See You on the Other Side (Part 1)

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See You on the Other Side
(Part 1)
By Sabrina G. Langton

***

Author's note: Here is an extra long story. It's about friendship, love, sex and Brooklyn. It makes me cry when I read it, when I need it, I hope YOU Like it...

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'I believe when I fall in love, with you it will be forever'

***

I loved the walk from the market. Listening to the music in my head.

Schermerhorn, Livingston, Fulton, Willoughby, I felt like I was in a musical. All the streets sounded so magical, I was always waiting for Barbra Streisand to pop out and surprise me, or Gene Kelly to run across the street and dance up the side of a building. A huge building, a semi skyscraper.

My building, my apartment complex was almost a skyscraper, two skyscrapers. I could see them looming from virtually every place I headed to in Downtown Brooklyn, it was my home for the last three years. My wife, Lillian, and I moved there six months after we were married.

I wanted to stay in Brooklyn.

I stopped, I could just make out my floor, my window, I counted nineteen floors up. I imagined I was looking out the window, waving, watching the woman with the long blonde hair and tan coat. Why was she posing in such high heels? Why was she outside on such a brisk September morning? Come on, why was she not waving to me? Maybe because she had on Dark Aviator glasses.

Ha. Wait. What am I thinking about, where is my mind wandering? I can barely see myself in the reflection of the deli window that I'm standing right in front of. Why am I just standing here anyway, holding all these bags? I want to get home, I want to try on a couple of dresses, see how they look with the new breast forms I just got.

***

Quickly, through the large ornate doors, a little wave to the doorman, up the elevator, a check in the hall, and a skip to my apartment. I was excited, I dropped the bags by the couch, left my coat on the floor, my heels in the hallway, and then my dark glasses on my dresser. Right next to a new box waiting to be opened. I couldn't wait to slip on these babies, I would now be a double D-cup. I would be so much bigger than Lillian, she had nice perky B's, I wanted something bigger, sexier. I wouldn't tell her I got these. She already thought I was too over the top, she didn't think I dressed like a real woman. She couldn't believe I went out once a week to go shopping in a dress. Lillian didn't really like that I crossdressed.

Come to think of it, Lillian didn't really like crossdressers. Who'd a guessed?

***

I worked for an import-export company, Aussie-Nox. I was home before three, four o'clock most weekdays, I even had off on Fridays. Friday's I became Sabrina. Friday was the day I loved, the day I got to try on and pose in all of my outfits. I had a closet full of them. We had a big apartment, I had a little bedroom and closet in the back. I loved it, it had a view of Brooklyn, looking toward Queens. Our master bedroom looked out on Manhattan, on the bridges. Lillian never looked out the window, she was always looking at her phone. She didn't know what she was missing.

Before we were married, Lillian wanted to move to India. She worked for Global Bank. Companies in Delhi, and Bangalore were her biggest clients.

I wanted to stay in Brooklyn.

Every Friday morning I went shopping. I went as a woman, took me a year before I got up the nerve. My neighborhood was so big and crowded, I realized no one would be looking too closely at the blonde in the glasses. My dark Aviators made me feel a little more inconspicuous. I wouldn't let anyone see my eyes, they could look at my legs, that was the best part of me anyway.

I bought ingredients for dinner. I cooked for the two of us most of the time. Tuesdays and Saturdays we usually went out, but Fridays were date night. I made something from a recipe book or something I found online, or sometimes I just experimented. We had drinks and dessert as well, it was nice, I liked to surprise her. Then later Lillian sometimes surprised me by letting me sleep with her.

My girl clothes were always locked in my bedroom before Lillian came home. I had to put my femininity far away from the dinner table while having a date night with the wife. I think she made believe I collected stamps or knives, or God forbid, Pokeman cards, I probably had a closet full of them.

***

The kitchen smelled amazing as I put my dinner plates on the table, they were my favorite things in the apartment. A friend sent them to me from India and I repainted the whole kitchen a light blue and gold to match them. I was making chicken cacciatore, I had a nice Italian Chianti and mozzarella with balsamic vinegar on the table just waiting to be tasted. I heard the door.

"I'm home!" I heard the coat closet open and close, I heard her shoes on the tiles. I loved dinner on Fridays, this was the official start to the weekend.

I was pouring the wine, I looked up with a smile. Lillian was holding my tan coat, she held my tan heels. "I found these on the way in."

