Photo credit Photo by Luke Stackpoole on Unsplash

My wife went to UCLA and while there she was roommates with the daughter of the British Consul who was also attending there. They became “Besties” since my wife is third generation British with some Scottish thrown in. That was years ago, but they sort of kept in touch. Not weekly phone calls or even letters. But Christmas cards and birthday cards. Of course they were friends on Facebook.

I got the opportunity to go to London on business. I was there with another member of the firm to do the grunt work while he negotiated a contract, but the company generously allowed me to bring my wife. Since she had a friend in the country we decided to extend our stay for a week on my own dime.

While I was working, my wife reconnected with her old friend Caelia. When my business was concluded, we were invited to Caelia’s for the week. She had married Gerald who came from an aristocratic family. However, he was a bit of a black sheep. He did well in school, but always seemed to skirt the edge of trouble. Nothing serious, just a little scandalous. A bit of an embarrassment for his parents. He mellowed only slightly when he married.

My wife Sharon told me that after Caelia had been in school in California the rigid social norms of the British high society seemed more than a little stifling and so she was attracted to Gerald in a big way. We were due to fly out Monday morning. You get a better fare flying mid-week. Caelia didn’t work, so she did the sightseeing tour guide bit. We saw Buckingham palace, the new London Bridge, “Big Ben”, properly known as Elizabeth Tower she informed us, the Tower of London, Westminster Abbey and took a ride on the London Eye. That’s the biggest Ferris wheel I’ve ever seen.

Friday morning at breakfast Gerald had an announcement.

“I know that I’ve been busy with work and haven’t really had much time to spend with you two, so I feel a bit guilty about not seeing that you had a good time while you were here. I know this is your last weekend here, so I would like to give you a great send off. I’ve called in a favor and the four of us have been invited to a fancy dress party tomorrow night.”

I guess the Brits have fancy dress parties often. They are theme parties where you’d expect to wear a costume of some sort. Maids and Butlers, Vicars and Tarts and the French Revolution are but a few of the themes that are popular. The one we were going to was a “Turn-about” party. The theme for a “turn-about” party is to dress as your spouse. So the four of us would have to pass clothes back and forth trying to come up with some cross-dressing outfits that mostly fit.

I knew it wouldn’t be too bad, I’m a little on the tall and lanky side where as my wife is a bit on the husky side, but Gerald and Caelia were the opposite. After poking around a bit, it was decided that Gerald could wear Sharon’s clothes and I could wear Caelia’s. That meant that Sharon wore Gerald’s and Caelia wore mine. Gerald and I were in the lounge, (read family room) Saturday after a late lunch discussing the upcoming party,

“So, just how far are you going to go with the cross-dressing,” Gerald wanted to know.

“I don’t know, Dress and shoes and a wig?”

“Last time we went to a turn-about party, Caelia insisted that I wear suspenders and stockings. That meant I had to shave my legs. That time I borrowed from my sister.”

“Suspenders?”

“The belt with the dangly bits that hold up stockings.”

“Oh a garter belt. I don’t think that Sharon has a garter belt or stockings. She might have some pantyhose.”

“You mean tights? No that won’t do. It’s summertime and it would be altogether too warm. Not to mention a real pain in the arse when using the loo. That’s OK; my sister didn’t want the pants and such back. So I still have them. I’m sure that Caelia has some you can borrow.”

“Pants? I thought we were wearing dresses.”

“Underpants, you know knickers.”

“You wore panties?”

“I couldn’t see any reason not to. I mean I had to wear a brassiere and slip and what with the suspenders and stocking it was the only thing left. Besides, my underpants would have been too bulky under the clingy dress my sister loaned me.”

Just then Sharon and Caelia walked in bringing the clothes we would be using for a costume.

“Hey Blaine, Caelia tells me it’s a custom at these parties for men to go all out in cross-dressing. What kind of panties do you want to wear? Caelia has all kinds,” Sharon said.

Caelia stood by with one of Sharon’s dresses draped over her arms while Sharon dropped a dress and pair of shoes on the couch next to me and then started extracting panties from one of the plastic shopping bags she had, identifying each one as she brought them out. The first pair out was a pair of thongs. It seemed unreal to refer to them as a “pair,” there was hardly enough material for one of anything let alone a “pair.” Then came boy shorts, followed by some full cut briefs. Then some hip hugger and bikini panties. “Caelia calls these French knickers.” I was informed as she pulled out a pair of loose legged panties with wide lace trim. Last out were some control panties that had a bit of padding in the butt. Seeing as how Caelia was challenged in that area, I could see why she might want something like that when wearing some close fitting trousers.

Sharon grinned at me mischievously. “I think that the control briefs are the best bet. You could wear one of the others underneath for more comfort,” Sharon told me.

I blushed at the thought of wearing any kind of panties, especially Caelia’s. Sharon then extracted a bra from the bag.

“I’m sure the band size is right. I know you have a 36 inch chest. But we’re going to have to figure out something to fill the cups.”

What Caelia lacked in the butt department she made up for in the bust. I’d had noticed that about her right away. I don’t know the cup size; I don’t really think that it was any larger than Sharon’s but on her thin frame, they looked huge.

“Not to worry,” Gerald said. “I’ve been to turn-about fancy dress parties many times. I have some forms that will do brilliantly.”

I arched my eyebrows.

“Yes, Gerald takes this sort of thing quite seriously,” Caelia confirmed.

“So, what kind of panties do you want to wear under the control brief?” my wife wanted to know.

The thongs were out. I’d seen women with some low-ride pants bend over exposing their whale tail and I knew that the back would ride up in the crack. I reasoned that the bikini would just be too skimpy and the boy shorts would not be a good match. And I couldn’t see the French knickers under the control brief. They would be worse than the boy shorts. That left me with the full briefs or the hip huggers. Since the control briefs were much the same size and cut as the full briefs that pretty much cinched it in my books.

“Those I guess,” I said pointing at them.

She put them along with the control brief and bra into the second bag she had.

