Date: Tue, 19 Mar 2002 23:35:24 +0000 (GMT)
From: Justin Silk <pantonius@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: Paul & Nicole - Part Three. TG

Paul & His French Maid

Copyright JustinSilk 2002. All Rights Reserved

Chapter Five : Into her Pants

Over the next week, Nicole and I fell deeper and deeper in love.

I had expected her to be less charming and more demanding as the days went
by, but, if anything, she simply became more and more adorable.

She gradually moved in the rest of her possessions -- helped by her
brother, an openly-gay and strikingly handsome man perhaps a year or so
older than Nicole. It was obvious that, like her, he came from a very good
family.

Since the university semester did not start for a week or so, there was
little evidence of Nicole's academic career. One night when I came home,
she was reading some lecture notes she had written during the day and the
room we had turned into her study was strewn with books -- mostly in French
-- on painters of the period she principally taught.

It was the first time I had seen her in glasses and, not surprisingly,
given my feelings for her, I instantly adored her intellectual appearance.

She was a strange mixture of the enormously-intelligent academic and the
air-headed slut. It was a wonderful combination.

I had studied art during my younger days and still had a great love for
painting in particular. I couldn't believe my luck.

It was probably on the Wednesday evening that Nicole suggested she take me
to a club she knew for dinner. It would be our first outing-- in both
senses of the word - together.

We showered, of course and, naturally, made love as we did so.  [I won't
bore you with the details: making love in the shower to a beautiful woman
is, after all, a common enough pastime].

When she was satisfied that we were both squeaky-clean, Nicole led me to my
[our] bedroom and took charge of getting us ready to go out. I say `us'
because she was very anxious that I should be dressed to her satisfaction
just as she expected to dress for my approval.

"Because you are such a `unk - is that the right word? -- I shall get very
excited if you are wearing ... this."

>From one of her lingerie drawers she produced a tiny pair of pure white
silk jersey panties.

They were very similar to a male silk bikini style I sometimes wore
myself. But, unlike my own briefs, it was obvious even as she held them up
for my appraisal that they were hand-made.

"You want me to wear a pair of your panties?" I asked quietly.

"Why would that turn you on? I thought you loved me because I am
all-man. How could my wearing your silky briefs give you a buzz? If you
want me to, of course I'll wear them, I love the feeling of silk, always
have, but I can't see what's in it for you."

"You `ave never been excited by knowing something -- a secret - that nobody
else can know?" Nicole was smiling faintly.

"Of course I have. But I can't put myself into your mind, can I? I mean,
I'm me and you're you and no matter how close we are, I can't ever have
exactly the same thoughts as you."

"Paul, I can't explain why I want you to do it, I just do. I definitely
don't want to turn you into somebody like me. But a very masculine man
wearing something very feminine always seems to me to be the man's ultimate
expression of confidence. I would not recommend you wear a bra. With your
physique it would just be too amusing. But these teensie weensie silky sexy
panties. Just sooooo érotique.  But darling, if you don't want to, I
won't force you, my gorgeous, wonderful lover."

The truth was that I loved sexy underwear and had several silk items --
men's, of course -- of my own. But I took the panties from Nicole and,
taking her into my arms, kissed her, our cocks rubbing against each other
as I did.

"Tell me about the Club," I said.

"The club is ..."

Nicole stopped mid-thought and taking the panties from my hand, ordered me
to step into them so she could slide them up my legs.

"The club is ... what?" I asked.

"I can't remember what I was going to say, darling," she replied softly as
she took my stiffening cock and carefully arranged it inside the gleaming
satin. "You'll see."

"Is it some academic place? You said it was not far from the university."

"Yes. Quite close. But not h'academic. Aesthetically, I like it. It appeals
more to my, er, senses than to my mind. But you will like it, I am sure.
Let it be a surprise darling. I am paying. Just look at yourself in the
mirror. Don't you look so very sexy in those tiny briefs? The starkness of
the white against the bronze of your skin. The softness of the silk around
the hardness of your shaft. Well, I think you look very sexy. And that is
all that matters, n'est-ce pas? Oui? Look how they cling to your beautiful
cock. Why don't all men wear sexy lingerie like that?"

It's very hard to argue with the one you love about something he or she
thinks erotic. So I smiled and agreed. I agreed because she was right. The
femininity of the very plain and very tiny white silk garment seemed to
emphasise the muscularity of my well-tanned body and, therefore, my total
masculinity. The silk being so fine, the panties showed very clearly the
contours of my swollen cock. But Nicole was now getting dressed herself,
satisfied that I had done what she wished.

She started with an underwired platform bra in the same delicate jersey as
`my' panties, but in black and edged with fine french lace. It left her
swollen nipples to peak out from behind the lace. I had imagined that she
would next choose a matching garter belt with six suspenders for each
stocking, such as she normally wore. Instead she slipped on a pair of black
silk panties (like mine save that they were trimmed with the same lace as
the bra and garter belt. My god, she looked beautiful.

As I was buttoning my shirt I watched her roll a sheer stocking up over a
beautiful leg. She then repeated the process on the other leg. They stayed
up of their own accord.

I noticed, also, that she hadn't worn a gaff to hide her one remaining male
attribute as I had seen her do once or twice before. I would soon enough
discover why not.

The black silk slip or chemise -- I can't work out if there is a difference
-- was obviously new. I loved the cut of it and the intimations of erotic
pleasures in its gleaming softness. I think that slips are my favourite
items of female attire. I imagined they must be very erotic to the
wearer. Something like fabric fingers.

Nicole selected a torso-tight black dress, flared from the hips, and
caressed it down over her curves, turning to the mirror to check its
lift. I saw a flash of stocking-top as it lifted very prettily.

