'Can I bring you anything, madam?'
'Not yet, thank you. I'm waiting for my son.'
'They're always late, aren't they?'
Two middle-aged women sympathising over the dilatoriness of their offspring.
She moved away to serve a couple at a table by the window.
A moment later there he was striding across the restaurant towards me with his big smile and the athletic spring in his step.
'Sorry, I'm late, Chrissie.' He kissed me on the cheek and plonked himself down.
I smiled back at him and wondered afresh how his mother and I could have produced such a magnificent piece of manhood. She and I are both about five feet six and slightly built though we were thickening out now at fifty-two years old. And, somehow, we made between us this six- feet- eight, magnificently muscled hunk with his broad shoulders and his heavy-weight boxer's chest.
I should explain. I always knew that I was more woman than man but I met Vera at university and we thought we could make a go of marriage. She knew that I was attracted to men but we loved each other and we believed that would be enough. It wasn't. We had two very happy years, during which Brian was born, and then I started to feel alienated from myself. I was faithful to my wife but at such a cost. I had what I now realise was a series of mini-breakdowns and then, soon after Brian went to university, a big one. I was hospitalised for three months. When I was discharged I saw that Brian had held us together as a family and his absence removed the glue. Vera and I decided on a separation and that I should try to live as a woman. Unlike a number of sisters I have met since those days, I had no desire to lose my male genitalia and I didn't go for surgery though I did take female hormones.
Vera and I were still fond of each other and wanted the best for each other so I agreed to a divorce when she met a man and fell in love. The day she married Guy I felt lonelier than I have ever felt in my life. The fact that Brian still loved me, his dad, was all that kept me alive, but, of course, he had his own life to lead. He had left university with a very good degree and was now working in the city and heading up the greasy pole of financial services, whilst being paid what seemed to me, for a thirty- year old, an almost obscene amount of money. However, it meant that he could well afford to take his old dad out for the odd meal.
'I've really come to apologise,' he said. 'I'm in the middle of a tricky deal and I've only a minute. Can I make it up to you by taking you out for a special meal tomorrow night?'
I grimaced and said, 'Go on with you. Make a ridiculous amount of money and you can buy me champagne.'
'Thank you, darling,' he said, jumped up and kissed me again on the cheek. 'Wear something spectacular.' And he was gone.
The waitress came over again.
I said, 'I'd better order for myself.'
She smiled and said, 'Mine's the same. Who'd be a mother?'
I left it at that.
...
The following night I did as Brian directed and made a special effort. Clearly the evening mattered to him and I found myself praying that he wasn't going to tell me that he had fallen in love and was about to marry. Then I told myself I was being selfish and that if he had found a nice girl or, for that matter, a nice boy I should be glad for him, but I wasn't. He meant far too much to me and I could feel the sense of loss which would be my lot when he did marry. However, I decided to put a good face on it. His happiness was the most important thing, I told myself. He was my son.
I enjoy the ritual of preparing my female self. I love bathing and shaving, making my clitie cock and balls entirely hairless, shaving the few hairs which grow near my nipples and at the top of my thighs so that I am as smooth as silk; I revel in moisturising and perfuming myself, choosing my panties and bra, my stockings and my garter belt, doing my hair, my makeup and my nails.
I chose a burgundy-coloured, full length dress with floaty, diaphanous sleeves. I decided to wear the most valuable jewels I possess, a pair of pendant diamond and ruby earrings which Brian had given me for my last birthday. Though I say it myself, when Brian called for me at 8 o'clock, I looked pretty good.
When I opened the door he stepped back and whistled.
'My god, Chrissie,' he said, 'Every other man in the room will be salivating over you and I can't blame them. You look terrific.'