The Cabin – Poor Mountain Virginia – 1957

Ashton Bellamy pulled up in the small clearing at the side of the cabin and breathed a sigh of relief. He had a whole week to spend in solitude doing only the things he wanted to do. No work, no responsibilities, nobody to talk to. He was free to live his life the way he wanted to for the next seven days.

Ashton went to the small toolshed at the rear of the cabin and fired up the portable generator then he went inside and switched on the small refrigerator so it would cool down sufficiently before he stocked it. He ran water through the tap over the sink until it ran as clear as the water in the brook that ran beside the cabin and fed the lake. He checked the privy to make sure that it hadn’t become a home for racoons or possums and dropped off a four-pack of toilet tissue. He lit a fire in the hearth of the stone fireplace and another in the cast iron stove.

Satisfied that the basics required for a comfortable stay had been completed he began to unpack his pickup. He had purchased enough staples and luxuries to ensure a comfortable existence during his stay. He manhandled the forty-four gallon drum of gasoline to the edge of the pickup and rolled it down an improvised ramp and then over to the generator shack. The current drum was still half full and if he used the generator judiciously he would have enough gas for his stay.

After giving the place a good dusting and sweep and putting fresh linen on the bed Ashton was ready.

He took a douche and a pail of warm soapy water to the privy and performed the necessary then he took down the galvanised tin bath from where it hung on the side of the generator shack cum tool shed and brought it inside out of the cold and poured the warm water he had heated on the stove into it. He stripped naked and took a long leisurely bath. He shaved his legs and the few stray hairs that had sprouted on his body then he carefully shaved his face using a mirror propped on a stool beside the bath to see his reflection. Ashton reluctantly climbed out of the bath but he was excited; his excitement reflected by the semi-hardness of his penis.

After drying himself in front of the fireplace, he put on a silk robe, emptied the bath and returned it to the generator shack, then he gathered his male attire and locked it in a trunk which he hid out the way under the bed. He opened the huge armoire which took up nearly one whole wall of the small bedroom. He had bought the armoire at an auction, disassembled it, lugged it to cabin in his pickup and painstakingly reassembled it two years ago. Inside the armoire were his prized possessions.

Dresses, skirts, blouses, peignoirs, shifts, slips and girdles and waist-cinchers hung from the hangers. The drawers were filled with panties, cami-knickers, suspender belts, brassieres and nylon stockings. Four pairs of high heels were laid out side by side on the bottom shelf. On a shelf at eye level were three wigs: a platinum blonde bouffant, a brunette ‘Veronica Lake’ with cascading curls and a black classic bob.

Ashton had acquired his treasures over two years. Painstakingly stockpiling them. Lingerie and nylons were easy enough to purchase; one simply implied they were being purchased for a fictious wife or girlfriend. He had used the same ruse to buy high heels in his size. The wigs he had purchased at a theatrical supply chain where no one questioned why a man might be obtaining women’s hairpieces. Acquiring the skirts blouses and dresses had been a challenge.

Finally he had stumbled across a matronly lady named Lily Dalgliesh at a thrift shop he patronised who saw through his charade and took him aside and offered him her services. She would put aside pieces for Ashton to try on and appraise in secrecy. He kept the pieces that he liked and declined the clothes that he didn’t like or didn’t fit properly. Of course there was a markup involved for the services that Lily offered but it turned out to be a fortuitous venture for them both, especially when Lily ascertained the style of clothing that Ashton preferred. He also used Lily to buy him a stockpile of cosmetics.

The armoire was filled with more clothing than Ashton could ever need but he became addicted to buying attire that fulfilled his desire to present as feminine as possible. He knew that it was somewhat ironic that his alter ego Ashley would never be seen in public in her swank and often alluring couture because the only place that Ashley existed was at the isolated cabin.

This was borne out of necessity. Ashley could never be seen in public, even in the few places that existed like Casa Susan a in Hunter New York where crossdressing was acceptable. The risk of being discovered was unacceptable.

Paris, France 1946

Ashton Bellamy narrowly missed seeing combat during in the war but he was still serving in the US Army in 1946 when his unit was posted to Paris France. The city was recovering from the war and despite the post-war reconstruction, the city faced challenges such as housing shortages and food rationing. The atmosphere was sombre and beautiful, with the city looking bruised and forlorn, but it remained a place of beauty and resilience.

Nightlife returned and pockets known for adult entertainment and related businesses thrived. A libertine spirit of the time was apparent in the cabarets and strip clubs which offered a mix of performances and adult-oriented shows. These areas were known for their bohemian atmosphere and relative lack of strict social constraints, attracting artists, writers, performers and those seeking something risqué.

These pockets of loucheness attracted American soldiers who had plenty of money to spend and were far away from home. Ashton and his buddies became frequent visitors to these establishments, enjoying the cabaret performances whilst drinking heavily and often moving on to a strip club where they usually separated to partake of the delights of the many Parisian prostitutes.

One fateful evening Ashton Bellamy found himself separated from his buddies and stumbled into a little nightclub called Vive la Différence which regular patrons shortened simply to Vive. The cabaret show was lively and risqué and the hostesses were dressed provocatively. Ashton was shown to a small table in a dark corner of the club and was soon joined by vivacious hostess dressed only in a basque with a short taffeta skirt, nylon stockings and heels. Her platinum blonde curls hung to her shoulders, her makeup was heavy and she reeked of perfume. Her voice was smoky and seductive and she was gregarious and attentive without being lewd. Ashton was smitten.

Her name was Dominique and although Ashton spoke passable French, Dominique spoke very good English, with a smouldering, husky Parisian accent that sounded so sexy coming from her full, red-lipsticked lips. Ashton bought the drinks and Dominique kept him entertained, fawning on his every word and listening to him talk about life back home. He complimented her on her beauty and she accepted the compliments graciously.

Ashton finally summoned the courage to kiss Dominique and she let him do so and returned the kiss, opening her mouth slightly and tickling his tongue with hers. Her lips were full and sensual and her breath sweet despite the aftertaste of cigarettes and brandy. Ashton dragged his chair closer to her and their kisses became impassioned. When Ashton put his hand on her thigh she didn’t resist. He adored the feel of her stockings against his fingertips and when his hand drifted further up her legs he found the expanse of soft, unblemished skin above the welt of her stocking and became brazen enough to continue his journey.

Dominique put her hand firmly on his wrist and stopped his advances when his fingertips grazed the lace edge of her panties.

“If you want what is there it’s going to cost you five of your American dollars. We go to my place and you can stay all night if you want,” Dominque breathed into his ear.

Ashton wasn’t stupid and he suspected that the hostesses at Vive were also prostitutes. There was something about Dominique that fascinated him and he agreed to her proposal despite the fact that he could have a Parisian streetwalker for far less.

They walked arm in arm through the dark alleys stopping frequently to kiss and canoodle. His hand slid inside her long overcoat to fondle her while he kissed her. Ashton loved the feel of her satin basque and her taffeta skirt but most of all he adored the feel of her nylon stockings and her silky panties whenever she allowed him a fleeting touch of her undergarment. He cherished the taste of her lipstick and the scent of her perfume and makeup; the soft caress of her hair on his face when he kissed her. Dominque was almost overly feminised and that is what drew him to her.

When they arrived at her tiny one bedroom flat he hardly noticed the disarray. Lingerie and clothing lay scattered on the bed, a jumble of high heels piled in one corner, the vanity was strewn with makeup and three wigstands sported elaborate hairpieces. Ashton was too busy trying to manoeuvre Dominique towards the bed, his libido was afire, his cock swelling the front of his uniform trousers.

