Sally's Ch. 01

This is the first part of a series, thus Part I (duh). As with most of my stories I take time to build a setting. Please stick with it. Part II is in the works, but I'd like to know if there is any thing in particular the readers are interested in.

This story involves a bit of cross dressing, a start of Sapphic love, the sharing of cum, and golden showers. If this isn't your cup of tea (or pee) then respectfully move on. The series will build and become bolder in its content.

Constructive feedback is always welcome as well as kudos and high ratings...

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I need to preface this story with a bit of an epiphany which struck during its writing. No one really cares about Brad Williams' (me) rocky road of life. Still there is some background info you need to know in order to understand the events which led up to that fateful day four years ago.

My wife and I met in college. She was a senior and I a junior. We fucked everyday and SURPRISE she got pregnant. We married. I quit school and got a job working nights for a shipping company. Deb was brilliant and got the vast amount of law school paid for via scholarships. I kept food on the table and a roof over our heads. Upon graduation from law school, Deb landed a great job with a big time law firm. I went back to night school and finished my degree. I got a decent job as an inside sales associate with a fairly large sized, private company which produced precision machine parts.

We both worked hard and soon led two different lives. The only real time we spent together was on holidays and then it was with other family members. Our son's life was totally controlled by Deb and she pushed him through boarding school, college and out of the house.

Deb controlled literally everything in our lives. As a married couple, I owned nothing but my car, my clothes and my computer. Everything else was in her name.

Sex was non-existent between us. That doesn't mean there wasn't sex—just not between us. I was fairly sure she was having an affair with a fellow attorney, Rory Wilson.

I put in so many hours at work, jerking off was my main source of satisfaction. When I tired of doing things myself I'd visit the local massage parlor for a hand job.

This all changed with the explosion of the internet, a job promotion to District Sales Manager, its associated business travel, and my growing paycheck which was nearly all mine.

As I said, Deb took care of everything; I just paid a few bills, bought groceries, and the rest was mine.

Since I wasn't in the market for a wife or an affair; I explored the professional scene when I traveled. Do I need to explain how great the net is for these resources? The more I surfed, looked, and played, the more I got into the nooks and crannies of my fantasies. Over time, I developed a nice network of fetish scene players in various cities, spanning a vast array of scenes.

This all came tumbling down four years ago when Deb discovered my collection of porn and fetish interests. I made the fatal mistake of leaving my 'personal' jump drive in the USB port of my computer. It was the excitement of getting last minute Sox's/Yankee's tickets which caused me to let my guard down. I was in such a hurry to get going, I never went back to the study to shut things down. By the time I came back from the game, our marriage was shut down.

Deb confronted me, and I didn't try to bullshit her. I came clean and that ended that. I never slept in the house again. Deb gave me one day to gather my belongings and clear out. Luckily for me she didn't pack for me or go on a house search because she wouldn't have liked what she would have found. Over the years I had amassed quite a collection of toys, panties, movies, and other items of pleasure.

The divorce was quick and took less than two months from start to finish. I was painted as a pervert and got nothing. As our son was a college graduate there wasn't a custody issue.

Deb did a great job of making me look like shit to everyone we knew. Somehow details of Deb's findings found there way into my workplace and the nickname of 'panty boy' spread like wildfire. The one thing in my favor was the attention Deb brought to herself while trying to destroy me.

As it turned out, I was right about Rory Wilson. The day our divorce was final, he moved in with Deb. I was living in small, but nice, furnished one bedroom flat.

The 'panty boy' nickname really bothered me. It's true; I've worn nothing but panties since I left the house. However, I had worked too hard becoming a DSM (District Sales Manager) to let a 'rumor' take it all away.

Fred Atkins was the chief perpetrator of the rumor. As a fellow DSM, he tried his best to spread rumors about anyone standing in his way to becoming the NSM (National Sales Manger). I knew I needed to shut him up or I would be ruined. This is the type of 'rumor' people love to escalate.

About three months after the 'rumor' started, the Sales and Marketing Team was gathered for a quarterly meeting. I was the last one into the room and I heard Fred snicker as I took my seat. I distinctly heard 'panty boy' being whispered in the background.

