The Interview; Number 01

Shrugging my gown off into a pool of satin at my feet, I pulled off my thong and grabbed a tighter pair of knickers that would enable me to tuck my manhood underneath me. It wasn't the sexiest garment, but kept me smooth and flat at the front. Though I was a skinny little thing, I tightened a matching satin cincher around my waist, just to give me a more feminine figure and clipped a matching strapless bra behind my back.

Took me a whole day to do that. When I saw Candy do it, just like a woman would, I decided that I wasn't going to do the clips at the front and then twist the bra round any more. Just like going hands free, when the decision was made, there was no going back. Try spending a day just doing that. Next time you put a bra on, just like a woman, come tell me whether you think that day was wasted!

I had some skin glue with me as I was going to glue my falsies on for my week in Amsterdam, but decided against it now. The bra did a good enough job and I was only going to show Liz, nothing more. I grimaced at the cold silicon as I slid them into the bra cup and adjusted them carefully so as not to damage them or the bra with my nails.

Time for the dress. It was a black satin dress from Coast that reached to my mid-thigh and had a high collar and no sleeves. My upper body was a size bigger than my waist, which was always a problem with dresses. Tight top, loose bottom. As a group, we'd all decided to learn some basic tailoring and so I'd been able to bring in the waist a bit and make that tighter. That meant I could buy the size for my upper body and not worry about the skirt part.

Stepping into a dress, your silky smooth legs rubbing against the inner satin lining and then pulling it up your body is one of the greatest things in life. This is closely matched by the feel as you reach back and pull up the zip, the dress closing around you as if you've been poured into it. That tightness juxtaposed by the softness of the material is intoxicating.

I put on my wig, dark brown like my hair, and fiddled about with it in the mirror, loving the feeling of the hair brushing against my shoulders before stepping into a five inch pair of patent black court shoes with an evil heel. That moment is right up there with zipping the dress up.

Before stepping out to see Liz, I put on my rings, changed my watch and put a bracelet on my other wrist. Long earrings came next and I swayed my head slightly just to enjoy the feel of them banging against my neck.

Stockings on my legs, stepping into dress, zipping it up, putting on heels, walking in heels, hair on shoulders, earrings against neck. Don't ask me to pick which is the most awesome, coz we'll be here all night discussing the merits of each.

I take a few moments to look in the mirror and check that I'm happy. I'm suddenly nervous. There's a difference between someone knowing you're a tranny and that person seeing it. They'll tell you they're cool with it and then they see you and they're not so cool with it. Trust me on this. This is Liz though, she'll be cool. Right?

I like what I see. It's not perfect and I can point to at least ten problems but none are major and they don't all add to a major one, so I guess I'm good to go. I see my beer on the dresser and guzzle it down in a most unlady like way. A proper ladette I guess.

The dress is tight and I remember that I've only worn it for a whole night once. Second time was a dinning in date and I think I had it on for a couple hours before taking it off so it didn't get ruined like my last favourite dress. Lesson learned. Kinda. I'd bought some sexy underwear for the occasion, red satin basque with suspenders and matching thong. That got ruined instead. There's a lesson there and it's not go naked. It's don't spill a drop.

I debate a moment on how to speak and decide that Liz wants to see Jenny. Candy had done a lot of teaching with me on my voice and it didn't take more than a few sentences to get it as feminine as possible. The trick's to bypass your voice box, hard to learn, hard to do, hard to maintain. Worth the effort. I say a few things and then take a deep breath.

The bedroom leads right into the living room, all rustic charm mixed with modern stylings and Liz leaps from the sofa at the sound of my heels on the wooden floor. I stop as she turns, suddenly terrified. Liz is looking at the real me. No mask, no hidden identities. And no superhero. Just me. She stares for a while and I smooth my dress, suddenly embarrassed. She looks me up and down slowly before curling a finger, beckoning me closer.

"Come here," she says. "Out the shadows, so I can see you properly." I walk towards her and she laughs. It's not an evil, oh my God, she thinks I look stupid, run for the hills kind, but one of genuine warmth and affection. She reaches out and hugs me.

"There you are," she says. "That's what I've been missing all this time." She steps back, her smile still there. She reaches out a hand to shake mine and I reach for hers tentatively.

"I'm Liz," she says. "Pleased to meet you." I smile back.

"Jenny," I say and she arches an eyebrow at me, surprised at my voice as if she was expecting man-me to speak.

