Misstaken Identity

A glance at myself in the mirror on the back of the closet door took my breath away. For the first time in my life, I liked what I saw...this wasn't me fooling around in my sister's clothes, this was the woman I was going to become, living in her soft skin for the rest of my life, in pretty skirts and dresses like this...I didn't want it to happen, but my body slowly surrendered to a surprise orgasm, flooding my new panties as I whimpered in ecstasy. The feelings were so sweet, and so strong, like nothing I'd ever experienced, and I just gave in to them and let myself ride a wave of intense, exquisite pleasure that went on and on and on...

Then it was over, and I lay flat on my back, staring at the ceiling. Is this what I could expect every time I got dressed in the morning? Surely not - over time, putting on women's clothing would become second nature to me, otherwise my body would wear itself out! Too bad, I thought ruefully...in truth, I hadn't had an orgasm in a long time, and a lot of pent-up testosterone just went out of me. Good thing I had plenty of panties! I lifted up my skirt, took off my sodden panties, wiped myself down with a bath towel and put on a fresh pair. This time, my penis tucked obediently between my legs, and I hoped it would behave itself - for a while.

* * *

That afternoon, I went on some errands, my first real outing as a woman. In college, I'd walked around the block a few times after dark, but I was always terrified and never encountered anyone. As a precaution in case I was stopped for some traffic infraction or had an accident, I tucked my real driver's license in an inside pocket of my new women's wallet, with my fake license displayed on the outside. And in case I was mugged and lost my purse, I stuck an extra hotel key inside one of my shoes - a girl couldn't be too careful! I drove carefully, shielding my eyes as I added yet another item to my growing shopping list: sunglasses. It was amazing how many little things a woman needed just to get through the day, and by the time I got back to the hotel, I was beat.

So I stripped off my skirt, top and lingerie and treated myself to another bubble bath. Heaven! After I reapplied my makeup, I decided to put on one of my new sundresses. It was black, with little yarnbows on the shoulders, and it was unlined so I was glad I'd bought a slip to wear under it, which felt sinfully delicious against my skin. After I dropped my dress over my head and strapped on my new heels - that took some getting used to - I put all my girl stuff in a different purse which matched my dress, slung it over my shoulder and walked to the hotel restaurant, a little wobbly in my new heels.

A single woman alone at a fancy restaurant is an oddity, but fortunately I had a very friendly waiter, a young man about my age who was terribly good-looking. He smiled at me when I was seated at one of his tables, and produced my menu with a flourish. What followed was one of the most memorable nights of my life.

I'm sure you've noticed that so far there has not been a word of dialogue in these memoirs. That's not entirely by accident: when I went on the lam, I kept my mouth shut so as not to reveal my identity, and after I made the jump from boy to girl, I'd been very cautious about speaking to anyone, for fear that my voice would be too deep and might give me away.

Anyway Randy - my waiter's name, according to the tag on his uniform - was naturally charming, and when he told me how much he liked my dress, I started to giggle. Giggle like a girl.

"What's so funny?"

"I got it at the outlets today for $19." My female voice came naturally, very soft and sweet, and I started to relax.

"I've finally found the perfect girl."

"Hardly," I said. What an understatement! I might look, and sound, like a girl, but under my $19 dress...

"No, I mean it. Pretty, smart and sensible. Where have you been all my life?"

Did he really think I was pretty as a girl? "You're making me blush."

"Please don't! It'll hide your freckles, which I find irresistible."

My God, he was flirting with me! "You do?"

"Of course. What can I bring you to drink?"

What did a woman drink? "How about a glass of your house Chardonnay?"

"Coming right up." I tried to compose myself after he left. I'd never been attracted to a man in my life, and now, on my first day as a woman, I felt my pulse racing. When he returned with my glass of wine, I felt a little spike in my panties too.

"Thanks." I took a sip while he stood patiently beside my table. "This is lovely."

"The swordfish is excellent tonight."

"Sold. Can I start with a Caesar salad?"

"Surely. Excellent choice." He left me to my wine, and I felt a little buzz as it went to my head.

By the time Randy returned with my salad, my glass was almost empty. "So what's a pretty girl doing here all alone tonight?" he asked.

