I guess, if I want to be honest, I should have seen it coming. I’m her third husband. The first one took to drinking and she divorced him. The second died. There were those who suspected it wasn’t exactly an accident. I mean, he was an experienced high steelworker and it wasn’t even a windy day. Well, anyway, while she and I were friends, she never really acted like she had any really deep feelings for me, but some how I was in love with her for better then a year before she responded at all. She was well aware of my feelings, then all of a sudden it was as if a switch was thrown.

It happened right after I persuaded her to come to my families Labor Day picnic. We did have big families in common. As a matter of fact they were the same size and make up. Five kids in each, four boys and one girl. In each, the girl was the next to the youngest.

In my family, my brothers were all big guys and played football and wrestled in both high school and college. It was the same in hers. I wasn’t at all like my brothers. I was more the chess club type. I really didn’t have the build for football or wrestling. I didn’t have the height for basketball. I did play a little tennis and golf, but not competitively. At the picnic, my brothers went off to throw a football around while their wives took the kids to the lake for a swim. I stayed back with Sharon, Carol (my sister) and Mom. We were sitting around talking and telling stories about our childhood. It was good for laughs and we found that her stories resonated with ours. I guess there are just some things that are common to families with the make up we shared.

Carol mentioned how she really felt out numbered with four brothers in the house.

"I know just what you mean." Sharon said. "I did too. I evened things up just a little though."

"How’d you do that?" Carol asked.

Sharon grinned. "I dressed my little brother up like a girl and he became my playmate."

All of a sudden, Mom and Carol were riveted on her every word. "Really?" They said simultaneously.

"What did you mother think of that?" Mom asked.

"Oh, she gave me a bad time about turning him into some kind of pervert. But that wasn’t the case at all. He grew up fine, married and has two kids of his own."

"Well, I wouldn’t think that one time of dressing him up would affect him all that much." Carol observed.

"Oh, it wasn’t just once."

"How many times did you dress him up?"

"Two or three times a month, starting when he was six."

"How long did you keep it up?"

"Until he was thirteen."

I wouldn’t know what else was discussed until much later. I’m an EMT for the local fire department in our small community. Since I was on call, I was carrying my cell phone and it rang. I had to take off to answer a call. Mom was used to it and knew that if it became necessary for me to be gone long, some one would see that she go her car back. A young boy had fallen into the river about four miles away. He was breathing and stable by the time the ambulance arrived. By the time I got back, Mom, Carol and Sharon were as thick as thieves. It was about time to go, so we began gathering up. When we were all packed up and loaded in Mom’s wagon, Sharon snuggled up close. That surprised me a little, but I wasn’t complaining.

"Tom," she said, "I never really got to know your family before. I really like your Mom and sister."

"I’m glad."

"We really had a great time talking today. I learned a lot about you too."

"Oh? Like what?"

"That’d be telling."

"Just what did they tell you about me?"

"Nothing much. Let’s just say, that I have a whole new respect for the person who is Thomas Michael Johnson," she smiled. Then she really surprised me as she reached up and kissed me on the cheek.

That was the first time she had shown and real affection. We had necked a couple of times, but only when I had taken her to the movies. Even then, she was a limited participant. Only becoming interested after a long time of me being very passionate and a bit aggressive.

When I took her home, I had another surprise. "Will I see you again next weekend?" She asked.

"I’d like that if you’re available."

"For you, I’ll make myself available." She surprised me with that comment. Always before, when I asked her out, she’d tell me to call her later in the week and she’d let me know. I really thought she was hoping for a better offer. Here, she not only encouraged me to see her again, but promised that she’d always be available.

Things moved kind of fast after that. We began dating every weekend and meeting for lunch when our schedules would coincide. She bought me a silk shirt for my birthday. I didn’t think she even knew when my birthday was.

"Try it on," she prompted from her kitchen as she got us some drinks. "you’ll love how it feels." I took her advice, and striped off my flannel shirt that I almost always wore and was buttoning up the silk shirt as she came back.

We sat on the couch and she snuggled up close. "I just love the feel of silk, don’t you?" she asked, rubbing her hand over the fabric. She had a point. It did feel really good. We necked for a while. It was one of those times when she was interested right from the start. One of the buttons came undone and she noticed my tee shirt.

"You’re wearing a tee shirt!" She exclaimed.

"Well, yeah… I always wear one. It’s like an under shirt."

"You should take it off, you’re loosing the whole effect of the shirt."

"No I’m not. I can feel it on my arms."

"It’d feel much better on your bare chest."

I’m sure she was right, but I really didn’t think it was a big deal. So I resisted. "All the guys a the fire house wear tee shirts. I’d feel naked without one."

"Spoil sport. I buy a really nice shirt so you can enjoy the material and you have to wear a tee shirt under it."

I could tell she was disappointed, but before I could relent, she hurried on to another subject. I think she just didn’t want to get into an argument with me. Thursday that week, we met for lunch.