“Money honey,” Dominique managed to utter around Ashton’s assault on her mouth as he kissed her fervently.

Ashton found a crumpled US five dollar bill and dropped it on the bedside table and pushed Dominique down on the bed and gazed at her. She swiped the clothing scattered around her onto the floor and shimmied up the bed and lay on her back with her head on the pillows. She shimmied out of the little taffeta skirt leaving her dressed in only in her basque, panties, nylons and heels and looked up at him with a seductive smile.

Ashton stood at the foot of the bed and began to undress, never taking his eyes off the enchantress who lay brazenly spread-legged on the coverlet. He burned for her and his cock stood resolute and erect, despite the alcohol that he had drunk. He reached out and caressed her foot, dragging a finger along the shiny patent leather of her high heel and then he stroked her petite feet, relishing the feel of her silky nylons. His hands continued upward, stroking her calves, pausing to explore the little wrinkles in her stockings behind her knees, then ever onward, to those firm luscious thighs where he halted his advances to that he could caress the dark bands of the welts on her stockings and fiddle with silver clasps on her garters.

He wondered briefly what it might feel like to wear the sumptuous, silky hose. What it must be like having your flesh encased in the diaphanous hosiery, to feel your thighs swish when you walked, to trace your fingers down the back of them to straighten the seam? He imagined that the tight satin basque must feel wonderful against bare flesh, holding the body tight, cinching the waist. The gauzy panties caressing genitalia would be a decadent experience. He shook his head to clear it and his hands continued their journey, ever upward. He caressed the white flesh above the welts and fondled the lace trim on the legholes of her panties.

It was only then, through the fog of the brandy he had consumed and his overwhelming desire, that Ashton noticed the small bulge in Dominique’s panties.

Ashton was suddenly sober and incredulous. He knew that the performers on the stage at Vive la Différence were drag queens. Drag shows were very popular in the red light districts but Ashton then recalled that all of the barmaids, hostesses and performers and even most the female clientele at Vive were overly feminine. Of course! They were all drag queens, transvestites and crossdressers.

Ashton had been lured to this dishevelled little flat by a transvestite!

His first impulse was to run but his curiosity got the better of him. Hadn’t he been totally fooled by Dominque? Hadn’t he found her sexy, feminine and alluring? They were alone in this little hovel of a place. Whatever he did here would be a secret. It was in Domique’s interest to keep it a secret too if she wanted his money.

“You look surprised,” Dominique smiled up at him.

“I thought you knew. After all Vive la Différence is a place sought out by those looking for something… shall we say exotic,” she continued.

“No. I had no idea. You fooled me. You are so feminine, so gorgeous, so sexy,” Ashton replied but made no attempt to leave.

“You like it don’t you? I can tell by the way caress my clothes. You desire me of course; that’s obvious, your cock gives you away. But you like the look and feel of what I’m wearing. I bet you have tried on ladies things in secret haven’t you? You want me. You want to fuck me. But you also want to be me,” Dominique teased.

“Shut up! I’ll tell you what I want. I want what I paid for!” Ashton fell on the pretty transvestite and kissed her ravenously, driving his tongue into her mouth, crushing her lips with his.

His cock rutted against her pubis and he felt her penis begin to engorge through her panties as they frotted and ground against each other. Dominique raised her buttocks off the bed, her fingers scrambling for the salve on her nightstand. She eased aside the gusset of her panties, smeared her opening with the slick emollient and guided Ashton’s penis to her puckered entrance.

Ashton was almost delirious with lust and he rammed his cock inside her tight anus and he smiled when she squealed. That would teach her a lesson for deceiving him, but the feeling of reprisal lasted only a fleeting moment. His cock was buried in her tight channel and his scrotum rested against her satin panty gusset, her nylon-sheathed limbs were locked around his body and he was delirious with desire.

He fucked Dominque with urgent thrusts, his cock quivering as his orgasm approached, too soon but unstoppable. He kissed her and she mewled into his mouth and scissored her legs against his flesh, urging him on, her was cock hard and she was as close to extremis as Ashton. She fucked him back, raising her buttocks off the bed grinding her pubis into his belly, meeting his thrusts. She clawed his shoulders with her nails and dug her high heels into the small of his back.

They orgasmed together, pawing at each other, Ashton’s cock jackhammering in and out of Dominque’s slick anus, their kisses so virulent that their teeth crashed together. Ashton pulled Dominque close to him and deposited his seed deep inside her. He felt her cock quiver and he knew that she had creamed her panties when he felt the warm viscidness of her semen on his belly. He felt jubilant in a way he had never felt before. He had caused this gorgeous, vibrant creature to climax. This was no faked orgasm that the street whores pantomimed when he fucked them, pretending they were enjoying being fucked by a drunk, horny GI.

They lay together in the aftermath of the licentious coupling, Ashton’s cock still buried in Dominque’s anus. Then they made love. They took their time and explored each other’s bodies, discovering what titillated the other. They kissed and caressed and stroked each other’s faces intimately. They whispered terms of endearment and cries of encouragement when their lovemaking rose to a crescendo. They came together a second time and lay in each other’s arms exhausted, sated and happy.

“Are you going to leave now?” Dominque asked softly as she reached for her cigarettes.

“No. Light me one of those will you,” Ashton replied and turned to face her.

“Can I stay the night? I’ll pay extra,” Ashton smiled at her.

“Of course you can. You don’t have to pay but if you want to give me a gift, that’s up to you,” Domnique turned to Ashton and kissed him softly and then placed the cigarette between his lips.

Just before he drifted off to sleep Ashton made a confession.

“What you said before about me trying on ladies things. It’s true. When I was younger I once very briefly tried on my mother’s stockings and lingerie because I found them fascinating. My mother caught me but she never said anything other than to tell me to take off her things but I know she was relieved when I joined the army,” Ashton whispered.

“I’ve never told another soul,” he added.

“Something to be discussed another time honey, now go to sleep,” Dominque snuggled up to him and fell into a deep satisfied slumber.

Broughton Savings & Loan, Martinsville Virginia – 1957

“Come on, hurry up!” Dexter Mitchell called out to his brother Randy.

Dexter had the bank manager, two tellers, four customers and the security guard sitting on the floor with their backs against the counter with their hands on their heads. He was covering them with a sawn off shotgun and he had a .45 semiautomatic pistol in his belt.

Dexter’s brother Randy had taken Darleen Coulter, the assistant manager at the Broughton Savings & Loan, at gunpoint into the manager’s office where he was forcing her to open the safe and fill two tote bags with cash.

Darleen was in her forties and married. She was wearing a pencil-skirted suit, nylons and heels and had flaming red hair which framed her plain but not uninteresting face. Darleen was perched on the edge of the manager’s desk with her legs wide open and said pencil skirt was hiked up and her legs were being held open by Randy Mitchell whose pants were unhitched and his cock buried in Darleen’s cunt.

“Christ Randy! I never thought you were serious about fucking me during the holdup,” Darleen whispered into Randy’s ear, her voice thick with lust.

Randy just grunted. He was too enamoured with the feel of his cock sliding in and out of Darleen’s slick snatch and the sensation of his balls pressing against the crotch of her silk drawers, which in his haste he hadn’t bothered removing. Her nylon-swathed calves caressed his flanks, her heels locked behind his back.