"Oh." I didn't want to talk about them, I totally forgot, I was too excited by the new boobs. She put the coat around one of the kitchen chairs, she put the heels on the seat.

"Usually the apartment is so clean on Fridays."

"Mmm." I handed her a glass of wine, I glanced at my coat.

She took a sip and went to get cleaned up. I stroked my coat, it was short, it usually showed the bottom of whatever skirt I was wearing. It was the only one I owned, I decided I would let my feminine coat stay for dinner.

Lillian came back into the kitchen, looked in the oven. "Smells great." She kissed my cheek and sat down with her wine, but not before slightly handling the shoulders of the coat. She looked at me. "So you still go out shopping like a, um..."

"Woman?"

"Okay."

"Only on Friday mornings, the supermarket is usually quiet."

She was looking at me, I was bending in front of the oven, she watched me walk over to the fridge, I didn't like such scrutiny. "You have lost so much weight since we moved here. And your hair is so long. Are you ever going to cut it again?"

I looked at her, I knew what she really wanted to know.

"I don't know, I kinda like it. Did you try the cheese?"

"Mmm. I haven't seen you all dressed up in years, I'm sure you are better at it now."

"Probably, I went to Trader Joe's for the vinegar."

"Mmm. Do you wish you were dressed up like a queen right now?"

"I'm not a queen."

I took my coat and heels and I headed into my bedroom, I think they were distracting Lillian from dinner. I put on music. I didn't want to go back to the kitchen just yet. I put on some sitar music, something from India. I assumed Lillian would like it, but I came to realize she could care less. Indian music, Indian food, I loved it all, Linda didn't even care about India itself, but she spoke about it all the time, she wanted to live in one of the big cities, but I think she would be spending all her time looking at her phone. Missing all of the great views.

I walked in and took the food out of the oven, she watched me, her feet now on the empty chair. "What color are your nails?"

Clunk, I slightly dropped the casserole dish holding dinner. My heart was racing, I didn't want to damage my dinner plates. Did I forget to remove the polish on my nails, was I that distracted today?

"What?" I looked, they were plain, they were nothing, they were male.

"Ha," She shook her head. "Even the way you look at your fingers is feminine, real men don't do it like that."

We started to eat, it got quiet. The food and wine were great, the music was seeping into the kitchen it was nice, the weekend was starting once again. Her glare was making me uncomfortable.

Lillian put down her fork, "I was thinking, maybe on Friday nights we can have dinner as two girls." She looked up at me quickly, she wanted to see my reaction. She put her chin on her hands and waited for my response.

"Yeah?" I poured more wine into the glasses.

"You always go through all this work for dinner, appetizers even ambiance." She looked around the kitchen. "I feel bad making you get all changed before I come home, I know you always dress up on Fridays. Starting next week I want to meet, um, what's 'her' name again?"

"Sabrina."

"I want to meet Sabrina. Ha, I'm sure she's almost as good a cook as you."

***

Friday, October 1st

I wasn't looking forward to hanging with Lillian as a girl. She would make comments and ask my opinion of drag queens and transgendered men and women. She acted like I was an authority, even in front of her friends. It just made me uncomfortable, I didn't want to be involved.

Dinner was mostly ready, the table was set, my dishes were in place, and the white wine was cold. The music was playing and I was standing in front of my mirror. I loved Fridays. I loved getting dressed when Lillian left for work, fixing my hair and makeup. Picking out an outfit, slipping on expensive pantyhose. Heading to the shops. Friday was my day. Now I had to share my crossdressing with the wife, the wife that hated crossdressing.

I had a couple of minutes before she walked through the front door. I checked my makeup, a nice soft red on my lips, a moderately dark red on my long nails. I had on a wig, darker than my regular strawberry blonde hair. I had a nice high ponytail, a little black bow clipped into it. I couldn't let Lillian see how easy I could blow-dry and set my own hair to become feminine.

My outfit was a black long sleeve sweater dress. It had a turtleneck, every part of my feminine body was pretty well covered. My familiar C-cups were back in my bra and my waist was thinner from my corset. The hem came just to my knees showing off my almost black pantyhose. I had on two-inch black patent leather pumps, I didn't want to wear anything too high or too short or too girly or too anything. I didn't want Lillian to point anything out, or notice anything too girlie or femme. I was also completely tucked in my black panties I was completely girlie and femme.