"Here," she said. "I got you something."

I took the package and looked at her puzzled. "What’s this?"

"Open it and see, silly."

I opened it up. It was tee shirts. "Why did you get me tee shirts?"

"Feel them."

I could see that they weren’t regular tee shirts. When I touched them they were all soft and silky. I looked up with a little surprise.

"I tried to find them in silk, but nobody makes them in silk. They’re nylon tricot. Don’t they feel just delicious? You can wear them under your new silk shirt."

They did feel good. "But there are, what… five of them? I only have one silk shirt. What am I supposed to do with the rest of them?"

"I thought that once you wore one, you’d want to wear them all the time. Tomorrow when we go to dinner wear one under your silk shirt. I know you’ll just love it."

I just shook my head. "OK, you win. Tomorrow, under my silk shirt."

I was good to my word. After work that day, I put on one of the new tee shirts and my silk shirt. All I can say is "Wow!" That is some delicious combination. It brought back memories. I had buried them deep. But I’m getting ahead of myself. I don’t want to tell that part of the story just yet. Suffice to say I really enjoyed the feeling.

Sharon carried on over it all evening as well. "Oh, I just love the feel of it on you." She said as she hugged me close. I began to get just a little excited as she rubbed the silk against the nylon of my new tee shirt. "I’ll have to get you some more silk shirts. I could really get off on that feel." She smiled up at me. All evening she was very touchy, feely. She had her hand on me some place all evening. The smile on her face made it obvious that she really was getting off on the feel.

Saturday we decide to go for a hike. She mused at being disappointed I couldn’t/wouldn’t be wearing my silk shirt for the hike. She made me promise to wear one of my new tee shirts. We hiked up to a small lake about three miles off the end of a long dusty gravel road. We packed a nice lunch. I even packed in my backpack stove and we had hot soup and chicken sandwiches. She packed in tenth of white wine and a nice blanket. It was really romantic. Just the two of us at a quite lake, lunch, the warm breeze and tall trees at our back. It was as if it were just she and I alone in the world.

We snuggled after we ate. We kissed a little and she unbuttoned my ever present flannel shirt and rubbed the nylon tee shirt, cooing all the time. "Mmmm," she said and kissed me. "I love the feel of that shirt. Don’t you?" I had to admit it did feel good.

At her insistence, I began wearing the new tee shirts pretty much all the time. I was sure that when I was going to be around her, I would wear them. We began to get pretty serious. I could tell that my mother was all in favor of it. She would invite Sharon and I to dinner a couple of times a month and she began giving me the "knowing" looks. You know the ones. It was written all over her face that she already thought of Sharon as her daughter-in-law.

It was just four more months and we made that a reality. Shortly before the wedding, Sharon asked, "What do you sleep in?" It was a reasonable question, considering that we’d be sleeping together in a few weeks.

"Usually, I sleep in my underwear. It saves time if I’m called out for an emergency in the middle of the night."

"Ouuu, sexy." She smiled.

On our honeymoon she presented me with a pair of silk boxer shorts to sleep in. I wore my nylon tee shirt and the new silk boxers. Now that was some feeling. I was really charged up for that. Before the week was up, she was talking about the need to get me some more silk boxers when we got home.

After the honeymoon, reality set in. Between her job Penny’s and mine with the fire department, we had a nice income, but that didn’t mean the we could waste money. After all, we had two cars we were paying on and we wanted to buy a house. I told her I couldn’t really justify spending money on more silk boxers. Besides, I had plenty of my jockey shorts. She seemed disappointed. A couple weeks later, I opened my underwear drawer and found something new.

"Sharon," I said, holding up a pair of nylon shorts. "What’s this?"

"Oh, you said that you couldn’t see spending the money on more silk boxers, so I bought you some of those. They’re nylon tricot like your tee shirts. They have an even better feel then silk and I got all those for the same price as one pair of silk boxers. They were on sale and I got my discount on top of that," she smiled.

"But why so many? There’s six or seven here."

"I thought, since they were the same as your tee shirts, that you might want to wear them as underpants."

"Well," I smiled. "that would be great, but, as you now know, I wear jockey shorts."

"Oh yeah, well I guess that you have plenty of sleep wear then don’t you?"

So I started wearing them every night. But I noticed something. One Saturday morning I had to ask. "Hey Sharon, these nylon boxers…"

"Yeah, what about them?"

"How come they don’t have a fly?"

"Oh, well, no one makes nylon boxers for men. I got those in the women’s department. You don’t mind do you?" she smiled and snuggled up obviously interested in my body.

"These are women’s panties aren’t they? What do they call ‘em? Tap panties? Yeah, that’s it, isn’t it."

"Oh who cares. They feel really great don’t they?" I had to agree, they did feel really great.

