Chapter Fifteen — The First Week Of My Holiday

Sunday

I awoke in the guestroom, dressed in the exquisite new lilac chiffon empire-waist peignoir, robe, bikini panties and dance panties that my mother had gifted me. The room was a mess. I was a hung over — I had a little too much champagne the evening before. I couldn‘t even remember if I had creamed the previous evening, but the way I felt told me I hadn‘t.

The first thing I did was to reread the letter from mother, especially the part about Mimi wanting to ’help‘ me:

"You need to know that Mimi is aware of all this. She adores you and understands your feelings. She is very supportive and said that she‘d love to help you become comfortable dressing as a lady. If you want her to help and assist you all you have to do is ask her, or, if you‘re uncomfortable with that, dear, just dress in something soft and feminine as a sign you want her to help you. I do hope you‘ll let her help you."

Mimi was to arrive in a couple of hours and I had a number of things to do, such as tidying up the guestroom and deciding how I should dress for her. I threw on my terry cloth bathrobe and had a quick breakfast, thinking about how I wanted the day to unfold.

My relationship with Mimi was, of course, much different than my relationship with mother. Mimi was both a kind of nanny and a surrogate aunt. My mother, like me, avoided confrontation, but Mimi was more direct. By softly dressing as mother‘s letter suggested, I knew that Mimi would confront me about my crossdressing. I was in a complete tizzy trying to decide if I wanted to go through with what my mother had suggested. Mimi wanted to help, but how? What would be her reaction? Maybe she told mother one thing, but was going to do another?

All these questions raced through my mind as I finished breakfast and headed back to the guestroom.

I took a shower and applied after bath body lotion and powdered with scented talc. I then slipped into the wrap that matched my bathrobe.

My next task was to tidy the room. I had a lovely time putting away all the dresses, foundations, lingerie, and night dressings that were scattered about. It put me in a really ’creamy and dreamy‘ mood, where my daintie was in a sort of stimulated limbo state, small amounts of cream keeping me all moist, an exquisite mesmerizing ache, and my eyes dilated for that dreamy time-to-go-to-bed look. I began to resent the fact that Mimi was coming over — I was in the mood for a long luscious purging.

My mood made it easy for me to decide and dress "…in something soft and feminine as a sign…" as mother had written. I just couldn‘t imagine any other outcome.

I was in a trance-like state, going through the motions as I donned the new silk charmeuse foundations that Auntie had sent, the ones that matched my pajamas and robe, along with the damask lace-trimmed handkerchief as a pantie napkin, the lovely matching chemise and tap pantie, and the pair of white silk stockings that Auntie had also sent.

I decided to wear the ensemble that mother had lain out on the wingback chair. It seemed to be beckoning to me — something "soft and feminine" to wear for Mimi. Could it have been that mother gave me the ensemble expressly for this occasion? And so I dressed in the off-white mohair, angora, and merino wool blend turtleneck sweater, so very girlish and feminine with its delicate strands of angora and mohair decorating the fur and its voluminous rolled-over turtleneck. The charcoal gray wool jersey pinstripe slacks were next; they fit perfectly, the high waist and full cut legs so very alluring. I slipped into suede charcoal gray kitten-heel pumps, and evaluated my ensemble in the mirror. The sweater hid the high waist of the slacks, and the hem of the slacks covered the kitten heeled pumps while standing. But I could distinguish the camisole beneath the turtleneck, but just barely. So I donned the delicate dove gray surplice wrap alpaca sweater — it was just so very soft and pretty and it left absolutely no doubt that I was crossdressed. But it did hide the camisole beneath.

I sat at my vanity and selected the small gold hoop earrings that mother had bought me and pulled my hair back in a loose ponytail with the tortoise shell hair clip. I applied just a bit of foundation cream, smoothing it in with the triangular sponges, just as the ’Secrets of Makeup‘ book had prescribed. I followed with a very modest application of eyeshadow, blush, and lip gloss; a bit more than what I was wearing the previous morning when mother dressed me in the blue silk surah. My eyelashes had already been accentuated from the mascara I had applied the evening before.

I stood at the cheval mirror again and evaluated myself. What a girlish, softly sweater‘d sissy I was! "Eww…" I moaned. "Mimi? Is there something you want to discuss with me?" I said to the mirror in anticipation of whatever was to pass that afternoon. I continued with my little lisping soliloquy, saying "Mommy says you want me to wear dresses and stockings and high-heels and pretty underthings… She says that you want to help me dress as a lady…"

With serendipitous timing, she telephoned as I was reveling in my shameful soliloquy.

"Good morning, Dahl" she began.

"Good morning, Mimi. How are you?" I replied sweetly.

"I‘m fine dear. I‘m back. I‘ll be over there in about an hour."

"Wonderful, Mimi" I replied without hesitation.

"Then I‘ll see you in a bit. Perhaps you could make some of your special tea and set the table for lunch. I‘ll bring us a nice lunch and then there‘s something I want to discuss with you."

My heart skipped a few beats as I let out a silent moan, watching my reflection in the mirror.

"Yes, Mimi" I replied with just a bit of soft lisp.

We said our goodbyes and I hung up the phone.

After checking myself for the hundredth time, I went downstairs, started a pot of my special tea and then set the table in our formal dining with our best china, silverware, crystal water glasses, and tea cups.

I nervously waited for Mimi, checking and re-checking myself in the mirror, finally noticing my fingernails were still painted pink. I was just about to go upstairs and remove the polish when Mimi arrived. She was nicely dressed, this time in a floral pattern skirt against a deep blue background and a claret red cashmere twinset with a necklace of big carved ivory-colored beads.

I was standing with my back to the dining table, leaning against it, my hands behind me to hide my pink polished nails, one leg slightly bent. With a quavering voice I greeted her.

"Hello Mimi, how are you?"

"Hello Dahl. I‘m fine, thank you. My…" she said, looking me up and down "…but you look very nice; such soft and pretty sweaters." She glanced into the formal dining room and said "You did a very nice job setting the table, dear. Come, let‘s put out the lunch I brought — I‘m hungry." She had picked up lunch from our favorite Japanese restaurant.

Without much ado, we served ourselves. Mimi got out my vitamins and had me take them before sitting down. "After lunch, Dahl, there‘s something you and I need to discuss, isn‘t there? But for now, let‘s just enjoy our lunch."

She managed to find something to talk about during lunch. At one point, I gave a little yawn. "You look tired, dear" she said. "Did you sleep well last night?"

"No, not really" I replied. "I guess I‘m a little tired. I‘ll probably take a nap later today."

"I think you should. As your mother said, you need your rest."

Lunch was finished. I excused myself to the bathroom and watched myself in the mirror as I drew down my slacks and panties. ’This is it‘ I thought to myself.

When I came out a few minutes later, Mimi was in our parlor, sitting on the couch. She patted the seat next to her, saying "Come sit with me, Dahl dear."

I sat down, knees together, my head bowed, my hands folded in my lap, almost quivering. My slacks revealed the kitten heels and white silk stockings. Mimi gently placed two fingers underneath my chin and raised my bowed head. She took my hand gently in hers.

"Dahl dear?" she started, looking me in the eyes. "I know you like wearing ladies things, and that you like to dress up as a lady, just like you are now. You are wearing ladies things, aren‘t you?"

