Trust Ch. 07

"I officially declare that you are now a true woman," she smiled. "Don't worry now about what's in there. If you need it, I promise you it'll be in there somewhere."

"Thanks for everything, Sis'," I smiled as I gave her a sisterly hug and kiss on her cheek.

"Come on then," she beamed as she linked arms with me. "Let's go out and find a couple of guys to ruin for any other girl."

I felt a huge thrill rippling all through me as we walked out through our front door and out into the street and for a few moments I thought my chest would be unable to contain the deep pulse of my heart and the swell of my lungs in my excitement as for the first time I presented myself as a woman to the outside world. Arm in arm, we stepped together like a pair of graceful black flamingos with our legs in our black tights looking long and elegant under our tutu skirts, accompanied by the soft slapping rhythm of our black plimsolls making their rubbery footfall on the pavement. Although the evening was mild there was a slightly nippy breeze in the air which made me wish we were wearing jackets over our thin black lycra leotards.

"Don't be so wussy," she cajoled. "It's more fun and companionable if we have to huddle together for warmth," and I had to agree with her as I felt through my leotard her vibrant warmth pushing up closer to me. I had about fifteen minutes to practice my girl talk and my girl walk as we headed to the wine bar, turning lots of heads and attracting quite a few wolf whistles and shouts of "Covent Garden's the other way, girls!" or "The lap dancing club's the other way, girls" from the more aesthetically challenged elements of the male population." It felt wonderful to stride along with Emma, smiling and chatting and singing and giggling away together in shared feminine bravado and pleasure at the attention upon us. We were merry enough not to need a drink when we arrived at our destination, although we weren't going to let that stop us.

"Covent Garden's down the road, ladies," quipped the young and very good looking Australian barman whose eye we instantly caught as we came in.

"They won't have us anymore because we're so good, Darcey was getting jealous," Emma grinned."

"So we thought you'd have more appreciation for our talents," I added, getting into flirty female mode straight away."

"You're very welcome to be tonight's floorshow. It'll be nice to give the punters something with a bit of culture for a change," he laughed. "What'll you have ladies?"

"A large glass of Australian shiraz in your honour," smiled Emma.

"And the same for me please," I chimed in, remembering just in time to choose wine rather than beer.

"Can we get those for you, ladies?" a rich mellow American voice exclaimed next to us. We turned to see a couple of tall, well built, handsome and very self-assured looking American men standing next to us and smiling appreciatively at us. They were both casually but neatly dressed in open necked shirts and jeans. The taller of the two wore a plain white shirt and expensive brown loafers, the shorter wore a black and grey striped shirt with Nike trainers.

"Thanks, that's really nice of you," I smiled to them, deciding it would be good if I sometimes took the lead rather than rely on Emma to make all the running. I hoped my smile was convincing and I was encouraged to see them respond with clear enthusiasm.

"Cheers, God bless America," she added with a beaming smile as she raised her glass.

"Would you ladies like to sit with us a while?" asked the taller man, indicating a table that had just been vacated.

"We'd love to," she smiled. "We love doing our bit for the Special Relationship don't we Charlotte?" She nudged my arm as she grinned at me for corroboration.

"And we've got our own supply of nylons too," I nudged her back as I beamed a coquettish smile at our new friends.

"I guess that means we can finally wrap up the Marshall Plan," he smiled back and we all laughed as we took our places around the table. There was no difficulty in deciding on pairing up as we instinctively aligned ourselves according to height. Wes, who was the shorter and stockier of the two, was a natural complement to Emma's womanly curves while Bill, taller and leaner but still very attractively proportioned was only a little taller than I. As we sat down next to each other, with Bill on my right and Emma on my left, I was immediately struck by his open, attentive manner and his kind, expressive eyes.

"You must be celebrating something special to be dolled up like that," he opened with.

"Yes, it's our last evening before we go on a round the world trip. We're going for six months," I said, working to the scenario that Emma and I had worked out during the afternoon. We're starting in Europe, going down to South Africa, then across to India and Thailand, then to Australia and New Zealand, then we'll do America and then it's back home again." Having done the woman's part of getting the conversation going I now encouraged him to join in, "I expect you've already done lots of travelling."

