Poppy

We met online. I didn't know much about her at first, just her name and what she didn't like. I knew about that because of all the time wasters that sent her cock pics. She was transitioning, but people didn't treat her like a girl. She was just a name on a screen to wank at. A vessel. She liked that we'd stopped talking about sex a few weeks ago, now it was just everything else.

Still, it was a sex forum. Our likes did overlap. Maybe something would happen, maybe not, it wasn't about that. She wanted to be a girl. Wanted to be feminine. Wanted the romance that she'd never had. I got that. Who didn't crave affection?

She sent me an intimate picture once, her pretty little cock wrapped up in a pink silk bow. She didn't want to be humiliated, or used. But she wanted me to know what she was, what she needed to be.

I didn't send her a picture of my cock back, I just told her how beautiful she was.

"So," she wrote, "if we went on a date, how would it go?"

I told her about meeting her, kissing her cheek, holding her hand as we went for a walk.

"Wouldn't you be worried, if people saw us?"

"No," I said, "I'd be showing you off."

I said I'd take her to dinner. We'd talk some more. More importantly I'd get to know her more. Then we would do what she wanted. I could walk her to her hotel, kiss her on the cheek and say goodnight.

"What if I wanted you to come inside?"

"I'd love to."

"So you can fuck me?"

"If that's what you wanted. I'd like to make love to you. Slowly." I typed nervously. "I would kiss every inch of you, find every sweet spot that made you hum in happiness. I would worship you and make you feel like the most loved woman on earth."

I hoped it wasn't too strong. But I meant it. It's funny how over the top things can sound when you're earnest. She paused, then replied. "I'd like to meet you. I'm just scared. So many guys don't treat people like me well. I've had more bad experiences than good ones. By far."

"Give me a try. Please."

It was a week later when we met outside the station. She immediately caught my breath. Everything about her was so feminine, so soft. Shoulder length blonde hair. Green dress, tight enough to be curvy, but far from revealing anything. Her soft lips. She looked nervous, so I smiled.

I had the impression people had made her feel like an imitation of a woman. A freak. I wanted to put her at ease at once. We embraced lightly, exchanging pleasantries. I kissed her cheek. "You look lovely," I said it gently. Nothing carnal, nothing flirty. Just an observation that one friend might make to another.

The smile she gave back to me was adorably awkward. She wanted to be flattered, but her guard was still up.

"Is it Poppy?" I asked, careful to respect what name she wanted to go by. I knew it was sensitive for her. She'd called it the biggest, most personal piece of becoming a puzzle.

"Yes. Thanks. Still Joe, right?"

I had gone by Captain Cock on the forum, God knows why, but I had told her my real name early on. "That's me. Got demoted."

She laughed. I offered her my hand and she took it.

"It's a pleasure to meet you at last," I told her.

Her smile stayed on her face as we walked to the row of cabs. I noticed her tense as we got inside. Always she seemed guarded. What if the driver noticed something? Laughed? Got angry?

He was more likely to be jealous than anything else. She looked impeccable. But I could understand her concern. It can't have been easy.

We drove to the restaurant, talking idly about little things. The train. The weather. The news. We were skirting around anything personal until we were alone.

One thing I couldn't help but notice, she was wearing bright pink stockings. They stood out a little with the darker dress, and I wondered about the choice. She caught me looking and smiled, a little impishly. It wasn't until we were walking into the restaurant that I remembered one of our early exchanges. How I had first found a picture of her online, posing with those stockings. Her lithe smooth body poured into electric pink socks. She'd been posting on a fetish forum, looking for friends as much as validation. My first comment to her, privately, was about her pink stockings. How I would have liked to run my hands up them. Not the most romantic beginning, but lust often precedes deeper things. I winced a little, but then I realised she had worn them playfully, perhaps flirtatiously. When she next looked at me I grinned. We sat and were alone. "Nice stockings," I said.

"You remember them?"

"How could I forget?" I tried to remember exactly those early conversations. They had been more erotic. I had talked about her skin, her clothes, not her.

"You had a bit of a kink," she was smiling, mischievously.

I smiled awkwardly. "You looked as good then as you do now."

