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The Luncheon

By Vickie Tern

Maureen and Claudia were already there when Nicole and I arrived, utterly absorbed in their own conversation, making small gestures to each other with bejeweled, beautifully manicured hands.
I saw that they were as carefully dressed and made up as we were, in brocade and silk with subtle eye-shadowing, and I felt glad I'd taken Nicole's advice and worn an outfit I'd originally thought way too dressy for a noon luncheon. This place was no ordinary restaurant anyhow, I realized as we walked in. It was snugged in among the town's upscale boutiques and featured an obsequious host, white linen tablecloths and napkins, bone china, and a clientele of elegantly dressed women who had paused to chat and refresh themselves while Saturday shopping.

Maureen's long blonde hair was pulled back as always into an impeccable no-nonsense bun, suave as always, as straightforward and simple as her tall, thin body in its free-fall, clinging dress. Just as I'd seen her at occasional receptions also attended by my wife's circle of best friends. The intricate curls in Claudia's short auburn hair betrayed a hairdresser's hand at work perhaps even this morning, a formality that went well with her silk suit and businesslike temper. I was glad Nicole had insisted I re-set my hair carefully this morning before we left the house. "If you want to be accepted as one of us, you've got to look acceptable, it's that simple," Nicole had told me when I'd thought brushing it out would be adequate. "This weekly luncheon is where we all display who we are at our best and catch up on whatever we've been doing. When it's your turn expect to show and tell everything, honey. No shyness, no regrets. Confidently, proudly!"

Maureen looked up as we approached, her eyes flicking over me but settling on Nicole. "Ah, Nicole, there you are! Lauren and Ashley are due any minute, then I guess our little group will be all gathered and we can order. I see you did bring ... is this really you, Courtney? Oh, my, you have changed! What a difference from ... when was it, a month ago at the Bartram's, when you were still ...? I'd never .... I'd heard, but whoever would have thought you'd end up looking so ... so pretty! You really are, Courtney!"

I smiled self-deprecatingly and shrugged and rolled my hips slightly, a gesture of shy denial Nicole had taught me for receiving compliments -- "Pretend you don't believe it but your pussy does and is grateful."

Maureen saw. "And so very ... sexy! Nicole, does this mean that she's been ... has she ... I mean, can we expect ...?"

"Oh yes," my wife replied. "He has quite a story to tell us, I'd say."

"Really!" she said, her eyes fascinated, now looking me up and down much more carefully. I felt comfortable under scrutiny, even a bit smug. I was wearing my lovely Claudia Jones two piece purple confection, a matching skirt and bolero over a ruffled blouse gathered at the neck. Nicole had assured me that with the gold chain she'd loaned me and my large gold ear hoops I looked perfect, sophisticated and smart. And sassy, too, the bolero open to display my beautifully proportioned and somewhat protrusive breasts. The luncheon group had heard all about them but not yet seen them, Nicole reminded me. "Your face may be your fortune from now on," she'd said. "If it's properly made up. But your breasts are any woman's certificate of authenticity, so don't hide them."

"Really!" Maureen repeated as she completed her inspection and flashed me a welcoming smile. "Well, I'm dying to hear all about it! Courtney, I am so delighted you're here at last. We all are. We've heard so much ... you do look lovely. Is that your own hair? Wonderful, you do it yourself? It's very flattering! I love the highlights."

"Thank you," I said in the mellifluous voice Nicole had me using exclusively now. I dipped my head slightly as I spoke, this time to suggest modesty even while again accepting her compliment as my due. Another of the many small gestures I'd learned from my reading in Cosmo and Vogue and even Seventeen, and rehearsed endlessly with Nicole. "Actually, yes to both questions. Nicole had her hairdresser style it for me for easy maintenance -- just a few rollers at night and a comb-out in the morning and here I am!"

"Imagine!" Maureen said thoughtfully, her eyes drifting back to Nicole. "You've done wonders with her, Nicole. I never would have thought .... Do sit down, both of you."

The Maitre d' held out our chairs successively and we sat, me remembering first to set my purse on the table, then to smooth my skirt as I lowered my bottom into the chair. When I looked up I saw Lauren and Ashley entering the restaurant at the far end, the last of our group today, smiling at the manager and gesturing toward us while he nodded. Ashley was wearing the wide-eyed, curly-topped, ditzy blonde look she cultivated these days despite her laid-back smarts, and Lauren's look was like her temperament straight, dark, and truculent. They came toward us holding hands. Nicole had mentioned they'd gotten very close even though they both had husbands.

"If fact they'd love it if their husbands felt for each other what they feel for each other," Nicole told me confidentially one day during one of the many sessions when we'd practiced trading gossip. "Not that they're lesbians or bisexual, more like omnisexual. But they do prefer their own kind, and they don't understand why their husbands don't feel the same way about their kind."

"Really!" I'd responded with an expectant smirk, leaning forward, encouraging Nicole to go on.

Nicole had nodded approvingly. What I'd said and done was just right. Then continued. "On a camping trip not long ago they tricked their guys into sharing the same sleeping bag all night, because that's what they intended to do and what they did, too. By morning theirs was so soaked with their secretions you wouldn't believe it, and they were too. But the boys in their sleeping bag were still as dry and chaste as ever. They'd both had boners half the night and didn't even once reach for their own much less the other's! Didn't even sleep spooned cock into rear end -- they were back to back when Ashley came to wake them. What a waste! Guys simply aren't as affectionate as we are."

I'd agreed that guys were unaccountable. And now I looked forward to hearing more provocative gossip like that. I felt overjoyed. This was Nicole's noon-every-Saturday luncheon, a gathering of her very best friends. I'd envied them that companionability for years, and now I belonged! Or anyhow, would by the time it was over.

It hadn't been easy. After several years of marriage and furtive dressing up I'd finally come out to Nicole. One evening only a few months ago I'd confessed to her that I'd been a crossdresser since boyhood and then sat back terrified, expecting the worst. But the worst never came -- she was far more fascinated than appalled. It seems she understood that kind of thing. She'd had friends with brothers or boyfriends or husbands like me who wanted to be occasional girlfriends. So she was much calmer than I'd anticipated as she questioned me.

I told her no, I hadn't spent a girlhood in the wrong body, only a boyhood, I was a crossdresser not a transsexual. Also, no, I wasn't at all interested in sex with men, I desired women, one in particular, her, and that was why I wanted to look like one, to feel as desirable to myself. No, I didn't want to live as a woman full time, only to dress up and look like one now and then, for the novelty and the excitement of it.

Nicole had nodded, but expressed bafflement. She'd never understood that part of it. Why nibble and not dine? Why not full time? She herself wouldn't want to be a girl any other way. The greatest single pleasure of girlhood, she said, was waking up every morning as a girl and looking forward to doing all the things girls love to do, knowing she'll be doing them every day for weeks and months, her whole lifetime. She couldn't understand 'now and then.' "It's like a quick kiss instead of a whole evening making love and anticipating more evenings into the indefinite future. Like a one night stand instead of a marriage that lasts."

I explained that my ambitions were modest. I enjoyed looking at myself, that was all. I hesitated, then I shamefacedly confessed to her that really, my fondest dream, the height of my ambition as a crossdresser, was merely some day to sit and have lunch in a nice restaurant while dressed as a woman, seated with other women, accepted as a woman by them, looking like one of them and talking with them about whatever it was women talk about when they meet for lunch. To feel that I'm one of the girls. That was all I aspired toward. And even that was only a wish, not a hope or an expectation.

Nicole had been frankly uncomprehending. "You mean like my Saturday luncheon group? You'd actually want to get all gussied and made up just to sit with us for a couple of hours and gossip? For you, that's being a woman?" She'd shaken her head and stared at me. "Incredible!"

I looked back at her, feeling a little hurt. "It's just a matter of looking the way I love to look and feeling accepted," I said. "Sort of authenticated, maybe. I mean, when people look at you they know who and what you are. Obviously a woman, so that's how they treat you, and so that's how you regard yourself. I'd like the same when that's who I am. Now and then. Not that it'll ever happen."

"I see," she'd said. I wasn't sure she did. "When you're a woman," she added. I couldn't tell if she knew I meant not really.

She nodded her acquiescence when I told her I wanted to try dressing up and looking feminine more often. "No problem," she said. "If that's what pleases you." Though only at home, I stipulated. "Only at home? My husband the wallflower?" she asked in an agreeably teasing tone. "Are you afraid to go into the big, bold, bad world to be seen as a woman? You might feel you'd lowered yourself?"

"I'm afraid to be seen as only a man who wants to look like a woman, that's all. That's a disgrace for a man."

"Why?" she quipped. "Every man should strive to better himself."

Then she looked me over more carefully, intently, almost as if evaluating a candidate for a loan. She may have been doing just that. Then she assured me, "No fear, honey, no one would dream you're a man if you did it right. You have a wonderful bone structure, a small face, a moderate build, and a head full of hair. Why should there ever be a problem?"

I was glad to hear she thought so. But I'd never been able to persuade myself. "We'll see," she said.

The very next Saturday, she saw. She was getting ready to leave the house to join her friends for the weekly luncheon. I happened to enter the bedroom while she was seated at her vanity and bending over to pull up her pantyhose. I loved seeing her do that. It was such a very feminine act. She was wearing the most delicate, frothy slip, and her long straight hair with its gracefully turned ends had fallen over her face. Then as she straightened up she tossed it back, and it fell in perfect order behind her as she looked up at me.

"Now you!" she told me. Was that a twinkle in her eye?

"Now me what, Nicole?" I had no idea what she meant. Toss my hair?

"Now you put on pantyhose. Here's a pair that should fit. Let's see how well you handle something as delicate and sheer as pantyhose. You've done it before, surely."

And she handed me an unopened package, Queen size. Bought for me to test me -- hers were a size smaller. I knew better than to argue.

In fact I welcomed the chance to show her -- years ago I'd passed beyond ruining pantyhose by pulling them up roughly or poking toes through them. Deftly I stripped off my shoes, socks, pants, and shorts, slipped a hand into each pantyhose leg down to the toe, pulled it up, pulled them both onto my legs, and carefully tugged the waist band to its proper place on my midriff.

"You have done that before, haven't you?" she said, looking me over.

I nodded, pleased with myself.

"Though there's poor dickiebird and his two friends squashed against your leg, with no proper place of his own in there and no place to hide."

Without a word I reached down and tucked my cock and balls in between my legs, leaving in view a clear, V shaped crotch like any woman's. Nicole's eyes widened.

"My my," was all she said. Then, "You know, you do have lovely legs, sweetheart. Really! Let's see the rest of this woman you like to resemble. Into the spare room with you, that closet where you keep your stash of clothes, I've seen it, and come out looking feminine while I finish doing my things here. No more than ten minutes, I really have to go!"

This was unexpected, frightening but exhilarating. Without a word I did as she said, raced to the other room, stripped and put on a bra and breast forms, selected a blue-striped stretchy blouse and a plain black pencil skirt and put them on, brushed my hair into fringe bangs, and took just time enough to pencil on eyeliner, smudge shadow on my eyelids, and swipe on a dark lipstick. I slipped into wedgie sandals and clipped on simple button earrings, then returned to our bedroom.

Nicole was now finishing her own make-up, seated at her vanity and applying it with painstaking art. She put down her blush brush and looked at me closely. Analytically this time, as if measuring something.

"This is the best I can do in ten minutes, Nicole," I said in modest apology. "I know I'm not beautiful, but....".

She raised one eyebrow in disbelief and faintly smiled approval -- I'd passed muster somehow, I didn't look like a fool. Then she said, "That's not an issue, honey. You look nice, quite like a girl, not at all manly. You do have a talent. Don't worry about it. But now I am running a little late. Be a pet and get me my black heels out of the closet, would you? I've got to leave this minute."

She finished dusting her cheeks and I did as she asked. But instead of taking the shoes from me, she twisted in her seat, leaned back, and wordlessly put one leg forward. Then the other. I realized what she wanted, knelt down, and slipped each shoe onto her feet.

"Thank you sweetie," she said, standing up and adjusting her skirt. "We'll talk. Bye now!" She waggled her fingers in farewell and left me still kneeling, watching her go out the door.

And that seemed to be that.

Weeks passed. but we didn't really talk. Now and then I'd get home from work first and meet her at the door wearing tight jeans, my cock and balls tucked way under and my smooth crotch declaring that here, unquestionably, was a female vulva. Maybe I'd also wear a T shirt with breastforms for a show of breasts along with light, casual make-up. Now and then I'd wear a skirt and blouse, tailored or pleated, and sometimes a dressy dress with full eye shadow, my hair teased into a semblance of something formal, as if I expected to go out later.

She'd give me her usual happy-to-be-home kiss and then we'd chat and dine, read or watch the tube, as always. She'd always try to compliment me when she thought I'd done something especially nice
-- "Is that a new perfume? I love it!" Or she'd wrinkle her nose when she didn't approve, and sometimes tell me why -- "Never wear a print skirt with a print blouse, honey. One or the other, and then the other plain!" Or "If you don't have a lipstick to match your nails, do please borrow one of mine!" Or "'In' or not, I think visible bra straps are tacky." Otherwise my dressing seemed to be no big deal for her. She gave me two nearly-new dresses culled from her closet as too unfashionable to wear to work. "They're yours if you want them," she said. "If you wore them to work, no one would notice they weren't the latest." I managed a crooked thank you grin, and found that they actually fit me well.

Then three weeks ago everything changed. Three weeks ago she herself raised the subject. It was a Friday evening, and it happened to be an evening when I'd come home from work tired and changed from my suit into men's slacks instead of a skirt. For once I was being myself, a man. It had been a tough week and I was exhausted and didn't have it in me to put on even the minimal make-up I needed to resemble a woman.

Nicole knew I'd been heading a difficult project and that only today I'd brought it in successfully. I met her at the door with a kiss and told her the bosses had been congratulating me all afternoon. She was so pleased for me. "Good!" she said. "I'm so glad! Congratulations, honey. I know it's been an ordeal. Now that it's done, you deserve a real change." Then she'd paused and just stared at me silently for a moment, so I'd know she was serious. Her next words were, "Honey, let's go sit down."

