Blind Date

TV/mm

Blind Date

by Amy Brett

"Does Roger Palfrey live here? I'm Michael Richards," he said from the step in front of the house. He looked, if it's possible, confused, disappointed, and very nervous all at the same time. I smiled both for his benefit and to myself and invited him in with a motion.

"Please sit down," I said, pointing at a chair in the living room and moving off to the bedroom of the mobile home. I was alone but stayed in the room for a moment before returning. When I re-entered the living room, he had made himself comfortable, though a bit on edge.

"He said he'll be a few minutes. Would you like a drink? Scotch? Bourbon?"

"Do you have a beer?"

"Yes, of course. Bud alright?"

"Yes. Fine."

I got two of the beers and two pilsner glasses. I handed him his beer and a glass, carefully sat down across the room in a low, overstuffed chair, carefully crossed my legs and poured the beer into the glass and drank. We both took a measure of the other over the rims of the glasses without our eyes really meeting in the process.

I saw him carefully scan the expanse of skin below my skirt's hem, my thigh open to his view. As I drank, I saw him look closely at my chest as it strained under the little white blouse I had chosen. I saw the lipstick stain on the rim of the glass.

He was a few inches taller than I but skinnier, with very long fingers. He wore the loose necked shirt and comfortable slacks easily, the sports coat a nice, more formal addition. His hair was moderate length and his blue eyes sparkled from his face with intelligence.

"Have you and Roger known each other long?"

"No. Actually, we've never met. We've talked . . . on Compuserve. You know, the computer network?"

"Yes. I know."

There was a long silence during which I could see he was becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

"Are . . . " he began. "Are you his wife?"

"No. Roger isn't married."

"You have me at a disadvantage."

"I'm sorry," I said, feeling very sneaky and enjoying it immensely. "Would you believe I'm his girlfriend?" He looked at me and squirmed a little. " . . . Or his sister?" He looked at me more closely.

"Did you meet Roger on Channel 33?" I asked quickly.

"Yes," he responded. It was obvious he was still more confused but thought that I had little idea of what the channel was.

"And what did you do there?"

"Do? Well . . . we talked."

"Just talked? You didn't . . . " I paused for emphasis, " . . . mess around a little? Make love maybe?"

He looked at the beer in his hands then, more nervous than before. "Well . . . " He wasn't going to answer and I could see it. He studied the way the bubbles floated to the top of the beer as the afternoon sunlight shown through it.

"Sure you did. That's alright. I knew that." He nodded. "How was he dressed when you talked to him?"

"He had a skirt and blouse . . . " He stopped and looked closely at me again and I could almost see the lightbulb go on over his head. "He's a transvestite," he said finally with a grin of recognition. He started to point at me and I couldn't contain myself anymore. A broad smile spread over my face and finally a laugh broke the silence.

"Roger?" He stood up and walked the pace across the room toward me. I extended my hand from where I sat as a lady would. He took it with a still growing smile. "Really?"

"Hello, Mike. Pleased to meet you. But please call me Jeri with one R and one I." I caught his hand femininely and shook it softly. He drew me up to my feet as I sat the beer down on the end table.

"I don't believe it!" His eyes got large as he looked me up and down. "You said you were very good but I had no idea."

I did a slight curtsy. "Thank you, sir. I'm glad you approve."

"Approve? My God, you're one of the most startlingly pretty women I've ever seen."

I couldn't help but be thrilled. "Thank you again."

"No," he said backing away from me a few steps and still inspecting me. "You're putting me on. Are you really his sister? Or girlfriend?"

"No. I'm really not," I said as I did a little turn so he could get a more complete look. The short skirt lifted with the motion of the turn. I looked at him then and saw that he was now seriously considering his own statement and slowly convincing himself it was true.

I went to the chair he had reseated himself in now and sat on the arm of it, my legs near his stomach. I put my arm on the back of the chair to steady myself and looked down at him through the long brunette hair of my wig. He looked up at me then.

