The Other Woman – Part One

There are two women in his life and its finally time for them to meet.

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This story is dedicated to my friend and fellow author Warm Hearted, who has called me his cheerleader. We have become good friends and confidants, sharing comments and ideas on our stories as well as messaging and e mailing each other regularly.

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I can never find the proper words to say thanks to my editor and friend Chris, who finds the time in a busy life to review my ramblings with comments and insights. Busy editing for other authors at the same time, he is also an author in his own right.

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I had thought this story would only require One part and feel a second part is required to share the thoughts of how the Wife and children relate to The Other Woman.

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All feedback and comments are encouraged and welcome to help improve my writing skills

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The ‘other woman’ has been in our lives - yes, I did say our lives as my wife knows all about her – for many years now. I have not hidden her from my wife; I’m not able to do this really as she lives with us all the time and appears occasionally.

I should say the reason is I cross dress; there, I’ve said it, I’m a cross dresser, I love to dress as a woman. I have been dressing for many years now although I rarely go out dressed, especially where we live as it’s a small town.

No one would say anything if I said I love doing jigsaws, which I do, or love to read, which I also do. Well, I have to read or I wouldn’t know what I’m saying in this story! (Laughs to him/herself at that comment).

As soon as I mention I cross dress, horror of horrors people don’t want to know or are shocked. So, I don’t mention it, more’s the pity as its harmless and relaxes me after a day’s work.

Well I’m digressing here – OK, I’m waffling. Now, back to the other ‘other woman’, my wife.

Although my wife knows about the other woman she has not fully met her; she’s not happy about her although she was influential in her coming into our life and marriage.

Some of the earlier details about having ‘Samantha’ in our lives need not be fully shared here as they involve some horrid and terrible times for my wife and her sisters with regard to a male relation.

To this day - we’ve been married a fair length of time - she has not told me all that happened and I won’t ask for her sake. I can only be there for her when she is ready.

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Well today’s the day, or, more accurately, the evening when my wife gets to meet the other woman fully - and I meant fully, fully with makeup, wig, the full works so to speak.

There she lies on the bed in all her feminine glory. Well the lingerie, anyway; the skirts and dresses are hanging in the wardrobe along with more choices of blouses – a girl can never have too much clothing!

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When did I start dressing? I’m not sure exactly, the first thing I do remember was wearing my mum’s bathing costume after my brother chickened out of trying it on. Strange, years later I saw a picture of him fully dressed for a party around the end of October.

Why mum’s costume? Well our sister is ten years younger - frilly panties did not appeal back then; today would be a different story altogether.

With my wife, the first item I remember was a pantie girdle followed by a pair of tights and in jest she called me Samantha at first, then later Sammie and on occasion ‘pussycat’.

So, how and when I got into cross dressing I’m not sure; I don’t feel in all honestly a woman trapped in a man’s body, although I have the greatest respect for those who do.

Our culture tends to focus on two genders: male and female. Some other cultures freely accept a third gender, where a person can be transgendered. In the orient, there appears an acceptance of men who openly dress and live as female without having an operation to change gender.

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Some years ago, my wife suffered a major trauma event which really changed all our lives when she nearly died on us. Having collapsed at work twice within a month, the first time, just prior to Christmas, was thought to be just a bad migraine and was sent home to rest. The second time, in mid-January, was worse again ending up in the local hospital.

It was discovered after taken head scans and referring them to a larger hospital in the city that she needed to be transferred to this hospital as soon as possible. That same night my wife was transferred for observation and a major operation on her brain due to having three aneurysms and ever since her memory has been poor and I often have to remind her of things it is difficult for her to remember.

Why did the above have a considerable influence involving the other woman? Well, I will try to elaborate over the rest of the story.

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I had reserved two rooms next door to each other, one for my wife and one for the other woman, at a hotel we use regularly where we normally have one room.

Two rooms? Well I was not fully sure of her reaction to meeting Samantha in person in her full war paint and dress.

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The day my wife was having her operation I was a wreck; our daughter was with me for support. They were longer in theater than expected although we were on the correct side for her recovery.

When we arrived home that evening I went to bed wearing one of her nightdresses so that I had something of hers close to me; it helped a bit but the tears still flowed.

My wife spent ten days in hospital and with us having a family of our own I could not stay with her all the time as I had to support them as well as myself.

Due to the time of year there would be little daylight to drive in and I decided the ‘other woman’, Samantha, would join me on the drive home. I know why I had ‘her’ with me in the suitcase in the boot - I needed the stress relief; nothing at all in a sexual way, just I was so much calmer when wearing some of Samantha’s clothes.

Amazing what a bra and panties set can do to settle me down.

OK, the first time it was just the bra and panties set but later on the suitcase had skirts, tops, shoes, stockings, all a woman requires including makeup and a coat.

Popping into the toilets I got changed into Samantha - at this time it was putting on the underwear and then the top cover of male clothing for the journey home to the children.

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It is time for the male side of me to slip inside and allow the female side to reappear if only for a shot time - I often wish it were for more than a few hours.

I prefer to have a long soak in the bath so I had made sure the room had a full-sized bath and not a three-quarter sized one. I just cannot relax and soak in one of those.

The bath water running, I mix the bubble bath to soft gentle bubbles as the steam floats around the bathroom misting up the mirror.

Making sure the shaving foam and new razor blades are handy before checking the bath temperature was ideal to step into, I slip out of my house coat. Normally when I bathe I like to read and today is no exception. Holding my tablet carefully I slip lower into the water then find the page to continue reading from.