A short time later, Sharon called it to my attention that some of my jockey shorts were getting a little ragged. "I’ll pick up a few pair at work for you today," she told me. She was true to her word. Only they weren’t like my others. They were lightweight cotton bikini cut. It reminded me of the one’s my sister wore when I was a teenager, only hers were nylon. Aside from that I really couldn’t tell the difference. I noticed one other thing. There were no tags inside. You know like what size or brand tag.

I know that a lot of guys wore bikini cut shorts, but I never had. They didn’t seem to have as much room as I might have thought. Sharon liked the way I looked in them. I was getting ready for bed one evening when she walked in. I was wearing a tee shirt and my new shorts and I was bending over getting my "boxers" out of the drawer as she entered.

"Oh my, now that looks inviting," she said, patting my rump. "It would feel better if they were nylon, like your tee shirt." She smiled as I straightened up and we kissed. "Maybe I could find you some in nylon." The rest of her chain of thought was lost in a fit of passion. Lost, but not for gotten.

After her next payday, I found some in nylon. Now, I was sure that they were just like what my sister wore. "Ah, Sharon, I know that these aren’t men’s underwear. You got these from the women’s department, didn’t you?"

"Well, yeah, so? I mean, we both love the feel of your tee shirts on you, and you wear those others to bed at night. So now you wear these during the day. Who’ll know?"

"Ah, it’s one thing to wear something like these," I said fingering my night shorts. "at home in bed and quite another to wear these during the day."

"Oh, come on, try them before you say no," she said cozying up to me and giving me a passionate kiss. All my resistance melted and I put them on. Oh, it’d been a long, long time. I never thought I’d ever again feel like this.

After that, all my jockey shorts disappeared and even the cotton bikini shorts disappeared over time. Not that it mattered. I was wearing the nylon all the time anyway. Sharon took over buying all my clothes for me. She could do it at work. She’d just pick up what ever I needed and bring it home. Another thing I acquired were couple pair of Italian loafers. One in black and one in brown.

Soon after, a new ambulance company opened up shop in town. They were looking for experienced EMT’s and were offering 20% over my current salary to start with guaranteed raises and a $2000.00 sign on bonus. I took the job. It was great. I worked a regular shift, I never had to spend the night and no on call days.

The next thing that showed up in my drawers were some satin tank tops. I started wearing them to bed. I really didn’t want to know what department Sharon got them from, but I never saw anything like them in the men’s department anywhere. Of course, Sharon made me feel good when I wore them to bed.

It seemed that Sharon was never satisfied. It wasn’t long after that, she began to joke about how boring the color of my nightwear was, all in white.

"Why are you complaining? After all, you picked it out. Besides, when the lights go out, you can’t tell what color they are anyway."

"I know," she said. "it’s just that I’ve got nighties in all colors. Your things are just in white. It doesn’t seem fair that I should have a variety and you’re stuck in a single color." Looking back, I could see her wheels turning. But considering that this conversation was going on during foreplay, I missed it at the time.

It was my birthday that the conversation came back to me. We were on the way home from Mom’s and Sharon kept looking at me with a mischievous smile. When we got home, I found another present on our bed. Sharon just smiled and nodded toward the gift. "Well, aren’t you going to open it?"

It turned out to be a royal blue satin tank top and matching — dare I say it? — tap panties. Sharon helped me try them on and immediately went into a great session between the sheets. In the morning I got to take stock of my new sleep wear. The tank top was a bit longer than any I had been wearing before. It came down far enough to cover the, … ah … tap panties and had a curved hem. It had slits up the side so that the waist band of the bottoms (I have to call them that) could be seen when I walked. I went into the bathroom to take a leak and I noticed a short satin robe hanging on the back of the door. It was exactly the same shade of blue as my new night wear. I was looking at it when Sharon walked in.

"The set came with a robe." She told me. "I wasn’t sure if you wanted it, so it’s kind of an optional gift."

"Well, if it goes with it, I guess I should try it on at least." With that, I put the robe on. It was not your usual robe. There was place to tie it on the inside with a small string as well as the traditional belt tie. The only thing is, to use it, I had to wrap the robe right over left instead of left over right like I usually would. The end of it was just short enough that the tank top showed underneath it.

Sharon was clinging to me and kissing me in a moment. "Umm, I like," she said. "Leave on while we eat breakfast."

I did. The whole set went into regular use. On our anniversary I gained another in turquoise. The tank top was a little different. It had some fancy stitching around the neckline and the hemline was really loose and didn’t have any slits. It hung in folds around me. The bottoms were more like my underwear only looser. I must have been in denial. I refused to think anything about it. I refused to consider the fact that the material was lighter and not as opaque as the first one. I was really hooked on the nylon. Even the fact that the bottoms were more like panties, then anything else didn’t phase me.

I knew, I really did. I just didn’t want to think about it. I just enjoyed the feel of it all. Not to mention that in bed Sharon did her best to make me enjoy the whole experience. She gave me all kinds of positive reinforcement.

