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…

Nowhere To Run - Chapter 2

Author:

Michele Nylons

Caution:

CAUTION: Sex / Sexual Scenes

Audience Rating:

EXPLICIT CONTENT

Publication:

Final Chapter

Genre:

Mystery or Suspense

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Chapter Two – To The Victor Go The Spoils

The Cabin – Poor Mountain Virginia – 1957

“I asked you if you have anything to drink?” Randy repeated himself.

The woman seemed to have gone into a fugue as if she was daydreaming.

Ashley shook her head, clearing the memories of what had happened in Paris after the war from her mind. She needed to keep her composure and if possible conceal her true identity from this man.

“There is beer in the fridge and liquor in the cabinet over there,” Ashley pointed to a small sideboard.

“I’ll take a beer and a shot,” Randy walked over to a window and looked out and thought to himself that he had found the perfect hideout.

Ashley suddenly realised that the man was expecting her to get his drinks. She thought it best not to antagonise him. He was about her age, tall, good looking and muscular. There was blood on his clothes but he didn’t appear to be badly wounded. Quite the opposite, he appeared to be very fit and she would be no match for him in a fight.

Randy took her place on the couch when Ashley arose to get the drinks. The scent of her perfume lingered in the air and Randy studied her as she made her way to the liquor cabinet. He saw her glance longingly at the door and he smiled.

“You have nowhere to run lady. You wouldn’t last a day in the woods dressed like that and anyway I’d find you,” Randy said menacingly as he continued to study her.

He liked the way she moved gracefully across the room and the way spoke with her accent-less sultry inflection. His eyes were drawn to her legs which were long and shapely encased in sheer, almost translucent stockings with dark backseams and Cuban heels. Her waist was cinched tight, her skirtsuit fitted her nicely and when she bent over to take a bottle of liquor from the cabinet her rounded ass looked magnificent. The kick pleat in the back of her skirt opened a little and he could make out the gauzy welts of her stocking tops.

She was easy on the eye that was for sure, her face expertly embellished with makeup. Smoky eyes delineated with mascara, eyeliner and eyeshadow which drew attention to her emerald green orbs, her high cheekbones rouged, her lips full and plump coated with red lipstick, the bangs of her shoulder length brunette bob framed her visage. The only flaw that defied conventional beauty was that she was flat chested, with just the merest suggestion of breasts. Not that Randy cared, he was a leg and ass man.

He once again pondered why a woman would be dressed like that, alone in a cabin, miles from anywhere.

“I think I have it figured,” Randy said to Ashley who had her back to him pouring two glasses of malt whiskey.

“You may or may not be married but you're up here in this cabin to meet a lover and you are dressed like that to greet him when he gets here. I’m not going to surprised by some Lothario am I… what’s your name again?” Randy asked.

“You never asked. It’s Ashley and you couldn’t be further from the truth,” Ashley sighed as she made her way to the refrigerator and took out a bottle of beer which she opened and poured into two glasses.

She put the beer and the whiskey on a tray and carried it back to the couch and placed it on the coffee table. When she bent down to do so Randy looked down her blouse and confirmed that her breasts were almost non-existent, the cups were probably a size A.

There was nowhere else to sit so Ashley sat down beside him but sidled up to the edge of the couch putting as much distance as she could between herself and Randy. She was terrified but calm. Her years of army training had taught Ashley that fear was normal in a crisis but it could be tamed and even used to focus on the problem at hand.

“There is no husband and no boyfriend. I come up here for the solitude,” she whispered and downed her whiskey in one gulp and washed it down with a mouthful of beer.

“Well we will see about that I suppose but if a boyfriend does turn up I’ll be ready for him,” Randy patted the .45 that he had put on the table, easily within reach if needed.

“Are you bleeding?” Ashley decided to turn the subject away from what she was doing alone in the cabin.

“Nah, but this shirt and these pants are sticky with blood. You don’t need to know why but I could use a change of clothes,” Randy sipped his beer.

“Well I have no men’s clothes here to offer you,” the lie slipped easy off her tongue.

The man would have said something if he found Ashton’s clothes locked in the trunk under the bed when he searched the cabin.

“Well it looks like I’m stuck with the clothes I’m wearing but I stink and have blood all over me. I saw a tin bath hanging outside on the side of the shed. I’m going to bring it in here while you warm some water. I’ll take a bath while you wash my clothes,” Randy drained his glass and smiled insolently at Ashley.

Ashley paled at the prospect of having a naked man in the cabin with her but there wasn’t much she could do about it but comply.

“I’ll draw water while you get the bath. I’ll have to hand wash your clothes in the sink and dry them in front of the hearth,” Ashley said, acceding to Randy’s demands.

Randy stuffed the pistol in his belt and took the sawn-off shotgun with him when he went outside to get the bath down from the shed wall and dragged it inside. Ashley put pots of water on the stove and in the big pot suspended on the forged iron trivet over the open fireplace while Randy dragged the tin bath into the cabin. The temperature outside had fallen as the evening approached and it was getting dark.

“You still haven’t told me your name,” Ashley said as she fetched soap and towels from the cupboard.

“Randall but everyone calls me Randy,” Randy helped himself to more liquor while he watched Ashely go about her chores.

“I should go into the bedroom while you wash,” Ashley said when the water had reached a suitable temperature.

“No fucking way doll. You stay right here where I can see you. You can wash my clothes in the sink with your back to me if you're embarrassed,” Randy began to undress.

Ashley busied herself filling the bath with warm water and pouring the remainder into a basin in the sink. She kept her eyes averted while Randy stripped and lowered himself into the bath. She did notice that he dragged the same little stool she used to put her shaving mirror on beside the bath and rested his .45 on it and Randy looked at her and patted the gun, reminding her that it was close at hand.

She took off her jacket and rolled up her sleeves and began to wash Randy’s bloodstained shirt, the water turning pink as soon as she began to knead it. Ashley was no expert when it came to washing clothes by hand, except for rinsing her nylons and sometimes her lingerie in the sink. She took her clothes home to be washed in the washing machine and anything requiring drycleaning was given to Lily Dalgliesh who handled that for a small fee.

Randy luxuriated in the warm soapy water with his feet sticking up out of the bubbles and replayed the day’s events. Except for Dexter getting shot the bank robbery had been successful. He hadn’t had a chance to count the cash yet but he knew that he had quite a haul and one byproduct of his brother getting shot was that he wouldn’t have to split it. He’d also been able to give Darleen Coulter a farewell fuck and that was nice. Now he had a great place to hide out and some rather pleasant company to keep him occupied while he did so.

His mind drifted back to Darleen Coulter wearing her pencil-skirted suit and nylons and heels, perched on the edge of the bank manager’s desk with her legs wide open as he fucked her. Her nylon-swathed calves caressing his flanks, her heels locked behind his back, the sensation of his balls pressing against the crotch of her silk drawers, her flaming red hair in disarray and her head thrown back in lust as he thrust his substantial member in and out of her slick cunt.

He began to become concupiscent.

Randy swivelled his neck to watch Ashley with her back to him at the sink. Her prim rounded ass stretched the fabric of her skirt across her buttocks, the little kick pleat revealing a tantalising glimpse of stockingtop. Her pins, sheathed in the diaphanous nylons with the seam running straight down the back of her legs were a delight to behold and those four-inch high heels were titillating.

Randy took himself in hand and began to stroke his cock while he leered at the pretty petite woman, his imagination running wild. It seemed strange to him that a woman as good looking as her was unmarried and didn’t have a boyfriend… or so she said.

“Ashley! Get over here!” Randy called out.

Ashley froze with her back to Randy. Her hands were in the soapy water and she clutched Randy’s shirt desperately because she guessed what was coming. Ashley knew that she was a good looking woman because she had been told so many times by Dan and Bob and many of the patrons at Vive la Différence in Paris all those years ago and she had aged gracefully. Randall Mitchell was a bank robber wearing bloody clothes who was armed to the teeth and quite demanding. Ashley guessed that he would get around to demanding more from her than just domestic duties.

It wasn’t so much the thought of being forced to provide sexual services to this man as it was what would happen when he discovered that she was a transvestite. Would she disgust him? Would he beat her? Would he shoot her?

“I said get your ass over here!” Randy growled and banged the butt of his pistol on the stool.

Ashley kept her eyes averted and slowly made her way over to the bath.

“There’s a good girl now go and get me another drink doll,” Randy’s voice changed from being demanding to being conciliatory but Ashley wasn’t fooled.

She went over to the cabinet and poured a generous shot into Randy’s glass and brought it back and put it on the stool. She turned away intending to go back to the sink when Randy’s hand shot out and grabbed her by the wrist.