"Yes, Mimi" I replied, my eyes tearing up. There was a box of tissue on the coffee table. Mimi withdrew a tissue and handed it to me. Wordlessly, I dabbed my eyes. A bit of mascara came off on the tissue.

"You‘re wearing ladies underthings, too, aren‘t you?"

"Uh-huh."

"And you‘ve polished your nails, I see."

I sniffed.

"Your mother and I have discussed this. She has known for some time, as have I. I‘m glad it‘s finally out in the open. She dressed you in a pretty dress a few days ago, didn‘t she?"

I bowed my head and blushed. My ears were ringing. Again she put her fingers beneath my chin and raised my head.

"She said you looked beautiful. I‘m sure you did. You look very pretty right now. And you enjoyed it, too, am I right? …having your mommy dress you? You really liked being dressed as a fine young lady, don‘t you?"

"Yes, Mimi" I breathed.

"You should not be ashamed, Dahl. I think that it‘s wonderful you discovered yourself." She was searching my eyes as she said this. She held my hand in both of hers and continued, pausing occasionally to let her words sink in.

"As I told your mother, I am happy to help you become comfortable dressing up as a young lady, to get beyond your furtive little dressing-up episodes — you‘ve had a few of those, haven‘t you?" She didn‘t wait for a reply, but continued with "Your mother hoped that while she was away, you would overcome your inhibitions about dressing as a girl around us. When she gets back, she wants you to be as much at ease dressing up around her as possible because… because she would like to start taking you out as her daughter."

She paused for a long moment, then lifted my chin again and looked me in the eyes.

"So, my dear child, I just need to make sure. Please tell me — do you want me to help you?"

"Yes Mimi, I do" I blurted out, dabbing my tears again.

"Good!" she said, smiling broadly. "I was hoping you would say yes — not that it would have mattered much." She gave me a hug and stroked my head gently, saying "It will be all right, Dahl, you‘ll see. I‘m really looking forward to helping you — it will be fun; doing something I‘ve wanted to do for some time. It makes me feel young, like when I used to babysit you… Don‘t cry; dry your tears, mon chéri…" She hadn‘t called me ’mon chéri‘ in years.

She continued to stroke my head. I gathered myself together and sniffed back the tears.

"So… Dahl?" She continued once I had gathered myself. "I have decided that you should dress as a lady whenever you are home. This, of course, is the first step for you to become more at ease. And I‘ll be here to make sure you are dressed. And I have thoughts about other ways to help you as well, but let‘s just leave those ideas until later, all right? But I want you to first agree and promise that you‘ll dress up as a young lady whenever you are home."

"Okay… I mean… I mean unless somebody else is here, someone that knows me…" I trailed off.

"Of course dear; but you‘re not planning on inviting any of your friends over, are you?"

"No, Mimi" I replied.

"Neither am I. So it‘s agreed, then?"

"Yes, I agree, Mimi. Yes… thank you" I replied with relief, joy, and newfound confidence, adding "I promise to dress up as a young lady whenever I‘m home."

I bowed my head as my words sunk in. I realized just how lucky I was and how very kind Mimi was. With a shaking voice, I thanked her, saying "Oh Mimi that sounds wonderful. Thank you so much, Mimi. Thank you for helping me."

"Of course, my dear child… You‘re welcome. And you‘ll be staying in the guestroom, won‘t you? It is very lovely and feminine, isn‘t it?"

"Yes it is, Mimi."

"Your mother decorated it just for you, you know."

"No… well, I wasn‘t sure" I replied.

"Now… what does your room look like? Did you put away all the things your mother laid out? And how about the package from your aunt?"

"I put them away, Mimi."

"Good for you, Dahl. Now, I would like to go tidy up the guestroom. I want to make sure that everything is in its proper place since you‘ll be staying there and I‘ll be taking care of it. You can put the dishes away and then I want you to go and unpack my car and bring my things into my room. While you‘re doing that, I‘m going to select something for you to wear for the rest of the afternoon. I need to leave for a while so I can drop by my office and go the grocery store. It will take me a few hours. While I‘m gone, I think you should take a nap and then dress yourself properly for dinner, alright?"

"Yes Mimi, thank you."

She rose from the couch and went upstairs. I sat for long moments, a thousand thoughts and questions racing through my mind. But mostly I felt relief — it was all finally out in the open. I rose from the couch and stood in front of the large mirror hanging over it, and just looked at myself for a while, thinking about what Mimi had just said.

I put the dishes away then went to Mimi‘s car. In the trunk were two large suitcases, a couple of cloth bags with toiletries and shoes. In the back seat was clothing on hangers. She had brought two nice dressing gowns; one a green tartan in very fine combed wool, the other her deep blue checked jersey. Next were three ballet dress nightgowns; the elegant and flattering black one I had seen her in before and two others, identical except for their color: claret red and creamy off-white. Although Mimi wore them as nightgowns, they could just as easily be worn as day dresses. Then came various outwear: a pleated royal blue skirt, a pleated heather gray skirt, her black wool suit, a long black rayon skirt with attached self-tie waist sash, two identical rayon blouses with slightly puffed shoulders, lace band collars, and lace accents on the sleeves; one in white, the other in pink. Both blouses had long and wide detachable neck scarves with big bows.

To my surprise, she had brought cocktail and eveningwear as well; a flattering cerulean blue surplice wrap jersey cocktail dress. a deep blue chiffon column gown with a wrapped and knotted runched bodice and cap sleeves; her silver blue chiffon palazzo slacks matched with a beautiful beaded blue bustier and a sweeping silver blue chiffon jacket embroidered with blue thread; a drop-waist pink silk Peau de Soie gown with a draped neckline; and a black lace cocktail dress with a red belt. Finally, there was a fetching black lace empire waist negligee. Was this something Mimi was planning on wearing in my presence?

She appeared downstairs as I was finishing putting her things away. I told her that she had beautiful things, and commented on the eveningwear.

"Those were gowns I wore when I did some modeling for that bridal magazine spread, remember?" I remembered— mother had gotten Mimi some modeling work, doing a high-quality magazine spread wearing mother-of-the-bride gowns. These were the gowns she wore.

"I decided that if you‘re going to dress up in pretty things, you‘d like some company. Besides, I‘ve hardly worn these since the shoot, and thought I could join in the fun, too. I‘ve got a few more at home. Perhaps I‘ll bring them later."

"Now, about your room, dear" she said, sitting down on the couch. "Your bed is made and turned down. And I put out a dressing for you to wear this afternoon and evening. I rearranged a few things as well. Now you should go upstairs and take a little nap while I go to the office and store."

"Yes Mimi. And… and thank you Mimi… thank you for everything" I said in a quavering voice.

"Come sit and give me a hug, dear" she said, smiling, patting the couch next to her. She opened her arms as I sat and I was soon enveloped in her breasts. She kissed me on both cheeks, and, letting the hug end, said "I can‘t wait to see you as a young lady, mon chéri. Just so there‘s no question…" she whispered, a reassuring smile on her face "…I want you to pad your bra, alright?"

"Oh… okay, Mimi" I replied, blushing.

Mincing on my kitten heels, I went upstairs to see what Mimi had chose for me to wear for the afternoon.

I could barely breathe as I opened the door to my boudoir. The bed was invitingly turned down, and draped across it were the De Pledge negligee, short robe, and tap pantie.