Meanwhile, I began reflecting on how many times that Sharon, Carol and Mom had been in close and animated conversation only to stop talking when some one else came on the scene, especially me. Couple that with the change in the way Mom was treating me. It should have made me realize that something was up.

Oh, it wasn’t bad, it’s just she hugged me more, a lot more. She had taken to looking in my eyes with a strange look in hers. One day, she was stroking my hair and said, "I really like the way you’ve let your hair grow since you married Sharon."

"Well, Mom, I’m glad you like it. It was Sharon’s idea. She says it makes me look more rugged," I said it, but I didn’t believe it. I thought that with my fair skin, light beard and soft features, it made me look, well softer.

"I like it. The only change I’d make is to do something to give it some body."

"Well, I don’t know what I could do for that."

"You know, your hair is very much like Carol’s. She’s done something. Why don’t you have Sharon ask her what she did?"

"OK, Mom."

Well, I was going to let it drop. I mean, what did I care if my hair had body. But Sharon had other ideas.

As usual, Sharon picked right after our intimate time one morning to talk about it. "Tom, your Mom tells me you’d like to have more body in your hair."

"Huh? When did she say that?"

"Oh, last week on the phone. She said you two had talked about it and that you wanted to have more body in your hair like Carol."

"We talked alright, but I …"

"I know, you feel a little self-conscience about it. That’s why you never said anything to me. You would be embarrassed to talk to me about putting more body in your hair wouldn’t you?"

"Well sure, any man would to tell his wife something like that."

"Of course, that’s why you can talk to your mother and not to me. It’s OK, I understand. But don’t worry, I talked with Carol and she said she was going in for a touch up on her body perm today. She called and her girl can do yours at the same time.

"Let’s have a quick bite to eat and we’ll get dressed and go over to Carol’s."

During breakfast, I tried to reconstruct just what had taken place. There I was in my turquoise nightwear eating a quick breakfast so I could go get my hair done. I really didn’t remember saying to anyone that I wanted it, but Sharon was sure that I wanted it. Did I? I know that I really liked my nightwear and the underwear that Sharon had me wearing these days. None of that had been my idea. At least not to begin with. Maybe my hair would look better with some body to it.

She orchestrated my dressing from the skin out. Underwear: bikini cut nylon briefs and satin tank top. Shirt: Silk shirt. Pants: A pair of black cotton/rayon blend slacks that I didn’t know I had. I liked them, but the waistband seemed a little high. Socks: black, smooth nylon dress socks, that came up to my knee. Shoes: Italian loafers. She dressed in her jeans and a cotton blouse. With that, we were off for Carol’s. It wasn’t too long; she lived in a new development in what we called "the big city." A town of about 500 thousand just 10 miles away.

"Hi guys." Carol said as she opened the door. "You’re just in time." She grabbed her purse and we all piled into her car. The shop turned out to be about 10 minutes away. I really didn’t have time to ask anything about what was going to be done. The Shop was called "Marcie’s Cut and Curl." It was attached to a house in a neighborhood. Marcie was just a few years older then Carol. She had a one-chair shop. Carol went first.

Sharon kept me occupied looking at books of women’s hairstyles. She’d look though the book and find a style, then show it to me and ask if I liked it. I’d say no or yes. If I said yes, she put a little ribbon in the page. All the while, Marcie was winding big rollers in Carol’s hair and spreading some evil smelling goop on them. After a time, she put Carol under a dryer. About then, Sharon asked me which hairstyle of the ones she had marked that I liked the best. I took the book and looked over the half dozen that I had liked.

The one I really liked the best was a kind of wavy thing that had a long, full part on top that stood away from the head. Sharon took the book and looked at it, nodded and smiled at me as Marcie invited me to sit in the chair.

"What are we going to do today?" She asked to no one in particular as she wrapped a drape around me. Sharon had followed me to the chair, still carrying the book. She laid it open on the counter.

"We’d like to add just a little body, don’t you think, Hun?" she said, looking at me. I was a bit nervous and my voice squeaked in answer.

"Yeah."

Sharon patted the book and went to sit down. Marcie combed through my hair a little. "I really think we should shampoo it first."

"Go ahead, Hun, you’ll love it," Sharon said from her seat.

Marcie laid me back into a special sink with a dip to accommodate my neck. It was nice having someone else wash my hair. She lathered it and rinsed it twice. Then wrapping towel around my head, she sat me up. After patting my hair dry, she combed it out.

To my surprise, she took some scissors and began to snip the ends of my hair. I looked at Sharon to see her reaction because I knew she was adamant about me not cutting my hair. She just smiled at me. Soon, after glancing at the book that Sharon had left on the counter, Marcie was winding some rollers in my hair. I was a little worried at this point, but Sharon seemed to be happy and I really trusted her, so I resolved to just relax and enjoy the attention.

