The lover of Lisa

and she was also my teacher and mentor. She insisted that I learn to
make myself presentable for the world. She taught me how to do so. It
was strange. The last pair of men’s clothes I had worn was that
Saturday long ago. I was now more comfortable in heels than in flats. I
was more comfortable in a sundress than slacks. I had fallen in love
with the way my legs flashed when I walked, how my tight calves and
thighs caused a head to turn. The breast forms came off, finally. And at
about four months into the regime I noticed that I needed to go out and
buy a bra, since I now had a cup size. Lisa thought I was going to be a
natural C, but there was little doubt at this point that I had become an
A on my way to a B and that the hormones were having their planned
effects on me.

I had all but forgotten about Joe. Lisa had made sure too not put me
into a situation like that again. But like every couple, Lisa and I
couldn’t be everywhere together. So Lisa wasn’t with me the day that I
ran into Joe at the mall. She wasn’t there to help me come up with a
good reason to not have a drink with him. And so it was that five
months, well almost six, after I had met Joe with long auburn hair, I
had the opportunity to re-meet Joe, but now the differences were both
small and large.

My hair was all natural, and all mine. It was cut into a short, but
styled with a very girlish layered cut. I was wearing heals that made me
just a few inches shorter than he. I had dressed myself, choosing my own
outfit and applied my own makeup. In short, I was passable and starting
to live life as a woman in a more acceptable way. But I wasn’t ready for
Joe. I had chosen to wear a light blouse out and it came with a jacket
that I had left in the car. So here I was in a short skirt and an almost
see-through blouse with a man who I knew I had excited before. And we
were at a restaurant/bar just outside the mall. I was drinking real
slowly because the last thing I wanted to do was get pissed at this
early hour of the evening.