Nephrite (The One Week Chronicles)

Still straddling him, I arched my back so that I could kiss his neck, teasing his body with my nails. I reached below his belt and felt his hard cock, large enough to satisfy even the most demanding gurl.

"Bedroom," I whispered and he looked up to let me know it was upstairs. I grabbed his shirt and slid from him, pulling him up and letting him follow me up the stairs. I made sure to give him a good view of my rear as I made my way up.

"Left," he murmured huskily as we reached the top and I turned left to his bedroom, unzipping my dress slowly so that he could see my basque and suspenders beneath. I let the dress slip to the floor and looked over my shoulder. I could see him blinking rapidly and my lips curled in a smile.

His room was neat and the bed large enough to sleep an entire family. I slunk my way to it and sat on the bed, Clive following, his eyes fixed on mine. As he neared me, I reached out and unzipped his trousers, pulling them and his pants down so that his cock sprang in my face. I looked up and grabbed the shaft, opening my mouth and taking it in, my eyes never leaving his.

He tasted great and lasted a mere twenty seconds before he came suddenly in my mouth. Eyes still on his, I swallowed every drop and soon realised why he had cum so quickly. It must have been his first release for months and I gasped as great spurts of semen filled my mouth causing me to swallow quickly whilst still filling my mouth with his cock.

His orgasm spent, he looked mortified and apologised profusely.

"I'm so sorry," he said. "That's never happened before."

"Then I'll take it as a complement," I said and slid back further on the bed, turning away from Clive and presenting him with my rear. I pulled my knickers to one side so that the thong moved to the left, exposing my arse. "Ready to make up for it?"

He swiftly clambered onto the bed and leaned over my back, kissing me gently and lifting my hair above my neck so that he could kiss it. I purred as he started to kiss down my back, his hands running along my satin basque and reaching round to fondle my breasts. I loved the sensation of my real breasts being touched so gently, yet firmly, and gasped with pleasure.

I then felt his hands moved to my waist and he positioned himself behind me. I felt his semen covered cock press against me arse and closed my eyes in anticipation. I always loved that moment when a real cock was gently pushed into me, that feeling of being filled and the sheer exaltation of a nice cock rubbing against my g-spot.

Clive didn't disappoint and I moaned with pleasure as he slid in. I could tell that it was his first time as he didn't do it that slowly. Didn't allow a moment to let me adjust, but that was ok. It wasn't my first time and I gently moved my arse to make it work.

Soon he was thrusting inside me, grabbing my waist harder as he grunted with each push. I moved in rhythm with him and we soon found ourselves moaning with pleasure. I could feel the orgasm close and gripped the bedsheets as his cock teased my g-spot with every thrust. He came for a second time, gripping me harder as he thrust as deeply as he could.

I felt him shudder inside me and he let out a small cry as he came deep inside my arse. I felt my own climax coming and egged him on, telling him to keep pushing. He gave a few more thrusts and then gave a satisfied sigh.

Damn it, I thought. I was seconds away from an orgasm. The mind blowing hands free anal stimulation type that Tash had shown me. I sighed.

That's ok, I thought. I can train him.

Clive kissed my back and withdrew from me, leaving an empty, hollow feeling behind. I heard him patter into the bathroom and soon heard the sounds of an electric toothbrush and splashing water. I lay on the bed, a little unsure of what to do. Clive eventually came through and pointed a thumb behind him.

"All yours," he said. "There's a spare brush under the sink, so help yourself." I smiled and went into the bathroom, finding the spare toothbrush and cleaning myself up. Looking in the mirror, I adjusted my knickers and debated what to wear. Basque on or off? Stockings on or off?

I elected for off and removed the basque and stockings, folding them into a neat pile on the side. I left my knickers on and then made my way to Clive's bed. He was already in there and opened up the sheets invitingly as I neared. I snuggled up beside him and he wrapped an arm around me as I curled up with my head on his chest. I could hear his heart beating; a slow rhythmic thud.

"First time?" I asked. His heart quickened.

"Not my first time with sex," he replied evenly. I looked up and smiled at him.

"I'll take it as another complement," I said and he leaned down to kiss me, a strange smile on his lips.

We chatted for a while and then drifted off to sleep, still curled up on his chest in the crook of his arm.