“While you are here you can wash my back,” Randy said, the words thick in his mouth.

The tension in the small cabin was building. Both occupants were aware of it but only one of them was terrified by it but Ashley knew that she had no choice but to comply. Her best chance of remaining undiscovered was to be submissive and use her skills to satisfy Randy’s urges whilst keeping on her clothes.

She got down on her knees and reached for the washcloth and dipped it in the warm water and soaped it up and then she began to massage Randy’s shoulders with it whilst trying her best to keep out of his reach. She had seen his organ, bloated and steely hard, sticking up out of the foam and she knew that Randy was sexually stimulated and the alcohol had diminished his inhibitions.

“That’s nice,” Randy leaned back in the tub and relaxed as Ashley washed his shoulders.

She was not being gentle about it but Randy enjoyed the feeling of her fingers digging into his flesh. Randy opened his eyes and looked sideways at the hand holding the washcloth. Ashley had long elegant fingers tipped with long manicured fingernails painted with red nailpolish that matched her lipstick. He imagined what they might feel like elsewhere on his body.

Ashley was concentrating on kneading Randy’s broad muscular shoulders, trying to keep her eyes averted from the rest of his body. It had been ten years since she had last touched a man. When the compunction to crossdress returned and Ashley began to creep into Ashton Bellamy’s psyche she had made a pact with herself. She would only express her femininity in private and alone. Release would be provided by her own hand or the dildo she kept in the bedside table. After what happened to her in Paris she would never again allow herself to be manipulated by men.

Randy took Ashely’s hand and guided it to his chest and she cooperated and began to massage his muscled torso. She had to reach around his body to do so. It was not only awkward, it strained her lower back so she had no choice but to kneel-walk sideways so she could reach the far side of his chest. She was now kneeling beside him, reaching across his body so she could massage his left shoulder.

The closeness of this attractive, provocative woman, the sent of her perfume, her stoic obedience roused Randy’s already stimulated libido. His cock rose out of the frothy water like a sturdy plinth and Ashley could no longer pretend that she hadn’t seen it. She was aware that Randy’s pistol was now within reach, sitting on the stool beside his glass of liquor. She could grab it, point it at him and tell him to leave.

But would he?

He might laugh at her, thinking she was some housewife who had never handled a gun. He might lunge for it causing either one of them to be accidently shot or he might just simply call her bluff and refuse to leave. In any event it was a decision she never got to make.

Randy made a bold move.

He pulled Ashley’s face to his and kissed her and used his other hand to direct her fingers to his swollen phallus. Ashley froze and let Randy kiss her. He tasted of cigarettes and whiskey and his face was stubbled but his lips were soft and his tongue was tenacious. He crushed his lips against hers and drove his tongue into Ashley’s mouth. Ashley could pretend all she liked that she was caught by surprise but she guessed this was coming. A handsome, virile, ruthless criminal and a pretty, subservient, provocatively dressed woman alone in a cabin far from the outside world was a recipe that would likely lead to only one consequence.

Ashley allowed Randy to kiss her, kneeling motionlessly over the tub, her face pressed to his. His loins thrust against her loosely clenched fingers but she made no attempt to grasp his erect phallus. She would be subservient but not complicit. Randy stopped clutching at her head and began to stroke her hair as he kissed her. He stopped thrusting against her hand which loosely held his erect manhood. He seemed to have decided to curb his aggression.

In a way Ashley wished he hadn’t. She would be able to justify her actions had Randy forced himself on her but now his kisses, whilst still passionate, were affectionate rather than demanding. He softly stroked her hair and then he caressed her cheek. His tongue languidly explored her mouth, his cock lay still, but fiercely rampant in her limp fingers.

Randy’s surge of rapine intent had dissipated and he felt a strange comforting longing for this woman to comply and accede to his desires or maybe even find him appealing and actively participate in the carnality but she remained strangely complacent.

He was about to let Ashley go. He might be an armed robber and a hostage taker but he was no rapist, when suddenly he felt a spark of salaciousness from her.

Ashley lightly brushed her tongue against Randy’s lips, slowly investigating them. Then she swirled her tongue in small circles and lightly flicked them. She put her arm around his shoulder and leaned in closer and eased her tongue into Randy’s mouth. He tasted the sweetness of her breath and her perfume was almost cloying but it was overpoweringly stimulating. Randy held her close but didn’t clutch and slowly the kiss became impassioned.

When Ashley took his swollen member into her hand and began to slowly masturbate him, Randy groaned into her mouth and his whole body shuddered. The kiss became more wanton and demanding, both of them crushing their lips together and intertwining their tongues. Ashley’s fingers drawing up and down Randy’s throbbing erection, deliberately slow and delightfully dissolutely. As beads of pre-ejaculate began to ooze from the eye Ashley rubbed them into Randy’s fraenulum and around the corona of his glans.

Ashley’s libido began to awaken after many years of dormancy. She could feel her cock becoming distended, pressing against the gusset of her satin panties where it was tucked. She knew from experience that it would soon become painful but to slip a hand under her skirt now might arouse Randy’s suspicion or maybe he might just think she was a woman giving her slit a quick rub to stimulate herself.

Either way she had no choice but to relieve the pressure building in the crotch of her undergarment. She rubbed Randy’s cock a little harder and faster causing him to moan longingly into her mouth and close his eyes as the pleasure radiated from his groin. Ashley took advantage and slipped her free and under her skirt and freed her burgeoning erection so that it tented her panties but remained out of Randy’s sight. Once the task was completed she put her free hand to good use and cupped Randy’s scrotum and coddled his testes while her other hand moved up and down his sleek shaft.

Their tongues were intertwined and Randy was gasping with every breath he took, such was the intensity of his ardour. Ashley continued to edge him, bringing him to the verge of extremis and then backing off. She was now fully committed to pleasuring her captor and she had to admit that she was enjoying every second of it.

Randy’s body began to quiver and his gasps became moans as he held Ashley even tighter, ferociously slithering his tongue in her mouth, his lips crushed against hers, his hips rising up out of the bathwater as his orgasm approached and Ashley, sensing Randy was at extremis, whipped her hand up and down his cock, the foamy lather acting as lubricant.

“Now!” Randy groaned and Ashley broke the kiss long enough to watch the first spurt of scalding semen erupt from Randy’s cock.

He pulled her face back to his and kissed her with ferocity as his cock exploded in her hand. She felt it quivering and freshets of warm semen spattered along her arm. She smiled around the kiss. Ashley was proud of her accomplishment and secretly delighted that she had not lost the skills she had developed in Paris. Even better, her true identity remained a secret. She had succumbed to the inevitable but had been able to keep her uniqueness undisclosed.

Ashley’s cock was as hard as Randy’s and she would have loved to slide her hand under her skirt and relieve the tension. It would only take a few quick strokes but she daren't. She responded to Randy’s kisses and continued to stroke his cock until it ceased ejaculating and then she let it fall flat against his belly, broke the kiss and disengaged.

“Where are you going?” Randy asked as Ashley began to stand up.

“I’m going to finish washing your clothes and then I’m going to hang them up. There’s a razor on the stool that I use to shave my legs if you want to shave,” Ashley’s voice was flat and uncaring.

“You don’t want to talk about what just happened?” Randy was confused by Ashley’s demeanour.

She had been reluctant at first but there was no doubt that she had been an active participant in what had just occurred. Those passionate kisses were not faked and her ministrations to his penis were consentient. He had given Ashley the opportunity to disengage but she had actively participated in their act of carnality.

“There’s nothing to talk about. You're a big strong man and I’m a diminutive woman and we are alone in this place miles from anywhere. You can do with me as you will so I chose the least offensive means to satisfy the needs you were invariably going to press on me,” Ashley tried her best to sound like the wounded party, as much to appease her own guilty conscience as to obfuscate her actions and make Randy feel culpable.

“Look, I’m not sure what’s going on here lady but you are crazy if you think I’m buying that you didn’t just enjoy what you did. I think you are some frustrated spinster who let her lust take over her reticence and now you're blaming me,” Randy huffed.

“Go back to washing my clothes and when you're finished you can make me something to eat,” Randy sniped and reached for his drink.

“And find me something to wear while my clothes dry,” he called after her as Ashley retired back to the kitchen sink, her erection slowly subsiding.

After washing and rinsing Randy’s clothes Ashley put them on a clothes rack in front of the hearth to dry and went into the bedroom. Her male attire was still hidden in the locked trunk under the bed but to bring them out would require an explanation and in any case they would be too small for Randy to wear. She opened her armoire and eventually settled on a silk robe that Randy could wear while his clothes dried.

She went back into the main room and lay the robe on the stool next to the bath and turned her back while Randy dried himself and put on the robe.

