Decision Made - Part 2

When Beckie used that syrupy sweet voice on him, George knew that it could presage an eruption that could rivals Mount Vesuvius. He braced himself for the possible explosion and its inevitable fallout. In this case, Beckie contained her anger and calmly said, “George, go pour us a couple of stiff drinks. We need to have a talk.”

Hearing those dreaded words, George knew he was in trouble. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that the shit was about to hit the fan. On top of that, Beckie seldom drank hard liquor and never in the afternoon.

George could guess why today was different but hoped from the bottom of his heart he was wrong. There was only one way to find out. George quickly made his way to the den’s liquor cabinet and poured them each three fingers of his best Scotch. With his heart racing, he returned to the kitchen where Beckie sat at the dinette impatiently tapping her foot. He placed the glasses on the table and took a seat opposite his wife.

Beckie took a long pull on her drink and then stared George right in the eyes. She asked with an impish grin, “So, how was your trip? Anything interesting happen?”

Not waiting for an answer, she slid the tabloid newspaper that June had left over to him and opened it to the headlines. ‘Mystery woman, known as Ms. Crystal McKnockers walks away from 25 million dollars.’ George felt faint, thinking ‘Oh my God my life is over.’ Not knowing how right he was.

“How are you feeling dear? You’re looking a little pale.” Beckie spoke in a neutral tone with just a hint of hostility. Not waiting for a response, she continued, “Now I want some answers and if I even think you’re lying to me, I’ll throw your ass out and you will never see me or your children again!”

Beckie picked up her glass, this time taking only a sip to wet her dry throat, then she started in on her interrogation in earnest. Tapping the picture of a woman bent over picking up off the floor what appeared to be the magic quarter. Her nickname must have been earned by the fact her impressively large breasts were spilling out of the top of her low-cut dress. “Is that floozy you?”

Now it was George’s turn. He picked up his glass and swallowed down about half of it looking to gain some liquid courage for what lie ahead. “Yes dear, but I can explain.”

That only instigated an irritated rejoinder, “Explain my ass, there is only one explanation! I’m married to the world’s dumbest asshole. I’d ask what you were thinking, but it’s obvious you weren’t thinking at all. Okay shit-for-brains, go ahead and explain. This should be interesting.”

Beckie was the quintessential church lady, her use of profanity and her belittling language told George all he needed to know about her anger. Of all the things he envisioned his wife attacking him for, George wasn’t expecting his intelligence to be challenged.

Beckie was red in the face now, daggers shooting out of her eyes.

“Tell me how you could just up and leave all that money sitting there? I want to strangle you! I thought I knew you, I never realized how selfish you could be. I’m so disappointed in you for not considering your family before you beat feet and left that fortune sitting there. Think what that money would mean for me and the children. You selfish bastard!”

Then she tapped the picture threateningly and added, “Or looking at your portrait maybe bitch is more appropriate.”

George was flabbergasted, his wife seemed to be more upset that he didn’t claim his prize, than about the fact that he won the money dressed as a woman. This was the first time she had even mentioned how he was dressed.

She leaned forward a bit as she asked, “Tell me why you walked away from our future?”

“I’m sorry, Beckie. Because of the way I was dressed, I was afraid how you and the kids would react. I didn’t want to embarrass you and the children by having the world know your husband and their father dresses up as a woman..”

Beckie gave a slight giggle, “Just who were you afraid would be embarrassed, us or you? And just how embarrassed do you think I’ll be taking that money to the bank, to pay off the mortgage and having money to send the kids to the finest private schools?”

George stammered, “I was a man dressed as a woman. The ramifications of that were my main concern. You can always earn more money, but once you lose your dignity it’s gone forever.”

Beckie could follow that reasoning, but she was too worked up to let George off the hook. “Yes, it’s a big deal. I’ll grant you that the children will be devastated. But this isn’t the same culture our parents grew up in. Hell, metrosexual is all the rage. But what’s a little humiliation compared to what 25 million dollars can do for us?

“Let me be honest here. I suspect your main concern was about preserving your precious male pride. You were afraid of being outed as a sissy cross dresser. The kids and I were a secondary or even a tertiary concern.”

George was flustered, there might be some truth to her charge. “You are partially correct I was concerned about how the neighbors and our friends might react. However, you are wrong about my primary apprehension. Our marriage and the children mean more to me than all of our friends and neighbors or even my pride.”

