tagTranssexuals & CrossdressersWhatever Your Heart Desires Ch. 06

Whatever Your Heart Desires Ch. 06


I was excited about going out with Lexi, more so than I had been about anything in the months since Danni left. The prospect of spending my birthday alone, without my sweetheart, was just too daunting. Being dragged out of my self-imposed exile for a night of drinking and dancing actually looked like an attractive alternative for a change. Perhaps it was just time. I had put the rape behind me. There was no question I was buoyed by what Lexi had told me about Danni's inclinations towards me. I finally had something positive to be hopeful about. In the meantime, I felt it was OK to live again.

My girlfriend had already finished with her final customer by the time I arrived. She whisked me into her couch and did a quick 'touch-up' on my hair. With the help of two of her operators, I got my nails and makeup done, too. The finished product went well beyond my carefully-cultivated professional image, so necessary for my successful career. I mean, I still looked like a 'pro' – but in a different genre.

After closing the salon, we adjourned to Lexi's luxury condo to dress. The ensemble I had brought to wear perfectly complimented this new and very different "me". I had purchased the royal blue latex sheath on a shopping excursion with Danni, shortly before our break-up. It was a halter style with a deeply-scooped back. The V'd neckline plunged almost to my navel, revealing way more tantalizing boobflesh than I was used to. The hemline was appropriately short, barely covering the tops of my sleek, sheer black stay-up stockings.

Did it fit me like a second skin? Is the Pope Catholic? I had chosen stay-ups because I didn't want the dress's sensual lines spoiled by the outline of a garter belt. At the last minute, I decided to forego panties as well, just to be daring. Aside from my lush, feminine contours, the only protrusions showing through the sensual rubber were my stiff, swollen nipples and prominent pubic mound.

I accessorized the look with a pair of Royal Blue patent platform sandals. The open- toed, ankle-strap design had a two-inch sole and towering six-and-a-half-inch stiletto heel, both of clear Lucite. Huge silver hoop earrings and a forearm full of jangly bangles finished the look.

Lexi had done a stunning scarlet patent leather two-piece bustier and microskirt combination which looked absolutely breathtaking against her raven hair and fair complexion. She laced herself into thigh-high red patent boots with five-inch heels to add an even more exotic aura.

We ate at a cozy little trattoria, more for its convenience to our evening's destination than anything else. The food was wonderful, although my mind really wasn't on it. Good service? We were doted on, slavishly, by our servers, plural. Lexi and I were never quite certain which one was actually working our section. At least a half-dozen diners, single and otherwise, made it clear with their eyes they would have given their souls to be part of our personal wait staff that night. We tipped well for the attention, but probably could have gotten away with no tip at all simply by telling them where we would be later. Then, we were on our way.

The bouncer at the door whisked us beyond the velvet rope instantly. Gotham's atmosphere already seethed with electricity. In a room full of pretty people, Lexi and I drew attention like twin beacons. We were offered drinks all night, but I made certain we consumed only what I observed to pass directly from the bartender's hand to ours. We danced, too; with each other, and a never-ending stream of male admirers.

We caught the eye of a trio of hunks I recognized as professional athletes. Months after the fact, the entire town was still basking in the afterglow of a championship season. These three were doted on for their heroics, just as Lexi and I had been at dinner. One of the three split off, heading for the other side of the room. The other two made their way to our side and requested a dance. The dance became two, then three, then I was no longer counting. Their manners were gentlemanly but their sensual appeal was anything but. I knew where this was headed, but was having misgivings about going there. I asked them to excuse Lexi and me while we went to the Little Girls' Room to powder our noses.

After I did that, and fixed my lipstick, I stopped and just stared at myself in the mirror. Lexi picked up on it immediately.

"Tell me," she stated quietly.

"I'm not sure I can go through with this," I intoned carefully. "I'm not sure I want to."

"The assault," Lexi inquired, "or Danni?"

"I am more cautious about having sex with strangers," I admitted, "but I won't deny I'm attracted. It's mostly about Danni. This is what got me into trouble in the first place. If I screw up again...."

Lexi held both my arms and looked at me intently.

