Best of Both Worlds

I spent most of the weekend mooching around on auto pilot. By Sunday night I told myself I wasn't upset that Jay hadn't phoned me. Of course, I could have phoned him; but I'd set up the first date, and I'm just old fashioned enough to believe that the man should make the next move. After all, I didn't want to come across as desperate – even if I was! The worst of it was, I wanted to talk to Mel about it, but how could I? "Hi Mel, I've got a new bloke. You know him actually – well, you should do, you were shagging him five minutes ago." Maybe not.

By the time I got to work on Monday I was well fed up. It was pissing with rain and I was convinced Jay had decided I was the worst idea he'd ever had, and had probably emigrated. Until ten o'clock. That's when the flowers arrived. A huge bunch with every colour imaginable, and a few that were beyond my imagination. Some of the girls were just gathering around my desk, cooing at them as I buried my nose in them, when my phone rang. My changed mood must have been reflected in my voice as I gave my official greeting, because the first words I heard were "You got them then."

Shooing my colleagues away, I said coyly, "Got what?"

Jay chuckled, and said, "My urine samples. I just wanted to say how great last Friday was. Sorry I didn't call you over the weekend, but I had a lot of stuff going on."

Hmm. Too much to spend five minutes on the phone with his neurotic new girlfriend, with whom he had such a great time only a few days earlier? Suddenly the flowers didn't look quite so bright anymore. I rallied, and replied, "Yeah, me too. Thanks for the flowers, they really are beautiful. I enjoyed Friday too, when are we doing it again?"

There was a slightly overlong pause at the other end of the line, then Jay answered hesitantly, "Can I take a rain check on that just for now Jak? I really want to see you again, but I've got a sod of a week at work. I'll call you, okay?"

I felt my heart sinking, and tried not to let anyone in the office see my smile slip. Oh well, at least a big bunch of flowers was as nice a kiss-off as I'd been given in a long time. I said, "Yeah, okay Jay, you give me a call next time you're free, and I'll see what I'm doing."

I thought I'd kept the acid out of my voice, but evidently not. After another tiny pause Jay came back, sounding hurt. "Jak, don't be like that. I really do want to see you again, I mean it, but it really is...look" - I heard scrabbling – "I can move a few things round in my diary, how are you fixed for Thursday night?" I couldn't help the deflated way I was feeling and told him, trying to sound sweet, not to put himself out on my part. There was a sigh, then he said, "Jakki, please? Pretty please? We can talk better face-to-face." I agreed, but I really wasn't looking forward to it any more.

I approached Thursday evening with a sense of foreboding. If I was going to get the you're-lovely-but-let's-just-be-friends speech I'd rather it had come on a card with the flowers. We met in a pub on St Martin's Lane, the idea being to chat then go and see a chick-flick I fancied at the Odeon in Leicester Square. In fact, we never made it out of the pub.

After a few minutes of stilted greetings and long silences Jay stared into his G and T and, with a heavy sigh, said, "Look, the truth is" – here it comes, I thought, the wife and three kids. "The truth is, Friday scared me a bit. I mean, I knew I was attracted to you you, but we just clicked so well and, God, you're so lovely, that..." What? What? I'm lovely, you fancy me – what's scary about that? Get on with it man! "Well, I don't get close to women that easily. I've...had some disappointments in the past. With Mel I knew it was just a bit of fun, and no more than that, but, well, I've already started to think of you as special, and I began to worry you might not feel the same way and I'd end up getting hurt again."

I was flabbergasted. I'm just not the sort of woman men say that sort of thing about. And isn't it us girls who are supposed to be the sensitive, vulnerable ones? A little voice told me that it might just be a line to get me into bed, but if it was it was having the right effect. Sod bed – I wondered if the ladies' loo in the pub had a condom machine and a decent sized cubicle! Then I saw the pained, anxious look on Jay's face and all my one-liners drained away; I knew he was waiting for my reaction to his comments.