I sighed with delight as I stepped inside, taking stock of the room, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror, so very softly sweater‘d, so very girlish. Hanging from the dressing screen were the charcoal gray knee-length fit-and-flare pleated skirt and the coordinated cashmere and mohair V-neck argyle sweater. On the floor were the black velvet pumps.

I glanced behind the dressing screen. The shimmering silver gray jacquard camisole, pettislip, and matching tap pantie hung from the back of the screen, each on their individual padded satin hangers. The ottoman was decorated with delicacies: the pewter gray embroidered satin brassiere, waspie and tulip panties, and the pair of opaque black stockings; all neatly placed as if for a display in a boutique window. I felt a little faint when I saw, next to the brassiere, the two sachets I used for padding brassieres. She must have known that mother had me pad my brassiere with them.

I stood in rapture, thinking about Mimi‘s choice of my afternoon dressing. I decided that it was perfect — casual and stylish, not too feminine (except, of course, I was a boy about to dress in them).

I inspected the rest of the room, first opening the closet to discover that everything had been carefully placed, loungewear on the right, daywear sets in the middle, dresses on the left. In the bureau, Mimi had gone through the drawers and rearranged things, including all my foundations.

After checking that Mimi had left, I started to undress, titching the whole time. I was down to my foundations and oh-so-aroused, about ready to dress in the lovely blue silk surah and white lace tap panties, negligee, and robe that Mimi had laid out. But I had a little problem — I had laundered all my daintie gloves and they were still wet (I had hung them to dry in a place where it was highly doubtful that Mimi would find). I couldn‘t possible sully the beautiful silk surah panties or negligee, but I so wanted, so desperately needed to cream while wearing them. However, I had an alternative; mother‘s scarf drawer was divided into two sections: one section for her favorite scarves and another smaller section for ones she hardly wore. It was in this latter section that I retrieved a pretty beige scarf made of a polyester chiffon material. I had seen her machine wash it once after she spilled some wine on it. If it could take machine washing, then perhaps… Minutes later I was standing by my bed, dressed in the exquisite silk surah negligee, robe, and tap pantie. Beneath my panties, I had wrapped my mother‘s beige chiffon scarf around my daintie. I carefully slid into bed, taking the bed covering that Mimi had turned down and slowly drawing it over me so that the weight of its folding rested against my throbbing daintie. With the thumb and forefinger of each hand, I reached behind my head and gently clasped the corners of the pillow my head was resting upon. I began to churn ever-so-slightly beneath the weight of the bed covering, moaning my O‘s. A flood of emotions swept over me as I whispered "Oh Evelyn…" My toes tingled and curled as I glanced at my dinner ensemble that Mimi had hung on the dressing screen and I let out a cry as the waves and waves of pleasure inundated me and sullied my mother‘s scarf.

I managed to sleep for about an hour or so, then woke and slowly and carefully dressed, battling both the butterflies in my stomach and the deliciousness of the dainties I was donning. I had washed the sullied scarf of my mother‘s and hung it in the bathroom, and it was dry by the time I finished dressing; it looked fine and I put it my bureau drawer.

I waited downstairs for Mimi, building a fire in the fireplace, and setting the table.

The moment finally arrived; Mimi‘s car pulled up. I was sitting at the piano when she came in. She had changed her clothes and was now dressed in a blue skirt, a burgundy satin top with a pretty scarf, and blue pumps. I stood, tried to smile, and with a nervous laugh, turned around and asked "How do I look?"

"My goodness, Dahl, you‘re even prettier than I thought you‘d be. Your mommy was right — you are a very very pretty girl. That skirt and sweater look splendid on you. How do you feel?"

"Wonderful, Mimi, I feel… I can‘t describe it… I feel…" I searched for just the right thing to say and came up with "really peaceful and content."

"Good for you. That‘s how you should always feel, Dahl dear. If dressing as a girl makes you feel that way, then that‘s what you should do."

Her tone put me at ease. No recriminations, no judgments (other than I was pretty).

I helped her with the groceries and pretended to do some homework.

About a half-hour or so before dinner she suggested that I go to my mother‘s room and ’accessorize‘. "Perhaps a scarf tucked beneath your sweater, or another hair clip or bow, maybe some jewelry, too."

Alone in mother‘s room, I was able to reflect on the day‘s events as I experimented with some of mother‘s artisan jewelry and scarves, finally deciding on an off-white chiffon scarf tucked into the V of my sweater, appearing as if I had a delicate blouse beneath, a pretty artisan glass pendant necklace, and several bracelets.

Mimi let me have wine with dinner, but only after I had taken my vitamins. It helped loosen my tongue a little, and the conversation quickly turned to my crossdressing.

She told me the story of the blue and black gown, how much mother had enjoyed picking it out for me. She said that mother talked to her about it, and how they both agreed that she should lay it out for me to find.

"Does my stepfather know?" I asked at one point.

"That pig? Hell no. All he cares about is making deals and gobs of money. He doesn‘t care about you or your mother. Just promise me one thing, dear. If he ever leaves your mother, you and mother go after his money." It wasn‘t the first time I heard her curse or talk disparagingly about my father.

"Do you think my Auntie knows?"

"I don‘t know, but given all the lovely things she‘s been sending, I suspect yes. Your mother seems to think they‘re being sent for her and she just wants you to have them, but I‘m not so sure. It‘s interesting to me that both your mother and your Auntie think you should be dressing as a lady."

"I… I feel so ashamed sometimes."

"Don‘t ever feel ashamed for who and what you are. There‘s nothing wrong with wanting to wear nice things and be pretty. Why shouldn‘t you be able to dress nice and pretty? I mean, girls these days dress like boys. That‘s certainly not the way I was taught. Like your mother, we were taught as girls to dress nicely. But most of all, Dahl, you said it yourself — you feel peaceful and content when you‘re dressed as a girl. That‘s what life should be — peaceful and content."

"Mimi, I do have one favor to ask you."

"Of course, dear; what is it?"

"When I‘m, uh, dressed up, could you call me by my first name? Hardly anyone knows what it is, and I think it might be, you know…"

"Of course… Good idea Evelyn." She pronounced it as ’Evh-ah-lawn‘ in a gentle French accent.

She then asked some strange questions about the bathrooms at my school — did they provide privacy? I told her that the school library had a couple of private bathrooms and that I sometimes used them on my way between my two classes.

"Are they secure? I mean, do their doors lock?" she asked.

"Um, yea, they do" I replied quizzically.

"And there are private bathrooms at the library, right?"

"Yes…" I began to have a glimmer of why she was asking.

"And one last thing, Da… Evelyn; you don‘t see many people when you work at the library, do you? I mean, except for Melanie."

"Oh, maybe once or twice a day someone will come upstairs. And Melanie doesn‘t come upstairs unless there‘s a reason. Why are you asking me these things, Mimi?"

"Well, from now on, Evelyn, I think you should wear ladies underthings all the time. It will help you become more at ease. But I want it to be safe for you to do so — the only real issue is when you have to use the toilet, isn‘t it? You have private toilets at school and work, so it should be safe for you to do so."

There was silence for a few moments as I let her proposal sink in and think it through. Mimi was first to break the silence.

"Evelyn, can you think of a reason why you shouldn‘t wear ladies underthings all the time? And, of course, as we‘ve already discussed, when you are at home, I want you to always wear a dress. I have some other thoughts about helping you feel comfortable being a lady, but we can discuss those later."