She pulled a face, but laughed. Her voice was soft. We had talked over the phone a couple of times, but I only saw now how her face lit up when she laughed. My trousers began to feel a little tight, and I shifted uneasily in my seat. God. I had never been with someone like her. She excited me so much. I had to temper those thoughts though. She was more than some fantasy. She had become my friend. Hopefully she might be more. If not, well, I had still found an astounding person to know.

A waiter brought us wine and we ordered food. The people around us passed in a blur. I saw Poppy looking around, as if anxious to find that someone was staring at her. I couldn't tell, I was only looking at her.

"It's ok," I said, soft enough that only she could hear. Her head whipped around to me, she seemed embarrassed. "No one's looking. Except me. And if they were, you're just a hot girl rocking a nice dress dining with a guy who's punching up. If anything they'd be staring at me."

She seemed to fully relax for the first time, I saw a change in how she was holding herself, as if there was something permanently defensive. "Sorry. And don't do that. Joke about yourself. You're not bad."

"Oh really?"

I felt her leg brush mine under the table- My mouth hung open for a second, and I gave her a big smile.

Our food came, and we ate. Conversation flowed well, easily. We were still talking about inane things, but we were so relaxed with each other that it felt different. If felt like we were sharing things. Probing how each other was feeling. Her leg continued to brush lightly against mine, and I got hard before I could control it. I saw her smile as she saw me shifting.

"Alright?"

"Leg's gone stiff." If I was trying to flirt, I sucked.

She smiled hugely. "Sure it's your leg?"

I laughed. "Um. Let's just say it is."

She sipped at her glass of wine. Her leg was back, rubbing a little higher now. Her eyes were light blue. "You're cute when you squirm." Her voice had a little catch in it. Was I turning her on?

"Higher." The word took me by surprise, even as I said it. I was staring at those turquoise eyes, her leg was brushing me, for a moment I was lost to the little drama under the table. It was far too forward, far too soon. I had ruined every-

But then her leg went higher. She must have slipped her shoe off. I saw her angle herself a little in her seat. She looked around to make sure no one was looking, and then-

I looked down. Bright pink stockinged toes gently nudged between my legs. She pushed, wriggled. Just for a moment...

Bliss. Absolute bliss.

The contact, as brief as it was divine, ended, and the foot disappeared. Poppy straightened in her chair and looked around sheepishly.

No one was looking our way. It wasn't that busy. The staff were elsewhere. She had found the perfect moment. And so had I. No matter what happened I would replay that sensation, that intimacy, everytime I closed my eyes.

"Wow." I said.

"You sound like a teenager." She was smiling slightly, but I think she had embarrassed herself a little. Her hand had gone up to her mouth. "I can't believe I did that."

I took a deep breath- I needed it. "Well I'm happy you did, if that's worth anything."

She looked at me again and then smiled more broadly. "We seem to have an effect on each other."

"I certainly hope so."

We talked about more personal things, then. The little things had been sent away, like children sent to bed so the parents could talk. Now we talked about her life, her troubles. The transitioning, the doubts. We talked about my bisexual and gay feelings that had never had a release. My ensuing loneliness.

She felt she was born in a body that didn't exactly fit. As if the manual had gone missing and she couldn't tell if she was missing a part. I told her I'd often felt like an outsider, surrounded by people I couldn't share any thoughts with. Always watching, waiting for something that had never arrived.

She nodded at that. We looked at a young couple dining across from us. They were laughing about something, then she started taking pictures of their food.

"They take it for granted, being normal." She sounded sad.

I tried to cut straight through that. "Nobodies normal. But people who think they are get on happily enough." I held up my glass. "To knowing yourself, and finding people to know."

She hesitated for a second, as if still listening to the words after I'd said them, then she lifted her glass. They clinked together and we drank.

She put her glass down. "Have you, ever, you know?"

"What?"

"Done something like this? Someone like me?" She actually blushed.

My hard on had gone from between my legs to somewhere in my chest. A difficult thought to unravel, but a pleasing one. "No," I admitted. "Girls, over the years. Even a guy when I was younger- but that was awkward as fuck, as you can imagine."

She nodded.

"But no, there has never been anyone like you. I don't think there is anyone like you."

Her head tilted. I waited for a smile, but she just looked at me. I think her eyes were smiling instead. Whatever was happening, it was incredibly pretty.

I felt a bit self-conscious for some reason. "I hope I haven't rambled," I said, rambling.