I woke early, but Clive was already gone. I sighed and cursed myself. It was becoming a bad habit. I made my way to the bathroom and quickly showered and brushed my teeth. Finding my dress on the floor, I quickly got dressed and prepared to make the walk of shame from Clive's house to my own home.

On the front door was a note;

Dear Jessie,

I'm sorry I had to leave. Boring Bank Business. I had a great time last night. Same again tomorrow? I thought we could go and picnic in Hyde Park.

Clive

Xxx

I'll admit that I was grinning like a fool when I left Clive's house. I'm sure the morning sun was brighter and that the birds made an extra effort with their song.

We saw each other regularly and sometimes I stayed at his and sometimes he stayed at mine. I didn't notice it at first and it was Lucy who pointed it out to me.

"We have a deal," she said ominously. "I tell you all the sordid details of my sex life and you tell me yours. You're holding back. Spill it." We were in the same café where we had first met and I sipped my hot drink while she accused me of holding back. She was off to see some friends in Manchester that day and I had wanted to come, but couldn't get the time off work.

"I've told you everything," I replied and she gave me a strange look.

"You mean to tell me he's not made you cum yet?"

"He's new to this," I said. I was happy to give him time, let him develop. I had tried a few new things, but he was content with good old fashioned doggy style.

"He ever touch your cock?" she asked bluntly. I thought about it for a moment.

"No," I answered. She gave me a sad smile.

"Sorry hun. You need to dump him."

"Why?" I asked.

"He likes the idea of dating girls like us, but not the reality. It's easy with you because no one knows any different until you show your tackle." I smiled at her crudeness, but it was a hollow gesture. She was simply voicing what I feared.

The next evening, after another bout of sex in which he saw only my back, I thought I'd raise the issue with him. He lay on the sheets, panting slightly. For all the issues under the sheets, he was affectionate, kind and caring. I loved spending time with him. I wore a satin teddy that had an under bust and black satin flowing from it. I loved it the moment I saw it and had always wanted to wear something sexy like this but never had the breasts for it. I lay with my head on his chest and traced a lazy path over his stomach with a nail.

"Are you ok with me being...different?" I asked. There was a long pause as Clive tried to find the words.

"I'm fine with it," he said. An interesting choice of words.

"Would you rather it if I was female?" I asked. He shifted uncomfortably. I didn't lift my head to look at him. I didn't need to.

"Would you rather be female?"

"Not yet," I replied. "I'm happy as I am, but that may not always be the case." He was silent for a long time, the only sound in the room our steady breathing.

"You don't touch me," I said and I felt him squirm. It affirmed everything. Lucy was right. I made to speak but a loud shrill sounded in the room as my phone burst into life. I thought I had it on silent, but the moment was interrupted so I lifted myself from Clive and padded to the dresser where I had left the device.

It was Lucy's mother. We'd only met a few times, but she had seemed nice enough. A stark contrast to Lucy; prim and proper. I hit the green icon and lifted the phone to my ear, a faint scratch as my long earrings scraped against the smart screen.

"Hello," is said and listened as the world fell out from beneath me and grief struck a dagger blow to my heart.

There were two funerals that week. One for Lucy and one for Tash. Tash's was hard, Lucy's harder. I loved them both, but Lucy had drawn me from myself, dragged me from a lonely life and filled my time with laughter, friendship and happiness. I felt numb and hollow.

Peanuts. A simple allergy. They'd been driving home from seeing some friends in Manchester when they stopped to get some snacks. Tash had been driving. We all knew she had a peanut allergy except for the guy at the counter who cooked her baguette. He used the same knife for peanut butter as he did for plain old fashioned butter.

They were in a hurry, so decided to eat on the road. I imagined them laughing and joking; Lucy's crude jokes turning the air blue and Tash laughing uproariously. She must have taken a bite and reacted instantly, her throat closing as the peanut hit. I tried to wipe away the thoughts, tried to stop picturing the car hitting the barrier, spinning out of control. The crash might not have killed them, but landing in the river almost certainly did.

I asked Clive to come with me to the funeral, but he'd been distant since that night. He didn't come to either of them and I stayed close to my friends, but we were all so grief stricken it was hard to surround myself with them. I spent less time with them and more on my own, retreating into my shell.

