differences rather than hiding them. But Charlotte was comfortable that she was passable and highly unlikely to be clocked.

"Let's go in here," Robert pulled Charlotte into a crowded bar-restaurant.

They were lucky enough to arrive just as a couple was leaving and they snagged a counter-top table with four stools. Robert parked Charlotte on a barstool, kissed her and went to fight a battle at the bar to get them drinks. Although she was no longer self-conscious, she was aware than she was being looked at, particularly by young men. She nervously pulled at the hem of her dress and wished she'd either worn a longer dress or foregone the hold-up stockings. Perched on the stool it was hard to keep the welts covered.

A man who looked to be in his forties was staring blatantly at her from where he stood against the opposite wall of the long narrow bar area. He was dressed in an expensive suit and was confident in his good looks as he smiled at Charlotte. She deliberately broke eye contact and surveyed the crowd.

It was mostly small groups of younger types out for a good time, drinking heavily, eating bar snacks and chattering loudly over the top of one and other. A group of middle-aged gentlemen was sitting at a table just through the divide that separated the barroom from the restaurant proper, surrounded by the debris of a feast, drinking scotch and smoking cigars. Charlotte thought of her father, it was just the sort thing her father was into.

Across from her at a round table was a group of five transvestites, they were dressed very provocatively in miniskirts, nylons and heels and their makeup was overdone and their hair flamboyant. They were not trying to disguise who and what they were; they were just out for a good time and enjoying themselves. If they could be so outwardly enthusiastic about it, what did Charlotte need to worry about, she thought to herself.

"That dress would look great on the floor next to my bed," the man who had been ogling her from across the room was now leaning on the counter-top openly appraising her.

"I'll put you on the floor next to your bed if you like. You'll be there because you will be too wounded from the beating I gave you to climb into it," Robert put down the drinks he'd bought from the bar and glared at the stranger.

The older man looked at Robert and realised he'd be no match for the young fit rugby forward.

"I'm sorry I thought the young lady was by herself," the man tried his sleazy smile on them.

"Look, I don't want any trouble," he apologised.

"Then piss off and find a woman your own age. The pub on the corner is having a grab a granny night. Parents Without Partners are having their weekly get together. Just try not to wake up the kids when you sneak out of the bedroom of the poor unfortunate woman you pick up tonight," Robert stepped in close to the man who took a step back.

"No need to be aggressive," she man swallowed.

"And no need for you to try to pick up a girl young enough to be your daughter. Now fuck off!" Robert growled.

The man turned on his heels and pushed his way through the crowd to the door.

"Tosser," Robert hissed, handing Charlotte her rum and coke.

"I thought he was quite handsome and sophisticated," Charlotte teased.

"I can call him back for you," Robert countered, smiling at her.

"Don't bother, there's plenty of other handsome mature men here to choose from," Charlotte sucked on her straw.

"I didn't know you liked granddads," Robert sipped his drink, playing along with the farce.

He pulled his stool close to Charlotte so that their knees were touching.

"Seriously, thank you so much," Charlotte leaned in and kissed him.

"Don't thank me for defending my girlfriend," Robert replied.

Charlotte was taken aback. There was no doubt that Robert was treating her like his girlfriend, to some extent she thought of herself as his girlfriend but he had never articulated their relationship that way. There was a lot to unpack but now was probably not the time to do so. As it turned out their conversation was about to steered in a totally different direction.

"Robbie! Robbie!" a pretty little thing in a silver lame minidress was waving frantically as she approached their table.

"Shit!" Robert's face fell.

To complement the silver lame minidress the girl was wearing glossy flesh-toned pantyhose and silver strappy heels and if the diamond necklace, bracelets and earrings were real, about a thousand pounds worth of jewellery. Her platinum blonde hair and fringe had been hot crimped and her makeup was perfect: heavy layered foundation, bright pink blush, heavy black eyeliner, blended blue purple and pink eyeshadow, bright blue metallic mascara and pink lip-liner and lipstick.

Her voice was shrill and annoying as she kept calling out Robert's name and determinedly made her way through the crowd to where they were sitting.

The girl sidled up to Robert and planted a big kiss on his cheek. She ignored Charlotte as if she wasn't there.

"Robbie you shit! You didn't tell me you were coming to Brighton. I'm here with Flopsy and Tiggy staying at the Grand. Where are you?" she clung to him like a limpet.

"Rebecca this is Charlotte; Charlotte this Rebecca," Robert ignored her question and made the introductions.

"My friends call me Becky of course," she drawled in a plummy accent.

"I'm just Charlotte," she smiled at Becky.

"So how do you know Robbie?" Becky raised her brows inquisitively.

Robert and Charlotte had a backstory to tell anyone they met casually at the hotel. They were friends on holiday together both taking a break from university but such an inane story would not hold up to scrutiny.

