Synopsis:

I suppose it started when I was about eight years old.

I put some shorts in the wash basket and noticed something silky nestled at the bottom.

Story:

Helen

By

Susan Brown

Phillip

I suppose it started when I was about eight years old.

I put some shorts in the wash basket and noticed something silky nestled at the bottom.

Being eight and inquisitive, I fished the shiny fabric out of the basket to see what it was.

It was cream coloured and felt smooth to the touch. It was a slip and it was my mothers.

To this day, I don’t know why I did it; just that I had an urge to try it on.

I quietly shut the bathroom door, took off the shorts and pants that I was wearing and stepped into the slip. It slid it up my legs. The feeling was indescribable.

I had to hold it up around my waist as otherwise, it would have fallen down. Being just a small boy, the slips hem was around my ankles.

It didn’t matter, though. It was lovely, gorgeous, wonderful and I was hooked.

I loved the feeling of the material against my legs. I knew then that I had to try other things on to see if these also made me feel wonderful.

There was couple of pairs of panties, a bra and not forgetting a filmy nightie in the basket. I tried on the panties first. It was miles too big but once again the feelings were indescribable. The bra completely flummoxed me so I let that one go until I had more time to unfathom its intricacies.

I took off the panties and slip and tried on the nightie.

I pulled it over my head and let it slide over my body. It floated down and although long, (it was what I now know to be a babydoll nightie) it didn’t quite touch the ground. It was made of nylon and it had two layers, one silky, like the slip, the other outer one was see through and gauzy. It was pink in colour and was just perfect.

I sat on the toilet still wearing the nightie and thought things through. I was only eight, but even then, I was considered to be a thoughtful boy.

It was like a complicated jigsaw puzzle coming together in my mind. I remembered the amount of times that I saw girls and women and I recalled how I seemed to keep looking at what they were wearing. It wasn’t a conscious thing, just something that was going on without my realising it.

Samantha, the kid next door was about my age and she was always wearing pretty things like skirts, tops and dresses. She was into pink a lot and everyone knows that pink is the girliest colour imaginable. I now realised that for some time now, I had been unconsciously jealous of her and now I knew why. She could dress like a girl and I couldn’t.

I wanted to be a girl, but I couldn’t. I was a boy. It was so unfair. Girls could wear pretty things, have long hair and be all girly; boys couldn’t.

Boys had to be tough or get bullied. Girls didn’t need to be strong rough and tough.

I was bullied a bit at school as I was quiet, shy and introspective. Something boys are not supposed to be.

So the pieces of jigsaw had now come together. I was a boy who wished he was a girl.

‘Phillip, are you going to be in the bathroom for ever. Hurry up its tea time.’

‘Yes Mummy.’ I called, coming back to reality.

Sadly I took off the nightie and put all of the clothes back into the bin.

Over the years, I grew up to be a normal looking man, fairly thin, about five foot eight with mousy brown hair; but underneath, I was a girl. In my mind, I was Helen and that was where it stayed in my mind. As a child I had occasionally raided my mothers wardrobe and the wash basket but never enough for my liking.

I went away to University at Keele, where I studied Computer Science.

I was good at the subject and I got on well.

These were good years for me as I had my own room and I could be Helen in privacy behind locked doors.

I bought my clothes from charity shops and when brave, high street stores. I was always buying for my girlfriend of course.

I practiced applying makeup and although I say it myself, the results were not that bad.

It was at uni that I met my wife.

Dianne was taking a business studies and we met at the cafeteria, when I clumsily knocked over her coke.

To cut a long story short, we were married shortly after obtaining our degrees.

We moved to a small town in Surrey and we were lucky enough to both have good jobs.

Our house was nice and we were a very happy couple.

You may be wondering if I told Dianne about Helen. I didn’t.

I was in denial. I was in love and I thought that I had left Helen behind.

After meeting with Dianne, I had not dressed once. I had gotten over my silly desire to wear women’s clothing and be a girl and that was the end of it.

We were so happy. Our jobs were going well and life seemed to be full.

That was until we found out that Dianne could not have children.

Something wrong with her egg production we were told. She went for countless tests, but it was no good, the long and short of it was that we could not make our own babies.

It was desperate time for us but our love saw us through. We had thought about adopting, but we never got around to it.

We threw ourselves into work and had very little time to consider bringing up a child the way we wanted to. Strange really considering how much we had wanted our own child.