"You don't believe me now, do you?" I said softly. He only shook his head negatively very slightly. "What would it take to convince you?" I followed his look at my stockinged leg a few inches from his hand.

"We just met and you already want to feel me up?" I said in mock shock as I put my hand on my chest.

"No, no," he said nervously.

"Well," I said softly. "I think there's only one way you're going to be convinced." He looked into my face again then and saw the smile. I was having a marvelously good time teasing him.

"You . . . mean . . . "

"Yes. I mean put your hand under my skirt and satisfy your curiosity."

"But . . . "

"But I want you to. Would you rather I pulled my skirt up for you?"

"No, no," he said nervously, moving his hand from where it had been anchored in his lap. It hovered in mid air above my leg, trembling visibly. As if still undecided, it started over the outside of my skirt.

"No. You'll only be able to tell for sure under the skirt," I said firmly. His hand went back to its original position and then moved toward me again, this time barely under the very center of the short hem.

Goosebumps rambled up my legs and my back as his fingers very slowly disappeared under the black material. Involuntarily, I jumped, causing him to jump as well, as his finger touched my naked leg above the thigh high stockings. I allowed my equally shaky fingers to touch his hair as his hand slowly moved onward.

Then his fingers, still quaking, touched the front of my panties and, with slightly more authority, began to explore the shape beneath the silky material. My fingers continued to play in his hair as he explored more fully. I could feel every tenuous touch beneath the skirt and, I found, it was turning me on more than I had already been when he had only been looking at me. It was exquisite torture.

"My God," he said very softly. "It's true." He showed no indication that he was going to remove his hand.

"Satisfied?" I asked, grabbing his forearm. I moved off the arm of the chair and removed his still extended hand at the same time. "I hope you are because I'm getting very frustrated."

"I'm sorry. Yes. I'm satisfied but I still can't believe it. You're beautiful!"

From my position standing in the middle of the room, I smiled at him, took the step back to him, leaned over with my hands on my knees and softly kissed him on the lips. "Thank you."

I turned around quickly then and resumed my seat across the small room, picking up my beer and quickly draining the tall glass.

"You certainly are hard to convince," I said breathlessly, rearranging the hem of the skirt to show as little of my legs as possible. "I try very hard. You make it all worth while."

I poured the rest of the can of beer into the glass and set it on my crossed leg as I looked at him again.

"Tell me a little about it, ah, Jeri."

"What do you want to know?"

"Is it difficult?"

"Yes. I spent a lot of time edging into it. One time I tried on a pair of panties. Once I bought a pair of stockings and a pair of shoes and wore those every now and then."

"Your breasts . . . "

"Then I found a little store in town that sells to transvestites and bought a pair of breast forms and a bra. That was exciting because they're so realistic." I shook myself slightly from side to side so they moved. They looked very natural.

"Yes," he said softly.

"Then I bought my first dress and later this skirt and blouse. About a year ago, I bought my wig," I said, running my fingers through the long, curled hair at my ears.

"But the really hard part was makeup. And boring too. I've gotten it now so I use just the minimum but it's still a lot of work."

"You do a great job. I mean the whole thing. But I'd think all the gestures, the movements would be the hard part."

"Yes. I practice. When I get home from work now, I dress and work on my gestures and the way I move. I rented a video tape camera and recorded myself a few times and played it back. Each time I do that, I get a little better."

"And your . . . you know." He gestured rather indiscriminately toward my midsection and I knew what he meant.

"Well, that was a problem. First, I didn't like tying it back between my legs. It hurts so I don't. But my clothes are loose in front." I stood up to demonstrate the slight bagginess of the front of the skirt.

"The bikini panties I chose are not very big or strong but they seem to have pretty good elastic in them and everything stays where it's supposed to. Except . . . " I hesitated " . . . when I get really turned on. Then it gets a little touchy."

I didn't have to tell him I was now as I pulled the material of the skirt tight across my front and the bulge showed clearly through the material.

"I turn you on?" he said with a smile.