I honestly couldn‘t think of a reason. I mumbled something about Wednesdays when I stayed after school for orchestra practice, and that just being at school longer meant more risk. She said she understood and that we make ’adjustments‘.

"So… It‘s agreed then, isn‘t it, Evelyn? You will wear ladies underthings from now on, correct?"

"Yes, Mimi" I replied sheepishly.

After dinner, I cleared the dishes. Mimi excused herself, saying "Let me attend to your room, Evelyn, and lay out your night dressing."

I was sitting on the couch watching television when she returned downstairs. She had me turn off the television and said "I noticed that your mother bought you some nice overnight moisturizing lotions. You should apply some each night just before you go to bed, Evelyn — it will keep your skin nice and soft."

"Uh, okay Mimi. That‘s good advice" I replied.

"A lady‘s nighttime routine is very important, Evelyn. I suggest that after you apply lotion to your legs you put on the pair of cotton stockings I saw your drawer; they will keep the lotion from rubbing off. And cotton is a natural fiber so it won‘t harm your skin overnight. It used to be that young ladies also wore long gloves to bed after applying lotion to their hands and arms. Did you know that?"

"No, Mimi, I didn‘t" I replied incredulously.

"Perhaps we can find you some. You also want to be sure to use the facial creams your mother bought to remove your makeup — soap is just too harsh and will dry out your skin."

"Yes… I kind of knew that, I guess."

"And you should always brush out your hair, as well. My mother used to tell me at least one hundred strokes of the brush."

"Really? That sounds like a lot!"

"It‘s not, really" she replied "but it really helps to bring out your natural oils." After a moment, she said "You should go upstairs now and begin your nighttime routine. I laid out that pretty new chiffon set your mother bought you, and the white cotton stockings that you could wear overnight. They should stay up overnight without garters… we‘ll see. But don‘t dress in them until I come up — just wear your bathrobe, alright? I‘ll come up and check on you in about forty-five minutes — that‘s about how long you should spend on your routine."

The bed was not turned down. But laid across it was the lilac chiffon and Alencon lace peignoir and robe set along with the matching dance pantie. The bikini panties were missing and I just assumed they were in the bureau drawer. The pair of white cotton white stockings that Mimi had mentioned was also laid out.

I undressed and put my underthings on the wingback chair, and then went about my ’nighttime routine‘, applying lotion all over my legs, arms, torso, chest, neck, and shoulders. I slipped into the plush terry bathrobe as Mimi had requested, donning the pair of white satin and lace panties from the bureau, then removed most of my makeup with cold cream.

I was sitting at the vanity, slowly brushing my hair, when Mimi knocked. She was wearing her fine wool green tartan gown. Her robe was open enough that I could see her creamy white cotton empire waist gown beneath. She was carrying a large knitted handbag that she placed on the loveseat.

"Are you all done applying your lotions, Evelyn?" she asked casually.

"Yes, Mimi."

"Have you been counting your strokes?" she asked.

"Sort of" I giggled "I lost count at seventy a little while ago."

"Here, let me" she said, taking the brush from my hand. She idly brushed my hair for a few strokes, and then cleared her throat.

"Evelyn, there‘s something I need to ask you."

The pause was long enough that I replied "Uh… okay, Mimi."

"Evelyn… do you still have problems with bedwetting?"

"What??? Of course not!" I blurted out. As a child, I had problems with bedwetting, and my mattress had a rubber sheet on top until I was eight or nine. Mother thought I should be wearing diapers to bed, but I had refused. But as I grew out of that phase, I became aware that I had a weak bladder — our family doctor dismissed it as an ’active bladder‘ and said it was nothing to worry about and just ’plan ahead‘. But when I was sick with hepatitis, a nurse suggested that mother purchase some disposable diapers and bed liners, explaining that in my weakened state, I might become incontinent. I didn‘t wear the diapers, but I did allow the bed liner to be placed on top of the mattress. While I didn‘t have any accidents, there were a few occasions when I caught myself, waking up just in time.

"Now don‘t be mad, Evelyn…" she replied somewhat crossly. "I just wanted to make sure. The last thing we want is for you to wet these beautiful sheets and bed linens, not to mention this exquisite nightgown, don‘t you think?"

"Of course not, Mimi" I whined, adding "I haven‘t wet the bed in years. You know that!"

"Well, I just wasn‘t sure" she continued, her voice somewhat offended. "But I‘ve been thinking dear, that the emotions you‘ve released might trigger a bedwetting episode — after all, bedwetting does have emotional roots."

"It won‘t be a problem, okay, Mimi?" I retorted with a huff.

"Don‘t talk to me in that tone, Evelyn. After all, I‘m trying to help you" she said, raising her voice. "You do want my help, don‘t you?"

"Sorry…" I replied sheepishly.

"Well?" Her pause was long enough that I realized she wanted a definitive answer.

"Yes, Mimi, I want your help" I whispered, my face red.

"That‘s better. So… just in case, Evelyn, I brought along some couche-culottes" she said matter-of-factly. The last word sounded like "koosh-coo-lots".

"Some what?" I asked, stammering.

"Couche-culottes… Sorry, that‘s French. I think in English its nappies."

"Oh" I replied. I just sat there red-faced, my ears ringing.

"I would like you to wear them tonight and every night for a while, until we‘re sure you won‘t be wetting yourself in bed."

"Mimi" I whined. But it came out wrong. Instead of sounding indignant, I sounded like pleading resignation.

"Good" she said, thinking that my whine was meant as resignation. "I‘m glad you agree — I‘m adamant about this and the last thing I need is any arguments from you."

"Oh" I replied. Her tone was aggressive and quelled the thoughts I had of refusing.

She took the large knitted handbag she had left on the loveseat and went behind the behind the dressing screen, coming out a few moments later with the handbag.

"Evelyn, I want you to go and put on the couche-culottes I laid out" she said, standing by the dressing screen, her arms folded in a defiant posture, and nodding towards the dressing screen.

I rose and walked toward her, my head down, slipped behind the dressing screen, and examined what she put on the ottoman.

First, there was a pair of simple soft cotton terrycloth pantie briefs, white, the wide elastic waistband supplemented with a wide drawstring closure. I picked them up and noticed that the inside of the crotch had a couple of sewn-in loops that held a thick pad covered with soft terrycloth. What was inside the terrycloth covering I didn‘t know, but I suspected it was something synthetic, designed to hold lots of water. The pad was removable, only held in place by the loops, and was about ten inches long, three or four inches wide, and about two inches thick. The pad obviously was meant to hold most of the water and wick it away from the rest of the panties.

Next was a pair of baby blue shiny satin nylon briefs with lace panels on each side. The panties were lined on the inside with clear plastic. The elastic at the waistband and legs was an inch or more wide and backed with puckered cotton. I suspected that both the width and cotton backing were extra protection against leakage.

"A friend of mine left these behind" said Mimi from the other side of the screen. "She had an operation that caused her to be incontinent for a while. Anyway, she, uh, had bought a supply of these and I ended up with them when she no longer needed them."