Looking back, though I was oblivious at the time, I see that I wasn’t asked if I wanted to wear panties. Clearly, my tighty-whities would have sufficed. It was a given; the phrasing of the question left no doubt that I’d be wearing panties, my choice was what kind. They cleverly made it seem that I was choosing to wear panties.

“I suppose that we should see that everything fits,” Sharon said.

“What about you guys? Don’t you need to find something of ours you can wear?” I wanted to know.

“What do you think took us so long? We’ve got that sorted,” Caelia informed me.

Sharon and I retired to our room where she told me to strip down to my tighty-whities. Just then there came a knock at the door. Sharon went to answer it, opening it just a crack; then slipped out not quite closing the door. I grabbed my jeans and held them in front of me.

“Here are the forms that Gerald mentioned. I should have given them to you when we were picking out the dress,” I heard Caelia’s voice say.

“Won’t Gerald need them?”

“Oh, he has more than one set. These are his least favorite. He says they are too small on his frame. They should fill my bra nicely and look good on Blaine.”

Sharon came back carrying two white boxes.

“I suppose we should get your bra on first. Then we can try on the dress,” Sharon said.

She pulled a bra out of the bag.

“Hold your arms out.”

I complied and she slipped the straps over my arms. Stepping behind me she fastened it. She ran a finger back and forth behind the band.

“That’s about right. How does it feel?”

“Tight.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

She opened one of the boxes and turned it over depositing a flesh covered blob in her hand. She looked up smirking.

“Quite lifelike,” she said, holding a woman’s boob out to me.

She was right, it was lifelike. The color was right on and there was a dark areola about an inch and a half across with a rather large nipple protruding from the center. She glanced back at the box and put it in the right cup. Then she got the other one out for the other side.

“These are heavy.”

“Now you see what women go through every day. Wear then long enough and you’ll get used to them. The advantage women have over you is that theirs grow slowly. You just had them dumped into your bra fully grown.” She stifled a giggle.

“We won’t worry about the slip and panties for now. Let’s try the dress.”

It was a sleeveless, pastel blue number with a scoop neckline and a full skirt. Sharon helped me with it. Caelia, while thin like me, was about six inches shorter. So the dress that would have hit her just below the knees hit me about four inches above.

Sharon smiled as she stepped back to survey me. She pointed a finger down and rotated it in a tight circle. I turned a slow three-sixty.

“Good, very good. When you get the control brief with its padding on, it’ll be even better. Let’s see about the shoes. Put these on first.”

She handed me a pair of knee highs. I sat on the bed and mimicking what I’d seen Sharon do a million times, I bunched them up and slipped them on.

“Caelia thought these sling backs might be best for you. When she tried on your shoes she seemed to think that your feet must be a half size larger than hers. If that’s the case, we can adjust the strap. Plus they have a low heel. That’s probably best since you’re not accustomed to walking in heels.”

After a bit of fiddling with the strap, she had me stand. They weren’t all that bad; the heel was only about an inch and a half and looked like it was squashed down, so that it was thin near the shoe and wide where it contacted the floor. A few tentative steps and I was able to master them easily.

“Well, now all we have to do is decide which wig you should wear. Let’s see how Caelia is faring with Gerald.”

I was self-conscious as we stepped out in the hall. I’d chanced a look in the mirror and I looked ridiculous; a man’s head stuck on a tall skinny woman’s body with oversized boobs. I was considering bagging the whole idea, but everyone else was all gung ho to do this and I didn’t want to be a party pooper in front of Sharon’s friend.

Sharon knocked at their bedroom door. Caelia opened it and smiled at me.

“My, don’t you look nice.” She turned and stepped away from the door. Gerri dear, doesn’t Blaine look nice?

“Oh yes, put a wig on you and a little makeup, and you’ll be perfect.”

He was standing there in Sharon's dress. It was obvious that he hadn’t taken any short cuts. Like me, he was taller, so the dress was shorter. He had a lot of leg showing and as a leg man I didn’t fail to notice the sheen of sheer jet black stockings. By comparison, my legs looked comical in knee high stockings and noticeable hair. It was also obvious that his legs were hairless. He was wearing a pair of strappy, high heeled sandals with at least a three inch spike heel. When he walked over to the vanity, it was obvious it wasn’t his first time wearing that kind of heel. Nary a wobble or misstep. On the vanity there were three wigs on stands.

Caelia said something to Sharon that I didn’t catch.

“Well he hasn’t shaved his legs yet and I thought the hair would look unsightly. But everything fits really well, don’t you think?” Sharon answered.

“I was about to put on my makeup. You can watch if you’d like some tips on how to do it properly,” Gerald told me.

I watched, mesmerized, as Gerald deftly applied foundation, and powder. He continued on starting to work on his eyes.

“You don’t have to continue watching if you don’t want to,” Sharon said. “I’ll do your makeup for you. But then maybe you’d like to learn how.”

I snapped my head around.

“I … I don’t think I need to learn how. I mean this is only one night right?”

“OK then, let’s get you into the shower. There’s a hairy problem we need to take care of.” She smiled at her own pun.

It was back to our room, out of the dress, shoes and knee highs. Wrapped in a robe, not mine, but one of Caelia's, I followed Sharon to the guest bath. She handed me a tube of Veet.

“Rub this into your legs, wait about ten minutes; then get into the shower and rinse it off.”

“What’s this?”

“It’s a depilatory cream. It will get rid of the hair on your legs better than shaving. While you’re there, wash your hair with the shampoo, but don’t rinse it until you used some of the lather to shave you pits.”

“Why do I need to shave my pits?”

“The hair there is far too coarse for the Veet. By the time it removed the hair, it would give you a nasty rash.”

“I mean why can’t I just leave them.”

“Silly, it's a sleeveless dress. Every time you raised your arms, people would see that bush you’ve got growing there. I’ve left my razor next to the shampoo. Don’t take too long. You’ll need to shave your face really close as well. Your electric razor won’t do a good enough job, so use the blade there as well.”