"Yeah, I guess so," I said with a blush. "You and the whole situation."

Again I paused trying to think of the right words and whether it was going to embarrass him. "You're the first . . . " I said, " . . . the first person to see me . . . like this."

"Really?" He said with disbelief in his voice. "You've never . . . I mean no one . . . "

I shook my head. "No one has ever seen me in women's clothes."

"But surely . . . I mean . . . you've been out."

"No. I've never been out of the trailer in them. And no one has ever been in the trailer when I was dressed."

"But you have experience. I mean, you knew exactly what to do when we talked on the network. Like you've been . . . you know."

"No, Mike," I blushed again, sitting down. "When I was about 14, I had an experience with a camp counselor at a Boy Scout camp. That was it."

He frowned then, looking at a spot about two feet in front of his face with concentration. "You mean, you're not . . . "

"Not a homosexual?" I stopped. "Mike, I'm a transvestite. I was married for four years and have a son. But I've always felt like the person I was with should be making love to me instead of the other way around. I've always wanted someone to make love to me."

He only looked at me rather penetratingly.

"Mike," I continued. "I'm more attracted to you now than I have been to anyone in a very long time. Your gentleness. Your kindness. Your insecurity."

"Jeri," he said softly. "I'm married and have two kids. And I've only had a couple of experiences too. And they were in the past just like yours . . . not when I was 14 but quite a while ago."

"Great!" I said with a smile. "Sort of like virgin newlyweds. Neither one of us will know what we're doing."

"Yeah," he said standing up. "Great!"

I met him in the middle of the floor and found myself putting my arms around his neck even as his slipped around my middle, locking behind my back. My smile changed as I realized what, naturally, we had just done and my hold slackened. He moved back from me slightly and looked into my eyes. There seemed to be no embarrassment there and my smile returned.

Very gently and softly, he covered my lips with his and again held me close to him.

As suddenly as the kiss had come, he broke it off, his hands on my hips holding me away slightly. The smile on his face took me off guard.

"Come on," he said grabbing my hand. "We're going out on the town."

"No!" I said reflexively. "I've never been out like this!"

"I know. You just told me," the smile spread across his face. "There's a first time for everything."

I had pulled my hand out of his and now, reluctantly, allowed him to take it again.

"Come on. You're beautiful. And I'm going to prove it to you."

He drove the small sports car he owned to the next town and into the parking lot of the huge mall there where he parked. He held the car door for me and took my hand to help me up.

"Careful. Your skirt's awfully high," he said with a nasty grin.

He led me into La Fontaine's, which is the fine French restaurant in the mall but with an outside entrance. The room was dark, lighted by candles. A Maitre 'd seated us and spread the napkins in each of our laps before asking for drink orders. Mike ordered a dry gin martini and another drink for me. When it came the ice creamy foam of it covered a lethal dose of alcohol. After three, we got our dinner order and stopped laughing for long enough to eat it. Wine with dinner prolonged the feeling of well being through the meal though the food dulled the high we had been on before.

He paid the check and wrapped my arm around his and led me into the immensity of the mall itself. Self consciously, I watched everyone who watched me and saw only looks of admiration. A couple of teenagers actually turned all the way around behind us to look at me and I blushed brilliantly.

He led me into a women's clothing shop and held up dresses for my inspection as they hung from chains suspended from the ceiling. They were beautiful. Frilly and light weight. Often revealing and therefore dismissed and very sexy. Soon we found we had a saleslady following us, appraising me. Nervously, I said we were just looking.

"No, no," Mike said. "I'm going to buy her two dresses. The sexiest, prettiest, most expensive dresses she sees and likes."

The saleslady asked my size and began to pull hangers off the chains and closetlike display racks for my inspection. I chose a white one with long sheer sleeves, a shirt cut buttoned up the front, a short skirt and almost shirttail-like insets in the sides. It had a wide black belt.