I got worried and quickly moved to the living room couch and sat there on edge. Then instead of sitting next to me she pulled over a straight chair and sat herself facing me. She continued, "It's time. You deserve it. I want you to reward yourself."


"Yes, oh. You once mentioned that your highest ambition as a crossdresser was to be part of something like my Saturday luncheon circle. To sit with Maureen and Ashley and the rest of us and dish the dirt. Praise whatever one of us has bought recently, and sympathize with whoever's having the usual problems with her husband. Discuss whether to have dessert and decide not to, then spend twenty minutes dividing the check."

"Yes," I said. "I'd love it. But not as a man. Looking like a woman, so I can imagine that's what I am." I had no hope it would ever happen.

"You wouldn't mind all my friends knowing about this ... peculiar habit of yours? Being seen by them in a dress? Sitting there like a lady and gossiping with us all about yourself and all the while they know who you are underneath?"

That was a problem. But there was no way to evade it. I wanted it. "Not if you don't mind," I said, swallowing hard. In fact would I feel embarrassed? Yes. Humiliated? Maybe, certainly if they laughed at me. Could I leave the house and walk the public streets and enter a restaurant pretending to be a proper woman? I'd have to. Was I getting in over my head? Probably.

"That's good. Because last Saturday I told them that's what you want, and we've discussed it, and they see no problem accepting you if you can meet the conditions we've all met. We don't want a man sitting with us, not even an effeminate man. You'd have to look the way we look and share our interests and concerns. Know how women feel about things, some things especially. You'll need to blend in and contribute. And plan to be a regular with us, week after week, not some table-hopper or day-tripper or visitor. Can you do that, do you think? Do you want to?"

I was stunned. Tears came into my eyes. For a moment I couldn't say anything. Then, "Nicole, with all my heart!" was all I could say. "Yes!" I suppressed a sob, then managed to gasp out, "Tomorrow?"

She was moved by my reaction, and took my hand and spoke very gently. "Oh, no, not tomorrow," she said. "You aren't ready. It won't be that easy, baby. But it'll happen just as soon as we can get you ready. I'll tell the girls you've agreed and we'll aim at three weeks from tomorrow."

"Oh!" was all I could say. "Oh, Nicole." I was overwhelmed.

She saw, and finally came over and settled into my lap and kissed me. Then kissed me again, her soft lips on my lips and on each of my eyes. I closed them blissfully. "It'll be hard work, Courtney darling," she said in a low voice. "You'll have to do everything I say, and I mean do it over and over until it's done perfectly, until it's just part of what you are. Everything. No exceptions. And some things I'll ask of you may seem strange, not at all what you want. Difficult. But you'll have to do them anyhow, because I want you to. You have to agree to that right now. I mean it. No exceptions. Everything."

I stared wide-eyed at her, a pang of fear suddenly clutching my stomach, what could she have in mind? But I also felt hope! And mainly I felt transported, elated! Euphoric!

"You'll do everything I ask and be everything I want you to be, and I assure you that three weeks from tomorrow we'll both be seated with the Saturday club, chattering away with the other girls like two old hens."

A distant daydream had suddenly become a reality within reach! I couldn't even speak. "All right," I croaked. "Yes, yes!"

"Oh, darling!" she cried out, hugging me. "You have no idea! I do love you! Let's go to bed right now!"

We did. Scarcely separating from each other long enough to undress. And then we embraced and fucked and sucked and licked and stroked every inch of each other over and over! At first ferociously, then the final time so very tenderly. So gratefully. Then slept wrapped up in each other.

And now here I was. In an excellent restaurant, dressed well and seated with the other women of Nicole's Saturday luncheon club.

When I agreed to her conditions she insisted it had to be full time, that I take three full weeks off from work to learn what I needed to know. And she'd taken three weeks off too to help prepare me. So we'd both been at it constantly, through three weeks of sheer persistence, Nicole tasking me, driving me to do better. Her encouragement was laced with disdain, even anger whenever I failed to meet her standards.

Only two days ago she'd told me to hurry with my make-up because I had a salon appointment that morning. "You're ready," is all she'd said. "It's time for you to enter the real world." I'd balked, terrified. The entire three weeks had been spent closeted in our house, and I'd given no thought to the outside world. It was inevitable that I emerge, I knew that, but it was scary even so. So when I turned pale under my foundation and said something like 'No, not yet' Nicole had gotten furious. "This isn't a game!" she'd shouted. "This is a way of life! You can't just learn it, you have to live it! Until you can live it all the time, you can't possibly know how to do it now and then!"

I was humbled. And it turned out she'd prepared me so well there was no problem at all. I went with her to the salon and had my hair and nails and face done professionally, and my ears pierced, and I emerged more trim and beautiful than ever before in my life. I felt wonderfully confident, and we spent the rest of the day in woman country at the mall, roaming the shops like the dearest of friends we'd become. When we paused and I found myself chatting with her at a little table in the food court, sharing a pot of tea with her, I realized that I was sublimely happy. Then when we returned she'd told me I'd passed with highest honors, with only one last thing remaining.

And the next morning, only yesterday morning, she told me what that one last thing was. A 'shake-down cruise' that evening to a nearby dance bar to learn to cope with the kinds of men a girl meets and deals with every day. When she announced that I got too frightened to move. But again she hadn't yielded. So we'd gone, and I'd gotten so carried away that this morning when I woke up and remembered everything I'd felt a little ashamed. But not a lot. I'd lived through that ordeal too, and I'd earned my place here at this table. And now here I was.

Lauren and Ashley had arrived at the table and were looking down pleasantly at us sitting there, saying, "Courtney, how nice, we'd heard you were coming!" and "Aren't you pretty? Nicole, you've done wonders with her. I can't wait to hear what she's got to say!" All by way of greeting, and then they sat down. Lauren asked me as if she had to know right off, "So tell me, did you actually go dancing last night? And so on? Everything went the way Nicole planned it?"

"Why, yes," I replied in my most cultivated flute-like voice. Though I didn't think Nicole had exactly planned what happened. So much of it had just happened. I wondered what she meant.

The waiter handed us all oversized menus and we ordered. I asked for the "Siren Salad," because this morning Nicole had given me the best of all incentives to lose a last few pounds. "I'm so proud of you for last night, honey!" she'd said. You were wonderful! Your reward is that now every dress in my closet is yours too, whenever you want to wear any of them. I want to share my whole wardrobe as well as my whole life with you! Completely! You've proved yourself so beautifully! Though to fit into my really slinky gowns I'm afraid you'll need to lose a few more pounds."

Her wardrobe was all designer labels and stunning, well worth the sacrifice of a few meals for the privilege of wearing them. Besides, I'd found out this past week that given my new breasts, the smaller my waistline the more provocative my figure. And a narrow waist also lends curvature to the hips. I did want to look as attractive as possible, as a matter of personal pride.

"I love dancing," Maureen was saying to Lauren as I emerged from my reverie. "I could go dancing every night of the week. When we first dated and then all though our honeymoon Tom and I always rounded out the evening at some bar or club with a dance floor. Dancing is the most fun any girl can have with a guy without fucking, and sometimes you can sort of manage that too. I thought Tom shared my passion for it, but when we got back from our honeymoon he just settled in and glued himself to the TV and I couldn't move him away ever. Nowhere! Not even to a gallery reception, not even to dinner with friends much less some place with a band or orchestra! Talk about finding yourself stuck with a stick in the mud? I was actually glad when he ran off with Joelle, because then I could start living again. Right off I called some of the guys I'd known before my marriage, fabulous dancers. Some of them could keep going all night, on or off the dance floor. And that kind of exercise does keep a girl in shape!"

She thrust her generous bosom out at us and wriggled her shoulders suggestively, beamed at everyone, then went on. "So, Nicole, you and Courtney actually went dancing and met some men? Just the two of you? Is that so?

"Yes we certainly did," my wife said. She glanced affectionately at me. "We had a marvelous time, too. Courtney especially."

Claudia jumped into the discussion. She'd channeled her flair for clothes into ownership of an upscale dress boutique -- I looked forward to shopping there now that I was comfortably out. "Was Courtney dressed like this last night, Nicole? I don't mean this particular dress of course -- it's charming, by the way, Courtney, plum is certainly your color. I mean like a woman? Both of you?"

"Yes," I replied for both of us. My throat was so constricted I didn't need to remember to pitch my voice higher.

"So last night wasn't the first time you wandered out into the big bad city looking like a girl?"

"No, the whole day before we spent together, at a salon and then the mall." I said it with barely suppressed pride.

Her eyes ran over me quickly. "A salon? Of course, you've had a perm and a frosting, look at that! It's so cute! Everyone at your office'll think you're adorable when you show up Monday. And mall-crawling too? You bought dresses and things enough to wear every day from now on?"

What could Nicole have told her? "Nicole's seen to it that I have everything I need," I answered her indirectly.

"So how was last night," Ashley asked. "Fun? I heard you were going to have to deal with a fella. Did you look hot?"

Now I turned bright red, remembering. It had been scary in the beginning, but not unpleasant. Then unexpectedly arousing, and then utterly ... I tried to find the right word. 'Amazing' in a way. Challenging. Strange. Transporting, in a way. Wonderful, I couldn't deny it. But I felt too choked up to say anything.

"He looked very sweet, Ashley. And hot too," my wife replied after glancing at me and noticing that I looked paralyzed. "We had a marvelous time!"

"Wonderful! You double-dated? Your first date, Courtney? I'll never forget mine -- his name was Ken, and everything a young girl could possibly dream. He was such a gentleman until just the right moment, and then he was such an animal! Perfect! And now you've had your first date too. O my! You've got to tell us all about it, what he was like, everything. But most important, what did you wear?"

I tried to answer, but couldn't even swallow.

"No, no, we didn't exactly double date, though it did end up sort of that way," my wife answered after another glance at my face. "Courtney wore a little black dress we'd just gotten him, a lovely thing. And he'd just gotten his ears pierced, so I loaned him my new diamond drop earrings, the ones with the matching choker, you remember, I told you about them a few weeks ago? They went perfectly with that dress! He looked like a doll!".

I'd wondered why she wanted me to wear such valuable, glittery jewelry. The place we went to wasn't that fancy -- in fact I was the only woman, the only person I mean, who was wearing diamonds. The other ... the women there wore mostly sporty jewelry, pewter or plastic or leather or Mexican silver, you know. Or none. Nicole herself wore a pair of amber hoops with an amber pin. But she'd insisted on diamonds for me. "I'm proud of them and you both," she'd said. "You both sort of go together in my mind. When I show you off to the world I want you to show them off too!"

She'd gotten them just before my three week training session began, my 'rehabilitation as a woman' as Nicole called it. From her company, a gift of gratitude they called it, an award of some kind. When she came home she was beside herself with delight. "Aren't they just beautiful?" she squealed to me, holding them to the window and turning them in the late-afternoon light. "I couldn't wait to show you!" She also showed me the simple hand-written card that had come with them, a nice message saying only "In deep appreciation," and signed illegibly by her boss. "So thoughtful," she said serenely, looking at the card, then at the jewelry, then back again.

They must have cost the company a small fortune, I was thinking, though I didn't doubt she was worth far more to them. A nice gesture to dissuade her from straying to another company, probably. Altogether feminine, assertively bright, sparkling, yet incredibly delicate. I suppose she hoped when she loaned them to me that they'd help me feel more feminine. They did. I loved them.

"You loaned Courtney your new diamonds? Earrings and choker both? The ones your .... company gave you?" Lauren asked.

"Courtney had done everything I'd asked, and superbly, for the whole three weeks," Nicole told her quickly. "They were special to me. I wanted him to wear them on his special night too."

"Well!" Lauren looked almost speechless. "You are something!"

I was wondering why Lauren was surprised -- did she think I'd lose them? -- when Claudia changed the subject. "What kind of little black dress was it, honey?" she asked me.

It was time I spoke out again. All this talk about clothes was better than describing how the evening had ended. Not unpleasantly, and I knew I'd need to say something, but I was still a little ashamed. My heart leaped up. I was a woman among women at last, living my dream, and I'd just been asked about the darling dress I'd worn last night. It had all been worth it!

I remembered what I'd intended to say because I knew I'd be asked. "It was just lovely, that dress," I piped up. "A Cienfuego. Terribly expensive, but Nicole insisted I had to have it, it was me, perfect for my figure. I did feel so very pretty when I tried it on. A clingy jersey halter dress, open front, bare-shoulders and back, faux-wrap, the skirt not too short, maybe mid-thigh." I breathed easier. This was the kind of conversation I'd always envied women when I passed their tables at lunch and overheard them. And now I was a part of one!

"Yes, mid-thigh. He has incredible legs for a man," Nicole added proudly. "Really, it's a crime he's kept them hidden in trousers till now. With his curved calves and thighs and thin ankles to die for. I want to keep him in skirts and shorts forever, from now on. When I first saw those legs at that beach resort where we met, I swear my first thought was that he should have been a girl. And then when I saw them in pantyhose a month or so ago, I knew it!"

"So now that's what she is," Claudia responded. "A halter dress?" She smiled wickedly at me. "Her shoulders don't look too ...manly?"

"They never did," Nicole said, glancing over at me. "That was one of his problems as a man. But not as a woman."

"And a bare back. With a plunging neckline too?"

She was teasing, but I only nodded. "Yes, very. Nearly to the navel, designed to show a lot of cleft." I said that last rather proudly. Nicole had warned me the conversation would go this way and that embarrassment would be unseemly. "All girls have boobs and they are nothing to be ashamed of," she'd said. "We look for opportunities to show them off!"

Claudia looked puzzled, but maintained a jesting tone. "Cleft you said? My dear, that sounds so sexy. When I wear something that daring I'm always worried that my bra will show, or if I go braless that I'll fall out and reveal all. How did you ...?"

"Nicole thought I should go braless," I said as casually as I could. "Now that I can. So I did."

"Now that you can?" Claudia looked at me and then around the table, bewildered. Then she stared directly at my softly curving chest, my breasts swelling out on either side of the ruffles that ran down the front of my blouse, where the purple -- I mean plum -- bolero jacket parted like a theatrical curtain to reveal them. They were eminently noticeable. The other women looked at Claudia wonderingly.

