Finding Rhiannon Pt. 05

I was a few minutes early when I walked into what turned out to be a cosy little restaurant. Luckily, they had a table for two free in a back corner.

I had only just settled down when a tall young man came through the door, spotted me and headed over. He was wearing a charcoal suit,, which looked smart if not particular expensive, and an open-necked white shirt. He looked a few years younger than me, his boyish good looks set off by tousled, dark brown hair.

I recognised him right away. He was the man I'd bumped into at the bar the night before, the one who'd stopped me crashing to the floor as I ran in panic from the realisation that my voice had changed.

Nervously, I stood up as he reached the table and extended a hand. He surprised me my taking it, lifting it gently and brushing the back of it with his lips. "Hello Rhiannon," he said with an easy smile, "you're looking just as lovely as you did last night. That's quite a feat, you know."

As I felt the light kiss on my hand and the compliment washed over me, the sensation of pressure in my chest that I'd experienced earlier returned. This time it wasn't quite as severe, but nor did it recede. I had to work hard to smile back and sit myself down.

"Hi Adam," I said. "Thanks for taking my call -- and for saving me from quite a tumble last night. I'm sorry I, er, didn't stick around to express my gratitude."

"That's okay," he replied. "You seemed pretty distracted at the time and I didn't want to intrude. To be honest, I thought it was a bit of a stretch giving my card to that lovely friend of yours -- I think she might be Indian, right? But she did promise to pass it on to you."

So that's how I'd got the card -- he'd clearly given it to Emily, even if I couldn't recall her delivering it.

His brow furrowed slightly. "I don't normally leave my contact details with women who I've literally run into but never met, but in your case, I don't know, it just seemed the right thing to do..."

His expression cleared and the warm smile was back. "But I'm glad I did!"

I returned the smile. "I'm glad you did too, Adam."

As I said this the pressure in my chest went up a notch and I felt a strange tingle in my groin. To cover my confusion I suggested we look at the menu. The next few minutes were spent ordering food and, despite my recent misadventures, a bottle of red wine.

As we waited for the food to arrive we chatted amiably, not to say flirtatiously. The conversation was light and frivolous, with much banter about our respective occupations (I told him about working in HR, but didn't let on that we currently had the same employer).

His frequent compliments made me blush, but I gave as good as I got, teasing him about what I imagined to be a string of dissatisfied girlfriends.

Everything about the situation -- my clothes, the makeup, the new voice, the uncertainty of my future, talking to a stranger -- should have made me awkward and uncomfortable.

But it was somehow the exact opposite. Adam's manner put me completely at ease -- or maybe it was just the confidence that came from feeling good about how I looked. Frankly, I was enjoying being the centre of someone's attention, in a way that Ryan never had, not even with his wife.

We were halfway through our pasta before it occurred to me that I was not just enjoying the food -- it was actually sating a hunger that I hadn't even noticed returning. So that was one more step towards -- what, exactly?

At this point, I decided, I didn't actually care that much. I would worry later about my "recovery," if that's what it was. For now, all that mattered was exploring the new and more confident me.

"So," Adam was saying, "if it's not an impertinent question, does your boyfriend know about this terrible habit of having lunch with strange men?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

I giggled in response, a sound that would have been strange coming out of Ryan's mouth but, I was discovering, came very naturally to Rhiannon.

"Are you saying you're strange? Wait, let me guess, you're a lawyer with a conscience, right? But no, since you ask so clumsily, there's no boyfriend to offend. Not just now, at any rate."

I added an eyebrow waggle of my own and was rewarded with a embarrassed grin that suggested Adam wasn't quite as smooth and confident as his manner generally suggested.

"So, er, if I asked you out for dinner tomorrow night, you'd, um, consider it?"

Yep, he was definitely the nervous one now! I made a show of considering the request, head cocked on one side and musing aloud.

