Easy As Falling Off A Bike part 29

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Easy As Falling Off A Bike.
by Angharad & Barbara Cartland.
part 29.

Author's Note: I can't believe I'm still writing this, originally I was going to do a blog about being caught in a thunderstorm whilst cycling. Instead I decided to turn it into a story, then to write the story directly to the website as a test of my imaginative skills and fast editing. Nothing written is planned beforehand, and it is quick checked afterwards for obvious errors. Then I post it.

I'm delighted it is read by so many, some of whom actually say so in comments. I don't know where it will go or for how much longer - it doesn't get any easier to write something each day that makes sense with what has gone before. If you think it is, why not have a try.
Thanks for all the comments and encouragements.
hugs,
Angharad.
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I slumped down in the chair in semi-shock. The professor was arranging cups and saucers together, "When you are ready, you can be mother," he joked, indicating I should pour the teas.

Somehow my hand wasn't shaking as much as I thought it would pouring two cups of tea from the silver tea pot. I passed him the little milk jug.

"You seem surprised at my suggestion?" said my learned host.

"Surprised doesn't quite cover it," I gasped back.

"What else was I supposed to do? I meet you walking around the town dressed as a woman, then a short time later our tete a tete is interrupted by a group of students whose collective IQ could be measured in single figures. Should I have told them the truth, or reported you for missing lectures?" He took a sip of tea and waited for me to answer.

I went to pick up my cup and this time the shakes got to me and I needed two hands to safely return it to the saucer. I looked at him, his eyes were sparkling with mischief, normally that would just egg me on, now it annoyed me.

"This isn't some game Professor Agnew, this is my life we are talking about. If I turn up to lectures in skirts and makeup, there will be no going back. I don't know if I am ready to commit to that yet."

"So why are you walking about as a woman now? Surely you could have made some other arrangement to pick up a bicycle? You already have another one in your room, so it wasn't essential to do today. Instead, you could have changed and come to lectures this afternoon."

I had no answer to his question, why was I still walking around in Stella's clothes? I picked up my cup in both hands, the tremor had gone. I took a sip of the tea and tried to think about what I was going to say.

"I don't honestly know why I was walking to the bike shop, except I thought I'd better get the bike while I was in this mode because Simon is sure to ask me about it tomorrow."

"You don't have to go on this date with him, you know, he has no legal way of coercing you into it."

"I suppose not, but I gave my word I would go."

"Under such pressure, I'm sure a change of heart is allowed."

"I try to stick to my promises, however unpleasant or unwise they are, it's the way I was brought up. My parents might not have got much else right, but I do understand the concept of honouring my word."

"Very laudable in normal circumstances, but aren't these just a bit different? Didn't you say, that Simon is probably unaware of your previous status?"

I was becoming increasingly embarrassed and unable to speak. I felt his eyes boring through the top of my skull as I looked down at my feet. I nodded to answer his question as my eyes filled with tears.

Little rivulets of scalding water began to dribble down my cheeks and my companion handed me his handkerchief, a large Persil-white, mens' one. I dabbed at my eyes, then remembered I had no eye makeup on, so I wouldn't mark his hankie.

"Are you all right Miss Watts?" he asked in a very caring way.

I nodded and continued weeping.

"I am concerned for you, believe me, I don't care what you wear or call yourself as long as your work is consistently good and on time. However, to try and live this double life, especially in the goldfish bowl we call the university, sooner or later you will be discovered and what happens then, who knows? The rabble like that earlier will delight in having a laugh at your expense, it might also get a bit physical. We have had the odd 'queerbashing' incident on campus despite our efforts to prevent such things. I don't want that to happen to you."

I continued to wet his handkerchief with tears and nodded my understanding. "I just don't know if I am up to making this commitment yet. It's all happened so quickly and I'm not prepared for it."

"In what way are you not prepared for it?" he asked, offering me his empty cup to refill with tea.

"All sorts of ways," I blustered back desperately trying to think of excuses.

He sat and sipped his second cup of tea, while I tried to crank up my brain.

"I don't have enough clothes or make up," I gushed, my brain was beginning to function - sort of.

"Most of my female students wear jeans and tee shirts in summer and jeans and jumpers in the winter, just like most of the boys."