Randy thrust with all his might and deposited his semen deep inside Darleen Coulter’s vagina. Darleen bit her hand to stifle the moan as she came right along with him.

Wasting no time, Randy whipped his cock out of Darleen’s twat, buckled his pants and buttoned his shirt whilst Darleen adjusted her drawers, straightened her seams and pulled down and smoothed out her skirt.

“Thanks for this Darleen, I’ll leave your cut in the hollowed out tree near the rest stop on Route 220 as agreed. Hope you have a great life,” Randy said as he lifted the two tote bags filled with cash.

“I’ll be glad to get away from that no-hoper of a husband,” Darleen hissed.

Randy Mitchell had met Darleen Coulter at a honkytonk only three weeks earlier and they had entered into a torrid affair. It was she who told him that Broughton Savings & Loan would be receiving a large cash shipment that morning and proposed that he and his brother rob the bank with her help.

“Dwain Broughton, the bank manager, would likely put up a fight but I’ll just be a damsel in distress who will do anything two armed burly bank robbers tell me to do,” Darleen had chuckled.

“I might fuck you right there in the manger’s office just for the hell of it,” Randy had replied offhandedly.

But as it turned out, he wasn’t joking.

“Slap me in the face,” Darleen said to Randy as she buttoned her jacket.

“Make it look like I put up a little resistance,” Darleen said as she tore open her jacket so that the buttons scattered on the floor and mussed up her hair.

Randy waited until Darleen was distracted fiddling with her blouse and gave her a roundhouse slap to the face that would bruise nicely.

“Fuck Randy! No need to be so vicious,” she yelped but she was smiling.

Randy opened the door to the manager’s office and pushed Darleen through it and she skittered across the linoleum floor to join the other captives.

Randy didn’t know it but this was the catalyst that would turn the well planned robbery into a fiasco.

When the seventy year old security guard saw the bruise coming up under Darleen Coulter’s eye and the way she had been pushed around by Randy Mitchell he blew his stack. Just as Randy and Dexter were exiting the bank, having warned their captives to stay put for fifteen minutes (which the bank robbers knew they wouldn’t) the security guard scrambled to his feet and climbed over the counter and laid his hands on the scattergun that he knew was secreted there.

He fired both barrels simultaneously, the force of which blew the old guard on his ass.

Four pellets of double ought buckshot hit Dexter Mitchell in the left buttock and thigh. Randy dragged his wounded brother into their Ford Thunderbird and sped away. The car was approaching 120 miles per hour when Randy took the exit ramp onto the highway.

True to his word Randy stopped briefly at the rest stop on Route 220 where he changed the makeshift bandage on his brother’s ass and thigh put Darleen’s cut from the bank robbery into the hollowed out tree as agreed.

“You gotta get me to a hospital Randy,” Dexter grimaced in pain as he lay bleeding on the back seat.

“We need to find a place to hold up so I can get a good look at your wounds,” Randy replied.

Randy didn’t want anything to do with a hospital because he knew that the medical staff would call the cops once they saw his brother’s gunshot wounds and Dexter would talk. Randy had already done some prison time and he had no plans of going back. Even though Dexter was his brother he knew how the cops worked. The DA would offer Dexter a plea bargain if he gave up his brother and Dexter would take it because he was weak and couldn’t do the time.

“I’m bleeding out here man. Drop me off and skedaddle. You should have enough time to cross the border and get well away,” Dexter pleaded.

Randy didn’t want his brother to die but he didn’t want to get caught either. He thought about it briefly and made a decision.

“Ok, I’ll drop you off in Sydnorsville then I’m hightailing it south to Raleigh to our hole-up. You keep your mouth shut and tell the cops nothing,” Randy growled, knowing full well his brother would sing like a canary to save his own ass.

Randy dropped his brother off in Sydnorsville and got back on Route 220 but he headed north not south. He knew that the cops would set up roadblocks on the main roads and even though Dexter would tell them that Randy was headed south to Raleigh they would still take no chances and alert the Highway Patrol throughout the state. Randy turned off the highway still unsure exactly where he was headed. Three hours later Randy turned onto a dirt trail into the forest hoping to find somewhere isolated where he could hold up for a while. He smiled to himself when he saw the pickup parked beside the old hunting cabin deep inside the forest near Poor Mountain.

Randy was hoping there would be a lone hunter or fisherman at the cabin. Looking at the condition of the pickup and the exterior of the cabin it wouldn’t be anyone well-to-do. He would have a hostage to keep him company while he holed up, which depending on how he thought about it, could be a good thing or a bad thing. A hostage would serve him well if the cops found him and a standoff ensued. Randy had parked a few hundred yards from the cabin and he doubted that he had been seen otherwise the occupant would be outside investigating who had come to disturb their solitude.

Randy put the .45 in his right hand as he approached the cabin and he flung open the door with his left hand and burst into the cabin gun up, ready to shoot if necessary.

He was shocked to see a woman dressed a charcoal skirtsuit standing at the sink washing the dishes. She turned his way, a look of utter amazement on her pretty face and dropped the plate she had been holding.

All sorts of questions surfaced immediately but right now only one was important to Randy.

“Where is your husband?” Randy growled.

Ashley froze. She didn’t know what frightened her more; the man pointing a gun at her or that fact that the man had caught her presenting in her feminine persona. She swallowed and decided to lie, hoping the man would take what he wanted and leave.

“He’s out hunting but he will be back soon,” Ashley lied.

Randy noticed her hesitate and sensed the wheels turning in her head before the woman replied. He was pretty sure that she was lying but he needed to be sure. He waved the gun at Ashley indicating for her to move away from the counter. He doubted that she had the gumption to attack him but there was a knife block on the counter that held a number of kitchen knives including a large carving knife. The woman was smaller than him but he didn’t want to get into a tussle with her if she reached for a knife.

Ashley moved into the middle of the room and Randy looked around and saw no evidence of anyone else present. The cabin had only two rooms, a combined kitchen-diner-lounge room and a single bedroom, the door to which was open. Randy waved the gun in that direction and Ashley led the way, a thousand thoughts swimming around inside her head.

Randy opened the armoire and saw no signs of any male clothing. There was no male clothing or accoutrements to be seen anywhere. The room had a distinctive feminine feel with makeup arranged carefully on a dresser, the bed covered in a pink satin comforter with ruffled edges and a lingering smell of perfume.

What also puzzled Randy was that there was nothing specifically outdoor or rustic in the cabin. No hiking boots, no warm clothing except for a ladies fur coat that would be useless in the woods. There was no hunting or fishing attire nor any fishing poles and rifles that you would normally expect to see in a place like this.

“Your husband isn’t here, is he?” Randy growled.

Ashley shook her head. She noticed that the man had a lot of blood on his clothes and appeared desperate.

“You're not exactly dressed for the outdoors either,” Randy commented appraising the woman’s fitted skirtsuit, nylons, heels and makeup.

“I was about to go into town. I’ve only just arrived and I realised that I had forgotten a few things,” Ashley countered, the lie coming easily to her now that she’d had a minute or two to think.

“My husband will be joining me tomorrow,” she added, grateful that the man hadn’t seen though her ruse and believed her to be a cisgender woman.

“The nearest town is miles away and you're hardly dressed for it. It’s nothing more than a gas station, general store, bar-restaurant and a few businesses catering to campers and outdoor types. You don’t look very outdoorsy to me and you're dressed for the city, not the country,” Randy countered.

“I don’t think there is a husband. You're bullshitting me,” Randy scrutinised the woman carefully.

