Joey & Joy

Chapter 1

by Marlisa

 
‘You look ridiculous’ was the first thought that went through my head as I studied my reflection in the door length mirror. The clothing was nice enough, a pale blue blouse with a small, yellow daisy positioned at the décolletage; a simple black skirt that stopped just below the knees; nude stockings and low-heeled black slingbacks.

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Unfortunately all the curves were in the wrong places and we won’t even go into anything over the neck. It’s not like in those stories you read on the net where the hero (ine) looks fabulous with just a touch of powder and a hint of lace. No, this is real life and I look as ridiculous as I feel.

Sighing, I take the clip-on, drop earrings off and set them back in the jewelry case, a simple black and yellow patterned box that I put together back in middle school. Who knew it would last this long?

I look in the mirror one last time, wishing that I could be as feminine and believable as others, but my too tall frame and angular face make that impossible even if you disregarded the beer belly I’ve got.

“Joey, we’re home,” came the perky voice of my wife, Abby.

Oh shit, I thought, as I made a bee-line for the attached bathroom, grabbing my jean shorts and t-shirt as I go.

“I’m in the bathroom, sweetie, just got out of the shower” I replied, a small tremor causing the last word to break. “You need any help bringing things in?”

“No, we’ve got it. I ran into Joy while I was out shopping and I know how close you two were in school, I thought it would be nice for the three of us to get together and maybe grill some chicken or hamburgers, if you don’t mind?”

I chuckled, with more than a bit of gallows humor, at the thought of being caught by my wife with the woman who actually got me started cross-dressing in the first place, my old study buddy, Joy. I finished getting out of my feminine finery and threw them in the hamper, to be retrieved later.

“Just let me finish getting dressed,” I replied. “We can chat for a bit then I’ll fire up the grill ok?”

I scrubbed my face, relentlessly, ensuring that any trace of blush or lipstick was completely gone. Satisfied, I threw my ragged Chiefs t-shirt on, wiped my still damp hands on my jean shorts and walked out to meet my wife and my oldest friend.

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To Be Continued...