Ahh... I wanted to scream, so I did "Ahh!" I was so nervous. "Ahh again!" She hadn't seen me in three years dressed up, three long years. Before we were even married, we both just turned twenty-five, we were young I was such an amateur. In three years I have become perfect, stylish, taller. I have become sexy as hell. Just ask the woman in my mirror.

The door opened. "I'm home!"

I swallowed I got ready to enter the kitchen, hopefully, she would go get cleaned up first, give me a couple more minutes. And she did.

"God, I have to pee so bad." I heard her yell from the hall as I made my way inside. I had on too much perfume, I had on too much blush, I needed too much wine. I poured and had a big gulp.

"Hey, look at you." She stopped and looked, she looked a long time. My breasts were too big, I wish they were bigger, but I think the C's she would approve. She walked over and grabbed my left boob, my favorite. "Wow, you are stacked, just like your Cousins. Let me see your ass." I turned sideways, she rubbed my ass, I lifted my leg, I was acting too feminine again. I had to man up, but I couldn't... wearing these heels.

"Let's take a picture."

"Really?"

"Yeah," she laughed, "You are too cute. No one will believe it." So she did, she set up her phone, the phone took a bunch of us together.

That kind of made me smile, maybe it would be fine. So we sat, I poured more wine, we ate the apps, we tasted the weird cured meat I bought. She did nothing but talk about my outfit and nails. She even sent pictures to her friends, in Brooklyn and India, which made me nervous again. I kept on trying to bring up the neighbors, the little flea market that was happening in a couple of weeks, the rain that couldn't come soon enough, even the sound of the sitars.

"Sabrina, relax." She told me, she put her hand on mine. My red nails were so long, hers were black and chipped.

I got up, I got dessert. "You will love this,"

She looked at me again and tilted her head. I couldn't really tell if she was liking this side of me or not. "It's crazy that your voice is perfect, I don't remember you sounding so much like a girl. It's a little unnerving."

"I practice, a lot."

"I can tell."

***

I couldn't tell her all the other things I had been practicing, It wasn't easy being a female. I tried very hard. No one ever called me a queen, a tranny, a jerk, on Friday mornings. Once I heard a cashier at a bakery say something nasty about one of the gay men who bought a birthday cake for his boyfriend. She was telling me this like I was one of the neighborhood women doing the shopping for the family.

I took off my dark Aviator glasses, looked at her, and left. Who needs people like that, what was she saying about me when I left the store. I ran after the man with the cake. He was at least a block ahead.

"Sir! Sorry, sir!" I was out of breath, I was running in heels. I didn't know what to say.

He smiled at me, "Yes, beautiful lady, how can I help you." God, he was so nice, the cashier was an ass, I wanted to cry.

"Hi, I'm sorry, can I buy something for your boyfriend for his birthday? You picked out the best cake in the bakery."

"Ha, you are so funny." I surprised him and grabbed his hand pulling him with me into the Middle Eastern deli, no one spoke English. I had been here before, they made great coffee and were very nice. I think.

"Here, 'Umm ali,' it's wonderful, it's like a bread pudding, you can have it with your birthday cake." I paid, we left.

"Thank you," He said, but I turned around, I started to tear up, I put my hand to my face. I think I waved goodbye. I see him in the neighborhood and he always says hello. I'm sure he tells his boyfriend about some crazy woman, who bought him some crazy dessert, but that's okay, he tells him I'm a woman in that story.

I always think It could have been ME the cashier was being mean to.

***

End of Part 1 of 7

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Comments

Good start

So many directions to go...

Ron

Voice

Yes, it takes a LOT of practice. Flip flopping voices makes it almost impossible to have an effortless voice over long conversations and speeches.

That said, being so good will make your spouse worry about how far you want to go.

I think that is the constant fear of any such wife who does not want to lose their husband.

Voice and Confidence

Sabrina G Langton's picture

Plus having a slightly perfect voice gives you so much confidence. I used to practice in my car, having imaginary conversations with those quiet imaginary people who occupy my backseat... Thanks for reading Kimmie...

The start is entrancing

Jill Jens's picture

And frightening as well. Such a nice fantasy for your heroine. Somehow I get the feeling that there is a trap door in the next episode.

She’s right though. It’s not the clothes, or the walk. It’s the voice that sells it.

Jill

Travelogue

Sabrina G Langton's picture

Thanks, Jill, this story is my love note to Brooklyn. Our heroine gets to enjoy her hobbies, her music, and her city. Thanks for reading.