Driving Home - Getting Braver

"I love your outfit," he said. "You look stunning. It really suits you, and I am sure you have drawn some fans in here already."

"Now don't make me blush again," I replied, trying to shrug it off, "I'm sure that's only because they caught sight of my knickers trying to get on this damn stool."

We laughed, and I chose not to mention or otherwise draw attention to the fact that I had also exposed my stocking tops. Although I had chosen a garter belt and stockings that were well up my thighs, I thought that, in hindsight, tights would have been better.

As the bar called time, we settled up and headed back to the hotel. Rather than walk down through the shops, I suggested we go through the parks, as that was the route I usually preferred if not window shopping. As we crossed the road, Paul placed his hand in the small of my back in a protective way, and on arriving the other side he reached out and held my hand, asking if I minded.

Minded? I was elated!

"Not at all," I replied, trying to make nothing of it.

It was late and as the moon shone through the trees we sat on a bench, enjoying the lovely warm evening.

"I've had a lovely evening," I said, "And thanks so much for dinner, and your company. I've had a lovely time. This is a real treat for me, and you should know how much fun I've had."

As Paul was about to reply, I turned to face him and give him a gentle kiss on his lips.

Immediately, my heart raced and I wondered how he may respond.

"Georgia, you are an absolute delight, and it has been a real privilege to enjoy your company tonight. Rarely have I had such a good time with someone so intelligent and gorgeous."

"I'll give you that fiver later," if that's OK, I said, trying to kill my blush and make light of this wonderful compliment.

I stood up as if to make toward the hotel, and as Paul joined me I moved in and held him around his waist, inside his jacket, and simply leaned into him, resting my head sideways on his chest. Somehow, it seemed the right thing to do, and not sexual in any way.

As I lifted my head, Paul looked down at me and kissed me gently, but briefly. My head went into a spin.

"Do you mind?" he asked.

I mean. What is a girl to say? I had not intended to be out late at night kissing guys in the park, but opportunities like this are rare. i.e. Never!

"Not at all," I replied, sounding very English and posh for some strange reason, and closed my eyes as if inviting him back.

As he kissed me, he held my face in his hands, and moved one hand behind my head, teasing his fingers through my hair. The other he placed on my waist under my jacket, and I could tell he was aware of my corset through my blouse.

As he parted, and I regained my senses, trying not to smile so wide the corners of my mouth would go and meet on the back of my head, I simply said, "Thanks, that was very special." It was a divine moment, and one which I shall recall many times. It reminded me of the scene in Notting Hill where Julia Roberts kisses Hugh Grant in the private park. Very romantic. I was in heaven.

I leaned onto him for a few moments and we walked back to the hotel, talking continuously, hand in hand.

When we reached my hotel, we sat opposite the entrance as if we needed to delay our goodbyes. As we chatted, I could not detract my brain from asking me if I should invite him to my room to fuck his brains out. The words of my brain, not mine I hasten to add!

But as if he was psychic, Paul said "I suspect you are wondering if you should invite me up. If you are not, then I apologise profusely and swear never to darken your hotel doorstep again. But I only say that because I am wondering whether I should invite you to my hotel instead."

As I took in that proposal, Paul continued, "I am single, as you know, and also as you know from our earlier chat, I have taken a few trans women to dinner, and to bed, but."

"There is always a But," I said, before I could help myself.

He smiled. "No, let me finish. But never before have I met someone quite like you. Not ever. Not since I met my wife, actually."

This surprised me. No, shook me. His openness and honesty shook me. He really didn't need to say that. I didn't reply.

He stood up and moved toward me, standing directly in front of me, and continued.

"Georgia. I need to make sense of this evening. Believe me, I would love to take you to bed, if you'd have me. But not tonight. Not tonight. You have stolen my heart in a way I thought not possible, and I need to work out what to do with that."

I paused in case he was going to say anything else to shatter my world.

"Paul, you are a very special man. For me, this was simply an alternative to eating alone and when I went online, I expected to find another sad old girl who wanted to share an evening. I didn't expect to find a guy, and I didn't expect to find a true gentleman, who also happens to be very handsome. I have had a great night. Wonderful actually. I really cannot understand where the nearly six hours have gone. It felt like two."

"It is true that I was thinking about asking you up to my room, so no apology is needed. I feel a connection with you and I am not sure if it is simply sexual or something else. Your kiss, by the way, sends me to another place. Keep it up big guy."

I immediately felt embarrassed by what I just said.

Honestly Georgia, where did that come from?

After a moment's pause, I continued "Let's swap numbers, and if you feel like calling sometime, let me know and maybe we can meet up again. But, before you go, would you mind kissing me one more time?"

I couldn't stop myself. Every cell in my body was yearning to take Paul to bed, and never let him out again.

"I'd be very happy to," he replied, and he kissed me long and passionately, holding me close as he did so, such that when he finished and released his grip I almost fell to the floor. My legs had gone to jelly.

As Paul steadied me, he asked "Are you allright?"

"No. Yes. No, I'm fine, really, I'm fine. It's that damn kiss of yours!"

We hugged and laughed and it was clear that neither of us wished to say goodnight, or goodbye. We looked into each other's eyes seeking out each other's soul and both knew that something had happened that night.

Eventually, we went our own ways and when I returned to my room, I enjoyed DIY sex whilst dreaming of him mounting me missionary style. Naughty girl!

I wondered if, or when we might meet.

I also marvelled at how much more confident I had been given a proper makeover and a new look. I had hardly worried about being watched, pointed at, or ridiculed at all during the whole evening, and I contemplated whether it really was the makeover, or just being with Paul.