"I'm hungry," says Liz and I see the look in her eye. She ain't done with the misbehaving.

"No way," I answer. "No chance." Liz takes my hand and pulls me towards her.

"Why not?" she asks. "You look amazing and no one here knows you! It'll be fine." I shake my head.

"I don't know the area. I don't know the hot spots, safe places, attitude or vibe here. We're a long way from home if something happens." Liz holds up her phone.

"I've been Googling it. There's a few places, but it doesn't matter. Folks here are friendly and, trust me when I say, no one will know." She's persuasive is Liz and when she's got an idea in her head, it won't budge.

"I don't have a suitable coat," I say. Weak argument.

"I've got one you can borrow." Strong response.

"Then you won't have a suitable coat." Lame argument.

"I'll wear my skiing jacket." Knew she'd say that. Checkmate.

"I'm not going out with you like that. It'll draw attention to me, so get your glad rags on." Liz smiled and twirled on her heels to get dressed. It took her, like, twenty minutes and she looked stunning as she came downstairs in the same dress that I was wearing. She'd clocked that I liked it last year.

"So instead of drawing attention to me, we're drawing attention to both of us," I said, trying to sound irritated, but she looked so happy and radiant, there was no way I could be mad at her. Her heels were an inch taller than mine, which put us at roughly the same height.

While she was getting ready, I had put some money into a purse from my bag and tossed that into a handbag with some foundation and lippy, my phone and some keys. Liz tossed me her black coat, a Karen Millen one with large metal buttons and thick belt. It fit perfectly and I loved how it hugged my figure.

"Gonna get one yourself Jenny?" smirked Liz and I shrugged as I looked in the mirror.

"It's a lovely coat," I replied and Liz nods her agreement.

"It looks fab on you. Keep it." I protest, but she has none of it. It's her way of showing acceptance and I felt a deep wave of emotion at her display.

"Don't cry on me," she says. "I'll have none of that nonsense."

So us two girls hit Zermatt. Normally, I pause at the door and gather myself, a habit from when I was petrified of going out, when I was read every time by everyone and I needed courage to say fuck it and fuck you. I still get nervous; in a way, you're stepping outside naked, showing the world who you truly are and knowing that the world, as a rule, doesn't accept your truth. Liz notices, but says nothing. No need.

It's cold outside, a bitter wind tugging at our clothes. I love the feel of the coolness on my stockings as I walk at night, but Zermatt is too damn cold, so I bend my head and we scurry to the nearest bar, not caring whether it's tranny friendly or not.

Find out when we get there I guess.

Zermatt is the highest Ski resort in Europe, Matterhorn peak towering over us. It's a beautiful place with rustic, narrow streets all linking to the main street, Bahnofstrasse. We're near the top of it, so hop into the nearest bar. The street is full of them, so if we don't like this one, we'll move to the next and so on.

This one is full, a band playing in the corner and a welcoming warmth and vibe. We get a few looks as we enter, but nothing I need worry about, so Liz points to a booth for me to occupy while she gets some alcohol. Comes back with a bottle of champagne.

"Time to celebrate!" she says. I raise an eyebrow.

"Celebrate what?"

"A new friend was born today and I like her much more than the old one. He was a pompous arse." She grins and pours a healthy glass.

"Cheers." She gulps her drink with a satisfied noise and pours another.

We drink and laugh and joke and enjoy. She's easy company and tonight, she's even easier. More relaxed. Not that she wasn't before, but it feels different. I like it.

Several hours and several bottles of champagne later, I'm panicking as we go back to our house. Sven is oblivious and about as drunk as we are. I shoot Liz a panicked look.

He doesn't know I'm a man! it says. Liz replies with her own look.

It'll be fine. He's too pissed to know. Another look.

This is a bad idea!

Liz takes Sven's hand and leads him to my bedroom. He's tall and broad shouldered and I could feel the strength in his arms as I had looped mine through his on the way home. He'd approached us after our second bottle and we chatted happily enough.

How we got from there to here, I don't know, but I do know Liz played a role in it. She might be gay, but this looked like too much fun for her to pass up. I follow them in, alcohol and nerves making my heart beat loud and fast. Liz has Sven on the bed and is straddling him, dress pulled up, stockinged legs wrapped around his muscular thighs.

As I enter, she pulls from him and walks to me, a sultry look in her eye. We kiss, lipstick mingling and I feel her undo the belt of my coat and slip the buttons from their eyelets. She pulls me close and our matching dresses whisper softly as the shimmering material slides over each other. Sven watches, a drunken smile on his face.

