Her skin wasn’t quite what it might be, but that would be diet. The skin-tight white satin knee-breeches, with a trace of what I later learned was called a pantie-line, suited her if they suited anybody. There might be a touch of vanity there, if she wore those to a meeting she should want to be inconspicuous, but I still thought she was better-looking than she knew. She moved well too, in long, swinging strides, which I’ve always liked. Little was said until we reached a quiet riverside walk, and sat a chaste distance apart on a bench. ‘So tell me what you’ve got in mind.’ ‘Well, I’ve contacts in a jewellery business, up the Ayrshire coast. They know most of the local people with valuable jewellery. There’s a family we’ll call Hammond, whose jewellery they usually store in the safe. Most of the time Mrs. Hammond wears copies, very much like this.’ I handed her one of my zirconia rings. You learn a lot by seeing how a person reacts to jewellery, and Tiffany was exactly right –. This had to remind me every day, at the start of theday, that I was his. Every one of those kisses would send waves of pureelectricity through my whole body. They charged the jewel with a spiritualenergy that would then be slowly released throughout the day. While mybrain was now wired as that of a woman, a woman in love, my body (I likedto think it was the result of the figurative pregnancy I was in) was alsoexperiencing great change. For the next two months, my breasts were verytender, almost blob-like. As had been the case at the start of mytransition, my nipples often hurt even when just brushed against. OnlyMustafa's kisses could soothe such discomfort. At the end of the fourthmonth into my transition, he had spent words of admiration for my veryproportioned breasts, tasting and looking absolute female in every detail.He had called them "perfect" and desired that they would always remainlike that. But Mustapha knew all too well I wasn't going to content myselfwith average.
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