“You going to get that, sweetcheeks?” Jenny asked as Abi stared at the phone in shocked silence, her eyes wide with disbelief.

“It’s him,” she said, more to herself than to her friend.

The water starts to cool as I get deeply engrossed in the story; I only notice this when I start shivering. Putting the tablet safely out of the way, I top the hot water up and reach over for the razor and shaving foam to seek out any stray hairs.

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On one occasion a visit to the hospital resulted in the one of the biggest errors any crossdresser can make.

For the journey home I was wearing high heels, stockings and a short black (almost mini) skirt, with knee length coat, handbag and full make-up. While this may be lovely to wear unfortunately it can also give the wrong signals to other males as it can and often does make them think you are looking to be more intimate.

The vast majority of cross dressers are heterosexual and dress for their own pleasure; sure, some may be gay or bi, but I believe that for the majority it’s just for the joy of dressing. Yes, for many it can be sexual, especially in the early days of dressing, but… well, I suppose really, we all have our own reasons for dressing.

Anyway, on the way home I felt tired and for safety reasons pulled into a lay by for a cat nap and a comfort break. There were already two cars there, both just with parking lights on and some movement in the back of one of them.

I went into the bushes to have a comfort break (what, none of you ever been caught short?), managing to tear my stockings on some thorns in the process.

“Damn, my last good pair until I get home!” I thought ruefully.

By the time I got back to my car, one of the other vehicles had driven off. The other car occupier was watching me and turned his lights on full to see me, which blinded me for a moment or two. It also shocked me at the same time – hardly surprising, considering how I was dressed! The man wound his window down and asked if I was looking for business; my tiredness seemed to vanish and, my heart pounding, I got in my car and drove away.

Having made sure his car did not follow me I started to relax a little and further up the road stopped to put on some male outer wear.

It’s fine to dress in the other genders clothing as long as it’s not for any illegal reasons but this experience taught me that it’s a good idea to give some thought to how you dress and where you go.

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Stepping out of the bath I pull the plug; I’m hoping it’s not the last thing that I pull today, I’m praying that my wife will accept the ‘other woman’ in person. I glance over to the bed where my new full length, black, see-though nightdress lies on the pillow.

I put the dressing gown back on with a little shiver and not just from coming out of the bath – I’m nervous about this evening. Having dressed for years and more recently fully, this evening is special as I am about to reveal to one woman in my life the other woman, both of whom I love. One very, very, deeply; the other, the other me… well love may be too strong a term here. ‘Like and enjoy’ might be more accurate.

Time to stop and get dressed for this evening. I do my toe nails and finger nails in deep red and wait for them to dry before continuing to dress.

I am fortunate in my build and size, only 5 feet 4 tall, medium build with size 7 feet, comfortable with a size 34c Chest, padded bras are wonderful for me to wear, fitting comfortably into size 14 to 16 clothing and size 8 ladies’ shoes for comfort.

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I tend to purchase a lot of my female clothing from online shopping sites and / or charity shops – I’ve ended up probably having more ladies’ clothes than male. I also have a passion for stockings, preferably seamed, and particularly love Cuban heeled stockings, normally black with a red seam. To go with the stockings of course you need something to clip them on to if they’re not hold-ups. Back to the computer another on line search for Basques or suspender belts.

The thing for most cross dressers we must be aware of is how we dress and we really should be careful. We tend to dress very femininely and by this, I mean we tend more to dress with skirts and dresses with nylons and high heels. We stand out just by the way we dress, never mind adding makeup. My female wardrobe has no trousers, joggers or slacks in it at all.

Most women, with modern styles and cultural acceptance, tend more to wear trousers, slacks and jogging-type bottoms and rarely daily dress with skirts and dresses; these seem to be reserved more for formal functions or special occasions.

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For tonight I have chosen a beautiful matching bra and panties set, with a suspender belt in black with some purple floral detail which complements the other underwear perfectly.

The skirt is half calf length in faux black leatherette with back zip and a lower slit for ease of walking. My blouse hanging next to my skirt on the wardrobe rail is dark purple, almost see through, full sleeved with floral decoration similar to that on the lingerie.

I am no beauty although I can be presentable so, sitting at the vanity, it’s foundation, setting powder and a check to see if another layer is required. Three shades of brown eyeshadow blended together to help my blue eyes stand out. Working with the mascara, still occasionally poking the corner of my eye – ouch! Satisfied that it’s passable I move on to my lips and put a couple of coats of red lipstick on and that’s it - ready for what is about to happen this evening.

Well not entirely ready; there’s the wig cap and soft mousy-blonde wig, shoulder length with some curls, to put on and secured with discreetly placed hair clips.

Checking that the red seams of my stockings are straight I slip on my skirt before putting on my blouse. Slipping on my black three-inch wedge heels I check my watch and see that I still have around ten minutes before my wife comes to meet the other woman in our lives.

Glancing around the room to check that it’s tidy I turn the main light off; with just the wall lights on the room has a better ambience. The radio is on, with a local channel playing music in the background. I check in the bathroom mirror and put on the long clip on earrings and using my favorite scent A Hint of Musk, put a little on my wrists and spray a little under my skirt. Finally, I spray some into the air and walk thought the mist it forms so it covers my head and top of the body.

There is a knock on the door and, with one final check in the full-length mirror, I open it to see my wife dressed as lovely as ever. I step back to let her in and she gives me that all over look.

“So, you’re the woman my husband is involved with” she whispers.

As I close the door behind her she adds, “Samantha, we need to talk…”

The End of Part One