"Oh… okay" I replied. It seemed like a made up story, but I wasn‘t going to question her. I removed my panties and slipped on the cotton terrycloth panties; drawing them past my dainty and high up on my waist, and then tied the drawstring. They felt really nice; the bulky pad pulled tight against me felt, well, sensual. The terrycloth was soft and plush. The plastic lined nylon panties came next. The plastic was stiff and crinkly and rustled when I drew them on. They fit tight around my waist and legs but the front panel and sides were snug, but the bottom and back were loose.

"How do they fit, Evelyn?"

"Uh… fine, Mimi."

"Well, come on out then. I want you to put some more lotion on your legs before you put on your stockings."

I tied the bathrobe tight around me and stepped out. She motioned for me to sit at the vanity and she went to the bathroom shelf to choose a lotion for me.

I sat at the vanity, parting my robe and applying the lilac-scented lotion she had selected. As I did, she took the stockings and rolled them for me.

"I assume you know the proper way to put on stockings, correct, Evelyn?"

"Yes, Mimi, I do" I lisped softly. She watched as I carefully rolled the stockings up my legs.

"Good, you‘re doing it just right" she said.

She didn‘t give me much privacy, watching as I drew the stockings to the top of my thigh, revealing the satin nylon panties. When I was nearly done, she took the dance panties and peignoir behind the dressing screen. Without any instruction, I slipped behind the screen, removed my bathrobe, and donned the panties and peignoir.

"Very nice, Evelyn, such very nice things" she said as I came out from behind the screen. She was holding the matching robe and helped me into it.

"I‘ll be back in a few minutes, Evelyn" she said, taking my underthings from the wingback chair. "We‘ll have a bedtime sherry. In the meantime, you‘ll find some more things in the bag" she said, motioning to the knitted bag on the loveseat. "Find some space in your bureau for them, alright?"

The bag contained about a dozen of the terrycloth panties, an equal number of the pads covers, and about twice as many manufactured absorbent pads made of synthetic material with a moisture barrier. The bag also contained three panties identical to the ones I was wearing, except their color was white, pink, and black. It seemed that everything was new and never worn or washed. I found a place in the bottom drawer of the bureau for them.

When Mimi returned, she was carrying two crystal liquor glasses of sherry. I was sitting at the vanity, brushing my hair. She handed me a glass, then sat down in the wingback chair, sitting upright with her legs crossed beneath her long nightgown.

"Have you had a nice day so far, Evelyn?" she asked.

"Oh yes Mimi — it‘s been wonderful."

"Good. Now I want to wear the couche-culottes every night or when you take a nap. I‘ll be checking them for wetness and if I don‘t find any within the next week or so, then you‘ll have passed my test and you won‘t have to wear them anymore. Understood?"

"Yes, Mimi" I answered, with a bit of whine.

"Now, what ladies underthings do you want to wear to school tomorrow? I suppose we should pick out your school clothes as well."

She decided that I should wear the white charmeuse foundations and the matching chemise, and tap pantie, along with gray stockings. She laid these lovelies out on the ottoman. I followed her into my ’other‘ room to choose some outerwear. She told me that she didn‘t want me to dress in anything to school that would cause ’speculation‘ as she put it. Her criteria was first to hide my underthings and secondly not to wear anything rough or coarse that might abrade my underthings. Together, we choose a pair of dark corduroy slacks and an earth-tone brown Donegal knit crew neck sweater. I had a dove gray zip up hooded sweatshirt that I would wear over the sweater. My shoes were a pair of worn leather loafers. I appreciated that she didn‘t try to make me wear feminine outerwear to school, but I was a bit concerned about the sweater collection that my mother had created for me; the sweater that Mimi had selected was probably the least feminine of the collection and I wouldn‘t be able to wear it every day.

We returned to my boudoir and she turned down the bed for me. She had me remove my robe and slide into bed, then covered me up and tucked me in. It was only nine o‘clock, but she said I needed my ’beauty rest‘. She kissed me on the forehead and said "pleasant dreams, Evelyn" before leaving, draping the peignoir over the wingback chair and turning off the overhead light.

I lay in bed stunned by what Mimi had in store for me — making me wear ’couche-culottes‘ in bed (my, but I liked the way they felt, so soft and snug, the plastic all crinkly), and making me wear a full set of underthings to school. I had to use the toilet and entertained the notion of wetting my couche-culottes, but I couldn‘t bring myself to do so and used the toilet instead. Before drawing the couche-culottes back on, I wrapped my daintie with my mother‘s chiffon scarf. Back in bed, I had a nice long pillow ride, sullying the scarf for the second time that day.

Monday

Mimi knocked on my door early to wake me and came into my room a few minutes later, dressed as she was the night before. She had me go to the bathroom and remove the terrycloth panties so that she could inspect them. I came out with the panties and showed her that they were dry.

"Very well, Evelyn" she said. I thought I detected a bit of disappointment in her voice. "Did your stockings stay up overnight?"

"Umm, pretty much…" I replied. In fact, the stockings had slipped down a bit to just above my knee.

"Do you think you should wear a garter belt to bed then?" she asked.

"Maybe" I replied.

"We‘ll give it a try tonight, then" she said.

I went down for breakfast still wearing the negligee and robe. Back upstairs, I showered and scrubbed, making sure any last vestiges of make-up and nail polish were gone. I then dressed in the things that Mimi had chosen for me.

Mimi drove me to school, having changed into her pleated royal blue wool skirt and white cashmere twinset. At school, it drove me to absolute distraction to sit in class thinking about the lovely underthings I was wearing and that I‘d soon be home, wearing a dress and stockings and heels and makeup. In fact, Ms. Hunter asked me after class if I was ’okay‘ because I seemed ’pensive‘. She told me again how much she enjoyed the concert and that she was glad she was able to give me a ride home. Between classes, I rushed to the private toilet at the school library and had a little thrill when I removed my slacks and underthings to sit on the toilet.

Mimi picked me up just before noon. She was now wearing the flattering cerulean blue surplice wrap jersey dress beneath her black wool coat, finishing her ensemble with dark blue stockings and shiny black leather court pumps.

"Are you ready to go home and change into a dress, Evelyn?" she asked with a smile as we pulled away from the parking lot.

"Yes Mimi, I am" I replied softly.

"I picked some things out for you to wear. I enjoyed doing it. We‘ll have lunch when we get home; then you can go to your room and do your dressing, alright?"

"Yes Mimi, thank you." I was getting all creamy and was glad I was wearing a pantie napkin.

As we ate lunch, Mimi asked how everything went at school.

"There were no problems, Mimi" I had to admit.

As soon as lunch was finished, Mimi said with a smile and a wink: "Now up to your room, Evelyn, and out of those schoolboy clothes and into something appropriate for a fine young lady."

The dressing screen was adorned with the oh-so-pretty chiffon two-piece; pink and red roses and lilac against an ivory background. The matching scarf was casually draped over the screen. On the floor beneath the dress was a pair of white stiletto heeled T-strap sandals, taken from my mother‘s closet. Hung from the back of the screen was the white crepe de chine chemise and dance pantie, so beautiful with their profuse point de gaze lace with flecks of pink and blue in the lace. The matching foundations — brassiere, garter belt, and high-cut brief — were laid on the ottoman along with white silk stockings and the pair of delightful silk and lace tulip panties in white. The robe that matched the set was draped on the loveseat.

I had a lovely time dressing and arrived back downstairs a little over an hour later, walking unsteadily on the high heels. I had added the pearls and the pink chiffon hair bow just at the nape of my neck, gathering together my curled tresses. I was a fine young lady dressed for in the garden.