As Don Mason, the owner and NSM brought the meeting to order, he asked if there were any open issues which needed mention. For some reason he looked directly at me. From out of nowhere I got a shot of adrenaline and seized the moment.

Clearing my throat, I said I had something to say. Standing I began, "As most of you are aware, four months ago Deb and I went our separate ways. As most of you are also aware, the day our divorce was final Rory Wilson moved in with Deb. I don't know how the rumor of 'panty boy' started, but I do know Deb has gone out of her way to paint me as a pervert of some sort."

Looking around the table I could see all eyes bouncing back and forth between Fred and myself. I continued as Fred was being ID'ed by everyone.

"I've asked myself why Deb was doing this and the only explanation I could come up with was to legitimize Rory's move in. Obviously she was having an affair with him for quite some time and frankly I don't care. Good for them. May they live a life of happiness."

All eyes were on me at this point and it was time for the kill.

"Fred, I am going to once and for all end this 'panty boy' rumor. When I drop my pants, if I am wearing panties then everyone will know it is true. If I am not, then everyone will know it isn't true."

The gasp from the group was electric as I started to unbuckle my belt. Don Mason stepped in.

"Brad, that won't be necessary. I think we all get your point."

Not wanting to lose momentum I added, "Listen, I am trying to forge a new life for myself. I haven't asked anyone here for help. But what I don't need are slanderous rumors. I am being honest when I say if I hear them again, I will press charges. It is not something I want to do. I just want to get on with life."

Looking directly at Fred I finished, "Do you understand?"

Fred simply nodded.

Don firmly added one last point, "If I hear any more rumors, those involved will be terminated immediately. Have I made myself clear?"

The silence and Fred's bright crimson face indicated all understood.

What was so ironic about the showdown was first: Fred could break me in half. At 6'2" and built like a Navy Seal, Fred was Mr. Macho. My 5'10" runners frame was in stark contrast to his. The second piece of irony was my white, lace-top panties. I was calling everyone's bluff. Thank god, Don came to my rescue.

The meeting started and before long the atmosphere was somewhat normal. There were the occasional glances; but for the most part it seemed like a typical meeting. There was one thing which took me by surprise; a note slipped to me by Olivia Laraway, the company's Office Manager.

Olivia was a conservative woman who had been with the company just over a year. She was responsible for coordinating everything including invoices, expenses, payroll, orders, etc. Olivia was brought on so Don could just 'wheel-and-deal'—as he put it.

Most people considered Olivia the company watch dog; especially Fred. She had rejected his expense reports numerous times; had him redo his sales projections because, as Olivia put it, 'excessive fluff and bull-shit,' and generally clamped down on any waste of the company's money.

On the contrary, I found Olivia to be fair, pleasant, and friendly towards me. We took care of business when in the office but we still exchanged pleasantries and even had a few conversations about 'non work' topics on company time.

She did keep to herself and did appear to be watching how people spent their time in the office. This characteristic made most of the staff uncomfortable. When I would see her staring at me I just smiled, she returned the smile, and then we went back to work.

Because of her buttoned up look and this watchful eye, people thought her to be standoffish. There was another thought about Olivia also. Rumor had it (Fred) she was a lesbian. This was another unproven office rumor.

So when Olivia passed me a folded sheet of paper, I simply thought it business. Opening it I was amazed to read the one word message: "BRAVO!" My one word reply was merely "Thanks!"

Equally surprising was Olivia's next note which read, "Drinks Later?"

Up to this point I hadn't really looked at her. I didn't want to draw anyone's attention, but with this invite I turned towards her. Olivia was wearing a devilish half smile. The gleam in her hazel eyes caused a stir in my loins and brought a similar half smile to me. There was something alluring about her.

"Delighted" read my reply and this ended the note passing.

The meeting was over promptly at 5pm and many people headed home. Olivia grabbed her coat and headed out the door along with everyone else. I thought she forgot but when I got back to my desk there was the note we passed with one last message written on it, "Sally's @ 7"

A small grin came over me. Sally's was a notoriously gay establishment. Meeting at 7 meant I had time to get home, prepare, and head out. This was interesting.