I started rubbing the Veet on my legs as she left.

“It might start tingling leave as long as you can stand it; ten minutes at the most,” she said just before closing the door. There was timer on the counter so I set it for ten minutes. With about three minutes left on the timer, my legs started to tingle. The tingling got more intense. I reached in and turned on the shower and adjusted the water temp. I was tempted to just jump in and rinse the damned stuff off, but I decided to man up and take it. I mean if women can do it, I should be able to also. The timer went off none too soon. I was holding it. I turned off the notice, put it down and stepped into the shower. I grabbed the hand held wand and directed the spray to my legs. The pressure felt a lot stronger than it had that morning when I showered, but it was heavenly to get that burning cream off. I watched in amazement as the hair on my legs went down the drain.

Remembering my instructions, I washed my hair and raised a good lather. I was dubious to say the least about shaving my pits. But with my hair gone from my legs I wouldn’t likely be going swimming until it grew back, and I wasn’t in the habit of wearing tank tops so no worries there.

Out of the shower, I found some shaving gel and lathered up my face. It had been quite a while since I’d last shaved with a blade, so I took it slow. I figured that if Sharon was going to put foundation on my face it would be better not to have any nicks.

Sharon poked her head in as she passed the door and asked, “Are you about through?”

She was dressed in a pair of Gerald’s dress slacks and a powder blue oxford shirt. Her breasts seem so small that they could be overlooked. On her feet were a pair of wing tips. I didn’t know anyone who wore wing tips. They looked a little big on her, but I think only because I knew what size her feet were when she wore the trim women’s fashions that she preferred.

Back in our room, she sat me down and started with all sorts of pots and brushes and worked over my face. I objected when she started plucking eyebrow hairs.

“I won’t take too much. But you have some wild ones growing outside the brow line and I want to thin them just a little to even up the line.”

I gritted my teeth and winced with every hair that went bye-bye. When I looked in the mirror, I was relieved to see that I still had brows. I was afraid that she would get carried away and I’d end up with thin arches above each eye. As it was there was a noticeable difference from before, but if I fluffed them up a bit I thought I could make them look manly enough.

With the makeup on, the brows were definitely feminine and fit right in with my new look. It seemed my cheek bones had grown in size and prominence and my nose narrower as well as my chin just a little more pointed. ’How the hell did she do that?’

“Time to get dressed,” Sharon announced.

It started with the garter belt. It was a heavy duty affair about five inches wide that fastened in the back, black with lace trim. The high waist was very close fitting and I needed to suck in my stomach to get it fastened. Each side had three garter straps hanging down.

“Don’t I need to put my panties on first?” I asked.

“No, if you do that you’ll not be able to sit on the pot without unfastening your garters. With your garter straps inside, you can just pull your panties down and there’ll be no problems. Trust me this is the best way.”

She helped me get the hose on and fastened to the garter straps. My freshly denuded legs were aware of the silky sensation as the nylons were drawn up to my thighs. Then I pulled on the briefs and Sharon stopped me before I could put the control panties on.

“I asked Caelia about what to do with your male equipment. She says there are two schools of thought. The conventional wisdom is to tuck it back between your legs and use a gaff or panty girdle to keep it there. But she says that Gerald finds it more practical to pull it back against your belly and let the panty girdle keep it there. That way, it’s more comfortable keeping your knees together and crossing your legs in a ladylike fashion.”

It was sounding more and more like Gerald knew an awfully lot about cross-dressing. But I was all for comfort. So it was Gerald’s way. I’ll admit that I was surprised at the feeling of nothing between my legs. It wasn’t like I’d lost anything, but in some unmeasurable way I gained. The thing I really noticed was when standing the overriding presence wasn’t there and I stood with my legs closer together. I ruminated on that and came to the conclusion that was the way women stood… legs together.

Sharon put the slip over my head and I shivered a bit as the slick, silky material cascaded over my body. Next up was the dress. I don’t think there is any piece of men’s clothing that compares to that dress. Not in the cut, the fit nor the fabric. The material was almost gossamer; hence the need for the slip, but it was just a dark enough shade of blue that in normal light there was nothing amiss. However when I stood in front of the mirror and the bedside lamp was behind me I could tell where the lace trimmed hem of the slip was and see the shadow of my legs. Sharon brought out a package of temporary fingernail extensions and proceeded to push back and trim my cuticles before using super glue to affix them to my nails and polish them.

“Don’t be concerned about getting these off; a little soaking in acetone will take them right off.”

I was a bit overwhelmed by all the little details she went to for a party. As I was blowing on my nails to dry them, Sharon remembered one big detail.

“Oh, the wig. We should have gotten one when we were in their room. Wait right here and don’t touch your face. I’ll be right back.”

That comment made me raise my eyes to my face in the reflection. Now it was only my hair that looked out of place. Again, I marveled at just how much the makeup she put on me changed the contours of my face. I’d always thought I had a decidedly masculine face, but not now. It was definitely feminine. I stood staring in disbelief.

Sharon came back accompanied by Caelia. They brought one of the wigs on its stand.

“How do you feel all dressed in feminine finery,” Caelia wanted to know as she placed the wig on our dresser.

“Well,” I said, as I lifted my ersatz boobs, “these will take some getting used to.”

Caelia’s face registered alarm. She turned to Sharon.

“You didn’t glue them in place?”

“No, was I supposed to?”

“Most assuredly. If he bends over, we don’t want them roaming around. There’s enough stretch in the bra to allow them unnatural movement. We need to fix that right now.”

She came to me and unzipped the dress to the middle of my back and pushed the shoulder straps off and extracted my arms. She likewise slid the bra and slip straps down and removed the forms.

“Lay down on your back,” she instructed.

I complied with my head swimming. ‘Glue them in place? What kind of glue and how do I get them off when I want to?’

Caelia shook each of the boxes the forms had been in and took the plastic cradle out. Underneath was a small aerosol can. She spayed the back of each form generously and then one at a time she carefully placed them on my chest, slightly lower than they had sat in the bra. Not a lot, maybe a quarter of an inch. She took my hands and placed them on the boobs.

