We sat at that table with the big red and white striped umbrella on the lawn outside the coffee bar, the gentle sea breeze blowing across the grass, the sun actually shining for once, not your usual English summer, and just looked at each other. He still had his hand over one of mine. My long coral-pink nails curled around his fingers, holding him there.

My heart had leaped when he told me we were still friends a few moments ago, and we seemed to be frozen there for a little while. It was one of those moments that brands itself into your very soul and you wish would last forever.

I can hardly begin to tell you how happy that had made me. We had first become friends, best friends, at the age of eleven and had continued in that relationship for the next six years until he left school and went away to work. I stayed on at school for a while, imagining I might go to university, but that hadn't come to pass and I had not seen him again until today, another six years later. Even after all that had happened in those years I had never forgotten him. He had always had a special place in my heart.

“Well, go on then,” he said. “Stop looking dopey and spaced-out and tell me all about it.”

“About what?” I played dumb, knowing what he wanted, but savouring the moment.
.

He laughed and took his hand off of mine. I wished he hadn’t. It was so comforting, almost intimate. He waved both hands at me.

“You, of course. Why? How? When did you know? Where have you been? What have you been doing with yourself? I did come looking for you, you know, when I came back to Brighton, but nobody seemed to know where you’d gone. I even rang your mum, but she was pretty vague and just said you were in London working. She didn’t even have your phone number.”

It was my turn to laugh, more than a little bitterly, seeing that she had finally disowned me only a couple of days ago. “Oh, she knew my phone number all right, but she didn’t like you; never has....thought you were a bad influence.”

“Jesus! Me? A bad influence? Look at you now. I didn't have anything to do with that.”

“I know, I know. None of this was anything to do with you. She won’t even talk to ME now, and God knows I’ve tried.”

“Well, I guess that doesn’t surprise me. You do come as a bit of a shock, you know. The only thing I found out was that people said you’d been seen about town with this gorgeous bird a few months before. I didn’t believe that for a moment. You were such a dumb-shit with women. Anyway, quit stalling and start telling.”

“That bit was actually true. That was Lucy. She was my girlfriend and still is, believe it or not, the love of my life. You'd like her, although she's not your normal sort. Well, after you joined the railways I went back to school to get my A-Levels, but it didn’t work out. They were still treating me like a kid and it got up my nose so I left a couple of months later. I got this ratshit job as a tracer and I was spinning my wheels until she came along and, like they say, took me away from all that.”

“Shit, did she ever. OK, from the beginning. I have to get my head round this.”

I took a deep breath. Please let him understand.

“I remember it started when I was about eleven, maybe even earlier. I always felt like I was the odd one out. I used to get these uncontrollable urges to dress in my mother’s clothes. Yeah, I know, glamorous she is not. I’m sure if I’d had a sister I would have dressed in her clothes, but I didn’t, so I had to make do with what I could. So I used to dress as a girl as often as I could at home. I couldn’t tell you or anyone else. I was so ashamed and scared that if anybody knew they would kill me.”

“But why? What did it do for you?”

“It made me feel right inside. Somehow, it made me feel that this is how I should really be. I don’t expect you to understand. There I was, a boy, and I didn’t want to be one. I should never have been one. I wanted to be a girl. No, even that's not right...I WAS a girl, really.”

“But you always seemed to be interested in girls, not boys. You weren’t much good at picking them up though.”

“Look, I don’t understand it all myself. I’m NOT interested in boys, not even now. I don’t know what that makes me, but that’s the way I am, like it or lump it. Anyway, I went all through school hiding what I felt like and by the time I left I was resigned to the fact that it would always be a dream and I’d just have to live with it as best I could.”

“So what changed?”

“Lucy came along. Oh, it wasn’t like that at first. She picked me up, so you’re right, as usual. It wasn’t my skill with women, just plain dumb luck, being in the right place at the right time. I went to live with her, just looking after her and an opportunity to get away from home. Then, when we’d been together for about six months we went to see "Some Like It Hot". You remember, the movie where Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon had to dress as women to escape from The Mob?