Driving home I was getting nervous. So many thoughts rushed through my mind. Were Fred's rumors true about Olivia? After all, mine were true. Why did she pick Sally's? How should I dress? Why 7 and not right after work?

I would need a drink to calm my nerves.

Entering the partment, I poured a small glass of Chardonnay and headed to the bath, sipping as I went. Shaving extra close, I started thinking about Olivia. She was always dressed conservatively; typically neutral business suits which did not invite a second glance. I really couldn't tell if Olivia was a B, C, or D sized woman.

I did know she wasn't obese, but again I couldn't tell you if her body was that of a dancer or of the middle aged woman she appeared to be. Her hair was always in a bun. It was jet black without a trace of grey. Again I wasn't sure if it was natural or salon enhanced.

This train of thought continued in the shower. Olivia's skin was a creamy alabaster. A black pair of glasses was the only thing which completed her office outfit. Her eyebrows were hidden behind them, and I wasn't sure of their shape or size. She wore little to no make-up and I don't think she ever wore lipstick. This woman was a well kept secret indeed.

The more I thought about her, the more intrigued and aroused I became. I couldn't shake the notion that Olivia invited me to meet her at a gay establishment. This alone had me prepping myself more than usual.

Even though I had no idea what the evening had in store, I prepared for sex. Grabbing the hair removal cream, I smoothed it over my body to ensure there was no hair or stubble. Even though I was never very hairy, I kept my body smooth eve since the breakup. It made me feel sensuous and I loved the way my clothes felt on my body; both my male and female clothing.

After the cream was rinsed away, I spent a few minutes fingering my anus for no other reason than I love the feeling three or four fingers (or a dildo or cock for that matter) produce in my ass. It keeps me in an aroused state. It was one of the kinky little interests I developed over the years.

Not wanting to get myself too worked up, I did a final rinse and dried off. The wine had mellowed me and I was now feeling a bit vampish. I applied a lightly scented, lavender talc to my body and dusted my nipples and areolas with pink rouge---a habit picked up from a Madame in New Orleans. The act alone is highly erotic. It also turns me on to have a secret underneath while looking normal to the outside.

With my body piqued, it was time for the final touches. Walking into my bedroom I went to my intimates' drawer and selected a pair of jet-black, self stay, thigh highs and a matching colored pair of lace panties. I watched myself in the mirror as I slowly and sensuously pulled them on. What a wonderful feeling. The stockings were so smooth on my hairless legs and the panties encased my cock lustfully.

As Sally's seemed to be a casual place, I put on my tight jeans—a pair which accentuated my ass. I wore a starched, tapered, white shirt and left the top two buttons open. I did a finger comb of my hair, leaving my brown locks slightly tossed. The final touch was a pair of regular, thin black socks and my black loafers.

The look in the mirror was perfect. It was right down the middle of the gender line with just a hint of fem. I grabbed my short black leather jacket and headed out the door.

Walking to my car I could feel my cock being held in place by my panties and the smooth movement of the jeans over my nylons; how arousing. But there was another aspect about women's intimates which turns me on. One can look demure to the public while still being trashy underneath. It's a woman's secret to keep or to share. I wondered if Olivia had a secret to share.

Sally's was a relaxing fifteen minute drive. But I was still nervous. It's not like I hadn't dressed like this before or frequented similar places when out of town. I just had a feeling drinks with Olivia was going to be more than just 'Bravo.'

Pulling in, I parked along the side of the building just to be away from the mainstream. The lot was fairly full but the bar area was wide open when I entered. Sally's was made up primarily of private booths. These were all on the left side of the establishment with the first row facing the bar.

They reminded me of cross between private dining and the viewing area of an adult video store. Each booth was separated by high dark oak walls about five feet high and finished off with heavy two foot drapes around the sides and back. The front had a floor length curtain which could be closed for privacy. Many of the tables had theirs drawn shut.

The booth tables were a three-quarter circle with the flat end in front for the server. The seating was padded bench seats and looked very comfortable. The lighting was low and perfect for intimate conversations.

