Law Offices of Cooper, Price and Waterman, London, December 1963

Donald Cooper

Donald continued to work hard at the law firm of Cooper, Price and Waterman and after the initial heat and intensity had petered out, Donald Cooper and Vivian Huxtable’s relationship became more of a dalliance than anything else. Friday or Saturday night out for dinner, maybe a show, back to Donald’s for a shag, with Vivian wearing her stockings and sexy lingerie of course, was about all they could be bothered with.

They had soon worked out that while they were compatible between the sheets, they really didn’t get on. Donald was of half a mind that Vivian was reporting back to Deirdre the intimate details of their tryst but he really didn’t care. Both Donald and Deirdre had been guilty of infidelity while they were married so it made no difference now.

Besides, Donald couldn’t keep his penis in his pants. If he saw a woman he fancied he went after her, especially now that he was unencumbered by a spouse. He’d committed the cardinal sin and had a dalliance with one of the young secretaries named Sally Jessup. By careful observation Sally had realised Donald had a fascination with legs encased in stockings and pantyhose. She flirted with him, making sure she showed plenty of leg.

The secretarial pool didn’t have the same stringent dress code as the ‘front of house’ staff who met with clients and other associates and appeared in court but Gillian Snodgrass imposed dress standards on the typing pool: no trousers permitted. Sally was fond of A-line or pencil skirts and angora sweaters or cardigans. She was fresh faced and a little plump and she wore her shoulder-length, honey-blonde hair off her face held in place by a headband. She favoured pastel makeup, fifteen denier semi-opaque tights and strappy, wedge-heeled courts. An eclectic and almost schoolgirl look.

Sally Jessup had become infatuated with Donald and while the other girls at the firm gossiped about his marriage failure, she felt sorry for him and noted his short absence when his marriage dissolved. When he returned to work he seemed to be no longer troubled and broody and had regained his confident, articulate presence in the office and his friendly flirty nature returned. She made goo-goo eyes at him and was openly salacious in his presence whenever they were alone.

Sally came into Donald’s office one evening on some pretext when they were both alone in the building working late. She was wearing a pleated, tartan A-line mini, a pink angora cardigan over her crisp white blouse and black strappy high heels.

“I’ve typed up the Jenkins deposition Mister Cooper,” Sally dropped a slim file on Donald Cooper’s desk.

“There was no rush for that Sally and Mister Cooper is what I called my father, please call me Donald,” Donald gave her a smile and Sally was acutely aware that Donald was appraising her.

She’d fixed her makeup, hiked up her skirt an extra inch or two and smothered herself with flowery perfume before she came to Donald’s office.

Sitting behind his desk dressed in his Saville Row suit, with his rugged good looks and lustrous black hair he was an imposing, manly figure and Sally felt her heart flutter.

“There was no need for you to work so late,” Donald put down his pen and smiled at Sally and she blushed.

“I just wanted to please you, Mister… I mean Donald. I like pleasing you. You are the nicest out of all the men who work here,” she gave him a coquettish grin.

There was no doubt in Sally’s mind that she would never call Donald by his first name in front of the other partners or that harridan Mrs Snodgrass but alone in his office it was intimate. She felt a warmth and affection for the man she knew was currently seeing a divorcee named Mrs Vivian Huxtable whom Sally hated, even though she had only ever seen her when she swung by the office to go out with Donald after work.

Donald was acutely aware that Sally had a crush on him and the girl was barely out of secretarial school and very naïve. Vivian was tending to his needs in the bedroom but this young coquette was intriguing and pretty.

“Why don’t you pour us both a sherry before we leave for the evening,” Donald pointed to the small arrangement of liquor bottles set up on a small bar in the corner of his office.

Sally made a show of bending over to open the glass-fronted cupboard under the bar to get to the sherry glasses knowing full well that during her deportment training she had been taught to kneel in order to be modest. By bending over, her little skirt rode up exposing acres of thigh clad in purple semi-opaque tights and her full waisted white satin kickers worn over the top.

Being a buxom lass, Sally was inclined to wear full-cut knickers over her tights and the expanse of shiny white panty was quite an impressive sight for Donald to behold. He felt himself thickening.

Donald knew that undertaking a dalliance with Sally Jessup would be a stupid thing to do. She was young, innocent, unsophisticated and his subordinate and obviously infatuated with him. But Donald’s lust was his driver and he couldn’t help himself.

“Let me help you,” Donald sidled up to Sally and inhaled the cloying scent of her perfume.

It was flowery and fruity and far from his taste but it suited this pretty chubbette of a girl.

There was no real seduction involved, Donald simply led her away from the bar to the leather sofa where he seated his clients to make them feel relaxed and he relaxed Sally into it. She giggled like a schoolgirl and kept trying to pull down her skirt which had ridden up when Donald lay her down on the polished leather.

He kissed her and she tasted like bubblegum and Tizer and she wriggled under him which he liked. His hands were everywhere and before long her angora cardigan was gone and her blouse was open and the white creamy mounds of her voluptuous breasts were exposed. Her areola were big and her nipples were like red raspberries that hardened to his touch.

Donald was not a ‘tit man’ but when Sally guided his head to her breasts he suckled on them like a new-born baby. He took her breasts into his mouth, alternating between them, as he sucked and nibbled the supple teats. Sally squirmed and moaned and intertwined her fingers into his thick mane and guided him from nipple to nipple. It was obvious that she was no virgin but she was no trollop either and he thought he could smell her sex.

When he finally put his hand between her legs he found her knickers almost saturated with her juices. He squeezed a finger between her fleshy labia, pushing the material of her knickers and tights into her maw and stirred it around and Sally giggled and flapped around underneath him, kissing him with open-mouthed, breathless kisses. Her lips were soft and her tongue was tactile and Donald was hard as a sword inside his trousers.

He guided Sally’s hand down to his trousers but she seemed flummoxed but she kept kissing him and scissoring her legs as Donald rubbed her fanny through her knickers and tights. He gave up and extracted his cock from his pants and put Sally’s hand on it and she held onto it like it was door handle, her inexperience showing through.

Donald was a little frustrated with Sally’s childlike and selfish behaviour but he had no inclination to educate her in the art of lovemaking, he just wanted to shag the pretty little plump secretary. He decided he would gratify himself as she didn’t seem to understand what he wanted her to do so he pressed his cock into her thick thighs. The semi-transparent tights she was wearing were not really the hosiery he preferred on his women but they felt nice and soft and sensual on his rampant penis when he rubbed it against her.

“Oh I like that Donald,” Sally giggled and he pressed his mouth to hers to shut her up.

Her knickers became damper as she released a freshet of vaginal juices in response the feel of Donald’s rampant member rubbing on her inner thighs.

Sally may have only had a few sexual encounters but she knew what she liked and she was able to roll over on top of Donald and straddle him.

“I’ll leave my tights on because I know you like them. I’ve seen you looking,” Sally said innocently but kookily.

“I cut the out the cotton gusset with scissors in the ladies before I came to your office,” Sally blushed, as much with lust as with embarrassment.

Before Donald could reply, Sally eased aside the silky gusset of her knickers and lowered herself onto his rampant phallus and impaled herself on his rigid took and began to rock back and forth.

Her vagina was tight but well-lubricated as another freshet of her essence flowed into her sex. She put Donald’s hands on her waist and he dug his fingers into the sides of her satin knickers and held on as she rode him. He moved them down to her voluptuous thighs so he could feel the silkiness of her tights.

Sally’s cunt was like a fleshy vacuum tube that clung to his manhood as Sally dug her heels into his sides and rode him. She alternated between planting sloppy kisses on his lips and throwing back her head and yelping like a playful puppy. Donald was glad that they were alone in the building because she was making a racket.

He could feel his orgasm approaching and Donald pulled Sally’s face to his and kissed her deeply as his cock juddered inside her tight, wet minge and deposited his semen. Sally moaned into his mouth and her whole body shook like jelly, her tits swaying from side to side and her legs clamping tight along Donald’s flanks as she ground her fleshy mound into his pubis to put pressure on her clitoris. The feel of Donald’s rather prodigious dong pulsing and quivering inside her as he ejaculated was quite delightful.

When they had finished it was a little awkward as Sally struggled to dismount him and to Donald’s disdain, the contents of her vagina flooded out of her and soaked the front of his trousers which he’d had no time to take off. Sally giggled as she pushed her fat baps back into her brassiere and buttoned her blouse. She eased the sodden gusset of her knickers back into place and pulled down her skirt.

“There. No one would ever know that we’d just shagged on your sofa,” Sally giggled, forgetting that her makeup was smeared across her face, she’d misbuttoned her cardigan and the tops of her tights were wet with vaginal juices and the room reeked of sex.

“Yes, well, best we keep this to ourselves Sally,” Donald said as he guided her to the door.

“That was lovely Donald. I hope we can do it again sometime,” Sally looked up at him with adoration.