"So lovely, Miss Evelyn" said Mimi as she watched me as I descended the stairs. "Now you go sit in the study and do your homework. I‘ll bring you your tea."

I sat in the overstuffed leather chair in the study and cracked open a textbook, forcing myself to read. Mimi arrived a few minutes later with a pot of tea and the vitamins I had forgotten to take with lunch. A half hour later, the phone rang. Mimi answered and was soon in the study, carrying the portable phone.

"It‘s your mommy, Evelyn" she said, handing me the phone then leaving the room.

Our conversation didn‘t last too long, mainly because my stepfather was in the room and she couldn‘t talk. She did say that she had talked to Mimi earlier in the day, saying "…and Mimi says everything is fine. You can ask her later."

After the usual chat about sites, jet-lag, and itineraries, we hung up.

"I told her that you got her note and that you had asked for me to help you" said Mimi a few minutes later. "I told her what happened yesterday and that you would be dressing-up after school. Too bad your stepfather was in the room; I‘m sure your mommy would love to have a private conversation."

A few minutes later, she arrived back in the study with her camera, an older Nikon with a flash attachment — she hadn‘t yet gone digital. She was a good photographer and we had a couple of her photographs in the house. She had me pose in the chair holding my schoolbook, saying she wanted a couple of pictures of me as "a studious young lady".

Soon it was time for dinner and Mimi told me to go upstairs and freshen up. I spent several minutes at the vanity primping and freshening my makeup, thinking about my mother and what our ’private‘ conversation would be like.

I set the table and again had wine with dinner. Donning an apron, I cleared the dishes while Mimi went upstairs to my room. Soon, it was time for my nighttime routine. Mimi had chosen the moonglow sand washed silk set. On the ottoman was a fresh pair of the terrycloth panties and the same blue nylon and plastic briefs I had worn the evening before, as well as the white stockings. She had also laid out the white satin bustier.

It was much the same as the evening before; Mimi came up as I was sitting at the vanity in my bathrobe, just as I was finishing applying my overnight lotion. She was wearing her dark blue checked jersey robe and monitored me to ensure that I donned the couche-culottes. She had laid out the bustier, she said, not only because it had suspenders for my stockings, but also because it would protect the silk of my bed set. I liked wearing it because the padded breast cups gave me some shape. I found that I didn‘t need the shoulder straps and removed them. I brushed my hair out — one hundred strokes — and Mimi did a dozen or so strokes herself.

After she said her goodnights, I had a splendid time, my thoughts absorbed with the startling turn of events, the realization that I would be dressing every day, day in and day out until my mother and stepfather returned. And when my stepfather was gone, I would be dressing then as well.

Tuesday

Tuesday morning, Mimi again had me go to the bathroom, remove the terrycloth panties, and again show her that they were dry. The calves of my legs were sore — I guessed it was from wearing heels all the previous evening.

Mimi selected the blue silk surah foundations, chemise, and tap pantie for me to wear beneath my school clothes; soft stone-washed denim jeans, gray merino wool cable-knit sweater, and my hooded sweatshirt. I was a little less on edge at school and realized that Mimi‘s plan to make me more ’at-ease‘ might actually be working. She picked me up at the usual time, wearing her blue pleated skirt, black cashmere twin-set, shiny black leather court pumps, and a pretty scarf. "What time do you have to be at the library?" she asked on the way home.

"Not for an hour or so" I replied, adding that it was really up to me what time I arrived.

"Oh good, that will give you plenty of time to change."

After lunch, I entered my boudoir. Hung on the dressing screen was the pair of menswear-styled fawn colored rayon slacks and the matching fine silk and cashmere jewel neck sweater with off-white trim at the neck, waist, and cuffs; the very set that I had worn for dinner with Mimi and mother. On the floor was the pair of ecru-colored oxfords. Behind the dressing screen was my white silk charmeuse daywear and foundations, the shaping pantie, and a pair of white silk stockings. On the bed, Mimi had laid the new sweater jacket that mother had left for me in the closet; off-white with a shawl collar and hood and a self-tie belt.

Mimi knocked and entered, then walked over to the dressing screen and removed the slacks and sweater, holding them up and saying "I thought you should wear these things to the library today, dear."

"But Mimi, the slacks and sweater are just… just…" I stammered.

She completed my thoughts for me: "Too ladylike to wear? Nonsense" she replied. "If you wear that nice sweater jacket" she said, nodding at the bed, "no one will notice. Besides, you‘ve told me that you hardly see anyone but Melanie when you‘re at the library. And your mommy told me she thought you should dress nicely when you went to work, mentioning this sweater and slacks."

I sat down on the slipper chair and let out a little huff, saying "Oh Mimi —it‘s just all so… you know… so sudden."

"Now, now, Evelyn; you have to trust me, dear. I‘m doing this for your own good, so that when your mommy comes home, she won‘t have to deal with you droning on about not being ready to step out as her daughter."

"Yes, I know" I replied softly, bowing my head.

"Good!" she said with a smile. "Now get yourself dressed. I‘d like for you to wear those other earrings, too, and I think you should put your hair back with that nice barrette" she added, motioning to the vanity where she had placed my small gold hoop earrings and a thin gold hair barrette.

"Alright" I whispered, bowing my head again and looking at my manicured fingernails.

"Good. No more arguing, then? Now you go ahead and get dressed. I‘ll come up and check on you in half an hour."

I finished dressing and checked myself in the mirror — definitely too feminine. I turned to look at my derriá¨re — the shaping pantie really accented it. Fortunately, the sweater was roomy and the brassiere wasn‘t padded, so there were no telltale bumps. Then I donned the sweater jacket — it hid the sweater and my shaped derriá¨re, and the jacket itself was just androgynous enough that it wasn‘t immediately obvious I was entirely dressed in ladies things.

Mimi came to check on me and opined "You look very nice, Evelyn. With the jacket, it‘s hard to tell you‘re wearing ladies things." She was carrying a small tweed duffle bag with a shoulder strap that was part of mother‘s luggage collection. She put the duffle on the loveseat then went to my closet and retrieved the chiffon skirt I had worn the day before, along with its matching scarf. She held the skirt up to me and said "This skirt goes very nice with that sweater, don‘t you think?" I had to agree — the colors went well together, and the combination of chiffon and cashmere was quite fetching.

Mimi cleared her throat, saying "I was thinking, Evelyn, that it would be good for you to dress up while at work… another opportunity for you to become more comfortable. From what you‘ve told me, you have ample time alone. So I think you should bring this skirt along and change into it once you‘re upstairs. If, by chance, you have visitors, you can slip into the bathroom and change back to your slacks in a jiffy. It‘s just a thought, Evelyn; you don‘t have to dress up at work if you don‘t feel safe. But I‘d like for you to take these with you just in case you do decide that you want to be a lady librarian for the day."

She carefully folded the skirt and scarf put them in the duffle bag. "You‘ll need some other things, too. Fetch those sachets you use for padding, dear, and I want you to gather up some makeup and put it in this" she said, holding up a cosmetic bag that she had taken out of the duffle bag. She retrieved my pink and cream two-toned pumps from the closet, wrapped them in some tissue paper from the closet, and then put them in the duffel.