Ashley was the first to realize what her problem was. "Of course, Claudia!" she said. "You don't know, do you? Courtney's boobs are real! You weren't here that first week, when Nicole told us Courtney'd agreed to join us and agreed to the full three weeks of rehabilitation Nicole proposed. Agreed above all to get implants right off as a precondition. Then to prove her sincerity she got them the very next day. Those are both hers. Courtney has the breasts of an 18 year old, Nicole told us. And from what she was planning for him, the nipples of a nympho."

"You mean all that is you?" Claudia was still staring at my generous bosom. "They aren't breastforms or stockings or balloons or bags of rice, all those things we used to use for filler when we were twelve and not all there but wanted to look as if we were? That's ... that's wonderful, Courtney!"

She didn't seem so sure. I felt a little embarrassed, and despite Nicole repeatedly reminding me to keep my shoulders back, to wear my tits boldly, I hunched my shoulders forward just a little.

"He had to get breasts sooner or later, Claudia," Nicole said quietly. "And home grown would have taken too long. I kept telling him that for a man to feel like a woman as well as look like one, he must have the ultimate feminine accessory. That when he joined us today he had to be shaped like the rest of us. That with styles and necklines the way they are these days, your own breasts partially revealed are an essential part of every woman's wardrobe. That if he wanted to look like a woman, he shouldn't have to button up and look like a prude."

"Oh, I don't know," Claudia said. "I mean, she's wearing that high-necked blouse right now and it's not at all prudish. Givenchy, isn't it? Her neck rises so gracefully from those collar-ruffles. But do you mean that's ... those ... are her figure ... I mean, they ... they're really real?"

"Answer her, Courtney, why don't you?"

"Yes," I said. "Yes, they are. I mean they look real, anyhow. Dr. Salzberg says you can't tell an implant from a home grown if it's done right. She slipped them in against the pectoral muscles so there'd be a thick layer of natural skin and adipose tissue on top, and now no one can tell the difference even by feel, she says, not even after a whole night of groping and sucking and ...." I stopped talking, really embarrassed!

"I certainly can't tell the difference, and I see him naked all the time," Nicole said. "I mean, we're both still young, so our breasts still look great. But mine are beginning to sag ever so slightly, the beginning of things to come." She smiled to herself. "Not that they're any less appealing for that, that I do happen to know for a fact."

I supposed that by "appealing" she meant in her own eyes as well as mine. Each morning she'd check her figure carefully in the mirror before getting dressed for work. I wondered if seeing herself in that racy lacy lingerie she loved turned her on the way it did me, the way seeing myself in delicate bras and panties always turned me on. I asked her that once, and she'd replied that what turns her on was knowing that her figure turns men on. That that was what she was checking for. Then she looked embarrassed, and when I told her that her figure certainly turns me on, she nodded gratefully, as if she'd said too much and I'd bailed her out.

"But compared with mine Courtney's breasts are perfect," she went on. "And they'll stay that way for a few more years, though eventually they too will go the way of all flesh."

"That's nice," Maureen said with a gleam in her eye. "Lucky you, Courtney! A few more years before you need to learn the tricks the rest of us have had to pick up along the way, how to use candle light and shadows and so on to hide our little defects, our sags and bulges, and how to distract a man with moans and fingertips when you're lying there naked and he's leaning over you."

"Hmmmp," Lauren said. "Don't misunderstand me, I adore breasts" -- and she glanced at Ashley's approvingly -- "but Nicole, I never thought you of all people would want to be married to a man with tits, when there are all those hunky guys out there ... who ... I mean .... I'm sorry, Nicole, I didn't ...." She fell to coughing and paused to recover her breath, then continued. "I mean, you're soooooo hetero!" She smiled to show she was teasing. Then said, "Well, I suppose there are advantages. I mean Courtney's boobs certainly keep her close to home, don't they? Without much opportunity to stray? I wish it weren't so, but most women just aren't interested in sex with someone else who has tits. Especially a man with boobs that look better than hers."

Lauren had also felt miffed that my wife was unavailable. Claudia broke in. "Men don't feel that way about breasts on us, Lauren. Not at all. They love them. So why not on themselves too? Girls, what do you think? Should we hook Courtney up with a man now that she's so ... well, just look at her ... stacked?"

Nicole replied amused. "I wouldn't say that last night he wasn't hooked up with a man, not exactly. But one surely hooked up with him. Do you want to tell us all about it, honey, or should I?"

"You, Nicole." Now I was back feeling very uneasy.

"I'll begin, but you'll have to describe the big finale, honey. And how you feel about it. That's what we're all waiting for. Just hear me out and wait your turn." She paused, then smiled at me reassuringly. "Oh, yes, Courtney honey, listen. Some of the things I'm about to say you don't know yet. They'll sound new and maybe a little surprising. But no interruptions, just hear me out. All right? You won't mind?" She waited.

As so often during the past few weeks, she wanted me to commit myself blindly in advance. So far I'd survived it. "No, I won't mind," I replied.

"You promise?"

Odd. I just did! She wanted me to repeat it? But OK, "Yeh, sure, honey. I promise."

She took my hand and held it in both of hers, and then didn't let go when the waiter came round with our orders. The others began eating. We didn't. "You know how much I love you, don't you?" she began.

She wanted us to trade that kind of intimate declaration right now, in front of all her friends? All right, now that she'd begun and there was no way out. "Yes," I replied, my throat a little lumpy. "I do. And I love you too, Nicole. Dearly."

"I know." She smiled at me so very sweetly and her eyes glistened. And she continued to hold my hand even as she turned to address everyone else at the table. "Well, Courtney had been a real angel for all the days and weeks I'd been getting him ready for last night and then for his formal presentation to you girls today. I mean, being a woman is lots of things, and even though he's been a crossdresser all his life he didn't know much. Luckily he has excellent taste, no problem there. And he knows his makeup techniques well enough -- how he learned them, how to use all our little brushes and sponges and puffs and so on, only the Lord knows. True, he had no concept of his own best shades and colors, and he couldn't even begin to guess when enough was enough for daytime but not enough for evening wear, things like that we needed to work on. And he took way too long to apply his make-up, especially around his eyes. I mean, a half hour for mascara, liner, and only two shades of eye shadow? A half-hour? I ask you! I knew he'd have to learn to do his whole face in ten minutes tops in order to get out of the house in reasonable time every morning and not be late for work. After all, some of us manage to do it in a car mirror in only one or two traffic lights."

"Get out of the house?" Maureen asked. "I thought you were getting her ready for only the salon and mall trip and then the dancing last night. And today's meeting, of course, and others in the future probably. But she's also been going to the office dressed as a woman? What in the world did they think of her the first time she showed up there?"

"Oh, no, I don't want to mislead you. He's been on a three week leave, the same as me, so we could concentrate on changing him over, transitioning him properly. This coming Monday will be his first day at the office as our new girlfriend. As the woman he is now."

"It will?" I gasped, shocked! It had never occurred to me! Not even when I got my hairdo! My mind had been set entirely on this Saturday meeting. I meant it as a question, incredulous, but the words exploded out of me as if an affirmation, I was so amazed by what she'd said. The firm's Head of Purchasing show up at the office dressed like this? Like a woman? Looking ...? Impossible!

Nicole smiled into my face as if sharing my assurance and held on tight to my hand to forestall any further outbreaks. "You will indeed, honey." Then to the other women, "And they won't think anything at all about it. I know that for fact, because I've already discussed it with his office staff and his senior partner. Weeks ago, just after his breast implant operation, while he was still sleeping off the effects and I knew he'd committed himself, that's that, even though he didn't think so himself. I told them that Courtney wants to be thought a woman from now on, and be treated as one, and would appreciate their cooperation."

"You told them what!?" I was dumbfounded and frightened, both at once!

"Well, it's certainly true, Courtney." That last was aimed at me. "You do want it. Maybe not quite so ... extensively, but you do want it. Why else are you here? And anyhow, your boss and the others where you work saw no problem at all. It's settled. Monday you'll go in looking like a woman and continue in your old job with all your old responsibilities. Before too much longer you'll forget what it was ever like to be a man, and a woman is what you'll be"

I was appalled! Nicole had outed my little ... indulgence to everyone at work? I was about to speak out in anger -- and terror too -- but Nicole's two-handed grip now clamped my hand to the tablecloth. I remembered my promise to hear her out. So I tried to control myself.

She continued with her story. "The day after I told them, Courtney's secretary phoned and said that all the women there had agreed to consider Courtney one of them. Just like us. He can use the Ladies, no problem, and they've invited him to join their all-girl lunches -- it seems they get together every day just as we do on Saturdays. 'We've always thought of him as such a sweet man,' is what she said. 'So how can we love her any less because she's now a sweet woman?' Well, I knew that socializing with women as a woman in a public place like a restaurant has always been Courtney's dream of paradise. That's why he's here today. So I couldn't thank her enough."

She turned to me, her grip still tight. "Isn't that marvelous, honey? You'll be fulfilling your heart's desire every day but Sunday from now on. With other women all the time. Sundays I reserve for me. We'll always have brunch together at home and tell each other all about our different adventures, where we've been lately and with whom." And she squeezed my hand like a vise to inform me that I had better answer in kind.

"Marvelous," I said in a tense, level voice. Almost like a man's. "And what did the senior partner say? My boss?"

"You'd have been so pleased to hear him. He respects you enormously, Courtney. He told me that whatever you feel you need to do, you should do it, that he's never known you to be wrong about anything that mattered. Then he joked that of course when you begin working for him as a woman he'll have to pay you a third less so you won't exceed the pay range for the other women employees."

The other members of the circle watched this revelation with considerable interest and some amusement. They saw clearly enough that I hadn't known I would be working as a woman in the future, living as a woman every day and not just Saturdays. They knew now that they weren't just listening to Nicole tell a story and waiting for me to tell mine, they were watching a happening. An event was taking place before their eyes that Nicole had scripted in advance in which spontaneously I'd be playing my prescribed part, improvising my lines appropriately, only I didn't know what part it was yet.

"So that's why you trained her to put her face on quickly every morning, the way we all do," Maureen said, returning Nicole to where she'd left off. "Very sensible and practical. What else did you need to do with her?"

"Well, the most important we've already mentioned. His breasts. I knew that once he had breasts and became our sister under the skin, so to speak, everything else would fall into place. So I got him to agree right off, and took him to see Dr. Salzberg for his implants the very next day. I wanted him to feel committed, all bridges crossed and burnt before he could back away. I mean, I didn't want to invest all the time it would take to make him into a convincing woman if he wasn't serious."

The other women listened attentively. So did I.

"Well, it turned out he wasn't really serious. He wanted only "A" sized boobs, token breasts, and even those only as a concession to me. I suppose he figured that when he wasn't dressed as a woman he could wear a loose shirt and be a man again, no problem. Well, we're both lucky he didn't get a chance to say so, or he'd have no breasts at all right now. Dr. Salzberg explained to him that she doesn't accommodate fetishists, only serious transsexual women, and that the proper size breasts for Courtney's physique was D. 'Nothing smaller, though certainly nothing larger,' she told him. Remember how sternly she said that to you, honey? She seemed to assume you'd want monster gazongas, the way some men do."

I nodded, recalling how I'd felt trapped by Dr. Salzberg's categorical statement but had quickly decided I'd rather have the bigger boobs she'd prescribed than disappoint Nicole and myself and have none at all. I could live with them, I figured. I'd had no idea then that D's are so heavy they need a brassiere's support practically all the time, from the moment you stand up in the morning to the moment you lie down again at night. Or else they jounce and wobble oddly, and stretch, then sag past your belly. And that once you're wearing brassieres, your breasts are thrust forward for all to see. Even athletic bras or minimizer bras only round them out a little. I couldn't hide them. During the past three weeks I hadn't gone out at all, not even as a man. Not until the salon and shopping two days ago.

Nicole's grip on my hand eased. She even started to stroke it gently, approvingly. I was being a good Courtney.

"My lovely man agreed, and that afternoon Dr. Salzberg gave him the loveliest breasts you can imagine."

"I hope we'll get to see them soon," Ashley said with a smile. I think she was kidding. Maybe only half-kidding? "I love breasts!"

"That's up to Courtney," Nicole replied with a possessive smile at me. "His nipples and areolas are much larger now too. Dr. Salzberg insisted they be kept proportional, so while Courtney was on the operating table and out of the picture she injected them with time-release hormones. Mostly for nipple development on top of the implants, but I've noticed there have been secondary effects on his face and complexion, even on his moods and attitudes. Maybe they helped him accept what happened last night more easily, but no one can be sure of that. As they say, once a woman, always a woman, and in all ways a woman."

The other women were amused by Nicole's aphorism, but my mind was sidetracked. Hormones? I'd been injected with hormones? I hadn't known. Nicole glanced at me without a change of expression, saw I'd absorbed the information without panic, then continued.

"Anyhow, he spent the next few days after the operation in bed. I took care of his little problem at the office, but there wasn't much I could do with him at home until he healed. It hurt him to stand or raise his arms, so I couldn't begin teaching him how to move properly, how to sit or walk or eat, all the things we grow up knowing by watching each other, because we know that we're girls being girls. He'd grown up thinking he was a boy, the poor deprived dear. So we spent his recovery time trying out different make-up styles and working on his voice and discussing what kind of hairdo would suit him best, and meanwhile he slept or else caught up on the piles and piles of women's magazines I brought in to him. He's so marvelous. A natural, really. In only a few days he developed all sorts of special interests of his own in women's things. He not only knows more about this year's beltlines and hemlines than I do, he knows everything there is to know about Angelina and Brad."