Beckie sneered at his response, “To hell with the neighbors, if our friends turn away from us because you wear skirts, then good riddance to them. They would not be the friends we thought they were.”

George had prepared himself to defend his dressing and now Beckie was being so nonchalant about the whole thing he was lost, his head hurt. He decided to take the bull by the horns and jumped right in.

“Beckie, aren’t you going to ask me about wearing the dress.”

His wife frowned at him. “You mean other than the fact you lack any fashion sense? Of course, when girls like you are out trolling for tricks, I guess fashion is the last thing on your mind.”

She obviously did not understand. “Damn it no! You have it all wrong. I wasn’t looking for any male companionship.”

Beckie tapped the newspaper again. “Then how do you explain the pictures on page two of you hanging off some studs arm? You sure looked chummy. I will grant you have good taste in men. From his picture, he looks like a real hunk. A keeper as they say, in today’s vernacular. I sure wouldn’t kick him out of my bed. Can you claim the same?”

George about fell off his chair after his wife’s observation. “It wasn’t like that. You have to believe me!”

She sat back in the chair and studied him. She was starting to have fun.

“I’ll tell you what, I will believe my eyes. The lady doth protest too much, methinks. Take a look at those pictures from the security cameras. All I see is a guy with his trophy girlfriend drinking, gambling, and carousing in a Vegas casino. Can you honestly tell me you didn’t feel anything being with him?”

George nodded.

“You’re right. I did get a thrill that this guy wanted me. However, it wasn’t a sexual thrill like you are implying. It was more of a vanity thing. With his looks and money, he could have had any number of women. Yet he chose me. He made me feel pretty. I spent a lot of time and effort to create that look. No one had ever seen me dressed as a woman, so it was exhilarating to think I could look not only passable but attractive. So, shoot me for being a narcissist.

“We bumped into each other as I outside of the casino. He offered to buy me a drink. I was flattered so I accepted and things just got out of hand. Every time I turned around one of the cocktail waitresses were handing me a fresh drink. By the time I left I was felling no pain. The problem was that he started winning money at the tables and decided I was his good luck charm and wouldn’t let me get more than a few feet away.”

Beckie huffed, “Good luck charm, your sweet ass! He was thinking about getting lucky in other ways than at the craps table.”

George blushed. He had to make his wife see that sure there was some flirtatious banter between them. But nothing more. “There may be some truth there. But the thought wasn’t reciprocated. I am not gay!”

From the look on Beckie’s face he could tell she still wasn’t convinced, he tried again.

“Honey you have to believe me. I have no interest in men. I just have this…. need to dress and express my feminine side.”

Beckie sneered at him.

“There you go being stupid again. Even a dullard like you has to know woman dress to impress and to attract the attention of the male of the species, that’s the nature of the thing. You can deny it all day long. But your decision to dress as a slut was at least partially based on the desire to attract attention. It may have been at some subliminal level but there is no denying it. Just look at that picture, that is a woman out looking for action.”

Now George was getting upset. His wife was challenging his sexual orientation. He hated quarrelling but couldn’t let her charges go unchallenged. “No, no! you have it all wrong! Check it out, do some research. Most cross dressers are heterosexual.”

Beckie smiled when he left off the word males. She knew what he meant but was enjoying putting her husband on the defensive so she retorted, “Heterosexual woman is what I think you meant to say.”

“Please, you have that all wrong. Aren’t you upset finding out I like to dress as a woman?”

Beckie shrugged.

“Oh, that. I’ve known or at least suspected for years that you like to dress in woman’s clothes and wear makeup. I am just shocked you had the nerve to go out in public looking like a tramp. I thought you confined your ‘Look at me, how pretty I am,’ activities to the mirror in your hotel room.”

She had to smile at the look on her husband’s face.

“Don’t look so shocked. Yes, I know about it. At the company social functions, the wives talk. You have the reputation of being a bit of a recluse on business trips. First chance you get, you’re off to your room, not to be seen until morning. If there was a woman coming and going from your room, it would be noticed and duly reported. You dress and aren’t seen leaving your room ergo, you spend your time in your room in front of a mirror. The guys who go out to look for a little strange on your trips are well known among the wives. You are not one of them, I know you would never cheat on me, at least with another woman. Until now I never worried about losing you to a man.”

