“If I can do anything?” she asked.
“One thing?” I said.
“Yes?”
“I’m not really used to all this. I need time and space to think, so would you join me for a day’s shopping in London, I’ll even buy lunch?”
“Of course. Is that all?” she asked.
“I’m not sure. I think I might want to talk through some stuff with you tomorrow, but as for now, all I really want is a long soak in the tub and to get some sleep. Air travel is a lot better first class, but still I like a real bed.”
She handed me a mobile phone.
“This is for you. You’ve got my number and Maryanne’s already plumbed in, it’s a pay as you go with fifty quid racked up, so if you need more, just let me know.”
“Thanks, but I’m not sure there’s anyone I know who I’d ever want to call,” I said, putting it into my shoulder bag.
She shrugged. “It’s a sort of in case job. If that’s everything, when shall I meet you tomorrow?”
“Not too early, say ten?”
“Fine. I hope you sleep okay, don’t have too many nightmares,” she said, surprising me by lightly kissing my cheek.
“You even smell like a girl,” she said with a small laugh.
“That’s because I am one – now,” I said. “Why didn’t you kiss me last time we met?”
She chuckled. “You want the truth?”
“Of course.”
“I was terrified of you.”
“Of me?” I asked, astounded. “For God’s sakes, why?”
“You were this rough, tough soldier who’d been so gallant and brave, risking so much and giving up so much for the right principles. I’d never met anyone like you before and you surprised the hell out of me by being so scruffy in your underwear.”
I laughed.
“But then you seemed so lost and like a little boy, so I felt sorry for you so had to force myself to stay professional and detached,” she said.
“Had you not done so, perhaps I’d have made different decisions,” I teased.
“Oh no, don’t say that. Now I feel even guiltier.”
“Well, as I pointed out, perhaps there was never a chance for us, hey?”
She smiled, shaking her head. “I might have admired what you did, but to be honest, you weren’t really my type,” she remarked.
“Ah well, that’s the story of my life. What is your type?”
“Sort of big, hunky, dependable and settled. You were far too unpredictable for me.”
“I might have changed,” I offered with a smile.
She shook her head.
“No, I mean, look at you, you can’t get more unpredictable than this, can you?”
I had to agree and so she left me to consider my new life.
After unpacking my case and bag, I watched the traffic for a while, wondering what the hell I was doing. I had no feeling of belonging in London, as it seemed as alien to me as Vietnam. I made sure the door was locked and read the fire emergency card on the back of the door. How sad is that? I was so different since leaving that prison, and wondered whether I should see a shrink.
I undressed and started to run the bath, looking at my reflection in the full-length mirror.
I liked what I saw, which was never something that affected me with my old body. As a man, I’d felt proud at looking physically fit and enjoyed being in a good shape, but I never felt quite as pleased with my body as I did now. Full breasts, large nipples, a shapely waist, firm and round bum with long legs that were finely muscled without being too chunky. I gently stroked my fair pubic hair that pointed arrow-like to my new jewel in my groin. A small flutter of excitement disturbed my tummy as I felt the raw sensitivity of that jewel. After the operation, I’d been rather numb down there for several weeks. However, just in the last week or so, I’d become aware that I was much more sensitive and felt the slightest change in fabric or movement.
Naturally, it led me to fantasise about sexual contact, inevitably involving a man, who increasingly became Carl as I thought more deeply. I had a problem with guilt over masturbation, which was so silly when you think about it. But as I lay in the luxurious bath, I found my hand kept returning to my crotch. It was quite cathartic, as I liked the look and feel of my new parts, but there was more to it than that, it was as if I should always have been this way and that somewhere deep inside me I was totally content. But as I stroked and rubbed, the sensations were increasing, until a wave of previously un-experienced feelings hit me like a rolling wave. As I lay gasping, it dawned on me that I’d just enjoyed something the doctor said that I probably wouldn’t experience at all, or certainly not for a long time after the operation – an orgasm.
The pleasure seemed to cancel out the guilt and I was eager to repeat the performance. I wasn’t disappointed, but after a while forced myself to get out of the bath and wrapped myself in a towel to stop myself from any further self-abuse.
It was still early in the day, but I slipped naked between the crisp sheets of the vast bed and fell asleep almost instantly.
As I awoke, I was again dreaming of the prison. The guards were taunting me, but somehow I knew it was a dream and was able to laugh at them and wake up. It was the first time I’d ever been able to do that, so was strangely pleased with myself. Often, I’d wake up screaming and sweating, taking several seconds to realise that I wasn’t a prisoner any longer, but free and comfortable.
Free!
The hotel suite was stupidly comfortable, so I thought it was rather wasted on me, as I felt swamped and intimidated by the huge amount of space that was just for me. As I sat up in bed, I could see my reflection in the dressing table mirror. I looked like a nymph waiting for her lover to return and ravish her. I lifted my arms above my head, allowing my breasts to thrust forward. Once more a wave of sexual awareness rose from deep within, and I immediately wondered if Carl would approve of the new me.
Why did I keep thinking of him?
The other hotels I’d stayed in recently had been comfortable but in a smaller league, so in a way I suppose they’d started me to get used to this, but I still felt out of place. I wasn’t complaining, just feeling uncomfortable in such comfort.
Strangely, my thoughts returned to the hotel in New York that I’d stayed in when I’d first met Maryanne. I’d had no problems with that suite, which had been of an equal standard to this. Why then, was I having silly feelings now?
Perhaps it had been my experience in prison, where I learned not to take things for granted any more. I was certainly pleased not to be in an eight by five cell any longer, so I simply smiled and put such thoughts and feelings as far from me as I could.
It was getting dark outside, and by the amount of traffic, it must have been around rush hour. I sat at the dressing table and looked deeply into my own eyes.
What did I see?
A stranger.
I found I didn’t know the person who looked back at me. I liked her, for deep down I recognised that she was someone I always wished I could have been, but refused to admit it to myself or the world. But I didn’t know her.
Knowledge stems from familiarity, yet everything about her so far had been pretence. She’d pretended to be Canadian, while pretending to be a reporter, while pretending to be a young woman.
Hell, even the name wasn’t real!
I found I wanted to be real.
I was almost desperate to get out and be real and normal. I wanted to be accepted as the almost anonymous person I’d always been, but as my new face stared back at me from the mirror, it was clear that those days might well be gone forever. However, there was nothing stopping me being as real as I wanted to be.
How real did I want to be?
How real had I been before?
Those eyes, with the delicate brow, long lashes and mascara stared at me almost challenging me to be honest with myself.
Maryanne wanted me to go down memory lane. I think she imagined me travelling to visit my old schools and homes from the distant past, or even looking up old friends, or at least visiting those places which had some meaning for me.