Ashley broke in. "I can understand why he'd need to read women's magazines for crucial information," Ashley said. "Like this year's make-up and looking pretty and all that, all the stuff the ads preach that we all need to know if only to maintain other women's respect. And this year's clothing, Lord knows they sell us enough clothing every year to cover the planet. And cooking and flower arranging, all that grace of life stuff every woman has to learn or learn how to fake up, and some of us actually enjoy. Some magazines obsess over those things. But most of what's in women's magazines? Nicole, I mean apart from "Good Housekeeping" and "Better Homes and Gardens" what they publish is how to attract and hold a man, and how to keep him interesting in bed. They sell sex techniques. How to make love to men, hardly ever how to make love to other women, and that's why I've had to quit with practically all of them. Did you expect her to read those kinds of articles, Nicole? To make your girly husband over into an arch-seducer of guys?"**

"Did I, Courtney?"

"You certainly did," I said. I tried an indulgent smile in Ashley's direction, but it didn't feel sincere, so I turned toward the others. "Nicole wanted me to understand how women think and feel about sex so I could understand why they do what they do about sex, especially during sex. Why we do what we do, I mean. That's what she said. I needed to know what's important to women and what isn't, to 'develop my sympathies' or else I wouldn't be fit to join you here. So I read everything she brought me very carefully."

Maureen was delighted. "Good thinking, Nicole! So you learned all about how to fascinate men and lure them into your bed, and then what to do with them once they're there? Have you done it yet? Did you seduce some hapless man last night? Tell us how you feel about it. Are you now gay? Are you a gay man? Or are you a straight woman?"

"I can't say," I replied, deciding to joke back with her. "A gentleman never sullies a lady's reputation, so if I'm both a gentleman and a lady, I won't and I also hope I won't." I smiled, but my answer was serious enough, and I suddenly realized, true enough too. Nicole released my hand and I began to eat my salad, aware for the first time that I couldn't tell them which I was. I'd need to choose soon, before more choices were made for me. Maybe I was neither a gay man nor a straight woman? Maybe I was a gay woman?

At first I'd thought all those articles silly, except for all the calculating and scheming they revealed behind women's demure, innocent smiles. But pretty soon I got fascinated by their quite frank discussions of women's desires, needs, and schemes. By all their talk of enticement and seduction. The articles on how to train -- no, enthrall -- men to satisfy you sexually while they think they're the ones who are seducing you. I found out what lots of women know, that in every man there's an instinct to care for women and serve them, that because they're attracted to femininity they can be attracted to feminine things, they can be feminized and even enslaved, and that if it's done right, they're blissfully content to be slaves and don't even know it. They'll work themselves to death to support you and your offspring, to earn your approval, and count themselves blessed. They call it love.

"Do you think that's you?" Nicole had asked me about such an article as she kissed my face and then ran her hands lightly over my new mounds. Under the surgical bra my nipples shot lightning into my crotch. "Are you a lover of things feminine who's ready to become my contented slave?"

I couldn't deny it altogether. As I sat up in bed, now very much aware of the bulges contained under my nightie, studying the manicure I'd just given myself, Nicole would question me about each article in turn. "Ten hot men for you to perve on" left me cold, but she explained that its purpose was to "authorize" whatever lusts or desires women happen to feel, no matter how improper or bizarre. To awaken fantasy sex in preparation for the real thing. She made me study each male celebrity in turn and decide which one most turned me on. A few had kind faces, so I decided to like them. Those who might once have protected me in the schoolyard, not bullied me, they gave me warm feelings. I told Nicole, and she nodded approval. "It's a beginning," she said.

Nicole cut out their pictures and made a poster for me to look at each night before I went to sleep, to see if I could develop stronger feelings for them, even for the "dangerous" faces, the love 'em and leave 'em men. Then as she stroked my tits she'd asked me to imagine her hands belonged to one of those famous men. After a while, being stroked by a man didn't seem to me at all that repellent. I got to like getting felt up no matter who did it.

In "Five ways to make him do whatever you wish" I recognized some of Nicole's behavior with me, and she confessed it quite frankly, as if woman to woman. "Of course those techniques work on you," she said flirtatiously. "I mean, just look at you!" We both had to smile at that.

"When he suspects you're seeing another man" suggested various ways an unfaithful woman can use that very suspicion to inflame his passions and addict him so he'll even hope it's true. And it suggested several ways faithful women can do the same. Nicole asked me about each point in the article. We played a game in which she teased me about the guys she saw at work or at the gym until I became half-convinced it was more than a game, that she was confessing multiple infidelities. Then with my boner rock hard she'd sit on me and we'd make love. After that she'd ask me to tease her about guys I might be seeing and pleasing sexually. That felt queer, but after a while I didn't mind. It got to be fun. When I told her I was doing this or that thing with them, holding their cocks gently or french kissing them, she'd get excited and mount me then and there as I lay there.

After I read each article she'd question me closely and have me practice whatever the article advised, until I knew exactly what I thought about that advice and what I'd learned was in my reflexes. I learned to flirt without even trying, and I practiced on Nicole until I did it with finesse. "You'll want to get a man so he'll eat out of the palm of your hand," she'd said. "Whatever it is you may be holding in the palm of your hand. It's fun. I do it with you often enough. Sometimes literally!"

"Why all this stress on sex with men?" I asked her. "I only want sex with you!"

"You need to know how we feel about sex," she said. "And even how we feel during sex. And besides," she added with a certain sprightliness and a playful grin, "You're supposed to be learning to be a girl, and a girl never knows who'll be coming into her life, does she?"

At the end of each day of my recuperation, Nicole would gather up the day's magazines, clear the bed, and then lay down next to me. We'd then hug each other carefully, and kiss, and spend an hour or so necking like teenagers. I loved it. It was what women do who love women, and it helped me feel womanly. She gave me my own perfume to use, a light, delicate scent I loved because she loved being near it. We'd caress each other tenderly, running our hands over each other's faces and bellies, and breasts. She was gentle with both of mine until the time came to remove my surgical bra. That morning she unclipped it and slipped the straps off my shoulders, and as I bent forward I immediately felt their vast weight tug at me, those huge globes. I grasped them one in each of my palms to try to lift and support them -- they were heavy! And my nipples had grown, even though it had only been a few days since the operation -- they looked swollen. They looked like Nicole's when she was excited. Tumescent.

"They're all in proportion too," Nicole assured me with a satisfied grin. "As Dr. Salzberg would say. I'm afraid your braless days are over honey. I've gotten you some new blouses and bras, enough for now, and we'll shop for whatever else you may need. But if you mean ever to go swimming again you'll need a modest one-piece bathing suit to cover them. A bikini might be too provocative and attract too many of the wrong sort. Oh, my! Just look at them! They do look good enough to eat!"

She'd sometimes get wildly passionate while playing with them, "the way men do," she explained, especially when she saw how erogenous my nipples had become, how even a slight fingertip touch could put me into a trance. Once we'd begun, we'd caress each other a little lower down too, in very tender places, and one thing would always lead to another. She encouraged me to moan aloud whenever she was mounted on me and rolling her pussy round and round my cock, and that did enhance the experience for both of us. I found myself moaning for more of her, then crying out my joy through orgasm, all without even being aware of it. She joked that maybe she'd next make me into a "screamer" like some women. "That way I'd always know where you are when we're entertaining guests nearby and I can't go looking," she said. She enjoyed that kind of teasing. I appreciated it. It meant she was getting more and more comfortable with my adopted identity, and if she could feel that way, so could her friends.

My mind drifted further into memories of our lovemaking during those three weeks. She'd taught me to kneel alongside the bed while she draped her legs around my neck and tucked her pussy into my face. I recalled her aroma when she was fully lubricated, and the feel of her little nubbin on the tip of my tongue. And my deep pleasure when hefting her breasts while she lifted mine, how they felt so alike, so warm, soft, and heavy. I nibbled my salad quietly and scarcely listened as Nicole described how she made love to my new body, and how I'd respond.

So Ashley's voice startled me when she broke in, exclaiming, "That's exactly how Lauren and I make love! When our husbands are downstairs watching football and doing who knows what else, jerking off or sucking each other's cocks for all we care, we'll be upstairs in bed snuggling and cuddling. Then before we know it we're face down in each other's pussies. We can sixty-nine for hours. Laurie tastes so sweet, and she exudes nectar as fast as I can swallow it!"

She glanced at Lauren fondly. "Last Super Bowl we knew the men would stay close to the tube, so we felt safe and played with our dildoes all afternoon. They were way bigger and much more satisfying than either of our husbands' cocks. We giggled and got really silly about it as we pushed and forced and slid them in and out of each other. Though it wasn't quite so funny during the next two weeks, when we were both still too stretched out to feel our actual husbands' actual pricks. I remember I once had to ask Bill if he was in me yet when he'd been fucking me for ten minutes. He didn't care for that, not at all. But I honestly couldn't tell!"

"Did they ever find out what you two were doing?" Maureen asked.

"You know, that's interesting," Lauren said. "We didn't think so at first. One of them would open the door and look in and ask us something, and we'd say 'just resting, honey, go back to your game,' and they'd say 'oh, OK' and close the door again. Later we found out that they knew and were turned on by it, that they were making side bets which of us would groan or moan louder. The perverts!"

"Well, only that one time," Ashley continued. "And it was no contest -- Lauren's the expressive one, I just breathe hard. But mostly though it never got that intense. Just ... nice. We'd lie there quietly and embrace, and gently kiss each other's noses, and eyes, and lips, and necks, and nipples, and then our fingers would reach over into ...."

"Oh, Ashley, stop it or I'll have an orgasm right here and everyone in the restaurant will hear me express myself!" said Lauren.

"Sorry," Ashley said, though her smile suggested nothing of the kind.

"I'm not," Maureen commented with a salacious grin. "I'm getting wet from all this talk. I think I'll call Enrico when I leave here today, my new ballroom dance instructor, he's a doll. I'd forgotten how nice just plain smooching can be, it so quickly becomes something else. But do go on, Nicole."

"Well," said Nicole, "all right. After the third day Courtney's breasts were healed, so I raised the ante and introduced my new girly man to more racy attitudes. Since I'm a little ... assertive, I wanted my new dear to be just a little more passive, a little more compliant. Girls are so much more attractive when they're submissive. So for openers I had him read a fairly raunchy article I found in WhipsyDaisy. It was called "When guys come on to me, I cum onto them."

I remembered that story well, and also remembered what we did while we talked about it. It was about a girl who loves to dominate men. While Nicole lay alongside me and we talked about how men instinctively submit to women as a way to protect the young of our species (I denied it at first, and said it was just that women are stubborn and men are smart enough not to argue), she coated her hand in skin lotion and reached under my nightie and grasped me and slowly slid her fist back and forth on me. I got hard and began to reach toward heaven. She kept stroking until that old familiar bliss rose from my groin and swelled up into the whole length of my cock and dribbled into the tip and then spewed and spewed and spewed into her hand! As I caught my breath I felt so grateful to her!

She then whispered to me, "Now to enlarge your experience. Women know what cum tastes like -- some love it, some don't. You know I love it, but we're all different. Have you any idea how you feel, how lovely it is to hold a man's cum in your mouth and know you've coaxed it out of him, then to swallow it?"

"No," I had to admit.

"Well," she said. "How fortunate that I happen to have some on hand."

And she held it up and I licked it out of her palm as she pressed it against my face. "This is your first communion," she whispered to me. "It's the same taste as sucking a cock directly, isn't it?" I didn't know, but that wasn't the right moment to discuss what I knew. In fact the flavor was rather pleasant. "I told you," she said. "Out of the palm of my hand!" I had to admit it.

She jerked me off the next night too, and again fed me my squirtings. Then she began to lick and suck each of my nipples as she stroked my cock, and I really went into paroxysms of rapture -- O, God, my breasts were now far more sensitive than they'd ever been -- why hadn't I gotten jugs years ago! Night after night I'd climb into paradise and erupt, and cry out for the sheer rapture of it, and then I'd lick my cum out of her hand gratefully. Twice, maybe three times the same night sometimes! I almost didn't care that pushing myself inside her became incidental, less and less necessary, because my nipples were now my main erogenous areas.

While accustoming me to sex as a woman so I'd know how it feels, she'd talk about how this or that man had come on to her, how she'd imagine him in bed with her, how they'd both cum magnificently. Then she'd ask me to suck his imaginary sperm back out of her, and I'd do so with devotion. Cunt love became my passion. The third week, when she told me to go down on her and bathe my face in her pussy juices, I couldn't get my nose and mouth and tongue into her slit fast enough. "My pussy slave," she murmured affectionately, and I nodded my head against her soaked cunt so vigorously that she went into orgasm then and there with almost no preliminaries.

As my mind drifted in and out of these recesses of memory, Nicole described to the other women various other exercises I'd mastered during my few weeks of training. Dressing quickly for the office and also as if for dates. Choosing the right shades of pantyhose. The names of different styles of skirts, collars, textiles, colors, and patterns of clothes. She told them I'd had no problem getting accustomed to a gaffe -- my cock and balls were so small they tucked away easily, and I agreed that that was fortunate, because I could wear tight pants, shorts, or bathing suits with no problem.

The women smiled to hear it. "That explains so much!" Claudia said, then hushed herself so Nicole could continue.

"Don't embarrass her," Ashley suggested.

"How can a tight cunny embarrass any woman?" Claudia retorted, glancing at me. "All it tells a lover is that her husband isn't keeping her dilated." I smiled back at her and tried to feel pleased that my genitalia were so easily hidden away.

Nicole continued describing my regimen. There were the routine social skills men never develop. How to carry on different kinds of conversations with women I barely know without once referring to sports or politics or the market. How to talk interestingly to men who're staring at my tits the whole time. How to sweet talk to men in authority instead of confronting them as men do. How to ....

"Tell us about the salon," Maureen interrupted.

"Only two days ago," Nicole explained, "he got a full body wax and a facial and his hair colored and streaked and cut into an easy-care pageboy, and a manicure and a pedicure and had his eye make-up redesigned and his lips stained dark red."

That last was news to me, I'd thought the persistent color was the long-lasting lipstick Nicole wanted me to wear day and night so I'd get used to wearing and repairing it without thinking."

"You really meant for me to be a woman pretty much all the time, didn't you?" I asked her, being careful to keep my voice affectionate. "Not 'now and then' the way I'd thought it would be."

The question amused Nicole. "Oh, honey," she said. "Your lovely breasts aren't 'now and then,' so how could the rest of you be? You did want to be one of us, didn't you tell me that?" She looked around the table. "We're not 'now and then' women!"