Finally, she took from her - what do they call it in the US? -- closet, a
glistening black fur bolero jacket, to guard against the cold night
air. Delicate little high black pumps with needle heels completed the
ensemble. The effect was stunning. I applauded with fast and tiny little
claps to show my appreciation.

"Darling, you look adorable. Though won't the little bulge in your tiny
panties, um, spoil the illusion? Should we dance and your hem go up, I
mean?"

"Little? My bulge is as big as yours, almost. What is that song they used
to sing? `Don't worry. Be `appy'. I am happy -- very - as you see."

And so that I didn't mistake what she was saying, my gorgeous Nicole drew
her perfectly-manicured fingernails sexily up over her crotch, lifting the
skirt to reveal the well-packed panties.

What was a man to say?

Nicole called for a taxi. We had decided that whenever we went out we would
go by taxi, since, although neither of us drinks a great deal, Nicole, in
particular, was quite strict about drink-driving.

Being new to the city, I had no idea where we were going, but as the taxi
drew to a halt outside a very grand building on the fringe of the downtown
area I felt reassured. A young man in a top hat and uniform stepped out of
the doorway to open the door of the cab. This club of Nicole's was clearly
not run-of-the-mill. Stepping out of the car, I turned to help my beautiful
escort into the street.

I paid the driver and since I had my wallet in my hand, handed a tip to the
doorboy. "Thank you, sir," he said. "If you and madame will follow me."

So he was sharp, too, noticing Nicole's accent. Calling her `madame' he
looked her very intently in the eye.

When we reached the front door he rang a bell and the door was opened by
another young man who was instructed to show us into the club. This boy was
clearly younger than and junior to the doorman. He wasn't wearing a top
hat, but his uniform appeared otherwise to be very similar to that of the
man who had brought us to the door.

At least that's the way it seemed until we stepped through the door and in
the light of the lobby I was able to see some differences. They almost made
me gasp.

He was practically naked, or might as well have been, so little did what
clothes he wore conceal.

It was clear that one was supposed to admire his body. And there was a
great deal to admire about it. The short black jacket with its satin lapels
was made of something that looked like chiffon and hugged his muscular
upper body as a glove clings to the hand. Or a well-fitted black condom
another part of the anatomy.

Perhaps appropriately, the boy's pants, also of some dark diaphanous shiny
material, would have revealed the hairs on his legs had there been any. You
won't be surprised then to hear that, since he appeared to have forgotten
his underwear, his considerable organ of generation was more than
adequately displayed.

Nicole noticed the startled look on my face.

"How would you like to suck on that, darling?" she whispered with a giggle.

I had no idea what to reply and, when our usher asked us to follow him I
did so with startled and slightly embarrassed fascination. Not wishing to
look uncool, I hoped that nobody would notice.

In spite of his outfit not being what the average young fashion-conscious
male was, so far as I knew, wearing on the street, there was nothing
overtly effeminate about him. He didn't mince, although I couldn't help
watching the firm orbs of his backside undulate and rub against each other
as he walked.

I wondered if perhaps I should offer him the little panties I was
wearing. But that, I thought, would make the effect even more erotic. And,
in the way of these things (although I can't think why) I was reminded of
something I hadn't thought of for years.

Some years earlier, in London, at the home of a colleague, I had seen a
black and white photo. It was one of the most erotic and disturbing images
I had ever seen.

As we discussed our business matters I found the large, framed print behind
my colleague's head extremely distracting.

"Sexy, isn't it?" he smiled, noticing my interest.

"It's of a man called Peter Berlin. He took the picture himself."
Redundantly, he added, "He's gay." Then, becoming embarrassed and probably
wanting to change the subject, added, "Quite clever, his use of
double-exposure, I always think."

 Emulsions, stop numbers and film speeds were far from my mind ... and I
wasn't even gay. But I was getting a hard-on.

In the picture, Berlin, wearing a transparent body-clinging top, tiny
see-through string pouch and -- I think - boots and socks, stands over a
supplicant and aroused youth, also portrayed by himself.

"What a beautiful ass," commented Nicole unnecessarily, noticing that my
attention was rivetted to the motion of our attendant's muscular
orbs. "It's giving me a stiffy."

"You are with me, remember?" I said, surprised at my annoyance. The first
little flash of anger I had shown since we'd met.

I wondered briefly what this was all about. Was I angry with Nicole? Or
with my own fascination with the beautiful ass? Was it Nicole's focussing
my attention on it? Was I, as the phrase goes, `in denial'? My own sexual
denial - was that what was getting under my skin? "I've got you under my
skin."

Nicole kissed me on the cheek.

"Oh. Can it be? My wonderful lover is unsure of himself? Paul, cheri, don't
be silly. I'm a woman and I like men's asses. I LOVE yours. I love YOU. But
I can't help admiring a beautiful ass. Don't be silly."

As she took my hand and tugged lovingly on my arm, I relaxed and
smiled. The world was dishing out faster then I could ingest. Let alone
digest. It was serving faster than I could return.

I was on a learning curve that rose more sharply than even my dick so
frequently had done these past few days. Normally - if there is such a
state - most days for most people are groundhogged, if you know what I
mean. The same things seem to happen in more or less the same
sequence. Over and over and over and over. We like it that way.

What a lot can be crammed into a few paces along a corridor.

Nicole reached up and bussed me on the cheek again as we approached an
impressive doorway.

Two twelve- or fifteen-foot doors grew in impressiveness as we
approached. To their right on the wall was a discreet plaque bearing a
single word: "Xtase".

I read it first as Xtease, then, re-reading it, thought it could be the
name of some artificial sweetener. Finally, I realised that it was a
misspelling of the French for ecstasy.

In fact, I was about to discover, it might have represented all three.