Donald patted her buxom arse on the way out and said they would have to see what happens.

Sally took to wearing nylon stockings to work because she knew that Donald liked them and she would drop by his office for a quickie at lunch time and after work. Donald liked to bend her over his big desk and fuck her with his hand over her mouth because she was so loud. He liked the feel of her fat arse pressing into him while he shagged her with her knickers on. But Donald eventually tired of her and she made a terrible scene in the office when Donald told her it was over and Gillian Snodgrass had to intervene and eventually let Sally go with severance pay and an excellent reference.

“I told you to go out and explore the world. Find something exotic to tickle your fancy before you remarry. Not to start shagging the office girls!” Gillian Snodgrass scolded Donald with vexatious candour.

“For god sake Donald don’t turn out to be your father. Find your pleasures elsewhere!” Gillian closed the door quite vigorously behind her when she left his office.

Donald knew that Gillian was right. Shagging any of the girls at work was just stupid and he would probably end up on the wrong side of a law suit where he to continue. But shagging women within his social class was unsatisfying as he’d found out with Vivian Huxtable. The excitement soon diminished and they all reminded him of Deirdre. Not that there was a shortage of women in those circles who wouldn’t jump into bed with him given a bit of effort on his part, but that wasn’t what he was looking for.

It was at this time that Donald was approached by the senior partner, Sir Stanley Price, who asked a favour.

“A friend of mine from Harrow, you know him from the club, the Earl of Mansfield, Dickie Singleton. Well his son Miles is in a bit of a sticky wicket,” Stanley said over pink gins in a quiet corner of the Grosvenor Club.

“Seems the lad was sowing his wild oats so to speak, like we all did when we were younger, and anyway, the brunt of it is he was caught giving one to a prostitute down a back alley near Saint James’s Square,” Stanley guffawed and looked around to ensure they were not being overheard.

“Dickie might have got the charges dropped or at least reduced, him being an Earl and all but the bloody Labour Party backroom boys know about it and they're pushing for a prosecution,” Stanley studied the end of his cigar with concern.

“Well he won’t be the first of the peerage to be tried for getting his leg over a lady of the night. Can’t imagine that he’ll be getting more than a fine and most will think him Jack the Lad,” Donald chuckled.

“Well the sticky wicket old boy is that the lady of the night he was caught sowing his wild oats with was actually a man dressed as woman and they have charged him with gross indecency with a male,” Sir Stanley blushed at having to say the words.

“Oh, I see,” Donald replied, although he didn’t really.

Donald knew about transvestites of course. As a young man at university he had performed in pantomimes where men invariably impersonated women and he knew of one particular chap who liked dressing up as a woman a little more than he probably should and he knew that a couple of his peers had taken advantage of the situation.

“Take the case Donald and get it sorted. It’s before Judge Rheingold who as you know is a cantankerous old bugger who has no time for pederasts; especially the sons of the entitled gentry,” Sir Stanley puffed his cigar and frowned.

Donald met with the future Earl of Mansfield, Miles Singleton and found him to be exactly that: entitled. He claimed to be guilty of procuring a prostitute but had no idea that ‘she’ was a ‘he’.

Donald found the co-accused, a mousy little man named Jimmy Bottle who worked at a grocer’s during the day and dallied as a sex worker at night under the name Wendy Wantsit, which Donald found crude but couldn’t help but chuckle at the entendre. Jimmy’s trial was separate to Miles’ as the charges were slightly different and it was to be Jimmy’s third appearance before a magistrate for soliciting and homosexual indecency.

The British judicial system is nothing like the American system as betrayed on TV. There are no continual interruptions with lawyers yelling ‘objection!’ or theatrical contrivances; councillors do not ‘approach the witness’. Most objections and motions have been dealt with before the case comes before the court. His Honour Judge Walter Rheingold was not one to condone such theatrics in his court. Under the Crown judicial system it is also permissible for counsellors to ‘lead the witness’ in order to establish the facts of the case.

The Crown prosecutor called into court the policeman who had witnessed the alleged crime and he stated that he had found Miles Singleton in an alley near Saint James’s Square, which was a known haunt for street prostitutes. Jimmy Bottle was on his knees before young Miles fellating him. Jimmy Bottle was known to police and had previous convictions for soliciting and committing homosexual acts in public, which at the time was still a criminal offence.

Under cross examination the policeman admitted that Jimmy Bottle was in fact dressed as a woman and that was the only question that Donald asked of him. The public gallery was packed with the usual spectators who found such cases titillating and also with members of the Fleet Street press, mostly from the scandal sheets.

Donald addressed Miles Singleton in the dock and asked him about the evening in question and Miles admitted to drinking heavily in a nearby pub and then going to look for a prostitute to have sex with.

“And you had no idea that the lady that you had solicited for sexual services was in fact a man?” Donald asked his witness.

“I had no idea My Lord, I thought she was a woman,” Miles answered confidently.

“The act itself did not require the woman to remove her undergarments?” Donald asked and was scowled at by the judge but the question was allowed.

“No My Lord; she remained fully clothed,” Miles addressed his answer to the judge as he had been instructed.

The Crown Prosecutor went after Miles and basically called him a liar and inferred that there was no way that Miles could not have known that Wendy Wantsit was in fact a man.

Donald had only one other witness.

“I call Mister James Bottle My Lord,” Donald’s voice boomed across the court.

Jimmy Bottle was not sitting in the court because as a witness providing evidence before the Crown he was not allowed to observe proceedings until he had given his evidence.

Wendy Wantsit entered the court wearing a stylish skirt-suit, her skirt cut just above the knee so that her lovely legs were on display for all to see. She was wearing high heels, full makeup and a blonde beehive do and looked absolutely stunning. There was no one in the court who could with all honesty not admit that she looked anything other than an attractive woman.

The gallery erupted and some of the scandal sheet boys began taking pictures which was totally against court convention. The judge banged his gavel and called for order, the bailiff intercepted Wendy Wantsit before she could get to the witness stand but by then she had paraded herself before the court and it was obvious to all that she was a very convincing female impersonator and if she hadn't been called to the stand under the name ‘James Bottle’ no one would have known that she wasn’t woman.

“Close the court! Crown prosecutor and defence counsel to my chambers NOW!” Judge Walter Rheingold rapped his gavel repeatedly.

In the confines of his chambers His Honour Judge Walter Rheingold dismissed any part of the indictment that referred to homosexuality and under instructions from his client Donald agreed to a plea of guilty on the single charge of soliciting a woman for prostitution and the fine was paid that very day.

Wendy Wantsit became a minor celebrity in the scandal sheets for a brief period which didn’t help Jimmy Bottle at trial and he was sent down for twelve months because it was his third offence. It was rumoured that Jimmy made a tidy sum during his incarceration, bringing out Wendy Wantsit in the evenings after lights out to service the inmates whilst the prison officers turned a blind eye.

Miles Singleton's solicitation conviction created a mild scandal in the papers but to his chums and family he was the victim of an infamous female impersonator who had deceived him whilst he was under the influence of alcohol. The Earl of Mansfield was never mentioned in the press and the law firm of Cooper, Price and Waterman pocketed a tidy sum.

Julie Clifford

The man was handsome enough and was specific with his requests. He sat naked on a wooden chair in Julie’s workroom while she slowly lifted her skirt inches from his face.

“Stop!” the man ordered when her skirt got to mid-thigh.

“Kiss me!” the man hissed.

Julie leaned down, placed her mouth on his and began to kiss him, still holding up her skirt. The man had thick sensuous lips and Julie kissed him softly, intrigued by the little game they were playing. The man didn’t return the kiss but allowed Julie to press her lipsticked lips on his and slide the tip of her tongue along them seductively. The man’s cock was an iron bar dripping a continual flow of pre-ejaculate from the tip.

“Ok, continue,” the man turned his head away to break the kiss and then watched Julie continue to glide her skirt up her thighs which were swathed in black seamed stockings.

When the dark shadow welt came into view the man swallowed hard and then swallowed harder still when the darker welt appeared with the silver snaps of Julie’s garters clipped to them.

“Stop!” the man ordered and Julie did so.

Julie thought that there was something extremely erotic and sensual about the game they were playing.

The man reached out and gently stroked the dark welts on Julie’s stockings. He toyed with her garter snaps flicking them gently against her thighs. He ran his hands up and down her legs relishing the feel of the cool, silky nylon on his fingertips.

Julie sighed and shuddered. The man’s gentle manipulation of her legs was very arousing; the feel of his warm fingers on her flesh glazed in her satiny black stockings was like butterflies ticking her. She looked down and saw that the man had leaked more precum and it was running in little runnels down his shaft; the blue veins pulsing as the man’s heart pumped blood to where he needed it most at this time.

The man had insisted that Julie not tuck or tape and her cock uncoiled as it began to stiffen, pressing against the transparent black knickers that the man had brought for her to wear.

“Kiss me!” the man ordered again and Julie leaned in to acquiesce to his demand.