After a time, I was all rolled up with the evil smelling goop on my hear and a kind of net thing around my head. Marcie went to the dryer and check on Carol. "Oh good. You’re ready," she told Carol and helped her stand up. "Your turn to bake," she said to me.

I took my place under the dryer. Carol looked down at my hands. "Look at those nails. They are really in rugged shape. Marcie, is Joanie here today?"

"Yes, she’s inside studying."

"What do you think Sharon? Don’t you think these nails could use some help?" she said holding up my hand.

"Your right. They do look terrible."

"Do you think Joanie would mind doing a manicure?" Carol asked Marcie.

"Oh, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind." Marcie put the hood down on the dryer and turned it on. She walked to a doorway that went back into the house. In a minute, she was back. A young girl, I’d judge to be about nineteen was with her. Marcie lifted the hood a little, leaned in close to my ear and said, "This is Joanie, she’s going to do your nails."

I looked up at the girl. She smiled and nodded. I nodded back. Marcie put the hood down and went to work on Carol. Joanie brought a small cart over from the corner and began working on my hands. First she put the fingertips of my right and into a finger bowl with a sticky liquid in it. She looked up at me and smiled, saying something that I couldn’t hear over the dryer. After a short time, she removed my right hand and did the same to my left. Then she took as small stick and pushed my cuticles back and lifted them a little. After they were all done, she took a small set of scissors and trimmed away the cuticles. I watched in fascination as she did the same to my left hand. Then she cleaned under each nail and began filing my nails. I looked up and saw that all the rollers were gone from Carol’s hair and Marcie was blow drying it and stroking it with a large brush. Sharon was reading a magazine but looked up and smiled at me. She came over and said something to Joanie. She smiled at me and touched my cheek and winked at me.

I glanced down at Joanie who smiled as she was filing my nails. I looked back at Carol. Marcie was brushing, and teasing. I found the whole process captivating. I jumped a little when I felt a cool liquid on my thumbnail. Looking down to see Joanie painting something nearly clear on it. She turned the label so I could read it. It said "Nail hardener." I guess she was trying keep my nails from splitting. I know that a couple of them had splits in them.

I began watching Carol again. Joanie kept working. After she finished with one hand Marcie was through with Carol. She looked really good. Marcie came over and checked my hair. "You’re done," she said to me. "You’ll have to finish up over here," she told Joanie. She helped me up and over to the chair. As Joanie worked, Marcie took out the rollers and laid me back into the sink. She rinsed it under a high-pressure spray then she poured some chemical over it. I was a little worried, I noticed she put on some clear plastic gloves to work it into my hair. After a little while, she rinsed it again. This time, she turned a spray nozzle on it and let it run while she took off her gloves and stepped away for a minute. Sitting up, I realized that Joanie was putting a second coat on my nails. I didn’t get to see too much, because Marcie was drying my hair with a towel rather vigorously.

Joanie was using a different bottle. She was busy and didn’t look up. I looked for Carol and Sharon and found them over by the door as if in conference. Carol noticed me looking. She smiled and gave me a little wave. Sharon turned, smiled and winked at me again. The look on her face was one that caused my heart to rise up in my chest. I smiled back. God how I love her.

Marie started in with the blow dryer and brush on me. She worked all around me. Trying not to disturb Joanie. My hair really hadn’t taken to much shape when Joanie began packing up her stuff.

"Don’t let your nails touch anything for about ten minutes," she smiled.

Then Marcie began working in earnest on my hair. She brushed, blow dried and brushed some more. Some times she would draw some up and brush it backward. Standing in front of me, she finished off with a comb and some hair spray. That disturbed me some. It had a scent and it wasn’t exactly pleasant. I hoped it wouldn’t be noticeable. After thinking, I realized that both Carol and Sharon both used hair spray all the time and I never noticed the scent on them.

A moment later Marcie turned the chair toward the door where Carol and Sharon were standing. "What do you think?" she asked.

"Perfect," Carol stated.

"Oh, your hair looks so much better. Promise me you’ll let Marcie keep it this way for you," Sharon begged.

"OK, if you like it that much," I said turning to look in the mirror but Marcie got in the way taking off the drape.

"I do, I do," Sharon assured me as she pulled me to my feet and hugged me. She knew just where to rub my back to melt me. I nearly need to go home in a bucket. The feel of her rubbing my back through the satin tank top and silk shirt was enough to make my head swim.

The next thing I knew we were heading out the door. "Wait, don’t we need to pay Marcie?" I asked.

"Oh, we took care of that while you were rinsing."