“This feels very nice, I can understand why women wear clothes like this,” Randy picked up his glass and his pistol and made his way to the kitchen.

“If you only knew,” Ashley whispered to herself.

It was now full dark and it had been long day for both occupants of the small cabin.

“What’s for dinner, doll?” Randy asked, taking another beer from the refrigerator.

It was a bizarre situation, both of them behaving as if what had occurred in the bath only moments ago hadn’t happened. Randy began to drain the bath while Ashley checked the refrigerator.

“I have steak if you want it,” Ashely sighed.

She wanted the ordeal to be over. Randy had come dangerously close to discovering who Ashley actually was and it was only Ashley’s quick thinking, masturbating Randy to relieve his libidinousness, that had prevented him from exploring her body further and exposing her secret. She secretly congratulated herself for being able to continue the ruse thus far, as it had been many years since Ashley had been out in public or engaged with another person whilst presenting herself femme.

“Steak sounds wonderful. Do you have a spare toothbrush?” Randy popped the beer, poured it into a glass and walked over to the bath.

Having drained the bath and taken it outside and hung it on the side of the generator shack cum tool shed, Randy came back inside to find that Ashley had placed a toothbrush and toothpaste next to his glass of beer. He stood beside her at the sink brushing his teeth while she prepared the steak and vegetables on the counter beside him. Water was boiling in a pot on the stove and a skillet was sitting over an open flame ready to grill the steak.

Ashley put the prepared vegetables in the pot and set the table while Randy resumed his position on the couch, sipping beer and smoking a cigarette watching Ashley go about her chores.

“Aren't we the domesticated couple,” Randy chuckled watching Ashley intently.

She had taken the time to touch up her makeup, freshen her perfume and brush her hair between chores and had rolled down her sleeves and put on her jacket.

“Well if you call being held hostage and forced to give my captor a handjob domesticated, I suppose it is,” Ashley replied sarcastically.

“The lady doth protest too much, methinks,” Randy guffawed.

Ashley was pouring herself a glass of wine and she froze mid pour.

Those were the exact words that Dominique had said to her after she had been deflowered by Sergent Daniel Salter in Paris all those years ago. She recalled the months of living with the threat of being exposed to the army by Sergeants Daniel Salter and Robert Dunlop who every night took their turn with her and Dominique in that little rundown apartment. She remembered the debauchery that took place on those evenings followed by the angst and anxiety that followed the next day.

Ashley turned to Randy with her resolve set to bring this farce to a conclusion and to accept the consequences.

“You look like someone has just walked over your grave,” Randy said with seemingly genuine concern.

“What you said. It brings back memories. Some of them pleasant and some of them not so pleasant,” Ashley admitted.

“Well Ashley, reminiscing isn’t going to cook my dinner,” Randy’s concern vanished and he became his confident ebullient self.

Ashley’s resolve to expose her true identity crumbled. She just couldn’t bring herself to do it so she went about setting the table and put the steak on the skillet. She was once again struck by the bizarreness of the situation. She was behaving like some sort of housewife pandering to her spouse, drawing him a bath, washing his clothes, fetching him something to wear, pouring him drinks and cooking his dinner. She didn’t want to think about the sex because she guessed there would be more to follow. She doubted that a man like Randy would be satisfied with just hand relief.

The charade continued as they sat at the table with dinner before them, sipping wine.

“So Ashley, you tell me you have no husband or boyfriend and that you come here for the solitude. Tell me more about yourself and how a lady as lovely as yourself has not found herself a beau,” Randy said around a mouthful of steak.

When Ashton had returned home after the war he was committed to never again allowing Ashley to usurp his conscience. If he could rid himself of her entirely he would have done so but the best he could do was to imprison her in his subconscious and suppress any memories of her.

He went to work at a financial institution and used the G.I. Bill to fund a college education and worked his way up the corporate ladder to become a finance manager at his firm which expanded across the US during the postwar period which was marked by economic prosperity, technological innovation, and a significant shift in societal values and priorities.

He became comfortably well-off and married an attractive woman named Jeannie for whom he felt a fond affection which he mistook for love. They had no children but lived a happy life with Ashton working long hours at the office while Jeannie enjoyed the privileges, advantages and the social life that came with being married to a man of reasonable wealth.

Jeannie did think it strange that Ashton prefer they make love while she was dressed in her lingerie and nylons, sometimes insisting that she leave on her heels but she supposed that it was some sort of fetish. He was an attentive and vigorous lover, although they failed to procreate which neither of them really minded.

Ashton inherited his father’s cabin in Poor Mountain and spent some money renovating and improving it but Jeannie hated it there, preferring the bright lights and bustle of the city. Ashton was no outdoorsman but he loved the seclusion of the cabin and spent many days and nights there by himself gathering his thoughts. He and Jeannie began to drift apart and after an amicable divorce, in which he left his big house to Jeannie, he moved into a modest apartment and became more reclusive.

Then came the fateful day that Ashley had emerged from his subconscious whilst he was riding that streetcar, silently admonishing a young lady for her slovenly appearance and slowly Ashley became the dominant personality and Ashton once again surrendered to the irresistible urge to present as a woman. The cabin was her refuge. Her safe space which had now been violated by this ruffian.

Ashley concocted a story based on the truth so as not to be caught out in any details that Randy might ask about.

She said that she had been a WAC serving as a clerk in the financial services corps and had served in France after the war ended and on returning to the US she pursued a career in finance management working for a large financial institution. She was divorced with no children and had inherited the cabin from her father as she was an only child. She had remained a spinster and came to the cabin as often as she could to get away from the city and the unwanted attention of men who only wanted her for one thing.

“Ok, I can buy all that but that doesn’t explain why you are dressed the way you are and why I can’t find any outdoor clothing or fishing and hunting gear,” Randy was not easily dissuaded.

“Those days are gone. I come here for the peace and quiet but I believe that a lady should always dress like one. I’m no fan of trousers, capris, culottes or jeans. I have a pair of jeans, a work shirt and a pair of sensible shoes for when I need to work outside but a woman should dress like a woman,” Ashley sensed the irony in her response but she remained straightlaced.

“Well I can’t say I disagree with you, although you could make a better show of your bust,” Randy drained his glass and Ashley blushed.

The meal was finished. Ashley had ate sparingly but Randy had eaten everything on his plate and drank half a bottle of wine. She got up to clear away and Randy look a bottle and two glasses over to the couch.

“So what do you do to while away the time? Do you knit or sew? I don’t see any sewing or knitting baskets,” Randy continued to question Ashley and she was becoming discomfited.

“I read. I listen to my record collection. I listen to the radio and there is plenty to do to keep the place clean and tidy. I sometimes bring work up here so I can do my job without being bothered,” Ashley told the truth although she omitted the part where she tried on different outfits and masturbated often, sometimes using the dildo in her bedside table to amuse and gratify her needs.

“The radio! Good idea. I wanna listen to the news,” Randy went over and switched on the radio and tuned it to a local news station.

Two men held up the Broughton Savings and Loan at Martinsville today. One of the men got away with an undisclosed but rumoured to be substantial amount of cash, the other man who was shot by a security guard, was captured at the Sydnorsville hospital. Police are asking local residents to be on the lookout for a man named Randall Mitchell who is driving a red Ford Thunderbird although they believe he may have already crossed the state line into North Carolina…

“I knew Dexter would rat me out but they took the bait,” a sinister smile crossed Randy’s face.

Ashley looked at him quizzically.

“My brother Dexter told the cops I’m heading to Raleigh where we have a hideout,” Randy explained.

“That’s how you got all that blood on your clothes, it’s your brother’s,” Ashley mused and Randy nodded.

“And you used a red Thunderbird for your getaway car? I didn’t think you would be that dumb, you seem pretty smart to me,” Ashley commented.

“It was pretty dumb I suppose,” Randy chuckled and turned off the radio.

He perused the record collection beside it and selected a record and put it on the platter. The opening stanza of Sam Cooke’s You Send Me loomed from the speaker of the Philco tabletop record player.

“Come dance with me,” Randy smiled at Ashley and opened his arms.

He was obviously a little drunk but Ashley couldn’t help being taken by how handsome he was. Ashley hadn’t danced with a man for years. Not since those days at Vive la Différence. Dancing around the cabin by herself didn’t count. She too had had quite a bit to drink and with her defences lowered she got up and allowed Randy to take her in his arms.

They danced in the floorspace between the couch and the hearth. Restricted by space and both a little drunk it was more of a shuffle than it was a waltz, Randy holding Ashley close, swaying in time with the music. Once again Randy was mesmerised my Ashley’s beauty and the scent of her perfume. Her diminutive form fitted perfectly against him. He did wish that she was wearing a colourful gown rather than her charcoal skirtsuit and her lack of cleavage was evident as they pressed their bodies together. Randy could feel that her brassiere cups held scant offerings but as he had plainly stated, he was ‘an ass and leg man’ anyway.