This time the man parted his lips a little and Julie was able to put the tip her tongue just inside his mouth but no further. It was a tease because she actually wanted to kiss the man properly. She wanted to rub her body against him, she wanted to take his engorged manhood in her hand and she wanted to put him in her mouth so that she could feel the power of his weapon as she suckled it, swallowing the sweet pre-seminal fluid as it trickled from the eye of his cock.

Julie seldom became invested in her punters. She was now a seasoned prostitute with a string of regulars and a clutch of drop-ins who had found her tart cards and called her for appointments. The sex was simply work and she hardly ever became aroused during the acts. Kiss, cuddle, cane, paddle, spank, wank and if the punter was right and had the money then suck – that was her stock in trade

Her skirt began to tent as Julie reached full tumescence. The man ignored this and continued to kiss her and play with her thighs. When his wrist brushed against her erect penis the man yanked his hand away as if he’d been burned. Julie was disappointed but not surprised; there were plenty of her customers that did not want to see her penis, however the man’s kisses became more passionate.

Finally the man stood, rising out of his chair. He picked up Julie, who was probably half his weight, and carried her to the bed where he lay her down and pulled down her skirt and had her lie chastely. Then the whole ritual started again with the soft, almost emotionless kisses as Julie slowly raised her skirt, until her thighs were fully exposed and the man was straddling her, kissing her with fervour and once again Julie was bulging her knickers and tenting her skirt.

The man lay down on top of her and hugged her; his bloated phallus pressing against her knickers. She could feel the trickle of precum soak into her panties as the man writhed around on top of her.

His mouth found hers and this time he opened wide and thrust his tongue into hers. The man was big and muscled and smelled of soap and cologne and he completely enveloped the little transvestite lying beneath him. He kissed her mouth and her cheeks and neck, almost tenderly at first and then he returned to her mouth and his kisses became passionate and he began to rut against her.

Julie could feel the man’s cock pressing on hers through her knickers and it felt so wonderful. The man had obviously got over his aversion to her cock. She reached up to put her hands around his neck and tried her best to lock her legs around his torso and rub her stocking-sheathed limbs on his bare tender skin.

The man sighed and pressed himself harder against Julie, kissing her frenetically as he ground himself against her body. Julie was delighted by the feel of the man’s cock rubbing on hers, her knickers wet with precum. She enjoyed the man’s sensuous kisses but she was a little breathless and felt imprisoned by the weight of his muscled body.

The man made no effort to take his weight off her. He’d told her what he wanted: the chair tease and that he wanted to lie on top of her and dry hump her while he kissed her, which she’d agreed to. Compared to some of the requests she received it was rather benign. Julie had miscalculated the size of the man but he wasn't really hurting her and it did feel nice and he was good looking and polite.

The man’s cock slipped inside her knickers and their penises where rubbing flesh to flesh. Julie didn’t mind, although she expected that the man would pull away given the reaction he’d had when his wrist brushed her cock earlier but the man seemed to be enjoying himself, certainly there was no reduction in the flow of pre-ejaculate that drooled from his cock.

Julie was quite enjoying the experience of having a man on top of her, kissing her and frotting her. Her cock was also leaking pre-seminal fluid and was tingling with delight. The man was squeezing her buttocks through her knickers while he ferociously rubbed his cock on hers.

The man jabbed at her and missed and his cock slipped between her legs and the man raised her bottom off the bed so his cock could slide between her buttocks. Julie began to panic. She made it quite clear to all her punters that she did not offer anal sex.

The man’s prodigious cock slid along the crease of her perineum, the soft white pillows of her buttocks cushioning his hard cock. He pressed her buttocks together and humped the soft, slippery, warm channel between her cheeks. Julie batted at his back with her fists and scissored her legs against him in frustration but the man humped away at her, his cock dangerously close to her sphincter.

Did it feel wonderful lying underneath this man while he held her tight and pressed his penis between her pillowy arse cheeks eliciting little tingles of delight every time his glans pressed on her sphincter? Of course it did; it felt wonderful!

Was Julie terrified that the man was going to pierce her anus either intentionally or unintentionally? You bet your best knickers she was but it just felt so wonderful to be smothered by this big handsome man who was kissing her, squeezing her buttocks as he humped them, with her knicker-clad cock rubbing on his hard belly while he did it.

The man began to whimper and Julie felt his cock shudder and suddenly her bottom was soaked with warm syrupy jism and Julie held him tight and scissored her nylon-clad legs against him, raking his flanks with her heels as she released against his hard, flat belly. The room suddenly reeked of spunk.

Julie clung to the man, returning his desperate kisses as he pinned her to the bed and fucked her buttocks. At least once the tip of his glans pierced her sphincter but only enough to open it a little and when he did Julie screamed but it was a scream of trepidation and delight rather than abject terror. She had to admit that it felt nice as she flooded her knickers with her seed and the man continued to spurt his issue between her legs.

When he was finished the man lay on top of Julie and stroked and coddled her, whispering endearments, telling her how beautiful she was. He left her sated and exhausted on the bed, soaking in his semen and her own juices. Julie was too tired to see him to the door but found later that he had left a decent tip.

Later that night in bed she recalled the handsome young man who had stroked her knicker-covered penis while his finger was buried in her bum and compared it to the feel of the big man’s cock thrusting between her buttocks and at least twice accidently slipping inside her sphincter just a little. She also recalled what Bella had told her: “You earn real money on your back.”

Food for thought but Julie was still adamant that's she wouldn’t be doing that any time soon.

However the next day her curiosity got the better of her and Julie overcame her fear and had Julian purchase a dildo from a Soho adult shop for Julie to use. She experimented with it over the next few days and discovered a few things. First she must douche before using it, second she must use plenty of lubricant, third, it needed to be inserted slowly, and finally, if she positioned it just right she could ejaculate hands free.

The dildo was a wonderful toy but Julie still had no intention of letting a man mount her. The very thought of it sent waves of trepidation through her. There was big difference between Julie slowly pushing a small lubricated dildo inside her clean anus and manipulating it to please herself, than some brutish man pounding away at her tight puckered bud!

Donald Cooper

When Donald Cooper had met with Jimmy Bottle and told him of his plan to present Wendy Wantsit in court Jimmy’s first response had been to ask what was in it for him.

“One hundred guineas paid in full by the Earl of Mansfield but through our law firm’s account,” Donald had replied.

“Of course you only get the money if the ruse works,” Donald sniffed.

“What does that mean?” Jimmy had asked in his high whiney effeminate voice.

“It means I’m going to have to see you dressed as Wendy and determine for myself if it is believable that you can actually pass as a woman,” Donald countered.

“You mean would I be clocked as a man? Not a chance. Especially at night. But I can’t exactly turn up at your law firm in drag can I?” Jimmy whined.

“No, of course not and the prosecutor or the judge might get wind of what I’m planning if someone was to be indiscreet. I’ll need to see you in the same situation that Miles Mansfield would have seen you,” Donald stated.

“Be at The Elephant and Castle in Lambeth tonight at eight o’clock guvnor and you’ll see Wendy how Miles saw her,” Jimmy chuckled.

Donald had shown up at The Elephant and Castle at the appointed time. The place was a down to earth public house where a large crowd was drinking and singing along with two flamboyant men playing back-to-back pianos. It smelled of beer, cigarette smoke with a cloying undercurrent of perfume. There appeared to quite a few tarted up women in attendance.

Donald bought a gin and Britvic bitter lemon and wondered through the crowded pub looking for Jimmy Bottle or more correctly he was looking for Wendy Wantsit. It was then that it struck Donald that most of the women weren't in fact women; they were female impersonators: transvestites.

Most of them were absolutely stunning and unclockable but some were not quite as distinguishable, looking more like a man in a frock wearing makeup. Donald surveyed the lounge bar and realised that he was mesmerised by some of the more attractive and effeminate types.

Although it was not illegal to 'crossdress in public', crossdressers could and probably would be arrested for disturbing the peace, importuning or worse. Most people thought transvestites were the same as drag queens and only dressed that way as a means of entertainment. Whether that was the case here or not it appeared that The Elephant and Castle was a safe place for them and other deviants.

There were men holding hands and some of them were openly kissing. Most of the transvestites were surrounded by flocks of admirers who appeared to be enchanted by them to the extent that some of the transvestites were sitting in men’s laps, some were kissing and some were outright fondling each other.

Donald hadn't thought about it for quite some time now but suddenly images of the nylon sheathed calf of Julian Clifford crept back into his mind, except the well-turned leg was not attached to Julian Clifford’s body, it belonged to some seductive coquette who was as yet faceless.

Donald recalled Gillian Snodgrass scolding him and telling him to ‘go out and explore the world and find something exotic to tickle your fancy before you remarry’. There was no doubt that some of the more attractive and feminine types were indeed exotic.

