The Blue Neclace

Not so much a sex story as a love story with sexy bits and, indeed, if you don't get off on the whole transgender thing then maybe this story is not for you.

Oh, and this is chapter five. If you haven't already read chapters one to four I urge you to do so

******

It was the crack of dawn when my mobile went off. Sleepily I pushed my hair away from my face, rolled over and answered it.

"Hello?"

"Good morning. This is your wake up call. It's nearly shopping time."

"Good grief, Jen, what time is it."

"Just gone seven thirty."

"Seven thirty! Do you know what time I got in last night?"

"No, but I expect you to tell me all about it over breakfast. I seem to remember that Tom was quite a competent cook. Why don't I come round and you can make us both a full English before we hit the shops."

"A full English? I'm not sure that I can stretch to that but I can do you a bacon barm or something similar."

"Great. I'll see you in half an hour. Bye!"

Half an hour! I hadn't meant for her to come so soon. I jumped out of bed and rushed to the bathroom. The ravages of last night were all too plain upon me and I desperately needed a shower. I turned on the taps and jumped in.

As it was I had barely enough time to get clean, towel dry my hair and put on the blue dress before the front door bell rang and Jenny arrived. I led her through to the kitchen and started in on breakfast.

"Do I gather it was Tiffany I woke up this morning? It didn't sound like Tom."

"It was."

"So you sleep as Tiffany."

"I'd spend my whole life as Tiffany if I could. Obviously there are some things I can't do as her. Go to work, for example, or drive, because I don't have the paperwork but, otherwise... I just find I'm more comfortable as her. Andy and I went out last night which goes part way to explaining why I'm such a mess this morning."

"Where did you go?"

"To the student union bar. They had The Blackout on and they're one of my favourite bands. We had a ball."

"What did you wear?"

"The tartan mini and the pink sweatshirt. Not exactly perfect but better than nothing and I wasn't going to miss the gig."

"So, why didn't you go as Tom?"

"Andy wouldn't let me. He said that either I went as Tiffany or my ticket would go to Jane Parkinson instead. OK, maybe I didn't need that much persuasion but I was kinda forced."

"And by the looks of things you bought yourself a bra."

"I had to. If you go to see The Blackout then you're going to dance and dancing without a bra is a bit of a no-no. Apart from the discomfort I've found how much going braless sends off the wrong messages. Andy seems to have spent most of the past week staring at my chest. Talk of the devil..."

"Morning, Tiff. Morning, Jenny. Long time no see." Andy came over to the stove to look at what I was doing.

"Hi Andy. Tiff's been telling me about how you've been ogling her all week."

"Oi, Jenny, it's not like that! Tiff, tell her that's unfair!"

"He's been fine," I said as I tended to the bacon. "OK, he does ogle a bit but he's been really supportive."

"Make sure you stay that way."

"God, Jenny, give a guy a break, will you. Sexual harassment charges are a bit much before breakfast."

"He's been just fine," I repeated firmly as I surprised us all by turning from the stove and giving Andy a quick peck on the cheek. "Now sit down. Coffee and bacon barms are on their way."

"So, are you two hitting the shops," Andy asked as we sat together munching our barm cakes and drinking our coffee.

"That's the idea. Why, do you want to come with us?"

"I can think of nothing worse than going girly clothes shopping in town on a Saturday with two women. No way, no way at all."

"In which case you can do the washing up. Just because Tiff's a girl doesn't mean she has to wait on you hand and foot."

"OK, OK. I see you're still on that feminist bollocks."

"It's not bollocks and you know it, or at least you would if you weren't still the biggest male chauvinist pig in the sty. If you had your way poor Tiff here would be chained to the sink."

"That's not the only place I'd chain her.... oi! Stop! I was only joking!"

"Not funny, buster, not funny at all."

I smiled as I watched Jen and Andy squabbling. The thing was, each appealed to a different half of me. I admired Jen, I wanted to be a strong independent woman who knew her own mind and wasn't at some bloke's beck and call. But there was something else I wanted. There was that feeling when Andy wrapped his arms about me, when I felt cared for, pampered, loved. And, anyway, I liked looking after him.

After breakfast Jen came and joined me in my bedroom as I tried to sort out my hair. I'd purchased a hair brush but had yet to acquire a hair dryer and there was no way it was going to be dry in time to go to the shops. Jen advised me to try a pony tail and I discovered the wonders of 'scrunchies' after she lent me one that she had fished out from the bottom of her bag. With my hair now under control I put on some make up, not much, just the lightest touch of eye-shadow and a smidgen of lipstick. I was far from practiced but I wanted to try to do this properly. Once I had the war paint on it was time to go and we went down to the street where Jen had parked her Honda Civic.