We were ushered through the doors into a large and graciously-furnished
room in which a number of people were standing in groups.

They were all elegantly dressed, men and women in equal numbers.

There was the usual buzz of conversation and laughter.

Few took any notice of our entry.

We were asked politely to sign the guest book by a young lady in an elegant
but revealing short black shantung dress which flared slightly at the hem
and showed a majority of her sensationally long and shapely legs.

The automatic thought that the legs were the shortest route to an
equally-astonishing butt sprang into my mind.  A glimpse of stocking-top
had me mentally humming a snatch of Cole Porter. What I had seen in the
past few minutes had indeed been shocking.

"I can't bear it any longer, sweet lady," I said to Nicole. "Where am I?"

Nicole looked me seriously in the eyes, her own flicking from one to the
other and suggesting her own anxiety.

"Darling, this is one of the most exclusive clibs in town. In fact, it's
very `ard to become a member. I `ave belong for only two month."

Nicole's pronunciation of club made me smile as she was interrupted by a
waiter who brought a silver tray on which sat two glasses of champagne. I
didn't dare inspect his clothing.

"But what kind of club?" I pressed.

"You will see. Just notice that there are other girls like me. And ordinary
men and women, too. Also, sometimes quite well-known people, men, who like
to dress like ladies. People like to come here because it is sooooooo
discreet. And fun. And sexy. Not ... what's the word? ... sleazy, just
sexy. The sexiest clib I ever went to."

With the champagne in my hand, I felt less uncomfortable. Until, that is,
from behind my back, I heard a laugh which I immediately wished I hadn't
recognised.

"Oh no," I moaned.

"Quoi?"

"That's Harvey's laugh. What will he think if he sees me here?'

"What do you think now you know he's here?"

Nicole was right, of course. A friend of mine, a longtime member of a
Twelve-Step group, had suffered for years from his particular addiction,
frightened to go to the meeting that undoubtedly saved his life in case he
might be known by some other member.

"Darling, if you want to go, we'll go. I didn't think you would be so . . .
sensitive. Of course you feel a little strange, but there are many people
here just like you. No, there is nobody here just like you. I promise you
that you will have a wonderful time. Of course you will be a little
shocked, just as you were when you, er, discover about me."

"That was in private."

"So you are embarrassed by me. You don't want people to know that you are
in love with -- if you really are -- a transsexual. You are frightened that
people will think that you are gay. Your mind is in conflict with itself. I
love you, Paul. I can't believe how much I love you. When you are asleep I
lie beside you listening to your breathing, your awful snoring, your
talking to yourself. This is serious, mon ange. Very serious. If you feel
this way now after the most exciting days of your life, after I have tell
you things I have never tell to anybody else, what are we to do after a
month, a year, two years?"

Tears welled in the beautiful eyes I wanted to look away from. Everything
Nicole said was true. I needed time to think, but that would give her time
to think as well, about all the negatives in our relationship.

"If you want we will leave now, Paul and I will go back to stay with my
brother. Or we can talk some more about this at dinner, although I am no
longer wishing to eat. Let us go."

I had gone cold with fear. I had insulted Nicole with my comment about
private being different from public. Something told me to pull her to
me. She resisted, for a moment. Then she relaxed into my arms, little sobs
slowly stopping.

"Oh Paul, I love you so much. I never thought about how you will feel when
we have to meet people. I have a doctorate and I like to think I am not
stupid. But tonight I am so stupid. It's too early to bring you here,
especially since you did not know to what I was bringing you."

I lifted her chin.

"I am at least as stupid. I'm so sorry about saying that our first
encounter was in private. I didn't mean it the way it sounded. It was
different. But you are right. How long could two people in love keep
themselves to themselves. Perhaps seeing the boys in their outlandish
outfits and ..."

Nicole smiled.

"We are both, what do you say, dick'ead. Of course there are
complications. Perhaps they are more difficult than for ordinary
lovers. Even gay lovers. But I really believe that we love each other. Even
more important, we like each other. Complications can be solved. I don't
want to lose you."

"Would you care for more drinks sir, madame?"

The bottleblond with the carefully-applied lash-lengthener radiated some
high-powered cologne in my direction. "Or are you ready to be seated for
dinner?"

"We'll be seated, I think. Will that be OK with you madame?" Looking at the
sad little creature, I smiled. She reached up and kissed me lovingly on the
lips.

"I'll just go and repair my makeup. Then we'll go in to dinner."

"Very good, madame," said the pretty waiter.

Alone, I looked around the room to see if I could spot Harvey. I hoped I
wouldn't. I did. And he me.

He winked -- I wish he wouldn't do that -- and, making apologies to the
lady to whom he was talking, came over.

"Hey, Paul. Good to see yah. Didn't know you were a member, though. And
where's that gorgeous Nicole?"

We could have been at a football game, so unsurprised was Harvey at seeing
me here.

"What a surprise to see you here. Having been in this town for less than
three months, I don't expect to meet many faces I recognise. It's quite a
place. Been here before?"

Harvey laughed.

"Been here before? I been here almost every night since it opened last
year. I'll let you in on a secret: I own the joint. Or a large part of
it. But I don't put it about. Don't talk about my investments all that
much."

"Larry! Quel surprise! What are you doing here?"

Nicole slipped a hand into mine and squeezed it as she directed a cold
smile towards Harvey.

"Larry, or Harvey as he prefers to be called, owns the place. But don't
tell a soul."

Harvey laughed heartily again. "Larry. I love it, Michelle."

The hatred between the two of them was fresh and effective.

"Oh Harvey, excuse me. I once knew a man in London called Larry and `is
second name was `arvey. I am a very bad person. Please forgive me."

Harve wasn't the kind of guy to get the wrong side of. And since he lived
in the next apartment, I was grateful that Nicole picked up on the fact.