I feel my cock start to stir and am glad it's held tight by my underwear. Sven stands up and steps behind me, lifting my hair and kissing my neck. I panic that he'll notice it's a wig, but he's either too drunk or doesn't care.

Liz turns slightly and backs off, holding my hand and leading me to the bed as she lays back on it, pushing herself up to rest on the pillows.

Liz pulls her dress up, kicks off her underwear and tosses it sexily to the side, long, blonde hair splayed artfully on the bed.

So this is the moment I should be saying no right? It's Liz. We've been friends for a long time and she's gay and I'm, whatever. Thing is, we're both very drunk and it doesn't feel weird. I lean down and feel Sven hardening in his trousers, his cock straining as it pushes against my arse. Liz winks and leans over to address Sven.

"Sven, honey. Jenny here is, well, it's that time of the month. You understand?" He looks upset. "So it's anal only. That ok with you?" He looks a lot less upset. It'll make a great story to tell his friends.

"Sure," he says, his Slavic accent thick and slurred. I giggle and pull my underwear down, careful to face away from Sven, leaning on the bed so he doesn't see my rapidly hardening cock. Liz looks down and grins. I'm no longer panicking. I'm trying not to laugh as Liz reaches down and pulls some lube from my bag. She must have seen it when she was after my charger.

So Liz lies back and guides my head down to her pussy. It's already moist and I kiss it tenderly and stroke her legs as she wraps them around my upper body, the stockings rubbing against my satin dress. The skirt part is tight, but Sven manages to pull it over my arse as I start to toy with Liz's G-Spot with my tongue, finding the nub and rubbing over it with the tip of my tongue in a gentle teasing manner. She groans and squeezes me tight as I feel Sven start to push his way in.

Hands grab my waist and he pushes in deeper and deeper as I kneel on the edge of the bed. I can feel him inside and he's huge. I look at Liz and my eyes widen as he keeps pushing in, but her eyes are closed, loving the feel of me as I pleasure her, groaning softly, arching her back with every stroke, tease and lap.

Finally, Sven is all in and I feel his balls slap against my leg. I push back, groaning as he starts to thrust, harder and harder, faster and faster. His hands reach round and I quickly slap them away before he can find my erect cock, forcing them back to my waist. Far as he's concerned, he's shagging some girl while she pleasures another. Or maybe he does know and doesn't care.

Either way, I'm loving every second. He's big and strong and gripping me so hard, I'm strapped in for the ride. Lis starts to buck, groaning loudly now as she starts to climax. I can taste and smell her womanhood and it's intoxicating. Sven is grunting now and starts to pick up his rhythm, impaling me on his manhood harder and faster. I feel myself start to cum, all those sessions perfecting the hands free method paying off.

I'm not so drunk I forget to control my voice as I start to climax. I can feel my legs start to judder, the orgasm flowing through me as Sven's enormous cock tickles my own G-spot. The feel of my cincher, stockings, court shoes, dress and the taste of Liz heighten the experience and I cum repeatedly, hidden by my own body as Sven starts to fill me with his seed. I'm like a wild stallion, bucking and writhing under Sven as I orgasm, but he holds me firm as he pushes even deeper than before, a tight squeeze and he's done.

I'm still going. Told you; anal hands free versus quick jerking off? No contest. He stays in me, long as it takes until my deep and ragged breathing slows. Then he pulls out and I feel his come dribble down my leg in a great stream. Christ, there's a lot of it.

Liz has calmed her breathing and gives me a wink, her cheeks flushed.

"Sven, that was amazing," she says. He mumbles a reply, still panting, still drunk. He makes to lie down next to Liz, I'm still bent over, showing my leaking arse and hiding my erect cock, feeling a rising wave of panic that I'll now be caught.

"Be a dear," says Liz. "Pull the door tight on your way out, it jams a little."

"Oh, er. Of course," he says, accent thick and slurred and gathers his things. Liz gives a wave as he leaves and I look over my shoulder, still exposed, and wave him goodbye.

"Night," I say weakly and he closes the door, Liz laughing loudly when he's gone.

"Now that," she declares. "Was something else!"

I lie next to her, pulling some knickers on to catch any more cum and laugh with her.

"That was something stupid," I say. "What if he'd found out?" Liz shrugs.

"If's and but's. He's gone and all three of us are satisfied." I think we spoke some more. Maybe we did, but I remember none of it. Sleep ambushed us and we lay like that until the morning.