"Yeah, I like to travel, especially in the Far East: Japan, China, Indonesia; places like that. I travel a lot with my job, too. Wes and I are both here pitching for a contract for airport navigation systems."

"Pinching British jobs then," I teased. "Sorry, I wasn't meaning to be rude. That sounds really interesting." I wanted to have a bit of fun with him but at the same time not make him defensive.

"No offence taken," he smiled. "We subcontract a lot over here so the argument kind of goes both ways. What do you do, Charlotte?"

I found myself warming to his easy manner and his confident air of assurance and of having no need to prove himself. "I work in financial services," I replied, already enjoying his obvious and genuine interest and affirmation, "specialising in tax and investment solutions for companies and high net worth individuals. We've got a lot of American clients," I added, enjoying finding new ways to build bridges to this attractive man.

"I guess that makes us even then," he smiled. "Would you like another drink?" he added.

"Let us get these," I offered. He graciously accepted and I handed him a twenty pound note for the four of us from a purse I discovered in my handbag. I winked discreetly at Emma and she nudged my leg with her plimsoll under the table in response while she shared another joke with Wes, who was joviality personified and enjoyed telling long stories about his talent for getting himself into embarrassing situations. I flitted on the edge of their conversation and was pleased when Bill returned with a tray of beers and fresh glasses of wine, so we could resume our conversation.

"I've always wanted to go on a date with a ballerina," he smiled, eyeing me up and down appreciatively.

I was enjoying his gaze and I found myself resting one hand lightly on my neck while I rubbed the stem of my glass with the other. Emma had told me that they were classic gestures that a woman makes when she's aware that a man is attracted to her. I gave him a long spreading smile and looked long into his eyes.

"I did ballet when I was a girl and had the usual little girl dreams of being a ballerina. But that was a long time ago. We just wanted to dress up and be a bit whacky on our last night before we go away. It's a really special trip for me because a few months ago I had to have a double mastectomy and it's only now that I'm really starting to get over it." I dropped my eyes slightly and my smile diminished a little.

"Hey, I would never have guessed if you hadn't said." His hand moved a little closer to mine. "You look like you've got a pretty fine figure under there."

"You wouldn't think so if you could see what's inside here," I said, looking down at my artificial assets. For a moment I thought about longing to have real breasts whenever I dressed as a plimsoll girl or as a ballerina and experience the pleasure of cupping them warm and soft in my hands and see them snuggled together in a bra or a bikini or a low topped leotard. Then I thought about how it must feel for a woman not only to have to lose them along with that pleasure and that deep symbol of her womanhood, but to actually have to choose to lose them or die. Bill, seeing my faraway look, spoke more softly and gently now.

"How did it happen?"

"I was always very careful about checking my breasts because I knew there was breast cancer in my family. I was always afraid I'd find something one day and when I finally felt a lump I was sure I was going to die. Fortunately it turned out to be benign but my consultant advised me that, because there was so much breast cancer in my family, I was very high risk and I ought to consider having mine off. I couldn't bring myself to do it at first but then my cousin died when she was only thirty-eight and then I knew I had no choice."

He looked at me with kindness and with complete sincerity he said, "I know it may sound like a cliché to you and I realise you may still not be at the stage where saying it would be helpful to you, but I truly believe that what makes a woman really beautiful is what's inside her, not what you can see on the outside."

I looked up at him again. "Yes, it does help actually, a lot. Thank you." I smiled warmly to him. If I had really been a woman I would certainly be falling for him by now, I realised. I was starting to feel bad about leading on such a decent and considerate man. OK, as far as he knew he could only enjoy my company for this one evening, but I was still regretting the deception I was committing on him. I started to feel tense and I curled my toes involuntarily inside my black plimsolls in my growing anxiety.

"Are you feeling OK?" he asked, beginning to look concerned.

"Don't worry, I'm alright," I smiled reassuringly. "Do you mind if I spend a few minutes powdering my nose?"

I headed for the toilet but in my slightly confused and preoccupied state I forgot to aim for the Ladies.

"Ladies other side, Miss," smiled one of the bar staff clearing up empty glasses to me as I meandered by him on the way to the Gents.