Mike chose a black crepe dress with three quarter sleeves and a longer skirt but the front overlapped to a pair of side by side buttons that were the only things that held it on. Without allowing me time to say no, the saleslady showed me to the dressing room. Mike said then he wanted to see them on so I quickly stripped out of the blouse and skirt, all the time looking at the bottom and sides of the curtain that covered the dressing room, and slipped into the white dress.

It fit perfectly, almost so short it showed the tops of my stockings at the sides when I was standing up.

When I showed the saleslady, she tugged at the sides but nodded reluctant approval as Mike handed me a pair of long, dangly earrings and watched to make sure I put them on in front of the tryon mirror. I liked them and told him.

I returned to the dressing room, slipped out of the white dress and into the black one. It was very fussy and sexy feeling. The waist was just below my bra and, because of that, the limited crossover of the sides covered my bra completely. The vee at the front, however, was dangerously high and, I knew, could open to somewhere above my waist when I sat down if I wasn't careful. I sat down to see just how dangerous it was and found that I had to mind it almost every second to keep it from opening on its own.

I knew Mike would like it as I saw his eyes when I walked out. The saleslady seemed slightly scandalized as I walked to the mirror, my long legs peeking out from under the skirt with each step. Both of us thought I needed a pair of dark pantyhose under the dress and Mike bought them before I returned to the dressing room and put them on. As I pulled them up, his hand extended into the dressing room with a gold necklace in it. I put it on before leaving the room.

He nodded his approval of the outfit and told me to put the white one back on and take the pantyhose off while he paid the bill. I did. I slipped my feet back into the beige low heeled pumps I owned and went out to the cash register. As I arrived, he handed me a pair of slightly white tinged thigh high stockings. I turned to put them on in the dressing room.

"No. Put them on here," he said. "This lady won't mind." She purposefully paid attention to her cash register as I stepped out of one shoe and threaded the silky material over my foot. I bent at the waist and pulled the stocking up, trying to be as discreet as possible. Then I repeated the actions. When I looked up, I looked into Mike's smiling face and, over his shoulder, another man about 30 years old with a huge smile on his face. I chucked Mike on the arm femininely as I blushed.

He carried the packages as he steered me to a shoe store. The young man there led us to a chair and pulled up a stool before it. More carefully than I thought completely necessary, he measured my foot while sneaking poorly disguised looks at my thighs.

He brought a pair of very high heels with a sharp toe that only covered my toes, and a narrow strap that circled my ankle and fastened with a gold buckle. He feigned more difficulty getting the buckle done than it actually required and got a good look well up the insides of both legs.

As I walked on them, finding them amazingly comfortable, I took some satisfaction in the salesman's obvious distress as he tried to stand. His hardon was quite obvious and I made it as hard as possible for him to do anything about his misdirection by asking a stream of questions that required his answers.

After Mike insisted on a pair of patent leather black shoes to go with the black dress, the entire scenario was repeated as the clerk put the white shoes back on my feet. We agreed, as we left the mall, that we'd made his night.

We stopped at the restaurant bar and, after Mike held a chair for me and I carefully sat down, he went to the bar to get two more drinks. I looked around myself as he stood there.

The chair was made of dark vinyl and swept around my body at bent-elbow height. Since the back was the same height, my posture held my chest out. I saw that the top of my thigh was free of the white skirt. The high heels almost uncomfortably bent my ankles downward.

The table was beneath my crossed knee. As Mike set the drinks down on the table, he pushed one of the chairs away and pulled out the remaining one and seated himself next to me.

We talked quietly about our shopping trip as we drank the drinks. I noticed that as he talked, he looked around the room. Finally, grinning, he shared with me.

"Don't look now but there is a guy at the bar who has been giving your legs the once over since you sat down." Instinctively, I recrossed my legs and checked the hem of the skirt. There wasn't anything I could do about it.

"No. Don't worry about it. He's enjoying the view. Don't spoil it."

For a few minutes, we silently drank and I finally found the man Mike was talking about, still stealing quick looks at my legs. I could see from the direction of his eyes that he wouldn't be able to identify me in a lineup since he hadn't looked at my face yet. Mike took me by surprise as I tried not to stare at the man and not to blush at his inspections.