“See anything you fancy? You walked right past me and didn’t recognise me,” Jimmy Bottle or more correctly Wendy Wantsit tapped him on the shoulder and grinned at him when he turned to face her.

At first Donald had no idea who was talking to him but the woman was stunning; dressed in a leather micro-miniskirt, white diaphanous blouse with a black and silver bolero jacket, high heels, shoulder-length blonde hair and heavy makeup. She was attractive and sexy and Donald would be lying if he didn’t admit to himself that his first instinct was to fuck her.

The voice was the giveaway; he recognised Jimmy Bottle’s high whiney effeminate voice.

“Ok; I think we can sell this in court but you can’t wear that,” Donald waved at Wendy’s streetwalker clothes.

“Oh, don’t worry darling; I have a nice suit that will impress the judge and the gallery,” Wendy smirked and before Donald could do anything about it she leaned in and kissed the side of his mouth leaving him in a cloud of perfume and lipstick on his lips.

“I’ll send you the court date,” Donald yelled at Wendy as she disappeared into the crowd and although he knew better he couldn’t take his eyes off her pert arse and long legs sheathed in sheer black fully-fashioned stockings.

“Well that’s that taken care of,” Donald said to himself.

As much as he found some of the transvestites fascinating and alluring Donald decided to be on his way. The Elephant and Castle was not the type of establishment that a preeminent barrister like himself should be frequenting. He decided to stop for a quick piss on the way out and made his way the men’s lavatory and was a little relieved to find that there were no transvestites in there. They were free to use the women’s conveniences at the Trunk and Brick.

Donald stood at the trough and let his water flow, reading the graffiti on the wall as he pissed. A cork board was mounted centre-trough and was covered with tart cards pinned to it with drawing pins. One of them caught his attention, it read: TV Julie. Discreet service for select gentlemen. Kisses and cuddles or spanking and discipline. Hand relief only!

A picture of TV Julie reclining on the sofa, one foot up on it the other leg extended, her arms draped along the back of the couch, one hand holding a riding crop, her head thrown back a little and her lips opened sensuously, accompanied the text. Her knickers were openly on display as were her stocking-tops. Even in black and white she looked beautiful and sexy.

Donald realised what a fool he’d been.

Julie was not ‘True Value Julie’; she was ‘Transvestite Julie’! Oh my god! Was Julian Clifford not just a manufacturer and distributor of tart cards? Was Julian also the ‘tart’ being advertised?

It made sense didn’t it? What would make a man wear stockings under his suit? Because he was a crossdresser and it was compulsive! Julian Clifford was also Julie Clifford; it all made sense!

Now what was Donald going to do with that nugget of information?

Donald took Friday off from the practice and waited patiently for Julian Clifford at Lambeth North tube station and got on the same Bakerloo Line train, alighting at Oxford Circus. Donald had been careful not to arouse Julian’s suspicions but had got close enough to see that Julian was wearing stockings or tights under his suit.

He took a perch in the Black Swan public house across from the bookshop and worked his way through two pints of bitter before Julian closed the shop for lunch. Julian took a circuitous route around Soho, similar to the route he had taken when Donald had followed him before.

Donald followed him watching Julian stop at every telephone phone box he passed and he also darted into a couple of newsagents and public houses and quickly ducked back out. Julian was working his way around Soho street by street, distributing tart cards from the valise he was carrying. Donald went into one of phone boxes and found TV Julie’s tart card.

It was identical to the previous card but the text had been altered slightly: the Hand relief only! stipulation was missing. Donald smiled at the implication and read the card closely. What had been added was a line of text that read: Sat through Thu 6pm to late.

Donald continued to follow Julian from a discreet distance and watched him drop into a lingerie shop and leave almost immediately, stuffing a package into his valise.

Donald entered the lingerie shop and spoke to the pretty shopgirl. Using his charm, good looks and a one pound note he discovered that Julian had picked up a package of twelve pairs of fully-fashioned nylon stockings; six black, six fleshtoned.

“He picks them every Friday so I have them pre-packaged for him. Sometimes he buys knickers and other lingerie. Tells me it’s for his wife but we get plenty of his type in here. No skin off our nose, is it? A sale is a sale and he’s a good customer,” the girl said, smacking her gum and studying the pound note that Donald had given her.

Donald smiled and left the shop. He went home and had an early supper and at 6pm precisely he dialled 723 4141 and nervously waited for an answer. There was none. Julie’s new cards specifically said: Sat through Thu 6pm to late so being Friday he wasn’t really expecting one.

Donald waited until around 9pm and then took a taxi to the Elephant and Castle. He’d dressed down and was wearing a cheap suit with scuffed brogues, without a tie. The Trunk and Brick was in full swing; Riccardo and Hernando were banging out ‘Roll Out The Barrel’ on their back-to-back pianos and the crowd was singing along, following the bouncing ball projected on the wall.

The drag show had not long finished and the ‘girls’ were lined up at the bar, eager to convert their tips into drinks. Donald sidled up beside them and observed them without gawking. Their makeup was very exaggerated compared to the makeup worn by other crossdressers in the pub: stacks of false eyelashes, glued down eyebrows with false ones created above them, harsh contours and heavy applications of bold colour.

The four drag queens sat at a table together chatting with their fans as they dropped by to congratulate them on the show. One by one the drag queens went out back to change. Two returned still dressed as women but with their makeup turned down and their hip and thigh pads gone and two came out dressed as their male selves.

Donald found this interesting but it was not what he was here for.

He found Julie Clifford sitting with a large-breasted, attractive older woman and another woman of similar age to her. Donald was surprised to find that he was mentally referring to the transvestites as women; at least those that were passable. He wasn’t sure it was Julie at first; the only picture he had of Julie was her tart card which he turned over and over in his hand as he studied her. Donald was able to get a stool near the bar right next to their little crowded table situated right at the back of the pub where the tree transvestites and three men sat talking above the raucous din of pub.

They had to raise their voices to talk over the sing-along and Donald was able to snatch snippets of conversation. He quickly ascertained that the women were called Julie, Bella and Sandra. The woman who he suspected was Julie was in fact her.

He was sure that a closer examination of Bella would reveal that those big tits were false; but they served their purpose and as she was a big girl they were proportionate to her frame. Sandra was pretty but a little skinny. There was no doubt that Julie was the most attractive and feminine of the three.

She was wearing a carefully brushed and styled blonde Marilyn Monroe wig and her makeup was heavy but perfect: black eyeliner and mascara to frame her beautiful green eyes, contrasted with pinkish hued eyeshadow. Her high cheekbones were rouged, her pretty nose powdered and those sensuous lips coated with plum-red lipstick.

She was wearing a simple blue skirt-suit, the jacket hanging over the back of her chair, a red satin blouse and black high-heeled pumps. Her short skirt had ridden up a little; enough to show off the welts of her fully-fashioned nylon stockings. Her costume jewellery glittered under the subdued pub lighting.

Donald was not the only man to notice Julie. The man sitting beside her was obviously infatuated with her, although Julie showed little interest in him. Several other men in the pub were gawking at her too.

What surprised Donald was that he saw nothing of Julian in Julie. That actually wasn’t true: it was as if Julian had been appropriated and subsumed by Julie. Try as he might, he could see nothing masculine in Julie. He studied her sitting down at the table engaging with her friends, standing up to go to the loo and sometimes to dance and he was intrigued by her delicate femininity and poise. Every gesture she made, every footstep she took, and every word she spoke; her very countenance was womanly.

Unless they knew otherwise nobody would ever know that Julian shared the same body. Conversely they might think that Julie and Julian were twin brother and sister.

Donald felt vindicated. He’d been fascinated and obsessed with Julian ever since that glimpse of nylon stocking on the eight-fifty-five commuter train servicing the Bakerloo Line. His detective work had paid dividends. Donald knew Julian’s secret.

The irony was that once Donald spied Julie Clifford he immediately lost all interest in Julian. Julie had totally replaced any thoughts of Julian. She was a totally different person and he was infatuated with her; smitten was probably a better word.

But what he was thinking was repugnant surely? It was anathema to him. It was totally against his nature.

Gillian Snodgrass’ advice: ‘go out and explore the world and find something exotic to tickle your fancy’ kept circling his thoughts and he shook his head and looked at his watch. It was close to closing time.

Donald had solved the mystery of the man on the train who wore nylon stockings to work under his suit. That was enough. There was no need to pursue Julian Clifford any longer.

But that night Donald didn’t dream about Julian Clifford; he dreamt about Julie!

All the next day he kept thinking of Julie; he just couldn’t put her out of his mind.

Later that evening, at exactly five thirty, having imbibed two gin and tonics to fortify him, Donald lifted the receiver in a telephone box near Lambeth tube station and dialled 723 4141, turning the tart card over and over in his hand. He had never felt so nervous.