I didn't get the feeling Olivia was waiting in a booth; nor did I think it polite to look for her in each one. So I walked across the empty dance floor towards the large U shaped bar. The bar area took up the front half of the right side and I could imagine the place rockin' on week-ends and special party nights.

Behind the bar appeared to be a small kitchen. Servers were coming and going in a non-hurried, laid back manner. I really liked the place and thought it a good setting to meet someone.

Taking a seat at the bar, one of the servers, a stunning blonde dressed in cowgirl denim, came over for my order. Her smile made me feel at ease and she quickly had a Chardonnay in front of me.

While she was pouring I couldn't help but admire her shapely legs stretching out of the cowgirl boots all the way up and into her denim shorts. Her ass was perfect. The western checker-board print shirt tied seductively under her breasts was another eye catcher. Her blonde pony-tail gave the impression she could go from work to play with the removal of a hair band.

For a moment I forgot about Olivia. How I so adored women, I was jealous of how they could present themselves. Their breasts, hips, and smooth skin gave them such a natural canvas. Taking a sip I wondered what this young lady's kink was.

Glancing at my watch it was now 7:15 and I started to worry. The server noticed this and approached as if to ask a question.

"Your name wouldn't happen to be Brad would it?" When I nodded in confirmation, she continued, "Olivia just called and asked me to tell you she was sorry for running late." Pointing to a booth in the first row towards the end, she added, "She said she'd meet you in that booth in about 5 minutes."

I felt better, while being more nervous than ever. I ordered another wine and pulled out my wallet to pay. The server waived me off saying it was on the house. She also brought over two Chardonnays stating it was Olivia's drink of choice also.

Thanking the server, I took the drinks over to the booth. It was a great booth as it was secluded without needing the curtain drawn. I positioned my self at the end of the booth so Olivia could see me. No sooner had I taken a seat, the front door opened and in walked Olivia.

She walked right to the bar. The 'cow-girl' server went up to her and Olivia leaned over the bar and gave her a more than friendly kiss on the lips saying, "Thanks, Kim. I owe you."

Kim returned the kiss and then pointed to the booth replying, "No problem, girlfriend. Enjoy."

As Olivia approached the table, I was overwhelmed. This was not the Olivia Laraway from work. Yes it was Olivia, but now I knew why she chose 7pm. And from the kiss I just saw, I now knew why she picked Sally's.

My eyes were treated to a most sensual woman. Kim made one last comment as Olivia approached me smiling. "You were right. He is a dreamy guy. Have fun."

Olivia was dressed completely in black. Her black bomber jacket was open and the collar pulled up. She wore a black blouse which was also open--two buttons too low and the small pink rose of her black bra was clearly visible as she walked. Her hair was shoulder length and flowing.

The glasses were gone and her eyes were green; not hazel. Her skin was still alabaster but now highlighted with soft pink cheeks, rose eye shadow, and red-red lipstick. My heart skipped a beat.

Her pants were black, tapered leather to match her jacket and hugged her legs seductively. They were met by a pair of stiletto heeled, pointed toe, ankle high boots. My cock was beginning to stir at the sight of her.

Olivia extended her hand when she got to the booth. Her nails matched the red-red of her lips. I took her hand and started to rise. Olivia just slid in next to me while still holding my hand. The smile on her face was incredible and all I could do was smile back, as the words 'Oh My God' swooned around in my head.

Wasting no time, Olivia began an unnecessary, but sincere apology all while holding my hand in her lap. Actually it was against her mound and her other hand covered and uncovered mine as she spoke.

"Brad, I am so very sorry for making you wait. It just took longer than I thought to get ready. A girl has so much more to do than a guy, wouldn't you say?"

I was speechless but memories of my prep time came flooding back.

"We have so much to talk about, but before we get started we need to clear up two things."

Olivia's free hand went to the back of my head and pulled my face towards hers. I could see her eyes closing and mouth opening a second before mine did. We feel into a deep French kiss. Her tongue snaked over mine and worked it to perfection. My cock was growing rapidly and straining against my panties. The kiss went on for quite a while before Olivia pulled back.

"There, now you know I am not a lesbian, but rather bi-sexual. The second item is a question for you. What color were your panties today?"