"Anyway, when we got home she made up my face for fun, to see what I looked like as a girl. I was so excited I couldn’t hide my feelings from her and it turned her on too. I had been so afraid she would hate me if she found out, but she didn't. She worked out pretty quickly that I liked it way too much. Then one thing led to another and she helped me, showed me how to dress properly, to move and to speak like a girl,and soon I was going out dressed as a girl and loving every minute of it. I couldn't get enough of it. It felt so right and I just knew this was the real me. I was like an addict, I guess you’d say, and she encouraged me and taught me what to do, how to really be a girl, not just a boy in a dress.”

“Yeah, I can understand it turning her on. You’re sure as shit turning me on.”

I grinned at him. “Pour a bucket of cold water over it, mate. We’re friends, remember.”

“Uh, yeah. That’s right. Can you put a bag over your head or somethin’?”

“Shut up, dickhead, and listen while I finish." I slapped his hand playfully. "It became permanent. I not only dressed as a girl all the time. I BECAME a girl. I lived full-time as a female for over a year and almost forgot ever having been a boy. Then Lucy put me onto hormones. Boy, did we have a row about that, but she convinced me it was for the best and actually it was what I really, truly wanted when I got over being terrified, so I carried on taking them and gradually my body got into harmony with my mind and my soul, I suppose you would call it. A year ago I had the operation and I’ve never been happier or more comfortable with myself. The only problem is that there are other people who do have a problem with it, like my parents, but I have to live with that. So what about you?”

“I already told you. I can live with it. I’ve got a confession to make, though. When I got your letter and the photo of you I sort of didn’t really believe it, so I actually got here early and scoped you out from where you couldn’t see me.

"I didn’t know if I could face you or not, but when I saw that you looked like your twin sister I decided it was genuine and I couldn’t just walk away without at least talking to you, so I wasn’t late at all. I was scared.” He looked uncharacteristically shamefaced.

It made me giggle and this time I put my hand over his and held it. He didn’t flinch at all and returned my grasp and it came back to me that I really, really liked this man.

“That’s OK. So was I. You don't know how much I needed you to be OK with me, especially after the disaster with my parents.” I said. “Now it’s your turn. What have you been up to?”

“Not a lot...at least compared to you. I’m still with the railway, but I’m working here in Brighton now. I qualified, of course, so now I’m supposed to be a Q.S. (quantity surveyor). I got married to Carole three years ago. Too young. Never should have done it. It was a train wreck and she left me eighteen months ago.”

I remembered Carole. He had had an on-again off-again relationship with her while we were still at school. She was one of his less ditzy girl-friends, very attractive and with the pre-requisite big boobs, but she had made it plain she didn’t like me. She would probably like me even less now. Then, I swear, he blushed like a beetroot.

“Can I ask you something?” he said in a kind of bashful voice, and went on as if to get it out before he changed his mind. “Can I see you? You know, really see you, and see what you look like now.”

“What the fuck do you mean?”

“Can I see you naked?” He looked everywhere but at me. I don’t remember ever seeing him that embarrassed before.

“Why would I let you do that, you horny little bastard?”

“No! No! It’s not....I mean....I don't mean it like that, honest. I’m curious, that’s all, and we’re friends, aren’t we? I mean, I used to see your skinny bones in the showers at school all the time, and I wondered what you look like now. If you don’t want to, it’s OK.”

I thought about it for a while. He had come through for me, after all. What would Lucy say? She’d probably cheer me on. She always reckoned I was a wimp. Anyway, what could be so bad about doing a small favour for my best friend?

“All right, then, but there might be a price to pay. If you’re game we’ll go to my hotel room. I’m staying at The Grand.”

“What price?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t worked that out yet. Well, do you want to or not? Make up your mind.”

He swallowed. I could see his Adams Apple bob up and down. “OK, let’s go then.”