"Your Andy, still as MCP as ever," Jenny joked as she drove us both down to the mall.

"He's a good man. Anyway, he's not 'my' Andy."

"Really. You two look pretty smitten with each other."

"We're just good friends. OK, there's no need to look at me like that but, think about it, Tom and Andy have been best mates since forever and, now that Tom has become Tiffany it doesn't stop us being friends. I know he's a bit old fashioned but he's really looked after me."

"As long as he gets a shag at the end of it?"

"And that's where you're wrong. Oh, he makes no secret that he fancies me like crazy but he's never laid a finger on me, well, not seriously."

"And what about you? Do you fancy him like crazy?"

"That's the hard bit. I mean, Tom, he never, ever, thought about Andy in that way. I know you think I'm in denial but when I was Tom I wasn't gay, really I wasn't, and the thought of us doing anything together... ugh! Tiffany, on the other hand.... well, I'm starting to look at Andy in different ways and he is pretty good looking and, yes, I do find him sexy but... Oh, Jen, I don't know what I think."

"You do realise you talk about Tom in the past tense, don't you?"

We drove on in silence as I digested this. I knew that I wasn't completely Tiffany, not by a long chalk. I still had to be Tom when I went to work and all my official papers were in Tom's name. What's more, what would my parent's think if Tom just disappeared off the face of the earth and this strange girl appeared in his place. No, Tom was always going to be part of my life and a very big one. On the other hand, as Jen had pointed out, I did rather see Tom as the past, not the future.

This time the mall could not have been more different. For starters I was properly dressed and I was also far more used to being out in public. It also helped that Jen was next to me. Andy is all very well but, for a shopping trip, especially a clothes shopping trip, you want a girl friend.

First order of business was underwear. I already knew about sports bras, I was, after all, wearing one, but Jen explained the difference between wired and not wired, uplift and support, seamed and unseamed and the other endless compromises between support, comfort, sexiness and suitability for the clothing that went over them.

"But why would a feminist like you want an uplift bra?" I asked.

"Just because I believe in equality between the sexes that doesn't stop me from wanting to look sexy and making the best of what nature has given me. Being a feminist is about making your own choices, not being dictated to. The important thing is to look sexy because you want to, not because someone else wants you to."

And then we were on to panties. Again there was a bewildering array of styles.

"Choose what feels best. After all, most of the time, no one but you is going to see them."

"If no one is going to see them then why not wear plain white cotton all the time?"

"Is that what you want to wear?"

"No but...."

"My point exactly. Who's going to see them is completely irrelevant, well, most of the time. Women, well, this woman, likes to wear pretty or sexy undies because of the way it makes me feel, not some man who may or may not get to see them. I find a nice set of undies makes me feel better and boosts my confidence. I bought a matching set in navy blue lace for my last job interview and I'm sure it helped me feel better about myself. Part of the fun is the way that you can suit yourself. Sometimes it's a plain white cotton day, sometimes it's a frilly and lacy day, sometimes it's a day for little pink hearts and flowers and the only person you have to please is yourself. Having said that, you will want a white bra under a white blouse unless you want the world to know all about it."

We had quite a range by the time we had finished. I did, indeed, get some plain white cotton for 'those' days of the month but, apart from that, I let my imagination run wild.

And with that out of the way we set off to put together some outfits. Top of my wish list was a replacement for the blue dress. Something light and casual, something I could wear around the house, something practical. A mid-thigh shirt dress with short puffy sleeves was just the thing, especially when matched with a wide leather belt to emphasise my waist. Furthermore, as Jen pointed out, as it buttoned down the front I could show as much cleavage as seemed appropriate to my mood at the time. After that, at Jen's insistence, I tried on some jeans and discovered that, for women, they're a very different animal. Oh, sure, there were boring 'normal' jeans available but the skinny jeans in stretch denim that Jen steered me towards had the added bonus of showing off my legs and, when matched with a tight tee shirt over a seamless bra all my curves were well on display.

I also wanted a nice dress to go out in. Nothing quite as formal as an LBD but something to wear on a night out, something with a bit of pazazz. I had to try on quite a few before we finally came upon a dress with a blouse style top in an animal print which combined with a knee length pencil skirt to be smart, stylish and just the thing for a smart night out.

At this point we both needed a breather so we grabbed a quick salad and a glass of white wine as a late lunch and while we ate we talked and talked and talked. I've no idea what we talked about. It really didn't seem to matter.