She was pretty and probably in her late thirties. Her waist was cinched and she had a nice ass and long legs but she was small-breasted. Her hair was perfectly coiffed and her makeup was flawless. Her voice had a deep, sultry, and smoky tone like the actress Lauren Bacall. She was an enigma, dressed like she might be about to hop into a limousine and go shopping at Bloomingdale’s rather than drive a dusty old pickup to a rustic cabin deep in the woods.

“Sit your ass down on the couch and don’t move,” Randy waved Ashley over towards the couch with his gun.

She sat down, demurely straightening her skirt and crossing her ankles.

“Can I smoke?” Ashley reached for her cigarettes and lighter.

“Sure you can. Sit there and smoke while I look around but don’t get your ass off that couch,” Randy growled.

The woman was obviously frightened and he was certain there were no weapons in the cabin so he went outside and checked the outbuildings and found nothing of interest in the privy or the toolshed. The generator looked to be in good condition and was running and there was an ample supply of fuel. He drove his Thunderbird around back of the cabin and hefted the two tote bags filled with cash and the sawn-off shotgun into the cabin and closed the door.

He hadn’t been wearing his coat when he helped Dexter into the car and it was the only article of clothing not stained by blood. He hung it on a peg beside the door and turned back to the woman.

“I’m going to be staying for a few days so we might as well get cozy. You got anything to drink?” Randy smiled at Ashley and she paled.

Unbidden memories from years ago suddenly returned.

Paris, France 1946

Ashton Bellamy became a regular at Vive la Différence and went there every night he wasn’t required for duty. His buddies thought that Ashton had hooked up with a Parisian woman. Some servicemen had taken ‘war brides’ with the intention of bringing their wives back to America and many more were cohabiting and setting up house with local women. Ashton let his buddies think that was the case because it was a believable excuse for him to go alone out into the city while they caroused the bars and brothels.

Ashton would leave Vive la Différence with Dominique and spend the night with her. He had not been with Dominique for long before she put him in full drag. She was well aware of his fascination with lingerie, nylons and heels and he had told her the story about him trying his mother’s undergarments and stockings and she knew full well what that implied. She too had started her journey as a teen borrowing her sister’s clothes and now she lived fulltime as a woman except on the rare occasions she had to present as a man to attend to official formalities.

Ashton was delighted when Dominique suggested that he try on her nylons, panties and a satin slip. The feel of the sensuous garments against his body was exhilarating and his ardour was fuelled. Kissing, canoodling and fucking Dominque while they were both wearing the delicate foundation garments increased Ashton’s passion.

“How would you like me to turn you into a woman just like me?” Dominique asked one evening after they had just finished making love.

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Ashton replied but it was clear that the proposal excited him.

“Of course it is but you have to commit to it. You can’t just put on the clothes, you have to become your feminine self,” Dominique explained.

“I don’t know what that means,” Ashton sounded confused.

“Then let me show you. Take off those stockings and panties and stand before me naked,” Dominique ordered and Ashton complied.

Thirty minutes later Ashton’s body was fully shaved. The wispy hair on his legs was gone, what few body hairs he had were pared and his face was clean shaven. Dominique even shaped his eyebrows.

“You are lucky. You have hardly any body hair and even your beard is sparse. Now we have a clean palette on which to create our masterpiece,” Dominique chuckled.

By now Ashton was no stranger to wearing nylons, panties and feminine undergarments and he slipped into a pair of stockings, marvelling at the feel of the hosiery on his freshly shaved legs. Likewise the satin panties and garterbelt felt decadent against his skin. Fitting the guêpière body shaper for the first time was challenge. It was made from soft and silky fabric but it had robust flexible panels and hook and eye closures that cinched his waist.

“It is important that you have a defined silhouette. You have long shapely legs and a trim body but you need some shape to present fully femme,” Domique explained as she pulled the garment tight and closed the hooks and eyes causing Ashton to wince.

She sat him down in front of her vanity and explained to Ashton how each of her cosmetics worked to transform a plain face into an attractive visage.

“Pay attention. You have to learn how to do this and how to do it well. It will be the key to your femininity. You are lucky that you are a handsome man. We have a saying at Vive la Différence: a pretty boy makes a pretty girl,” Dominique said purposefully.

As Dominque applied the concealer, foundation, blush and finishing powder she explained how they evened out the skin tone, accentuated the cheekbones and gave the face a more symmetrical and balanced look. When she applied the eyeliner, eyeshadow and mascara she demonstrated how the eye makeup made Ashton’s green eyes become more radiant. She put on two coats of bold red lipstick, carefully overlining the lipstick to delineate full, plump lips. She wiped the makeup off and made Ashton do it until he could do a half-decent job.

The crowning glory was a stylish, shoulder length brunette wig with sweeping bangs. Ashton couldn’t believe it was the same person staring back at him. What he saw was a gorgeous feminine woman. Something clicked in his psyche and his personality transformed along with his appearance. Ashton was gone; his conscious identity was replaced by that of a young woman.

“Ashley. My name is Ashley,” the attractive young lady spoke into the mirror.

Domique spent some time playing dress-up with Ashley who enjoyed trying on most of the outfits in Dominque’s wardrobe. They settled on nice tight pencil skirt and white satin blouse which Dominque accessorised with costume jewellery. Dominique’s high heels were a size too big for Ashley but they made do and spent the rest of the evening teaching Ashley how to walk in them, developing feminine mannerisms and working on the tone of her voice.

They made love before Ashley relinquished her feminine countenance. Dominique lying on the bed with Ashley on top of her.

“It won’t be long before you wonder what it is like to be in my position; to be the one being fucked rather than the one on top doing the fucking.” Dominque teased Ashley as they lay in each other’s arms after they had finished making love.

“Never,” Ashley whispered but Dominique felt there was no real conviction to the statement.

Ashton took every opportunity he could to visit Dominique and as soon as he arrived he ditched his male attire and persona and transformed into Ashley. Even at work Ashley crept into Ashton’s thoughts and took over his mind. She was becoming the dominant personality and it didn’t take much convincing to coax Ashley into going out to Vive la Différence enfemme.

The opportunity to go out into the world as Ashley was too much of a temptation to resist and when Dominique told Ashley that she was convincing enough to carry it off, Ashely leapt at the chance. She had acquired her own clothes, shoes and makeup, purchased on the black market ostensively as trade items. It was common for soldiers to trade finery, nylons, chocolates and other hard to get treats for sex and the black marketeer didn’t blink when Ashton purchased the feminine requisites.

“There is only one stipulation darling. Tonight I will be the top and you will be the bottom,” Domique stated as Ashley began to strip to get changed.

Ashley had been wondering for a while what it might be like to the ‘woman’ whilst having sex. She was already more than happy to stroke, fondle and fellate Dominque when they made love and she enjoyed doing so. Taking the ultimate step of being penetrated however seemed daunting.

“Ok. I’ll do it,” Ashely whispered, surprising even herself with how quickly she acquiesced.

“Come with me to the privy. I’ll show you how to clean,” Dominique said and at first Ashley was puzzled but then it dawned on her what Dominique was implying.

She realised that it was an unpleasant necessity and she followed Dominique to the privy and did what was necessary before returning to main room to dress for her first night out. They left together, Dominique was dressed in the same basque with the short taffeta skirt, nylon stockings and heels and platinum blonde hair that she had worn when she had first met Ashton. Ashley was dressed in a form-fitting red satin evening gown, split to the thigh, matching high heels and fleshtone fully-fashioned stockings. She wore Dominique’s shoulder length brunette bob with sweeping bangs. They both reeked of perfume and their costume jewellery glittered under the streetlights.