"Honey, a doll like you is automatically forgiven. If there's anything to
forgive, which there isn't. Anytime you get tired of this hunk, you know
where I live. Only kiddin', Paul."

Our waiter, watching his boss chatting to us, hovered and Harvey called him
over.

"Gaston, I want you to take special care of Mr Paul and Miss Nicole here
tonight. Anything they want, they get, OK? They are very good friends of
mine. Please give them the VIT suite or if that's taken, my own. I shan't
be here tonight."

"Very well, Mr Harvey. Mr Paul, Miss Nicole, I shall wait over here until
you are ready to go to table."

The waiter lowered his head and walked across to the end of the bar where
he stood quietly waiting.

"Gaston is French. Quite a looker, too, huh?" asked Harvey. "He'll take
excellent care of you tonight. I'm sorry I can't be with you, but I have to
do the rounds. Now where's Sharee? See you soon."

He blew us each a kiss and headed for the exit.

This was turning out to be one amazing evening.




Copyright © JustinSilk 2002. All Rights Reserved

Chapter Six : Club Feat

The VIT Suite was a fairly spacious room with a dinner table for two next
to a window overlooking what looked like a dance floor. To say that it was
sumptuous would almost be an understatement.

Our waiter asked if we would like more champagne and poured two glasses. He
pointed out various controls -- for temperature, lighting, sound, service,
etc - on the console beside the table, then retired, explaining that nobody
could enter the room unexpectedly nor see in through the window.

"Your complete privacy is guaranteed. I shall bring your choice of dishes
and wines. Please choose from the menu and when you are ready, speak to me
by this telephone.  I hope you have a most enjoyable evening."

As soon as he closed the door, Nicole was in my arms.

"Oh, Paul, please forgive me. I was so thoughtless bringing you here
tonight. I hope so much you ..."

I didn't give her a chance to finish. It's very difficult to talk with your
mouth full of your lover's tongue. It was a long and lingering kiss and it
excited both of us considerably.

By its end, the crown of my cock had pushed out of the little silk panties
Nicole had asked me to wear and the bulge in Nicole's panties was
considerably more substantial than it had been when we entered the room. I
felt it.

"Um, I want you so much. But now I am hungry. You, too? We should order."
It seemed that Nicole was also a very practical woman.

The dinner was superb and as soon as it was finished Nicole stripped down
to her expensive and exquisite undies.

"Why don't you do the same?" she suggested.

"Are you sure that nobody can see in through the window?" I asked.

"Go and see for yourself."

Beside the big window was a door on to the dancefloor and, being cautious,
I decided to do as Nicole suggested. One or two couples were dancing
romantically and I was surprised when our door opened and Nicole in her
very sexy undies came out and joined me, guiding me to the dance floor.

"Will you dance with me, monsieur?"

More and more couples were coming on to the floor and we danced as I
relaxed more.

Several couples were in their underwear, male and ... female? I couldn't be
sure about the women.

Most, to be sure, were attractive, but none as beautiful as the woman in my
arms.

Eventually, after a sance or two, the lights dimmed and a husky voice
greeted us: "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Xtase ... your city's most
exclusive, most exotic, most exciting and now ... most explicit place of
entertainment. Ladies and gentlemen, Xtase is proud to present for your
erotic pleasure `The Transformaidens'. Please return to the complete
privacy of your suite, make yourselves comfortable, kick back and enjoy the
show."

 I had sampled enough champagne now and felt reassured enough by Nicole to
feel comfortable as we settled down on the banquette to watch the show. The
table had been moved while we had been dancing and a note on the banquette
assured us that we would not be disturbed further, but that should we wish
anything we could ring for service at any time.

"Come here, gorgeous man," said Nicole, who was in the best of moods. We
kissed passionately and I was then stripped to my panties by my adorable
lover.

The show, as you've probably guessed, was not what you'd expect at your
local dramatic society.

The arena was plunged into complete darkness. An excellent sound system in
the suite delivered an orchestra as two follow-spots picked out a very
handsome couple who walked towards each other as they began singing a love
song -- I don't know what it was called -- written it would seem,
especially for the show.

It wasn't bad and the lyrics were tasteful enough and titillating at the
same time.

They told each other in song how they had longed for each other since the
time they first met and described the things that had caught each other's
imagination.

Where the song varied from traditional love songs was in the slow and
careful striptease that took place as it was being sung.

Behind them a huge four-poster bed suggested that they were young lovers
about to consummate their love for each other. I would have thought they
would have been more urgent, but love has to give way to art I suppose.

While this was going on, Nicole began to stroke me through my little silk
panties and it wasn't long before my cock flicked out of them and stood,
oozing precum which Nicole was soon licking up, prior to plunging her mouth
down the length of my cock.

Something similar was happening on the stage, where it had become obvious
that the voices we were hearing were not those of the performers, who had
retired to the bed.

As the song continued -- the melody anyway - the action in the arena became
more explicit.

The woman tore off the man's jacket. She removed his tie. Unbuttoned his
shirt to reveal a muscular and hairy chest. Then ripped open his pants to
reveal a massive and impressively-hard cock, the head of which gleamed
erotically in the spotlight. There was no doubt in my mind that this guy
was genuinely turned on.

Now completely nude, the young hunk allowed himself to be administered to
by his beautiful young girlfriend. As she played with his cock, he started
to strip her. Her tasteful black cocktail dress went with a single movement
of his right arm, leaving her in a black satin basque, silk stockings and
very high-heeled pumps.

Pulling her into his arms, he pushed his prick between her legs and began
making suggestive movements with his hips.

I don't suppose I should have been surprised that when the man turned her
around and tore off her tiny black silk thong, he revealed that she, too,
had the most enormous hard-on.