"What about social events?" I countered, "women have to have much bigger wardrobes for that?"

"Really? Not from what I've seen around the campus and there is nothing to stop you from buying more clothes, in fact I'd have thought it was easier being able to go into shops and try them on."

"I'd need more makeup," I said realising how weak that was as an argument.

"Well, all you're wearing at the moment is lipstick, and you look fine to me."

"I'm not prepared mentally," I said looking at the floor.

"I was led to believe that transsexualism is an inherent condition in certain individuals and incurable. From what I have read, most transsexuals claim to have a female brain in a male body. Some research evidence, albeit contraversial, may uphold that view. If it is true, how can you prepare something you were born with?"

"I erm, I erm don't know." I wept again, totally defeated.

"Are you trying to tell me you don't know if you really are transsexual?"

I couldn't speak, I was so choked up, but managed to shake my head vigorously.

"So is it that you don't want live as a woman?"

Again I shook my head vigorously.

"So what is it then, cold feet?"

At this I burst into tears and nodded, I wished I was dead.

A waitress walked up and asked us if everything was all right, the professor told her we were discussing a family matter and thanked her for her concern. I felt even more stupid.

Here I was doing what I had dreamt of doing ever since I was about eight or nine years old, living as a girl. I was being offered the opportunity to continue doing it indefinitely and with official sanction, it was beyond my wildest dreams. So why the bloody hell was I making excuses?

Okay so there would be some awkward questions eventually as people twigged, especially on my course, but that would have happened anyway unless I'd disappeared and turned up somewhere completely new and even that has risks. At least here I'd have help to face down the dissenters, and high status help at that. So what was my problem?

Maybe it was because it wasn't my decision, or at least it wasn't at my pace, I was being forced along at someone else's pace. It felt uncomfortable and I wasn't in control of anything. This thing was assuming it's own momentum. What I didn't know was if that would happen anyway, once it began even if I had started it? I could only know that by experience.

As I sat leaning forward, the vee neck of the tee shirt was giving the prof a good view of such cleavage as I had. "You're taking oestrogens?"

I suddenly looked up and nodded, "Yes, for about six or eight months."

"I see they are having an effect."

I blushed and sat more upright, pulling the denim jacket closed around me.

"It was meant as a neutral observation. However, if you are having hormone therapy, doesn't it mean your transition and life test is imminent?"

I nodded. I felt the world was over and all my elation had gone flat. Was this what real life would be like rather than the fizz of the past twenty four hours?

"I think you had better collect your bicycle and get in touch with the doctor who prescribed your pills. Call me later and let me know what you are going to do. You know what I think, but it must be your decision that you go with." With that he rose from the table, paid the bill and left.

"Was that man bothering you?" asked the waitress.

"No he was trying to help me," I said, my eyes still leaking tears.

" Man problems?"

"Something like that," I said wiping my face.

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Comments

and suddenly the life is turned upside down...

Wow! Now im laying here in my bed, just having read that episode and I don't know what to say. Angharad, that story is not just great. It's already so much more. They way you are writing this, one can identify with each character, in my case Cathy. ( ok, i have to admit the cycling part is an other thing, which makes me liking that story )...

Well, I hope you are going to grant us another installment tomorrow. I guess, there might be other readers too, who like to know what Cathy is doing next.

*huggles*

Saphira

--
>> There is not one truth only out there. <<

--
>> There is not one single truth out there. <<

I don't know how

You addressed so many issues and emotions in one short chapter. Everything from the first step to live as yourself to fears of discovery. This spoke of those in the world who can accept and aid those who need it, as well as the importance of accepting the need to be true to ones self. I know who I saw as the professor in my mind's eye and I'm sure others had their own visions of this wonderful character. This scene was so vivid it was if I was there. It was like the clips you see of the Academy Awards just before the winner is revealed. Truly this is an winner!
Well done Angharad and hugs!
grover

Aawww...

I had tears in my eyes one moment, and almost hiccups from laughter the next. It's so sweeet. Big hugs for the professor, what a doll.
Yes Angharad, Cartland alright. My god, are you hinting you're going to write as much?
Oh, I'm not complaining mind you, I 'd love it if you could make this into a true epic romance, but I don't want you to bear such a burden.
But as long as you can stretch it and be as entertaining and sweet *there, again! :) * as with this story I am with it 200%. Really, I still don't think anything written in the comments, can hold a candle to what you've written here. Gawd, I love this story.