Now he felt really lost.

“I don’t see where I went wrong hiding my …. hobby.”

Beckie finished off her drink. “You thought you were being so careful. George I may be a blonde, but I do have an IQ higher than room temperature. Call it women’s intuition or just a keen sense of observation. A wife just knows these things.

“It wasn’t any one thing, but rather an accumulation of small things over time that exposed your perversion. Like coming home with a little extra color to your lips, failure to get all the mascara off your lashes, a hint of perfume when you came to bed after a road trip. I have known or at least suspected about your extracurricular activities for several years.”

George relaxed and thought he might escape yet. He couldn’t have been any further from the truth. “My dressing doesn’t bother you?”

“Of course, it bothers me. For heavens’ sake! The man I married, rather than play golf, wears panties, high heels and dresses for fun. You may not be going to hell for it, but I certainly wasn’t going to advertise it either. I was willing to keep quiet about it. As long as you kept your dressing to your road trips and didn’t bring it home, I was content to turn a blind eye to it. Out of sight, out of mind kind of thinking, I guess you can say.

“After a long road trip, you seemed so much more relaxed and less up-tight. It served a function. Made you more pleasant to live with and a better father. I decided to let sleeping dogs lie.”

Beckie handed Georgie her empty glass and waited for him to return with her refill.

“Now you’ve come stumbling out of the closet and into the spotlight. Things are going to have to change. For heaven’s sake, we live in a small town! You sneeze around here and everyone knows by dinner time the color of your hankie. How long do you think it will be before my parents, our friends, and the ladies at church find out about your cross dressing?”

“Beckie, no one needs to know,” George pleaded.

Beckie sighed deeply, “There you go being naive again. Because you did not claim that jackpot right away, you essentially made yourself a national oddity. People are going to wonder. June gave me her copy of that gossip rag and asked me if you had a twin sister. The casino is offering a cash reward to find the mystery woman. It won’t take long before one of our acquaintances puts two and two together and turns you in. Our family will be devastated from the publicity.”

Beckie, knew the solution, now she had to do was get her husband to agree.

“George, the only thing we can do is have Crystal return voluntarily and claim her prize. We need to get you into your womanly garb and back to Las Vegas quickly. With her out of hiding the mystery is solved, that will stop people from investigating.”

George’s head spun, “I’m a little overwhelmed, Beck. I thought you would be upset from a biblical standpoint. It seems all you want to discuss is the practical.”

It took Beckie a minute to ascertain what he was getting at. “You mean the passages in Deuteronomy?”

George nodded. “Yes, exactly.”

She returned his nod. “George, I have a degree from a Bible college and we did more than memorize passages. We studied them. When you actually look at Deuteronomy 22:5, cross-dressing is a term that is not used in the good book. It was about men dressing in women’s clothing and vice versa. In its proper context, God commands ‘that a woman is not to wear that which pertains to a man and a man is not to wear that which pertains to a woman.’ Too many closed-minded people take that literally. The Bible isn’t a fashion text. It doesn’t dictate what clothes are appropriate for men to wear, it is a probation against men doing so for devious reasons, like pretending to be woman to get out of service in the Army. Unless you intend to show up at the draft board in a dress and heels, I don’t see how that applies to your activities.”

George liked the direction this discussion was going so he mustered the courage to inquire, “Can I ask, are we good?”

Beckie gave her answer some serious thought before she replied. “George, I have been in love with you since our first date. We have had some really good years together. I had always seen myself growing old with you. Am I happy that I am married to a closet sissy, certainly not? That is an issue we will need to work through after you come back from Vegas with the money. Our future is no longer as clear as it once was for me.”

She took another swallow of her drink. “You’re a great father. Our children love you and need you in their lives. I am not sure how we are going to do that at the moment. We will take it one step at a time.”

The relief George felt was like a weight being lifted. “Thanks, I would die being cut out of their lives. How about us?”

‘I assume you are talking about us living as husband and wife. That is much more complicated, I’m afraid. Of one thing I am certain, I’m not a lesbian. There is no way Crystal will ever share my marital bed. Can I let George into my bed? At the moment, I don’t honestly know. When I look at you, I don’t see a man or my husband anymore. I can’t get that picture of that woman out of my head. I can’t see how I can be married to a woman, even a part time one!”