Julie Clifford and Donald Cooper

Saturday morning Julian opened the bookshop a little later than usual. Julie had imbibed a little more alcohol than she usually did on Friday night and Julian's stomach was queasy. He had a frightful day and didn’t sell much but now that Julie was making good money from prostitution it wasn’t that important. What was important was that Julian’s beloved bookstore was safe from the debt collectors at Barclay’s Bank.

Julian locked up early and went home and Julie took over. She took a long luxurious bath and examined her slim body for any stray hairs which were immediately plucked. Julian was not hirsute and had very little facial or body hair. Julia’s body was svelte but not skinny; she was hippy and what little fat she had was stored on her pert buttocks. Her amber-blonde hair was growing out nicely and had recently been cut so that Julian could wear it centre-parted and look like some bookish intelligentsia and Julie could wear it styled in a feminine bob.

Julie never wore her own hair at the Trunk and Brick or with her punters. It was something personal to her and she loved to sit in front of the mirror and brush and style it and was a little dismayed when she had to put a wig cap over it and pull on one of her hairpieces but it gave her the anonymity she needed to perform her duties as a whore.

The only part of her body she was not satisfied with was her breasts. She had silicon prosthetics of course, breastforms they were called and they filled the cups of her brassiere nicely and gave shape to her upper body but she would really like some real tits. Nothing over exaggerated; that would be outrageous; maybe a B or C size proportionate to her body. But even if her wish came true and Julie did sprout breasts, what would Julian do with them? Bind them? That seemed a little unkind. She was already making him wear nylons and knickers under his man-clothes.

What if there was a way to do away with Julian? She’d often had this thought but it was impossible. Everything was in his name and how would she explain his disappearance and her sudden manifestation? She put away such thoughts.

She dried herself and poured herself a drink and began the ritual of applying her makeup. A glance at the clock revealed it to be five o'clock. The phone would begin ringing soon. Saturday evenings were always busy.

Julie finished her makeup and slipped into her lingerie, a white satin full-slip, matching full-cut knickers and brassiere, a black lace suspender belt and flesh-toned seamed stockings. As often happened, slipping into her dainties had produced an erection. She was too drunk and exhausted yesterday when she got home from the pub to allow herself self-pleasure and she was concupiscent. She glanced over guiltily at her little dildo and the tube KY Jelly beside it.

Julie had douched as part of her toilette and she smiled wickedly. A little stimulation before she went to work wouldn’t hurt. She took off her knickers and lay on the bed and lubed up the dildo and put the tip near the entrance to her anus. She improved her erection to full tumescence and slowly inserted the dildo. It still hurt when it pierced her sphincter but she took her time and soon the tip was pressing on her prostate whilst the girth of it illicited little sparklets of pleasure from her puckered bud.

She took her cock in her hand and worked the dildo slowly in and out of her anus, allowing herself fifteen minutes of sustained pleasure, backing off each time she approached extremis. She would wait until she had serviced all of her punters before she allowed herself to orgasm unless one of them bought her off during a session which sometimes happened if the man was handsome and the sex was good.

She wiped the dildo clean and set it aside and then she wiped the excess lubricant from her sphincter and put her knickers back on. Julie was still tingling with sexual excitement and that wasn’t a bad thing. It made dealing with the pasty, fat, working class, middle-aged married men who made up the bulk of clientele tolerable.

Julie had just put on her high heels when the phone rang. It was early; still only five thirty. Normally she would have ignored it but she was in a good mood brought on by post-masturbatory bliss and she click-clacked down the stairs to answer the red phone, dressed only in her lingerie.

“TV Julie,” she whispered into the receiver in the sultry tone she used for customers.

“What are you wearing?” Donald whispered; he was so nervous he could barely speak and realised that he sounded stupid as soon as the words left his lips.

“Piss off, tosser!” Julie hung up the phone and reached for her Consulates.

The phone rang again and Julie snatched it up ready to give a mouthful of expletives to the idiot on the other end of the line.

“Don’t hang up. I’m sorry; I know I sounded like a tosser,” Donald said, his tone genuinely conciliatory.

There was something in the man’s tone and his educated accent that appealed to Julie. It was hard to make an assumption based on a telephone conversation but the man sounded genuinely sorry, a little nervous, but also sanguine.

Julie lit the cigarette dangling from her red lipsticked lips.

“Mostly white. A satin full-slip, full-cut knickers and a brassiere that I've yet to stuff with my false tits,” Julie decided to have a little fun with him.

“Hosiery?” the man whispered hopefully.

“Tan, or more correctly, flesh-toned, fully fashioned nylon stockings. Black high-heeled courts,” Julie let out a stream of smoke.

“Not those horrible thigh-high boots in your picture?” the man sounded hopeful.

“Hey! Those boots cost me a pretty penny and a lot of my customers like them,” Julie said indignantly but she had to admit that she was enjoying the banter.

“Your legs are too beautiful to be covered by boots,” Donald whispered and immediately realised his mistake.

“How would you know? Have you been here before?” Julie sounded pensive.

“No. But the shape of your legs in those boots leads me to believe they will be even more magnificent just clad in stockings with your feet shod in high heels,” Donald thought he had recovered well.

“Well the clock’s ticking ducky and I’ve got money to make. What can I do for you?” Julie got down to business.

“I have a proposal,” Donald took deep breath.

“I bet you do. Look you’ve read my card. The only thing I’ve got to add is that it’s two quid for hand relief and a fiver for fellatio… that’s if I offer it to you,” Julie wanted to ensure this man knew that she was in charge.

She tapped ash into a cut glass ashtray beside the phone and listened to the man’s heavy breathing. He seemed to making some sort of decision.

“My proposal is as follows. You take on no other customers tonight other than me. I have you to myself for the whole evening and I’ll pay you seventy pounds Stirling,” Donald couldn’t believe that he had actually said it.

Julie was shocked. She’d had all sorts of proposals put her way; most of which were downright disgusting and mostly illegal but this was the first time anyone had asked for her company exclusively other than drunken proposals of ardour from admirers at The Trunk and Brick.

“It’s a tempting offer but I'm not going to say yes. Turn up to my gaff and I’ll take a look at you and if you're clean, healthy and decent looking I’ll consider it. I’m not going to do anything dodgy. The only thing on offer is what’s on the card,” Julie said, half-regretting that she had.

Julie used a lower class cockney type inflection when she was working. It was something that developed naturally. Inside herself she believed that work she was doing was beneath her and if she was to be a whore she might as well sound like one.

Her intuition was to tell this man to throw his hat in the air and take a flying fuck at it but there was something about his manner that tempted her. Besides if he really was some toff with a pocket full of pounds, wouldn’t it be nice to just have one customer to deal with? Someone who sounded like they had a bit of class.

Like most of those posh poseurs, he probably wanted his bottom spanked and to be told he was a naughty boy. If he asked to wear her knickers he was out the door short shrift that was for sure.

“Ok done. If you don’t like the look of me I’ll be on my way. Don’t worry I’m not going to ask you to do anything, what did you call it? Dodgy? I really just want to spend time in your company and of course a kiss and cuddle and whatever else is on offer,” Donald said, hardly believing that he was saying those words.

“Twelve, Black Prince Road, Lambeth,” Julie quipped.

“I won’t be long; wear something nice,” Donald said and hung up the phone with trembling fingers.

Donald leaned on the telephone apparatus for support. His whole body was shaking and his legs felt like they might give way. How could he have done such a thing? Donald knew that Julie was really just Julian dressed as woman. But she wasn’t! He’d seen her, heard her voice; he’d seen her walk and talk. She was a beautiful woman. An alluring sexy woman and the fact that she was anatomically different didn’t repel him; it made him desire her more.

This was madness! He needed to stop this now. Go home! Go down the club and get drunk! Go to a nightclub and pick up a woman more his type! Maybe even pick up a brass who was a real woman! Dare he say it: maybe even call Vivian Huxtable!

All these things recurred to him over and over as Donald Cooper walked the fifteen minutes from Lambeth tube station to twelve, Black Prince Road.

“Wear something nice! Who the fuck did this toff think he was?” Julie fumed.

But secretly she was glad that he had said it. She’d half expected him to ask her to put on dominatrix leathers or a latex catsuit. These were the favourites of those in her flock who were into bondage and discipline. Others liked her dressed as the obligatory French maid, perhaps a secretary or school teacher (she used the same outfit for both). One punter had the audacity to ask if she a nun’s habit!

It would be nice to wear something less costume but still seductive. She settled on a dark suit. The skirt was tight and had a kick-pleat in the back otherwise it would be difficult to walk in. It wasn’t really a mini. It was a pencil skirt that came to just above her knees. That jacket was also tight and fitted over a brilliant white satin blouse. She’d had to lose the full slip she had been wearing earlier and settled on a black rayon half-slip to go under the skirt, otherwise the foundation garments and shoes she was already wearing went perfectly with the outfit.