Hugs,
Jo-Anne

I wonder if it's a coincidence but ...

... the advert at the bottom of the page as I read about Cathy's teary tea party is for Japanese Tea Ware (whatever that is), but it seems appropriate.

I suppose one advantage of writing this straight to the site is that you can't agonise over it for ages trying to get the right form of words (I'm a terrible changer of my stuff and continue to self-edit right up to the bitter end), but it has disadvantages too, rather like flying a light aircraft without a parachute. It's OK if nothing goes wrong and, of course, it's a super exercise in creative writing. Whatever the pros and cons you seem to be brushing them aside with great panache.

My trouble is that I'm going cycling for a week or so on Thursday and I'll have no access to the 'net. I'm looking forward to a good read when I get back after the Bank Holiday so keep up the good work ... or else :)

Geoff

What you are doing with this story is great.

It is amazing that you are writing this as you go.You have done a wonderfull job that not many writers could do with the same amount of quality.I try to leave at least one review per story I read but I find myself leaving one almost every chapter with your story.Being ts myself and on hormones and not quite ready to transition I can understand where your character Cathy is coming from.I hope you can continue to write this it is a great story but if you slow down it's understandable.Thanks again for a story I'm really enjoying Amy

I second you observations!

I'm loving this story, very well written even if it is 'Off The Cuff' as it were.

*HUGS*

Robi

*HUGS*
Robi

Yah Gotta Be Ready

Unfortunately this is a perfect example where counseling
while being on hormones is essential. You are
going through a second puberty, thus the tears. I don't
remember quite being that emotional myself when I started
but everyone's different of course.

She has to grow up quickly I am afraid. Transition can
sometimes hit you at the weirdest of times. For me it
was between jobs when I realized I had to go full-time or
else I would rather be dead - and I was serious. This
caught me unawares as I did not realize the intensity
of that desire until that point . And I'd been on hormones for 3 years
by that time and acquaintances I knew all said I was ready for it.

Talk about cold feet !

So unemployment pushed me out the door and into Real Life
and it is unfortunate for Cathy that she is being pushed
out unexpectedly too. I hope she finds her way but she is
very lucky to have people who are willing to support her
change in a material way so it is not as desperate as she
thinks it is.

Kim

Another shining example of

Another shining example of the often great talent displayed on this site!

As a reader, I am green with jealousy at the imagination, ingenuity and sheer skill displayed in what is apparently a ' spur of the moment ' exercise in writing.

I am able to string words together in a coherent form but could never generate a story which grabs ones' attention and keeps it wanting more. A reader I will remain.

Please keep up the good work. Like many others and, I suspect, yourself, I want to see where this is going, will it get there and what else might happen on the way!

Appreciatively,

Andy

The professor is right

Diesel Driver's picture

A promise made under duress of blackmail is in no way a legitimate promise.

Chris

HSP

Aljan Darkmoon's picture

Cathy strikes me as being a Highly Sensitive Person (as described in Elaine Aron’s books), as well as being highly emotional. I know the experience well, as I am, too. Hans Eysenck, who studied inborn temperaments, called this one Melancholic, and with very good reason. We tend to get overwhelmed easily, as everything affects us deeply.

Cathy wonders why her dream come true is turning into a nightmare. “Too fast” and “out of control” are two very good reasons. Were I Cathy, what I would want most is space for a breather, and time away from everything to sort and absorb my experiences. A counselor or medical professional could be most helpful by prescribing these things for the sake of Cathy’s health and well being, which would give her the official means to have them created.

This is great stuff, how can

This is great stuff, how can Anghard be so funny and at the same time be so touching?

like meeting old friends

kristin's picture

I started reading this again, as a form of comforting myself during Covid. I have to say, these last two chapters are my favorite of a VERY good story line. This is a pivotal moment in Cathy's life. Your writing has entertained me for years and it continues to do so now. I support this website each year and have bought all your books (several times) I thank you again and wish you well :)
Kristyn

kristyn nichols