This seemed to me an evasion, but I let it pass. Nicole continued, telling the girls how I'd loved being in a salon, being pampered, being treated like a rare, exotic beauty queen by the hairdresser and beauticians and operators who fussed over me. And that was true enough. There's no equivalent experience in the worlds men occupy. I'd half-dozed through that pleasant morning at the salon, and now I half-dozed through Nicole's retelling of it.

But I came to consciousness when she began describing our last night's excursion. My "shakedown" cruise, my night spent deliberately cruising for men to show that as a woman I could cope with them as easily as any of the women of the Saturday club. My final exam, so to speak.

"It was exciting," Nicole was saying. "I had a real girlfriend now. With a charming girlish personality all his own. He didn't know it yet, but he wasn't really my husband, not any more, he hadn't been one for some time. So, I thought, his night out is how and when he'll find that out, and deal with it, and accept it. Not all at once. Some of it will be only after we've all accepted him as a woman with all the rights, privileges, and obligations of womanhood. That's when he'll finally understand I don't even think he's a man. Maybe he'll even agree with me then."

These last words shocked me back to the present, and I began listening closely. I stared at her, unable to believe what I'd just heard. I'm not her husband? Not a man?

Nicole continued. "It was time for him to move on. I planned for it to happen in two stages, the first when he experienced a man as a woman, and the second when he experienced other women as a woman. The first in a dance bar, the second here, now."

Nicole noticed I'd emerged from my daydreaming and smiled at me reassuringly. Then she continued as if I weren't there. As if her husband wasn't there, I mean. As if now I was one more member of the club. She even looked at me the way she looked at the other women, as if she expected me to react as they did -- to feel amusement or concern, to nod in agreement, to shake my head in disbelief, whatever. And oddly, as if I were someone else, that's how I reacted. I shared their pity for that poor dupe, that former man she took to that dance bar, she was saying, in order to get him into a man's arms and then get him laid. It seemed the easiest way to listen.

"There was another advantage to going dancing," she was saying. "Since I no longer had a husband, I wanted all the advantages."

We all nodded.

"At least to meet some new men. There are always the men in my office of course, but I didn't mean them, and anyhow they can make for complications. Since Courtney was getting what he wanted, a taste of femininity, I figured I should get what I wanted, a fresh taste of the masculinity he no longer provided me. All openly, all in each other's presence, nothing hidden or underhanded. Because loving is trusting, and we do love each other."

We glanced at each other approvingly. That seemed only fair.

"I'd heard there was this singles bar called 'The Two P's' -- meaning 'Peter and Pussy' after the owner's name and his wife's nickname. It was where they first met, and I suppose they wanted to make it a place where other Peters could meet other Pussies. I heard it has a dance floor and a good band and lots of darkened booths and alcoves where everything that happens isn't necessarily on display, and a heavy-duty bouncer to keep things peaceful. So it seemed just the right place for an outing. Safe enough for two single women -- if some guy got too insistent, after all, I wouldn't have a man with me to protect me, and neither would Courtney. Especially since his hormones had reduced his muscle mass and his aggressiveness some."

I hadn't realized that, but it seemed reasonable. We all nodded our understanding.

"Also, I needed to see how Courtney would behave his first time out socializing. What he'd learned from all the articles he'd read and all the practice I'd given him. I didn't want him to disgrace us when we all met today. If he couldn't be an attractive girl in dim light in a crowd, if he couldn't deal with the social circumstances women deal with daily, then there was no way he should attempt to pass himself off as one of us here or anywhere else."

Claudia broke in. "I've got to say right now, Nicole, you've done a marvelous job on her. I have no problem with her womanliness at all. I mean just look at her! She's poised, gentle, beautifully dressed and groomed, altogether lovely. Well, you are, Courtney, there's no need to blush. She's a little quiet I grant you, but I'm sure she has her stories to tell us. At least about last night."

"Oh, yes. He certainly does."

"So go on. You went dancing at this 'Two P's'?"

"We certainly did."

"You too, Courtney?"

"Yes, me too," I said rather uncertainly. I was beginning to remember more about the evening than I wanted to.

"With each other?"

"No, with men," Nicole replied. "That was why we dressed the way we did. Men bought us drinks and came over to chat with us. You know. Then one asked me to dance, and another asked Courtney."

"Ooooh, now it's getting exciting," Maureen said. "Tell us, what was it like, Courtney, dancing with a man for the first time?" She spoke to me very softly, her voice warm and friendly, as if she were afraid to startle me. Somehow welcoming me ... to what? "It was your first time, wasn't it? Did you enjoy it?"

"Yes. I didn't want to at first, but Nicole told me I had to let a man take me for a few turns around the dance floor to put some mileage on my femininity, that's how she put it. Or I wouldn't be eligible to be one of you. 'Because when we get together we love to dish the dirt,' she said. 'So we need to know what's dishy. Right now you've got nothing to say. You've never even held hands with a man.' So, yes, I did it for the first time, and I enjoyed it."

That wasn't quite true. I wanted these women to be my closest friends, to feel one with them. I needed then as friends. I'd been precipitated into womanhood by my wife and my tits, apparently now also by my job description. From now on my male friends would be dumping me or else hitting on me. These women were the gift Nicole was giving me in return for giving up my male identity, my compensation for my loss of self. So I decided to be honest. "After a while I enjoyed it," I added. "Some."

"Was it when he held you in his arms?"

"That was a little difficult at first. Because he ...." I looked to Nicole for help, but she was just looking at me expectantly like all the other women, waiting. "Because he ... this man ... he held me very close right from the outset. And when he saw I wasn't very good at following him, he told me to press my ... my tummy against his ... pelvis to feel his hip movements and ... and he pushed himself against me hard so I'd know how he meant me to move."

"And that made it easier for you?"

"It sounds like it made it harder," Ashley said dryly. She turned to Lauren. "Remember that time we were dancing together at the club and deliberately weaved our hips so wickedly that all the men watching us were constantly re-adjusting their pants?"

"No, go on," Maureen urged me, her voice still kindly, her eyes almost affectionate. "You loved being held, didn't you? I do."

Strangely, I did. A large, muscular man was holding my waist and moving his body against mine while my arms were wrapped around his neck, my body open to his. He'd now and then rub his chest across my new breasts, and there was only the thinnest fabric covering them. Barely. My nipples stiffened and became fully visible, and they got incredibly ... it was fantastic! I felt like melting.

"You're remembering something," Claudia said in a teasing voice, smiling at me. "Tell us. It's just us girls here."

That sounded reassuring. "Just that I wasn't wearing a bra, and my breasts were only two or three weeks old maybe, and my nipples were getting larger every day, erect all the time, and I wasn't accustomed to the ... delicious feel of things rubbing on them through my dress. And when his jacket pulled my dress open at that plunging neckline and I was fully exposed .... "

"Oooh, lovely, nipple play!" Maureen said. "Every guy knows what that does to us! Once one of my partners ...."

"Go on, Courtney, tell everyone," Nicole said now. "We've all been there. More often than you can imagine."

Everyone around the table was now leaning toward me to hear something sultry, grinning in anticipation. I obliged them. "I ... I got a hard on.'

Maureen spoke. "Oh, dear! Lucky you! Your clit went stiff? So does mine whenever anyone gets near my nipples. So do my nipples for that matter. Also when I know I'm making a man feel hard, and up, and hard up, all three. It's exciting when you know you can do that to a man. Did you?"

"Did I? Make him stiff too? Yes." I spoke in a small voice, barely audible.

"Yes? Oh, of course, that was the first time you ever did that to a man, that's why you're so embarrassed. Well, don't be. I love giving boners. It's your main reward for flirting, the ultimate test whether you're flirting effectively when you come right down to it, as sooner or later every woman does. Your very first time ever, really?"

I didn't like the implication that there would be others. But I had to answer.

"It was the first time I ever gave a man an erection, yes." I spoke with a certain exactitude, as if confessing something indecent. As if I shouldn't have done it. Or should have done it many times by now.

"Could you feel it pressing against you, Courtney? His cock I mean? Feel him trying to get off on you?"

"I guess."

"And did he get off?"

Claudia took pity and rescued me. "What was his name, Courtney?"


"Gary?" She turned toward Nicole. "Nicole, isn't your boss ...?

Nicole broke in. "Did he know when he rubbed against your belly and your tits that he was giving you an erection too, honey?"

"I don't think so. You had me in that gaff, so I was tucked way under."

Ashley broke in. "Sorry, Nicole, I hate to interrupt, but weren't you also on the dance floor with a man you'd just met?"

"Yes. Yes, I was."

"Courtney, how did you feel about Nicole dancing with a stranger. What was his name, Nicole?

"Chris. Christopher."


"I'd say so," Nicole said slowly. "In a rugged kind of way. He was a friend of Gary's, the man who was dancing with Courtney. I got to like him a lot. The way he held me."

I looked up sharply at Nicole. She'd said it in a sensible enough way, no stars in her eyes. And it was true enough from what I'd seen of the two of them and had then tried to forget.

"Rugged is soooo nice," Maureen said. "You can snuggle up into a rugged man and then they feel sort of like the earth itself, lumpy and solid and dependable."

"Did you snuggle up close to him, Nicole?" Ashley continued. Nicole was silent. "Did she, Courtney?"

"More than I thought she had to. I never saw anyone get it together the way they did." I tried to say it jokingly, but my tone of voice didn't match my intentions.

"You should talk, sweetie," Nicole said with a conspiratorial smile, maybe a little forced. "There you two were belly to belly, writhing and twisting on each other as if you were trying to erase your dress. Especially once he got his hand inside your halter and found you weren't wearing a brassiere. Oh, I saw! His slut detectors fired off and his eyes lit up, and things got pretty shameless for you from then on, I'd say. Didn't they?"

"Nicole, I told you, he was holding me tight against him and sliding his cock all over my belly. All I was doing was leaning back trying to get away! He took that as me inviting him to grope me!"

"Yes. And once his hand was on your tit he did something to a nipple that had your eyeballs rolling back in your head. Isn't that so?"

Ashley broke in. "Wait, wait, wait a minute. We'll get back to the seduction of Courtney in just a moment. It sounds marvelous, but there's something else I want to know first. Courtney, there you are watching your beautiful wife dance with a strange, rugged man, and I suppose she's snuggling up to him. She's feeling unmarried, maybe you didn't know that at the time but she knew it, and anyhow you're her girlfriend not her husband so you couldn't exactly confront her or challenge the man to a duel without seeming silly. A woman has her ... natural inclinations and you have to let them ... incline. How did you feel about that?"

Nicole gave me a warning glance. We'd discussed this at breakfast this morning. She'd pointed out that given what I'd done last night, I had no moral right to find fault with her. "Well," I said to Ashley, "I expected something like that when we went out last night. I had to keep in mind that we weren't husband and wife, we were girlfriends out for a good time, having fun, sort of. 'I expect to have fun,' Nicole told me when we left the house. 'And so should you.' So I didn't much mind the fact that they were dancing so close. Well, I did but I tried not to. What bothered me wasn't the dancing, it was that while they were dancing they were ... kissing. They began pecking at each other, trading soft little kisses while they danced. Little by little they clinched and finally their faces were welded together for the length of a whole dance number. And I couldn't do a thing about it. There was my wife making love to a man and there I was in another man's arms getting dry fucked. I felt so helpless."

"He had an incredible tongue," Nicole said, reminiscing. "After a few minutes I wanted to feel that tongue pushing in and out of all my other openings too. It was so exciting! Really!"

Ashley tossed her a quick appreciative smile but concentrated altogether on me. "You saw that, Courtney? You saw them do that?"

"Nicole made sure of it. She danced him over to us and we both watched her, Gary and me both."

"I haven't felt like that since my Junior Prom," Nicole said. "That was when a boy confessed that he'd loved me from afar for years. Winslow, his name was. I got so breathless when he said that I could scarcely tell him it was high time to love me up close. I opened my mouth and my legs and told him to choose which one he wanted to love first."

It occurred to me that Nicole's frequent allusions to different sexual experiences weren't just provocations, goads to torment my jealousy. Rather, now that we were both talking about sex with other men, it was ... she was getting me accustomed to thinking about herself having a sexual life apart from mine.

"So how did you feel about that?" Ashley asked me. "Mad? Inclined to break furniture? Or since you were only her girlfriend, and you saw she was enjoying it, did you hope it would go further? And did it?"

"No. I couldn't do anything. I couldn't move. Gary held my tit in one hand and pressed me so close to him I couldn't wriggle free, though I did try. It was embarrassing! The more I wriggled the closer he held me, and then I wriggled some more, until there came a time when he stiffened and groaned and pulled my whole pelvis and crotch right up tight, tight against him and I could feel his cock throb and throb. And he came against me."

"Yes," Nicole said. "You told me you felt very peculiar, didn't you, watching me kiss another man while a handsome man holds you in his arms and fucks you until he cums."


"In what way peculiar?" Ashley asked, her eyes glowing.

"As if we were both women," I said morosely. "Each with our man. I suppose we were."

"No, he was feeling like a cuckold," Nicole interrupted. "And it excited him, just as it had said in that article. He was watching me being seduced and he loved it. His cock stiffened inside his gaff when he saw me getting hot in the arms of this rugged man, and nothing to be done about it. It turned him on. And the whole time Gary was caressing his nipple and rubbing his own cock against him, and pressing so hard on his crotch that my poor dear began to come apart. He almost came himself"

"Is that true, Courtney?"


Nicole decided to address everyone at once. She turned toward them. "It was a dream come true for Courtney," she explained. "We've played a fantasy game for a long time now. Whenever Courtney can't get it up, maybe it's his third time that night or maybe he's distracted by some problem at the office, we pretend I'm flirting with some other guy and he's just watching. That I'm yielding my body to that man, kissing him the way Chris and I were kissing. Maybe even that my lover has me lying back on cushions and has mounted me and I've wrapped my legs around him and we're pumping into each other ....

"Very interesting," Ashley said. "And that gets you excited, Courtney? Imagining your wife getting fucked by another better man, that gives you an erection? Is that jealousy or envy do you think? Is it that he's fucking her or that he's not fucking you?"

