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My future wife's first time camping.

At the end of the hall were two doors, one labeled "Delivery Entrance" and the other with a nameplate on the door.

I stopped short. "I am such an idiot." Allan gave me a questioning look. "You're Mr. Allan Glover." The owner of the club. No wonder everyone had stopped to watch when he ran a scene. I couldn't believe he was interested in me. Allan Glover had looks, money, and a reputation as one of the best Doms in the area.

He probably won't be interested after my news, I thought to myself, and sighed. And the stakes had just increased, because if the club owner didn't want transgender men in his club, I'd never be able to come back. Even if I never played with anyone, I still enjoyed my visits here. The last couple gay clubs I'd been to hadn't been specifically BDSM clubs, and I'd left anyway once my transgender status became widely known.

Allan seemed surprised. "You really didn't know? I thought you just didn't want to mention it." I shook my head. "Well," he said with a smile, "I guess I've still got what it takes to pick up an attractive young thing like you. You can never tell if someone is just interested in you because of money, these days."

I nodded again, unsure of how to respond. Allan used a second key to open his office door, then took my arm to lead me inside. The office wasn't as luxuriously furnished as I expected, but it wasn't shabby either. In the center of the room was a large wooden desk with various papers and office supplies scattered across its surface. Behind the desk and associated chair was a wall of bookshelves and filing cabinets. The opposite wall had the door through which we had just entered and a worn blue sofa. Another door on the side wall looked as though it led to a small bathroom.

Allan sat down on the sofa, pulling me with him. At this point, my anxiety levels were running very high at this point. Telling people that I'm transgender isn't easy for me under the best of circumstances, and this situation was hardly ideal. Allan took both my hands in his and looked into my face.

"You're scared. More scared than when I started our scene." He said. I nodded, mute, and dropped my eyes, unable to meet his gaze. Allan shook his head at me. "No, Ray, that's not good enough. Talk to me." It was obviously an order.

I tried to swallow the golf ball that had suddenly sprung up in my throat. "I'm afraid you're going to hate me." I managed to croak, feeling tears welling up in my eyes. Shit, I was going to cry. I hate crying, especially around other people and double especially in front of other men. Allan just stroked the back of my hand and waited while I gathered myself.

After a moment, still studying the floor, I provided a follow-up to my first statement. "I don't want you to think I lied to you."

Allan looked mildly confused. "What would you have possibly lied to me about?" He fixed me with a piercing stare. "You aren't cheating on anyone by being with me, are you? Some twisted definition of fidelity where it's okay as long as nobody sees you naked?" Now he sounded angry. I really didn't want him angry at me.

I held up my hands. "No, sir!" I said quickly. "Nothing like that."

The deep, sexy voice came back, with its undertones of steel. "I have more exciting things planned for tonight than sitting on a couch together. Stop dancing around and talk to me. "

I wondered if those plans would change to throwing me out of his club forever once he knew the truth, but I couldn't stall anymore. I took a deep breath and blurted out "I'm transgender, sir."

Allan studied me, tilting his head to the side. "Yes?"

I squeezed my eyes shut and rubbed my face, trying to gather the words to explain myself without using jargon that he probably wouldn't understand.

"I'm female to male transgender.

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