Ashley couldn’t help but feel comfortable being wrapped in Randy’s arms and being held close. It had been so long since she had experienced this that she had forgot how comfortable it felt and how the experience enhanced her femininity. It made her acutely aware of the delicious feel of the garments on her body. Her tightly cinched waist, the silky softness of her undergarments on her skin, the exquisite feel of nylon stockings on her freshly-shaved legs, the smell and taste of her cosmetics and perfume, the soft caress of her hair on her neck. She doubted that ‘real’ women delighted in this as much as she did because to them it was a daily occurrence but to Ashley it was an existential experience.

When Randy pressed his lips against hers she didn’t resist. She was aware that he was naked under the silk robe and she could feel the delineation of his muscled body against hers and was aware that he was becoming tumescent. His lips were soft and his tongue gently probed her mouth. He had moved his hands from her waist to her buttocks and was gently squeezing them as the couple swayed to the music.

Ashley made the decision then and there to let Randy find out her secret for himself and damn the consequences. She returned his kisses and locked her hands behind his neck and pressed her body against his as Randy began to gather the fabric of her skirt and slide it up her legs so that he had access to her lower extremities. When one of his hands slid under the hem and began to stroke her thighs, his fingers stroking the welts of her stockings and fiddling with the garter snaps, she didn’t resist or complain. When his other hand fondled the lace edge on the legholes of her panties before cupping her buttock she knew that soon the ruse would be up.

Randy was surprised that Ashley was allowing him to fondle her and return his kisses. He’d expected the same resistance that he had encountered when he was in the bath pressing his needs on her. He figured that she would attempt to fight him off then submit but this woman was an enigma and he began to suspect that she was telling the truth about not having a man in her life and he guessed that she secretly craved the attention of a man such as he; a handsome villainous stranger.

When his hand slid between her legs expecting to find a dewy cleft encased in lace-fringed satin he was surprised to find a semi-turgid penis lying snug along her perineum held in place by the tight-fitting satin panties. Randy was instantly enlightened and everything started to make sense.

They stopped swaying, although the song had long finished and the only sound coming from the record player was the scratch of the needle against vinyl.

Ashley screwed her eyes shut and waited for Randy to hit her or throw her across the room or worse. When nothing of the sort eventuated she took a step back and primly tugged at her skirt, pulling it back in place. She waited for Randy to begin ranting or at least say something but he remained stoic and simply stood there looking at her with a bemused look on his face that she took for alcohol induced stupefaction.

“I’m sure you have never met anyone like me before,” Ashley whispered and immediately felt stupid for opening with such a droll remark.

“Oh honey you are so wrong,” the look on Randy’s face changed from bemusement to amusement.

“Come sit with me and I’ll tell you a little story,” Randy took her hand led her to the couch where Ashley sat with her ass perched on the edge, ready to try to flee if Randy suddenly became violent but he remained calm and poured them both a drink.

Randy lit a cigarette and began to tell his story.

Roanoke River Correctional Facility – 1953

Randall Mitchell was convicted of a Class Five felony and sent to a minimum security prison as part of his plea deal. He would serve two years and then become eligible for parole and his intention was to keep his nose clean and do his time quietly without getting involved in anything illegal or breaking the code of conduct. During his first week of incarceration a prison bully had tried to stand over Randy and Randy had put him in the infirmary. The prisoner’s creed meant that the severely wounded punk kept his mouth shut but word got around that Randall Mitchell was not to be fucked with and was best left alone. Randy enjoyed being left alone to serve his time in peace.

Although Roanoke River Correctional Facility was minimum security and housed prisoners whose crimes were at the lower end of the felony spectrum it still housed some inmates who used coercion or violence to get what they wanted. Some of the prisoners had formed a loose association, that whilst not as egregious as the prison gangs in higher security prisons, they exerted significant influence over inmate life and engaged in various criminal activities.

Desmond Rutter was the man at the top of the association and he used whatever tactics were necessary to ensure that he lived a comfortable life inside the facility. He and his cohorts ran whatever scams they could get away with. Desmond was kicking back half of his profits to Captain Tony Truveen, the senior correctional officer, so the other corrections officers gave Desmond the latitude he needed. Some of the inmates were convicted of so called white collar crimes and came from wealthy backgrounds and Desmond targeted them, extorting protection money and coercing them to use their outside influences to his advantage.

Desmond lived in a cell that was as well appointed as any hotel room and wanted for nothing. He smuggled in cigarettes, booze and other niceties to keep him and his cohorts as comfortable as possible and sold the excess on the prison’s black market.

‘Nancy’ Elsher, whose real first name was Nathan, was a young inmate who had the privilege of running the commissary. He was nicknamed Nancy because he was outwardly gay and had a feminine voice but this was tolerated by the other inmates because of his employment. He was able to acquire bootleg items and sell them on. He was also protected by Desmond Rutter because most of Desmond’s contraband came in through the commissary and the guards were paid well to look the other way.

Twenty-year-old Nancy was of sleight build and had an effeminate disposition. He’d grown out his naturally blonde hair and was gregarious and flirtatious but he did not get involved sexually with other inmates, some of whom had decided that being gay-for-the-stay was better than not getting any sex at all. Desmond Rutter was not among those who dallied with prison homosexuality but the one thing he couldn’t acquire and desperately wanted was female companionship.

Nancy made the mistake of taking on a female role in one of the prison theatre productions and with access to ladies apparel and cosmetics through the commissary, actually presented as a passable gal. Most of the inmates had a good laugh at Nancy, the play was a farce after all, but some of them had very immoral thoughts about the character that Nancy played. One of those was Desmond Rutter who would never indulge in unsavoury behaviour with a masculine man but thought that Nancy would make a nice substitute for a real woman and decided that Nancy should become his prison wife.

Randy was working in the prison laundry when Nathan Elsher approached him. They were alone in the folding room, the rattle and hum of the big clothes dryers made it hard for anyone passing to hear what they were saying.

“I need your help,” Nancy got straight to the point.

Nancy was dressed in denim prison fatigues and he fiddled nervously with the tail of his shirt.

“Go see Desmond. Don’t you work for him?” Randy continued to fold sheets, he wasn’t interested in prison politics.

“I can’t. He’s the problem and his cronies are loyal,” Nancy replied, looking around nervously.

“There are plenty of guys in here who don’t work for Desmond and don’t like him. Go and see one of them,” Randy replied.

“Please Randy. You are one of the few men in here who Desmond is scared of. He told me himself that he wouldn’t want to get into a tussle with you,” Nancy’s voice had taken on a pleading tone that was beginning to annoy Randy but his interest was piqued by Nancy’s comment that Desmond feared him.

“What’s your problem?” Randy finally relented.

“You saw the play? You saw that I played Judy, the female lead?” Nancy asked.

Randy had seen the comedy-farce and he had enjoyed it, even though most of the inmates couldn’t act for shit, most of them overplaying their parts or stumbling through the production continually forgetting their lines. There were three female roles, all acted out by male inmates. The other two actors playing women were unconvincing, looking like linebackers in drag, but Nancy had presented very convincingly and Randy had to admit to thinking that if ‘Judy’ were a real woman he’d fuck her at the drop of a hat.

“Yeah, you did a great job,” Randy grunted, intent on folding the mountain of sheets stacked on the table.

“I did too good a job as it turns out. Look, outside I dallied in crossdressing and I know that I can look reasonably convincing but it’s not really my thing,” Nancy started to explain and Randy gave him a disgruntled look to show that he was impatient.

“Anyway after the show a couple of guys hit on me. They even offered me money to dress up as Judy and go to their cells but of course I declined. Then I got summoned to see Desmond Rutter,” Nancy continued.

“Get on with it Nancy, I haven’t got all day,” Randy growled.

“Desmond told me that I was to become his prison wife. I was to be in his cell every night before lights out presenting as Judy and… well you can guess the rest,” Nancy began to sob.

“Looks like you got yourself into a real conundrum there Nancy. You run the commissary and it’s no secret that you're Desmond’s connection to the outside, bringing in his contraband and now he wants more than just your collaboration. You shouldn’t have done such a good job playing that Judy chick,” Randy chuckled.

“What the fuck do you expect me to do about it?” Randy picked another sheet up off the pile.

“Everyone else is shit scared of Desmond but if you spoke to him and told him to lay off me I bet he’d do it. I’d make it worth your while. I can get almost anything brought in through the commissary and I’ll give you a good price and I can pad the script on your commissary account,” Nancy had stopped sobbing and was now pleading.