I was silent. Nicole was revealing way too much about our private lives.

"It sounds heavenly!" Ashley went on relentlessly. "There you are. Turned on three-ways! Getting your nipples rubbed, dancing sexily enough to bring off another man in his pants, and watching your wife get it on with Chris."

I swallowed. "No, Gary was the one who was dancing sexy" was all I could think to say.

"It takes two, love. You were rubbing your crotch against his, you say, to free yourself from his grip?"

"Yes." It sounded odd, put that way.

"Likely story. Did you cum?"

I was silent. Nicole leaned over to take my hand. "Honey," she said gently. "This morning, what did you tell me happened next?"

"Well, while you and Chris were kissing I saw you reach down and unzip Chris's pants and take hold ...."

"Yes. And then?"

"Then I couldn't see because ... Gary leaned forward and he kissed me."

"And you were feeling so girly that you kissed him back, didn't you? Very affectionately. Very devotedly. I saw. You saw I was fondling Chris's cock and you stopped watching and you closed your eyes and you wrapped your lips around Gary's tongue and sucked on it with all your heart, didn't you?"

I was silent. Maureen said very quietly, "We're all girls here, Courtney. We've all felt that way. You can tell us."

"Yes," I said very quietly. "I did."

I was so ashamed. I knew I shouldn't have felt that way, but maybe I should have, because last night I was being a girl and girls like kissing men and being kissed back. Maureen had just told me again that I was a girl, we're all girls. And I did feel that way. "Yes," I said again. "I did that."

"It seems to me that Courtney was overdosed by all those women's magazines," Lauren said. "All that reading about how girls make men feel romantic, all that thinking that you're a girl being kissed by different men. Suddenly she found herself being kissed by a hunk of a man, and she became one of those girls in her own mind."

"Yes, that was the whole idea," Nicole replied. "I wanted him so he couldn't help but do that, become a girl in his own mind." Then to me, "Isn't that true? You felt like one of the girls you'd been reading about over and over? The ones who feel themselves gripped by strong men and swept helplessly away by their own passions? Didn't you? Now be very honest. Didn't you? Didn't you love the way you felt that moment?"

"Yes, I did." I tried to deny it to myself but I couldn't. "I loved what I was feeling at that moment. It was .... " I couldn't think how to say it.

"Tell us, sweetheart. We'll understand."

I tried to pull myself together, to explain myself. "My wife was kissing and fondling this Chris right in front of me, and that made me feel very small. Very helpless. I mean, what kind of a man was I, watching that happen, letting it happen to my own wife and not doing anything about it? And in fact I was feeling peculiarly turned on by it, too, excited by it, my wife in another man's arms and pleasuring him. And that was very disturbing. Then when Gary kissed me, that solved it. I wasn't a man at all, I was a woman, an attractive woman, and I was so grateful to Gary for making me feel that I was an attractive woman and I was so perversely excited by what Nicole and Chris were doing that I ... I kissed him back. It was just glorious!"

"And what happened then?" Nicole asked me tenderly. "While you were swept away by this passion. In the full flush of your newfound femininity. Tell us, sweetheart."

"I .... It built and built, the feeling. And I came. I had an incredible orgasm. Deep into my gaffe." My eyes were shut now. I couldn't look at any of the women who were seated around the table, leaning toward me with their amused and fascinated half-smiles. I felt so terribly ashamed! "I came in my panties, same as Gary."

"Yes. You came. Let's be clear, honey. While your wife was making love to another man, a man hugged and kissed you and his kisses and caresses aroused you to climax, and you came. And it felt glorious. Did you love Gary at that moment?"

My eyes came open. "Good heavens, no, Nicole! You know me better than that! You're the only person in the whole world I love. He's a man! It was an accident!"

"Yes, sweetie, an accident, I know that, but I need to know that you know it wasn't love. It's important to both of us. You need to know that what you loved wasn't Gary, it was the way you felt when he held you in his arms and kissed you. That it was the feeling you loved, not the man."

"Yes. That's it, I guess so. Yes. That part I loved."

"And so you should. So I'm in no danger of losing you to him, am I?"

Tears came to my eyes. Had I given her the slightest reason to worry about that? "Oh, no, Nicole! No danger! No way!"

"That's good. Because you didn't love him, you loved his kisses. I'm so happy you know that. Because that's how I felt too about the man I was dancing with. I didn't love him, I loved how he made me feel. There we were, side by side, two women who were feeling romantic and loving it. Now tell us, what happened next?"

"You and Chris were swaying together right next to us, and you said to us, 'I think you two need to go some place more private to take care of things.' I thought you meant maybe clean ourselves up, you'd seen that we'd both cum. Like go to the rest rooms at the far end of the bar. So I said "Yes, all right."

"And then?"

"Gary asked me an odd question. 'You really want to, Courtney?' he asked. 'You're sure?'"

"I didn't quite understand him, it turned out. So I told him, 'Yes, of course I'm sure!' I mean, what was the big deal? My first trip to the Ladies, that was true, but in the privacy of a booth I could wipe myself, try to make myself a little less sticky. And meanwhile Gary would go to the Men's and do the same thing. So what?"

"Courtney, look at me," Maureen said suddenly. I did.

She went on. "So far all you've done is answer questions. As if you were on a witness stand and reluctant to talk. Now, we're all of us excited by everything you're saying. I mean here you are, proving beyond any doubt that you're a girl, that you have all the instincts and desires you need to join us and share your adventures with us the way we share ours with each other. But Nicole has had to pull each answer out of you. That's not right. You should be telling us everything eagerly, sharing it with us. I mean, here's Nicole and a man getting it on and you felt helpless, peculiar. And oddly, turned on by the sight, or the idea. Desiring it to happen. Then a man brings you off and you feel glorious, your word. You felt what millions of women feel all the time. Well, the next time you feel that way, we want to know you'll tell us. That you'll look forward to sharing it with us. That sharing it with us will be one of the things you'll have in mind even while it's happening! An extra pleasure to anticipate having. So take a few deep breaths and then tell us what happened next. Enjoy telling us!"

I did as she suggested. As I was slowly letting out a breath, terribly embarrassed but trying to find words to describe what happened next, Nicole made a suggestion. "Just tell us in as much detail as you can. Whatever, all at once -- let it spill and flow out of you. Just talk and keep talking. We'll all love it."

"Yes," Claudia said. "Here's the story of how a man became a woman, told from the inside. What could be more fascinating? It happened. It's what you are. But what kind of woman? We all want to know what you are, and we want you to know too."

So I took one more breath, and then began.

"Gary danced me to the edge of the dance floor and then took my hand and led me past all sorts of booths and tables to a place at the far end of the lineup of booths where there are all sorts of sofas and cushions arranged to form little alcoves, each one separated from the next by the backs of sofas. An area for people who want to lie down while they drink and chat, I suppose, though what I saw in that dim light were couples lying all over each other with their clothes half off, humping and moaning. He led me into an empty alcove and stood for a moment in front of a sofa heaped high with pillows, and then -- it looked like he just waved his hands in front of him -- his belt buckle fell open and his pants and underwear fell down, and he stepped out of them and stepped back, and lowered himself onto a sofa between two thick pillows. Then he just sat there. I could see his naked cock nested against his pubic hair. It was slack, but very long, and it was still gleaming from the cum that was still coating it and coating his balls and his thighs."

"Mmmmmm!" Maureen said. None of the girls paid her any attention.

"He looked up at me and spoke very gently, and he said, 'Lift your skirt and lower your panties and come sit on my lap, Courtney,' that was what he said to me. 'I want to feel your bum sliding on me.'"

He wanted me to put my cum-coated bottom on his cum-coated lap? But would my gaffed genitals stay hidden?

"'I know,'" he said cryptically. "'I felt your clit explode earlier. I won't tell anyone if you won't. A girl is as a girl does.'"

"If he meant what I thought he meant, I didn't feel embarrassed, I felt relieved. O well, I decided, if he doesn't care why should I? If I'm a girl I can sit on a boy's lap for goodness' sake! So I dropped my panties and kicked them away -- they were pretty yucky, remember -- and I started to sit down on his lap the usual way, sideways. 'No, honey,' he said. 'Straddle my lap facing me. Get as close to me as you can. Sit on my thighs. Pretend you're a sex-crazed whore with a starved cunt.'"

"When he talked dirty to me like that, it made me feel deliciously dirty. Me a whore with a starved cunt? So I did that, I hiked my skirt around my waist, and sat down on his lap straddling him. Just for a moment, I thought. My bum against his thighs felt slippery, lubricated by our spent cum, so I braced myself by putting my hands on his shoulders -- they were so heavy, so well-muscled, and I could feel how hard they were. Then I leaned forward and draped my forearms on them, and felt quite comfortable."

"'Kiss me, Courtney,'" he said next. And he took me by my arms and pulled me toward him, then wrapped both arms around me. We kissed each other. I felt so tender toward him at that moment. I didn't want it ever to end. So I kissed him again. Then I took his head between my hands and kissed him a third time. Deeply. My heart was swelling toward him. It felt perversely wrong yet so marvelous!"

The women were all leaning forward and listening, utterly absorbed, their eyes fixed on my face, not moving. The waiter came with dessert menus, but not one of them noticed. He went away. Ashley and Lauren were holding hands tightly, and Nicole was holding her head up proudly as she listened. After her three weeks of intensive work with me, this was my maiden performance, and it was clear that she thought I was doing wonderfully well.

"When I took my tongue out of his mouth and leaned back, I was so very pleased to see the expression on his face. He looked rapturous. I thought, that's what a woman can do to a man! Suddenly he lifted his hands and undid my halter straps from around my neck. I was delighted -- I'd aroused him! They fell down to where the rest of my dress was already loosely bunched around my waist. I don't have the reflexive awareness other women have, not yet. My chest is bare, that's all I registered. But then I realized that my breasts were bare, vulnerable, hanging from my chest and open and exposed to that man's eyes and hands. And his mouth. My hands leaped up to cover them, but too late -- his eyes, hands, and mouth all got there first. For the first time in my life there was a man at my breasts, caressing and kissing them. For the first time in my life I felt the physical pleasure that provides and I was overjoyed, ecstatic that I had soft breasts to offer him. My whole body dissolved in bliss. I clasped his head to me as if it were some precious baby's head, and kissed the top of it tenderly as he nursed on me."

Maureen turned and said something to Nicole. Nicole nodded, never taking her eyes off me. Both of their eyes were shining.

"'Baby, wrap your legs around me' he whispered to me from somewhere between my nipples. I did, not hesitating a second, and locked my ankles around his waist. Then easily, effortlessly, he tilted my pelvis toward his and his cum-lubricated penis slid along my crack and bulged for a moment at the door to my ass, my sex-crazed, starved cunt, and then slipped into it. Before I knew it had happened he was inside me! Without being asked I rocked my rear back and he slid all the way in."

"Oh, baby," said Ashley.

"Now I felt full! Full, filled, fulfilled is what my ass chanted to me. Then I rocked toward him and he slipped almost out, and I pushed down and he slipped back in, and we were fucking! His lips and tongue caressed my nipples, blessing each in turn, and his cock moved in and out of me, and I went into a daze. We could have done it for hours -- I wish we had. But finally he pushed himself deep into me and lifted himself up and crammed in, way inside and he pulsed and I felt warmth all through my pelvis. I felt turned inside out as he squirted into me and I squirted into my gaffe and all over myself. Again. I couldn't help it. In fact as soon as it happened I tried to help it happen again. I started wriggling my bottom on him, but he shrank and his penis plopped out of me and his semen began to trickle out and I realized that I had pleased him, my lover, and also that I was no longer a virgin, and that I had loved it. I loved being a woman with this man. He lounged back on the sofa, my legs still wrapped around his waist, and I fell forward on top of him, and one of my breasts again pressed into his mouth. Once again I was nursing him. Oh, bliss! I wanted to stay like that forever."

The women were all listening closely, very respectfully, almost in awe. "When do we get to the hot parts?" Lauren asked, but very quietly, so as not to change the mood.

"Well, I was euphoric, and I thought I heard Nicole's sweet voice singing just behind me, saying, 'That was so beautiful, sweetheart. But there's more. There's more a woman can do for her man.'"

"That woke me up. What could that voice mean? I was so closely concentrated in all my mind and heart on my first fuck ever that I'd forgotten everyone and everything other than Gary. He was my world. But of course, my wife had followed us here. I looked over my shoulder and there she was, sitting on a couch with Chris just inside our little alcove. They each had an arm around the other and they were both looking across at us through the gloom. Smiling! Approving! They'd been watching the whole thing? She'd seen me being unfaithful to her with this Gary and she'd just sat there? But no, I hadn't been unfaithful to her, my cock had remained where it belonged. She seemed to understand this."

"'Suck his cock, honey,' she advised me in a kindly voice. 'It's such a nice cock. It felt good inside you, didn't it? Suck him, pay your respects, fill your tummy, and then we can go home. It's getting late.'"

"I was befuddled, but what she told me seemed as innocent and sensible as a mother telling her little girl to finish her ice cream. So I unwrapped my legs from Gary and straightened my dress some -- actually I refastened the halter straps so I'd be decent again, and then got down on my knees and found his limp cock in the gloom between his legs, exactly where it had been before, and I wrapped my mouth around it. It tasted of cum, a little different from my own but the same sort of thing plainly. Also not unpleasant, especially considering where that cock had just been. He'd now cum twice, and I knew that bringing him to a boil a third time might not happen. But I'd make him cum again if it were at all humanly possible. Because he'd made me feel so good, and my beloved wife wanted me to, and I loved her, and I owed her ... my womanhood, everything!

"And?" Ashley asked breathlessly, her eyes wide open.

Somehow, her eagerness to hear more broke the spell. A few of the women laughed lightly. "So I did it," I told her with a twinkle. "It took a long time, but I managed. I always do what my wife asks me to do, don't I?"

"Oh, don't tease," Nicole said. "Just tell us what it was like."