"Thank you," I recovered and flashed a ditzy smile to Emma who was signalling anxiously to me while trying to make it all look like a big joke. As I entered the Ladies' Room I was unnerved for a second by the absence of the reassuring sight of a row of urinals along the wall and I quickly secreted myself in one of the cubicles. I pulled down the toilet seat cover and sat on it and took a deep breath as I tried to get my thoughts in order. Just then I heard someone rush into the room and dash into the cubicle next to mine. The door was slammed and locked shut and then I heard a confused fumble of a skirt being lifted and panties being pulled down, a bottom plonked down on the toilet seat and frantic rummaging in a hand bag followed by a sudden vehement whispered expletive of "Oh Shit!"

"Are you OK?" I asked my neighbour in a spirit of sisterly concern.

"You haven't got a spare towel have you?" came a young woman's voice with a slight estuary twang.

I looked around the cubicle to ascertain that there wasn't any towel in it at all let alone a spare one. "Sorry?" I asked her in the hope of clarification.

"My sodding period's started a day early and would you believe it just had to happen on the one day when I forgot to check my bag for spare towels. Have you got a spare one or can you get one for me from the dispenser?"

"I think I've got a spare in my bag," I said, relieved to now know what she was talking about. I searched my bag and took the opportunity for some genuine female bonding. "I've been caught like that a couple of times. It's so embarrassing isn't it?"

"Oh you're too right there," she said. "It's really nice of you to do this."

"Us girls have got to stick together haven't we? Otherwise life would be even harder for us than it is."

"Too right," she agreed and we both laughed.

Emma's preparations came up trumps again as I found two sanitary towels in their wrappers. "Is a normal ultra with wings OK for you?" I asked her.

"You're a lifesaver, thanks ever so much," she said thankfully. "I'm not leaving you short am I?"

"No it's fine, really," I assured her. "Mine's not due for a couple of weeks. I've just got ovulation pains to cope with at the moment. Is yours heavy or light?"

"Mine's really heavy on the first day but it's all over by the third so I guess I can be thankful for that," she replied.

"You're the opposite of me. Mine's light but it lasts a week. I often wish I could get it over with quickly like yours."

I bent down to pass the towel to her under the partitioning and I caught sight of a pair of very attractive dark skinned ankles and a pair of equally attractive long and slim feet in a pair of clean white Keds plimsolls. I couldn't believe my luck. I always longed to talk to pretty girls about their plimsolls whenever I saw them and now I had a chance to do so without any risk of appearing perverted.

"Your feet look lovely in your plimsolls, they look so pretty on you," I complimented her.

"Oh thank you," she replied with pleasure in her voice and rewarded me by turning her feet over and back and then stretching her feet forward while pointing her toes. "I feel really sexy and girly when I wear them. My boyfriend's crazy for me when I've got them on. I certainly have some fun then, I can tell you."

The Underpants of Doom rendered an erection impossible but I still had an excited feeling all the same as I imagined her naked with her plimsolls gleaming white against the dark skin of her legs wrapped around her boyfriend's torso while they engaged in very passionate and very athletic sex. I wondered if it was anything like what Emma felt when she was getting turned on. "Make a video and email me the link," I half-joked.

"I might just do that," she called to me happily as she left her cubicle. "See you; and thanks again," she added as I heard her leave.

I thought about Bill while I struggled painfully out of and back into the Underpants of Doom in order to pee (sitting down, of course). He might well be attracted to me but, I reasoned, many encounters never get beyond the stage of initial attraction and, since tonight was the only night we would ever spend in each other's company -- at least with me in my present guise -- the important thing was to enjoy to the full what could be had and not waste time regretting what could not be had and was not meant to be.

When I emerged from the Ladies' I recognised my recent neighbour by her plimsolls as she stood with some friends at the other side of the bar and I waved to her. She was medium height with Italian or Greek appearance and very pretty, like a Mediterranean Julia Roberts, with long dark hair in a loose wavy perm tumbling to her shoulders and back. She was simply but attractively dressed in a pink low cut close fitting long sleeved top with a mid length floral patterned skirt nicely emphasising her knees and her white plimsolls. When she saw my ballerina costume she put her hands to her face in surprise and mouthed 'Oh my God' with a huge grin on her face as I returned to my seat and resumed my conversation with Bill, feeling much happier and with my confidence restored.