We got up and I tucked my arm into his. We walked across the lawns towards The Grand with me towering over him by five inches, but he had recovered his composure and strutted like Napoleon out with his Josephine, no humility in sight. I felt so proud of him. We reached the hotel five minutes later and went up to my room on the third floor. None of the staff batted an eyelid as we marched across the foyer and into the lift. In lesser hotels some officious flunkey may have tried to query our entry.

We went into my room, a nice sea-view suite with high ceilings, a bathroom and a dressing room. God, it’s good to have money after you’ve been poor. To think I once washed dishes in the basement kitchen. Those WEREN'T the days.

I could see he was impressed although he tried not to show it. I went to the walk-in wardrobe and hung my jacket. You have to look after Mary Quant gear. Then I turned to him and said:

“How do you want to do this? Will I find some suitable music on the radio and do a striptease for you, or will I just rip it all off and throw myself on the bed with my legs apart?”

He gulped. “Look, just undress normally. Please, I’m not trying to be a bastard, honest. When I’ve seen what you look like I’ll go.”

“You’ll go when I say you can go. I just decided, that’s part of the price.”

I would never have said that to him when I was a boy. Being a girl gives you power.

I decided to give him a bit of a show anyway, so I kicked off my shoes and hitched up my skirt and slowly undid the hangers that held up my stockings, and then I sat on the bed and rolled the nylons down my legs, as raunchily as I could, letting him get more than a glimpse of my panties. I stood again and took off my top and then shimmied my skirt down to my ankles and stepped out of it. I paraded in my bra, panties and suspender belt while I picked up the outfit and hung it. His jaw wasn’t quite hanging down but his mouth was open.

Suddenly, I felt in full control of the situation. Here I had a man practically drooling over me. It was all I could do not to openly giggle.

I stood in front of him, undid my bra strap and threw the garment on the bed. His eyeballs were on stalks, glued to my breasts. Then I did the same with my suspender belt. Now clad in only my panties I did a pirouette so that he could get a good view of my hips and bum as well. Then, while still facing away from him I took off my panties as well, keeping my legs close together so that he still couldn’t see my pussy. Slowly, I turned to face him again, legs now a little apart and gave him a full frontal view.

His mouth was open even wider. I was afraid his teeth would fall out.

“Seen enough?” I asked him, after about thirty seconds.

He flopped into the room’s armchair with a stunned look on his face.

“Shit! You’re so beautiful. And it suits you. I remember you in the showers at school. You were all bones and angles. You’ve got softer and rounder and smoother all over. Such lovely boobs.” He dried up.

“Well, Geoff, you’re seeing the best that money can buy and those surgeons can carve.”

I pirouetted again, slowly, savouring the moment.

“I can’t get over your pussy. It’s the nicest I’ve ever seen.”

“Yeah, and you’ve seen more than a few, haven’t you? I suppose I should take that as a compliment. Well, you got what you wanted. What now?”

“Can you put something on? You’re driving me bonkers.”

I went and got a peignoir from the wardrobe and slipped into it, deliberately sashaying across to sit on the bed.

“Now it’s payback time,” I said.

“What do you mean?”

“I decided on my price. It’s your turn to strip. You’ve seen me, now I want to see you.”

“Hang on a minute. I didn’t agree to that.”

“Oh! Scared are we? What happened to the tough little Geoff I used to know, then? Since when have you been afraid to strip in front of a woman? What have you got to be ashamed of?”

“Yeah, but you saw me in the showers too, and I don’t have anything different from then.”

“How do you know I was looking? And anyway, that was over six years ago. Maybe you’ve shrunk. Still thinking of me as a boy are we?” I taunted him.

He reddened. A slur on the manhood always works. “OK, OK, OK. I'll do it.”