Years passed. Dianne was still at the same company and doing well. The only thing being, she spent more time at working and travelling the country than she used to.

I started working for myself. I worked from home as a computer consultant and that was good, up to a point. I was by myself a lot and I started having very strong feelings about a part of my life that had been missing for some time.

It started with my wife’s clothes. I think we had similar tastes and I found myself trying on her stuff. Dresses, skirts blouses. I tried on most of her things over a month long period. I only wore her underclothes from the wash basket, as I didn’t think it fair to wear them before she did

I knew now that I couldn’t be a girl. Frankly, I don’t think that I would have passed as a girl even if I had the operation and real boobs. I was happy. My life was in balance and if I couldn’t be a real girl, at least I could wear the clothes and be girly sometimes.

I was very careful not to get found out. I didn’t think that she would understand, she laughed once when she was looking at one of those talk shows. The subject was transgender issues and she was not sympathetic about men wanting to dress as women. She turned the TV off after about five minutes.

After a while, I started to collect my own clothes again and also makeup, using the thrift shops, high street stores and then the internet.

Ebay was my alternative home. I could go on line, find clothes that I liked and if the stuff didn’t fit or I didn’t like it, I could just sell it back on Ebay.

I felt the need to go out dressed and meet others like me. I didn’t think that I would pass very well, so I didn’t go shopping on the high street or anything like that, but I did find a support group in the next town. The group held meetings every couple of weeks and it was with much trepidation, that I went to my first meeting.

Our house was not overlooked by other houses and so I was OK to dress at home and not have the worry of being seen dressed. Needless to say, Dianne was away for a few days and that meant that I could dress and go out in relatively safely.

I had emailed the organiser of the group several times regarding attending the meeting and I was looking forward and dreading going all at the same time.

I wore a nice black leather skirt, gray silk blouse, black stockings and knee high black boots. I had on a straight blond wig that just touched my shoulders and my makeup was light and not over the top. I learned early on that less is best.

I arrived early as I didn’t want to be confronted by a huge number of people staring at me when I arrived.

With heart pounding I went up to the door, opened it and walked in

Just inside the door was a table and a woman was sitting behind it.

‘Hi honey, I’m Rachel,’ she said in a deep voice.

‘Hello, I’m Helen, we emailed??’

Rachel got up and gave me a hug. This was a nice welcome!

‘Welcome Helen, its nice to see you at last. We’ll have a chat later, let’s go meet a few girls.’

We went into the hall. There were several girls chatting and drinking tea or coffee.

I was introduced to everyone and was made very welcome.

A few of the girls had brought wives along and I wished that Dianne could be open enough to see how nice and normal everyone was. OK they were men dressed as women, but it didn’t matter. They were being themselves, like me.

I heard stories that night about how others had journeyed to where they now were. Some were lucky and had the support of their wives or partners. Others were like me, dare not tell of their secret. A few at the meeting had told their partners and had been scorned and in one case been rejected, leaving her divorced and without access to her children.

The evening went quickly and all too soon it was time to go home. I swapped email addresses with several of the girls and as I drove home, I realised that I was pleased that I had gone. It had given me an outlet to express myself as Helen and it was good for the soul!

I yawned as I drove up to my house. It was dark as I had forgotten to set the lights.

I shut the front door behind me and sighed.

‘I need not have worried,’ I thought, ‘I had a great time.’

I yawned again and went into the kitchen. I fancied cocoa before I went to bed.

After making the drink, I went and sat in the lounge.

I put my feet up and sipped my drink. It was nice to be home again and relaxing. I put the drink down. And shut my eyes for a minute.

Dianne

I was fuming. I had just found out that the meeting for tomorrow had been cancelled and I had reached the airport before anyone had bothered to tell me.

This had happened only once before, but it was bloody annoying.

I rang Phillip from the airport but there was no reply. Then I rang him on his mobile and just got the answer machine. That was strange, Phillip hated being out of touch and he never switched off his mobile. I mentally shrugged and went back to my car.

Driving home that evening I smiled as I realised that at least the cancellation of the trip meant that I could spend a bit more time at home with Phillip.

We were a bit like ships in the night, Phillip and me. My work kept me away too much and Philip was always busy with his computer consultancy. We needed a holiday badly.

The porch light was off in the house as I drove up the driveway. Phillips car was parked outside. The tyres on my car seemed a bit noisy on the gravel tonight.