We all climbed back into Carol’s car. "I want to stop by the mall and pick up a few things. You guys don’t mind do you?" Carol asked as if it would make a difference. On the way to the mall, I realized that I never did get to the mirror to see what Marcie did to me. As soon as I was done, I was hustled out of the shop. Carol and Sharon chatted about what Carol wanted to buy. I could look at my nails without a mirror, so I did. I was shocked. The stuff that Joanie used wasn’t exactly clear, more like translucent with a kind of background color. A kind of… pink nearly skin color only more pink. And shiny too. My nails looked longer some how and narrower. They made my fingers look longer too.

I poked Sharon in the ribs lightly with my elbow. "The stuff Joanie put on my nails is pink," I told her.

"What?" She said. I held up my hand in front of her face. "Oh, maybe a little. Not enough to notice. If you don’t call any attention to them no one will ever notice."

Carol wheeled into the mall lot and cruised right up to the entrance where some one was just pulling out of a spot. She was carrying on about how lucky we were to find a spot so close. We were out of the car and into the mall in two minutes flat. Carol led the way to her favorite ladies shop. Carol was keeping step, but I was hanging back several paces. The prospect of hanging out with two women shopping wasn’t exactly the most attractive idea to come down the pike. Just before we got there, Mom appeared as if by magic.

"Carol, Sharon, over here," she called from a bench. "I thought you guys were taking Tom to Marcie’s today," she said crossing to us. Then she looked at me as I walked up. "Oh, I see you did. Tom your hair is gorgeous. She looked at me and then at Carol. "Carol, I think his hair looks better then yours."

"He picked out the hairstyle himself," Carol informed her.

"Oh?" She said stepping back and to the side to get a look at the whole style. "Very nice. I love it."

"He got his nails done too," Sharon offered holding up my hand.

"I love them, they’re so chic. The color is just right, there, but nicely understated. You’ll have to take better care of them now. No sense ruining such a nice manicure."

"We were just going to do some shopping. Would you like to join us?" Carol offered.

"I’m always up for some shopping," Mom said, hooking her arm in mine and falling into step with Carol and Sharon.

We entered and began looking at blouses. As much as I’d have liked to just find a place to sit and wait, they drug me down row after row of women’s clothes often asking my opinion of one or another blouse. One time when there weren’t any mirrors close by Sharon brought a blouse to Carol.

"What do you think of this one?"

Carol took a blouse and after holding it at arms length for a few minutes turned to me and said, "Here, hold this up so I can so I can see what it looks like." And pushed it up to my chest.

"Carol!" I hissed. "What are you doing?" I said pulling the blouse down and looking around to see if anyone noticed. I was relieved to see that there wasn’t anyone close by.

"Oh come on," Carol said. "Just hold it up to your neck. We’ve got the same skin tone. I just want to see if that color will go with my skin." She said pushing the blouse up again.

Embarrassed, I stood there impatiently waiting while she discussed it with Sharon.

"Yes," Sharon told her. "If you don’t buy it, I will."

"Oh I’m not really sure, I guess I’ll just have to see it on. Hang on to that one," she said walking away.

Next thing I knew all of them had handed me two or three blouses. Carol said. "You guys keep looking. I’m going to try some of these on." She came over to me and took the four that she was allowed to take into the dressing room and headed in that direction. When she was nearly there. I decided to follow her. I stopped near the entrance as Carol just waltzed in.

I stood there for a while. A sales clerk noticed me and walked over. "Would you like to try those on?" she asked smiling.

"Ah, … I…"

"Oh you really should," Sharon said stepping up behind. "How else will you know if they fit?" Sharon smiled at the clerk. "Come on Hun, I’ll help you." She ushered me into the fitting rooms and into a stall.

"Sharon, what are you doing? I’m not supposed to be in here," I whispered hoarsely.

"Look at yourself," she told me.

I turned to the mirror in the cubical. There we were, the two of us. I looked a lot more like a girl then Sharon did. My hair was full and wavy. On the top of my head it stood out like a halo. My silk shirt had a slight sheen to it. The slacks I was wearing did too. I touched myself on the chest with surprise. Even my hands looked like a girl.

"She thought I was a woman," I whispered.

"I guess so," Sharon agreed.

"What am I going to do now?"

"Well, you’re in here, you might just as well try on the blouses."

"Why?"

"How else will you know if they fit?"

"But these are for Carol, not me."

"Well, you the sales clerk thinks that’s what you’re doing."

"But…"

"Shhh. Just try them on for me. OK?"

"But…"

"Please? I’m having a great time. The sales clerk really thought you were a woman. You wouldn’t want to embarrass her would you. Besides we might get into trouble if she discovered her mistake." She was unbuttoning my shirt.

I guess I didn’t have a choice. I took off my silk shirt and hung it on a hook. Sharon had the first one off the hanger for me and was holding out. I slipped it on and turned around. She buttoned it for me; I kind of felt like a little kid. I no sooner had it on and Sharon called out. I turned to see it in the mirror. It was a rich turquoise; nearly sheer with a wide lapel and loose bloused sleeves that ended in wide cuffs. The buttons were hidden under a flap.