"Gary just lay back and didn't move, watching me. His prick was all mine. At first it was like holding a limp hot dog or a fat noodle in your mouth. A warm, soft tube. But I knew it belonged to my first lover, the stalwart man who had taken my cherry, and I was now his forever, so I was grateful to it as I kissed and tongued it. Then it seemed he was only a man who couldn't get it up, and I was a woman he needed desperately to help him get hard, so I felt a little sorry for him. And a little responsible, too. And desperate for more. So I sucked and licked and sucked, and ...."

Again Ashley couldn't wait. "And?"

I looked at her sweetly. "What do you think? He was a man. Little by little he firmed up and came erect, and I sucked him up and down his length and over and over, and he got to be huge, my God how did I ever get that thing into me I was wondering, and I clamped my lips as far down on him as I could reach, and I jerked him off frantically below wherever my lips couldn't reach, and finally he spurted repeatedly into my mouth. Not a lot, but even though it was a little salty, to me it tasted sweet, you know? So sweet! Then he pulled it out by himself and lay there on the cushions watching me, his cock shrinking for the last time in my presence, and I looked him amused in the eye while he looked equally amused back at me, and then slowly, deliberately, I swallowed it all. All of him went into my tummy. I felt so good! I was a cocksucker and the most wanton of women, and I'd brought off my man three times! What women could do better than that?"

"'Now I'm digesting you,' I told him solemnly. 'Your sperm, your little half-babies. They are all becoming partly me.' I paused and then said, 'And partly my crap.'"

"Well, he laughed out loud. 'I suppose you're right,' he said. "'Don't get pregnant on me now!'" And he kissed me gently as I started to look around for my purse."

"It was only when we were on the way home, Nicole driving, that I realized what had happened to me, all in one night, and began to freak out. Clearly I was no longer the trained crossdresser who had entered that dance bar with my wife. Who was I? 'Sweetheart,' Nicole said to me. 'You've just been fucked and your tits have been sucked, and you've felt loving and maternal. And you are now a skilled cocksucker -- not many of us can bring a man off three times in under an hour. All with a man you just met, and remember, he paid for your drinks and you accepted them, so just as he said you're now also a whore, sort of. Now, are you still a man? Do you still feel like a man? If so, you do know I hope that you're now a gay pervert with two impressive credentials on your chest. Or instead, are you a woman?'"

"I honestly couldn't say for a moment. I was a man who'd always wanted to look like a woman and feel like one. But if I'd been a man with Gary I'd been a gay man at least for the time it took for me to have sex with him, because I'd loved it. As a gay man, then as Nicole said, I was now a well-fucked, well-rounded cocksucker, not bad for one night. But being a gay man had no appeal at all for me. And I hadn't once felt like one. I hadn't let that man fuck me, nor had I sucked him, because I wanted him as a man. I'd done it because I wanted him to make me feel like a woman. And he'd done it! Just that! I did feel like a woman when his prick sank into me and began slipping in and out, and it had felt marvelous! And when I returned the favor by sucking on him, I don't know who enjoyed it more!"

"I was now much more of a woman than I'd ever intended or wanted to be, I realized. All along I'd wanted to be just woman enough to be accepted by this luncheon group, no more. Well, it took more than that, apparently. I realized for the first time that as Gary had fucked me and sucked on my tits he'd nudged me over the line. Was I still masculine in any way? No way! I felt authentically feminine. My gender had changed. I'd been a loving woman the whole time with him. I still was."

"'I'm a woman,'" was what I told Nicole.

"Nicole seemed to stifle a sob, and she suddenly pulled over to the side of the road and stopped. I looked ahead at the dark, empty highway, lit only by our car's headlights, and realized it was now very late at night. Then looked over at her. Her eyes were streaming. For sorrow? For joy? She looked closely into my eyes and recovered her breath. We were silent for a moment or so."

"'Yes,' she said. "I thought as much while I was watching you, but it had to be you who realized it and accepted it, not me. You're a woman, Courtney. You know that now. I'm so glad. I'd so hoped that's how you'd end up.' She leaned over and kissed me gently on my mouth. I kissed her back. For a moment there was nothing more we could say to each other."

"And she started the car again. The rest of the way home I felt proud of myself, even though my rear end still felt ... stretched. Or maybe because of it. When we got home and into bed, both of us in our nightgowns, she wrapped herself around me and just as Gary had done I sank unto her pussy effortlessly, and we rocked ourselves back and forth until we both came.

"That's three times for you too," Maureen said. "If I haven't lost count."

"Then when I sucked and licked my cum out of her, she didn't taste familiar, exactly. Not any more. Or rather, I didn't taste like me. My cum tasted more like Gary's, though different. 'Yes,' Nicole said. 'You'll find that. Gary was your first man, so now I'm afraid Gary's is your model for the flavor of cum. Not your own. It's likely that from now on you'll be tasting variations of Gary no matter whose cum you find in your mouth.' That sounded like an odd thing to say, so I just looked at her with my head cocked questioningly. 'Your cum is no longer the center of your world, baby. It's there, but it's only one more man's cum, and different from Gary's, that's all." I waited, and she added, 'Because you're a woman' by way of explanation. And that answered all questions. She nodded, and then fell asleep."

I stopped talking. Everyone was silent for a moment.

Finally Maureen spoke. "That's really remarkable," she said. "My ex used to say that when a woman's unsure of herself what she needs is a good stiff dick to straighten her out. I'd always thought that was an insult. But here's Courtney, who thought she was only a crossdresser, and last night a good stiff dick straightened her out and told her what she really is. No wonder she wanted to suck that cock afterward. In gratitude. To return the favor, so it too could feel like what it really is. And I guess it did, too."

"I think you're right, Maureen," Ashley said. "Courtney, did you hear yourself just now when you were describing how it felt to be fucked? That wasn't a man talking who's suddenly discovered he's gay, that he likes to feel a guy inside him. That was a woman talking, who's suddenly discovered she loves pleasing a man so in return he'll make her feel like a woman. A well-fucked woman, one whose heart swells at the very thought that he cares for her, at least while his cock is still inside her. A woman who feels her need so strongly that she gave that man her virginity, the one gift a woman can give to a man once only. And what he gave you in return was your true gender. Your womanhood. From here on out, anyhow."

She saw that Lauren was shaking her head at the sound of all this hifalutin' talk. "Well, it's true," Ashley added. "I felt that way once, toward Eddie, the boy I gave up my own virginity to. Eventually gave it up. When he'd licked me longer than any other boy had ever licked me, I knew he had to be the one. I was crushed a few months later when he told me he'd quit with girls altogether, he'd found out he was gay. I thought it must somehow be my fault. He told me no, not at all, he'd always suspected it. To cheer me up, he reminded me that I would remain unique in his life. He may have been my first boy of many, but I'd always be his one and only girl."

She looked up at me cheerfully. "And Gary's your one and only man, so far," she said.

"I'm married, Ashley," I reminded her, feeling a little defensive. I'd been carried away, maybe.

Nicole suddenly spoke up with a certain vehemence. "Yes you are, girlfriend!" she said emphatically. "And that's why no matter who you spend the night with from now on, I'm the one you'll always come home to. And no one else! And don't you forget it!"

Before I could work that through, Nicole leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. "Welcome to the club, honey" she said to me quietly. "That was a beautiful inaugural story. We all take turns, you know. Every Saturday, one of us tells us about some special guy or gal she's been with during the week. Not always sexually but that too. This one was your Saturday, and you were wonderful. You really are one of us now."

And she stood up. She lifted her wine glass. I saw it still had some wine in it, and as the other women picked up their glasses I saw they'd left some in theirs. They'd known there'd be a ceremony of some kind. My glass had been emptied long before, but I reached for it anyway. Nicole touched my arm and said in a low voice, "No, honey, this is for you. What we saved in our glasses is to toast you."

I looked up puzzled, to see Nicole raise her glass and say to everyone, "To my ex-husband, my new, dearest, fabulous girlfriend Courtney. You girls were right, I didn't have to leave him in order to live my own life. Now I intend to live it with her. Little by little Courtney has become everything I wanted her to be, and last night she proved that's who she is. May all her days be as wonderful and all her nights as marvelously enriching. We look forward to many more stories as spellbinding as today's. Courtney, welcome to the club!"

Then each of the women in turn raised her glass and looked me in the eye and repeated "Courtney, welcome!" Ashley added, "We all love you, sweetheart!" And everyone ceremonially sipped. I sat there, pleased and flushed but also a little confused. This group wasn't just for lunch and casual gossip? Well, it was, but the gossip wasn't about other people's ... indiscretions but their own? What did that mean? Nicole had been a member for a long time. She'd told the other women about her own other ... indiscretions? Had there been any? Many? What kind?

Nicole sat down and everyone applauded me, and the few people still seated at the surrounding tables looked over to see what the fuss was. I looked around and nodded thanks to everyone shyly, embarrassed, but my heart glowed. I'd been accepted. I really was one of them. No longer an imitation woman in my own eyes, and in theirs not merely a hanger-on or a mascot. One of them. I suddenly realized that for the first time Nicole had referred to me the way all the other women did, with feminine pronouns. She'd called me "she" and "her." Even in her own mind I'd arrived. I was now her 'dearest, fabulous girlfriend.' I felt fabulous now! What could I say? "Thank you," I said simply to the whole circle, bobbing my head down modestly, just as I'd been taught.

And instantly, general chatter broke out. It was different from the earlier talk -- now it was lively and naughty. Because now I wasn't an outsider any more, I was one of them.

Maureen was telling me how she'd done something like what I'd done
-- "I've gone orgasmic myself on the dance floor, twice with a cock that slid past my panties and ended up inside me, only once by riding on the man's leg -- but that way what girl doesn't go ballistic? It was in a dance contest, with all the judges watching, too! Two of them nodded at me, and when the board declared me a winner those were the two I took on immediately afterward! A win-win situation for all three of us!"

Ashley congratulated Nicole and murmured something inaudible that Nicole answered, "Of course in her ass, where else for now?" and then later, "I expect so, but that'll be up to her!"

Claudia told Lauren that she'd finally dildo-broken her husband and would soon tell us all about it. She'd want advice about arranging for his membership in a gay "Men's Club" she'd heard about, only swinging dicks need apply. "A muscle bar where they'll break him in and keep him busy. I need him out of the way weekends, now and then."

Lauren declared, "Courtney, this has been the best sendoff luncheon I've ever attended."

A puzzling way to congratulate me. I asked her, "What does that mean, 'sendoff'?" and she replied twinkling, "You'll see. Fucking fantastic! Mostly because you're fantastic. Who'd have guessed? You were such a boring man not so long ago!"

Nicole was now studying the check for the luncheon, scarcely listening to anyone. "Courtney had the salad and one glass of wine. I'm paying for her this time, she's my guest, but next Saturday she's on her own." I glowed as I realized that again I was "she" in her eyes, and my membership was assured. She was talking about her new girlfriend. Me. That was who I was. A "she" not a "he." At home, at work, everywhere, and I'd never be a "he" again. I felt good. Though a little uneasy.

"Will I ever be a 'he' again?" I asked her.

"You can try," she replied, scarcely lifting her eyes off her calculations, then returning to them. "But with those boobs? Don't be silly. You might have deluded yourself these past few weeks, but no, not a chance. You don't really want to, do you? What fun would that be?" She looked at me a moment longer to confirm that I understood her, then looked back down at her pad. A discussion began who'd had the quiche and who'd ordered -- shame on her -- the bacon cheeseburger. And so on. Money gathered in the middle of the table. "Pot right," Claudia finally remarked.

But everyone suddenly began looking over my head and Nicole's at someone who must have come up just behind us. "Oh, hi," Maureen said to someone over my head, with the very same calculating come hither look Nicole had wanted me to cultivate. The kind that melts men down, she'd assured me when I couldn't imagine ever wanting to do anything of the sort. Claudia looked up and broke into a grin. "Speak of the devil!" she said. "For some reason we were all talking about you earlier. Courtney mostly!"

"Hi, ladies!" a familiar man's voice replied genially above my head. "Ready, Nicole? We're running a little late, I've been hanging back waiting for you all to finish. We don't want to miss our plane."

"No, we don't," Nicole said, rising and turning toward him. "In case you've been wondering, everything here has worked out perfectly this afternoon. I'm still married but I have no husband, instead I live with my marvelous new girlfriend. Just as we'd hoped. Bye everyone! Bye sweetheart. Back next Sunday to tell you all about it! Remember, we have a date for brunch!" She kissed the top of my head and slipped behind me.

I turned and saw her leaving the area rapidly, arm in arm with a tall man, only the backs of their heads visible as they disappeared around the bar and out the door.

"That Gary!" Ashley said. "I love you, Lauren, and I'm even getting to appreciate my Bill, now that he's finally willing to eat any the occasional cream pie I may pick up on the way home. But I'd love to be in Nicole's bed all of next week, collecting that really quality cum for my lovely hubby to suck out of me. Especially next week when I imagine she'll be dripping like a faucet!"

This was bewildering. "What?" I asked. "Where'd she go? Who was that?"

Lauren was amused, and chided me. "Why, Courtney baby! You should know better than any of us."

"Lauren," Maureen cautioned her. "Don't be mean. Remember, Courtney never did see the back of his head last night, and just now she never got to see the front of it. And his cock was hidden. So how could she possibly recognize him?"

Claudia took pity on me. "That was Gary, honey. Your very own Gary. Nicole's boss. The same guy who danced up a storm inside you last night."

"What ...! Wha...!"

"Short form," she continued. "He and Nicole are flying to Bermuda this afternoon. As planned. Last night he made her husband disappear and qualified her girlfriend to join us, and this luncheon has been her sendoff as well as your inaugural. She'll be back next Saturday, too late for our meeting next week but in time for your brunch on Sunday. You heard her."

"Why ... What?" was all I could get out. My heart had fallen into my stomach, I could barely breathe. "She loves me, I know it!"

"She certainly does. That's why she wanted your first lover to be Gary and no one else. Because she loves you, that's why. She wanted Gary for your first so you can understand fully how she feels when she's with him. Because he's the best. Anyone in his arms becomes all the woman she can be, almost all at once. Didn't you?"

