Finding Rhiannon Pt. 04

FINDING RHIANNON

Chapter 4 -- A Hint of Citrus

It was not going well. I'd only taken a few steps into the street when the whispering started. I glanced around and, while nobody was looking at me, I had the strongest sense that they just had been.

The clack of my heels on the sidewalk sounded unnaturally loud, almost but not quite drowning out the low voices around me. I strained to hear what they were saying but the wind seemed to carry the words away. The same wind that was lifting my skirt, revealing my stocking tops.

Again, I looked around, but couldn't seem to catch anyone staring at me. But they all were, I knew it. Groaning, I cursed myself. Why on earth had I ever let myself be talked into going out, looking like this?

It was all Lucy's fault. She'd wanted me to wear her clothes. She'd even insisted I wear these ridiculous heels. They were so high. And so loud! I couldn't hear anything else now, just the sound of the heels, tapping away. Tap, tap, tap. Resisting the urge to scream, I lifted my hands to my ears...

And opened my eyes. Blinking, I tried to make sense of where I was. The room was dim. But there was enough light coming in through the curtains for me to realise it was still light outside.

As I rolled off my side and propped myself up on an elbow, I realised I was in bed. But something was... not wrong, but weird. It took me a minute to realise that it was the feel of the sheets on my skin. It must be some strange kind of material, to feel like that... Except it wasn't. It was my skin that was strange...

As memory flooded back I sat bolt upright. I was in Martin's bed. No, not Martin's -- Lucy's. The woman who shared a flat with him, but whom I hadn't yet met. Although I'd used some of her toiletries and even borrowed her dress. Oh god, that's right -- I had been wearing a dress. And not just a dress...

My eyes went to the lacy underwear neatly piled on a nearby chair. I had been trapped in a lingerie store, invisible and unheard. Putting on some of the sexier merchandise had allowed me to become visible again in a mirror. But it wasn't until Martin showed up and used his beautician's skills to apply makeup that I'd been able to get out of the store. Though as far as I knew it was still only Martin who could see me. Oh wait, no, there was also...

Zoe. I closed my eyes in shock as I remembered Martin's neighbour. She had seen me dressed and made up as a woman -- and taken me for one too. But that wasn't the worst of it. She had come right out and asked if I wanted to join her and some friends for a drink later in the day!

I had looked at Martin in a panic, appealing silently for help. And after staring at me blankly for a few seconds, he had smiled -- actually smiled! -- and come out with the last thing I expected. "I'm sure Rhiannon would love to join us," he said, "wouldn't you?"

I was too dazed to do anything but nod hesitantly. "Only don't expect her to talk too much," he added, clearly improvising. "She's got a shocking sore throat. I'm sure a drink or too wouldn't hurt though."

So that was it. He and Zoe arranged where to meet and he contrived to get her out of the apartment without any further interaction with me. When he came back I was so furious I nearly punched him.

"What the hell did you do that for?" I hissed. "I can't go out dressed like this!"

He was so calm, it was infuriating. "You walked here from the store dressed in less," he pointed out. "Besides, we were going to go out anyway and find out if more people can see you. If Zoe can, maybe others will too."

He grinned. "And anyway, you look convincing enough to be a girl. As long as you don't topple off those heels."

The argument continued for a while, but I had to admit he was right. Or at least not wrong. Whatever strange thing was happening to me, I had to find out more. Maybe this was the next step I needed to take to win back control over my life. So, I needed to deal with it as best I could... and try not to think about the mounting cost to my masculinity.

All this flashed through my mind as I slowly slipped out of bed, trying hard to ignore the sensuous feel of the sheets against my newly hairless body.

At least I felt a little more rested. The lengthy nap I had taken had clearly made up for some of the sleep I'd lost the night before at the store. Though how I was going to manage to pass as a woman while out for a drink with a group of them, I had no idea...

The more immediate question was being posed by the insistent tapping on the door. Only now was my brain telling me that it had been going on for some time.

"Rhiannon?" The voice was soft and it came from the corridor outside the room in which I'd been sleeping. "Rhiannon, are you awake?"

Ignoring the now-familiar thrill that seemed to course through me when I heard that name, I responded slightly irritably. "I am now."