A week or so after the funerals, Clive phoned, asking how I was. I wasn't sure that I could forgive him for not attending the funerals and being there for me, so I was a little curt as I answered the phone.

"What?" I asked.

"Hi," he said, a little taken aback by my tone. "How are you?" he asked, lamely.

"As you'd expect," I replied. There was a pause at the end of the line, as if he was trying to find the right words.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you," he finally said. "Work has just been so busy and..." he trailed off. I didn't trust myself to speak.

"What do you want Clive," I asked wearily.

"I thought I'd see if you wanted to come out with me. We can go somewhere nice and I can help take your mind off things." I sighed, wanting to say no, but realising that staying in my flat, alone, wasn't doing me any good.

"Sure," I said. "Tell me where and when."

It felt weird getting dressed for a date. Lucy and Tash were dead and I was making myself look pretty. It felt meaningless, but, in a way, making an effort took my mind off things. I showered and applied some cream to my smooth legs to give them a soft sheen. I chose my dress and then laid it on the bed along with some stockings and a matching set of suspender belt, knickers and bra. Naturally, I chose the highest heels I could find. I'd always been bullied for my small size and build, but now reaped the rewards. Wearing heels only made me average height.

I stood naked in front of the mirror for a moment and looked my body. I ran a lot and so was trim and firm. I took hormones and they made my skin soft and brought out some curves on my hips and rear. I managed the levels so that my sex drive wasn't affected and it had taken a while to do that. At some point, I would make the full transition perhaps, but not just yet. I'd had a tracheal shave, electrolysed any trace of hair from my face and body and made a minor adjustment to my brow. Everything about me looked like a woman and I felt content at that. The only thing different was the penis hanging between my legs and Clive's words came unbidden to my mind.

"I'm fine with it." Fine wasn't enough, I decided. He'd accept me fully or not at all. Lucy had embraced life to the fullest and I sullied her memory if I didn't as well.

I threw on a satin dressing gown and sat in the mirror to do my make-up. I kept my bedsit clean and wished that I could afford more, but all of my money had gone into making Jessie. I didn't begrudge that at all. Satisfied with my make-up, I used the hair straighteners and sorted out my hair, making it long, smooth and straight.

Hair and make-up fixed, I stepped to my bed and sat on it to pull the stockings up my legs. I'd been living full time by this point, but never grew tired of the feeling of stockings caressing my legs or the grip of a bra, the thong finding its natural groove in my cheeks or the painful pleasure of heels. I embraced femininity and loved every second I was true to myself, my external reflecting the internal.

I'd chosen a new dress that I had bought in the sales. It had one slash over the shoulder and reached down to the ankles, the stretchy fabric clinging to every curve as it clung to my body. There was a glittering clasp on the waist to pinch it in and the long skirt allowed very little movement when walking, but I fell in love with it immediately. The length of the skirt also forced me to wear the highest heels so that the material didn't get caught under each step. Even with five inch stiletto spikes, the hem still reached to just above the floor.

I put on some jewellery that matched the clasp on the dress and sprayed some perfume on my neck and wrists. I then chose a matching clutch and tossed my keys, card and some foundation and lipstick in and left the bedsit to catch a taxi. I was meeting Clive in an expensive restaurant in Kensington and I was running a little late.

Clive was waiting for me as I arrived. He was sat at a table in the far corner of a plush restaurant tucked away behind the tube station. It was expensively decorated and guarded by an unctuous maitre d', who gazed imperiously down at me, clearly deciding that I wasn't wealthy enough to deserve respect.

I smiled sweetly at him and pointed to Clive who gave a brief wave. The man's demeanour changed and he decided that if I wasn't wealthy enough, then Clive most certainly was. He bowed graciously and led me to Clive's table. He rose as I neared and kissed me on the cheek with a murmured greeting. He indicated a seat next to me and I sat, wondering why there were another two seats at the table. He looked abashed for a moment.

"My parents are coming," he said. "They wanted to meet you." I fought a surge of anger and hissed at him.

"We've not spoken for two weeks and you spring this on me?" I was annoyed, but bit it down as an elderly couple approached. Clive stood and held out a hand for me to rise also. I put on my best smile and greeted them both as Clive made the introduction.