I'm sure the idea is now clear to you. Suffice to say that Nicole and I
were very tired by the time we got home.



Chapter Five : Into her Pants

Over the next week, Nicole and I fell deeper and deeper in love.

I had expected her to be less charming and more demanding as the days went
by, but, if anything, she simply became more and more adorable.

She gradually moved in the rest of her possessions -- helped by her
brother, an openly-gay and strikingly handsome man perhaps a year or so
older than Nicole. It was obvious that, like her, he came from a very good
family.

Since the university semester did not start for a week or so, there was
little evidence of Nicole's academic career. One night when I came home,
she was reading some lecture notes she had written during the day and the
room we had turned into her study was strewn with books -- mostly in French
-- on painters of the period she principally taught.

It was the first time I had seen her in glasses and, not surprisingly,
given my feelings for her, I instantly adored her intellectual appearance.

She was a strange mixture of the enormously-intelligent academic and the
air-headed slut. It was a wonderful combination.

I had studied art during my younger days and still had a great love for
painting in particular. I couldn't believe my luck.

It was probably on the Wednesday evening that Nicole suggested she take me
to a club she knew for dinner. It would be our first outing-- in both
senses of the word - together.

We showered, of course and, naturally, made love as we did so.  [I won't
bore you with the details: making love in the shower to a beautiful woman
is, after all, a common enough pastime].

When she was satisfied that we were both squeaky-clean, Nicole led me to my
[our] bedroom and took charge of getting us ready to go out. I say `us'
because she was very anxious that I should be dressed to her satisfaction
just as she expected to dress for my approval.

"Because you are such a `unk - is that the right word? -- I shall get very
excited if you are wearing ... this."

>From one of her lingerie drawers she produced a tiny pair of pure white
silk jersey panties.

They were very similar to a male silk bikini style I sometimes wore
myself. But, unlike my own briefs, it was obvious even as she held them up
for my appraisal that they were hand-made.

"You want me to wear a pair of your panties?" I asked quietly.

"Why would that turn you on? I thought you loved me because I am
all-man. How could my wearing your silky briefs give you a buzz? If you
want me to, of course I'll wear them, I love the feeling of silk, always
have, but I can't see what's in it for you."

"You `ave never been excited by knowing something -- a secret - that nobody
else can know?" Nicole was smiling faintly.

"Of course I have. But I can't put myself into your mind, can I? I mean,
I'm me and you're you and no matter how close we are, I can't ever have
exactly the same thoughts as you."

"Paul, I can't explain why I want you to do it, I just do. I definitely
don't want to turn you into somebody like me. But a very masculine man
wearing something very feminine always seems to me to be the man's ultimate
expression of confidence. I would not recommend you wear a bra. With your
physique it would just be too amusing. But these teensie weensie silky sexy
pantie. Just sooooo érotique.  But darling, if you don't want to, I
won't force you, my gorgeoous, wonderful lover."

The truth was that I loved sexy underwear and had several silk items --
men's, of course -- of my own. But I took the panties from Nicole and,
taking her into my arms, kissed her, our cocks rubbing against each other
as I did.

"Tell me about the Club," I said.

"The club is ..."

Nicole stopped mid-thought and taking the panties from my hand, ordered me
to step into them so she could slide them up my legs.

"The club is ... what?" I asked.

"I can't remember what I was going to say, darling," she replied softly as
she took my stiffening cock and carefully arranged it inside the gleaming
satin. "You'll see."

"Is it some academic place? You said it was not far from the university."

"Yes. Quite close. But not h'academic. Aesthetically, I like it. It appeals
more to my, er, senses than to my mind. But you will like it, I am sure.
Let it be a surprise darling. I am paying. Just look at yourself in the
mirror. Don't you look so very sexy in those tiny briefs? The starkness of
the white against the bronze of your skin. The softness of the silk around
the hardness of your shaft. Well, I think you look very sexy. And that is
all that matters, n'est-ce pas? Oui? Look how they cling to your beautiful
cock. Why don't all men wear sexy lingerie like that?"

It's very hard to argue with the one you love about something he or she
thinks erotic. So I smiled and agreed. I agreed because she was right. The
femininity of the very plain and very tiny white silk garment seemed to
emphasise the muscularity of my well-tanned body and, therefore, my total
masculinity. The silk being so fine, the panties showed very clearly the
contours of my swollen cock. But Nicole was now getting dressed herself,
satisfied that I had done what she wished.

She started with an underwired platform bra in the same delicate jersey as
`my' panties, but in black and edged with fine french lace. It left her
swollen nipples to peak out from behind the lace. I had imagined that she
would next choose a matching garter belt with six suspenders for each
stocking, such as she normally wore. Instead she slipped on a pair of black
silk panties (like mine save that they were trimmed with the same lace as
the bra and garter belt. My god, she looked beautiful.

As I was buttoning my shirt I watched her roll a sheer stocking up over a
beautiful leg. She then repeated the process on the other leg. They stayed
up of their own accord.

I noticed, also, that she hadn't worn a gaff to hide her one remaining male
attribute as I had seen her do once or twice before. I would soon enough
discover why not.

The black silk slip or chemise -- I can't work out if there is a difference
-- was obviously new. I loved the cut of it and the intimations of erotic
pleasures in its gleaming softness. I think that slips are my favourite
items of female attire. I imagined they must be very erotic to the
wearer. Something like fabric fingers.

Nicole selected a torso-tight black dress, flared from the hips, and
caressed it down over her curves, turning to the mirror to check its
lift. I saw a flash of stocking-top as it lifted very prettily.

Finally, she took from her - what do they call it in the US? -- closet, a
glistening black fur bolero jacket, to guard against the cold night
air. Delicate little high black pumps with needle heels completed the
ensemble. The effect was stunning. I applauded with fast and tiny little
claps to show my appreciation.