“Look Nancy, I’d like to help you out but I keep myself to myself. I have one year to go and I just wanna do my time quietly,” Randy said with finality.

“Please Randy. Can you imagine what that brute is going to do to me and it won’t be a one-off. He said I’m going to his prison wife for fuck sake,” Nancy begged.

“Sorry, I can’t help you,” Randy turned his back on Nancy and opened one of the driers.

Back in his cell later that afternoon Randy ruminated on what Nancy had said to him. Randy hated bullies and detested Desmond Rutter. He felt sorry for Nancy who had bargained with devil and now had to pay the consequences. He thought about it long and hard and finally made up his mind.

The next morning Desmond Rutter was from absent from the 6am headcount and rumours started circulating. Word got out that Desmond Rutter had been taken to the hospital and was in intensive care and would likely not be coming back to Roanoke River Correctional Facility because it was assumed he had been in a fight and it was his third strike.

At breakfast Nancy smiled at Randy from across the room and silently mouthed ‘thank you’ and Randy shrugged noncommittally. Everyone knew that Randy had entered Desmond’s cell early the previous evening but no one knew exactly what had happened inside the cell other than Desmond leaving on a stretcher. Randy had inadvertently become a hero to many in the prison who had been manipulated and suppressed under Desmond Rutter’s boot and Desmond’s band of followers were left leaderless.

When Randy returned to his cell after breakfast he found it empty. All of his possessions had been moved and he figured that he’d soon be transported to a high security facility for his part in the demise of Desmond Rutter.

“To the victor go the spoils,” Randy turned around and saw Tony Truveen blocking the doorway.

“What does that mean Captain?” Randy asked.

“You're moving into Desmond’s cell and you no longer work in the laundry,” Tony said, smiling whimsically.

“I don’t want it. I’ll stay here and keep my job in the laundry,” Randy replied.

“You got no choice. Taking out Rutter has left a vacuum in the order of things and I need it filled by someone who knows what they are doing. Rutter’s guys are squabbling over who will take over but they are shit-scared of you and you have the brains,” Tony jiggled the keys in his hand.

“You get to run things now but me and my boys will need our usual cut and I don’t want a fucking gang war. No more hospitalisations. Get on with it. Nancy knows how the business works and you can select your own muscle but make sure the coup is bloodless. Don’t think about it for too long, it’s this or I have you transferred to Lorton” Tony said and walked away.

Randy went to the prison library to think and soon realised that he had no choice but to take over Desmond Rutter’s criminal enterprises. It was that or transfer to Lorton prison, Tony Truveen had made that clear. He needed to get men he trusted to work for him and keep Desmond’s followers in line but he guessed most of them would hail the new Ceaser anyway. There was little loyalty in prison. He would need to consult with Nathan Elsher to find out how the smuggling racket worked. Randy went to the commissary to find Nancy but he wasn’t there. Another of the trustees was behind the counter and told Randy that Nancy was taking a break.

Randy suspected that Nancy was celebrating the departure of Desmond Rutter and expected to find Nancy in his cell drinking bootleg whiskey but he wasn’t there. He decided to check out the luxurious, by prison standards anyway, abode of Desmond Rutter which now belonged to him. Desmond’s ‘prison palace’, as some inmates referred to it, had been made by knocking out the wall between two cells and rendering and painting the walls with warm pastels, installing a double bed and other comfortable furniture. There was a radio and a record player and even a small refrigerator. Throw rugs were scattered across the bare concrete floor.

It was there that he found Nancy Elsher laying languidly on the bed dressed as Judy Valentine, the femme fatale Nancy had played in the prison theatre production.

“Close the door behind you,” Nancy said in that feminine rasp which suited her, dressed as she was but Randy found annoying when Nancy was wearing prison fatigues.

Randy closed the door and it dawned on him that he had thought of Nancy as Her. Nancy had gotten to her feet and Randy was stunned by her appearance. There was still a hint of Nathan about her but you had to look hard to see it. Her diminutive frame looked almost statuesque dressed in a red satin evening dress split up one side to display her long shapely legs clad in sheer nylon stockings, her feet shod in red high heels to match the dress. She had done something with her blonde locks so that they fell to her shoulders and swept across her face which was stunningly accentuated with cosmetics.

Nancy approached him and he inhaled her perfume; she had gone all-out to portray Judy Valentine. He’d seen Nancy on stage of course from a distance but was stunned by how beautiful she was up close. He could understand why some of the inmates had hit on her and why Desmond wanted her for his prison wife. She was not perfect by any means but she was as close to being a woman as anybody he had seen for over a year.

“To the victor go the spoils,” Nancy echoed the words of Tony Truveen.

“That hack Captain said those exact words to me not that long ago,” Randy recovered his composure and remained aloof when Nancy stopped inches away from him.

“Who do you think said it to him? I suggested that Tony elevate you to the vacancy left by Desmond rather than have his goons beat you up and sent to the hole at Lorton,” Nancy sucked on a finger seductively

Lorton Reformatory was the main prison for the District of Columbia and was known as a place where only the strong survived. The maximum-security wing was home to a lockdown unit nicknamed the House of Pain.

“I don’t want the spoils and why are you dressed like that? I thought you hated the idea of becoming a prison wife,” Randy said angrily.

“I told you that I didn’t want to become Desmond Rutter’s prison wife. You, on the other hand… You have intrigued me ever since you first arrived at Roanoke River but I knew that you would have no interest in Nathan but maybe Nancy might tickle your fancy, pardon the pun. Besides, I owe you for saving me from a fate worst the death,” Nancy put the back of her hand to her forehead and swooned dramatically, sarcastically imitating Judy in a scene from the play.

“No thank you,” Randy growled but Nancy could tell that Randy was equivocating.

She swooped in and kissed Randy full on the mouth and pressed herself against him. It happened so fast that Randy was slow to react and Nancy crushed her lips against his and thrust her tongue into his mouth. Her body was moulded to his and she rubbed against him like a cat marking her territory. She was wearing perfume and the smell of her, the feel of her and her demeanour was overwhelmingly feminine and for a few seconds Randy forgot where he was and who Nancy was. His body reacted accordingly and he became instantly hard.

Then Randy had a crisis of conscience. He hadn’t put Desmond Rutter in hospital so that he could steal his prison wife or take over his empire, he had done it because he hated Desmond for being a bully. Also, despite how alluring Nancy presented herself, he knew that underneath the hair, makeup, body-hugging dress, nylons and heels there was a man.

Randy disentangled himself from Nancy’s embrace and held her at arm’s length as he caught his breath.

“Don’t go all holier than thou on me Randall, I know you liked it,” Nancy glared pointedly at the bulge in Randy’s crotch.

“I’m not that guy Nancy. Look honey, I can see why Desmond was smitten with you and why some of the others have hit on you. If I didn’t know who you were I’d swear that you were a beautiful, sexy lady but I do know and I can’t get past that,” Randy admitted.

“Then you might as well have left me to Desmond. If you don’t take up with me, how long do you think it will be until some other thug forces me to be his bitch,” Nancy smiled ruefully at Randy.

“I can offer you protection,” Randy countered.

“In here! Twenty-four seven? I don’t think so. Captain Truveen has already told me that if you don’t want me he’ll put me in a single cell and force me to turn tricks. Let’s face it. Ever since I was stupid enough to present myself as Judy Valentine my card was marked,” Nancy’s smile disappeared and she started to cry.

Randy was unsure if Nancy was being honest with him or playing him. Randy hadn’t had sex for over a year and masturbation was never as good as the real thing. Nancy was undoubtedly feminine, beautiful and sexy and if he put aside what he knew about her he would undoubtedly make a move on her if she was a real woman.

Nancy could see the conflict on Randy’s face. She could tell that he wanted her and she sensed that all he needed was a little push.

She came at him again and this time Randy didn’t push her away. When she kissed him he kissed her back, driving his tongue into her mouth, his hands went straight to her ass and he squeezed her buttocks and pressed his cock against her.

Something clicked in Randy’s subconscious. The term, to the victor go the spoils, resonated in his brain. Despite his reticence he had inherited Desmond Rutter’s dominion and was the prison kingpin. He had no choice in the matter so why not take all the spoils?

“Ok Nancy, you want it so bad, here it is,” Randy growled.

He spun Nancy around and bent her over. The diminutive crossdresser had no chance of fighting Randy off even if she wanted to and in any case, she didn’t want to. She was already semi-erect and when Randy hiked up her dress to expose her luscious buttocks clad in her pink transparent nylon panties she became fully tumescent.