I couldn‘t argue with her — she wasn‘t making me wear these things to work, she was only suggesting that I might change into them if I felt safe. So I went to my drawer and handed her my sachets, blushing deeply, then sat at the vanity and selected a tube of lipstick, a compact of face powder, highlight blush and brush, a tube of mascara, and eyeshadow.

"Anything else you think you might need, Evelyn?" she asked as I handed her the cosmetic bag.

"Well… maybe" I offered, adding a hair brush, the bun curler and bobby pins. A proper librarian would put up her hair, I thought.

We arrived at the library a few minutes before two o‘clock. Mimi wanted to come inside and say hello to Melanie. I was able to put the duffle out of site on the stairwell before we greeted Melanie. She was pleased to see Mimi and offered us some coffee, leading us to her office.

We served ourselves coffee and then Mimi and I sat down on her office couch. Melanie sat opposite us in an overstuffed chair. I tucked my legs beneath me, trying to hide the oxfords with their cute Cuban heels. Melanie gave me a look-over and said "That‘s a very nice jacket you‘re wearing, dear. As are those slacks."

"Yes, they are quite nice" offered Mimi. "Ellen bought it for him. She wants Evel…" she paused for a moment, catching herself about to say ’Evelyn‘, then continued. "…Dahl… to dress up nicely for work and bought him this to wear."

"Yes, I can see that" she replied with a wry smile. "You look very nice in your sweaters, dear" she added, smiling at me.

She told us that she wanted to close early, around four-thirty, and asked if I could lock up when I left. "Sure" I replied. I wanted to get out of sight as quickly as possible, so I rose and took my coffee over to the cart that held a small pile of books to shelve, and then headed to the elevator with the cart, grabbing the duffle bag on the way. Mimi said she‘d come see me before she left.

Again, I had the upper floors to myself. I was shelving books when Mimi arrived.

"I have a few errands to run, Evelyn, and I‘ll pick you up around five-thirty. You know, that means you‘ll have an hour to yourself after Melanie leaves. It‘ll be dark by then. I think you should be dressed-up when I come to pick you up."

I started to protest; I was worried about being seen. Mimi reassured me, saying she‘d park close to the back door so I wouldn‘t be seen leaving the library and we‘d go right home using less traveled streets. She went through her reasons again; this little escapade would make me more comfortable and so forth. I gave in without further protest.

A bit after Mimi left, Melanie called me on the intercom and asked me to come downstairs to help her with something. Nervously, I made my way down the stairs.

Melanie needed me to retrieve some books from a tall shelf. "I could probably reach them" she said, "but my shoulder has been acting up. Can you be a dear and fetch them for me?" She had positioned a stool beneath the shelf. The task would require me to stretch a bit, which would fully expose the heels of the oxfords. I couldn‘t refuse her, and hoped that she‘d leave so she wouldn‘t see them, but she stood next to me, ready to receive the books as I retrieved them from the shelf. So I climbed the stool and stretched out for the books, exposing not only the heels of my cute oxfords, but the white stockings as well, although she had no way of knowing they were stockings rather than standard (albeit thin silk) ankle socks.

After I handed her the first set of books, she asked "Don‘t you want to take off your jacket? You must be warm, dear."

"No… I‘m okay" I replied.

"Are you sure?"

"Uh-huh" I replied, reaching for the next set of books. As I handed her the books, the belt around the jacket slipped and the waist of the jacket bunched up around the misplaced belt.

"Dear, you‘re going to stretch that sweater all out. You really need to take it off" she said empathically. She was right, off course, and it was awfully hot with it on. So I stepped off the stool and removed the jacket, draping it over a chair and then straightening the pullover sweater.

"What a cute sweater" she said as I returned to the stool.

As soon as I stretched for the next set of books, I really regretted taking off the jacket, for the sweater pulled up in the back and I was sure that my silk charmeuse camisole revealed itself. I wondered if the outline of my brassiere clasps were showing beneath the sweater as I stretched. If they did, Melanie didn‘t say anything.

I had one more set of books to fetch and then I was done. I hurriedly slipped back into the sweater jacket. I was able to escape a few minutes later, my heels clicking on the hardwood floor as I made my way to the stairs, aware that Melanie was watching me.

A half-hour before Melanie left, I began to transform myself into the coy young lady librarian that I fancied myself. I minced about in my chiffon skirt, my heels clicking on the hardwood floor, my hair done up in a bun, my face tastefully made up; the demure and diffident librarian tending to her books. Catching glimpses of myself in the few mirrors, I soon became rather aroused. I was being so naughty.

I was nervously waiting by the back door form Mimi to come and pick me up. I was so nervous, my palms sweaty. I was stepping out again, just like I had with Auntie. I kept telling myself that it would be alright, that I wouldn‘t be discovered, that I would be safe and secure driving the short distance back home with Mimi. She finally arrived and I dashed out to her car. She giggled at my furtiveness, saying I raised more suspicions by acting so nervous. We drove home without incident. It was but a brief stepping-out, but it was still oh-so-thrilling.

After we arrived home, I went to my room and touched up my makeup and added a bit more jewelry. As I sat at my vanity, I thought about Melanie and how she must have known I was all crossdressed, and how my holiday was turning out so much different than I had anticipated.

My original plan — before Mimi had taken charge — was to stay home on Wednesday and Thursday, giving myself five whole days to indulge in my desires in private. But now that Mimi was staying at the house with me, I had been reconsidering. Mimi worked at the art gallery on Thursdays, so I definitely wanted to stay home then and have a very private day. But my little escapade at the library had left me in such a mood, so I decided to go through with my plan. After dinner, I told Mimi that I thought I was getting a sore throat and there might be a possibility that I wouldn‘t be attending school the next day. I sweetened the ruse by saying that I was all caught up on homework and I just had some easy reading to do.

Mimi‘s reaction was more than I expected or wanted. She put her hand on my forehead to feel if I had a fever. She took my temperature, which was slightly elevated (for no reason, actually). I guess I looked the part as well, for the emotional events of the last few days had left me tired. She readily agreed that I should stay home the next day and had me take various vitamins. She suggested that I go take a nice warm bath and even went upstairs and drew a bath for me, adding bath salts and bubble soaps.

While I was bathing, she laid out a bedtime dressing of my blue surah silk chemise, tap pantie, and the white bustier, along with the white cotton stockings I had been wearing and the couche-culottes with the baby blue plastic pantie briefs. Dressed in my thick terry bathrobe, I applied my overnight lotions, donned the things she had laid out, and brushed out my hair. She checked on me, ensuring that I was wearing the couche-culottes and had applied lotion, and then tucked me into bed. Of course I didn‘t fall asleep right away; there was a lovely long and gentle creaming to attend to.

Wednesday

Mimi knocked on my door at the usual time, interrupting the beginnings of what promised to be a lovely time with my pillows. I untangled myself, called out "just a minute", threw on the robe, and unlocked the door, trying to hide my aroused state. I quickly returned to bed, sitting up and covering myself. She was wearing her blue robe and black ballet dress as a nightgown. She came in and sat on the bed next to me.

"How are you feeling today, dear?"

"I feel okay, Mimi" I replied, trying to sound a little under the weather.

"Do you feel well enough to go to school?" she asked.

"I suppose I could, but I‘d rather stay home" I replied.

"No problem, dear. Just stay home today and take care of yourself."