“Press down and hold them in place for a few minutes.”

“How… how do I get these off when the time comes?”

“We have a release agent that makes short work of it. Even if we didn’t, they would detach themselves in a fortnight.”

“I think I’d like to use the release agent.”

She glanced at the clock.

“Alright, that’s enough time. Sit up.”

When I did, she pulled the bra straps back over my shoulders. She tugged the bra down a bit and then reached inside and pulled up on the forms moving my skin with them. She tightened the straps. It felt a lot tighter than before. Looking down I blinked. The forms were just out of sight under the bra and the skin above them was mounded up, forming a realistic cleavage. As I stared in disbelief, she threaded my arms back into the dress and pulled me to my feet. Zipped back into the dress, I went to the mirror again. In the lowest dip of the scoop neckline there was now a noticeable rise of flesh giving the illusion of breasts.

“It looks much better, doesn’t it?” I nodded. “Let’s get your wig sorted, shall we?”

She sat me in a chair and began brushing my hair. Sharon handed her bobby pins as she needed them. When she was finished with that, she put a stretchy cap over my head that was kind of like it was made of fish net stockings only heavier. She then secured that with bobby pins and finally put the wig over that. And secured the front with double face tape and the back with more bobby pins. She fussed with it some and invited me to take a look.

In front of the mirror I was amazed at the transformation. I won’t say I was beautiful, but I was definitely feminine. I doubt that any man would come on to me but I looked enough like a woman that most people would take me as one without a second glance.

Just then, Gerald came to the door. He looked even better than I did. If I saw him on the streets and didn’t know it was him I’d have had a second look. I’m only human and a good looking woman is a feast for the eyes. Looking at a good looking woman is like looking at a piece of art. Gerald fit the bill.

“We should probably leave straight away,” he said.

“I think we’re all ready,” Caelia said.

Caelia drove. I know I sure couldn’t; I’d have caused an accident the first time I had to rely on conditioned reflex to avoid a problem. We arrived at about six. I was OK going from their house to the car, but when we arrived at the home of the host, I panicked a bit. I wasn’t sure that I’d be able to get out.

A valet, a woman with her short hair slicked back wearing black slacks, a white collarless shirt, vest, only in London it’s a waistcoat because a vest is an undershirt, and highly polished oxfords came to the driver’s door and opened it. Caelia got out and the valet gave her a ticket. Another valet opened the passenger door and Sharon got out, taking my hand and nearly dragging me out of the car. Gerald was beaming as Caelia walked around the car. She took Gerald’s hand and put it in the crook of her arm. Sharon observing that did the same with me. As a group we mounted the steps. Caelia and Gerald set a brisk pace and fearing we’d be separated, I hurried along to keep up. I glanced over at Sharon, who was smiling and looking around in wonder. I seemed to be the only one with any misgivings about our adventure.

Once inside it became apparent that not everyone went “all out.” It seemed that most of the younger set did, but in the over forty crowd it was hit and miss. Some of the men were sporting mustaches and I saw a couple of them actually had beards… well goatees. Some simply wore women’s pantsuits and clipped a barrette in their short hair. Their wives seemed to make more of an effort. Most were wearing three piece suits and ties all tied in a proper Windsor knot.

Most of the young guys wore makeup and high heels of varying heights. I noticed that those wearing spiked heels like Gerald seem to have no trouble getting around in them. Very few, however, looked nearly as good as Gerald and there were many that didn’t look as good as I did.

Gerald introduced us to a number of his friends and business associates. I couldn’t tell you one of their names after moving on to socialize with another group. There was a buffet table and through the evening we all managed to eat something. There was an open bar tended by two women dressed much like the valets, only the valets had red waistcoats and the bartenders had black to match their trousers. The bartenders also wore collared shirts and ties. We did drink quite a lot. Well I did anyway. I suspect Caelia moderated her drinking because when it came time to drive home she seemed perfectly in control. After the alcohol loosened me up I have to admit that I did enjoy myself.

It was after two in the morning when we called it quits and headed back to their house. I was having a bit of a time not nodding off in the backseat. On reaching their house I needed the toilet. And when I came out Sharon informed me that Gerald and Caelia had gone to bed.

“She said, and I quote, ‘We’ll sort out things in the morning.’ She gave you a nightgown to wear to bed.”

Sharon did help me remove the wig as she thought sleeping in it wouldn’t be a good idea because she was sure it was human hair. But she left the wig cap on and well of course the boobs were glued in place so they weren’t going anywhere.

Waking in the morning, I needed to empty my bladder. It was a bit unnerving to discover I still had boobs, although without a bra, and was wearing a nightgown. I glanced at the clock as I headed for the bathroom and was amazed to see that it was after ten in the morning. The nightgown was long and I was still wearing the control brief. With all the fuss of everything, I just sat down after I pulled them down. I don’t know why I didn’t just take them off, but instead, I pulled them back up and positioned things as I had every time I’d used the restroom the night before. On the way back to my room, I encountered Caelia.

“Oh, good job you’re up. Is Sharon up as well?”

“She wasn’t when I left the room.”

“I have a nice brunch ready. Wake Sharon and come down as soon as you can.” She looked me up and down a bit and said, “You really should have put on the dressing gown that goes with your nightdress. I gave it to Sharon last night. The nightdress is nearly transparent without it. Oh, you might want to put your wig back on as you look a little discordant without it.” She must have seen the shock I felt at the suggestion. “Not to worry, Gerald is wearing his. It will be quicker than trying to undo everything else.”

With that she turned and headed back to the kitchen. I went to our bedroom and surveyed myself in the mirror. Caelia was right. The nightgown was practically see-through and my head didn’t match my body. I took the wig off its stand and tugged it on my head. I wasn’t about to try to pin it in place.