"Mum, dad," he said. "I'd like you to meet Jessie." The father held out his hand and introduced himself as Clive. A gave an amused grin as he explained.

"Family tradition going back many years," he said. His voice was strong and, though he must have been over seventy, he looked fit and healthy "Technically, you should call my son junior until I die!"

"I'm sure that won't be for a long time yet," I replied and he winked mischievously. His wife, Carol, greeted me with a guarded expression. Her voice was high and reedy and her mannerisms a stark contrast to Clive Snr. He was relaxed and friendly, she was ice cold.

I sat and tried to catch Clive's eye, but his focus was on the menu. Giving up, I turned to Clive Snr and struck up conversation. He was a gregarious character with a booming laugh that made Carol wince every time he cackled with delight at his stories. Clive joined in and even Carol managed to raise her lips in an approximation of a smile once she had some wine.

Looking back on that meal, I was never really able to explain what I did. I was desperately upset about the loss of my two friends. I was unsure of my relationship with Clive and knew that Lucy, in one of our last conversations had been right. Carol clearly didn't like me, whether because she knew what I was or because she thought I was after Clive's money. Either way, it didn't really matter.

"Where did you go to university?" she asked, assessing me with frank openness.

"St Andrews," I said and her eyebrows lifted in surprise.

"And you work as an office clerk?" she said, contempt in her voice. "Bit of a waste. I'm sure your parents were most displeased." I smiled sweetly. Clive tried to butt in, but I lay a hand on his arm, telling him it was my fight. She was testing me and I could see Clive Snr watching my response.

"I had a scholarship," I replied. Before I could finish, she gave a haughty chuckle.

"Oh," she said. "One of those." By that, she meant; one of those poor people the University had to let in to fulfil some dreary government directive.

"Mum," said Clive and she glared at him. He bowed his head and I hated his weakness.

"I'm just trying to make sure that she's not after our money," she replied. "She's got nothing else going for her apart from good bone structure." Alcohol fuelled her righteousness and Clive Snr butted in with a jovial laugh.

"I like her well enough dear," he said. "She's welcome to the whole blasted lot." I finished my drink and turned to Clive Snr.

"Sir, it was a pleasure to meet you. I'm sorry for what I am about to say, but I'm sure you won't mind." I stood, pushing the chair back and smoothing my dress. "Ma'am. My two best friends died a fortnight ago and they both taught me an important lesson in life, which is that no one is better than anyone else. You are self-righteous and, well, a bit mean really. So I present to you, a big Fuck You." I raised a one fingered salute and gave my best smile. As I turned to leave, I patted Clive on the shoulder.

"Oh, and Junior, that cock between my legs? Even if I did chop it off, I've got bigger balls than you'll ever have."

I was smiling as I left the restaurant. It was the best thing I'd done for weeks and I felt a rush of adrenaline course through me. I decided to head to Soho and have a drink and dance until I was kicked out from the club or I found someone who would give me a damn good fucking.

What I hadn't realised was that Clive Junior and his mother were spiteful and vengeful. I'd humiliated them both and worse, for Clive, told his parents that he was dating a transsexual. At the time, it felt great, but I should have known better. They had wealth and influence and a willingness to use both.

That Monday, as I trudged to work, I was called into HR. Allegations were made, some truthful, some not. I had lied about my gender, that much was true. Either way, I walked out an hour later without a job. I tried to put a positive spin on it. I hated my job and it was time to look for another anyway.

I couldn't get one.

Clive and Caroline were relentless. They put out an unofficial APB to every company that they knew. I was blacklisted and word spread. I was tainted goods.

I managed to survive a month, then scraped through a second, but I didn't have the funds for a third. I got some bar work and then, a week later, turned up to work to find that the establishment had been bought and an application for flats to be built in that building submitted. It couldn't be a coincidence and I knew that Caroline would be behind it.

I worked as a cleaner for the Borough, but was told to leave after my first day. I debated whether to hit the streets and knew a few girls in Soho who could introduce me to some protection, but couldn't bring myself to do it.

Eventually, my life boiled down to two things. Work on the streets or make a phone call. I hesitated. The person I could call had given me so much and enabled me to become more than I could hope for, but I didn't want to keep taking. I didn't have a family; my father had seen to that and I didn't want to scab off my friends.