George started to cry, tears leaking out of his eyes in torrents. “But I am the same person, just in different clothes, please don’t throw away our marriage.”

Beckie maintained a stoneface as she said, “We’ll talk about what our future looks like when you get home with the money. If you don’t get the money, just keep going there is no place here for you. I assume you still have that outfit. It’s not in the house because I would have found it at some point.”

Subdue, George replied, “Yes dear, I have a storage locker where I keep all my feminine things.”

“Good you’ll need it when you fly back to Vegas.”

@ @ @ @

“What! You’re crazy if you think I am going to fly anywhere dressed like that.”

Beckie had just informed George how things needed to play out for Crystal to claim her jackpot. The first item was that Crystal would be the one flying into Las Vegas, not George.

Beckie sat up in her chair and took control, “Look. They are looking for a woman named Crystal. If she shows up at the airport, there will be a lot fewer questions than if she just pops into the Casino. If they ask why you didn’t stick around, just feed them some cock and bull story about going home to get a financial advisor before claiming your winnings.”

That sounded logical to George and he nodded in agreement.

“That makes sense, but I would need ID to get on an airplane.” He thought that he had won that argument. Airport security was incredibly tight these days. No ID no plane ride.

He had again underestimated his wife.

She calmy asked, “Who did Crystal’s makeup?”

“I did it myself,” he answered proudly.

But pride goes before the fall. George was doomed and he did not see it coming.

Beckie stood and pointed toward their bedroom. “Good, go into our room and recreate your look as close as possible. I have more than sufficient cosmetics for your transformation. There is also that old wig in the back of my closet left over from Halloween a few years ago. It’s not the same style, but that’s okay. Women are always changing their look.”

George glanced at the clock and asked, “What about the kids?”

“Mike is spending the night at my parents’ house. Your daughter has a sleep over at a friend’s house.”

@ @ @ @

An hour later, George was preoccupied while Beckie assembled the outfit he would wear back to Vegas. After a quick phone call to an old high school friend, Beckie sat on edge of the bed and watched her husband work. She was truly amazed at how well he handled her beauty products. When he was finished, she gave him a thorough examination. She saw nothing to complain about or to correct, so they moved on to getting him dressed.

She stuffed his bra with old panty house and he looked the part of a frightened runaway lottery winner. Her wig had a small wig cap and he was having difficulty settling it in place. “Come on Crystal, shake a leg. We’ve got places to go and people to see.”

George didn’t like the sound of that. “I demand to know where we are going!”

Beckie smiled and merely replied, “Demand is a pretty strong word under the current circumstances missy. Ask me no questions and I will tell you no lies. You look fine, let’s get going.”

She threw a purse at him and dragged her reluctant princess out of the house and to the family minivan.

There first stop was at a local drug store that had the facilities for making passport photos. He nervously posed for his portrait. After that, they drove to the local DMV. Crystal remained in the car while Beckie paid a visit on her old friend. Thirty minutes later she returned with a spanking new driver’s license with Crystal’s face on it and their family name. She had briefly thought about giving her husband a different last name, her maiden name seemed appropriate. After thinking it through he would have to provide his real social security number, using the last name associated with number would raise fewer questions.

“Here you go, put that in your purse. Let’s go home and you can make reservations for a return trip pack to Vegas. I’ll drive you to the airport. We can stop and pickup what feminine things you’ll be needing.”

@ @ @ @

The next day, they drove the 45 minutes to the airport for Crystal’s trip. Who was not a happy camper. It started when Beckie insisted that he travel wearing high heels. He tried to explain people don’t dress formally on planes anymore.

Beckie countered, “It isn’t about the travel but about the exit.”

So he left the house wearing his wife’s three-inch heels that were two sizes too small. The drive to his storage locker for the suitcase that held Crystal’s wardrobe was pure agony. The first thing he did was to exchange Beckie’s too-small shoes for the ones Crystal had worn. It was strange that trading three-inch heels for 5-inch ones were a relief to his feet. At Beckie’s suggestion, he retrieved his Crystal wig which was a brilliant idea. Its large wig cap resulted it on settling more naturally on his head.