‘At least Phillip’s home,’ I thought as I opened the front door, put my cases down and walked into the kitchen for a glass of water. I was trying to be quiet as Phillip would probably be in bed by now.

I smiled at myself as I decided that I would get into bed and cuddle up to him and when he woke up, it would be a nice surprise. It might lead to something naughty!

I was just about to creep upstairs when I noticed a light coming from the lounge. The door was cracked open slightly.

Phillip must have forgotten to turn the lights off.

I went over and opened the door and my mouth dropped.

Sitting in Phillips favourite chair was a woman.

‘Who the hell are you?’ I shouted, waking the woman from a deep sleep.

‘Oh shit.’

I recognised the voice and then looking more closely, I recognised the face, just. It was Phillip dressed as a woman!

‘Why, why are you dressed like that?’

‘Sorry, Dianne, I can explain.’

‘Explain, you dirty pervert. Are you gay or something. How dare you do this to me. You can’t love me, you bastard. I don’t understand all this but I’m going now and I’ll be back in the morning. You had better be gone. I need time to think, Oh God, what is happening here?’

With that I rushed out leaving Phillip in his skirt and blouse, mouth plastered with lipstick and looking like I don’t know what.

I grabbed my cases, got into the car and with tires screeching, I went to find a hotel.

I don’t know how I did it, I was crying my eyes out, but I managed to get to the nearest motel, just off the motorway, in one piece.

I checked in. I don’t know if the man behind the desk noticed anything, but I must have looked awful, panda eyes with the crying and everything.

I stepped into the room, flung my cases on the floor, threw myself on the bed and cried my eyes out.

I must have fallen asleep because I woke up lying on my face and feeling like death warmed up.

For a few seconds I didn’t realise where I was and then I remembered. I had seen my husband dressed as a woman!

I didn’t cry. I had no tears left. I just felt anger and betrayal. How long had he been doing this and why?

Was he sick or just perverted?

Questions kept rolling around my mind. I went into the bathroom and promptly threw up. I was shaky and disorientated. What was happening to me? I had to get a grip. I was the strong one. I made important decisions on a daily basis and now I just could not cope with this.

I got undressed and had a shower. The running water hit my face ran down my body.

After the shower, I threw on some clean clothes and went to the restaurant for some breakfast and a coffee. I wasn’t hungry, but felt that I needed all the sustenance I could get, to help me through what was going to be a harrowing day.

Whilst waiting for my breakfast, I phoned the office on the mobile and spoke to Jake the MD. I told him that I had a few personal problems and that I needed a couple of days off.

He was sympathetic and he said, ‘If there was anything he could do yah dey yah dey yah…..’

Sure, I was going to tell him about my husband… not!

After breakfast I was back in the cheerless room, thinking about what to do next.

I decided that I had to go home. I hoped that he wasn’t there. I couldn’t face him just now, but I had no choice. All my things were in the house. I had no choice.

Thirty minutes later, I arrived back home. Phillips car was still there.

‘Shit, why isn’t he gone?’ I thought.

I opened the front door and walked in; it was quiet. Where was he?

I called out. There was no answer.

I went upstairs and opened the bedroom door.

Walking in, I saw Phillip asleep on the bed. He was still dressed as a woman.

‘Phillip, wake up, we need to talk,’ I said touching his arm.

Phillips arm sort of flopped down the side of the bed. There was something wrong, very wrong.

Phillip

I still sat in the chair. I was numb. I heard the front door slam. Dianne had gone, probably for good.

I put my head in my hands and cried. I was grief stricken. She had found out about me and in the worst possible way.

Her words had cut me deeply. The way she said them and the fact that she no longer wanted or respected me, hurt me deeply.

I wanted to tear off my clothes and never wear girls’ things again. I had cheated on my wife. Not as someone who has a lover or had played away, but because I had lied and kept a part of myself away from her. She deserved better.

I got up and went over to the drinks cabinet and had a stiff glass of whisky, and another and then one more. I needed to deaden the pain I was feeling inside.

I went upstairs, bottle and glass in hand, feet unsteady after taking so much drink on an empty stomach.

I sat on the bed and had another bout of crying and self loathing.

I couldn’t take it anymore. My wife no longer wanted me and I hated myself for being ME!

I knew that if I promised never to dress again in women’s clothes, I would be lying. I could not kid myself. It was like a drug or inbuilt in me that I needed to dress, to be myself. If I could not dress I would be miserable for the rest of my life. If I did dress, I would loose the one person I loved most in this world.