She poured another drink, lit a cigarette and waited anxiously for her gentleman caller to arrive. She’d seen hundreds of punters since she had started ‘being on the game’ but she had never felt so anxious about a single one. She weeded out most of the loonies over the phone and those that got through her rudimentary screening process were easily dealt with, usually with a whip, a crop, or cane.

But this man seemed different; a rich toff who wanted her all to himself. If he was handsome he might be the man of her dreams she joked to herself and stopped laughing when the doorbell rang.

Donald took a deep breath and pressed the doorbell. He knew that if he hesitated he would never do it and walk away, likely forever. He would probably be thankful that he did but he also knew that he would regret it for the rest of his life. He would spend the evening with this TV Julie person who had somehow enraptured him, captivating his thoughts, ruining his life. He would let her do the things women of her kind were paid to do and he would satisfy both his lust and his curiosity and he would never see her again.

One thing was for sure! He would be going nowhere near what she kept in her knickers under any circumstances!

Donald heard the click-clack of her high heels in the hallway and took a deep breath and forced himself to smile.

Julie opened the door.

Smiling at her was a handsome man with rugged good looks, wearing an expensive suit and polished brogues. His hair was black, thick and lustrous and he reminded Julie of the actor Richard Burton. There was something worryingly familiar about him and Julie couldn’t put his finger on it. He was certainly not one of her regular punters but she was sure she had seen him before.

Julie began to close the door, her senses tingling; sensing danger.

Donald’s heart was filled with dismay.

“The Elephant and Castle!” he blurted out.

Julie stopped with the door half-closed and looked at him quizzically.

“The Trunk and Brick! You asked me how I knew that your legs were beautiful and if I’d been here before. I saw you at The Elephant and Castle. I was amazed at how beautiful you were and then I found your tart card in the bogs,” Donald held out Julie’s tart card, which had crumpled in his hand, as if offering a tribute to a goddess.

It was not really a lie but it wasn’t the full truth.

“Look it’s my first time doing anything like this and I’m a little unsure of myself. You know, being with a err, a… well you know. You’re not going to make this easy for me are you?” Donald sighed.

Julie opened the door and studied the man. She knew that she had seen him before and although his story about seeing her at the Trunk and Brick was believable and likely she was certain that she had seen him somewhere else.

The curtain in the house across the road moved and Julie knew that Mrs Granger, the local gossipmonger, was watching them, gathering more gossip and rumours to spread.

Julie made a split-second decision.

“Come inside,” she looped her hand through the crook of Donald’s arm and pulled him through the door.

Her touch was electrifying. Donald could feel her long delicate fingers through the sleeves of his jacket. Her long red fingernails seemed to dig into his flesh. He knew that he was embellishing and imagining it but the miasma of her sensuous musk was not an illusion and he breathed in deep as he stepped past her.

Julie felt the man’s bicep through the sleeve of his coat and was impressed. His aftershave was something spicy and alluring and she liked it.

Julie closed the door and put her back to it and studied the man closely under the hallway light which was the only light in the house burning brightly. Julie kept it that way so she could examine the punters as they entered. The man was even more handsome under the light with his leonine head, Roman nose and full lips and shock of coiffed black hair. He had an athletic physique despite his age and his suit was cut accordingly.

“Donald Cooper; enchanted to meet you,” a smile lit his face as he leaned in and kissed Julie on the cheek.

Julie had never been kissed on the cheek by any of her punters before. Nor had many of them introduced themselves; they demanded anonymity and they were simply ‘men’. They usually grabbed her by the arse and forced their mouths on hers or they were the opposite: shy and bashful and Julie had to take them by the hand and lead them upstairs.

Julie felt herself taken with this man immediately. She felt stupidly girl-like and overwhelmed by his good looks and his manners but it wasn’t just that. Donald seemed to have a genuine affection for her. How she knew that having just met the man was beyond her. She couldn’t assume anything of the sort and realised that she was being silly.

“Ok you can stay. Seventy quid you said?” Julie was being deliberately cold and aloof to hide her true feelings.

“Seventy it is Julie,” Donald reached for his wallet and Julie realised that she had failed to introduce herself.

But she had no need to, did she? He had her tart card with her name was on it. He was just another punter; albeit a rich one.

Julie eyed the crystal bowl that sat beside the telephone where she kept her keys and loose change and nodded. It was as if for some reason she didn’t want to touch Donald’s money. That doing so would somehow degrade her in his eyes. She knew that she was being stupid but she gave a sigh of relief when Donald laid the crisp fifty pound note along with two tens in the bowl.

“Now the preliminaries are concluded, might I suggest that we move elsewhere, it’s rather crowded here in the hallway,” Donald quipped.

He couldn’t help but drop his eyes to her ankles and calves. There were the culprits! The limbs he had seen peeking out from a pair of trousers. Swathed in nylon stockings, they had beguiled him. But the woman to whom the limbs belonged bore little resemblance to the man on the eight-fifty-five commuter train. This woman was the girl of his dreams.

Julie saw Donald’s gaze descend to her legs. This was not an uncommon scenario; men often lusted after her legs… and her bottom, but in this case she sensed that Donald was appraising her rather than just lusting over her. It was a strange experience and she wondered if she had made the right decision allowing him into her house.

She eyed the seventy pounds in the crystal bowl and decided that if nothing else; the money would come in handy. She took the handset off the red telephone and laid it on the table top so that they would not be disturbed and led Donald into the sitting room.

She’d done this absentmindedly. With one single exception she had always taken her punters upstairs to the workroom.

“May I pour us both a drink?” Donald pointed to her little bar and Julie nodded.

He poured two gin and tonics and brought one over to Julie where she stood in the middle of the room lit only by two dimmed standard lamps.

“You really are beautiful,” he offered Julie her drink and she took it.

Her fingertips lingered briefly on his hand and Donald smiled and sighed. She smiled demurely at him and took a sip.

“I bet you hear that all the time?” Donald said; knowing it was true.

There was no evidence of Julian’s existence in the house. The woman standing before him could have been Julian’s twin sister but there wasn’t a skerrick of manliness about her. She was petite, utterly feminine and ladylike and ridiculously beautiful and desirable. Donald wanted to kiss her like he had never wanted to kiss another a woman in his life but now he was in her presence he was scared. He thought that if he started he would never want to stop.

“As a matter of fact…” Julie was about to reply when Donald stepped into her and kissed her.

It wasn’t lewd or coarse. He held her gently by her elbows and placed his lips on hers and Julie felt herself melt. There was something affectionate and tender about the kiss. Donald’s full lips were gently pressed on hers. She could smell his aftershave and feel the warmth and tender-heartedness in the gesture. His lips were soft and gentle, barley brushing her own. She felt his breath on her cheek as he lingered just long enough not to be lascivious.

Julie felt her cheeks burning as she blushed. Why was she behaving like this? Men came to her house to kiss and fondle her, to grope and manhandle her. She whipped them and spanked them and pulled on their willies until they spurted their essence and left, having paid for the satisfaction they received doing these things to her. She willingly got down on her knees for some of them and suckled their phalluses until they ejaculated in her mouth.

So why was she feeling like an adolescent schoolgirl in the presence of this handsome stranger? He may be behaving like a gentleman for now but soon he would behave just like all the others. He would make her do the things that fed his carnal desires. ‘Make no mistake Julie – he’s just like the others’ she thought to herself.

Julie’s lips were plush and delicate; unlike any other woman he had ever kissed and there had been many. She exuded a magnetism that beguiled him, he could taste her lipstick, smell the cosmetics on her face and the scent of her perfume. Her hair brushed his cheek and he was swept away by the deliciousness of the simple act of kissing her. He wanted their first kiss to go on forever but he broke the kiss and stepped back.

He reached out to stroke her cheek and Julie stepped back alarmed. She wasn’t used to such affectionate gestures and she thought that Donald might be about to slap her. Some punters had done so before.

But Donald reached for her and pressed the back of his hand to cheek and gently stroked it.

“You are such a beautiful creature,” he sighed.

Julie demurred and put down her drink and turned her head slightly so that Donald could stroke her cheek. She stepped into him and pressed herself against him and he enveloped her into his arms.

This kiss was also tender and gentle at first but soon their passions ignited and Julie clung to him as he kissed her with raw passion and desire. She felt safe and secure in his embrace; his toned body pressed against her delicate frame. The root of his manhood thickening against her as the kiss became fervent; mouths opening, tongues intertwining, breathing haggard with desire. Julie was becoming uncomfortably tumescent, her penis swelling, trapped between her buttocks.

“You are a beautiful little minx,” Donald gasped when they finally broke the kiss.

“Do you want to go upstairs,” Julie sighed demurely, catching her breath.

Donald knew what that meant and yes he wanted desperately to take this woman upstairs.

He followed behind her his eyes glued to her buttocks swathed in that impossibly tight skirt. The kick-pleat opened and closed as she ascended, providing him with glimpses of her stocking-sheathed thighs. He had developed a wet patch in the front of his trousers and he’d had to adjust them to cater for the erection growing in his underpants.