"No." She tucked some hair behind her ear, and rested her chin on her hand while she looked at me. "You listened, and then I listened. That's how good things start. Don't you think?"

I swallowed. "I like to think so."

A waiter came and asked us if we wanted any more wine, we must have been talking for hours.

"No, thanks. We were just-" I glanced at Poppy. "Shall we go?"

"Sure."

She got up, and I helped her put her coat on. Black, soft wool. She had a pin of a butterfly on one lapel. We stepped outside and it was dark. The night was cool and soft against my face. "Do you have a room, or were you going back tonight?"

She stood next to me, her fingers were lightly brushing mine. "I was sort of going to feel the night out. I don't know."

"Oh?"

She looked down, her lovely hair obscuring her face. "You seemed so nice. And I've been lonely-" She broke off and looked up at me. "It's nice to feel seen. You know what I mean, don't you."

I nodded. It wasn't a question. "Of course. I hope I didn't disappoint you."

"No." Her hand took mine. "This has been really nice. Now I have to go home and-" She cut herself off. "I'm on guard all the time. I hate it. It takes so much out of you, being alone."

I brought her hand up to my lips and lightly kissed her fingers. "We're not alone though."

She looked very nervous, then. I could tell she wanted to trust me. Needed to. But this was too far and far too fast. She moved her hand away. "Yes. Thank you. But." Her words were scattered, like I imagined her thoughts were. She took a deep breath. "Let's not ruin it."

I frowned. "You think we'll ruin this by following it through?"

That was a loaded question. She kept her eyes to the ground, thinking. I wasn't talking about sex. There was so much more going on here. Vulnerability. Hope. Trust. Need. Desire.

She looked up at me and sighed. "This is often where a good thing falls apart, yeah."

I looked pained. "I'm so sorry. You mean you get talking, like them, and then they just want to jump you?"

"Pretty much."

I wanted to take her hand, but gave her space. "Poppy, I think you're pretty, funny, wonderful to talk to- I could listen to you all day. I absolutely don't want to ruin this. However." I paused for a second. "If we took this further, you would not be a fantasy to me. A box to be ticked off. You would be the most amazing thing that had happened to me. I would adore you. I would make you feel-" I hesitated. "Loved."

A train of emotions crossed her face. She was startled. Wary. Happy. Confused.

"I'm sorry," I said. "That was a big word to throw out there. But my point is it wouldn't just be sex. It would be slow. Loving. Safe." That seemed an obvious word to me, but I could tell the men before me had never thought to use it.

She pulled her coat closer. We were still just standing outside the restaurant. "So what would you do? To me?" Her voice seemed incredibly small. She was only a little shorter than me, but she was definitely slighter. Fear and yearning seemed to be poised on a knife edge. It must have felt so awful. I felt suddenly aware of how much it meant for her to truly trust someone with her body.

"I would like to take you home. We could have another glass of wine. And if you like, we could go to my room. And if you like, we could just lay there, and talk. Maybe kiss. I want to be close to you. But I want you to want it. I want you to give that to me. To trust me so much that we can share something beautiful."

I meant every word. I ached for her, it was true, I felt we had made such a connection, not just tonight, but over the months and months of talking. To feel that we would both go home alone was depressing.

As if we were doomed.

I understood though. Perhaps if this was ever to become anything, it would only happen over time. She was still thinking. "Look, it's ok," I said. "The last thing I want to do is rush anything. To rush you, let's just-"

She stepped closer to me. "Kiss me."

My heart skipped. "What?"

"Just kiss me. I want to know something."

"What do you want to know?"

"Just kiss me. Take your time. It's ok."

Suddenly I felt insanely nervous. She was so close to me. Her perfume was light and fresh. I cupped her face in my hand. "Is that ok?" I asked. She nodded. I stroked her face, it was so smooth. I gently brought my face to hers and kissed her. Her mouth opened for me. Her lips were soft and warm. There was a light trace of white wine. I closed my eyes. I kept one hand gently to her face, and put another around her waist. I held her while we kissed. I wasn't the best kisser in the world, and it had been a while, but I gave it everything. To me it felt wonderful. Her tongue stroked mine, and I felt them brush together. My hand moved from her face to stroke her long hair. It might as well have been satin, for how luxurious it felt. I held the moment for as long as I dared, and then gently stood back. "Ok?" I asked, uncertain.