"Darling, you look adorable. Though won't the little bulge in your tiny
panties, um, spoil the illusion? Should we dance and your hem go up, I
mean?"

"Little? My bulge is as big as yours, almost. What is that song they used
to sing? `Don't worry. Be `appy'. I am happy -- very - as you see."

And so that I didn't mistake what she was saying, my gorgeous Nicole drew
her perfectly-manicured fingernails sexily up over her crotch, lifting the
skirt to reveal the well-packed panties.

What was a man to say?

Nicole called for a taxi. We had decided that whenever we went out we would
go by taxi, since, although neither of us drinks a great deal, Nicole, in
particular, was quite strict about drink-driving.

Being new to the city, I had no idea where we were going, but as the taxi
drew to a halt outside a very grand building on the fringe of the downtown
area I felt reassured. A young man in a top hat and uniform stepped out of
the doorway to open the door of the cab. This club of Nicole's was clearly
not run-of-the-mill. Stepping out of the car, I turned to help my beautiful
escort into the street.

I paid the driver and since I had my wallet in my hand, handed a tip to the
doorboy. "Thank you, sir," he said. "If you and madame will follow me."

So he was sharp, too, noticing Nicole's accent. Calling her `madame' he
looked her very intently in the eye.

When we reached the front door he rang a bell and the door was opened by
another young man who was instructed to show us into the club. This boy was
clearly younger than and junior to the doorman. He wasn't wearing a top
hat, but his uniform appeared otherwise to be very similar to that of the
man who had brought us to the door.

At least that's the way it seemed until we stepped through the door and in
the light of the lobby I was able to see some differences. They almost made
me gasp.

He was practically naked, or might as well have been, so little did what
clothes he wore conceal.

It was clear that one was supposed to admire his body. And there was a
great deal to admire about it. The short black jacket with its satin lapels
was made of something that looked like chiffon and hugged his muscular
upper body as a glove clings to the hand. Or a well-fitted black condom
another part of the anatomy.

Perhaps appropriately, the boy's pants, also of some dark diaphanous shiny
material, would have revealed the hairs on his legs had there been any. You
won't be surprised then to hear that, since he appeared to have forgotten
his underwear, his considerable organ of generation was more than
adequately displayed.

Nicole noticed the startled look on my face.

"How would you like to suck on that, darling?" she whispered with a giggle.

I had no idea what to reply and, when our usher asked us to follow him I
did so with startled and slightly embarrassed fascination. Not wishing to
look uncool, I hoped that nobody would notice.

In spite of his outfit not being what the average young fashion-conscious
male was, so far as I knew, wearing on the street, there was nothing
overtly effeminate about him. He didn't mince, although I couldn't help
watching the firm orbs of his backside undulate and rub against each other
as he walked.

I wondered if perhaps I should offer him the little panties I was
wearing. But that, I thought, would make the effect even more erotic. And,
in the way of these things (although I can't think why) I was reminded of
something I hadn't thought of for years.

Some years earlier, in London, at the home of a colleague, I had seen a
black and white photo. It was one of the most erotic and disturbing images
I had ever seen.

As we discussed our business matters I found the large, framed print behind
my colleague's head extremely distracting.

"Sexy, isn't it?" he smiled, noticing my interest.

"It's of a man called Peter Berlin. He took the picture himself."
Redundantly, he added, "He's gay." Then, becoming embarrassed and probably
wanting to change the subject, added, "Quite clever, his use of
double-exposure, I always think."

 Emulsions, stop numbers and film speeds were far from my mind ... and I
wasn't even gay. But I was getting a hard-on.

In the picture, Berlin, wearing a transparent body-clinging top, tiny
see-through string pouch and -- I think - boots and socks, stands over a
supplicant and aroused youth, also portrayed by himself.

"What a beautiful ass," commented Nicole unnecessarily, noticing that my
attention was rivetted to the motion of our attendant's muscular
orbs. "It's giving me a stiffy."

"You are with me, remember?" I said, surprised at my annoyance. The first
little flash of anger I had shown since we'd met.

I wondered briefly what this was all about. Was I angry with Nicole? Or
with my own fascination with the beautiful ass? Was it Nicole's focussing
my attention on it? Was I, as the phrase goes, `in denial'? My own sexual
denial - was that what was getting under my skin? "I've got you under my
skin."

Nicole kissed me on the cheek.

"Oh. Can it be? My wonderful lover is unsure of himself? Paul, cheri, don't
be silly. I'm a woman and I like men's asses. I LOVE yours. I love YOU. But
I can't help admiring a beautiful ass. Don't be silly."

As she took my hand and tugged lovingly on my arm, I relaxed and
smiled. The world was dishing out faster then I could ingest. Let alone
digest. It was serving faster than I could return.

I was on a learning curve that rose more sharply than even my dick so
frequently had done these past few days. Normally - if there is such a
state - most days for most people are groundhogged, if you know what I
mean. The same things seem to happen in more or less the same
sequence. Over and over and over and over. We like it that way.

What a lot can be crammed into a few paces along a corridor.

Nicole reached up and bussed me on the cheek again as we approached an
impressive doorway.

Two twelve- or fifteen-foot doors grew in impressiveness as we
approached. To their right on the wall was a discreet plaque bearing a
single word: "Xtase".

I read it first as Xtease, then, re-reading it, thought it could be the
name of some artificial sweetener. Finally, I realised that it was a
misspelling of the French for ecstasy.

In fact, I was about to discover, it might have represented all three.

We were ushered through the doors into a large and graciously-furnished
room in which a number of people were standing in groups.

They were all elegantly dressed, men and women in equal numbers.