“Sharon,” I said as I gently shook her shoulder. When she roused I continued, “Caelia says that she’s got brunch ready and wants us to come down as quickly as possible. Where’s the dressing gown, or robe or whatever that goes with the nightgown. I don’t think I want to prance around letting everyone see my underwear or lack of a bra.” Now there’s a problem I’d never had before; going without a bra.

“Oh the robe is hanging on the back of the closet door,” Sharon told me as she levered her way out of bed. She grabbed her robe off the top of the dresser. “Tell them I’ll be right there. I need the potty.”

I found the robe. It wasn’t a whole lot more dense than the gown, but between the two of them they did a fair job of covering things. My slippers were a bit masculine for the rest of the get up, but as needs be. A quick look in the mirror and I was amazed at just how feminine I looked even without makeup.

On entering the kitchen I was relieved to see that not only was Gerald wearing a nightgown and wig, but he had on a pair of mule slippers that were decidedly feminine. He still had an obvious bustline and his nail extensions were still in place like mine were. Unlike me, he had put on lipstick.

“Help yourself to coffee and take a seat; I’ll have your breakfast there in a moment.”

It had been a relief to find out that with Caelia’s time in the US she had come to appreciate real coffee, as opposed to the instant that other Brits made do with and had a French press that brewed nicely. Coffee in hand, with three lumps of sugar, I sat. True to her word, she had a plate of eggs and French toast in front of me in no time.

“Sharon will be down as soon as she’s through in the bathroom.”

I no sooner started eating and Sharon showed up. She seemed to know the drill and went straight to the French press and poured herself a cup. Caelia was right behind her with a plate as well,

“So, what’s the plan for today?” Sharon wanted to know as soon as she had taken a hit on the coffee.

“After a turn-about party it seems a waste to undo everything we took so much effort to accomplish the day before, so I generally give Caelia a girl’s day, where she decides what to do,” Gerald said.

“You mean you spend the day cross-dressed?”

Caelia gave him a hug.

“Yes he does and I love it. On days like this it’s like having my best girlfriend and husband all in one.”

Much to my dismay, Sharon jumped on the bandwagon.

“I love it!” she said, latching onto my arm and hugging it close. “Please say you’ll do it too,” she pleaded.

‘What the hell, so it’s spend the day all femmed up. Gerald is going to. So after I eat, I’ll put on a little lipstick and we’ll sit around watching all the girlie shows on television.’

“OK, count me in. What the hell, it was kind of fun last night.”

That seemed to make everyone happy. Talk around the table centered on the activities of the night before. It resembled a gossip session at a hen party. They, well we, picked apart the costumes that some those less inclined to make the effort wore.

“If that’s all the effort they’re willing to make, why not just decline the invitation?”

“I would venture a guess that they don’t want to commit social suicide. You notice that the same ones that don’t make an effort at turn-about parties hardly make any more effort for French revolution parties. I mean pinning a tricolor cockade to the lapel of one’s jacket is hardly a costume, now is it?”

They then launched into deriding the men with facial hair and those who wore dresses and nothing else. We were all in stitches laughing at the examples cited. The meal took about an hour to eat and we all pitched in to do the cleanup.

“Right, so let’s all go up and get dressed for the day,” Caelia said. “I’ll sort out another dress for you Blaine”

I guess it’s a woman thing. You can’t wear the same dress two days in a row. My beard grows slowly and Sharon allowed that I didn’t need to shave that morning. Back in our room, Sharon went to work on my face. At least this time she didn’t pluck my eyebrows or spend a great deal of time on prep work. The result of her ministrations was much the same as the night before only a bit more subdued. Especially around my eyes. When she got through, you might almost think I didn’t have any makeup on, except that my face was far more feminine. Mostly it was the blush that changed the way you perceive my cheek bones.

Caelia appeared at our door. She knocked and opened a crack.

“Is everyone decent?” she wanted to know.

“Come on in,” Sharon answered.

She came in carrying what I would call a sundress and half-slip. What I didn’t notice was that under the half-slip was a pair of clean undies. She also had another pair of shoes. These were sandals. The heels were a little taller than the sling backs from the night before. She draped the dress across the bed.

“I thought since you did so well last night that these might work for today,” she said, holding out the sandals. “The straps all adjust so you should be able to make them fit. Since we aren’t going anywhere, no need for hose today.”

Given I was going to be wearing sandals, nothing would do but that I have my toe nails polished to match my finger nails. That was the first order of business. Caelia left us to get dressed. I assumed she would be helping Gerald with his presentation.

When I was dressed, I found the sandals a bit more of a challenge than the sling backs. The heel was more than two inches, I was sure and that put a little strain on my calf muscles. The only saving grace was that they were wedge heels so it gave me a solid base to walk on.

Sharon put on a nice day dress, like she might wear to go to the mall or out to lunch with her friends. When I questioned her about wearing a dress, I mean last night she’d worn men’s clothes, she informed me that it was a “girl’s day” not a turn-about day.

Back in the lounge, we found Gerald in a casual frock. It wasn’t one that Sharon owned, so I had to question just where he got it from. I didn’t want to be rude, so I held the question in my head. He was thumbing through a fashion magazine. He looked up as we came in.

“That dress looks divine on you.”

Caelia joined us from the kitchen carrying a snack tray with cookies and fruit on it. There was already a pot of tea and cups and saucers on the coffee table.

“It does; you look smashing. I don’t think I ever looked so good in it.”

I blushed to think that I might look better in her dress than she did.

Sharon and I settled on the sofa and Caelia sat on their loveseat. And poured tea for everyone. I’m not a big tea drinker, but when in Rome, and all of that. Here in England, folks drink tea in the afternoon, so I didn’t complain. Without asking, she put a dollop of milk in each then looking at me.

“One lump or two?”

Not knowing exactly I opted for two. But Sharon, who had spent four years of school around Caelia and had shared a pot of tea with her many times before, took one lump.

“Help yourself to the biscuits and fruit,” we were told.