It was no good, whatever I did, I would not be happy and nor would Dianne.

Anyway, I didn’t deserve to live and I didn’t want to give Dianne any more pain. I would finish things now.

I got out a pen and paper. I think that I was on autopilot because I felt sort of numb and detached.

I wrote a note for Dianne. It took some time to write but in the end I finished it. I placed it on her pillow.

I then went into the bathroom and went to the cabinet. I took out the bottle of sleeping pills and emptied the contents into my mouth taking a swig of whisky to help them down. I choked a bit but managed to swallow all the pills.

I went over to the bed and slumped down. Then I felt very tired and lay down, my last thoughts being of Dianne and how much I loved her.

Dianne

I tried to wake up Phillip but got no response. I glanced at the bedside table and saw the bottle of whisky and the empty container.

‘Oh, God Phillip, what have you done?’

I went over to the bedside phone and rang the emergency number.

‘Hello, my husband has taken some pills; I can’t wake him. What pills? I don’t know, oh hang on, Diazepam. I don’t know how many, please hurry.’

I put the phone down and tried again to wake Phillip. He was still breathing but it was very shallow.

‘Phillip, wake up, please wake up.’

It was no good.

I ran downstairs and opened the front door, so that the ambulance people could come straight in and then I went upstairs again. Still no movement.

‘Hurry up. Ambulance!’

I noticed a piece of paper on my pillow and picked it up. It was a note from Phillip.

Darling Dianne,

I am so very sorry about upsetting you and not telling you about my dressing.

I have been dressing as a girl whenever possible since I was eight. I don’t know why I do it.

Some say it is born in us, others that it is due to psychological reasons. I don’t know why but I do know that I have to do it.

I am not in love with anyone else and I am not gay. I am just being me.

I did not tell you because, at the time we got together, I thought that I had beaten it and that my love for you squashed all these feelings. But, of late the urges that I had to dress have been more frequent and stronger. I joined a club for transgender people in Eastleigh and I went there tonight. I had a great time and got to know many people who dress as women. Some had partners with them and what struck me most was that the partners seemed happy with the situation and accepted that we like to dress and are doing no harm to anyone.

But, I did not tell you and I hurt you and for that I am truly sorry. Perhaps if I had been honest with you, we could have worked things out and you may not think too badly of me. It’s too late now and as I cannot bear to have these feelings splitting me up I have decided that it would be best to finish things.

Do not blame yourself, darling, it was all my fault. I hope that you can find happiness and forgive me.

All my love, now and always

Phillip.

I put the note down; tears were streaming down my face. I DID blame myself. How could I not. If I had just stopped and listened, I may have understood what was going on in Philips head and what drove him to dress like that.

Just then, I heard a siren in the distance and I ran downstairs as the ambulance screeched to a halt outside.

‘Quick, he’s upstairs in the bedroom.’

The two ambulance men rushed upstairs with a trolley and medical equipment.

I followed as quickly as possible.

The ambulance men were talking quickly to each other using medical jargon that I couldn’t understand. They checked his pulse, eyes and then put him on the trolley. Then they put an oxygen mask on his face and injected him with something.

They said nothing about how he was dressed.

‘How is he?’ I asked anxiously.

‘Don’t worry love. We’ll have her er him in hospital in no time.’

‘I want to go.’

‘Of course love.’

A few minutes later and I found myself in an ambulance holding Phillips hand as we rushed through the street of the town. The sirens were going and the blue lights were flashing. That’s how I knew without asking that things were touch and go.

I looked at his face, although smeared; it looked like he had put the makeup on quite professionally. He was kind of pretty too.

I shook my head and just kept holding his hand as if his very life depended on it.

We arrived at the hospital and very soon, I found myself sitting in a cold lifeless waiting room. Waiting for what? I didn’t know. All I knew was that I wanted my husband back and to hell with the fact that he liked wearing panties.

I was there for what seemed like hours and then I heard some footsteps.

I looked up. It was a doctor.

‘Hello, Mrs Peterson, I’m the doctor in charge of your husband’s case. He is going to be OK. We had a few problems stabilising him because he had a minor seizure. We had to pump him out and the alcohol he consumed didn’t help much. Luckily, it appears that he didn’t take enough pills to cause too many problems and after a good nights sleep, he should be OK.’