"As you know Robert goes to Chelmsford College and is on a break. I go to Essex University and my family lives near Chelmsford and as is turns out my father and Robert's father are friends and work in London. We ran into each other and he invited me out for a drink," Charlotte decided a half-truth would suffice.

"So you two aren't friends then? You can't be because I know all of Robbie's friends, don't I Robbie?" Becky stroked Robert's arm possessively.

Robert was caught in the lie and obviously didn't know what to say.

"No Becky, Robert and I aren't friends per se, we ran into each other in the hotel lobby and recognised each other from some family get together or the other and as we're both on our own Robert invited me for drink," Charlotte elaborated.

"I did say only my friends call me Becky," her affected accent was beginning to grind on Charlotte.

Charlotte looked befuddled and was about to apologise.

"Don't apologise; I'm just kidding," Becky smiled but the smile never reached her eyes.

"Robbie and I go way back don't we darling. He, Flopsy, Tiggy and I and a bunch of our friends used to play-spin-the bottle when we were young didn't we Robbie? He was the first boy to stick his tongue in my mouth," Becky giggled.

"That was long time ago Becky," Robert looked embarrassed.

Becky had managed to worm her way between Robert and Charlotte and was still clinging to him.

"You were the first boy to stick something else in me too weren't you Robbie?" she grinned salaciously.

"You need to be careful with him Charlotte. He'll be up you like a rat up a drainpipe, you're just his type when he's out slumming, but he always returns to his old stomping ground don't you Robbie?" Becky pecked him on the cheek again.

"Please excuse me while I use the ladies," Charlotte just wanted to get away from the bitchy 'Sloane Ranger', and she did need to go.

It was only when she arrived at the door to the ladies lavatory that she realised that this would be her fist time using the facility. For a brief second she panicked but she soon realised that she would have the privacy of a stall to conduct her business so she confidently opened the door and went into a vacant stall.

She thought that men's conveniences were bad but they had nothing on this pub loo. The floor was wet, the bowl was unflushed, there was toilet paper strewn all over the floor and only three sheets remained on the roll and through the pungent stench of perfume, a scintilla of stale urine assailed her nose.

She was glad she was wearing holdups because it made things easy for her. Her nylons and knickers were going nowhere near the piss-stained floor. She hung her bag on the back of the door, hiked up her dress sat on the seat after flushing it and wiping it with one of the precious leaves of TP. She put her hand in her knickers and freed herself. The first few dribbles soon became a torrent as she relieved herself into the bowl. She used the remaining leaves on the roll to dry herself and then tucked herself away. She flushed and left the cubicle and was nearly bowled over by a waiting patron who had been bouncing up and down on her heels to keep it in.

Charlotte fought for a space at the vanity unit where she washed her hands, freshened her makeup and brushed her hair. Checking that she looked presentable before she exited the ladies.

She noticed that Becky had perched herself on the stool next to Robert and had a fresh drink in front of her as did Robert. The toilets were behind where they were sitting so as they couldn't see her as she pressed through the crowd.

"Oh come on Robbie her family might have some money but she's uncouth. She dresses like a drag queen for fuck sake. Black seamed stockings and that awful do; she's been taking makeup tips from Danny La Rue," Becky was saying as Charlotte came into earshot.

"Hey! Watch yer mouth!" one or the transvestites sitting across from them sniped.

Charlotte watched Robert squirm because what Becky unknowingly was saying was close to the truth.

"You know what Becky? You've always been a snob and you're right... she is my type and I'm not out slumming. Charlotte is articulate, graceful and caring. When I first met her I treated her like shit because that's how I've been conditioned. Well she's changed me. I don't see a trollop in a black minidress; I see a woman who I am proud to be seen with. A woman who I'd much rather spend my time with than you and your toffee-nosed pals."

"So fuck off back to Flopsy and Tiggy and enjoy your holiday and we'll enjoy ours," Robert fumed.

"Oh dear Robbie, you're not shacked up with her are you? Never mind, once you've had your bit of rough you'll come back to where you belong," Becky's plummy accent was grating.

"Oh there you are Charlotte. I was just telling Robbie that I have to leave but I'm sure we'll catch up later. Maybe one day we'll meet up at the same soiree. Your parents are friends of Robbie's after all. Funny we've not met before; but there you go."

"Bye Robbie; pleased to meet you Charlotte," Becky pecked Robert's cheek and walked away.

"You heard what she said," Robert hung his head.

"Yes," Charlotte sat down on the recently vacated stool.

Robert shook his head remorsefully.

"But more importantly I heard what you said," she took his hand in hers.

"Wanna go back to the hotel and play spin the bottle," she leaned into him, kissed the side of his mouth and squeezed his hand.

To be continued