Kyle

That had been the most unsettling lunch! A desaster! - Or was it not?
Kyle glanced at his face in the mirror. No, his inner turmoil did not show. Thank God! Training and make-up held out. But his terror and excitement were nonetheless real! In a minute, he had to go up! Meet Lord Eldenham in his private chambers.

Lord Eldenham was the patron and chairman of the Foundation. It was at his mansion where the foundation held its event in honour of the excellent pupils it sponsored.

Kyle was one of them. A substantial grant had been made to his school, rewarding the fact that, for a change, a girl had won the annual math competition. Kyle. The problem was, Kyle was not a girl. The school and his family had been complicit in concealing this “detail”, in order to benefit of the funding. So far it had worked. Until today, when the foundation wanted to meet its grantees in person and be shown a demonstration of their prowess. All duly framed in a social event with distinguished guests, lunch, dinner, ball-night and so on.

In face of the foundation's pretense, Kyle's school and parents had decided to prepare him to participate as the girl he was expected to be. He was dispensed from attending class and spent the next six weeks in beauty parlours, with dressmakers, hairdressers and, above all, receiving a special behaviour training, administered by his headmaster's wife, who opportunely ran an institute dedicated to prepare young girls of better circles for their appearance in society. His subjects were now proper dressing, ballroom dance, table manners, polite conversation, all designed to turn an inept teenager into a charming young lady. Kyle had exceeded expectations. He had learned easily. He had discovered wearing pretty dresses made him feel light and happy, and behaving in a girly way too. He also revealed himself as innocently flirtatious, yet never transcending the boundaries of decorum, which was endearing and led his tutors to be confident of his success, especially with older men. That was very good. Lord Eldenham was an older man, known to be open to the charm of young girls.

Thus he had arrived this morning. Nervous, of course, but excited and confident. The public demonstration of his math skills lay already behind him and had went well as expected.

Then there had been lunch. He'd been seated at the table to the right of the great man. An honour, he understood. But here his trouble had begun. Eventually, Kyle felt the man's hand on his knee! A shock! An electrifying sensation. The blood had rushed to his face. People certainly had noticed it, but Kyle hoped they could not likely guess the reason. And of course everyone pretended not to notice.

The hand had remained still for a moment. Then it began to move. Slowly, it pushed the hem of his dress upwards. Kyle did not know what to do. He waited a couple of seconds, literally scared stiff. Then, timidly, his own hand took his molestor's arm and tried to remove it. But the Lord was strong and confident. He simply grabbed the young girl's wrist himself and put it delicately, but firmly, above the table. It seemed the most natural gesture, a polite correction of a minor failure in the girl's behaviour. Her hand had been redirected by her senior to where it belonged: on the table.

But it was not over. After a little while, Kyle felt the hand on his thigh again. This time it was playing with the dress, softly rubbing its tissue on his naked legs. A caress. The effect was even more embarrassing. His heart began to race, and he felt a stir where, for God's sake, nothing should stir! Paralyzed, excited, Kyle waited for the inevitable to happen. The Lord's hand moved up, exploring the inner side of his thighs, finally reached his beautiful, frilly panties, and felt the boy's pulsating member inside.

Kyle saw table, guests, the whole salon waver and blur in front of his eyes, as he almost fainted of shame - and arousal.

The Lord, for his part, did not loose composure for a second. After exploring the boy's shamefully telling private parts for what seemed an eternity to Kyle, he withdrew his hand.

In perfectly polite conversational manner, he directed himself to his neighbour: What a surprisingly exotic girl you are! After lunch, meet me in my private rooms on the first floor. I am sure we will be having a very pleasurable conversation about your future.