"If you really don't want to do this, we will go back and make our excuses," she asserted. Then, she smiled and added: "I'll just beat you up over it later. Seriously, I won't force you to do anything you aren't ready for, but consider this. You have already admitted to me you have no exclusive rights to Danni. Don't you think she feels the same way, whatever she feels about getting back together with you? If the two of you decide to patch things up later on, fine. No one will be happier for you than me.

"In the meantime, you have a life. It's time you started living it again. Are these guys dangerous? Hell yes! What fun would it be if they weren't? But we know how to find them again if we have to. They're under contract."

My girlfriend smiled and winked at me as she said that. Then, she looped her arm through mine and led me towards the door.

"I have a hunch," she observed, "if Danni knew about this, she would tell you to go ahead and enjoy yourself. It's your birthday. She wants you to be whole again. We all do. It's time, Kristen – and Danni loves you that much. No one doubts you love her that much."

I pursed my lips and stared at the floor as I thought about it, then slowly nodded my head. Lexi ducked her head down to look into my eyes.

"Yes?" she inquired, smiling coyly.

I smiled back.

"Yes," I agreed.

"OK," she chirped, pulling me close to her as we returned to the dance floor. "Let's get nasty!"

If you have ever enjoyed the VIP room in such a club, you know the rules are a little different there than for the general public. Liberties are taken, and allowances made, by and for 'players' at that level – particularly if the room is closed to all but a certain few VIP's and their special guests, as it was that night. Disrobing was unnecessary; whether I wanted to admit it or not, Lexi and I had both 'dressed for action'. We got all the action we could handle.

Despite my initial reluctance, it felt good to have sex again, even if this gorgeous stud was a mere stand-in for the partner I longed for. On the other hand, this guy had an amazing cock. I gave as good as I got. His chiseled good looks, Greek God physique, satiny mahogany skin and tall, turgid tool got me off again and again. Lexi gave no indication her experience was any less powerful than mine. Two twosomes crossed over into variations of a foursome, then back.

After a time, I became aware a third couple had joined us. It was the third member of the trio, recently arrived, presumably with yet another girl chosen from the throng on the dance floor. I saw him, on top, in the subdued lighting. He was just as impressive as my date and Lexi's, if not more so. I happened to catch my girlfriend's eye at that moment and glanced in the direction of the new arrivals. She looked in that direction, winked, and shrugged her shoulders a bit, as if to say: Why not? The more, the merrier.

At that moment, the third couple rolled over with her on top. I saw her from the back, admiring her perfect hourglass physique, shapely, stocking-clad legs and the black patent platform stilettos she wore. Her top had been removed and the black patent skirt she wore was bunched up around her full hips and lush, heart-shaped ass. He was doing her anally, and she was taking every inch of his impressive dong. Her long, curly hair brushed back and forth across her naked back. I could just make out the outline of her overfull, giggling breasts. As she moved her head, a beam of overhead light flicked across her silky mane, which flashed brilliantly copper in the illumination.

I thought my heart would never start beating again. It couldn't be! My pussy seized the cock inside me, bringing my partner to a screeching halt in mid-thrust. After I engineered a swift change of positions, my Adonis was thrusting into my pussy from behind while I knelt upright, pressed into the backside of the red-headed enchantress. I hadn't been mistaken. Even the scent of her Obsession remained the same after all these months!

There were some startling differences. Her cheekbones were much fuller now; so were her lips. The bounce of her big titties hadn't been my imagination. She had gotten a boob job! I came at the thought she had committed herself so fundamentally, so permanently, to this new plane of existence.

Her eyes were closed in concentration. They opened slowly when she felt my body against hers and my fingernails tweaking those erect, sensitive nipples I had loved so much. She smiled sideways at me when she saw my face. She reached behind me to grab my asscheeks, pressing me tightly against her. I had caught just a glimpse of her fingernails as her hands passed my field of vision. They appeared to be just as long as Celine's had been, though deep red with gold nail art, as had been Danni's preference. The feel of those elegant talons digging into my tender assflesh sent chills up my spine. We came in that position, together, for the first time in months, our respective studs thrusting into us.

