You Are the Reason (33 page)

I pulled into my driveway and texted him back.
I still have dreams about that flirty red bow in your hair from the first night. And you now have 53 minutes until I’ll be at your house.

I hoped the silence from the other end of the phone meant he was getting ready.

I arrived at his place promptly, but Charlotte glared at me as she opened the door. She pursed her lips together and tried to scowl. It wasn’t convincing.

“I’m not sure if you are the most generous man I’ve ever met, or the stupidest.”

I was surprised. “Me? What did I do?”

Two elegant eyebrows rose as Charlotte crossed her arms across her chest. “My son rushes home today, in a mad flap, almost at the point of tears, because his boyfriend wants to take him out wearing a dress, and you have the temerity to ask what you did?”

Oh.

“My son, who has loved you from nearly the first night, and who worried that you would never accept all the facets of his personality, is now in his bedroom dithering over whether to wear the ‘red dress’ or the ‘black one’ because he wants to impress you so much. And you waltz in here and wonder why I’m calling you stupid?”

Oh.

“My son, who goes out of his way to help other people who were born in the wrong body and can’t help but be who they really are, and yet sits in my kitchen once a week and tells me that
he
will change.
He
will shut down those parts of his personality because it makes the man he loves uncomfortable.”

God, I was a douche.

“So, I am going to stand here and glare at this man my son has fallen for, even though I promised myself not to get involved. I am going to ask him if he’s being generous and loving my son with an open heart? Or is he’s being a
dickhead
and setting my son up for a broken heart and humiliation?”

My eyes opened wide in shock as the swear word fell from Charlotte’s sweet and elegant lips. She was wearing cream again. Cream pants, a cream jacket over a muted gold-and-navy silk shirt, with pearls around her neck and in her ears, and her bright red hair in an elegant bun. She looked like a porcelain doll you’re not allowed to touch.

Well, too bad.

I yanked her into my arms for a mum hug that wrinkled her clothes, but I didn’t give a shit. I kissed her broadly and loudly on the cheek, and patted her on the back.

“I’m taking Lee to the trots. If I see a horse called ‘Mother Hen,’ I’ll bet on her for you.” I released her and surveyed her new rumpled and shocked appearance. “Say, I’m becoming a godfather in a couple of weeks’ time. Do you and Howard want to come and see a baby baptized? My friend, Jake, tells me it’s a gay-friendly church, so he and Patrick shouldn’t get too much of a cold shoulder for being a gay couple with a baby, but I’m sure we could do with some support. How about it?”

Charlotte’s shock was wearing off, and she smoothed down her jacket while she gave me a decidedly evil eye. “I think you’re going to be one hell of a son-in-law, David Pederson. And yes, of course. I would love to see the baby baptized.” She checked her hair with her hand and shooed me away. “Now go and find Lee. I’m sure he’ll be atrociously late if there’s not someone to hurry him up.”

Purely because I wanted to ruffle her feathers, I dove in again with the cheek kiss, then bounded up the stairs to Lee’s room. I knocked loudly. He was already dressed, which disappointed me greatly, but I supposed I’d get to see what was under the dress later on that night.

“Dave,” he greeted me, and I took in the outfit—the same one from our first meeting.

“Now that brings back some good memories.” I grinned at him as I checked out the dress. His (obviously fake) long fingernails were painted bright red, and I couldn’t remember if they had been done on that first night. My gaze stopped at the hemline of his dress. My thoughts turned dirty. “Tucked or untucked?” I asked.

He blushed. But didn’t answer. I checked out the hem again and remembered what he’d said to baby Maxine all those weeks ago. Yes. I was sure he was untucked under there.

“Show me,” I murmured, closing his bedroom door behind me.

His eyes went wide. “Dave. We can’t,” he hissed at me.

But I wanted the full effect of my boyfriend in a dress. “Flash me.”

“No.” He sounded scandalized.

I gave him a long look. “Flash me, or else I’m going to have to come over there with my hands and discover for myself. And once my hands are involved, as well as my eyes, there are no guarantees of me stopping.”

I could see him working through the pros and cons. Eventually he said, “Fine. Sit over on the bed, and I’ll stand over here where you can’t reach.”

My arse was parked on that bed in an instant. Lee walked to the door near the bathroom, and I checked out the rear view. Usually when I looked at Lee from behind, I was focused on his butt in whatever skintight pants he was wearing. But it was hidden and covered by the flared skirt of his dress. This made me check out other parts—like his long legs and the nape of his neck. The dress gave the illusion of womanly curves, but I was hot knowing that it was all man under there.

My man.

Lee stopped and faced me. I was already hard in my pants. “Don’t move,” he warned me. I had no intention of moving. I was ready for the show.

He took it slow and ran his hands, with those red tipped talons, down the fabric of the dress, to the skirt. Then he bunched the material slightly in his hand. My mouth went dry. He lifted the material until I could see there was another layer under the black-and-white checkerboard pattern. It was lace netting, and I realized it was what gave the skirt its flared shape. Then Lee drew the material up his legs, and I stopped worrying about unimportant things like material and dress shapes.

I swallowed loudly and watched in rapt attention. His legs, which were usually slightly furry, were now smooth and silky, and I couldn’t wait to get my hands on them. Later, I promised myself.

As the dress came up, I went harder than an iron rod. Holy fuck. How could this be so exciting?

He was wearing white underwear, but it wasn’t Bonds or Rio or any of those masculine brands with their tough, cotton, elastic materials that kept the masculine form from bouncing around. No. What Lee was wearing was smooth and slightly shiny. It had lacy bits on the side and was almost see-through.

“Shit.”