Deep breath. "Christ Jay, you're lovely. I could barely take my eyes off you from that first moment I saw you with Mel. I've never had so many nice things said about me – two of them." (Sorry, humour's a bit of a nervous reflex action with me. Thankfully Jay smiled.) "I was totally miserable when you didn't call me at the weekend, I thought I must have blown it. To be honest, I think it's a bit too early to tell what sort of future we've got together – you can't really be as perfect as I think you are and I haven't found out your faults yet. You haven't found mine out either, thank God! Well, except for the drunken bloody stupid comment thing." (A broad smile.) And I survived that, so...let's see how it goes, but there's certainly nothing yet to rule out getting serious about each other."

Bloody hell, a bit heavy for early evening and only half a Bacardi and Coke inside me! But it got heavier yet. Somehow we got onto the subject of Jay's gender. I admitted I'd done a bit of research and made the potentially dumb comment that I was glad he had avoided the psychological problems it could cause. He laughed at that – but not in a good way. "I haven't always been the calm, well-adjusted professional you see in front of you now. I've always identified as male, but at 14 I was totally fucked up. I thought of myself as a freak. Well, let's face it, I am a freak. But my parents were so supportive – they really are wonderful people – and managed to find me a therapist who...let's just say he's an expert in the subject. He talked me through it and I still see him on a regular basis, as a therapist and as a mate. He's pretty much a second father to me."

When he finished he gave me such a nervous look as he tried to gauge my reaction that I broke up. I just managed to squeak "Oh Jay" as I hugged him and burst into tears. We sort of rocked together for a couple of minutes, then we both got rather pissed. We were a lot more comfortable with each other after that little heart-to-heart, and got onto lighter subjects. I remembered the Indonesian Treasures exhibition, and suggested we go at the weekend.

Jay looked uncertain. "Thing is, I told you I'm re-decorating my flat. I really need to get on with it. I was planning to spend all weekend..." He must have seen something in my face, because he smartly changed tack. "Okay, look, here's the deal. We'll go to the exhibition on Saturday morning, if you'll come round and help me decorate in the afternoon." We clinked glasses on the deal. After several hours and a lot of booze Jay walked me to the tube station. We did some serious snogging, and I grabbed his hand and placed it firmly on my boob. He just let it lie there dormant, but at least he didn't remove it. If he'd suggested again that he escort me back to my place I would have leapt at the offer, and on him once I got him home. But he didn't and, after the emotions of the evening, I didn't want him to feel pressurised in any way.

I was up at the crack of dawn on Saturday, as opposed to my usual crack of noon, and by 8.15 I was in Central London cupping my hands around a Starbucks while I waited for Jay. My jaw dropped when I saw the huge queue for the opening of the event, but it turned out Jay had had a hand in setting it up, the sly bugger, and he got us inside before the doors had even opened to the public. I found it genuinely fascinating and beautiful, and Jay's knowledge of, and affection for, the subject was obvious. Afterwards, holding hands, we went to a nice restaurant for lunch then made our way back to Islington, splitting the 144 different sections of The Times between us on the tube.

Jay's flat was small and attractive, on the first floor of a newish block not far from Angel station. Inside he handed me a set of overalls and, aware of the step I was taking, I casually stripped down to my bra and pants in front of him and pulled them on. I've got what's politely called an hour glass figure, big boobs (well, a C cup, still, just), tapering at the waist and wide hips with chubbier thighs than I'd like. I hadn't shaved recently, and a thin line of dark hair extended above my knickers in a line up to my navel. Being a gentleman Jay turned his back, but not being a lady I made sure I copped a good look at his slim, toned, hairless body as he similarly stripped down to his briefs and pulled his own overalls on. Nice, tight bum, slim muscular legs.