Ashley clung to Domonique when they first stepped out, convinced that she was going to be clocked and mocked but she slowly gained confidence and even managed to smile at the two American sailors who wolf-whistled at the two young women as they passed. At Vive la Différence they checked their coats and sat at a table near the back at Ashley’s insistence. She was still shy and self-conscious and she gulped down her first two drinks and then she mellowed out.

“Hello ladies, mind if we join you?” a smart looking soldier and his buddy sat down unbidden.

“Hey, can we get some drinks over here!” the other soldier called to one of hostesses.

“I don’t want this!” Ashley whispered into Dominique’s ear.

Ashley had just gotten comfortable being out and about as a girl and inside the familiarity and safety of Vive la Différence she felt at ease but now that these two American men were sitting at their table she was terrified.

“You know what we are, right?” Dominique said boldly to one of the American’s as he offered her a cigarette.

“Yes we know what you are. We heard about this place and it piqued our interest so we came here looking for something different but I have to say you two ladies look amazing. So as far as we are concerned, that’s what you are. Two beautiful young ladies out on the town and we would love to treat you, wouldn’t we Bob?” the soldier lit Dominque’s cigarette and nodded at his partner.

“That’s exactly right. I’m Bob and my friend here is Dan. And you are?” Bob smiled at Dominique and Ashley.

“I’m Dominique and this is Ashley,” Dominique smiled sweetly at the men but Ashley’s face remained dour.

She knew that she was on a knife’s edge. Dominique was very French in her deportment, mannerisms and of course her accent. Whilst Ashley could achieve a very convincing feminine countenance there was no doubt about her heritage. As soon as she opened her mouth she would be discovered.

“Does your friend speak?” Dan pulled his chair closer to Ashley and looked directly into her face.

This was it. She was about to be exposed.

“Yes of course Ashley speaks. She’s an American like you. She’s over here working as a freelance correspondent,” Dominque jumped in and saved Ashley from trying to conjure up a convincing cover story.

Ashley breathed a sigh of relief but she was far from placated.

“Make them leave or I will,” Ashley whispered angrily to Dominique as the men haggled over who was paying for the round.

“Stop behaving like a girl and behave like a girl. Enjoy the evening then I’ll take you home and keep my promise,” Dominique replied, gripping Ashley by the wrist and squeezing it until she nodded her assent.

“Yes of course I speak and thank you for the drink Dan. I think I’ll have another,” Ashley finally acknowledged the man sitting next to her and gulped down her gin and waived her empty glass at Dan.

“Well goddamn, she talks like an American and she drinks like an American too. Keep ‘em coming honey my date is thirsty,” Dan smiled at the hostess and dropped notes on her tray.

“Is that what I am Dan; your date?” Ashley knew that she had no choice but to play along.

The soldiers weren’t leaving and Dominique was enjoying their company so she might as well pretend that she too was delighted that the soldiers had decided to join them. Ashley spent the next hour trying to keep Dan’s hands from wandering too far under her dress but she allowed him to stroke her thighs. To her surprise she quite liked the attention. Dan’s salaciousness validated her femininity. When he leaned in to kiss her she politely stopped him the first few times but finally she surrendered and when Dan’s lips pressed against hers and the tip of his tongue tickled her tongue she actually felt a spark of desire. The more she drank, the more licentious she became as her uncomfortableness dissipated.

Dominique was holding back nothing, allowing Bob to openly feel her up and returning his kisses with vigour. Ashley felt a tinge of jealousy and let Dan put his hand right under her dress so he could caress her stocking-tops and fondle the lace edge of her panties. She opened her mouth a little wider so that Dan could tongue kiss her deeply and passionately. When Dan took her hand placed it in his lap she could feel the outline of his engorged penis through his uniform trousers, she was both shocked and pleased. Shocked that Dan was being so brazen but pleased that she had caused him to become concupiscent.

Ashley knew that she was drinking too much but the alcohol boosted her confidence and allowed her to concoct a story that elaborated Dominique’s fabrication that Ashley was journalist. She told Dan that during the day she worked as a male war correspondent reporting on France’s recovery after the war. As Ashton was working with the army directly in support of that effort Ashley had enough knowledge to manufacture a convincing story. Ashley explained that she had been a crossdresser for as long as she could remember and when she discovered Vive la Différence and befriended Dominique, she was able to openly and safely express her femininity in an establishment that welcomed her kind.

The half-truth was believable and both Dan and Bob accepted her story as the truth.

When it was time to leave Ashley fully expected that she and Dominique would be leaving alone but Dan and Bob had other ideas and much to Ashley’s chagrin Dominique accepted the soldiers offer to walk them home.

“We can’t let two beautiful ladies like yourself walk alone through the city at such a late hour, anything could happen to you and we would never forgive ourselves,” Dan grinned at the two pretty transvestites.

“We ditch them at the door to the apartment, right Dominique? I’m really looking forward to you taking my cherry and these guys are becoming boorish. This wasn’t what I was looking for when I agreed to go out with you to Vive,” Ashley said as the girls stopped at the cloakroom to pick up their coats.

“Don’t be such a, what do you American’s say… a party-pooper Ashley. Dan and Bob have been buying us drinks all night and Bob is cute and you seem to be getting along with Dan,” Dominique countered.

Ashley had no choice but to go along as she could hardly return to camp dressed as she was.

Back at Dominique’s apartment Dominique poured everyone brandy and she and Bob retired to the bedroom almost immediately leaving Ashley and Dan alone in the little kitchen-cum-sitting room. Ashley was really angry now. This was not what she had agreed to. She and Dominique were supposed to have enjoyed an evening at Vive and then come home alone to make love, not bring home two horny GIs. Ashley felt that she was in a precarious position.

Then things suddenly got worse for her.

“A war correspondent eh Ashley? I think your ruse is up,” Dan had found Ashton’s uniform blouse hanging on a hook behind the door.

Ashley paled.

Ashley stood in the middle of the room clutching her glass of brandy to her chest. She was in a total panic but unable to move. A thousand thoughts ran through her head. If Dan exposed her, Ashton would be court-martialled and sent home in disgrace.

It was a fight or flight situation and Ashley chose flight.

“Let me explain,” she said to Dan and then she bolted for the door.

She would hide out somewhere until the two soldiers left and then she would come back to the apartment, transform back into Ashton and never see Dominique again. Her days of crossdressing were over. She might have made it except she was wearing high heels and Dan was unencumbered.

He caught Ashley around the waist and drove her onto the old overstuffed sofa and lay on top of her. She looked up at him, her green eyes filled with fear. Dan felt her body trembling beneath him. Ashley’s breath smelled of cigarettes and booze but there was a sweet undercurrent and her perfume smelled exotic. He lay on top of the petite transvestite who was quivering with trepidation, her big beautiful eyes alive with fear and her pretty face filled with angst. He could feel her heart racing and her heavy breathing. Dan felt powerful and in control.

Dan lowered his face to Ashley’s and put his lips on hers.

He kissed her and Ashley let him. She didn't know what else to do. She was frightened, dazed and confused.

Her lips were soft and her breath was sweet and Dan slipped his tongue into her mouth and she made no move to stop him. She had let him kiss her and fondle her at Vive, she had felt his penis. He knew her secret. What was the point of trying to fight?