I was about to ask what time it was when a thought penetrated the sleep-induced fog still clouding my brain. That had not been Martin's voice.

"Who-" I croaked, then tried again. "Who is it?" I knew the answer before it came.

"It's Lucy. Can I come in?"

I stared at the door, not moving a muscle. It seemed an age before I could summon up the willpower to answer. "Uh, just give me a minute?"

Suddenly wide awake, I stared at my discarded clothing in dismay. I couldn't put the dress -- Lucy's dress! -- back on, surely. Yet nor could I appear before her clad only in the most revealing lingerie.

It only occurred to me later that I'd been doing just that this morning in front of her male housemate without batting a heavily mascara-ed eyelid. Or at least without anything like the same degree of embarrassment.

There were no male garments around, and in any event my last attempt to put on what I still regarded as normal clothing had left me feeling nauseous and uncomfortable.

There was nothing for it. With a muttered curse I started pulling on the underwear. Even with a little practice behind me it still took a while to get the corset laced up and the black stockings attached to the suspenders on the garter belt. If there was one upside to my panic, it was that I was too distracted to react to the feel of the lingerie on my skin.

When I had finished I stared dubiously at the dress for a moment and then shrugged and pulled it on. If Lucy didn't like me wearing it she could take it up with Martin. He was the one who suggested it would be okay for me to have it. He'd even picked it out...

Smoothing the too-short skirt down so that it covered my stocking tops, I slipped into the black pumps I'd liberated from the lingerie store. There was something reassuring in the way they lengthened my legs, even if I was still learning how to stand and walk in them.

Taking a deep breath, I walked over to the door and opened it.

The figure in the corridor outside was silhouetted against the early evening sun streaming in from the bathroom behind her. From my position inside the darkened bedroom her features were indistinct. But I could see enough to make out that she was young and pretty.

Her long, lightly curled blonde (or perhaps red?) hair tumbled to shoulders left bare by the electric blue top she was wearing. The narrow but deep cut in the front revealed just a hint of the smallish breasts underneath. Involuntarily, my eyes followed the plunging neckline down to the short denim skirt that did nothing to hide long and attractive bare legs. Her toenails were painted in a bright blue that closely matched the top.

As I dragged my gaze back up I saw that she was smiling, her brightly painted mouth parted to reveal dazzling white teeth. I flushed guiltily. It was all I could do to stammer out "Er, hi, I'm, ah -"

"Rhiannon, I know. Are you feeling better for a sleep?" The voice was soft and slightly throaty, the cultured accent suggesting a wealthy upbringing.

"Uh, yes, thanks, but look, about the dress, I mean your dress..." I gestured awkwardly at the offending item.

She shook her head dismissively, still smiling. "Don't be silly, you were told it was okay to wear it, weren't you? And the same goes for anything else in my wardrobe, at least while you're trying to work out how to get your life back."

I frowned. "Did Martin tell you about -- about what happened to me?"

This time she laughed. "No, silly -- you did!" She spun on her heel and walked off down the corridor, beckoning me for me to follow. "Now come on, we don't want to keep Zoe and the girls waiting, do we?"

I went after her as quickly as my heels allowed. " What do you mean,you did? The only person I've told about any of this is..."

I stopped as Lucy reached the living room and turned to face me, the light full on her. Not for the first time that day, my jaw fell open.

The hair -- which I could now see was a strawberry blonde colour with light reddish streaks -- was very different. So too was the voice and the way she moved. The cheekbones were more pronounced. The appearance was totally, undeniably feminine. But the clear blue eyes that looked back at me with wry amusement were also unmistakably familiar.

"Martin!" I exclaimed. "Wait, you're Lucy?"

"Not at all." she said. "The person you're looking at is Lucy, not Martin. Just as he's Martin, not Lucy. It is a bit hard to get your head around... But if you think of us as two separate people, that's a lot easier. We're just never around at the same time..."

She held up her hand to forestall what she could see what was going to be a string of questions. "Look, we'll talk about it later, okay? For now, I'd just like to concentrate on getting ready to go out. We're going to be late as it is... Now, where are those shoes? Oh yes, I left them in Martin's room. Hang on, just give me a minute."