For the next six hours we painted hard, not talking much, mainly Jay directing me as to what he needed me to do, which colour was going on which wall and so on, and me boiling the kettle for coffee a couple of times. I welcomed the vigorous activity as an outlet for the sexual tension I was beginning to feel at being completely alone with him for the first time. Towards the end I splashed him with paint off the big brush I was using – a genuine accident – and within seconds we were into a paint fight, getting almost as much on each other and the newspapers covering the floor as we had on the walls. After a few minutes, both exhausted and helpless with laughter, we collapsed together on a sofa-shaped lump covered by an old paint-splattered sheet.

We both sat giggling while we recovered our breath. I could feel paint in my hair and on my face, and said, "I'm going to need a bloody good shower."

Jay nodded and said, "Me too. Do you want to go first?"

I turned to look at him. I intended my next comment to sound jokey, not emotional and needy, as it in fact did. "No Jay, I want us to go together."

He returned my look, a little nervously I thought, then leaned in and we kissed; not the sniggering, sloppy snogging we'd previously indulged in, this was the long, gentle, tender kiss of lovers. One-handed I unbuttoned the top of Jay's overall and slid my fingers inside. That was when I got my first surprise, as my hand made contact with one of his boobs. I'd been with blokes with man boobs before, of course, but this was the real thing, probably smaller than mine at age 13, but no less genuine for that. I suppose I hadn't really thought through the full implications of him having the physical characteristics of both sexes. I must have tensed, because Jay's eyes flew open, but he relaxed again as I increased the intensity of the kiss and curled my fingers around his flesh, flicking his nipple with my thumb. For a second Jay's hand brushed the outside of my boob, then it passed on and around my back, pulling me towards him. Just as I thought we were about to get down and dirty right there, he stood, rather abruptly, and said, "I'll go and put the shower on, lay some towels out."

I began to wonder whether I was pushing Jay too fast and scaring him, but when he came back a couple of minutes later he gave me a big smile, pulled me to my feet, hugged me and kissed me on the nose. I think maybe my acceptance of his chest had broken the ice. We stripped slowly, eyes locked on each other, in the bathroom. Jay had a small cock, but a pretty one, a little clump of black hair above it. I made a conscious effort not to stare at his groin; after all, I was planning to get very familiar with it later on! The shower was tiny, but neither of us complained as my big knockers pressed up against his chest, and his arms wrapped around me, hands kneading my bum.

We spent a good half hour washing ourselves, washing each other, hugging and kissing, then dried ourselves and, with a complete lack of self-consciousness, walked holding hands to his bedroom. That was the first room he'd finished decorating, and the fittings had a real oriental feel to them: black duvet cover patterned with bamboo stalks, paper light shade covered with a traditional Japanese garden scene, that kind of thing. Once there I think we both had a slight attack of shyness, and just lay smiling into each other's eyes for a few minutes before I rolled half on top of Jay and slipped my tongue into his mouth.

He began massaging my boobs, gently squeezing them and rolling them on my chest. I slipped a hand down his body, and he gasped and twitched slightly, then sighed, as my fingers wrapped around his knob. He was already stiff, and I licked my way down his body, sucking his nipples on the way, then took him into my mouth. As I did so I closed my eyes in pleasure; I hadn't tasted a cock for months, and I always get a special thrill out of giving a new lover a blowjob for the first time, before I fuck him senseless. I ran my lips sensuously up and down Jay's prick, tracing its length and contours with the tip of my tongue. On auto pilot, I stretched a hand between his legs, reaching for his balls as I would with any bloke; then I was reminded of the reality of the situation as my finger slipped into a warm, damp cavity. I almost withdrew with shock, a reflex action, but thankfully I managed to catch myself, and instead pressed on, slipping a couple of fingers into Jay. After all, I've never been adverse to tonguing a nice pussy either, and, as Mel had once hinted, he really did offer the best of both worlds.