And then it was back into the fray. I needed two things: tops to go with the jeans and shoes to go with everything. For the first time in my life I understood why women need so many shoes. I already had two pairs, the white trainers and the kitten heels that Jen had given me. For Tom this would have been more than enough but, for Tiffany, she needed a pair of sensible flats for everyday wear and a pair of heels for formal wear as an absolute minimum. What is more, Jen wouldn't allow me to go to Shoemarket; she insisted that I buy expensive shoes as they would last longer and be kinder on my feet.

The sensible flats were easy, well, they were until I found a pair with a sort of zebra print and just had to have them. Long story short I ended up with two pairs, one plain, one patterned. And then we were on to the heels. Again Jen was quite insistent, this time saying that, as a beginner, I shouldn't go over three inches until I had got the whole heels thing cracked. I must have tried on about every pair in the shop and, in the end, it came down to a choice between an open toed sandal and a basic court shoe, both stiletto, both in black leather. Each was perfect, each would have gone a dream with the night out dress, and each would have gone a dream with the skinny white jeans.

So I had to have them both.

Finding suitable tops was much easier. There were plenty of tee shirts in varying styles and, whereas last time the choice had overwhelmed me, this time I felt like the child in the sweetshop. So many different tops, only one life time to wear them in!

At last, foot sore and weary, and with an enormous hole blasted in my credit card, we made our way back to the flat. Andy was at full stretch with his feet up on the sofa watching Soccer Saturday and, as it was nigh on five o'clock and the final results were coming in, he didn't pay us much attention. I made us all a cup of tea and then Jen and I went through to my bedroom. It was time to unpack the bags.

I had already already made some preparations by clearing out half my wardrobe and two of my drawers so there was plenty of space to put things away. However, we weren't going to just put things away, we also needed a fashion show. While I had obviously tried all the bits and pieces on in the shop I hadn't really had time to appreciate them. In particular I wanted to try out the smart dress when combined with the open toed sandals. First things first, a lacy black bra and panties combo. You can't wear a dress like that over white cotton.

Say it myself as shouldn't, it looked a treat. Jen pointed out that, if I were wearing open toed sandals then I would need my toenails painted and offered to do them for me using a bright mauve nail varnish that we had picked up when we had been to SuperDrug to stock up. With my toenails finished she moved on to my fingernails and I felt like the Queen of Sheeba as she pampered me.

While I sat there waiting for my nails to dry Jen brushed out my hair. Because I had had to let it dry naturally in the scrunchie it was pretty tangled and it took ages to get out all the knots. I joked to Jen that a short haircut would be far lower maintenance and she replied that she would kill me if I wore it any shorter.

With my hair and nails sorted I put the shoes back on and tottered around the room. With Jen's coaching I started to get the hang of it and, while I wasn't completely graceful, I wasn't falling over either. I opened the door and went through to the lounge.

"What do you think?"

"Hang on, they're showing the Arsenal goal...," but, whether he wanted to watch or not, Andy looked up and, suddenly, the Arsenal goal was forgotten. "Wow! Tiff! You're gorgeous. I mean, you're always gorgeous but that dress...."

"Do you like it?"

"I love it. You look good enough to eat. We've got to go out!"

"What? Now?"

"I'd love to but where? Anywhere worth going will be booked solid. We'll have to make it next weekend. I'll book a table at Fracini's, you know, the posh Italian in Chapel Street, and we'll make a night of it. Jenny, maybe you and your partner would like to come as well. The four of us celebrating the full transformation. Ugly duckling to the most beautiful swan in Melchester. Hang on, let me do this properly." He got up from the sofa and came over and stood in front of me. He reached out and took my hands. "Tiffany, it would give me great pleasure if you would do me the honour of being my partner at dinner on Friday night. Please say you'd come."

"I'd love to but on one condition."

"Name it."

"You have to dress up as well. I don't want to partner a complete slob."

"You wound me to my heart, Mistress," he joked. Then he looked across at Jen. "Please, Jenny, I meant it. Would you make up a foursome. My treat."

"I'll have to check with Patrick but, personally, I'd be delighted. I have to say one thing for Tiffany."

"What's that?"

"She's managed to turn you into quite the gentleman. I look forward to seeing if you can keep it up all evening." She blushed as she realised the double entendre and we all had a little laugh.

"Seriously, guys," she continued, "I've got to be off. It's been great Tiff. We must do it again soon. And Andy, I'll call you later to confirm next Friday."

I saw her to the door.

"Thanks, Jen. I couldn't have done it without you."

"Tom was a good friend of mine. I'm not sure if even fonder of Tiffany. Good night, Tiff. Have fun."

And with that she was gone.