He stood and took off his jacket, throwing it over the back of the armchair, sat down again, took off his shoes and socks. He pulled the shirt-tails from his waistband, undid the buttons and slipped it off, laying it on top of his jacket. Then he undid his belt and unzipped the fly on his pants, letting them drop to the floor before stepping out of them and adding them to the pile on the armchair. He stood before me in singlet and underpants. The bulge showed very clearly. He doffed the vest in a single motion and just dropped it on the floor. He was much hairier than I remembered, dark and curly and, all of a sudden, I wanted to run my fingers through his chest hair. My mouth went dry.

Then he almost hesitantly dropped his underpants. As though released from prison his cock stood straight out. Was that a compliment too, or only normal male lust?

“Now I know why you’re so short,” I said. “All the extra growth went into your dick. If you could stand it on your head you’d be at least two inches taller than me.”

“All right, you‘ve had your fun. Can I get dressed now?” He asked almost angrily.

“No,” I said. “I want to look at you for a bit. It’s different now. You’ve put on some muscle and you’ve got more hair on your chest, and this little feller is bigger than I’ve ever seen him. If we’re going to be friends we have to know what each other look like, don’t we?”

A voice in my head was telling me I’m not interested in men and I was telling it to shut up. There are exceptions and there was one standing in front of me.

“It’s not little!” Wounded male pride broke through.

"No, it's not, is it? It's much bigger than the one I used to have."

I reached forward a hand, almost as if on automatic, and ran a fingernail down its length. He quivered like a hound waiting to be set after a fox. I shouldn’t have done it but I couldn’t resist. It seemed to get harder and longer. It looked beautiful.

I loosened the tie on my peignoir and let the garment drop to the floor, so that we stood there, both naked, facing each other. I don’t know what came over me. I gazed into his eyes and said, “Just between friends, OK?”

Then I dragged the fingernails of both hands through his chest hair and down his body to his groin. I got goose-pimples all over. I bent my knees and knelt in front of him as I did it, so that I ended up with his cock in my hands right in front of my lips. The little voice kept on saying, “You don’t like men.” And I kept on saying, “Shut the fuck up.”

That rigid rod in front of me was like a magnet. My tongue crept out and licked the tip of his dick. My hands had a will of their own and pulled back along his shaft, taking his foreskin with them. I felt like kissing the mushroom on the end and then engulfing the whole shaft in my mouth. What the hell was happening to me? I couldn't believe I was feeling like this. I mentally shook myself and stood up again and held him by the cheeks with both hands.

“Don’t!” he croaked, so I kissed him. It was a proper girl-boy kiss and he responded properly. His arms were round my waist and his cock was slipping between my thighs. I felt my nipples swell and harden as they pressed against his chest, tickled by his hair. I somehow hadn’t noticed myself getting wet too. My heart was beating like I don't know what.

I broke off the kiss and pulled away from him, but only so I could take his hand and lead him over to the bed, where I pushed him down on his back and spread his legs. He lay there like a stunned mullet while I climbed onto the bed and knelt in the Vee between his legs. I grasped his tool with both hands and gently pulled them down the shaft so that his foreskin rolled back completely, exposing a swollen purple helmet.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he gasped.

Silly question. I didn’t answer. It’s hard to talk with your mouth full. I had plunged onto him like a vacuum cleaner. It didn’t take long for him to climax. I could feel that extra swelling and hardness just before he came. When he did I thought he’d never stop, but I swallowed it all. My God. My first blowjob and I loved it. And I don't like men.

I slid up the bed and lay beside him. He still looked stunned. I kissed him again.

“I’m no expert on men,” I said. I tried to continue but he interrupted.

“Coulda fooled me.”

“As I was saying, I’m no expert on men but I reckon you haven’t been with a woman for a while, going by what you had in storage there.”

He hesitated before he spoke. “Actually, I have to admit I haven’t slept with anyone since Carole went. She sort of put me off girls. I picked up a few, but when it came down to it I couldn’t follow through. Not until just now, anyway.”

“So you admit you like boys then?” I teased, stroking the hair on his chest.