"Getting quietly bombed. Another glass of your lovely Chardonnay please."

"Coming right up. Only you have to tell me more when I come back." Tell him what? That I was really a man? That I was a fugitive, with drug dealers on my tail and millions of dollars in stolen cash in my room? Or how about this: "Do you make it with girls who are really boys?" That would be a show-stopper, all right...maybe he was really gay, and he'd seen through my disguise? Or maybe he was just a straight guy who had a little thing for chicks with dicks?

My Caesar salad was delicious, and as I sipped the remains of my first glass of wine, I allowed myself to revel in my good fortune: I was alive, in a warm, sunny place, with all the money I'd ever need. And I'd turned myself into a girl, a pretty girl who men like Randy found attractive. Still, it was only half a life, and it was going to be a very lonely existence, unless I could find someone to confide in. Was Randy that person? I'd only known him five minutes, and already I was thinking about confiding my innermost secrets to him! What kind of a silly little girl was I turning myself into?

Randy returned with my Chardonnay, and I decided to take a direct approach. No use stringing him along if he was going to freak out when he found out I was a guy. Nobody in the restaurant knew who I was, and I was checking out of the hotel tomorrow, so why not go for it? After all the traumas I'd been through over the past week, what was one more? No doubt the wine was getting to me.

"So Randy," I asked before he could say anything, "have you noticed anything...special about me?"

"Hmmm..." he said as he stood back and framed my face with his hands. "You have beautiful blue eyes, cute hair, those freckles I've already mentioned, and the first thing I noticed when you walked in are those killer legs. Other than that, you're a dog," he smiled.

I felt that spike in my panties again! "If I didn't know any better, I'd suspect that you're trying to get into my panties tonight."

"She's onto me," he said as he watched me sip my Chardonnay.

"And what if you were to find a secret in those panties?" I looked up at him and studied his face, which had a blank expression. He was working it out...then he broke into a shy smile, and he leaned over and whispered, "If you're trying to tell me what I think you're trying to tell me, I think I want to find out."

* * *

The rest of that evening is a blur, until Randy knocked on the door of my hotel room. I'd taken off my dress and put on my sexy new nightgown, and when Randy came in, I did a nervous twirl for him. "Do you like what you see?" I asked him.

"I want to see your secret," he said before he lifted my chin and gave me a little kiss.

"In due time," I answered after I curled up on the bed.

"So have you ever made it with a girl like me?"

"No, never. But since we're sharing secrets, can I tell you one of mine?"

"Sure."

"Sometimes I wonder what it would be like...I mean sometimes I think about how I'd look...shit, why is this so hard to say?"

"You wonder what it would be like to dress up as a girl. Believe me, I get it." He was still standing next to the bed, and I framed his face with my hands, like he'd done to me at the restaurant. "Well, let's see...you've got a cute face, your nose isn't too big, and with a little makeup I think you'd make a pretty girl. But you're so tall! Big and strong doesn't translate into sugar and spice..."

"That's what I was afraid of. You must think I'm kinda creepy."

I patted the bed next to me and he sat down awkwardly. "No, I think you're gorgeous." I lifted his chin and returned his kiss. It felt nice...no, it felt great, and my penis was raging in my panties. I reached down and felt him through his trousers, and he was hard as a rock. One thing led to another, and before long I had him undressed, and he was tugging my panties down to my knees. I can't remember who started it, but soon we were kissing each other's penises, and the sensation of tasting his pre-cum while he sucked on me was like nothing I'd ever experienced, sheer, utter lust that consumed us both as our arousal peaked and we came simultaneously in each other's mouths, wicked orgasms that felt - and tasted - so damn good!

We lay there together in each other's arms for quite some time, neither of us saying a word, until Randy finally spoke. "Baby, that was the best I've ever had. I guess this makes me gay," he added.

"Not necessarily. I mean, you definitely just made it with a guy, but I'm a girl too, so I'm not feeling especially gay at the moment. More like a woman who just gave her first blowjob, and kinda liked it. Of course, the fact that you gave me one too made it pretty amazing."

"So what you're saying is, we're both fucked up."