‘Can I see him?’ I said, relieved that it didn’t seem too serious.

‘Yes but he won’t wake up until the morning.’

He was in a side ward, so there was just one bed. I walked over to him. He was dressed in a hospital gown. There were tubes coming out of everywhere and there was a constant beep coming from a monitor over the bed.

I sat and held his hand.

I sat there for ages. Thinking about what he had done and what I had said. Going over and over in my mind about what I should have said and done. I had had a knee jerk reaction. I should have understood. I recalled how gentle he was, not macho at all really and how he always took an interest in what I was wearing. He always helped choose my clothes and perhaps this was his way of getting in touch of his feminine side.

A nurse came in.

‘Why don’t you go home? You look all done in and he won’t wake up for many hours yet.’

‘I think I will go home.’

I hesitated and then asked ‘did you see what he was wearing when he came in?’

’Yes, I helped undress him.’

‘Did it upset you?’

She laughed, ‘No, of course not. We see a lot of men come through Emergency and you would be surprised the amount of men who dress like this, at least panties, tights and things under their male clothes, but some fully dressed like your husband. Mind you he did look nice in that skirt.’

I smiled at that comment and I went home thinking about what she had said and the fact that I was now getting over the shock of what had occurred over the last few days.

When I arrived home, I went to make myself a cup of tea. I was tired but I couldn’t go to bed. I sipped on my hot drink and then had an idea.

I went up to Phillips office, taking my drink with me.

I switched on the computer and then went onto the internet.

I put ‘Eastleigh Transgender’ into Google search and found their website.

I found a lot of information about the club, what they did and their aims.

The information opened my eyes to a community that quite frankly did not know existed. I had thought that cross dressing meant being a drag queen or something.

There was a link that said Wife/Partner support. I clicked on it and there was some information about how dressing can affect wives and that they had someone called Chloe, a wife of one of the members, who was always there to help and support wives and partners.

There was a phone number and it said ring anytime and Chloe would help. If she wasn’t in, it said, leave a phone number and she would return the call as soon as possible.

It was 9.30pm and on an impulse, I rang the number.

‘Hello 643291.’

‘Oh hello, is that Chloe?’

‘Yes, can I help you?’

‘Erm, I hope so, My name is Dianne. My husband is in hospital, he came to your meeting last night and and…’

I started crying.

‘Oh, honey, don’t cry, shall I come over? It’s better face to face.’

‘Would you mind, it’s getting late.’

‘Don’t worry about that. Are you at the hospital?’

‘No, I’m at home,’

I gave her my address and she said that she would be there in twenty minutes.

A little after twenty minutes, the doorbell rang and I went downstairs to answer it.

I opened the door and a woman about my age was standing there.

‘Chloe?’

‘That’s me. Can I come in?’

‘Of course,’ I said leading her into the lounge.

I made some tea and after we sat down Chloe got down to it.

‘So, Dianne, Tell me what happened.’

I told Chloe all that had gone on. How I walked in on Phillip dressed as a woman and that I shouted at him and ran out of the house. Then finding him on the bed and it was then that I showed Chloe, Phillips note and … well you know the rest.

By this time I was sobbing as I relived the nightmare.

After finishing, I found myself being hugged by Chloe.

‘It’s OK. Don’t worry. We can sort things out.’

She gave me a tissue and I blew my nose rather loudly and wiped my eyes. I felt like crap and probably looked it too.

‘Feeling a bit better? Good. Now I am going to ask you a few questions. Try to answer them as honestly as possible. What you say to me is confidential. I am a doctor and I have helped run the support group for many years and I think that I’ve heard everything so I won’t be shocked. OK?’

‘I nodded my head, wondering what would come next.

‘Do you love Phillip?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Even though he kept a secret from you?’

‘Yes. I was annoyed and shocked at discovering him dressed as a woman but most of all, I felt as though he had deceived me.’

‘In what way?’

‘Couples should not have secrets.’

‘What if he thought that you would reject him if he told you?

‘Marriage is based on trust.’

‘Would you have rejected him if he had told you about dressing?

‘No, yes, I don’t know. I hope that I would have at least listened to him, before making up my mind.’

‘OK let’s turn this around. Phillips note said that at the time you got together he thought that he was over his need to dress. Do you believe that?’

‘Yes, I have no reason not to.’

‘In that case, thinking like that, was he deceiving you? It was in his past as far as he was concerned.’