"Carol?"

"Right here," she said from the hall.

Sharon stepped out pulling me after her. "Isn’t this just divine?" she asked indicating me.

"It sure is. You really have to buy it. Gee, and I thought I was picking it out for me," she grinned. A look I didn’t quite understand passed between them.

"Let’s see what the others look like." Now I had Sharon in the stall with me and Carol standing in the doorway grinning while I tried on the next one. It was closer cut and a little tight across the shoulders. Off it came and on with the third. This one was a pull over. It had a keyhole button at the back of the neck. The ivory material was really smooth and shiny. The sleeves stopped just below the elbows and were really poofy where they attached to the shoulders. It was nice, but way too dressy for the pants I was wearing.

"That looks nice too, but put the first one on again. I want to see something," Carol said.

Off came the ivory one and on went the turquoise. When it was on, Carol stepped in and tucked it into my pants. She pulled and adjusted at it.

"Oh, that is you Tammy. You really have to buy it. What do you think Sharon?" Tammy?

"I agree. I’m buying it for you. As a matter of fact, you should wear it home. Come on," she said grabbing my shirt off the hook and gathering up the ivory one. She turned and walked out. Carol smiled and followed waving me to follow.

Sheepishly. I followed. I hesitated when I reached the entrance of the fitting rooms. Carol noticed and was immediately there and ushered me right up to the sales counter where Sharon had caught the attention of a clerk. The clerk was ringing up the ivory pullover.

"And this one too," Sharon told her indicating the blouse I had on.

"Alright." The clerk said smiling. She picked up a pair of scissors clipped the tags off the sleeve and rang it up too. She put my shirt and the ivory pull over in a bag for us. "Thank you, come again."

"Let’s go show Mom," Carol said.

I was ushered back to the racks where Mom was browsing.

"Hey Mom, look at this. It looked so good we just had to buy it," Carol said presenting me. Now I was really embarrassed. The clerk thought I was a woman, but Mom knew who I was.

"Oh, that is lovely dear and it is definitely your color," Mom said touching the collar. "But you know, it doesn’t quite hang right. See the darts? Here," she said taking my hand. "Come with me."

I hadn’t realized that we were just across the isle from the lingerie section. Before I knew it I was in a sea of bras.

"Ah, here’s what I’m looking for." She said, holding up a bra with such heavy padding it looked like someone had left their boobs in it. "What do you think Sharon, 36 or 38?"

"Oh I think 38."

"Umm. Well we’ll try one of each." Taking two in one hand and me by the elbow with the other, Mom guided me to the fitting rooms.

"Mom!" I said, once we were inside. "I’m not supposed to be back here."

"Now keep your voice down Tammy. You were already in trying on blouses," she said unbuttoning my blouse. Tammy?

She stripped off my satin tank top on and had me trussed up in the smaller bra before I could protest again. She poked and prodded pulling loose flesh up into the cups and adjusted the straps.

"There, how does that feel." She asked.

"It really cuts in here." I said indicating the strap around my chest.

"I should have listened to Sharon," she said unhooking the catch in the back. Then I was in the other one. She adjusted the straps and asked again. "How does that feel?"

"Better… "

"Good." She picked up my satin tank top and looked at it. "Do you really like this?"

Now I was embarrassed. I had to admit to my Mom that I liked an item that I knew in my heart was a piece of women lingerie. "Ah, well, yeah. Sort of."

"Really? It’s so plain. Wouldn’t you rather have something nicer?"

"I, a… "

"Of course you would wait right here." She left and was back in just a few minutes. I felt foolish standing there in a highly padded bra. "Here," she said, "I know you’ll like this on much better." She slipped lacy camisole over my head. I couldn’t believe it. My heart began to race. It began to bother me. She pulled the tags from the bra and camisole, then helped me on with my (?) blouse. Tucking it in to my blouse, she led me back out and paid for them.

Up till now, I had just been embarrassed about going into the dressing room. But now, I was excited as well. Both Carol and Sharon knew that Mom had taken me into the dressing room and fitted me for a bra. And even if they didn’t it was obvious. Looking at my chest. What’s more, I was sure that they knew about the lace camisole as well.

"Mom was right. That looks much better," Carol observed.

"Oh yes," Sharon agreed.

Like I said. It was obvious that I had the bra on. I noticed that Carol and Sharon had made a few purchases as well. We all headed back out into the mall. Carol and Sharon were walking side by side discussing where we should go next. Mom was walking arm and arm with me. She was just beaming. Like a kid with a new toy. I was deathly afraid we’d meet someone we knew. It didn’t seem to bother anyone else.

I was a bit shocked when I realized we were going into Penney’s, the very store that Sharon worked in. We marched right into the ladies department.

"Hi Sharon," one of the sales clerks sang. "What’s this? A busman’s holiday? Isn’t today your day off?"