"I dare you to unbutton a button," he said softly.

"You've got to be kidding."

"No. Let's see what he does." I looked at Mike and saw that he was serious though grinning at his own evil idea. He watched me to see how I would react.

Trying to be nonchalant, I continued to talk to Mike and at the same time reached to the first button and began to play with it. It easily came unbuttoned. For a moment, I left my hand there while Mike's grin broadened. Then I moved my hand and knew, from the look on Mike's face, that it had spread open still further.

That's when Mike suggested that it was time to go back to my place.

I turned on the lights in the house and turned to find Mike only inches behind me.

"God," he said. "I've wanted to do this for hours."

He enfolded me in his arms and kissed me on the lips until I thought I would never catch my breath. Then the tenor of his kiss changed and I knew I couldn't catch my breath.

His tongue came into my mouth as I opened it for him and his hands moved on my back and downward across my bottom, pulling me into his leg. My hands pulled his face to mine as his hands found my naked bottom under the material of the short skirt. The back of the bikini panties were only a string that followed the crack of my ass to the thin waistband. His hands massaged the globes of my ass unimpeded.

Breathlessly, I led him to my bedroom and turned the tiny bedside light on. I helped him out of the coat, unbuttoning his shirt as his hands pulled it off. His pants came off as quickly.

I let him press me back into the pillows of the bed and watched as he pulled his socks off and moved beside me. As his lips caressed my face, I felt his fingers unbuttoning the front of the dress and unbuckling the wide belt and throwing it off the bed to the floor. The cool air of the room washed across my naked skin.

I squirmed, my eyes clenched shut, as his tongue found my ear and his hand my breast form, pressing it hard enough for me to feel it beneath. His tongue traced a wet line down my neck and onto my shoulders. He kissed my arms and sucked softly on my fingers and tongued the sensitive skin of my palms.

The wet lines criss-crossed my chest and stomach. I felt the thin strings of the panties as he pulled them off and felt his tongue through the stockings on my thighs.

He forced my thighs apart and my hands into his hair as his tongue traced up the naked skin of my thighs, first one and then the other. Then he lifted my legs high as he licked far between my legs and back up as he would have a woman.

Somehow, he made believe his tongue was playing with my clit though I knew it to be larger. I squirmed as his lips held me and pulled the hardened skin until I felt my climax nearing. Even as it roared near in my ears, he stopped and moved over my body.

For a moment, his fingers thrilled across my asshole slipperily and slightly into me. His arms pulled my legs to my armpits, the white shoes above his back in the air. Then, in a smooth motion that seemed to make the pain I expected impossible, he slid into my asshole and, meeting no resistence, continued until I felt his balls against the skin of my ass.

His mouth covered mine and took my breath away, his tongue deep in my open mouth even as his cock was in the other end. His chest and my own thighs crushed into my bra roughly.

Moans escaped me around his tongue and, as he began the long strokes that seemed to pull me higher and higher up the raging river that flowed through my ears, I felt the inexorable approach of my climax.

"Oh, Mike, yes, yes, yes."

"Jeri, you beautiful whore. Come for me!"

Even as my body strained in compliance, I felt the fluid of his body flowing into me. My back arched and my legs straightened toward the ceiling as my body convulsed in long, agonizing throes of passion. My come filled the small space between us.

Slowly, my vision returned, the blood slowed in my ears and I looked at him. His smile made me want to hug and kiss him as I did then.

Feeling exhausted, I didn't react as he rolled me onto my front and lifted the back of the skirt. Through a haze, I felt his hardness re-enter me from behind and his hand cup me beneath my body.

It hardened almost instantly as I heard his words.

"Jeri? Later? Will you show me how to dress?" I giggled and tried to keep from moving my ass but failed miserably.

Through my panting breaths I said, "Yes, Mike. You get to wear the black dress out the first time."