Dan knew that Ashley was a soldier masquerading as a woman but hadn’t he gone with Bob to Vive la Différence expressly to try something new and exotic? His rational mind told him that he should stop kissing Ashley immediately and drag her back to the barracks to face the music. But how was he going to explain how he had exposed her? Besides, she seemed so afraid of him that she would do anything and he wanted her.

The girl lying beneath him felt wonderful, her satin-sheathed body was moulded to his. He knew that her legs were long and shapely and just to confirm it he slipped a hand inside the split in her dress and stroked her silky gossamer-clad thigh. She was pretty, feminine and sexy and a renewed sense of excitement overcame him.

Dan kept kissing Ashley and she acquiesced but tensed up when he put his hand inside her dress so he removed it. He stroked her hair as he continued to kiss her softly, the tip of his tongue gently exploring her mouth. Ashley could do nothing to stop him so she returned his kisses and hoped that Dan would either sober up and realise the absurdity of the situation or would quickly climax without the need for penetration and leave sated.

But she had to admit that having this ruggedly handsome soldier lying on top of her, pressing his needs on her, was somewhat exciting. She had felt nothing but feminine since she had transitioned from Ashton to Ashley and having sex with Dominique was exciting and satisfying but having a masculine handsome man desire her made her feel extremely effete. It was one thing to be desired by another of her ilk, but wasn’t the truest test of her femininity to be desired by a man?

Dan's soft kisses were beguilingly sweet and yet at the same time masculine and dominant. She felt vulnerable but she also felt something else; she also felt an avidity for what he was doing to her, how he was treating her. He was treating her like a woman but what else did he want from her? She had no doubts that she would soon find out.

“What are your intentions?” she gasped when Dan finally allowed her to breathe.

“I think you know Ashley, don’t be so obtuse. I hold all the cards here,” Dan whispered menacingly and he lowered his mouth to hers again and Ashley just lay there and let him.

She responded; tentatively at first as Dan kissed her sensuously and when his tongue began to explore her mouth she slid her tongue into his. This was so different to kissing Dominique. Dominique's kisses were soft and feminine even when they were engaged in full-blown lust. Dan's kisses were manly and a little insistent but not overly so. She could smell his aftershave and his muscled body pressing on hers. She could feel the bulge of his cock through her gown.

It both terrified and excited her. She wanted him to stop but she also wanted him to continue.

When Ashley began to return Dan's kisses, Dan did not think of her as being an American soldier dressed as a woman. He thought of the lovely creature beneath him only as uniquely beautiful and feminine in her own way. His inquisitiveness was as piqued as his ardour. How far was he filling to go with this pretty transvestite? Would he be appalled when he finally discovered what she was hiding in her panties? Dan fully intended to find out.

Her mouth was sweet and her satin gown slithered on her lithe frame whenever he moved above her. He would like to feel the cool silkiness of that gown against his naked flesh. His hand strayed to the split in her dress and rested just above Ashley’s knee. He gently caressed her nylon-sheathed limb, the slinky diaphanousness of her stockings felt delicious and inviting. His cock began to uncoil like a snake awakened from its slumber.

Dan's kisses were exciting and instinctively Ashley draped her arms around him. She stroked the hard muscles of his biceps through his khaki shirt with her fingertips. This too was an instinctive reaction; a response to her bourgeoning femininity and her ingrained need to feel what it was like to be adored by a real man.

When Dan's fingers began to caress her legs she froze but his kisses were becoming fervent and his fingers circled her thighs just above her knee where they elicited wonderful little sparks of delight.

Was this as wrong? Was this a step too far? She had started her journey as a man who lusted after a beautiful young transvestite, attracted to her delicate undergarments and hosiery as much as her body. Dominique had encouraged Ashley to wear her foundation garments, then she had fully feminised Ashley and Ashley had adored it and the experience made her feel something unexplainable and had broadened her horizons sexually. Then Dominique had persuaded Ashley to come out of the closet and go out on the town with her. Now Ashley found herself in a perplexing situation which both excited and terrified her. Did she really want to be sexually active with a man so early in her transformation?

Dan answered that question for her when his fingers continued their journey up her thighs, exploring her nylon-sheathed limbs, stirring feelings of delight as he softly caressed her slinky nylons. She felt herself becoming tumescent; uncomfortably so. She gasped into Dan's mouth when he reached the top of her thigh and his fingers caressed the skin above her stockings.

Dan was sexually charged, having gone to Vive expressly intending to fuck a transvestite he now found himself alone with this lovely young crossdresser. He could hear sex noises coming from the bedroom and he knew what his buddy was doing to Dominique. There would be no witnesses other that Bob and Ashley, both of whom would have to keep what happened this evening a secret, albeit for different reasons.

Stroking her stocking-clad legs and feeling her satin gowned body against his was charging Dan's sex drive and he paused briefly to strip naked, which both alarmed and excited Ashley. She was about to cross the Rubican and there would be no returning. She justified her actions to herself: she was in an impossible situation and had no choice but to submit.

"Don't worry, I won’t tell anyone about this," Dan smiled down at Ashley salaciously and placed his penis on her thigh.

"Oh my!" Ashley exclaimed before Dan closed his mouth over hers.

Dan kissed her passionately and Ashley writhed beneath him enjoying the feel of his muscled body pressed against hers and the girth of his penis pressing on her leg. She could feel the heat of it, the pulsing realness of it on her flesh and she moaned into Dan’s mouth. This was so different to the soft coupling she experienced with Dominique. She was being seduced by a real man.

This lovely young creature lay under him dressed in her silky dress, slinky nylons, high heels and full makeup. The feel of her satin gown on his bare flesh was both exotic and erotic. Her nylon-sheathed thighs scissored against his which drove Dan wild with lust.

His hands were everywhere inside her dress, stroking her legs, fondling her panties, pushing her hips into the sofa to hold her down. She was so diminutive and Dan was so strong and Ashley was so submissive.

Ashley couldn’t help but respond to having this brutish young soldier ravish her. His hard body pressed on her belly, rubbing her satin gown against her nylon panties. Her penis was throbbing and leaking pre-ejaculate. Dan's kisses had become fervent and his lips were crushing hers and his tongue waggled in her mouth. The feel of his hard manhood against her legs and groin was both menacing and exciting and she wrapped her legs around Dan's body and raked her fingernails down his back. She returned his kisses. Dan delighted in the feel of Ashley’s long stocking-clad limbs caressing his skin and the sting of her nails on his back. He suppressed a grin and continued to work his tongue into her mouth and grind his cock against her body.

He realised that Ashley had surrendered. This gorgeous little satin-wrapped creature was his to do with as he might. The sense of power and carnality was heady. His cock was throbbing and he was not far from release.

"I'm going to fuck you now," Dan whispered.

"I’m not sure I’m ready for that," Ashley admitted.

Ashley’s fear returned but she knew that the time had come to surrender her anal virginity. She had planned that Dominique would be the one to take it but she was resigned to submit to Dan. She could hear Bob and Dominque fucking in the bedroom and the noises they were making increased her desire. She was as ready as she would ever be and she slipped her fingers between the cushions of the sofa and found the little jar of petroleum jelly that she used to lubricate Dominique’s ass when they fucked on the sofa.

Dan took the jar from Ashley and dipped his fingers into the salve and generously slathered it on his engorged member. He pulled the crotch of Ashley’s panties aside exposing her puckered bud and pressed the glans of his cock into the wrinkled aperture and began to push.

"Be gentle,” Ashley whispered and prepared herself as best she could.

