Enjoy Mollie reading an episode of her great serial – The Dating Game.
“You sound dreadful, Lucy,” David said into the phone.
“I know. Damn stupid cold. I’ve got a nose like a cherry tomato. And it’s sore.”
He had to admit the poor girl sounded ill. Far too ill, and contagious, for him to offer to go round and rub her front. But he was her best friend. The least he could do was offer to post Day Nurse through her letter box.
“Do you want anything from the chemist?”
“No. I’m drugged up to the eyeballs already. A bloody con, though. I don’t feel any better.” She coughed and spluttered, and David was tempted to wipe the screen of his phone.
“But I need a favour. I’m supposed to play tennis this afternoon. Can you cover for me?”
“Cover what for you? You’re not going to play are you?”
“Course not. I’m bloody dying here. I need you to take my place.” On hearing a very deep sigh on the other end of the phone, Lucy added, “It’s only doubles.”
“But I haven’t played for about six weeks.”Continue reading “The Dating Game – Part 10 – Mixed Doubles.”
David/Diana finds a fireman, but it’s going to take more than a few drops of water to put out his fire! Enjoy Mollie Blake’s contnuing saga.
For Our Eyes Only.
The droplets from his raincoat began to pool beneath David’s feet like globules of transparent bubblegum. What’s with the weather in this bloody country? It’s the middle of June, for Pete’s sake. He eased the drenched coat from his shoulders and carried it, together with a dripping umbrella, into the bathroom, where he vented his anger with the cold, wet weather on the offending items by shaking them with an indulgent ferocity before hanging them to drip into his bath.
He stared at the mirror and cringed. In one hour’s time a guy would be waiting for him, or rather for Diana, across town, and it was getting late. He had hoped to be able to take his time to put his make-up on, desperate to try a new eye shadow that arrived in his mail yesterday.Continue reading “The Dating Game – Part 9 – by Mollie Blake”
From the minute we are born we encounter key moments in our lives—opening our eyes, the first smile, the spoken word, and those first steps. Before we know it we give our first kiss, lose our virginity, get our hearts broken. Yet all the time most of us are living the life that was prescribed in the most basic of forms even before that very first day we entered the world—as a man or as a woman.
Professor David Forbes does not fall into this basic category of ‘most of us’. For him, and many others, life isn’t that simple. He is a man who accepts that he is a man, but who is happier wearing make-up and a dress.
And now one of his student’s has discovered he is a crossdresser and is asking for his help.
David handed Hector the cup of tea and sat opposite him at the small table in his office. “Have you spoken to anyone else?”
“N—no. Just you. And, and it’s good of you to listen to me. It—it’s been a help to get it off my chest.” The stammer was beginning to creep back into Hector’s speech.Continue reading “The Dating Game – Part 8 – by Mollie Blake”
Snow And Skin
When David – AKA Diana – puts on the clothes he’d bought to go out dressed on the ski slopes Diana comes alive. This holiday on the slopes is going to get very hot.
David didn’t think he could do it, even after spending a fortune on tight-fitting ski pants and a mink coloured padded jacket with a fur-lined hood to die for, plus a pair of tortoise-shell Ray-Bans where the salesman had obviously seen him coming! There was no way Diana could go skiing in the French Alps.
But here she was. Standing in the boot room complete with hair gel, lipstick and mascara. No one batted an eyelid. The waiter had even held the door open for her at breakfast this morning.
David grabbed his skis, ran his tongue over lips coated in ruby red lipstick and headed onto the slopes for another day cruising down snowy mountains, with only the swishing sounds of his skis for company.Continue reading “The Dating Game – Part 6 – by Mollie Blake”
The Visitor from Outer…Place. Part 2
From Part 1
David closed his eyes and wanted nothing more than to escape to his bedroom and feel the cool silk of his new negligée next to his skin. It would look perfect with those slippers. He began to feel clammy. “I need a drink.”
Sandrine looked around and spied the kitchen. She handed the slippers to David. “Why don’t Lucy and I get the drinks while you go and make yourself more comfortable?”
David hesitated a moment. “Are you FtM?” …
Wait. He of all people should know better than to ask such a personal question to a woman he barely knew. And she was a work colleague. What the hell was he thinking?
He was about to apologise when Sandrine replied.
“I like to be fluide. I don’t put myself in just one ‘ole. Is that ‘ow you English say it?” Sandrine flashed her eyes at David before fixing them on Lucy.
Uncharacteristically Lucy had been silent for the past minute and a half, her nerves possibly still reverberating from asking Sandrine if she was a lesbian. Now her eyes were on David, and he couldn’t help thinking she was worried for him. Well let her be!
He needed space to breathe. “I think you mean ‘box’ but ‘hole’ works too. Help yourselves.”
“Oh, come on,” said Lucy, heading to the kitchen, never one to hide her impatience, or linger at the back of the queue when there was a glass of wine to be had.
The Visitor from Outer…Place. Part 1
“Why can’t Professor Daniels take her to lunch? It’s his department she’s come to visit. I know bugger all about 17th century French poets!” David heard his secretary’s long sigh on the other end of the phone.
“Professor Daniels has to complete his paper on ‘Horses in the Middle Age—”
“Has to complete his paper? He’s been writing that thing for the last five years.”
“Well, he says it’s urgent now.”