"Exactly." He kissed me, a deep, romantic kiss that started me stirring again, and I felt him stiffening too, and we stroked each other for a while until we were both hard again. At first I thought he was going to go down on me again, until he pulled a condom out of his pants pocket on the floor. "This will be a night of firsts," I said.

"You mean you've never made it with a guy before?"

"Sweetheart, I've never made it with anybody before."

"Wow, a virgin. And my first ladyboy. How do you want it?"

"Huh?"

"What position? Missionary? Doggie style? Reverse cowgirl?"

"Goodness...are you sure I'm your first?"

"You're my first boy. Here, stand up and lean over the bed." I did as I was told, and he gently pushed me down and stood behind me. "I'll be gentle," he said, sensing my apprehension. I felt his penis probing my ass cheeks (which tickled) then he bore down and inserted the tip inside me. I gasped at the shock of penetration, it hurt! But he held me down by the shoulders and kept on driving, in and then out, a bit deeper each time, and I opened my legs a little more and bent my knees as I tried to rock with his rhythm, in and out, in and out, faster and faster until I could sense that he was getting ready to cum. I don't know when the pain turned to pleasure, but by the time he was ready, I was in a fit of ecstasy from the raw, pure pleasure of having a man inside me, and then he reached around and grabbed my quivering cock, which he stroked tenderly while he exploded inside me, which in turn made me cum too, a mind-bending orgasm that I felt down to my toes as he continued to slide in and out of me, until we were both spent, and we collapsed onto the pool of semen on my bed.

We lay that way forever, it seemed, until Randy's breathing returned to normal and he rolled off me. "Wow," was all he said.

"Was it good for you too?"

"Are you kidding? That was the best I've ever had. Even if it means I'm gay."

"But you're not. Because I'm a girl. Which makes you bi, I guess. And me too."

"Bi. I like that. Yeah, I like that a lot."

* * *

After Randy got dressed and left, I tossed and turned for a long time. I'd just had sex, amazing sex, with a man. And I loved it! It was hard to believe that less than 24 hours ago, I didn't own a stitch of women's clothing, and now I was not only living as a woman full time, but I'd just had fantastic sex as a woman, in a way I'd never experienced as a man. All of my troubles back in Oregon seemed far, far away...

The next morning, after shaving my legs again in another long, lazy bubble bath (I was becoming addicted) I put on my makeup and dressed myself in my other new sundress, which felt light and lovely against my freshly shaved skin.

I wondered if Randy would be serving breakfast in the restaurant? He was nowhere to be seen, and it occurred to me that I was probably going to be just another one night stand for him, one of his many conquests, with a little twist in my tail. Which was okay, I had no complaints! Although I wished I could see him again to say goodbye. I'd given him my new email address and cellphone number, but chances are he'd tossed them after he left me, probably feeling a little sheepish about making it with a Tgirl, which is what I was. Oh well...

One of my acquisitions when I went out yesterday was a good woman's suitcase, and I packed it full with my new clothes, shoes, purses, etc. After I did an express checkout over the phone, I walked out of the room where I'd become a woman, tugging my suitcase behind me with my backpack on top of it, all of my men's clothing already tossed into a hotel dumpster. It was time to get on with my new life.

* * *

He woke up early after a sound night's sleep, his first in memory. There was something about the waves, the sound they made as they rolled onto the broad sandy beach, that always soothed him. That, and the fact that it was thirty degrees cooler than the weather he'd left behind in Salem. Sleeping without air conditioning, with the windows open to the fresh sea air, was better than any sleeping pill.

It had been a frustrating month for Detective Hal Wallace of the Oregon State Police. The fruitless search for a hiker lost on Mount Hood during a freak spring snowstorm, and the unsolved murder of a young intern for a Portland television station, had both bedeviled him, and he was beginning to wonder if it was time for him to look for another line of work. A long weekend on the Oregon coast had been prescribed by his sympathetic supervisor, who offered him the keys to her beach house in Lincoln City, and he'd jumped at the chance to escape the impending heatwave for a few days.

He knew that the crowds would be arriving early as day trippers flocked to the coast to cool off, and a check of the tide table confirmed that low tide was in a few minutes. So he threw on shorts and a hooded sweatshirt and walked across the street to a long, winding staircase that deposited him on the deserted beach. He'd traveled a lot in his youth, and he'd never seen a more stunning coastline than the stretch of Oregon between Cannon Beach and Bandon, where monumental rock formations sprang out of the sea, and massive trees washed up occasionally after a Pacific storm.