Waking up was surreal. Liz is next to me, stockings and shoes on, nothing else. I'm wearing my favourite dress and it's creased as hell. The sheets are sticky and there's dried cum over my stockings and I can feel it in my knickers too. I used to feel ashamed when I woke up like that, but I don't anymore. There's nothing to be ashamed of.

I shower and take my time. Still a bit hung over, hoping that it won't be awkward with Liz. I get out of the shower and wrap the towel under my armpits, step into the bedroom. Liz has gone and tidied up after her. She's left some skinny jeans and thick jumper dress on the bed. The jeans are mine, the jumper dress hers. I packed for a warmer, less top of the mountain climate.

"Your man clothes are in Amsterdam," comes a voice behind me and I jump as Liz slips past, gliding into the bedroom. She's showered, dressed and I hate her. There's no trace of hangover and she looks stunning in her skiing outfit. She hands me some coffee.

"We cool," she asks. I hug her.

"Course we are."

"You make a sexy as hell woman but that's still a dick between your legs," she says.

"Stop trying to explain," I shoot back. "Jenny prefers a dick in her partners. Sexy tranny or straight up male, doesn't matter.

"That's settled then," she says. "Get dressed." I gulp. I've been out plenty in London or Brighton or Manchester Village, but I was here on a skiing holiday.

"Was hoping you'd go out and get me some man stuff to wear." She gives me a puzzled look.

"I can do that for you Jenny, but I think you'd look a bit strange trying to pass yourself off as a man."

"Please." I say and she relents, holds out a hand.

"Card." I rummage in my handbag and fish out my card. She knows the pin.

"I'll be back in an hour. You can make breakfast. If we're spending a day on the slopes, I want the works. Bacon, sausages, beans, eggs, mushrooms, tomatoes, hash browns, French bread, croissant and coffee. Lots of coffee."

Sugar Daddy's packed the fridge for us and I set to work. He may be a Sugar Daddy, but he's under the thumb. Before I cook, I moisturise and slip into a negligee and my satin gown. I loved lazy mornings like that, cook some breakfast, watch something I've recorded on TV, read the news or play on the Xbox. My second favourite time of day. First? Night time, of course.

Liz is back in less than an hour and I lay the food on the table as we chat and laugh about the night before. She's left all the bags at the door and I eye them wearily.

"How much did you spend?" I ask. Liz shrugs.

"Your bonus probably. I bought a couple of things from me for you too."

"You shouldn't have," I say and she smiles.

"Bought me couple of things too, balance things out."

After breakfast, Liz picks up the bags and nods for me to head to the bedroom. She dumps the bags on the bed and pulls out a skiing outfit. It's expensively tailored and black with purple flowers curling up the legs and onto the back. I feel a stab of envy at the thought of Liz being able to wear that on the slopes today.

"Hang on," I say as Liz gets out more feminine ski wear. "This is for me isn't it?" Liz smiles as she gets out a fur head wrap and matching gloves.

"We agreed that you didn't have any suitable clothes for skiing in. Now you do."

"I hate you."

"You love me. Now quit whining and sit." She clicks her fingers and I find myself obeying. She always gets her way. I sit at the dresser and she pulls up a chair to face me.

"You mind?" I shrug.

"I'm all yours." She rubs her hands in glee and empties my make-up bag on the table top, grabs the tweezers and makes a bee line for my eyebrows. I lean back.

"Can't touch them! It's taken me ages to get the balance right!" Liz grabs my gown and pulls me towards her.

"You're off for two weeks, just tell people it was a charity thing." She always gets her way. Face a mask of concentration, tongue sticking out ever so slightly, she plucks and pulls, uses her fingers like she was using a smart phone to enlarge an image to tighten the skin as she teases hairs out. I've given up by this point. I'll deal with it when I get back, I tell myself. I start enjoying the attention.

She doesn't tidy the edges or make them slightly more feminine, she goes full female. Thin, arched and meticulous, they look amazing. And completely female. Sitting there without make up or a wig, I realise I won't be able to pass these off at work.

Bollocks.

Liz isn't done either. Starts to put on my make-up, chatting away and showing me some new tricks and ideas. Goes to her room and comes back with some of her stuff. More tricks and tips. If a woman ever gives you time and advice, take it. Soak up every word. After my lessons all those years ago, I would go back and write them down, make a list of how to do what and in what order. Liz teaches me more and I know I'll be putting them into my notes App later.