It was David’s turn to sigh. After catching a brief glimpse of Madame Lafayette with Daniels, he could understand why the professor may well wish to finish the paper he wished he’d never started. At five foot two and almost as round as he was tall, the professor was in his early sixties, wore a bow tie and waistcoat daily, and regarded anyone who didn’t know the French poet, Jean Chapelain, as something you might have the misfortune to find on the bottom of your shoe. The university’s guest from Paris, on the other hand, was tall and skinny with poker straight, raven black hair, and he guessed, in her mid-thirties. Her black tailored trouser suit accentuated her ghoulishly pale skin, and David couldn’t help thinking she resembled a teacher of the dark arts in a Harry Potter novel. No doubt she knew all there was to know about Jean C, but Daniels was probably scared stiff of her.
A Singapore Sling
In the third part of Mollie’s story we continue to follow David, or ‘Diana’ and Lucy. Part 1 can be found here.
“You’ve got a free trip to Singapore? You lucky sod!”
David’s best friend, Lucy, had him chuckling into his phone. “Yeah, but hey! I have to work for it.”
“Work, my arse! You’re just gonna chat about your precious topic on some quantum physics shite, and then have a ball with whoever’ll fondle yours for you.”
“Fat chance of that with Singapore’s lack of LGBT rights. Anyway, I’m scheduled to give three lectures with Professor Amanda Lo. I’ll be flying home before I know it.”
David cast a quick glance at the sleek turquoise gown hanging on the back of the door. At the very least he planned on having an evening out, just for himself, with the chance to be who he wanted to be.
“You’re just jealous.” He laughed, relaxed now that he was almost ready to leave his apartment for five days. “I promise I’ll bring you something back.”
“It had better not be chlamydia.”
“Ha bloody ha.”
In the second part of Mollie’s story we continue to follow David, or ‘Diana’ and Lucy. Part 1 can be found here.
David ripped the last length of wax from his leg, wincing only slightly and pressing his hand against the newly smoothed skin to relieve the sting.
A broad smile smile stretched across his face as he remembered his first encounter with a spatula of wax and strip of tape.
David shot bolt upright on the makeshift massage table. “Fucking hell! That hurt!”
There was no compassion from the sadist already applying another strip of hot wax—was Lucy sure it had to be this hot?—to the next stretch of hair on his leg.
This was a bad idea. Why didn’t he just stick to the black leggings? They felt good on him, beneath the grey chiffon dress.
“Come on, don’t be a wuss. Are you gonna’ man up to be the woman of your dreams?”
“Argh!” Wince, wince. Maybe he’d just have one leg done today, the other next week?
But Lucy’s torture was relentless. “Keep still, or I’ll have to go over that bit again.”
David could hear the taunting in her voice. For a petite five foot nothing slip of a lass she was a formidable character. It would make her day to keep him here all afternoon, subjected to burning pain, followed by everlasting smarting.
I am thrilled to introduce you to Mollie Blake, a wonderful writer from England’s west country. In this, her first piece for FionaDobson.com she’s going to lead you through a story telling the tantalizing crossdressing story of a date night to remember. You can find more of her stories at MollieBlake.com
The Dating Game – by Mollie Blake
Find all episodes of The Dating Game HERE.
“Professor Forbes, I’ve got a…er…Lucinda de Vilish on the phone for you.”
David glanced up to check his office door was closed. “Thanks, Edwina. Put her through.”
“Professor Forbes. This is Lucinda de Vilish.”
Before responding he waited for the “click” to make sure his inquisitive secretary had put her phone down. “Lucy. You’ve rung me at work! This had better be a matter of life or death.”
“Well, hi, David. How nice to hear from you! And it is a matter of life, and my future happiness.”
“So what’s that then?”
“I’ve set us up on a double date.”
“A double date?” The frown David had been wearing for most of the day so far, slowly morphed into a broad smile. He pressed his hand over the top of his dark grey trousers.
“Oh, come on! You know you want to. It’ll be fun. I met this guy and his friend in the bar last night. I said we’d see them tonight. At Don Antonio’s, your favourite Italian. You can pick me up at 7.30…and David, I’m relying on you. 7.30 okay?”
“What if I’ve got plans—”
The line had gone dead.
Who was he kidding anyway? Lucy knew he didn’t have plans. During semesters, the only thing he had going on was teaching a bunch of students about quantum technology. He focused on the report he had been writing with renewed zest—his day had just got better.
The text message which just landed on David’s phone read:
~ I’ll meet you at Larry’s Bar in town. 8pm. Don’t be late, Karen x
David tucked himself into his lilac cami-knickers before pulling on a pair of jeans and T shirt. There was just enough time to take off the crimson red nail polish before making his way to the bar to meet his friend.
It had been ages since Professor David Forbes had last seen Karen, and he was looking forward to catching up over a meal and a bottle of wine. They both studied at Cambridge and had dated for a while, but the sexual attraction inevitably morphed into platonic respect. Although Karen enjoyed a bit of kinky fun in the bedroom, her repertoire didn’t quite reach the heady heights of dating a cross-dresser. Of course, David at the tender age of nineteen hadn’t intended to reveal his dark side, his ‘Diana‘, to anyone at the university. Despite first acknowledging his feminine side when he was about sixteen, David’s relationship with Diana had still been very much at its experimental stage during his first year in Cambridge.
A compelling urge mixed with curious desire gave birth to many experiments—underwear, dresses, makeup—all strictly between David and the four walls of his student residence. Oh, and the full length mirror he had acquired for next to nothing from the local junk shop.
There was just that one exception.
One evening, Karen had arrived at his room a full hour earlier than expected, only to catch him in mascara and lipstick, together with a black thong and matching cropped top. Shock, horror and yelling eventually gave way to heart-to-heart confessions. David would never deny who he was and who he wanted to be; Karen would never claim she could cope with that.Continue reading “In a tight spot – By Mollie Blake.”