Kicking off his flip flops, he started to stroll along the broad beach. He wasn't looking for anything in particular, perhaps a nice agate or a conch shell to add to his collection, when he spied the bottle, floating a few feet offshore. It looked to be a large wine bottle, with a red top and something white inside. Curious, he stepped into the waves and picked it up. The red top was a glob of old-fashioned sealing wax covering the cork, and inside there appeared to be several sheets of paper, coiled and held together by a rubber band.

The detective in him was naturally intrigued. He stuffed it into the pouch in the front of his sweatshirt. Perhaps he'd open it after he finished his walk along the beach.

* * *

I hated my driver's license photo!

When I threw my fake license together, I'd settled for an old picture of me as a guy, but with long enough hair to make my sex questionable. Now that I was living full-time as a woman, my vanity was such that I absolutely had to have a better picture on it. Fortunately, I'd saved the template I created in Chicago as a file on my new email server, so after I settled into my condo on Sanibel Island, I posed for a passport photo at drugstore in Fort Meyers, then on to a FEDEX store to create a new license with my smiling face.

Before I left, I surfed the web once again for any news of the missing hiker on Mount Hood (me) or the murdered intern at KOIN who had been my friend. There was nothing to be found, and I figured that the old me was already forgotten, except by the drug lords who knew that I'd stolen three million dollars from their bank account, and probably assumed that I'd faked my death on the mountain.

So far I'd kept one step ahead of them. After I left Tampa, I'd pulled onto the freeway and headed south, exiting at Fort Meyers where I had a bite at a fast food restaurant (a woman dining alone was no big deal at such places) before I continued over the causeway to Sanibel Island. I'd read about Sanibel years before, and it had always fascinated me: an island on the Gulf Coast, it ran east to west, which positioned it to trap a never-ending supply of fantastic seashells on its miles of sandy beaches. It was relatively isolated, and most of the occupants were very rich, living there during the winter months and closing up their homes and condos when the summer heat set in. There was a wide range of hotel accommodations, as well as furnished residences available for short and long term rental, and I was interested in a condo on Middle Gulf Drive that had a view of the Gulf and was a short walk from the beach, if the listing I'd spotted on the Internet was to be believed.

So I pulled into a realtor's office and presented myself to the pretty young receptionist. "What a lovely dress," she exclaimed, and I smiled back at her. I was beginning to feel the sisterhood that women instinctively radiated towards one another.

"Thanks, I got it in Tampa yesterday." Then I whispered, "On sale at the outlets." She laughed. "I'm interested in this listing." I handed her the address on a scrap of paper. "Is it still on the market?"

"Let's find out." She excused herself, and returned in a few minutes with a stunning realtor, who was probably in her late thirties, but who possessed a perfect figure, and only a few tell-tale lines on her lovely face. But I felt nothing in my panties. Had my night with Ryan tapped me out? Or was I already past the point of no return?

After we introduced ourselves, she invited me to a small conference room. I smoothed my dress as I sat down, crossing my legs self-consciously - this was my first one-on-one encounter lasting more than a few seconds with another woman, and I wondered if she'd penetrate my disguise?

She didn't. "You're in luck," she said. "The owners of that unit just packed up and returned to their home in Pennsylvania. It's available next week - right now it's occupied by an elderly couple who've been spending this week there for the last several years, I think it's their anniversary - but after that it's wide open till June. The minimum rental is one week. It's a popular unit, so if you're interested I suggest you move fast."

"So if I wanted it starting next week and wanted to stay there for a month, what kind of discount would they give me for a 30 day lease?" The weekly rent was a fortune, but the unit was perfect, at the end of an isolated lane so nobody could approach without being seen - I'd surreptitiously checked it out after I drove onto the island. If I could stay there till summer, by then I ought to be able to find something more permanent, assuming I decided to stay in Sanibel.

She got the owners on their cellphone, and after a quick conversation she reported that they were willing to knock a few hundred dollars off the rent. Done!