Dan continued to push and this time he entered her.

Ashley nearly fainted with the pain of it.

"Oh that hurts!" she whimpered; shocked at the feel of her sphincter being stretched wide.

Dan paused but he didn't take his cock out of Ashley’s tight anus. He had about a third of his manhood buried in Ashley’s snug passage and he leaned down and kissed her. Dan pushed another inch of his erect manhood inside Ashley and she gasped but didn't scream. She felt stretched to breaking point and fuller than she had ever felt but she also felt something else through the burning pain. She felt little ringlets of pleasure radiating from her distended aperture. Ashley concentrated on relaxing her anal muscles as Dan kissed her and stroked her face.

Dan sensed Ashley relax and he pushed a little harder, sliding the last of his engorged manhood into Ashley's distended anus. Ashley felt his pubis slam into hers and his scrotum slap against her buttocks as his cock lay nestled deep inside her. His hard belly pressed against her engorged penis still trapped in her wispy nylon panties.

She put her arms around Dan’s neck and legs around his waist and hung onto Dan, returning his kisses as he slowly began to fuck her. She couldn't control herself and almost immediately semen began to dribble from the eye of her cock as Dan gripped her hips and drove his cock slowly in and out of her stretched anus. The feel of her tight tunnel clasping his bloated penis was unbelievably delightful.

Dan could feel Ashley shaking as a prolonged orgasm wracked her body. She clung to him, her silken-sheathed limbs caressing his flanks, her heels scratching his back. He looked down briefly and was amazed by the continual flow of semen dribbling from her cock, soaking her panties and bubbling through the diaphanous garment. The hot glutinous emissions coated his belly as Ashley pulled his face to hers and kissed him frenetically as her orgasm washed over her.

Ashley was in total orgasmic bliss. Dan’s bloated cock was distending her sphincter and her anus, his glans pressing on her prostate, his lips crushing hers, his tongue slithering in her mouth as he began to fuck her harder. It hurt but it hurt wonderfully and her prolonged orgasm finally peaked and she felt magnificently filled and content.

Dan could feel his climax approaching and there was no stopping it. He slipped his hands under Ashley’s buttocks and lifted her bottom off the sofa and began to jackhammer his cock in out of her tight hole and she clung to him moaning and sighing. She didn't think Dan’s cock could get any bigger but she felt it suddenly expand and then begin to pulsate as he filled her back passage with his issue. His scalding semen filled her and dribbled from her tight ring, running down between her buttocks and her thighs. Another orgasm washed over Ashley; this one more intense and earthshattering.

She clung to Dan like a limpet while he ravished her anus with his huge cock. It stretched her anal sheath to full capacity but it felt wonderful as circlets of pleasure pervaded her prostate, her sphincter was on fire, her cock pressed against his hard belly and spewed forth her spend a second time, flooding her already saturated panties.

Dan felt Ashley’s warm seed on his belly but he was not repulsed; on the contrary it amplified his own pleasure as he continued to ejaculate; Ashley’s pulsating anus milking him of every drop of his spend. He lowered Ashley’s buttocks back down on the sofa and drove his cock all the in her as far as it would go until she moaned like a whore. He stifled her scream with a passionate kiss and she scratched his flesh with her nails and drummed her heels on his back as his climax peaked and subsided. Her aching anus was stretched and sore but still emitting weak pulses of pleasure and delight.

Ashley heard the door to the bedroom open and glanced up over Dan’s shoulder and saw Dominique grinning at her. Bob stood beside her naked, watching his buddy deflower the young transvestite, his cock erect and a smile on his face. Bob put his arms around Dominique’s waist and dragged back into the bedroom and kicked the door shut.

Dan and Ashley clung to each other as they mewled and kissed and fondled; neither of them saying anything coherent, both lost in post coital bliss until finally Dan’s penis plopped from her anus like a cork from a bottle, releasing a flood of semen.

As the afterglow of their tryst began to subside, the enormity of what had occurred dawned on her. She couldn’t believe that Dan had caused her to climax twice in succession but that’s not what concerned her. What concerned her was what was to come next. She heard the squeaking bedsprings and the bedhead rattling against the wall behind the bedroom door suddenly cease. Bob had obviously finished with Dominique.

Dan sat on the edge of the sofa nearly fully dressed, pulling on his boots. Ashley lay on the sofa, her panties drenched with her semen. Her anus and sphincter felt bruised and battered, her makeup was smeared and her dress askew. She wiped a cloth between her legs to soak up the dribbles of creamy issue oozing from her anus.

The bedroom door opened and Bob emerged dressed in his uniform, a cigarette dangling from his mouth just as Dan finished lacing his boots.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night at Vive la Différence,” Dan patted Ashley on head like one might pat an obedient puppy.

“I’m not sure I’ll be there,” Ashley said, sounding petulant.

“Oh, you will be there,” Dan smirked as he and Bob left the apartment looking smug.

“What the fuck was that?” Ashley growled at Dominque who came out of the bedroom smoking a cigarette, naked except for a satin nightgown.

“Oh don’t be so petulant. I saw you, heels in the air, fornicating like a slattern. You loved it,” Dominique said offhandedly, making her way to the bureau to pour more brandy.

“It was supposed be just you and me. I was saving myself for you,” Ashley arose from the sofa and snatched the proffered glass of liquor.

“As your English compatriots are want to say: the lady doth protest too much, methinks,” Dominique flopped on the sofa.

“And given what I witnessed and the state of my divan cover, you certainly didn’t mind,” Dominque pointed to the wet patch where Ashley had laid during her deflowering.

“Dan knows that I’m army, not a war correspondent. He found my blouse,” Ashley dropped onto the couch beside Dominique, carefully avoiding the semen drenched coverlet.

“I’m through Dominique! I’m not doing this anymore,” Ashley drained her glass and got to her feet and began to disrobe.

“Alors tu dis,” Dominque replied flippantly and sat drinking while Ashley transformed back into Ashton.

The next day at the field headquarters where Private Ashton Bellamy worked as a paymaster handling regimental finances and helping oversee military funding provided for post-war reconstruction, it was business as usual but Ashton was hungover and confused. The previous evening had not gone to plan and he was perplexed and remorseful. He loved being at Vive presenting as Ashley and he didn’t even mind the attention of the two soldiers but he felt that Dominique had betrayed Ashley by encouraging Bob and Dan to join them at her apartment.

The more Ashton thought about it the more he suspected that Dominique fully intended for the soldiers come back to the apartment as soon as the soldiers joined them at their table. Dominique was a prostitute and that was how she made her living. In reality Ashley was only one of her courtiers. Sure, they were good friends and Dominique had feminised Ashley and introduced her to transvestite sex but Ashley was still paying for the privilege.

What happened at the apartment invoked conflicting emotions. Ashley was delighted to feel her femininity fully validated when Dan became attracted to her. If the truth be known, once she surrendered, the sex was amazing, satisfying and also authenticated Ashley’s self-awareness of her womanhood. When presenting as Ashley, Ashton disappeared from Ashley’s psyche. But the two worlds collided when Dan found Ashton’s blouse. Ashley and Ashton could not coexist. It didn’t work conceptually or psychologically. One had to surrender their existence for the other exist. Then there were the consequences of being exposed, which were unthinkable.

Ashton vowed to himself that his days of crossdressing were a thing of the past. It had all gotten out of control and it was an obsession that was both dangerous and addictive. He would rid himself of Ashley and the compulsions that she elicited in him. His resolve set, he busied himself with work to stop thinking about the events of the previous evening.