‘I suppose.’

‘Look Dianne. There is no right or wrong to this. Each of us that have to make a decision about important matters and have to weigh up whether what course of action you are taking is right or wrong. Maybe Phillip should have told you. I can’t say, as it’s up to the individual concerned regarding this. I know some marriages do break up when the truth is out. Other marriages survive and sometimes strengthen. In my case, my husband John was a bit like Phillip. He kept it quiet and like you, I found out. I found some panties and lipstick of all things in the bottom of a drawer. I thought that he was having an affair and confronted him with the evidence. He broke down and told me all about how he had been dressing off and on since he was a little kid.’

‘How did you take it,’ I said, interrupting.

She smiled. ‘Well, I suppose at the time I was relieved that he wasn’t ditching me for someone else and also, being a doctor, I had come across the odd crossdresser and gender dysphoric.’

‘Gender dyswhat?

Chloe laughed, ‘Sorry it means is a condition in which a person has been assigned one gender but identifies as belonging to another gender, or does not conform with the gender role their respective society prescribes to them. Put simply they look like a boy but in their head, they are a girl.’

‘Is Phillip like that?’

‘I don’t know, but he has a need to dress as a woman. To tell you the truth, there are many degrees of this. Some men just like the feel of wearing feminine things; others quite frankly find it a sexual turn on. Some feel that they are just women trapped in a mans’ body. Incidentally, there are woman who have similar feelings, trapped in the wrong body, so as you can see there’re all shades of transgenderism.’

They aren’t homosexual?’

‘Some are, but most are not and from what you tell me, Phillip isn’t.’

We talked quite a bit more and I got many questions answered. It was getting late so Chloe gave me her card with all her phone numbers and email address on and I promised to keep in touch.

After she left, I rang the hospital for an update. All was OK and then I went to bed but I didn’t sleep very well.

Phillip

I woke up with a thumping headache and my mouth felt like nothing on Earth.

I wondered where I was and my head was fuzzy. My eyes came into focus and I realised that I was not at home. Looking around I saw that I was in hospital. The tubes coming out of me, the hospital gown and the off green walls and the hospital smell were a dead give away.

My eyes began to water as I realised that I was still here. I should be at peace now and out of Dianne’s hair.

A nurse came in.

‘Hi there, how are you feeling?’

‘OK I guess.’

‘Here, have a tissue.’

‘Thanks.’

She took my temperature, blood pressure and checked the tube coming out of my arm.

‘Right, that’s OK. Are you in any pain?’

‘I have a nasty headache and wish I wasn’t here.’

‘None of that talk here Ve haf vays of making you happy,’ she said in a fake German accent.

I smiled at that.

‘Right, I’ll get you some medication.’

In a few seconds, she was back and I was downing two pink pills.

‘Where am I?’ I asked.

‘Eastleigh General, you were brought in last night.’

‘How did I get here?’

‘No idea, I wasn’t on shift then. Now don’t you worry. Doctor will be around later and he will answer any questions. See you later.’

With that she left me to my troubled thoughts.

I shut my eyes. The lights were too bright. I must have fallen asleep.

I woke up with a start; someone had come into the room. It was Dianne.

My heart was thumping. She just looked at me.

‘I’m so sorry, Dianne!’

‘She rushed up to the bed and held me. We were both crying.

After an age, we got ourselves back together again.

‘How are you feeling?’ she asked.

‘A bit better now that you are here.’

She thumped me on the arm.

‘Ouch! What was that for?’

‘For not sharing things with me. Don’t you ever, ever do anything like that again.’

‘I thought that you… oh I don’t know, I never seem to get things right.’

‘I’m sorry too, Phillip, for flying off the handle and not listening to you. I never thought that I was a bigot or prejudiced but my reaction to seeing you looking like a pretty woman was unforgivable.’

‘You were in shock.’

‘Don’t make excuses for me. I should have at least heard your side before throwing a wobbly.’

‘So do you forgive me for being Helen?’

‘Helen, is that your girl name? That’s nice. I never knew. I’ll forgive you on one condition.’

‘What?’

That I get to see Helen again and I also get to borrow that nice skirt you were wearing.’

‘That’s two conditions.’

‘Don’t push it buster!’

The End

Notes:

Readers, Please Remember to Leave a Comment

Want to comment but don't want to open an account?
Anyone can log in as Guest Reader -- password topshelf to leave a comment.