Julie led Donald into the workroom and they began to take up where they had left off downstairs; kissing each other, at first tenderly and then as their passions built, more eagerly and lecherously.

Julie felt tiny in his embrace and Donald was scared that he might hurt her but he wanted to hold her close. Julie nestled into him, fitting into him like a jigsaw piece, perfectly aligned to his frame. He had to lean down to kiss her and her head was tilted upward to meet his. She felt like a damsel in a movie, being held by her paladin. Julie imagined that she was the damsel in distress in one of the many books she had read and Donald was her white knight.

She knew that it was a foolish thought. He was merely a man who had paid seventy pounds so that he could have sex with her but her imagination was rife and if the illusion made it more palatable then let it be so.

Donald had rid himself of all thoughts of Julian; there was only Julie ever since he walked through the door and seen her and he couldn’t believe how captivated he was by her. She fitted against his body perfectly, one arm around his neck, the other around his back, holding him close, one long leg hooked around his so that she was moulded to him, her lips pressed to his. He smelled, he tasted her, he heard her shallow breathing, but most of all he felt her and she felt wonderful.

He caressed her buttocks through her tight skirt, the fabric hissing against her satin knickers, the contours of which he could feel with his fingertips. He desperately wanted to touch those knickers. Somewhere deep inside his subconscious he knew that Julie would be different down there; there were things in her knickers that weren't exactly womanly but he wasn’t repulsed. In fact he was inquisitive and excited.

Julie felt him squeezing her buttocks and she liked it. That’s not right… she loved it. Most of her punters played with her arse of course and sometimes she liked it and sometimes she didn’t but she was delighted with Donald doing so. He had a way of squeezing and caressing her buttocks that was both forceful and affectionate. She slipped her tongue a little deeper into his mouth and showed her appreciation by wriggling against him.

She could feel the heft of his manhood pressing into her; his phallus hard long and proud, generating its own heat; its own life force. Julie wanted to touch it, to squeezed it, to stroke it, to put in her mouth and suckle it and dare she say it… she wanted to feel it pressing on her puckered bud. She’d be too scared to take it inside her; it was too big and would tear her apart but the very idea of having that mighty prong pressing dangerously on the entrance between her legs was what excited her the most.

Knowing full well that she would never let him enter her made her feel safe while she relished the fantasy of it.

Donald had moved his hand under her skirt and was exploring the welts of her stockings and the delicate fair skin above them. This was Donald’s territory and he caressed, tickled, stroked and manipulated Julie’s thighs in ways she had never thought imaginable. Her cock was rock hard and trapped uncomfortably between her legs. It ached for release.

Donald had enjoyed immensely caressing Julie’s lovely buttocks and of course he had relished stroking her stocking-sheathed thighs. He adored the feel of her silky hose on his fingertips. He’d traced the backseams of her stocking with his forefinger; he’d stroked the dark bands of the welts at the top of her stockings and had savoured the soft cool flesh above the welts after spending time tinkering with the silver clasps of her garters.

Now his fingers had found the lace trim on the legs of her knickers and were about to explore further. This is where Donald thought he might have a problem and Julie sensed his hesitation.

She had never ever wanted a man to put his hands on her knickers as much as she wanted Donald to do it right now. To stroke them. To caresses them. To slip his fingers inside them and find her penis hard and bloated and pressed to her perineum.

Julie melted in his arms when he did exactly that.

Donald slipped his fingers inside the laced gusset of her full-cut satin knickers and found a perfect V in the front of them but of course there was no mons or labia. Instead his fingers forged on and found her fleshy appendage hard and throbbing, trapped between her legs. He freed it and the organ sprang forward and filled her knickers. Donald wrapped it in the silky satin of her panties and stroked it.

Far from being repulsed, his cock began to throb. It excited him so hear Julie gasp into his mouth, and writhe and wriggle as he pleasured her. His own cock was demanding attention too.

A single tear ran down Julie’s cheek when Donald freed her penis and began to stroke it through her knickers. She was terrified that he would be repulsed by what he found in her panties. She knew that it was his first time with a transvestite and while some men were raptured by the idea of being with a ‘special girl’, some of them were horrified by the reality of it when they actually touched her genitalia.

But Donald hadn't done that. He was caressing her tender root, he was kissing her harder, he was holding her tighter and she could feel his cock throbbing against her. He was enraptured with her and she with him.

She sensed his urgency and she snaked a hand between their bodies and freed his cock from the confines of his trousers. Her small hand could just contain it. She felt the velvety softness of the thin dermis covering the hard erectile tissue; she traced the veins with a fingernail, sensing the blood coursing through them, filling Donald’s cock to make it into the hard, phallic weapon that it had become.

The pad of her fingertip circled his fraenulum while her other fingers lightly caressed his glans. Julie heard Donald gasp and felt him shiver with delight. Then Donald slipped his hand inside her knickers and caressed Julie’s penis in an almost identical manner and she began to shake with the delirium of pleasure he was wrenching from her sensitive organ.

She fell backwards onto the bed and Donald went with her, lying on top of her, covering her with kisses. He pulled her hand out of the way and hiked up her skirt and pressed his penis against hers. Both cocks began to release pre-ejaculate. The feeling of their most sensitive organs pressing and rubbing against each other ignited a flame inside them both.

Donald kicked off his shoes and managed to rip off his trousers and his shirt with Julie’s assistance. They achieved this somehow hardly breaking their kiss. They clung to each other, grinding against each other. Julie lay underneath his hard muscled body, feeling the raw power in him, feeling his manhood pressing against her pulsing penis while he kissed her, his hands alternated between squeezing her buttocks and stroking her thighs.

She was still fully dressed with just her skirt hiked up and her knickers pulled aside to expose her cock which was being massaged by Donald’s bigger, more powerful organ. They kissed and Julie wrapped her stocking-sheathed legs around Donald’s torso and crossed her ankles behind him and locked her hands behind his neck.

She rose up off the bed to meet his thrusts as they ground against each, rubbing cocks, kissing, caressing and experiencing a blissful sensory overload. Donald mistimed a thrust and his cock lunged between Julie’s legs, it pressed on her perineum, the underside of his penis caressed by the sleek satin of her knickers. It felt delightful for them both.

Julie was a little frightened when Donald’s big cock began to press on the soft smooth flesh between her legs, his glans dangerously close to her sphincter. The harder Donald thrust, the closer his cock came to the entrance of her anus.

“You can’t fuck me,” Julie was able to whisper quickly before she returned her mouth to his and kissed him deeply.

She had to admit that it felt glorious to be lying on her back with her arms and legs wrapped around this strong, handsome, powerful man whilst his turgid phallus grazed the sensitive space between her buttocks, his penis sometimes pressing on her sphincter. Rings of pleasure radiated from her groin, her mouth and her body.

Donald felt Julie’s stockings rubbing on his flanks and it delighted him, as did the feel of her heels grazing his back as they rocked together on the bed. Her fingernails were scratching him but they were lightly sensuous and produced a buzzing pleasant sensation that ran down his back and linked with the gratification he was feeling as his cock rubbed on Julie’s tender flesh.

His penis was at full girth, ready to explode. His glans kept hitting Julie’s tight sphincter and he wanted to enter her even though she had told him no.

He’d spied the tube of KY Jelly that Julie had left on the nightstand; the same lubricant that Julie had used on the little dildo she had inserted inside her back passage earlier in the evening. Donald’s cock was many times bigger than the dildo but Donald didn’t know that.

He reached for the lubricant with every intention of greasing up his manhood and piercing her and then he realised how selfish and cruel that would be. It would be an act of betrayal and she would likely refuse to see him again and he wanted to see more of this special woman… lots more.

Julie felt Donald’s thrusts becoming more urgent; his glans pressed on her sphincter and on one or two occasions it opened her just a little. She would be lying if she said it didn’t hurt when he did that, but even her little dildo hurt at first when she used it. She wondered what it would be like to be taken like a woman. What it would be like to feel Donald’s penis deflower her. She recalled the passages in The Story of O where O finally surrendered her anal virginity to her master. She shivered at the very thought of it.

Donald knew that he was being selfish by betraying Julie’s trust so he stopped trying to force his penis into her sphincter and instead relished the feeling of his cock rubbing between her buttocks. He could feel Julie’s cock against his hard belly, leaking an almost continual dribble of pre-ejaculate and he sensed that like he, she was close to extremis.

Donald sighed and reached out to put the KY Jelly back on the nightstand and just as he was about to release it Julie's hand clasped over his. He released the tube and Julie took it from him.

She looked up into his eyes, her own beautiful green eyes filled with uncertainty, devotion and also he thought, perhaps love.

“Be gentle,” Julie whispered and squeezed a good dollop of the slippery clear lubricant on her fingers and found Donald's erection and slavered it with the salve.