Randy yanked aside the gusset of Nancy’s panties and took a few seconds to admire her perky buttocks and long shapely legs sheathed in sheer nylon stockings before he unzipped his fatigues. Nancy must have prelubricated herself somehow in anticipation of being fucked but Randy could care less as he thrust his rock hard cock between her buttocks and slammed it into Nancy’s anus.

Nancy grunted as Randy's cock stretched her sphincter and she felt filled and stretched in a very satisfying way. This was not the subtle seduction she had planned but somehow being taken like this was even better. She had broken down Randy’s defences and now she must endure the consequences but that didn’t matter when the consequences were exactly what she wanted in the first place. Randy’s cock was bigger than she estimated when she had felt it pressed against her through his prison fatigues but her anus easily expanded to take the girth. It was not the biggest cock she had ever taken but it was up there.

Nancy was not wholly committed to her feminine counterpart. Before she was arrested and sent to prison Nathan Elsher sometimes presented as Nancy and worked the streets when things were tight. He could pass quite convincingly and even invented a persona for Nancy but he had no true affinity with femininity although he did like wearing the clothes and makeup. Nancy served her purpose and if Nathan needed to become Nancy to get Randall Mitchell to fuck her she had no problem with that.

Something had changed Randy’s perspective and he was able to see Nancy solely as a woman. When his cock slid into her greased channel and he looked down and saw those creamy soft buttocks pressed into his pubis and those long silken-clad legs and high heels all thoughts of Nancy’s gender became inconsequential. She looked like a woman, she smelled like a woman and she felt like a woman.

He gripped Nancy’s hips and began to fuck her and Nancy pushed back against him to meet his thrusts. This was pure lust on both their parts, the tender lovemaking could come later. For now it was raw animal sex.

Nancy’s sphincter had loosened and her anus dilated and she was now able to accommodate Randy's hard cock quite comfortably. The initial pain as Randy slammed his cock into her anus had turned almost instantly to pleasure which was deep and satisfying and illicit and Nancy was thoroughly enjoying what was happening to her. It was almost like a prison rape fantasy but unlike what had happened to Ethan in the showers now and then, Nancy had elicited this charade and was enjoying every second of it. Little sparklets of delight radiated from her sphincter and deep mellow waves of pleasure were emanating from her anus and her prostate.

Randy was getting close to extremis as his throbbing cock slid in and out of Nancy’s slick hole. It was tight, spongy, warm and inviting and Nancy was doing something with her anal sheath that felt like it was undulating, almost as if she was trying to express his seed from his rampant organ.

Waves of intense delight radiated from Nancy's anus, her panties were tented and soaked with her precum and she squirmed and moaned like a whore as pleasure raged through her body. She could sense that Randy was close as his thrusting became quicker and harder. Thwok, thwok, thwok sounds as Randy’s pubis slammed against her buttocks resonated around the cell. Nancy rubbed her bloated penis through her panties, stroking it furiously, intent on climaxing at the same time as Randy. Her heels skittered on the concrete floor and if Randy hadn’t been gripping her hips and impaling her on his mighty phallus she would have collapsed.

Randy pulled her tight and drove his cock deep inside Nancy’s rectum and inseminated her. She felt the hot gush of his spend filling her stretched keister, his cock palpitating as he ejaculated deep inside her tight anus. It triggered her orgasm and her cock quivered and she filled her panties with her issue as rubbed it frenziedly. The intense satisfaction burgeoning from her genitals amalgamated with the deep undulations of intense pleasure stemming from her anus.

Randy held her tight and Nancy moaned like a slattern as their climaxes peaked and began to slowly subside. The last of Randy’s semen dribbled from his cock as he held Nancy’s hips, her buttocks compressed against his groin. He could tell that she had climaxed although he had no intention of confirming that by touching her sodden panties. It would be a while before Randy became comfortable touching Nancy’s genitals.

Randy realised the enormity of what he had done. There was no going back. He was the prison kingpin and had taken himself a prison wife. Randy pulled his deflating penis from Nancy’s ass and his semen ran down between her legs and soaked her nylons. She giggled like a girl.

“That wasn’t so bad was it?” Nancy stepped out of her cumsoaked panties and kicked them away.

She opened her handbag and took out another pair and perched her ass on the bed and put her feet through the legholes, standing up and leaning against Randy with one hand while she pulled them up tight around her ass. To his surprise Randy didn’t feel in anyway repelled by her familiarity in fact he was wondering what it might be like to lie Nancy down on the bed and get her to open her legs so he could climb on her and feel those long legs wrapped around him and those sweet lips on his mouth while fucked her.

He saw a bottle of contraband whiskey left brazenly out in the open on a silver tray on top of a lowboy and as walked over to it and poured two generous serves into two glasses and he realised that he could quite easily get used to privileges that came with his new position.

An hour later he found exactly what it was like lying on top of Nancy with his cock buried in her ass while she writhed beneath him, scissoring her legs against his flanks and her tongue writhing in his mouth.

The next morning Randy awoke to find Nancy dressed with her high heels dangling from her fingers.

“Here’s the deal. You show me how things work and handle the day to day running of the business. I’ll keep those members of Desmond’s gang that I trust and recruit a few new guys for muscle. You distribute the profits and handle the payoffs and I’ll handle everything else,” Randy said gruffly.

“Done,” Nancy leaned against the doorjamb ready to leave.

“This thing we have going. That’s separate. I don’t want to discuss sex with Nathan. In the evenings you come to my cell as Nancy and you stay as Nancy. We don’t discuss business or anything else related to the prison while you are here; it’s our little fantasy world,” Randy continued.

“Of course,” Nancy smiled at him; the arrangement suited her too.

“And one more thing. Neither Nathan or Nancy goes with anyone else while we have this arrangement, I don’t want to catch a venereal disease,” Randy sat up and reached for his cigarettes.

Nancy padded across the cell floor and leaned over Randy and kissed him.

“Why would I want anyone else in here when I have you,” she whispered.

Nancy took the package of cigarettes from Randy and put two in her mouth and lit them. She put one between Randy’s lips and turned away and left the cell, quietly closing the door behind her.

Randy lay back and smoked. This could all have been a dream. He never imagined that anything like this would happen to him and he never for a second believed that he could be so taken by a woman like Nancy. Except for the lipstick she had left on the filter of his cigarette she could be a chimera he had created to satisfy his primal urges.

For the remainder of his stay at the Roanoke River Correctional Facility Randy lived a life that most prisoners could only dream of. With Nancy’s help he ran the prison’s underground economy: the bootlegging, gambling, and the protection rackets and he had a finger in every pie of the legitimate businesses such as hairdressing, the workshops and paid prison labour. It was he who made the recommendations to Captain Truveen as to who was to be assigned to the which work details.

Under Randy’s regime the prison was a better place and there was less violence. Randy was the arbiter regarding inmate disputes and his word was final. He didn’t tolerate standover merchants or thugs. Everyone was happy with the new arrangements especially Captain Truveen and the Warden who were making a healthy side income from the prison economy both legitimate and illegitimate.

Randy’s relationship with Nancy Elsher was strange but somehow it worked. During the day Nathan Elsher was his righthand man, business manager and confidant. At night Nancy Elsher was his lover, although what they had wasn’t love. It was companionship and sex and an escape from the drudgery of prison into a fantasy world. Randy thought of Nathan and Nancy as two separate entities. Sometimes Randy saw a little of Nathan in Nancy and when that happened he felt pangs of guilt but they soon dissipated when Nancy used her skills on him.

Nancy expanded her wardrobe and made herself look as feminine and alluring as possible for Randy, who she adored but didn’t ‘love’ in the true sense. Randy was kind, affectionate, caring and a good lover but Nancy knew that their relationship was only going to last as long as Randy’s sentence. As Randy’s release date approached Randy was already in negotiation with Tony Traveen as to who would inherit his prison empire and he had given the nod to Wendell Coulter who was Randy’s deputy who had promised to run things the same as Randy had when Randy was released.

Nancy began to flirt with Wendell to test the water and found him receptive. They agreed that Nancy would become Wendell’s prison wife when Randy’s time was up and the day Randy was released she was waiting for Wendell in the luxuriously appointed cell, ready to perform the same duties both in and out of bed.

Randy walked out of Roanoke River Correctional Facility a free man but not much better off than when he went inside. The power and privileges he had enjoyed over the last year were gone and the money he had accumulated had been spent. His brother Dexter was waiting for him, leaning on the hood of the newly released Ford Thunderbird bought with the proceeds of Randy’s prison escapades.

Randy had told no one outside about his dalliance with Nancy and had no intention of telling Dexter. They hopped into the car and drove to a honkytonk to celebrate Randy’s release and soon after their arrival Randy was pounding one of hostesses into the mattress.