Lauren said, "Well, it was also precautionary, getting Gary to fuck you before you found out about them. There were fears that you might suffer a macho relapse and try to defend your mate in some primitive way when Gary came here to take her to the airport with him. You can hardly try to whip another man's ass when he already owns yours, and has already come and gone inside it. "

Claudia caught a waiter's eye. "Waiter, a large cognac for this lady please!" She gestured toward me, and as the waiter left she added in a low voice, "Your turn with Gary was last night, honey. It's her turn now. Remember, you aren't Nicole's husband, not any more. You're her girlfriend. You can't be both. She told you that just now in her welcoming toast, and you loved hearing it. It never occurred to you that she meant it?"

"No," I said in a small voice.

"Why did you think she's been calling you 'he' all this time? Surely you noticed. In front of all of us. Out of meanness? She saw your transformation last night at first hand, she above all knew that you'd come over to our side. But how well did you know it? She was giving you a way back to your own manhood if you'd insisted, reassuring you that you'd still be acceptable to her as a man -- a kind of a man -- by continuing to call you 'he.' You never made a move that way. So in her toast she called you 'she' for the first time, and we all saw your whole face light up! Meaning she's now accepted you as a woman and that's what you are and that's what you want, too. And in her mind, now there's no way back for you."

She nodded, staring solemnly at me. I nodded too, unaware of it at first.

"Your manhood's gone, honey. The moment Gary's cock went into your ass? No, not then, because that might have been an accident, even though you enjoyed it. Not even the moment you took his cock into your mouth, though that was no accident. That was when you ceased to be her husband and became something else. You told her what that something else was when she was driving you both home. Not a gay man but a free woman. A perfect companion for her. I'm sure when you told her that she cried for joy, didn't she? Because that opened up her life to all sorts of new possibilities, and it meant no more secrets, that she wouldn't ever have to leave you as she'd so desperately feared when her affair with Gary heated up a month or so ago."

"A month or so ago?" I repeated numbly. An affair with Gary?

"Do you know when you really became a woman in her eyes, Courtney? When at last she believed it? Not until just now, when you told us all how Gary fucked you and you sucked him, that was when you became a woman in her eyes and all of ours. Because of the way you told us. That was the evidence. And that was that. That's what you are."

The other women had been gathering their things and preparing to leave, but now they paused. This was too intriguing. They stood or sat down again, attentive to Claudia and looking at me with what was plainly both affection and sympathy. The restaurant was now almost empty.

I couldn't say anything.

"Honey," Claudia said softly. "You haven't lost her. She's very concerned about you. She asked me to explain things and answer all your questions and provide you with every conceivable reassurance."

"And for all of us to offer you every conceivable consolation, too," Ashley piped up. "You and I can do lots of girl on girl things together that will make you feel very good, sweetheart, I can assure you of that, now that you're eligible. Lauren told Nicole she will too, if she thinks you're girl enough for her! She wasn't sure."

"I'm sure now," Lauren said.

I swallowed, trying to catch up. "Gary is Nicole's boss?"

"Yes," Claudia replied in a kindly way. She knew how slowly this needed to sink in. "Also her boyfriend. He gave her those diamonds you wore last night in gratitude the day after they first slept together. She's worn them proudly the way you did last night. They're a sign that Gary's been hers, and he's now yours too. She and Gary have wanted to go away together ever since, but Nicole loves you and she wouldn't hear of it unless you were altogether out of the picture. 'I won't have my Courtney going crazy with jealousy or resentment,' she said. 'And I won't break his heart. I want us to stay married forever, and to keep loving each other forever too.'"

"I remember that speech," Maureen said. "I wish I could feel that way about any man."

"There was more to it," Claudia said. "Nicole then added, 'But I do want to spend a full week wrapped around Gary with that cock of his inside me the whole time and thinking about no one else.' She asked us how she could manage it, and we all put our heads together and came up with the answer. Offer Courtney his dearest dream, the one he'd told you about way back. Make him eligible to be one of us."

Ashley put her hand on my arm. "You know what Nicole told me just before Gary showed up? She said, "Courtney will understand. She knows how it is. She doesn't love Gary either, but she does love how Gary makes her feel. She's a woman. I could see it while she was dancing with Gary. Even before Gary fucked her."

"She said that?" I was speechless.

"You said it too, honey. Nicole made sure you said it and we all heard. You know the difference between loving a man and loving how a man makes you feel."

"I guess."

"I imagine you do, especially after last night," Claudia said, looking up at me now from under half-closed eyelids, appraising me. "That's how she feels. After spending three weeks helping you undermine your own manhood, she wants a full week with Gary's manhood because of the way she feels when she's with him."

"I see."

"Maybe you don't. He's a very nice guy. Gary needed his own assurances too. He wanted no repercussions. He didn't want you to feel jealous or to resent him when you learned that he and Nicole were going off to do their own things together. Well, Nicole brought that problem to us too, and we all talked about it. 'I can't ask Courtney to sign an agreement allowing another man to fuck me,' she told us. 'So what can I do?'"

"We all talked and talked and agreed finally that the only way was to make it too embarrassing for you to protest. How? Nicole decided to ask Gary how, and the answer came back right off. 'He wants to pretend he's a woman? Get him to suck my cock and actually do it,' Gary told her. 'Then he can hardly complain. You'd be in a better position to complain than he would. He might even like it!' Gary also told her that once you'd done that, sucked his cock, he'd lose his own last shreds of guilt for taking another guy's wife away from him. Whenever Nicole was coming down from an orgasm he'd realize he was depriving you of that moment with her, and that would injure his fun. A little, anyhow."

Claudia smiled at me to signal that maybe she believed he had a conscience and maybe she didn't. Then went on. "Nicole told him that even though you're a crossdresser, an imitation woman, it might not be possible to bring you any further. But they both hoped it would be possible. It had to be done. 'Because I don't love you, I love Courtney,' Nicole told Gary. 'I want him to want me to go with you, but he'll never go that far. Maybe he'll be reconciled to it though, after he's sucked your cock. Not feel too bad about it. Feel that in a way he's sharing you with me. Maybe you can compensate him by fucking him too?' Then Nicole asked him, 'Are you willing to go along with that?'"

"'For you, yes, if that's what it takes,' that's what Gary said. That's what Nicole told us. He also told her he'd never gotten his cock sucked by a man before, and didn't care for the idea, but he could see how it did fit everyone's purposes. 'Maybe even Courtney's,' Nicole told us she told him. 'Maybe Courtney's more of a woman than any of us think, given his stated ambition.' And there she wasn't wrong, Courtney! Anyhow, she took the problem back to us, and we all talked about it, and it was obvious that was the path to follow."

"What stated ambition?" I asked.

"The one Nicole told us. 'He's wanted to be a girl among girls for so long, let's make him one!' That ambition. We all saw the possibilities. If Nicole could qualify you in only three weeks, we could initiate you the very Saturday Nicole and Gary begin their week in Bermuda. Then Nicole could leave feeling comfortable that she wasn't betraying her man. Because you wouldn't be her man, not any more. And she'd be leaving you in good hands. Ours."

"Yes," Lauren said. "I didn't want a crossdresser having lunch with us and telling us fancy stories he makes up. We all wanted a real woman, someone we can sense is real, telling us things she's really done."

"We all insisted on that," Claudia said. "And now that's what you are. And that's what you've done."

"I see," I said. Finally, I did see.

"You can't tell us you didn't enjoy Gary's cock when it finally happened," Ashley said. "You gave him a private sendoff of his very own, didn't you?"

I nodded my head. I had enjoyed it. In my feminine trance, I'd loved it! Sucking on the cock that had been fucking my wife for months and had just fucked me too? Not knowing it of course. Not till the next day, today. I couldn't deny I'd enjoyed it.

"I feel for you, honey," Lauren said. "I don't much care for men myself, but I do associate myself with one for respectability's sake. I suppose you will too now that you've had sex with one and Nicole has burned your bridges behind you."

"I can't say." Why just one, I was thinking. Morosely.

"Gary told us that when he and Nicole get back from Bermuda and you have your first Sunday brunch, he'll be glad to come over and let you suck him off again. Until you can find guys of your own to help you keep feeling you're a woman. And meanwhile, we can help you keep feeling like a woman. Lauren and I, we have our ways," Ashley said.

"Chris said he'll call this evening," Maureen offered, seeing that I wasn't responding positively to all these revelations. "He likes you. He was only helping Gary out as a friend last night, when he kissed and groped Nicole to turn you on. But what he saw of you and Gary together was impressive, he said. He's naturally bisexed, he didn't need to be persuaded the way Gary did. He'd love to cheer you up while Nicole's away, if Ashley and Lauren allow you any free time for him."

I had nothing to say to that. I was too close to tears.

Claudia saw it first, that I was beginning to come apart. "Now look here, Courtney!" she said sternly. I looked up.

"Let's get a grip! You've now fulfilled several favorite fantasies. You're a girl now. Isn't that so? Answer me!"

"Yes," I replied.

"And you're accepted as such by other women, one of them your former wife, the woman you still love and live with."

"Yes," I replied.

"And you know you'll be living as a girl from now on. Not just on Saturdays."

That was true. Nicole had seen to that when I'd gotten my new boobs and she'd outed me at my office so it would be embarrassing for me not to be a girl there. I had to be a girl. I hadn't quite realized the full implications. It had all been a delightful game for me, but she'd known from the beginning, and now it was serious.

"And your wife loves knowing you're a girl now, right?. Answer me!"

"Yes. It does seem so."

"Never doubt it. And she loves you too, right?"

"I guess."

"Never doubt that either. But now, it's as her girlfriend that she loves you."


"And right now she's off with another man?"

"Yes. So it seems."

Claudia ignored that last. "Though you remain the dearest of her girlfriends."

"Yes," I said. That was so.

"So look at the situation. She's made every accommodation to your desires. Given you everything you wanted and more. Don't you think you owe something to her? And to yourself? To find a man on your own, or men, to prove to her that all her work with you all these weeks hasn't been in vain? To show all of us that your conversion was real, and your pleasure with Gary was no accident?"

There was a long pause after that one.

"We all do it, Courtney. That's what we meet every Saturday to talk about. Except for Ashley and Lauren, they have each other and their own special relationships. Even so, they always see to it that their husbands screw them just before they visit each other, because they really enjoy eating cream out of each other afterward."

Ashley broke in. "And as I've said, I'll fuck other men now and then to keep my pussy supplied with cum when Bill is between my legs sucking it out of me," said Ashley. "To keep him feeling humiliated and under control, knowing that we're lesbian cunts and he can't do anything about it. We'd both love for you to join us," Ashley said in all sincerity.

"Would you want to soon?" Claudia asked. "Or would you rather that someone else fix you up with a man? Any one of us can, now that you're one of us. And there's always Chris, too.

I said nothing. These were extraordinary choices being pressed on me.

"All right. We'll arrange something with Chris first of all. For tomorrow, Sunday night, to put you in the right mood to enjoy Monday, your first day at the office as a working woman. Just the two of you, dinner and dancing, nothing you don't feel like doing. It'll be good for you, and it may even give you something to talk about when we meet next week."

Finally, I cracked. What else could I do? I was only a woman. Past the point of return. 'If you drop it, pick it up and move on' had always been my motto. "All right," I said. "Yes. I'd like that."

"Good!" Ashley exploded. "Nicole wants us to keep you busy with men so she won't have to deal with any female rivals for her affections. Except for us of course, me and Lauren, because being partly lesbians, we're safe. We'll visit you Monday evening to find out how things went at work, and then we can find out if your cunt licking is as good as Nicole says."

I nodded. This was almost altogether past me.

"And now, Courtney, now that we're finished with lunch, let's go shopping! With all our plans, Nicole's wardrobe won't be enough for you. You're going to need a lot more of everything of your own I think."

I did. That was months ago, and I don't any longer, though I'll still buy pretty things to refresh my closet now and then. I do see Chris still, and I did date Gary once on my own when Nicole happened to be out of town -- she suggested it more for his sake than mine I suspect, so he wouldn't be lonely for her. So I fully understand why she loves the way that cock makes her feel -- it works for me too. But for me that's not enough. Now and then I've used my seduction techniques on Ashley's Bill and Lauren's husband too, as a friendly favor to them, mainly get their men out of the way and occupied when they have things they want to do with each other. I know men. I once was one.

"A man made me a woman. But it isn't other men, it's other women that keep me that way. Especially the women of the Saturday Luncheon Club. I love every moment I spend with them collectively, individually, and intimately. Not only have Ashley and Lauren brought me into frequent threesomes, cherishing my pillowy breasts and my pre-heated dildo, but Maureen has been teaching me how to dance in bed, and Claudia and I together are frequent companions at plays, movies, concerts, tetes a tetes, and body to bodies. And the girls at work? Most of them don't think of it at all as cheating on their husbands and boy friends when they take me to bed with them. In fact some of their men hit on me too when we meet, and when that happens, we'll all of us giggle together about it the next day at lunch.

I've wondered if, without my knowing it, this is what I really wanted when I first craved acceptance as a woman by a group of women who met for lunch. Maybe I became a woman not because I wanted to be one or thought one but because I wanted to get as close to femininity as I could, to get as intimate with it as I could, penetrate it, get so close that it would penetrate me and become part of me. Becoming a woman offered me the greatest intimacy with a woman imaginable. I now have intimate acquaintance with all the feminine charm, delicacy, gentleness, scent, desire, softness, beauty, sweetness, love, and orgasmic bliss I've always craved, and also the slyly clever scheming at which women excel. My own and the other women's too. I live and breathe all of these wonderful things. Bliss!

Nicole doesn't know much of this yet -- I've never mentioned it during our Sunday brunch conversations, so she may be surprised when this coming Saturday it's my turn to tell all the members of our group a few wicked stories about the men I've been with, but also about some of them and some of the women at the office too. Or maybe I'll be surprised that she isn't surprised, just pleased that her love for me, like all true love, has found a way to multiply my love for her. For all of her. For all of the things I love about her.

The End

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Thank you Madame Stewart for sharing such a wonderful story. sissy needed a good Sunday night read.

princess jimmie

Loved this


wonderful – thank you Madame Stewart


What a fabulous story!!

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