The expletive fell from my mouth as I fought my arousal. As I thought, Lee hadn’t tucked. I had a feeling that that lacy thing he was wearing was designed for women because his dick pushed at the material and it offered no support that I could see. And I could see a lot.

“Shit.”

Yes. That was about my brain power at that moment, because I was thinking about two things. My cock and his cock.

All too soon the material of the dress lowered again, but I could still see it. I looked up at Lee and found he was wearing a saucy smile. He knew what he was doing to me, and he was enjoying it.

I pushed on the erection tenting my pants. “You are going to be so fucked later tonight,” I promised him.

His pert little tongue came out to wet his lips. “I can’t wait. Now I need to go and do my makeup.”

Watching Lee do his makeup was a lesson in blue balls. I sat on the edge of the spa bath in his personal en suite and watched as the layers went on. Each time he leaned over to look closer in the mirror, I stared with hope at the hem of his dress. It never gave me any more flashes of white underwear, which, in the back of my mind, I was grateful for. If I knew that Lee could potentially flash me, and others, at the restaurant, I would be hard for the entire evening.

Finally his eyes and lips were done to his satisfaction, and he started on his hair. The little red bow went in, and he watched me in the mirror as he clipped it in. “One red bow, as requested,” he said.

I smiled.

“Great. Are you ready yet? The horsies await us.”

“Just let me get my shoes and bag.” He disappeared into that multicolored wardrobe of his, and I waited, happy and pleased that, no matter what he was wearing, he didn’t change.

He still couldn’t be on time for a date.

I
WATCHED
the crowds carefully as we made our way to the restaurant, waiting for some prick to suddenly yell, “Look at the guy in that dress.” But it was clear that Lee was successfully feminine. The only looks he got were of admiration.

I didn’t blame those men. Hadn’t I been fooled the first two times I’d met him? And goddammit—he looked fine in that dress.

I tried to see him as a woman, but all I could see was Lee. We held hands as we walked—slower than usual, due to his heels—to the restaurant. A cute waiter showed us to our table, and I took in the view of the racetrack from the nearby window. We studied the wine list and made our choices. Then we checked out the racing guide.

“Which horse are you going to go for in this race?” I asked him. The pacers were being led out onto the field to do a small warm-up lap.

“Hmm. Number six, I think. His name is ‘Whadda Man.’ Perfect.”

I laughed and cast my name down the choices. “Fine. I bet your man will be beaten by my ‘Silken Princess.’ I think the ladies rule tonight.”

Our drinks arrived as the horses were lined up on the mobile barrier. There was a thundering sound as they passed the section of track nearest to us, but then they were racing. I was watching the race, but Lee had his nose buried in the form guide.

“Do you know what?” he asked me. “Your horse and my horse have the same father. ‘Captive Prince’ is his name.”

I took my eyes off the race. “He’s not the only one captive, Lee.”

Both of our horses lost, coming in fifth and seventh. “Grand Mistake” won the race, and I wondered if that was indicative of our relationship. Lee was certainly the grandest mistake I’d ever made.

Dinner was lush and scrumptious, and I had to admit that dining with Lee-in-a-dress was not at all different from dining with Lee-as-a-man. Both of them were breathtaking in their beauty. Both of them made me laugh. In fact, I could hardly see the difference, apart from the fact that the lipstick drew my eyes to Lee’s mouth more often.

Which was hard for me. If you get what I mean.

We left just before the final race and went back to my house. This time we made it past the kitchen because I had something else in mind. I ushered Lee to the bedroom and made him stand in the middle of the room while I undressed. Then I climbed into the center of the bed and made myself comfortable against the pillows.

There was a knowing look on his face, and I felt self-conscious. “What?”

“You,” he said softly. “Have you never seen a person strip before? Male or female?”

“Not really,” I confessed with an embarrassed cough.

His voice was hushed in wonder. “Why not?”

“Too girly.”

And that needed no other explanation. He smiled at me. “Well, I guess it’s up to me to see to your education, then, huh?”

He didn’t realize the full extent of it, but I’d been growing and learning since the day I had met her.
Her
. Yes. My education had started with the words, “Not a Freo fan, then?” Lee had taught me so much about being gay, even when I thought he was a she.

While I had been lost in thought, Lee had taken his iPhone out of his little black handbag and was scrolling through something. Then the strains of “You Can Leave Your Hat On” suddenly blared out with its sexy opening.

For the next four minutes and ten seconds, I was entranced as Lee furthered my education. Since he was wearing a total of five items of clothing—if you counted his shoes as two pieces—those four minutes were rather long. And those red heels stayed on until last. I was treated to flashes of white lace underwear and hip swings until I was superhard and ready to explode.

I slowly rubbed my erection as I watched him remove his bra and shimmy out of that dress. Clad in only panties and red heels, he danced to the beat. As he turned, it was obvious that either the dance, the scenario, or the sight of me naked was having an effect on him. Probably all three. His dick was hard and peeking over the top of his little panties.

But still he danced. He spread his legs wide and undulated down. My jaw dropped. Then his fingers went to his hips and slipped into the elastic waistband, teasing as he pushed the material down an inch, then back up. He was totally teasing me, giving me glimpses of his hairless cock and balls, then covering them again with that bit of flimsy fabric. He rocked his hips back and forth, and I was instantly transported to that place where I could feel him surrounding me. When my cock was deep in his arse, and he was twisting and rocking on top of me.

He pushed down the white material and hooked it behind his balls while he swayed. My hand jerked faster as the image of him hiked my arousal level another notch. Then he was touching himself in the same way. I felt myself spurt and pinched the crown of my cock hard to stop from coming. He turned again and waved his butt at me, spreading his legs slightly as he pushed the material down to his ankles. My breathing stopped as he bent forward, allowing me to see his crack as he removed his underwear.