There was the usual buzz of conversation and laughter.

Few took any notice of our entry.

We were asked politely to sign the guest book by a young lady in an elegant
but revealing short black shantung dress which flared slightly at the hem
and showed a majority of her sensationally long and shapely legs.

The automatic thought that the legs were the shortest route to an
equally-astonishing butt sprang into my mind.  A glimpse of stocking-top
had me mentally humming a snatch of Cole Porter. What I had seen in the
past few minutes had indeed been shocking.

"I can't bear it any longer, sweet lady," I said to Nicole. "Where am I?"

Nicole looked me seriously in the eyes, her own flicking from one to the
other and suggesting her own anxiety.

"Darling, this is one of the most exclusive clibs in town. In fact, it's
very `ard to become a member. I `ave belong for only two month."

Nicole's pronunciation of club made me smile as she was interrupted by a
waiter who brought a silver tray on which sat two glasses of champagne. I
didn't dare inspect his clothing.

"But what kind of club?" I pressed.

"You will see. Just notice that there are other girls like me. And ordinary
men and women, too. Also, sometimes quite well-known people, men, who like
to dress like ladies. People like to come here because it is sooooooo
discreet. And fun. And sexy. Not ... what's the word? ... sleazy, just
sexy. The sexiest clib I ever went to."

With the champagne in my hand, I felt less uncomfortable. Until, that is,
from behind my back, I heard a laugh which I immediately wished I hadn't
recognised.

"Oh no," I moaned.

"Quoi?"

"That's Harvey's laugh. What will he think if he sees me here?'

"What do you think now you know he's here?"

Nicole was right, of course. A friend of mine, a longtime member of a
Twelve-Step group, had suffered for years from his particular addiction,
frightened to go to the meeting that undoubtedly saved his life in case he
might be known by some other member.

"Darling, if you want to go, we'll go. I didn't think you would be so . . .
sensitive. Of course you feel a little strange, but there are many people
here just like you. No, there is nobody here just like you. I promise you
that you will have a wonderful time. Of course you will be a little
shocked, just as you were when you, er, discover about me."

"That was in private."

"So you are embarrassed by me. You don't want people to know that you are
in love with -- if you really are -- a transsexual. You are frightened that
people will think that you are gay. Your mind is in conflict with itself. I
love you, Paul. I can't believe how much I love you. When you are asleep I
lie beside you listening to your breathing, your awful snoring, your
talking to yourself. This is serious, mon ange. Very serious. If you feel
this way now after the most exciting days of your life, after I have tell
you things I have never tell to anybody else, what are we to do after a
month, a year, two years?"

Tears welled in the beautiful eyes I wanted to look away from. Everything
Nicole said was true. I needed time to think, but that would give her time
to think as well, about all the negatives in our relationship.

"If you want we will leave now, Paul and I will go back to stay with my
brother. Or we can talk some more about this at dinner, although I am no
longer wishing to eat. Let us go."

I had gone cold with fear. I had insulted Nicole with my comment about
private being different from public. Something told me to pull her to
me. She resisted, for a moment. Then she relaxed into my arms, little sobs
slowly stopping.

"Oh Paul, I love you so much. I never thought about how you will feel when
we have to meet people. I have a doctorate and I like to think I am not
stupid. But tonight I am so stupid. It's too early to bring you here,
especially since you did not know to what I was bringing you."

I lifted her chin.

"I am at least as stupid. I'm so sorry about saying that our first
encounter was in private. I didn't mean it the way it sounded. It was
different. But you are right. How long could two people in love keep
themselves to themselves. Perhaps seeing the boys in their outlandish
outfits and ..."

Nicole smiled.

"We are both, what do you say, dick'ead. Of course there are
complications. Perhaps they are more difficult than for ordinary
lovers. Even gay lovers. But I really believe that we love each other. Even
more important, we like each other. Complications can be solved. I don't
want to lose you."

"Would you care for more drinks sir, madame?"

The bottleblond with the carefully-applied lash-lengthener radiated some
high-powered cologne in my direction. "Or are you ready to be seated for
dinner?"

"We'll be seated, I think. Will that be OK with you madame?" Looking at the
sad little creature, I smiled. She reached up and kissed me lovingly on the
lips.

"I'll just go and repair my makeup. Then we'll go in to dinner."

"Very good, madame," said the pretty waiter.

Alone, I looked around the room to see if I could spot Harvey. I hoped I
wouldn't. I did. And he me.

He winked -- I wish he wouldn't do that -- and, making apologies to the
lady to whom he was talking, came over.

"Hey, Paul. Good to see yah. Didn't know you were a member, though. And
where's that gorgeous Nicole?"

We could have been at a football game, so unsurprised was Harvey at seeing
me here.

"What a surprise to see you here. Having been in this town for less than
three months, I don't expect to meet many faces I recognise. It's quite a
place. Been here before?"

Harvey laughed.

"Been here before? I been here almost every night since it opened last
year. I'll let you in on a secret: I own the joint. Or a large part of
it. But I don't put it about. Don't talk about my investments all that
much."

"Larry! Quel surprise! What are you doing here?"

Nicole slipped a hand into mine and squeezed it as she directed a cold
smile towards Harvey.

"Larry, or Harvey as he prefers to be called, owns the place. But don't
tell a soul."

Harvey laughed heartily again. "Larry. I love it, Michelle."

The hatred between the two of them was fresh and effective.

"Oh Harvey, excuse me. I once knew a man in London called Larry and `is
second name was `arvey. I am a very bad person. Please forgive me."

Harve wasn't the kind of guy to get the wrong side of. And since he lived
in the next apartment, I was grateful that Nicole picked up on the fact.