She adjusted herself a little, raising her buttocks higher off the bed until Donald’s glans was nestled in her puckered bud. She locked her hands behind his neck and scissored her legs on his torso and looked at him one last time with devotion and trust in her eyes and then she closed her eyes and kissed him hard and pushed upward and Donald’s cock slipped into her tight back passage.

It was as well that Julie was kissing Donald because it stifled her scream as his huge penis split apart her tight puckered bud. Donald felt Julie shudder with the pain of it and her smothered screams reverberated around his mouth, her heels thrummed on his back and her body convulsed.

“I’m so sorry darling,” Donald whispered.

He only had the tip of his penis inside her tight passage but he could tell that the pain was excruciating. He attempted to remove the offending appendage.

“No don’t! I want it Donald. I want it so much. I want you,” Julie sighed.

Donald’s penis felt like a red hot poker had been pushed inside her tight anus but the pain was tolerable after the initial sting and tearing sensation and it slowly became a dull throbbing ache.

But there was something else.

Her stretched sphincter was radiating little sparklets of intense pleasure. It was like when she used the dildo on herself but a hundred times more intense. The feel of Donald’s fleshy rod piercing her tight virgin anus was indescribably pleasurable despite the accompanying pain.

“Let me, please,” Julie whispered as she clung to Donald and leaned up and kissed him softly.

He gazed into her emerald green eyes and saw the pain and watched her wince and grimace, he felt her body recoil and shudder as Julie slowly skewered herself on Donald’s steely member. The feeling was indescribably wonderful as her tight, greased hole opened up to envelope and clench his turgid phallus. It was like his cock was being gripped tightly by a velvet glove.

The feel of Julie’s tiny body under him, her silken limbs grazing his tender flesh, her slippery satin knickers tickling his scrotum, her soft lips kissing him, the smell of her, the feel of her was overloading his senses. His heart soared with something he had never felt before. The sacrifice she was making in order to deliver to him the most intense pleasure he had ever experienced was unimaginable.

Julie had never felt so affectionate and cherished as she did lying under Donald Cooper. She sensed his distress for the pain that he was causing her but she needed to make him understand how wonderfully content she felt as she slowly speared herself on his long thick penis. Every inch that entered her caused her immeasurable pain but at the same time infinite and unbounded pleasure.

Julie sighed with contentment when she finally had all of Donald inside her. Her sphincter had finally relaxed and the intense burning sensation was replaced by ringlets of decadence and contentment; her anus felt stretched to full capacity but it radiated a deep throbbing resonance that was almost indefinable. The glans of Donald’s penis was pressing on her prostate which emitted pulses of rapture that coursed through her body, lighting up her pleasure centres.

Julie’s cock was pressed against Donald’s tight belly and every little movement he made amplified the satisfaction she was feeling. Runnels of pre-ejaculate oozed from the eye of it and Donald felt it pulsing on his flesh and it delighted him.

He leaned down and opened his mouth and kissed Julie with a deep languid kiss, his tongue slipping inside her mouth, exploring it as she clung to him, her nails raking his shoulders, her stocking-clad legs clutching at him, her heels digging into the small of his back, girding him on, encouraging him to fuck her.

Donald began to slowly thrust himself in and out of Julie’s tight passage and she whimpered under him, shuddering with the ecstasy of it, encouraging him, rising up to meet his thrusts as he grasped her knickered buttocks in his hands and drove his steely cock in and out of Julie’s tight, greasy anus.

They climaxed as one. Julie felt Donald’s cock swell inside her and then then erupt, depositing his issue deep inside her as she simultaneously ejaculated against his belly. Waves of pleasure enveloped them both as they clung to each other like shipwreck survivors on a tumultuous sea. They kissed and moaned and held each other tight as Donald drove his cock deep into Julie’s bowel and gave her his seed. He felt her scalding semen on his belly as she orgasmed right along with him, her heels drumming on his back; he stifled her screams of pleasure with his mouth.

They lay sated and still, neither of them fully comprehending the magic they had illicited from each other. Donald had never felt such a rush of indescribable satisfaction. His cock was still deep inside Julie’s anus and was still fully erect and he could feel Julie’s penis pulsing gently against his belly as the last dribbles of her spunk leaked from it. Far from feeling repulsed, he felt satiated and delighted.

Julie was incapable of speech. She felt like she had climbed the highest peak of a jagged and dangerous mountain range and overcome pain and suffering to experience the most exhilarating pleasure. She could feel Donald’s cock still buried deep inside her anus but she was no longer experiencing pain, only a deep pleasurable pulsing. She tightened her sphincter around his shaft and Donald smiled down at her.

“Was that deliberate?” he asked.

Julie nodded.

“I didn’t know I could do that,” she smiled up him salaciously.

“Do it again,” Donald whispered.

She grinned at him and did it again and pulled his face to hers so she could kiss him while she used her legs and heels to encourage him to fuck her a second time.

Later they lay in bed smoking, Julie stripped down to her lingerie and stockings and Donald naked, unable to stop touching each other tenderly and softly kissing as they talked deep into the night. Donald told Julie everything about him. Julie listened, taking sips of her gin and tonic as Donald told his tale. When he had finished she said nothing.

“Where’s Julian?” Donald asked.

Julie froze.

At that moment she both loved and hated Donald. She hated him because he had brought up Julian and he was the furthest thing from her mind. She loved him because he spoke about Julian as if he was another person; which to Julie he was.

Julie explained her complicated life to Donald, talking about Julian in the third person as if he was another entity and the only thing they had in common was the bookshop and a shared body. Julie told Donald that if there was any way possible that she could live her life as Julie and sacrifice Julian’s existence she would.

Donald ruminated on Julie’s story and got out of bed to freshen their drinks and bring more cigarettes. He climbed back into bed and Julie snuggled up to him and playfully jiggled his limp penis and Donald unashamedly jiggled hers as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

“I think I wore him out,” Julie giggled and kissed Donald on the cheek.

“I think so. You too,” he let go of her flaccid ember and kissed her on the lips and then lay back and stared at the ceiling contemplating what he was about to say to her.

“So I told you that I’m a lawyer. Without bragging I’m a pretty good one and pretty high up on the judicial ladder. I know a bunch of judges, magistrates and government officials who owe me many favours. I also have contacts in a few of the more notorious underworld firms who can do things for me that can’t be done legitimately,” Donald began.

“So?” Julie was puzzled.

“What if I told you that I could make Julian disappear and make you a legitimate person; a real woman legally if not anatomically, although there are some improvements I can organise for you if you would like them,” he continued.

Julie snuggled up to him.

“Go on,” she whispered in his ear.

Donald and Julie - London, December 1964

Donald packed his briefcase and on the way out of his office he stopped to kiss Gillian Snodgrass on the cheek and wish her a merry Christmas.

“Merry Christmas to you too and give my love to Julie,” Gillian smiled at him affectionately.

“I most certainly will,” Donald returned Gillian’s smile.

Gillian was one of a very small group of people who knew about Julie’s past.

Donald left the law office of Donald Cooper, Esq - Attorney At Law. He had not regretted leaving Cooper, Stanley, Price and Waterman and striking out on his own, taking Gillian Snodgrass with him as his personal law clerk. His practice was thriving and things could not be better.

His divorce with Deirdre was settled amicably and she had left England to live in France with some French aristocrat who treated her like a queen and he was happy for her.

He whistled as he walked down Piccadilly Circus and stopped outside a familiar establishment and looked up at the gilt sign above the door. Clifford’s Books and Sundries it read. Julie Clifford Proprietor it said in smaller writing below the main sign.

Donald looked through the window and saw the love of his life tending to the last customer of the day. The customer left the shop carrying a gift wrapped book and Donald nodded to him and slipped through the door, switching the sign from OPEN to CLOSED.

Gone were the wigs and costume jewellery. She was wearing a stylish and expensive skirt-suit, her hair perfectly coiffed, the diamonds glittering on her neck and dangling from her ears were real. The identity documents in her purse were real; well real to the extent that her existence could be verified in the government offices of her Britannic Majesty.

Julie broke into a smile and ran to meet him, folding herself into his arms like she was always meant to be there. Donald, as always, relished the touch of his common-law wife. Julie had not long returned from America where she had undertaken mammoplasty surgery and was proud of her new breasts which she pressed against Donald as she smiled up him.

“Thought I’d let you cop a feel of the Christmas present you gave me,” she winked at him salaciously.

“Don’t talk so crudely Miss or I might have to spank you,” Donald chuckled.

“You’ll have to catch me first,” Julie bolted from his arms and ran into the stacks of bookshelves.

Donald caught a glimpse of nylon-stocking-sheathed calf as she ducked around the corner and was immediately aroused.

He locked the door and chased after her.

The End

Author’s Note: Thank you all so much for enjoying my story and leaving your comments. An intellectual once wrote: "Writing should almost always be a communication between writer and reader, and therefore feedback is the best way to sample how that communication is developing." Kisses and hugs to you all and I wish you all the best for new year.