"Tomorrow night, huh? Let's see, my flatmate invited me to join a threesome... oh no, wait, that's Friday. So, it was just binge-watching Mr Robot or cleaning out the toilets... Hmmm, decisions, decisions."

I gave a theatrical sigh, then announced: "Oh, alright then -- as long as you're buying!" I added what I hoped was a dazzling smile.

As I was putting on this little performance, part of me was wondering why I didn't just give the obvious answer -- that I didn't go out with men, except to the pub or to watch football. And besides, I was into girls. Also, I was married.

But of course, that's what Ryan would have said. And if he were around, I wouldn't be here in the first place.

Besides, what I'd also been realising as we talked was that Adam was good looking. Very good looking.

And that wasn't just an intellectual observation. As I looked into his eyes, clear and blue like mine, I could feel a warmth in my groin. And there was a urge to reach down and rub myself. Not my quiescent cock, which was safely tucked away in my panties, but... somewhere else.

So, far from being worried, it was a sense almost of exultation that I felt as Adam said: "Great! That's excellent... Pick you up at seven, okay? Only, er, you'll need to give me your address."

I smiled, reached forward and lightly touched his hand, then said: "I can do better than that -- you can walk me back after we finish here and I'll show you where to come. Deal?"

He grinned, gave my hand a quick squeeze as if to confirm that I was real, and then made a show of returning to his food. "Deal," he said, his eyes shining.

After we had finished our inexpensive but delicious lunch, we walked companionably but largely in silence back to Martin's apartment building. For the last block or so I linked my arm in his. He looked down at me quizzically, then smiled appreciatively as we continued on our way.

When we arrived at our destination I said "Sorry Adam, I'd invite you up but my flatmate is busy studying right now. But I'll see you here tomorrow night at seven, right?"

Reaching up on tiptoes I gave him a peck on the cheek. "And thanks for a really enjoyable lunch!"

He gave me a warm smile, once again exuding the easy confidence that had temporarily evaded him back at the restaurant.

"It's a pleasure, gorgeous -- see you then."

As he strode away, he turned and blew me a kiss, which I elaborately pretended to duck underneath. Then, heart hammering for reasons that clearly had nothing to do with any physical exertion, I went inside.

As Martin let me in to the apartment, he smiled at my expression. "You look happy!"

I tried to scowl in response, but found myself grinning back instead. "Yeah, it was nice. He was nice. Adam, I mean..."

I proceeded to give Martin an edited version of what had happened, emphasising the things that had changed, such as being visible to some men at least, and my appetite returning.

I said nothing about my feelings, especially the attraction to Adam. But I did confess that I'd agreed to see him the following night and asked if it was okay to stay at Martin's (and Lucy's) place for the rest of the week.

"Sure," he said, "but you're going to have to promise me one thing." I lifted an eyebrow.

"I'm going to show you how to do your own makeup. I'm happy to have you here, and you're fun to practise on, but if you're going to carry on passing as a woman this is something you need to do for yourself, right? We can start the lessons now, if you like."

Passing over the assumption about "carrying on," I gave him a hug and agreed.

"But just let me go and change into something a bit more casual, if that's alright? Lucy does have some casual clothes, I'm assuming?"

He grinned at me. "A few. They're mostly hidden in the bottom drawer on the left of the wardrobe. Go on then."

I dropped a curtsey of thanks, which drew an even broader smile, and headed off to Lucy's room. A quick rummage in the drawer he'd indicated turned up some yoga pants and a pink tank top.

I unbuttoned the red blouse I'd worn to lunch. Although I'd been ignoring it, I could still feel that odd pressure in my chest. Perhaps, I wondered, there was something wrong with the fake boobs I'd been wearing. Maybe they had expanded, or something.

As the third and fourth buttons came open, I stared at the reflection in the mirror for a second, then yanked my incredulous gaze downwards. There was indeed something wrong with the fake boobs -- they were gone.

In their place, the cups of my brassiere were filled by two mounds of flesh -- very real, and very much attached to me...

[To be continued]