Over the next two years the Mitchell brothers pulled off a number of carefully planned armed robberies and until the septuagenarian security guard at Broughton Savings & Loan unloaded his scattergun at Dexter, the robberies were very successful with no casualties.

Now Randall Mitchell found himself in the company of a stunningly beautiful transvestite, alone in a cabin in the woods. Until today he hadn’t thought much about Nancy Elsher since leaving prison.

The Cabin – Poor Mountain Virginia – 1957

“So you see, I am not unacquainted with women like you Ashley,” Randy leaned back into the couch and waited for Ashley to respond.

“That’s an amazing story Randy,” Ashley was surprised by Randy’s openness and honesty.

“Nancy was quite adept at presenting herself as a woman but her heart wasn’t in it. She became a prison wife and crossdressed as a means of survival but she wasn’t committed to it. She was a gay man pretending to be a woman only for the benefits and comforts that came with it. There is no doubt that since Nathan left prison he no longer presents himself as Nancy,” Randy opined.

“You on the other hand are fully committed. Your grace, elegance, beauty and femininity seem to come naturally rather than being a masquerade,” Randy leaned forward and poured them both another drink, they had both sobered up a little during the telling of Randy’s tale.

“Jeeze Louise, we could walk along main street arm in arm and no one would know,” Randy grinned at her.

“You know what? I wouldn’t mind that at all. I’ve often fantasised about being out openly in public but after what happened to me in France after the war I swore to myself that Ashley Bellamy would only ever present herself in private and alone,” Ashley blushed and took a sip of her drink.

She then went on to tell Randy about how Ashley came into being and of the shame and guilt she felt when she returned to the USA from France and discharged from the army and how Ashley had risen like a phoenix from the ashes after Ashton divorced Jeannie.

“I’m going to make you the same offer I made Nancy. While I’m here I will respect your wishes and will only ever treat you like the woman you are. I never want to see or hear about Ashton. To me you are, and always will be, Ashley,” Randy had taken Ashley’s hands in his and was staring into her glacial green eyes which were rimmed by tears.

Ashley leaned in and kissed him, feeling something that she had never thought she would feel; genuine affection for a man.

Randy returned the kiss and then he helped Ashley to her feet and led her to the bedroom where they kissed again beside the bed, neither of them in a rush. Ashley took off her jacket and threw it on the bed. Randy was still naked under the robe, his cock standing to attention but she didn’t touch it, suspending her intense desire to take him in her hand again and feel the virility of his beautiful penis. Randy slowly unbuttoned Ashley’s blouse and removed her brassiere. Ashley was self-conscious about her tiny titties but Randy put his mouth to them and suckled the nipples, sending tingles of delight through Ashley’s body.

Randy unzipped Ashley’s skirt and she shimmied out of it and it pooled around her feet. She kicked it away and stood before him dressed only in her black satin and lace waist-cincher, panties, nylons and heels. The suspenders hanging from the cincher were clipped to the gauzy welts of her stocking and Ashley shuddered when Randy extended a hand and stroked her thighs, caressing her stocking-tops, fiddling with the garter clips and then fondling the soft pale skin above her stockings.

Ashley stood perfectly still, allowing Randy to explore her body. When his fingers slid between her legs and stroked the burgeoning erection laying along her perineum, held in place by her tight satin panties she gasped. She hadn’t been touched there by a man for so long she had forgotten what it felt like. Randy freed her penis from its prison and let it spring free so that it tented the front of her panties then he wrapped his fingers around the bloated appendage and began to softly stroke it through the gossamer panty material.

Ashley gasped again and her knees began to shake and Randy pulled her into his arms and kissed her with unabashed ardour. She reached for his organ and stroked it, reciprocating the gesture and they both moaned into each other’s mouths. They kissed and stroked each other’s organs, bringing each other close to extremis and then backing off their ministrations. Ashley hadn’t had sexual congress for so long she couldn’t wait much longer and eased herself out of the embrace and led Randy to the bed and pushed gently on his shoulders, indicating he should lie down. She opened his robe so that she could see his turgid erection.

Ashley straddled his body and kissed him and then her mouth began a slow sensual journey along his body. She nuzzled his neck for a while and then she lowered her mouth to the hollow of his clavicle, circling the tip of her tongue there for a while and then continued downward, kissing, nipping and lapping his flesh.

It had been ten years since Ashley had been intimate with a man but the skills she had learned in Paris had not deserted her. Randy was gasping and moaning as Ashley teased him, his hands resting lightly on her head but she could sense that he was becoming impatient and wanted to guide her head down to his groin. She smiled salaciously, determined to make him wait a little before she gave him release. She was overjoyed that Randy appreciated her carnal skills, his reaction reinforced her feminine prowess.

She took his tiny nipple in her mouth and suckled it and heard him gasp as she tweaked the other nipple between her thumb and forefinger.

"Oh god!" Randy groaned.

Her hand slinked across his hard belly, she raked her fingernails along his flesh softly, circled his bellybutton and then her fingers caressed the crease where his legs met his torso. She was careful not touch his penis even though she was aware that it was painfully turgid and Randy was desperate for release. She kissed him deeply before she returned back to her ministrations.

“Not long now honey. I’ll soon let you climax but there is no rush is there?” Ashley smiled sweetly at him.

“Oh god Ashley, you are an enchantress,” Randy gasped.

As much as he wanted to orgasm, Randy was overwhelmed by Ashley’s beguiling manipulations. He wanted her to stop teasing him and take his organ in her hand or mouth and make him come but at the same time he wanted her to prolong the exquisite agony.

She kissed him again and then she glanced down his body do that she could see the results of her endeavours.

His long thick appendage was standing upright looking angry and ready to erupt. Ashley marvelled at the turgidity, the girth, and the length of Randy's cock. She stroked it gently and kissed him softly while she did so. His breathing became heavy and ragged and his penis pulsed and quivered in her delicate hand. She trailed her fingertips along the bloated shaft and circled the fraenulum feeling Randy's heartbeat begin to pound in his chest as she broke the kiss and her mouth journeyed down his body, stopping to suckle his nipples and lap at his belly button until she stopped with her head in his groin.

She stared at the appendage, standing proud and upright from his pubis. A bead of dewy precum had formed at the eye and she lapped at it with her tongue, savouring the sweet nectar before she swallowed it. Randy rested his hands on her head, pushing gently, encouraging her to fellate him. Her hair cascaded around his groin and tickled his thighs and scrotum. He could no longer see what she was doing with her lips but he could feel it well enough and when Ashley took him in her mouth he issued a contented sigh. She was finally performing the act he desperately wanted her to.

Ashley took him in her mouth and worked her lips up and down the veiny shaft while her tongue coddled his glans. She lashed the underside of the bulbous pink protrusion with the tip of her tongue and Randy groaned and entwined his fingers in her hair. He swept the bangs from her face so that he could watch her as her beautiful face bobbed up and down, suckling his manhood, swallowing the continuous flow of pre-ejaculate that dribbled from the eye of his cock.

Ashley cupped his scrotum and caressed the sensitive sac with her fingertips while she steadily fellated him, drawing her lips along the silky flesh of his rod, tracing the pulsing veins with her tongue and then lashing it across the spongy flange that was his glans. Ashley sensed the urgency begin to build as Randy began to ease her face up and down on his cock, his groin lifting up off the bed as he fucked her mouth. He thrust his cock between her lips faster and harder and Ashley obligingly accommodated his turgid flesh and lashed it with her tongue.

"Oh sweetheart!" Randy cried out as Ashley felt his scrotum contract and his cock begin to shudder.

Ashley sensed Randy’s climax approaching and she pinned him to bed and worked her mouth up and down on his bloated rod and suckled it harder and faster while she gently squeezed his scrotum and Randy erupted in her mouth. She slavered his quivering flesh as her mouth filled with the musky viscous fluid that spewed forth from the eye. She lapped at the milky essences, swallowing his offering while her head continued to bob up and down on his disgorging phallus. Randy held her face still as the sensation became overwhelming and he jettisoned his seed. Ashley's mouth was filled to overflowing and she swallowed his creamy issue, savouring the taste and texture that she long forgotten tasted so delectable.

She let Randy’s cock fall from her mouth once she had drained it. His cock didn’t fully contract and remained semihard as she made the journey back his body, stopping along the way to lick and playfully nip his sensitive nipples.

“Wow! That was wonderful,” Randy pulled her close to him and she wrapped her body around him.

They kissed and Randy could feel Ashley’s hard cock pressing against him and sensed that she too needed relief. She shimmied her stocking-sheathed legs along his body and lightly scoured her fingernails across his chest as she clasped her lips against his and drove her tongue into his mouth making no pretence of the fact that she wanted more sex. She reached for Randy’s cock and stroked it back to full tumescence.