"Well, yes, but we needed to do a little shopping. Ladies this is Anne, Anne this is my mother-in-law, Blanch. And this is my sister-in-law Carol."

"Hi Blanch, hi Carol." Anne said and then looked at me. "This must be Tammy. Hi Tammy. Sharon has told me so much about you. It’s nice to meet you," Anne continued shaking my hand. Tammy?

"Well," she continued. "I certainly don’t have to show you were anything is, but I’ll be right over there if you need me."

As a group, we wondered the aisles. They started looking at dresses. One of them was always engaging me in the appraisal of one dress or another. Once again, I was elected to hold the selections. I began to wonder if it would happen again. It wasn’t long before I didn’t have to wonder any more.

Sharon marched me right back to the fitting rooms. She helped me off with my blouse. She smiled at my camisole. "Nice," she said. Unzipping and holding up a dress, she slipped it over my arms.

"Why am I trying on a dress?"

"Because you can," she grinned slyly.

"But dresses? I mean, what am I going to do with dresses?"

"Wear them silly. What else would you do with them?" She was behind me zipping the dress. I looked at it in the mirror. It was a nice dress. Just then, she hiked up my dress and, reaching around from behind, undid my pants and pulled them down. I stepped out of them. Looking at my legs she spoke again. "Tammy, really! You should really shave your legs. Wait here."

With that, she marched out. I returned to my appraisal of the dress. It was a blue print. Some kind of floral design. The sleeves were full, ending about halfway down my forearms. The skirt was also full and came to just above my knees. There was just enough hair on my legs to spoil the look. Just then, Sharon came back in.

"Here," she said, "put these on." She handed me pair of black silky opaque tights. I kicked out of my shoes and pulled off my knee high socks and rolled up the tights just like before and pull one leg up to my mid thigh and folded it back down to my knee. I rolled up the other legs and skillfully inserted my other foot. I then pulled it up to my knee and began working both legs up my thighs. When I had it over my waist, I fluffed out the skirt of my dress and looked in the mirror. I saw Sharon standing behind me smiling.

She stepped around me, took me in her arms and kissed me very passionately. I nearly needed that bucket again. When she came up for air, she grinned at me. "You’ve got lipstick on and it’s crooked. Let me fix that." She reached into her purse. I expected her to come up with some tissue to wipe my lips with. Instead, she brought out her lipstick. She took my chin in her hand and said, "Like this," showing me how to hold my lips. I complied and she stroked my lips with the lipstick. "Now do this," she said rubbing her lips together. I followed her instruction. Next came a little blush on my cheeks. I stood there in the dressing room letting my wife put make up on me. She added a little earth tone eye shadow.

When next I looked into the mirror, if I hadn’t known myself, I might have been confused as to whether I was a man or a woman. Oh, don’t make any mistake, I wasn’t beautiful, but I’ve seen worse looking women.

"Next time," Sharon said, "we’ll have to do a more thorough job on your make up." I just stood there looking at myself and nodded.

"You’ll need some different shoes. Let’s buy the dress and go get you some." I dumbly followed her to the cash register where she cut off the tags and had Anne ring up the dress.

In the ladies shoe department, we looked at a number of shoes. I was drawn to a display of loafers. Masculine cut loafers. They looked like Italian loafers. Some in black and some in brown. "You’ve already got some like that," Sharon smiled. I looked down and sure enough, I was wearing the black pair. I ended up buying two pair of flats and three pair of mid-heeled pumps and a pair of sandals.

We had lunch at the food court and went back to Carols. There I discovered that there were many other purchases made. I had thought they were for Carol. Before I changed into a more dressy dress, I did shave my legs.

"Sharon," I said as I was pulling up a pair of black hose. "what gave you the idea to do all this?"

"Your mother and sister."

"What?"

"You remember the Labor Day picnic, before we were married?"

"Well yeah."

"We were taking about how I evened up my family by making my brother dress up and be my playmate. You had to answer a call from the fire department." I nodded. "After you left, your mother and sister told me how you used to get into their clothes when you lived at home."

"What? They… I… I mean… They never knew."

"Oh but they did. You started when you were about eight and kept right on though high school. You once ripped out the zipper of Carols school jumper and sewed it back in. You were good. They would never had known if the zipper hadn’t been broken in the process."

There was no way she could have known or even guessed about that zipper. "They never said a word. I quit when I went to college and up until you started buying things for me I never did it again. What’s with the name Tammy?"

"That’s what they called you between themselves. Whenever they noticed that something wasn’t put back right or had been worn when it was supposed to be fresh from the laundry, they’d say ‘Tammy’s been to visit again.’"

So that explains how it is that I’m here as nervous as a cat waiting for the waitress to bring our dinner in a very upscale restaurant wearing a blue cocktail dress. And why I’m looking forward to us having a girls night out once a week

I mean, really. I should have seen it coming.