Jay moaned with happiness at the feelings I was creating in him, and circled his hips, encouraging my mouth and my fingers. I sensed he was about to cum – that his cock was about to ejaculate, that is – and wanting to prolong the moment I released him from between my lips and licked along his shaft. It really was the strangest sensation, feeling my tongue slip down a hot stiff boner, and from there directly into a juicy pussy and back up again. I had wondered how I would feel when it happened, and the tiny part of my brain that was still thinking registered pleasure that in fact I found it a real turn-on. After a couple of circuits I sucked Jay's knob into my mouth and he came within seconds, with a sort of high whining sound as his hips jerked at my greedily sucking mouth.

I took a sip of water than kissed Jay. We held each other close and just marvelled at the moment. Then he whispered to me. "Thank you. Sorry, it takes a bit of time before I'm ready again."

I kissed his chin, and murmured, "That's okay, I'm not going anywhere for a while. I'm not expecting the Harlem Globetrotters round at my place for another three hours yet." I do like a man who laughs at even my silliest jokes! So we kissed and cuddled for a bit, and each told the other we hadn't thought we'd really be lucky enough to get them into bed, then I pulled on one of Jay's old sweatshirts and, otherwise naked, made us both cheese on toast, then we both dropped crumbs in the bed. I don't know whether it was the dangerously stale Cheddar or the tiny toasted specks sticking into his arse, but after that Jay was raring to go again. He'd already told me he only fires blanks but, nevertheless, did sweetly offer to use a condom. It did cross my mind to say "Thanks, I don't want to risk getting the clap for the second time in six months", but for once I managed to keep my finger off the self-destruct button and told him that of course I didn't want him to. I always prefer bare-back anyway, as long as I'm reasonably sure it's safe. To be honest I could barely wait to get him inside me, so the poor man had only just started nibbling my tits when I was dragging him up me and wrapping my legs around him. He slipped into me very easily, and I drew my knees up as my beautiful new lover screwed me. I clutched his sweet little bum, and two of my finger tips slipped into his pussy. (I don't think I'll ever quite get used to saying that – 'his pussy'.)

Now, I must be honest, that wasn't the first time in my life I'd stroked a vagina while its owner fucked me; but it was the first time the rod inside me hadn't been strapped on and made of artificial materials! Through the mix of new-boyfriend-sex, the anticipation I'd been feeling, Jay kissing me and, let's be honest, the sheer novelty of the situation, I think I had the biggest, most brain-shattering orgasm of my entire life (up to then!), bucking and roaring like a raging bull as Jay gripped on for dear life, several suns went supernova behind my eyelids and the entire Moscow Philharmonic slipped into my head and started crashing out the end of the 1812 Overture at maximum volume. The combination of that, my long day, all the painting and the adrenalin release caught up with me and I fell asleep for a while. When I woke Jay was asleep, but I'm sure he's had worse alarm calls in his life than a randy woman sucking his knob and fingering his pussy prior to squatting astride him and screwing us both to another blinding climax.

We celebrated our first wedding anniversary last week. I never thought I was the wifey type, but then I never thought I'd meet anyone I love as much as I do Jay, or who's so amazingly sweet to me. Jay's sister was my bridesmaid, and Mel my Best Woman. She actually made a very witty speech. At one point she said, "I first suspected Jakki fancied my boyfriend when I nipped off to the loo for 30 seconds and came back to find her throwing him across the table and shagging him. Of course, it didn't stop her wolfing down her crème caramel, always been a mutli-tasker has our Jak." My folks know what Mel's like, but thankfully Jay's parents roared with laughter too. He's right, they really are very special people.

We honeymooned in Laos and Vietnam, and Jay always makes sure he keeps a couple of weeks in August free to come up to Edinburgh with me. It means I can't go out getting pissed with my old mates until three in the morning like I used to, but I'd much rather be doing cheaper, and more enjoyable, things in my digs with my husband! I've kept my own surname on stage, and my new show's called 'My Hermaphrodite Boyfriend'. It's not really much about intersex people, that's just a tag to hang my relationship gags on. Not only did Jay help me write some of the material though, he even suggested the title. Of course, nobody believes it's true – except for Mel that is!