I wasn’t sure just how to act, so I took my lead from Gerald. He was sitting with his legs crossed at the knee. As a guy, I’d never been comfortable crossing my legs that way, both socially – it is after all a woman’s thing to cross them that way – and physically; certain things get in the way. He seemed to be suffering no discomfort and Sharon had adamantly insisted that this was a “girl’s day” so I attempted it. To my surprise there was no discomfort at all. My thighs pressed together from knee to pelvis as the knees crossed. Gerald had pulled his foot back to his calf. I wasn’t quite limber enough to actually get my foot to touch the other leg. ‘I wonder if he had to practice that.’

I held my peace and let the ladies lead the conversation. They talked about the latest movies that appealed to women and that led to a suggestion that we watch one. They had a large selection of DVDs. I was amazed to see just how many of them I would classify as “chick flicks.” But then I supposed that Caelia was the one who bought most of them.

We ended up watching “P.S. I Love You.” I’m kind of a sensitive guy, but a guy none the less and I’ve watched chick flicks before and enjoyed some of them. When they suggested we watch one, that’s what I expected. But this wasn’t some schmaltzy love story; boy meets girl, girl hates boy/boy hates girl etcetera, etcetera.

No this involved a married couple deeply in love; they completed each other. The man developed a terminal illness at a young age. He knew almost from the start that he was dying. He also knew that his wife would have a hard time moving on with her life so in the months leading up to his death he arranged for a series of letters to be delivered to her in imaginative ways. Each one ended, “P.S. I love you.” The gist of the whole thing was that he encouraged her to get on with her life and allow herself to fall in love again.

I’ve got to tell you, it was a real tear jerker. I’m not ashamed to say I cried; not just my eyes watering but real tears streaming down my face. I may have been embarrassed but looking around all four of us had raccoon eyes. Facial tissue boxes had appeared on tables as if by magic and more than a few of them were wadded up on the coffee table.

“My God, what a touching movie. That’s what love, real love is all about. He was dying and all he could think of was how to help his wife deal with the grief.”

That one thought seemed to express all of our feelings about the movie. Caelia opened her purse and passed around a pack of Nice 'n Clean makeup remover pads. It took a bit, but eventually we all had cleared the mess under our eyes. It was a good thing that it was daytime makeup and none of us had used a foundation.

“Let’s see what we can do for tea before we change for the evening,” Gerald offered.

“I’ve got that sorted,” Caelia informed him. I have some Thai salmon fish cakes and a salad in the refrigerator. All we have to do is pop them in the microwave for a few minutes and we can eat. If you and Blaine will lay the table, Sharon can heat the fish cakes while I add the dressing to the salad.”

Having our marching orders Gerald and I got out the plates, glasses, bowls and silverware and in short order we were sitting at the table feasting on a fine meal. I don’t know when Caelia had time to prepare all of this. I suppose she could have gotten up earlier than the rest of us and fixed the salad. The fish cakes I noticed came out of a container that one might use for the freezer so who knows when they were cooked. At any rate, it was delicious.

After the meal, we all helped clean up, or tidy up, as Caelia had said.

“Right, we can change for the evening and truly repair our makeup.” Gerald seemed a bit preoccupied with the idea of a girly day. I suppose I could see refreshing our mascara and such but he indicated changing clothes. ‘Oh well, part of the game, I guess.’

In our room, there was yet another of Caelia’s dresses on the bed. This one had cap sleeves and a sweetheart neckline. Along with the dress was a pair of sheer nude hose. That told me that this evening I’d need the garter belt. That required striping naked again, but before I did that Sharon insisted I get a close shave again. I assumed that meant full makeup again… it did. With me all trussed up and dressed, Sharon went to work on my face. The result was possibly more dramatic than the night before.

Downstairs, Gerald and Caelia were waiting in the entry way. Sharon picked up the purse I’d been given the night before and handed it to me. I looked down at it blankly.

“Right, let’s be on our way,” Gerald said, opening the door.

As a group we were headed for their car again. Caelia drove again. I leaned forward and tapped Gerald on the shoulder.

“Where are we going?”

He turned a little toward the back and said, “Ted’s Place.”

“Ted’s place? Who is Ted?”

“Not who, but what. It is a bar in West Kensington. On Thursdays and Sundays it caters to cross-dressers. We sometimes make that our Sunday evening destination after we’ve been to a “turn-about” party. There’s a good group of people who go there. It’s quite popular.”

“Blaine, you didn’t really think that a girl’s day involved just sitting around and watching television. I’ve heard about Ted’s Place. It sounds like a fun place,” Sharon told me.

“You’ve heard about it?”

“Yes, I heard some people talking about it last night and I asked Caelia. Going there will really be an adventure; something to make our stay in London memorable. I can’t wait.”

It was a long drive, which left me with plenty of time to stew about going out in public wearing a dress, looking like a woman. By the time we got there, I was tied up in knots. There was a bit of a problem finding a place to park. The nearest place was a fifteen minute walk.

“I don’t fancy the walk from the car park in these heels,” Gerald, that is Gerri, said as we neared our destination. “I’ve ordered an Uber. Hopefully we’ll beat them there.”

“I should hope so. We’ll need an Uber back when closing time comes. Between the drink and time of day, I’m not walking back,” Caelia agreed.

We parked up and headed back to the street just as Gerri’s phone indicated that Uber was there. The four of us squeezed in with Caelia riding shotgun and the rest in the back seat. The driver, a young college age guy, surveyed us in the mirror. I hoped he couldn’t tell which, if any of us was cross-dressed. Given it was common knowledge that Ted’s Place catered to cross-dressers on Sunday night. I’m sure he knew that we couldn’t all be women.

Ted’s Place was crowded and luckily, I guess, we chanced upon someone Gerri knew who was willing to share a table. I took a seat and looked around. The clientele was eclectic, some were done up like prostitutes, some like starlets. Some I really couldn’t tell if they were cross-dressers or born women. I hoped that Gerri and I were in that category. Most however had tells that made it easy to read them; some very obvious, others required a bit of observation to be sure.