She scurried out and came back a moment later noticeably taller, her feet in open-toed sandals with heels a good inch or two higher than mine. She was carrying a couple of small handbags, one of which she handed to me. It was made of black leather, with a geometric design embossed in red. It had clearly been chosen to go with my dress.

Once again she anticipated my question. "A girl can't go out without a purse, now can she? I've put some lipstick and tissues inside for you, plus a little bit of money -- enough to buy a round, at any rate. You can pay me back later."

She inspected me critically. "Your hair's got a bit mussed up, but I actually quite like it...Makeup's still fine. Come on then, let's go."

As she headed towards the door, however, I reached out and grabbed her arm. There was one question that couldn't wait. "Listen Mar-, um, Lucy," I said urgently, "will Zoe know? That I'm... you know?"

"That you're not quite all woman?" said Lucy, her eyes twinkling. "Maybe. She knows about me, because -- well, we've talked about it. But she'll still treat you as one of the girls. It won't matter to her, trust me."

She screwed up her attractive face into a semi-serious frown. "Thing is though, you do look pretty convincing, even if the movement's not right and your voice is at least an octave too low."

She paused, then continued. "I mean, both Martin and I are pretty good at makeup, but there's something about you that's... I don't know, let's just say it's not usually that easy to transform so quickly. Your features must be perfect for it, I guess."

She looked down at the hand that was still tightly clutching her arm. "You can hang on to me if you like, but I may need the circulation at some point."

As I quickly released her, she smiled reassuringly. "All right, let's make a move. It's a nice evening, it's not that far to the place we're meeting Zoe and we can chat as we walk -- plus check out who can see you and who can't. Are you up for another outing in those heels?"

I nodded. The bath and the sleep had soothed away the aches and pains in my legs. As I followed Lucy down the empty hallway and into the elevator, I found I was enjoying the challenge of walking in heels -- and especially the way they changed the shape of my legs. They looked so sexy in the mirror set into the side panel of the lift, so sleek and strokable in the taut black silk that clung to them.

I felt the inevitable stir in my panties and quickly looked away from the reflection, trying hard to think about anything else... but then found myself staring at Lucy's smooth and equally beautiful legs. I gulped and shifted my gaze elsewhere. I was glad when we reached the bottom and walked out into the lobby, then the street beyond.

It was quickly apparent that I was still invisible to any men on the street. But it was a different matter with the women we walked past -- or most of them at any rate. Some didn't look at me, but then they weren't looking at Lucy either. For those who did, my heart was in my mouth as I saw the initial glances, the slight shifting of eyes that revealed the passer-by had noticed me.

The knot of tension in my stomach gradually dissolved, however, as I realised that nobody was staring at me. No one was sounding the crossdresser alarm.

There were a few older women who perhaps had faintly disapproving looks on their faces. But when I asked, Lucy thought that this was just basic jealousy. We were, as she pointed out, young and good-looking -- and there were always some women for whom that would not be acceptable.

I blushed at the compliment, but a glance in any shop or office window we walked past certainly supported her summation.

As we made our way through the busy streets, Lucy quietly gave me some basic tuition in how to walk to best effect in heels. A few simple changes -- putting one heel in front of the other, not off to one side, and exaggerating the swing of my hips -- made all the difference to my gait.

Lucy also talked about her strange relationship with Martin. She was not schizophrenic, she insisted. But growing up in an all-female household, there'd been lots of opportunities to try on female clothes and makeup. More than once, Martin had been dressed up as a girl by his older sisters.

That had stopped when he reached puberty and his sisters moved out of the family home. But he'd never forgotten the enjoyment of being female, of how natural it felt -- and of how comfortable it was being one of the girls.

So periodically he transformed himself, using some of the clothes his sisters had grown out of and left at home and raiding his mother's collection of makeup. She had found out about this. But rather than the scene he had expected, she was both relaxed and supportive. She had only ever wanted daughters, and was delighted to find that her youngest child could fill that role.

And that was the start of Lucy -- the name that Martin would have been called had his chromosomes been just a little different. It was Martin who went to school and played sports and hung out with a small group of friends. But Lucy was the one who went shopping with her mum and went away on holidays.