Randy took the hint and rolled Ashley onto her back and she reached out and desperately scrabbled at the nightstand beside the bed until she was able to open the drawer and lay her hands on the tube of lubricant. The dildo she used to pleasure herself was also in the drawer but it was barely five inches long and slender. She only used it judiciously when she needed to feel that sensation that only anal penetration could provide and she always felt a little guilty afterwards because when she used it she invariably summons visions of being fucked by either Bob or Dan at Dominque’s squalid apartment in Paris .

She squeezed a dollop of the viscous salve on her fingers and basted Randy’s phallus with it, spreading the remainder around her sphincter. She felt like a whore for doing so but the need for gratification far outweighed her guilt. She felt even more slatternlike as she jammed a pillow under her buttocks and opened her legs. Randy watched her with burning lust, ready to pounce on the pretty woman who so lasciviously lay on the bed in a pose of acceptance and wantonness.

She yelped when Randy pushed his glans into the spongy furrow of her sphincter. It hurt a little as her tight bud opened to allow Randy's engorged phallus to enter her. She clung to him, her face screwed up in pain, gasping and mewing.

"It’s been a while. Go slow honey," Ashley whispered.

Randy kissed the tip of her nose and her fluttering eyelashes. She guided his mouth to hers; she wanted to feel his lips, she wanted to feel his tongue and to taste him. She put her arms around his neck and locked her legs around his, clinging to him, impaled on his cock, just the tip of it inside her, burning her like a red-hot poker.

They lay like that until the pain slowly became something else; a deep sensuous pleasurable sensation that Ashley remembered she liked above all else. Her sphincter relaxed and she wanted more of Randy inside her and Ashley raised her buttocks off the bed and slid more of his cock inside her.

She winced as his bloated manhood stretched her sphincter and distended her anus but the pain soon dissipated and that lovely deep delightful feeling returned and intensified.

Randy kissed her passionately and Ashley returned his kisses. Her cock was tenting her panties and Randy could feel it pressing on his belly. He slowly pushed the rest of his engorged member inside Ashley until his scrotum rested against her pantied buttocks. Ashley squirmed beneath him, acclimatising herself to his cock.

She lifted her legs higher, clamping them around his waist and pressed her cock against his hard belly and Randy began to fuck her. Ashley realised how much she had missed being fucked like this as Randy's big, bloated penis filled her anus, stretching her sphincter and making it tingle, pressing on her prostate and wrenching delightful rings of pure pleasure from the sensitive gland. Her cock was dribbling pre-ejaculate, saturating the front of her panties and Randy could feel it on his belly.

Randy took his time, slowly sliding his cock in and out of Ashley’s almost virgin anus watching her face light up with delight and wonder as he made love to her. Ashley responded to his ministrations, raising her buttocks off the bed to meet him. The pleasure intensified and magnified the delight that came from deep inside her radiated up into her throbbing penis. She ground her satin swathed appendage against Randy’s belly, aching for release and Randy sensed her ardour and began to quicken the pace, fucking her harder and faster as Ashley’s eyes screwed closed and she began to moan and gyrate underneath him.

Her anus was tight and slick, her stocking-sheathed legs shimmied against his flanks and her heels dug into his back, encouraging him, driving him on. Although he had only recently climaxed he felt his scrotum contract and his testes roil as another orgasm began to build. He was a hair trigger away from orgasm.

“Now!” Ashley yelped and pulled Randy’s face to hers and kissed him deeply as she writhed and wriggled under him.

Her breathing was ragged and her limbs scoured Randy’s body, her buttocks raised high off the bed, meeting his thrusts, her anal sheath undulated, milking Randy’s cock, almost wrenching his orgasm from him.

He gave Ashley his seed. She felt his penis resonate and quiver as he drove it all the way inside her and ground his pubis against her soft buttocks, she sighed as she surrendered herself to the man who was her captor but was also her lover. Her whole body shook as she climaxed, she flooded her panties, her scalding semen saturating the satin delicates.

Randy felt Ashley orgasm under him and he kissed her and pinned her beneath him as he drove his cock all the way inside her tight rectum. He felt her anus undulate again as she syphoned his spend from his juddering manhood as her cock quivered in her panties, pressed against his hard belly. Randy pressed his belly against her cock so that it intensified her pleasure and amplified the beatific waves of delight radiating from her sphincter and her prostate.

Ashley whimpered and mewed as her climax slowly diffused but the pleasant feeling of fullness in her anus and the tingling in her sphincter was not extinguished. Randy left his cock inside her as the last of his spend dribbled from it. His frenetic kisses become softer, tender and he stroked her cheek and whispered endearments. He made no move to climb off her and she didn't want him to.

“Wow! I’d forgotten what that was like but to be honest, I don’t think it was ever that good,” Ashley smiled up at Randy and he smoothed the hair out of her eyes.

“Now you're just trying to make me feel better about myself but I have to admit it was never that good with Nancy. There was something there that I don’t think I have ever felt before,” Randy kissed the tip of Ashley’s nose affectionately.

“Now… what are we going to do about sleeping arrangements?” Randy chuckled.

Ashley tightened her legs around his torso.

“You're going nowhere and as soon as you're able, you're going to do that to me again,” Ashley giggled.

“Who says I want to?” Randy teased.

“You want to,” Ashley kissed him softly but it soon became passionate and needy.

The next morning Randy came out of the bedroom and found Ashley already dressed in a skirt, light blouse, nylons, heels and full makeup. She’d deliberately gotten up ahead of Randy, performed the necessary ablutions, taken a birdbath and dressed, keeping her promise that Randy would only ever see her as a woman. She had stacks of bills taken from the robbery arranged on the table.

“You hit the bank right after their weekly armoured car delivery didn’t you?” Ashley said with no preamble.

“I bet you had someone inside who let you know when the delivery was due,” Ashley raised her brows and Randy blushed, thinking briefly of Darleen Coulter.

“So?” Randy came over and nuzzled Ashely’s neck.

“These notes are numbered sequentially. They are going to be easy to trace if you start spending them. Law enforcement will send a list of banknote numbers to every business in Virgina and the adjoining states,” she explained.

“Yeah. I’ll have to sit on it or find someone to launder it,” Randy let go of Ashley and went to the stove and picked up the coffee pot.

“I can do that for you. My job is in finance and I’m in charge of investments and I handle large sums of money that fat cats want to hide from the Internal Revenue Service,” Ashley smiled at Randy who smiled back.

Randy put down his cup of coffee and looked at Ashley.

“Let’s go back to bed and discuss this further,” he took her in his arms and kissed her.

It was decided that they needed a week for the heat from the robbery to cool off before Randy could come out of hiding and then they decided it would be two weeks and finally they stayed in the cabin for a month.

At the end of the first week they took Ashley’s pickup into town to get more fuel for the generator. Ashley used a payphone to tell her boss that Ashton wouldn’t be back at work for a while due to a family emergency. It was the first time Ashley had been out and about since Paris and she revelled in the freedom whilst Randy was able to lift a set of plates for this Thunderbird off a wreck out back of the town’s only service station and repair shop.

After a month together something besides just lust and friendship developed between them. Neither of them was yet ready to call it love but they devised a way to be together as a couple for the foreseeable future. Randy contacted a forger he had met in prison and for a price the forger was able to change Ashton’s identity documents and professional credentials to reflect that of a woman named Ashley Bellamy and forged identity documents for Randy in the name of Randall Bellamy because Randall Mitchell was a wanted man. They both saw the irony in Randy adopting Ashley’s surname.

Ashley quit her job and sold up and they set up house in a nice apartment in New York and Ashley found a doctor who was willing to provide her with female hormones and her feminisation therapy began to show promise. She grew out her hair and was able to stop shaving entirely and began to sprout budding breasts and her body fat redistributed itself leading to a more feminine body shape which increased the size of her hips, thighs and buttocks. Ashley’s generous new curves filled out her business skirtsuits nicely and Randy could hardly keep his hands off her when they were alone.

Randy retired from the world of violent crime and he and Ashley set up a money laundering business which they ran out of a legitimate shopfront offering short term loans. Randy reached out to his contacts in the criminal underworld and offered their services. For a fee they would launder ill-gotten gains and hide profits for people from the Internal Revenue Service. Word of mouth soon had their business flourishing.

They both decided that it was best to let Dexter serve his time in prison without visiting him. They had plenty of time to decide whether or not they would make contact with him when he was released from prison and they still had the cabin in the forest near Poor Mountain if they wanted to get away for week or two just to be alone.

They were staying at the cabin when one evening and in the afterglow of a tender and affectionate lovemaking session, they looked deeply into each other’s eyes and simultaneously whispered the words: “I love you”.

The End