The candy store was once again open in my imagination. At times, our foursome became a sextet – no pun intended. In even my wildest flight of fancy, I had never envisioned sitting astride one stud, his magnificent fuckshaft filling my pussy, while my own sweet Danni knelt upright behind me, fucking my ass. She, in turn, was being fucked from behind by her stallion. When my two lovers came, gushing their loads inside me, I went over the edge and stayed there, not caring where, when, or who I was, nor how far the fall might be.

The moment passed, as all moments do. Danni hugged me tightly from behind, leaned over, and whispered in my ear.

"Is it as good as you fantasized?"

I gazed over my shoulder at her face, smiling contentedly.


She kissed me lightly on the cheek.

"Happy Birthday, Baby."

I stared at her uncomprehendingly, then spun my head to the other side and shot a glance at Lexi. She was riding her own pony, but was gazing at me intently. She grinned and winked. I knew at that moment I had been set up. I returned my attention to Danni, kissing her deeply. She kissed me back.

"Thank you. I do love you so much. I can only think of one more thing that would make it perfect."

She gazed down, shrugged her shoulders a little, then kissed me lightly on the cheek.

"I can't. I still have some things to work out. I just didn't want you to think I didn't remember – or care."

My heart sank. Damn it! For a moment, I had thought.... I really had hurt her. But she still had thought enough of me to give me my fantasy for my birthday. I really didn't deserve her. At least, I could pretend – and enjoy her as long as I could.

Lexi convinced me, with difficulty, to adjourn with her to her condo with our dates. At that moment, the love of my life was once again on top, riding her stalwart steed. I gazed into her eyes silently, beseechingly. She looked down at the gorgeous stud beneath her, then looked at me, smiled wanly, and shook her head.

"We have... other plans."

I tried to hide my bitter disappointment. I hugged her, kissed her cheek tenderly, then breathed into her ear: "I've missed you." As we left the room, I glanced over my shoulder to catch a final glimpse of the one who had always been The One. She was peering over her shoulder, looking at me.


I first heard the buzz on one of the local early-morning TV news/talk shows as I was getting ready for work. A new non-fiction novel was about to hit bookstore shelves and everyone was touting it as a 'must-read'. They were calling it the next Black Like Me; a scathing exposé on legal and social intolerance toward this country's last generally-acceptable target of discrimination, persecution and hate, narrated by a person who had lived it first-hand. The title? Desires Deferred: Being Transgendered In America. The author? Danielle Devereaux.

It couldn't be a coincidence....

I was first in line at the bookstore door the morning it went on sale. I placed my hand on Danni's picture on the back cover, trying to recapture the warmth I had once felt when I held her. It felt so good to see her face again, if only on the cover of a book. I read whenever I had a few free minutes. It was told in the first person, as well as quotes and third-person narrations gleaned from the experiences of other T-Girls Danni had met while 'researching' her story.

I devoured every word, starting with Chapter One: When You First Dream The Dream. She told of T's who had known there was something wrong with their gender identity as early as age two, as well as those that "came late to the game", finding their other self for the first time in their adult years. She wrote of girls who lived their whole lives in the closet, as well as those who were proudly, defiantly "out". She chronicled those who shared their special identity with a Significant Other, those who had only each other, and those who had no one but themselves. She revealed those who had come out and found at least some measure of happiness, as well as others who had lost everything in the pursuit of their dream.

Some, mostly the cross-dressers ("weekend warriors" as they were known in The Scene) were identified only by pseudonym - to protect their 'straight' identities, jobs, families and friends. A cadre of the braver "24/7" (full-time) girls were identified by their street or "Drag" names. They provided the bulk of the quotes and third-person material. One in particular, the author's "Drag Mother", had been shadowed through her world on a day-to-day, sometimes hour-to-hour basis. Her life and world was described in vivid, sometimes tawdry detail; the triumphs, tragedies, successes, failures, joys, sorrows and almost casual horrors that made up her day. There was a picture of her, which I recognized immediately. I was stunned. The caption read: Celine D'Arcy. I hadn't had a clue.