Private Bellamy was working diligently at his desk when he was approached by a handsome, muscular soldier wearing the uniform of an infantry sergeant. Ashton looked up and saw the NCO and was speechless. The name bar on his uniform read: Daniel Salter.

“I’ll see you at Vive la Différence at eight tonight. Be there or be prepared to face the consequences Private Bellamy. Au revoir Ashley,” Sergent Daniel Salter winked salaciously and marched away.

Before he left he dropped a package of fifteen denier fully-fashioned stockings that were only available on the black market on the desk.

Ashton watched the sergeant leave and knew that his fate was sealed.

And it was.

The next six months were both a dream and nightmare. Sargeant Salter used his influence so that Private Bellamy was excused duties outside of regular working hours meaning that he had every evening free and those evenings were spent as Ashley entertaining Sergeants Daniel Salter and Robert Dunlop.

Ashton would arrive at Dominique’s apartment in the early evening and perform the transformation ritual to become Ashley and then she and Dominique would head out to Vive la Différence. They might even allow other patrons to buy them drinks and dance with them. Ashley quite liked dancing and she soon became accustomed to taking the follower’s role. But regardless of who might entertain Ashley and Dominique they always left with Dan and Bob.

In the apartment the debauchery began. Dan and Bob passed Dominque and Ashley around, depending on their mood, sometimes all of them together in the bed or sometimes in separate rooms. Ashley was even more perplexed and guilt-ridden because she liked going out to the club and she even liked the sex and the attention of Dan and Bob who were never abusive but firmly in control. The threat of being exposed hung over her Ashley’s head like the sword of Damocles. She felt compelled to provide these men with what they wanted. She felt blackmailed and threatened.

During the day Ashton was unable to concentrate and worked under a dark cloud. The only relief came when he arrived at Dominique’s and transformed into Ashey but the next day the guilt and self-pity returned.

When Private Ashton Bellamy returned to America and was discharged from the army he vowed never again to be lured into the world of crossdressing. He shut Ashley away deep inside his subconsciousness. He was rid of her and he never thought about or discussed with anyone his service in post-war France. He was one of those veterans who never spoke of their service but Ashton’s reasons for doing so was not to quash the horrors of war; it was because of shame and guilt.

Ashley became a tiny speck deep inside Ashton’s subconscious but she never completely disappeared. She lay dormant for years but she emerged one day, totally unbidden, like a butterfly from a pupa, and spread her wings.

Charlottesville, Virginia - 1955

Ashton Bellamy met Lily Dalgliesh at her thrift shop: New Again. He was browsing the racks of skirts, dresses and blouses looking for something that might fit. It was nine years since he worn women’s clothing or even had the urge to.

Ashley had emerged from his subconscious one day out of nowhere while Ashton was riding a streetcar. A good looking woman was standing in front of him in the crowded car. The hem of her skirt was askew, her high heels were scuffed and the seams of her stockings were crooked. Ashley would never go out like that; she always took pride in her appearance.

Ashton shook his head trying to dislodge Ashley but she wouldn’t budge. The memory of slipping into a satin petticoat, of rolling nylon stockings up freshly shaved legs, of stepping into a skirt, of slipping her nylon-sheathed feet into four-inch high heel pumps returned like an unstoppable force. Ashton became fixated with the women around him. Not sexually; he was more interested in their appearance and what they were wearing. How they wore their hair and makeup, how they comported themselves. Ashley kept sneaking into his psyche unbidden. The urge to dress and become the woman who was trapped inside Ashton became overwhelming.

It started with Ashton purchasing hosiery and foundation garments and wearing them in his bedroom at night and before long he was browsing the racks in the women’s clothing section at department stores. He noticed that he was being observed whilst doing so and the disapproving looks portended danger so he began to browse thrift shops where his actions weren't so noticeable.

Lily Dalgliesh smiled knowingly when she saw Ashton browsing the ladies section of her little thrift store. This was his third visit to the store but so far he had never made a purchase and Lily knew why. He wasn’t there to buy ladies requisites for a wife or girlfriend, he was there to acquire clothes for himself but he was too scared to take them off the rack, try them on and then take them to the counter.

The man was lost in a reverie, admiring a satin evening gown, almost as if he was in a trance and he hadn’t realised that it was past closing time.

Lily waited until the store was empty and changed the sign on the door from Open to Closed and locked it.

“That should fit you perfectly. You would need to cinch your waist a little to get the full effect but it looks to me like you have the legs and hips for it,” Lily sidled up to Ashton who came out of his reverie and looked shocked.

“Don’t give me that look. I’ve been watching you. You aren't here to buy something for a wife or girlfriend you are looking for something for yourself. I have other male customers just like you. More than you might think,” Lily smiled at him and Ashton knew that the woman had seen right through him.

“Ok, what’s the deal?” Ashton asked.

“I’ll put aside pieces for you that you can try on for size and appraise here in the store after I close for the day. If you need other things that might be hard for you to shop for like makeup and so on I’ll get them for you,” Lily took the dress from Ashton and took it off the coat hanger.

“Go and try it on in the dressing room, there’s only the two of us here and the front door is locked and the blinds are pulled,” she handed the dress back to Ashton.

“So… what’s in it for you?” Ashton asked.

“Well there will be a markup of course, which I will pocket, but the arrangement will be beneficial for us both,” Lily smiled and lit a cigarette.

“How many men do you do this for?” Ashton asked, admiring the stitching on the gown.

“Oh, you will have my absolute and unqualified confidentiality and that is what I offer the others. A lady never tells,” Lily directed Ashton to the fitting rooms.

Thus began a relationship that served both Ashton and Lily perfectly. All Ashton needed now was somewhere where he could become Ashley in absolute privacy. Ashley was never again going to make the mistakes she had made in France.

Ashton was by this time divorced and lived alone in a small house in Charlottesville. He had few friends and no family but he wasn’t lonely. He was a man who enjoyed his own company and who spent all his spare time at the cabin near Poor Mountain that had been built by his father. He liked the solitude and isolation and although he sometimes hunted and fished he was happy just to sit and read, complete puzzles and of course to masturbate using pornographic magazines to fuel his fantasies.

When Ashley returned and became the dominant identity and Lily Dalgliesh became her advocate, Ashton realised that the cabin would be the perfect place to allow herself to flourish in safety. Ashton didn’t want a repeat performance of what had occurred in France all those years ago. Ashley could do as she liked in the solitude of the remote cabin, free from being discovered and more importantly unable to succumb to any desire to come out into the world.

He cleared the cabin of all manly possessions and installed the armoire which he filled with Ashley’s belongings. He purchased pornography that titillated Ashley’s desires and acquired a small selection of dildos. Ashley was free to be herself every minute of every day at the cabin and she could even satisfy her sexual urges so long as she did so in isolation.

It was strange relationship that a psychiatrist would love to explore should Ashton permit it but he never would. Ashton and Ashley were split personalities. Ashton surrendered himself to Ashley as soon as he arrived at the cabin and Ashley surrendered her psyche to Ashton when it was time to leave. For over two years this arrangement worked marvellously with Lily Dalgliesh acting as their intermediary and the only person who knew their secret.

That was of course until the Mitchell brothers robbed the Broughton Savings & Loan and Dexter got himself shot and Randy sought out a hideout to lay low until the heat was off.

Now Ashley found herself confronted by this desperate bank robber, alone in the cabin deep in the woods, miles from help.

To be continued…