He laughed. “You’re no boy. I doubt you ever were, and you just proved it.” He had begun playing with my nipples in an absent-minded sort of way during this exchange, keeping them hard, and I was still wet and unsatisfied. Then he surprised me, twisting half over me and taking one of my nipples in his mouth and teasing it with his tongue. A thousand little electric shocks coursed through my body.

My hand drifted down and grasped his shaft. It had already stiffened again and I really wanted it inside me.

I don't like men. I gave it a few strokes and it got harder. I could feel the muscles straining as it swelled and became even more rigid. I knew I really wanted it inside me.

“Well, are you the only one who’s going to have any fun, or are you going to return the favour?” I asked him.

“You seem to be the one in control here, so why don’t you tell me?”

By way of reply I straddled him and slowly engulfed his tumescent tool with my pussy, feeling it every inch of the way until it was in as far as it would go. Wow! What a marvellous feeling! It seemed to be splitting me apart but making me squeeze back harder with every inch of penetration but I was so wet that it just slid in smoothly. I put my hands on his chest and entwined my fingers in that curly dark hair. We looked at each other and I knew it was not lust I saw in his eyes, just as I knew it was not lust in my own. This was the same look that Lucy and I shared, dare I say it. LOVE.

I started to use my internal muscles and gently pump up and down before I lost my nerve. >I DON’T LIKE MEN THAT WAY . He swelled inside me. My body didn’t care what my mind said I didn't like and told me so in no uncertain terms, the sensations becoming more and more intense, taking me into a country where I'd never been before. I was soon moving faster and stroking longer, my muscles squeezing against his swelling, and Geoff was in counterpoint beneath me. We seemed to go deeper with every stroke and then my mind sort of went blank as all will left me and my body arched, straining every muscle and tendon, and I CAME and he did too. I think I may have screamed.

Seconds later I collapsed and rolled off him to lie next to him, panting.

“Well, well. So you got some fun after all, did you?”

I punched him in the arm, weakly. “It was all your fault. You started it. You’re the one who wanted to see me naked.”

“Just like a woman. Blame me, but I didn’t set the price. Anyway, who gives a shit?” He put his arms around me and kissed me again.

I kissed him right back and all my reservations about not liking men....well, this man.....melted away. we continued to nuzzle each other and one thing led to another. My nipples were carved out of stone and he had this beautiful THING jutting out from his groin. This time I was on the bottom and I guided him into dock.

The encore was even better now that my mind wasn't telling my body any lies. I could get used to this very easily. The surgeon could be proud of me now. My equipment was doing what it was designed for and doing it very well, I thought.

Later we got up and showered together and dried each other off. He started to get hard again when I towelled between his legs.

“Stop it,” he said, “or we’ll have to shower again.”

“I could live with that.”

“Yeah, so could I, but there’s one other thing I want to ask you to do for me.”

“God, haven’t I done enough already?”

He reached out a hand and fondled my cheek. “Yes, Suzie, love, but humour me, OK? Do you have any high-heels with you?”

“What, are you getting kinky now? Of course I do.”

“Will you go and put them on for me? The highest ones you’ve got.”

I went and got my four-inch pumps and put them on, and then struck a pose in front of him, looking down at him with a nine inch advantage, stark naked except for the shoes. He grabbed one hand as if for a dance and slid his other arm around my waist, then stepped forward and buried his face in the cleavage between my boobs, kissing first one then the other, backwards and forwards. I couldn’t stop laughing as I pushed him away.

He looked up at me with a huge grin on his face. “Windscreen wipers,” he said. “I’ve always wanted to do that, but I never had a girlfriend tall enough.”

I was still laughing when the words sank in. “Girlfriend?” I don’t like men that way, but I could make an exception in his case. What would Lucy say? I was sure she would like this cheeky little bugger and I suddenly knew for certain that I had room in my heart for two.

“Do you mean that? You’d better or I’ll flatten you.”

“Course I mean it you silly cow. We’re still friends aren’t we?”

I’d seen that shit-eating grin before. I loved it.

THE END

P.S. Will grovel for comments! Tell me if you DON’T like it too. Your input may improve my writing.