He was less enthusiastic about her second proposal. One of Crystal’s most identifiable characteristics were her chest size. If he showed up with melons the size of oranges instead of cantaloups, some uncomfortable questions might arise. Unfortunately, her logic made complete sense, so he grudgingly complied and removed the stuffing in Beckie’s bra and replace it with the oversized breast forms. It was immediately apparent to George that filling a C-cup bra and replacing them with the D-sized forms that had given Crystal’s distinctive shape was more than a fashion faux pas. As much as he tried to adjust the straps there was no way he could get comfortable. As they were running late to get to the airport, Beckie didn’t give him sufficient time to adjust his assets to where they were comfy, nor to change his brassiere. She hurried him to the car, more concerned he might miss his flight than his apparent discomfort. Walking in his stiletto heels only exacerbated the condition as the fleshy orbs bobbed up and down and wiggled side to side. All he could think of was the old saying about 10 pounds of shit in a 5-pound bag.

The movement of the cramped car only served to remind him of their weight and the way they irritatingly refused to stay still in his bra. Whenever Beckie glanced over he was compulsively fidgeting with his bra trying to get them to settle down. Whenever Beckie attempted to make conversation, her efforts were meet with only grunts.

His negative attitude only served to piss off Beckie. In her mind, this was all his making and he had no right to be a gloomy Gus. She finally had enough and pulled off the interstate and pulled into a minimart.

A bewildered George asked, “What the fuck are you doing now?”

“Watch your language, that is no way for a lady to talk. You’ve been acting like you have a case of PMS. It must be your time of the month. So, I thought we would stop and you could go purchase whatever feminine hygiene products you use to get you through this period.”

“That’s not funny, Beckie.”

“Funny or not you’ll be back in less than a week and if you are still being a pain in the ass, I will see to it your ass will be in pain. Now I am serious, get in there, buy a box of tampons, and put a couple in your purse. If anyone looks in there, and they probably will going through security, they would expect a woman of breeding age to always have some available. Get going or you will miss your flight!

“If you fight me on this, you’ll be wearing one of those up your ass for the flight, and your purse will have pantyliners and condoms in it!”

@ @ @ @

Once they reached the airport, Beckie pulled up to allow George to reluctantly climb out of the car. When he leaned over to kiss her goodbye, Beckie turned her head and all he got was a cheek. As he walked off, she yelled after him, “Come back with the money, or don’t come back at all.”

As he disappeared into the terminal, Beckie got out her phone and called the local ABC affiliate for Las Vegas, providing them with the flight information concerning the mystery woman. George would be mortified to be greeted by a news team and their camera, but she had a good reason for it. While the casino was showing that they were looking for the mysterious Crystal, they might very well resort to denying that George was the person they were looking for. By getting Crystal on the news as some sort of human-interest story, casino would be hard-put to refuse to award that check. After all, it was a lot of money.

George waited in line to go through the security check-in, he had his license with his feminine picture on it. Still, he was nervous about passing a close scrutiny. The thought of being publicly pulled out of line as an imposter caused his heart to race uncontrollably. To make things worse he felt himself tinkle into his panties. Perspiration ran down his forehead and into his eyes, causing them to sting. Using the back of his hand he wiped his eyes, making a mess of his mascara. It turned out his apprehensions were for naught. The guard gave him and his ID only a perfunctory examination and waved him right through.

His first stop before his gate was a brief stop in the lady’s room. Luckily, it was unoccupied and he made it to a stall. With some difficulty he managed to untuck and wiggle out of his foundation garments and he was able to sit. He had a long pee, hoping it will last until after his flight. He had enough trouble in the wide stall, the thought of repeating that in the narrow confines of an airplane was a bridge too far. He went to the sink, washed his hands, and spent several minutes repairing the damage to his makeup. In the past, putting on makeup was his happy place, but that wasn’t the case this time.

He wasn’t totally satisfied, but two women came in, George decided now was the best time to beat a hasty retreat. He gathered his cosmetics that he had scattered around the counter and hastily threw them into his purse. He only had a few minutes to wait before boarding started. He had bought an economy ticket. So, he was in the last group to board, then he had to walk the length of the aisle as his seat was in the very back. Maybe he was being paranoid, but he felt everyone in the plane was staring at him. Of course, the size of his breasts and the way they bobbled around with each step might have had something to do with that.

As he took his seat, he could only wonder what the future might bring. Good or bad, he was determined to see this thing through for his family’s sake.

To be continued