We shared several more rounds and continued talking until I, assuming the role of the sensible one out of Emma and myself, declared it was time we were getting home as we were due to catch an early flight to Paris. As we left the bar we blew kisses to our Australian barman friend and we emerged into the cool night air with Emma clinging unsteadily to Wes -- the pair of them still laughing and joking together -- while I, better able to hold my drink, held hands with Bill as I walked in a floating kind of way by his side. Wes broke off from his yarn spinning to make 'why don't you lovely ladies come back to our apartment for a night cap' type noises but Emma and I remained resolute.

"But we'll escort you back to your place," Emma giggled, "London's a dangerous place at this time of night. They still haven't caught Jack the Ripper yet."

"That's very decent of you ladies," Bill smiled. "We're still strangers in town and liable to get ourselves lost.

We managed to navigate ourselves on a meandering course to the smart block of flats containing the company let where Bill and Wes were staying. Just before we got there we came to a small side alley which acted as an access road for service vehicles. Still giggling at Wes's non-stop flow of now somewhat confused witty repartee, Emma steered him into the alley and pushed him against the wall at a spot where we couldn't be seen from the main road. Taking my cue from her whilst wondering what she was up to, I did the same to Bill.

"Hey, are you girls about to pull a Thelma and Louise stunt on us?" Wes laughed.

"We will if you don't behave yourselves," giggled Emma. Turning to me with a wicked glint in her eye she said, "OK Charlotte, let's get down on our knees and get their pants down. We're going to give our American friends a souvenir of Little Old England they won't forget in a hurry, at least if they still remember it when they're sober."

When after being slightly slow on the uptake I realised she was talking us about performing oral sex on them my stomach lurched for a second before my alcohol bolstered spirit of adventure kicked in. 'What the hell, why not?' I thought. 'If I can't suck my own I might as well suck someone else's to see what it's like and I am supposed to be a girl, after all.'

I knelt down in front of Bill, fumbled with his trouser belt and fly for a few seconds and then pulled down his jeans and boxers. The concrete on which I was kneeling felt hard and cold through my thin black leggings and the tips of my black plimsolls as I shivered with a tight knot of anticipation about what I was about to do to him. The edge of my little black tutu skirt brushed against the ground and then against his legs as my position kept shifting. My false breasts nestled inside the tight lycra stretch of my black leotard brushed against his thighs and I so wished they were real and throbbing with excitement to match the longing ache screaming for release from within the tight and unrelenting constriction of the Underpants of Doom.

He was semi-erect in his alcohol hazed excitement but with his inebriated state his length seemed to be struggling to emerge from the dark thicket of his pubic hair. For a moment I had scruples about it feeling unpleasant to the touch, but to my relief, his clean cut image and personal habits extended to his private areas and as I began to stroke him he felt clean and smooth and dry. I thrilled at the sight of my long slim feminised fingers with my sexy painted nails lightly tracing the sinuous courses of the swollen blood vessels snaking over the stretched skin of his swollen shaft and thought of how much the sight of Emma's fingertips doing the same to my erection turned me on. I grasped him firmly and held him to my mouth, then the absurdity of the situation hit me and I had to struggle not to laugh; here was I, a straight guy dressed as a girly ballerina, about to perform oral sex on another straight guy who thought I was a girl. Then for a moment I scrupled as to whether a quick blow job in a back alley was really his style but when I asked him in a whisper if he felt OK about it his somewhat abstracted reply put my mind at rest.

"Hey, don't you mind about it," he drawled. "I'm married to the job so I'm happy to take whatever I'm offered."

I closed my eyes, carefully guided him into my open mouth and gingerly closed my lips just behind the fleshy flange around the base of his helmet. I was pleasantly surprised to find that it felt just like sucking on Emma's breast: soft and warm and slightly yielding to the press of my lips around it. I looked up at Bill. He was looking upward with his eyes closed, muttering under his breath while he steadied himself against the wall with his open palms pressed flat against the brickwork. 'Please whatever you do, keep you eyes closed,' I entreated him in my mind. Having a quick exploratory suck on another man's manhood was one thing but there was no way I was ever going to let another man come in my mouth, or any other part of me for that matter.