Gerri introduced us to his, or I suppose given where we were, her friends. Again, don’t ask me for their names. I forgot them almost as soon as I heard them. It was a small group of four cross-dressers. All of them respectably dressed much the same as we were. They seemed to be a friendly group. One of them was drinking a little heavier than the rest. Every now and then someone would come over and bring them a drink and congratulate her or wish her a happy rebirthday. One of them that I happened to end up sitting next to was one who could easily pass as a woman, though her hands did seem a little large.

I leaned over and asked, “What’s the occasion? I’ve never heard of a ‘rebirthday’ before.”

“This is the three year anniversary of her coming out and the two year anniversary of her RLT and HRT.”

“I don’t understand.”

“She came out as trans three years ago today. Two years ago she began her real life test and hormone replacement therapy.”

‘A transsexual. No wonder she looks so good.’ I had heard of them before, but in my circles I had never met one, or at least never knew if I did.

“Oh, I’ve never met a transsexual before.”

“Really, luv, you should know transsexual is out dated. These days, we’re all transgender. Just some of us really need to transition. For Janet there, it was transition or die. She couldn’t take living the lie.”

I nodded just like I understood and studied Janet for a moment.

“It looks like she’s doing well. I mean if I met her on the street, I’d never know she wasn’t born a woman.”

My new friend smiled.

“Yes, she’s one of the lucky ones. Too bad her wife wasn’t able to cope. When she came out things between them got really strained and when she announced that she was going to transition her wife filed for divorce straight away. Fortunately, she was able to keep her job. She’s an architect and does brilliant work.

“It must be difficult to make such a drastic change.”

“Yes, it’s not something I could or even really want to do. My wife knows I fancy wearing women’s clothes but she has adopted a ‘do it if you must, just don’t let me see it,’ attitude. And I’m happy dressing at the weekend. My wife is a shop assistant and works weekends, so when she leaves for work on Saturday, I slip into something more comfortable and change back before she gets home. When I go shopping I’m careful to not go to her shop. Though I’ve been naughty a time or two and walked right by it.”

“You go and buy your clothes while dressed?”

“Oh yes, it's much better to try things on before you buy.”

That threw me. The very idea of going out in broad daylight in a dress was one thing, but actually going out of the way to interact with people and try on clothes… that seemed a step too far. The women’s fitting rooms are the epitome of women only territory. But I could see how my new friend could get away with it.

“Where do you get your clothes,” she wanted to know.

“Oh, this is borrowed.”

“Your wife?”

“No, Gera… Gerri’s wife, Caelia,” I gestured toward her.

“So, Sharon, is she your wife?”

“Ah… yes.”

“Aren’t you lucky to have an understanding wife?”

I opened my mouth to explain just how I came to be cross-dressed, but shut it right away. The whole thing seemed a bit farfetched even to me and I was living it.

“Yes, I guess I am, and Gerri too.”

At that point, I decided that Gerald was and had been for some time, a cross-dresser or transgender as I’d been informed was the favored term.

My new friend got pulled into another conversation and I talked with the person across the table for a while. The evening ensued, I discovered that the restrooms were gender neutral, drinks flowed and we shut the place down at two in the morning. I was ever so glad that Uber would be taking us to get the car. Walking to the door was a challenge and fifteen minutes walking down the street would have been a disaster in a myriad of ways. I fell asleep on the long drive back. Sharon saw to it that my makeup got cleaned off and that I got into bed wearing the nightgown.

In the morning, Caelia came knocking at the door.

“Hurry and get up you two. We have to get Blaine sorted before we go to Heathrow,” she called, opening the door just a crack.

‘Heathrow! The airport!’

“What time is it?”

“Half ten.”

“Christ on a crutch. Our flight takes off at three-thirty. And we need to be there by twelve-thirty”

“Put your trousers on and strip to the waist. I will be right back with the solvent for the forms.”

I did as she suggested and was sitting on the bed when she came back. I gave a test tug at the forms and they weren’t going anywhere. Caelia came in and started painting the top edge with the solvent. It took some time to start working, but soon the top edge of the left boob was loose. She then poured a little in the gap and started on the right. Gerald showed up, still in his nightgown.

“I’ve brought some coffee and biscuits. You’ll have to get a proper breakfast on the other side of security.”

I took the coffee in my right hand and sipped. He’d been paying attention when I fixed my coffee; the sugar was right. I held the gap at the top of the left boob a way while Caelia poured just a little more solvent in. I continued pressure on the left while she worked on the right. I could feel the boob pulling away. By the time it gave way entirely, Caelia had a good start on the right. I munched a couple of cookies while she finished up.

While all this was going on Sharon was packing madly. She had pre-packed a little yesterday morning, but I hadn’t. So most of her efforts were toward getting my bag packed.

“Get dressed and I’ll take over for Sharon so she can as well,” Caelia ordered.

I pulled on a tee shirt and a button down shirt. I shook my head at my painted toes as I pulled on my socks. ‘Guess they’ll just have to stay that way until I get home. Hope we don’t have any trouble getting the finger nails off.’ It was then that I realized I’d gone to bed still wearing panties and the control brief. ‘Nothing I can do about it now. It’s a wonder that my slacks fit over my butt.’ I gulped down the last of my coffee and another cookie. Sharon came back from the bathroom wearing slacks and a blouse. She’d taken time to brush her hair and put on lipstick, but nothing more. She still had her brush in hand. She pushed me to sit down on the bed and quickly unpinned the wig cap and tried her best to get all the bobby pins out of my hair before she ran her brush through it. She missed two bobby pins and that smarted like heck.

“Your bags are packed. We’d better get going. I think we have just enough time to make your flight providing we don’t run into traffic problems,” Gerald said as he picked up two of Sharon’s bags.

Like any woman, she had packed twice the clothes she really needed. Fortunately I could manage with only one bag. They allowed us two bags each with our tickets so I checked her third bag on my ticket. That had caused some raised eyebrows when we went through customs in London and I expected it would again when we got back home. It was obvious that either Sharon or Caelia hadn’t taken the time to arrange things in my bag properly. The poor thing was straining at the zipper. I was sure it was just because it looked bigger that it seemed to be heavier.