"Honey, a doll like you is automatically forgiven. If there's anything to
forgive, which there isn't. Anytime you get tired of this hunk, you know
where I live. Only kiddin', Paul."

Our waiter, watching his boss chatting to us, hovered and Harvey called him
over.

"Gaston, I want you to take special care of Mr Paul and Miss Nicole here
tonight. Anything they want, they get, OK? They are very good friends of
mine. Please give them the VIT suite or if that's taken, my own. I shan't
be here tonight."

"Very well, Mr Harvey. Mr Paul, Miss Nicole, I shall wait over here until
you are ready to go to table."

The waiter lowered his head and walked across to the end of the bar where
he stood quietly waiting.

"Gaston is French. Quite a looker, too, huh?" asked Harvey. "He'll take
excellent care of you tonight. I'm sorry I can't be with you, but I have to
do the rounds. Now where's Sharee? See you soon."

He blew us each a kiss and headed for the exit.

This was turning out to be one amazing evening.




Copyright © JustinSilk 2002. All Rights Reserved

Chapter Six : Club Feat

The VIT Suite was a fairly spacious room with a dinner table for two next
to a window overlooking what looked like a dance floor. To say that it was
sumptuous would almost be an understatement.

Our waiter asked if we would like more champagne and poured two glasses. He
pointed out various controls -- for temperature, lighting, sound, service,
etc - on the console beside the table, then retired, explaining that nobody
could enter the room unexpectedly nor see in through the window.

"Your complete privacy is guaranteed. I shall bring your choice of dishes
and wines. Please choose from the menu and when you are ready, speak to me
by this telephone.  I hope you have a most enjoyable evening."

As soon as he closed the door, Nicole was in my arms.

"Oh, Paul, please forgive me. I was so thoughtless bringing you here
tonight. I hope so much you ..."

I didn't give her a chance to finish. It's very difficult to talk with your
mouth full of your lover's tongue. It was a long and lingering kiss and it
excited both of us considerably.

By its end, the crown of my cock had pushed out of the little silk panties
Nicole had asked me to wear and the bulge in Nicole's panties was
considerably more substantial than it had been when we entered the room. I
felt it.

"Um, I want you so much. But now I am hungry. You, too? We should order."
It seemed that Nicole was also a very practical woman.

The dinner was superb and as soon as it was finished Nicole stripped down
to her expensive and exquisite undies.

"Why don't you do the same?" she suggested.

"Are you sure that nobody can see in through the window?" I asked.

"Go and see for yourself."

Beside the big window was a door on to the dancefloor and, being cautious,
I decided to do as Nicole suggested. One or two couples were dancing
romantically and I was surprised when our door opened and Nicole in her
very sexy undies came out and joined me, guiding me to the dance floor.

"Will you dance with me, monsieur?"

More and more couples were coming on to the floor and we danced as I
relaxed more.

Several couples were in their underwear, male and ... female? I couldn't be
sure about the women.

Most, to be sure, were attractive, but none as beautiful as the woman in my
arms.

Eventually, after a sance or two, the lights dimmed and a husky voice
greeted us: "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Xtase ... your city's most
exclusive, most exotic, most exciting and now ... most explicit place of
entertainment. Ladies and gentlemen, Xtase is proud to present for your
erotic pleasure `The Transformaidens'. Please return to the complete
privacy of your suite, make yourselves comfortable, kick back and enjoy the
show."

 I had sampled enough champagne now and felt reassured enough by Nicole to
feel comfortable as we settled down on the banquette to watch the show. The
table had been moved while we had been dancing and a note on the banquette
assured us that we would not be disturbed further, but that should we wish
anything we could ring for service at any time.

"Come here, gorgeous man," said Nicole, who was in the best of moods. We
kissed passionately and I was then stripped to my panties by my adorable
lover.

The show, as you've probably guessed, was not what you'd expect at your
local dramatic society.

The arena was plunged into complete darkness. An excellent sound system in
the suite delivered an orchestra as two follow-spots picked out a very
handsome couple who walked towards each other as they began singing a love
song -- I don't know what it was called -- written it would seem,
especially for the show.

It wasn't bad and the lyrics were tasteful enough and titillating at the
same time.

They told each other in song how they had longed for each other since the
time they first met and described the things that had caught each other's
imagination.

Where the song varied from traditional love songs was in the slow and
careful striptease that took place as it was being sung.

Behind them a huge four-poster bed suggested that they were young lovers
about to consummate their love for each other. I would have thought they
would have been more urgent, but love has to give way to art I suppose.

While this was going on, Nicole began to stroke me through my little silk
panties and it wasn't long before my cock flicked out of them and stood,
oozing precum which Nicole was soon licking up, prior to plunging her mouth
down the length of my cock.

Something similar was happening on the stage, where it had become obvious
that the voices we were hearing were not those of the performers, who had
retired to the bed.

As the song continued -- the melody anyway - the action in the arena became
more explicit.

The woman tore off the man's jacket. She removed his tie. Unbuttoned his
shirt to reveal a muscular and hairy chest. Then ripped open his pants to
reveal a massive and impressively-hard cock, the head of which gleamed
erotically in the spotlight. There was no doubt in my mind that this guy
was genuinely turned on.

Now completely nude, the young hunk allowed himself to be administered to
by his beautiful young girlfriend. As she played with his cock, he started
to strip her. Her tasteful black cocktail dress went with a single movement
of his right arm, leaving her in a black satin basque, silk stockings and
very high-heeled pumps.

Pulling her into his arms, he pushed his prick between her legs and began
making suggestive movements with his hips.

I don't suppose I should have been surprised that when the man turned her
around and tore off her tiny black silk thong, he revealed that she, too,
had the most enormous hard-on.

I'm sure the idea is now clear to you. Suffice to say that Nicole and I
were very tired by the time we got home.