I had made some money and lost some friends and family because of it. I simply decided that I was in a position to let her loose. She was a better person than I was – Ida – the woman inside me.

The money I had made I spent to make me look more like her - a woman. I did not try to hide my age, or at least not too much. I had lived a life, and I always thought that the right kind of men would find that attractive.

It was not that I was looking for men, I just wanted men to look at me. I had only had sex with women, and I was not expecting my preference to change.

I would dress in an alluring style – not overtly sexy so that I might be mistaken for a whore. I was going for the divorced business woman waiting for a blind date to turn up. Sometimes I would even turn to a man of appropriate age and say something like – “You wouldn’t happen to be Kevin, would you?” It was just to use my cultivated feminine voice and have a man take a closer look, and perhaps win a compliment. It would never go further. I would make excuses and go.

But part of the problem was my own lack of confidence. When I first went out like that, I was unsure of myself and I preferred darker bars, and in such places, you rarely meet the right people. And those bars seem to have staff and customers that seem to be part of the furniture. I did not want to be seen to reappear and become just another bargirl – if not looking to get laid then at least to win a free drink or two. I am not that kind of person. I needed to do better in this new life I had chosen.

There was a bar down on Harding Street. It was tasteful – lots of mahogany but well lit. I felt confident enough in my appearance to go there. All the scars of surgery were gone, and I had grown my dyed and repositioned hair down to my shoulders. I was accomplished with makeup and now had the cheekbones that I wanted. I chose a dress that covered my great breasts but showed off my even better legs, and I decided to go without jewelry that night – I don’t know why.

I could see immediately that this bar was frequented by executives or businessmen, and not the kind who don’t live their work – those who take their tie off as they leave the office. I was never like that.

“Do you know a guy called Kevin?” I asked the barman. “He might be a regular here. He has asked me to meet him and I am a little late. I hope I haven’t missed him. A lady is entitled to be a little late – don’t you think? I suppose I am duty bound to wait for a while. Could I just have a club soda with a lime wedge?”

I just took a seat at the bar where I could see customers arriving and they could see me. It is the place a woman might sit if waiting for a blind date, I think. It meant that I could be seen, and that was what I was there for. To be looked at and admired for what I now was – a woman.

Some men would smile, or even better, look me up and down and imagine me lying naked across their bed. Regardless of my past male heterosexuality, I still liked that thought, and the look it brought to a man’s face.

If I was approached with a few words, I might smile and explain that my date was just about to arrive, but occasionally I had been known to accept a drink on a “no strings attached” basis.

I noticed a man come in out of the corner of my eye, because the barman signaled to him and then spoke to him, gesturing towards me.

To my surprise this man immediately came towards me. He was a little older than me perhaps, but with a good head of hair and a youthful wispy beard. He was wearing a bespoke suit, a silk tie and before I knew it he was kissing me, pushed up against the bar!

“Darling, I’m sorry I’m late,” he said. “I am Kevin. Kevin Stockton. The man who intends to steal your heart … if not tonight then tomorrow night, or the night after that.”

It seemed so difficult to understand how a sexual preference can change in an instant, as if a bolt of lightning had readjusted me to suddenly behave more appropriately to my new body. I had invented Kevin just to be a bargirl that night, and then suddenly I was on a path that would end with love.

The End

Author's Note: The AI image prompted by Linda Summers 214 is titled "Sissy Being Roughly Kissed by Man at the Bar" and inspired this short piece.