The smell of acetone was strong in the back seat. I held a shallow bowl in one hand while I immersed the fingertips of the other in acetone. After half an hour, we were able to pry the nails loose on that hand. It was rinse and repeat for the other hand. It’s a good thing it was summer because we had to put the windows down because of the smell.

We arrived at Heathrow and made it to check in with five minutes to spare. As we headed toward security, I took stock of what Gerald was wearing. It was a little warm for it, but he’d pulled a cardigan sweater on over his shirt. It was obvious he hadn’t taken time to remove his own boobs. But, if you didn’t know him you would just think he had a flabby chest or something.

The women hugged and exchanged tearful goodbyes, while Gerald and I shook hands. He was the picture of a stiff upper lip Brit. But he did crack a smile when spoke.

“I would imagine you won’t be forgetting this weekend.”

“No, I don’t think so. If you had told me from the beginning what was going to happen, I would have nixed it right then. But after the fact, I did have fun. So I guess I should say thank you for pushing my boundaries.”

“Think nothing of it, old man.”

We went through the screening process and waved to them from the other side. After that it was find something to eat before we boarded the plane. Three hours is a long time to kill just sitting around the departure area. I nodded off a couple of times and was never so glad as I was when they announced our boarding time. We would be chasing the sun on the way home, so sundown would come a little later. Not that it made any difference as we wouldn’t reach home until late in the afternoon on Tuesday. Frankly, I have no idea when the sun finally out distanced us and darkness outside engulfed us as I was reclined and asleep long before that.

As we went through customs I was asked, “Do you have anything to declare?” I suddenly was at a loss. I knew I didn’t buy anything that I was bringing back, but I wasn’t sure about Sharon.

“I’m not sure. You see, one of these bags is my wife’s and I’m not sure if she bought anything or not. She’s right over there, can I go ask her?”

The customs agent looked to her left, the direction I was pointing.

“Which one.”

“The blonde in the white blouse and blue slacks.”

She stepped away from the counter and went to where my wife was having her bags checked. A moment later she walked to a copy machine, made a copy and finally came back.

“Really sir if you’re going to check your wife’s bags on your ticket, you should have a copy of this list with you.”

She scanned the list for a few moments and then poked around in the bags. She found something in my bag that I didn’t know was there. Two white boxes. She took them to one of those belts like you put your carry on through and ran them through. She brought them back and put them back in my case. She found a small package in the lid pocket of Sharon’s bag. Opened it, made a note. She then poked around, looking at several items of clothing. She looked at the list again and referenced something on her computer.

“It appears that what’s in your bags doesn’t exceed the personal exemption. However, if all the things in this bag were on your wife’s ticket she would be over the exemption by over a hundred dollars. So it’s a good thing that you checked one on your allowance. Thanks, it’s been an interesting check in. You can close your bags now.” She had a funny grin going on as she said it. I noticed the paper she had retrieved laying on top as I closed the bags. My wife was waiting for me at the exit. We found our way to the parking lot and retrieved our car. I didn’t have a chance to look at the paper, but I sure would at home.

I put our bags on the bed and opened mine. While Sharon began unpacking, I looked at the copy of the form that the customs agent had made. She had ticked off the items she found in my suitcase.

• 3 dresses used      value £30
• 2 breast forms used   value £100
• 3 knickers used    value £6
• 1 control brief used    value £5
• 1 necklace new     value £125
• 3 dresses used     value £30

I rummaged through the clothes. The two boxes with the breast forms were easy to find and the three dresses were not hard either as were the women’s underwear, since everything else was either pants, shirts or jockey shorts. I put them all on the bed.

“Sharon, how did this stuff end up in my suitcase?”

“Oh, Caelia put them there when she took over packing for me.”

“You knew they were there. You must have. How else would they have been listed on the form?” I shook the form at her.

“Well yes, she gave me the costs of the thing and told me that she thought you had such a good time wearing them that she wanted to make them a gift to you. She seemed sure that if she didn’t you’d be looking to buy your own.”

“You could have asked me if I wanted them. We could have taken them out. Do you have any idea how embarrassed I was when the customs agent found them?”

“She didn’t tell me until we were at the airport and you and Gerald were checking the bags in. Then you came back and handed me that form to fill out. As you remember, I didn’t fill it out until we were waiting to board. What could I do then?

“Besides, Caelia was right. You did have a good time wearing them… we had a good time going out together. I’m glad she did it, because I’m sure that you’ll wear them again.”

“I… wha…” I stammered. “How can you be so sure?”

“Are you sure you won’t?”

I started to deny that I would but I looked at dresses and my mind filled with the memory of how they felt and more importantly how I felt when I was wearing them. Oh I was nervous when we went out of their house, but discount that; there was something about wearing them that spoke to something inside of me. I looked down, metaphorically climbing down off my high horse.

“I…, no, I can’t be sure.”

Sharon wrapped me in a hug. “I’m glad. I feel like Caelia. I like having my best friend and husband all in one.”

I began putting my clothes away and Sharon went back to doing the same.

“Do you think that Gerald cross-dresses more than just for turn-about parties?”

“Caelia didn’t say, but I’m sure of it. Why else would he have three wigs, human hair wigs, and multiple breast forms?”

“That’s what I’m thinking. He had clothes to wear that you don’t own and he knew too many people at Ted’s Place,” I said and kept on unpacking.

“So what do we do now? It’s not like we’re likely to be invited to a turn-about party here.”

“No, but I got a text from Caelia. She’s done some online research. She said that you probably wouldn’t be ready right now, but after you’ve been wearing them around the house for a while, you might feel the need. She gave me the contact information for Trans-Fem, a group that meets at the Q Center in North Portland.”

“Well she’s right. Not right now. I’m not even sure how often, or just when I’ll be wearing these things,” I said as I hung the dresses in my closet.

Sharon came and hugged me again.

“Whenever you’re ready and whenever you want, as often as you want, I’m good with it.”