"Not bad," she was smiling slightly.

"It's- it's been a while." I tried not to say it, but if it had been bad I felt I had to explain why. I hope it hadn't been.

Her head tilted as she studied me. "You're nervous."

"Of course I am. You're beautiful."

She shook her head. "I'm alright. You really like me, though"

I nodded.

"You weren't even hard."

I felt embarrassed. Wasn't I? I was excited, happy- but no, I suppose I was thinking more about trying to please her. "I was trying to get it right."

She smiled.

I gave my trousers a light touch. "So, you checked me out?"

"Sorry. But I think I know what you want."

"And?"

"And I trust you not to take it." She stepped closer and kissed me again. This time I felt her stroke my cock. She pulled back and smiled. I must have looked astonished. "Please. Take me home, Joe."

We held hands in the cab. We couldn't snuggle because of the seatbelts. We couldn't talk because the cabbie wouldn't stop talking. We exchanged smiles. Touches. I stroked the back of her hand, and then her fingers stroked my palm tenderly. I glanced at her, and she was looking at me curiously. She bit her knuckle, as if she was thinking about something naughty. I pressed a button and lowered the window to let some air in. She laughed.

Our love language was silent. But it always had been.

The journey to my flat simultaneously passed in a blur and yet was a fever of anticipation. All the way I was wondering what might happen. Insecurities flooded over me, but I pushed them down. I wanted to make her feel so good. So happy. I wanted to kiss every inch of her. Not once did I imagine her touching me. I wanted to make this a great night for her. I wanted to make her laugh and smile, but in new delightful ways...

I paid the fare, then took Poppy by the hand and led her across the street to my flat. We paused at the door and I studied her. "Are you sure?"

She nodded. She had made her mind up. She wanted to believe this could be something good, she needed it as much as I did. She had given herself fully to this happening. I was so nervous I dropped my keys. I picked them up and swore. She took my head in her hands. "It's okay. Slow down."

I took a deep breath and nodded. I smiled and let us in. We went up some stairs to my flat, and I turned on the lights as I opened the door. It wasn't a big space, perfect for one. She put her coat over a chair and looked around. "This is nice."

I went to the kitchen and poured us two glasses of wine. I found her on the sofa and sat next to her. She sipped the drink then put it on a coffee table before us. I did the same.

"Well. Here we are." She looked at me, and I saw she was just as nervous as I was.

"Can I kiss you again?" I wanted to ask that, rather than dive on her. I wanted to make sure everything happened because she let it. She nodded.

The sofa creased as I leaned towards her, we smiled at the sound. This was somehow awkward, and yet perfect in its simplicity. It felt natural. Her face met mine, and we were kissing again. I stroked her face, her hair, as lightly as I could. We would pause to get our breath, and then continue kissing, all while our faces never left each other. I had never known a kiss last so long. It was so lovely. So lovely.

Her hand went down to my legs and rubbed up my thigh. I groaned. Her hand was in my hair, and she pushed herself against me. I felt the softness of her breasts. I held one, squeezing it, and she moaned into my mouth. In one fluid movement she moved herself so that she was sitting on my lap. She looked down at me, ruffling my hair. I swallowed hard.

She rubbed against me, her crotch slowly- so dear God slowly- against mine. I opened my mouth. I didn't gasp or speak, I was just held in a moment of shocked joy.

"Is that nice?" Her voice was a little hoarse.

I nodded, stupidly. She smiled and then she kissed me again. Now my hands went up her back, stroking it. They went down to cup her firm buttocks. She squirmed. Her dress was too tight. She pulled it up so that the material was around her waist, then kissed me more. I put my arms around her waist and just held her.

If kissing her could last forever, nothing would ever matter again.

Yet there was more to kiss. My lips travelled to her cheek, her neck, I searched for her shoulder and nuzzled it. She breathed hard against my ear. She rubbed against me, and my cock was getting harder and harder. Oh God it felt so good. How the hell would I be able to take much more of this? My mind was spinning. I reached for the shoulder straps of her dress, and was about to tug when I looked up at her. Her eyes were on mine. I took a long deep breath. "Is it okay?"

"What if I say it isn't?"

I gave her shoulder a light kiss, then leaned back. "That's fine. So long as you're okay."