Over time, the delineation between the two became sharper, with the female version cultivating an accent and using wigs to take on a distinctly different look. And the habit developed of referring to the other in the third person, because it was easier and avoided complications.

And now, at college, with the luxury of a two-bedroom apartment to live in, courtesy of the money their mother had made as a fashion writer, Martin and Lucy could effectively lead parallel lives. Lucy explained that they both had acquaintances who thought the two had little-seen roommates... and a few friends, like Zoe, who knew the truth.

"So," I said, frowning as I tried to process all this, "who decides who's going to be who, and when?" Lucy laughed. "We both do, silly! We are the same person, after all -- we just have two different looks and names and voices. But to be honest, a lot of it is dictated by Martin's schedule. He's around most of the time... but when it's time to relax and have fun, out I come!"

"O-kay," I said slowly, concentrating on putting my heels down carefully as we stepped off a kerb. "That explains why Martin was in the lingerie shop... But why wasn't he -- I mean, how come you weren't there?"

"Because Martin was going to go straight to college afterwards -- but you rather changed that plan. Any other burning questions?"

"Well, how does Martin deal with questions about, um, being a bit over-developed in the chest department?"

Lucy looked puzzled. "I'm sorry?" I gestured as discreetly as I could at her cleavage. "Your boobs!"

She laughed. "Oh, I don't have any boobs. All I do is squeeze my pecs together, use a bit of tape to hold them in place, then accentuate the appearance of cleavage with some clever makeup. It's amazing how well that works... Now, where is this place? Ah yes, just over there."

She started to head towards a busy bar located in the ground floor of an office tower. The large glass sliding doors had been opened to let in the warm evening air and a hubbub of noise poured into the street.

"Er, Lucy," I said, trying to keep my voice low so as not to attract attention. "Before we go in, can I ask you just one more thing?" She stopped and looked at me, half-smiling as if she knew what was coming. "Sure," she said easily, "fire away."

"Um," I said, regretting the question even as I asked it. "Are you into girls, or boys? And, er, is Martin the same?"

I blushed as her smile turned into a grin. "Does it matter?" she asked.

Without waiting for an answer, she headed towards the entrance to the bar. I scurried after her, to be met at the door by a wall of sound. The bar was packed with both well-dressed office workers and partying students, the latter an even mixture of sharp and slovenly in their attire.

Lucy looked around and then headed towards a corner of the room where, miraculously, Zoe had managed to find a booth. As we walked over we had to battle through the crowd -- or at least Lucy did.

Our progress confirmed what I'd already suspected. The woman in the bar could see me, and they certainly felt me as I squeezed past them. But I was still passing straight through the men as if they were made of smoke. I had to work hard to make it look like I was pushing past them, but I could feel no contact at all.

As we reached the booth, Zoe got up and gave Lucy a brief but affectionate hug. Then she turned the full wattage of her smile on me. "Hey Rhiannon!" she said loudly, fighting to be heard over the din of conversation around us. "Great you could make it! Come say hello to the girls!"

There were three of them, and for once the frisson that the use of my new name provoked was forgotten as I was introduced. They could not have been more different.

Eleanor was a tall and skeletal brunette, her pale, ascetic face dominated by a pair of large, horn-rimmed glasses perched on a hooked nose. Dressed all in black, she cut a severe figure, though her face softened markedly when she smiled. She was painfully thin, a result maybe of some recent illness, perhaps an eating disorder. I noticed Zoe being very attentive to her and had the impression that she might be something of a "project" for the petite blonde.

Haruka was introduced as a Japanese exchange student, though her English was at least as good as mine. She had the same jet black hair, porcelain skin and large, attractive eyes as so many of the girls I'd noticed on a trip to Tokyo the previous year. She was dressed rather strikingly in a check top, flared black skirt, fishnet tights and ankle-length boots, with a soft woollen hat perched on the back of her head.

But enchanting as she was, it was the third woman who grabbed my attention. This may have had something to do with what she was wearing -- or indeed everything. The faded denim shorts and chic white cowboy boots were attractive enough, especially set against her gleaming dark skin.