Our story was there, too; all of it, minus the names, places and dates. It was spread out throughout the book, beginning in Chapter Four: When The Fantasy Becomes Reality

"I was one of the lucky ones. I had someone. She was smart, funny, sexy, successful, daring, erotic – and stunningly beautiful, inside and out. We were happy, too – at least, for a while. Unlike others, I didn't have to invent some rationale to explain my desires to her. She began my transformation herself, out of the blue. It was her way of thanking me for giving her 'whatever her heart desired.' She adored 'Danielle', too – at least, for a while. I don't know what she saw in me as a man, much less as a woman, but she saw something and I loved her for it and vowed I would do whatever it took to make her happy. She was my world and I was lucky to dwell in it while I did. Happiness is relative, and all too transitory. I regret that happiness ended, but I would more deeply regret it not existing in the first place, as is true for so many others. I, at least, have memories, rather than fantasies...."

She continued our story in Chapter Six: When The Reality Becomes Fantasy

"She loved me without limits – or so it seemed at the time. She called that wonderful beginning 'Fantasyland', but each day after was a new fantasy fulfilled. If I was 'out there', it was because she extended my reach. If I was a 'bad girl', she liked me that way. To her, Conformity was a vehicle, not a destination - and a rental car at that. We loved often and well, sharing our secret-that-wasn't with strangers-that-weren't and friends-that-were. I could ask: 'What did I do wrong to lose her?' Instead, I ask: ' What did I do right to deserve her?'"

My tears began to fall in Chapter Eight: When The Fantasy Ends

"Everything that has a beginning, has an end. Sometimes, it is our excesses that finally catch up with us. Sometimes, it is boredom. Sometimes that which we are overcomes that which we strive to be. In our case, we just made a stupid mistake. The mistake was not that we had loved, trusted and had faith in each other in the first place. The mistake was, we lost sight of those things and quit trying. Perhaps it really had been just an illusion, a bit of parlor magic, as she had always claimed. In time, the smoke dissipates and the mirrors crack. The house lights come up. Then, you are faced with the real world; a bed you no longer share in a home no longer yours. Therein dwells a heart that has moved on. 'This way to the Egress. Watch your step.' It's cold out there, once the warmth is gone. You may find warmth again, sometime, somewhere. If not, the memory of it can warm you, too – just not as well."

There was more of course; the lives, the dreams of so many. Their lives were about illusion, lived on the edge, one day at a time. Illusion was their reality, and Reality an illusion. They avoided the 'real world' as vampires avoided the light; both burned body and soul. In the end, dreams would be dashed, lives would be crushed and discarded by almighty 'Family Values'. Society could be cruel if you were perceived to be 'different'.

Danni described the club scene in detail. In their illusory existence, it was the focal point and sometime defining factor in their social order. As in any other society, there was a caste system which defined the individual's place in the hierarchy. From her rich depictions and characterizations, I had no doubt she was describing Eve's Rib. I don't know why I never pictured her going there. After our experiences, I just always envisioned her going to 'straight' clubs. I realized that was my prejudice talking. As she described in her book, the so-called 'straight' clubs could, in fact, be a death trap for any T-girl who was 'read' – found out – even one as beautiful as Danielle. Sometimes, it came down to a matter of hooking up with the wrong guy, or how drunk he was at the time. Any girl could identify with that.

The most touching – and disturbing – chapter dealt with what girls in transition had to do to survive on a day-to-day basis. The truth was, unless a girl was completely 'unreadable', had iron-clad documentation, or was just plain lucky, she was likely to be locked out of the job market by prejudicial hiring managers. Even menial, minimum-wage jobs would be difficult to secure.

Sometimes the fields of Fashion and Cosmetology would offer opportunities. The author herself had gone that route and become a licensed Cosmetologist and Esthetician in the course of her 'research'. Not all the girls could get into those fields and not all had the talent for it. That left more creative methods of support. Finding a 'husband' (male lover) was a preferred path, though often perilous. A 'Sugar Daddy' was considered Heaven on Earth, but real Sugar Daddies were few and far between, and not every girl could attract one. Check fraud, supplanted by credit and ATM card fraud were traditional favorites. Dealing drugs – almost always at the lower echelons – was another, although the girls all too often got mixed up with the 'product' themselves. And then there was 'dating'....

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byAngelCherysse© 46 comments/ 77403 views/ 25 favorites

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