"I think I should" I replied.

"Now, Evelyn, I have to ask: did you wet yourself last night?"

"No, Mimi" I whined.

"Just checking, dear; it‘s alright if you did. I would have found out anyway."

I came down for breakfast. It was a raw and blustery fall day and Mimi had already lit a fire. As we were eating breakfast, Mimi said "Since you‘re staying home today and taking it easy, I‘ve got an idea. Why don‘t we both dress up in something really nice? You could dress-up in that pink chiffon dress your mommy bought for you — I‘d really like to see you in that dress. And I‘ll dress in my blue chiffon evening gown. Then we‘ll take some pictures — I‘d like it if you could take a few of me. We can both start with a nice bath. How does that sound?"

"That sounds like fun, Mimi" I replied. How could I refuse?

"I‘d like to go to your mommy‘s room and take a bath, if you think that would be alright."

"Of course it would, Mimi — you don‘t need my permission" I said earnestly.

"Do you think it would be alright if I wore some of your mommy‘s jewelry?"

"But of course, Mimi! You know… she left her diamonds behind… They‘d look so pretty against the blue chiffon" I suggested.

"What a wonderful suggestion, Evelyn. Thank you."

She went to her room and retrieved her blue evening gown and asked me to take it upstairs for her. She‘d be along in a few minutes. I was happy to lay it out on mother‘s bed; after all, Mimi was setting out things for me to wear. I took out my mother‘s diamonds and put them next to Mimi‘s dress, opening the presentation boxes for her. I even brought out mother‘s diamond tiara.

As I went to my boudoir to begin my bath, I met Mimi in the hallway. She was carrying a laundry basket and a canvas bag. The canvas bag contained toiletries and things for her bath. I couldn‘t help but notice what was in the laundry basket — underneath a pair of blue pumps was a mound underthings — black lace over white satin. I couldn‘t tell what the exact items were, but thought to myself ’oh my‘ as I headed to my boudoir, realizing that Mimi would be wearing such racy underthings. In one sense, it made me queasy — wearing such unmentionables. On the other hand, it was comforting to know that she really meant to dress up, as I did.

I bathed, thinking about Mimi and her lingerie. After powdering and doing my nails, and before dressing in the pink satin foundations and the lovely pink daywear mother had bought me, I partook of a bit of hashish, figuring that Mimi wouldn‘t notice by the time we both finished dressing. While romantic classical music filled my bedchamber, I really got into my dressing, donning the foundations, adding a lace-trimmed damask handkerchief pantie napkin, a pair of tulip panties over the bikini panties, slowly drawing on pink silk stockings, and then finishing with the daywear; camisole, dance pantie, and pettislip. I slipped into the white crepe de chine long robe with its bell sleeves and lace-adorned shoulders and sat at my vanity to do my hair and makeup. I went fairly dramatic with my makeup, really bringing out my eyelashes with mascara, doing my eyeshadow hues of pink and lilac transitioning to a deep plum, adding a bit of shadow beneath my eyes, just like my makeup book said I should do. My cheeks glowed softly with pink blush, my lips all pouty in plum. My hair was curled and gently drawn back into the pink chiffon hair bow, exposing the pearl-drop earrings. I was having a delightful time, suspended in a sort of limbo state, all creamy and dreamy.

With serendipitous timing, there came a gentle knock on the door. "Evelyn dear? Would you be able to help me with my dress?" Mimi asked from the other side of the door.

"Of course, Mimi" I replied, closing my robe around me and opening the door. She was wearing her blue robe. She had done her makeup and looked fabulous. "Wow!" I said, unable to restrain myself "you look so pretty!"

"Why thank you Evelyn. But not as pretty as you" she replied with a wink.

I followed her to mother‘s room. The blue evening gown was still on mother‘s bed where I had laid it. It suddenly dawned on me what was going to happen next; Mimi undid the sash to her robe and removed it, revealing her set of white satin foundations overlaid with black lace; a long line brassiere, a waist cincher with suspenders, and a pair of briefs, along with black stockings with lace tops. Even though Mimi was older and matronly, she still had a great body and skin; nothing old or wrinkled like I expected. I realized that my perception of women in their forties was totally wrong — they weren‘t wrinkled old hags! That and the fact that she was wearing such a risqué set made me blush beet red.

"Ah, Evelyn… now don‘t disappoint me and think that just because I‘m older doesn‘t mean I can‘t wear nice underthings like you" she said with a smile.

She took the dress from the bed and stepped into it. I stood behind her and guided her arms into the sleeves and brought the dress around her shoulders. The zipper in the back was long and prone to snagging, and I could see how she would have trouble with it. I took my time, both to ensure that the zipper didn‘t catch and because it seemed like the right thing to do. After I zipped her up, she sat at my mother‘s vanity and asked me to fasten the diamond necklace. I could sense that the nape of her neck was sensitive to my touch, so I was as gentle as possible, barely touching her nape as she bowed her head and I helped her gather her hair. She gave a quiet little ’hmmm‘ as I took the necklace and carefully clasped it. The air became heavy with sensual tones and I had to quell my feelings; after all, this was Mimi — she was almost family.

"Would it be alright if I brushed your hair, Mimi?" I asked softly. Her hair did need a brushing, and I wanted to reciprocate for when she brushed my hair.

"How sweet of you, Evelyn; yes, please do."

I spent a good ten minutes brushing her hair. She seemed to really enjoy it, letting quiet umm‘s and ahh‘s escape occasionally. I complimented her a few times, telling her how beautiful she looked. Then I helped her with the tiara. We both decided that it didn‘t really work, so I put it back in its presentation box. She had done most of her makeup already, but after I finished brushing her hair, she put on some finishing touches as I stood behind her. I helped her into the diamond bracelet. I then offered to help her with her black pumps, bending down and kneeling on the floor.

"Oh my, Evelyn" she whispered as I guided her stocking‘d feet into the pumps. "I never would have thought that such a fine young lady would be attending to me like this."

"My pleasure, milady" I replied with a smile. We both giggled. "Really — I‘m happy to help you Mimi. You‘ve been so kind to me" I added.

She rose and took a few turns in the dressing mirror. I complimented her again. "Well, let‘s get you finished, Evelyn" she said with a wink.

Back in my boudoir, she helped me dress in the same way that I helped her. She had me stand in front of the cheval mirror and held my lovely petal pink chiffon dress open for me to step into. Then she guided it up, arranging my pettislip as she did, and slowly zipped me up as I watched my reflection. When she was done, she had me do a turn and said "Oh, you are so pretty in your pretty dress. You are so lucky to have such a lovely dress. I‘d have loved to have a dress like that when I was young." She had me sit at my vanity and helped me with my pearl necklace and bracelet, then sat on the loveseat as I raised my legs for her to slip on my pink heels.

We proceeded downstairs. Mimi had brought a camera tripod to hold the camera steady for the low indoor light. Mimi struck some elegant poses by the piano and I clicked away. Then I had the idea of bringing out some of mothers furs; the white fox capelet and the natural mink coat trimmed with sable. She posed with capelet, but not the coat since it was too small for her. Then it was my turn. Mimi guided me through a few poses by the piano and a few by the fireplace.

We had a light lunch with a glass of wine and my usual vitamins. Afterwards, Mimi suggested that perhaps I should take an afternoon nap. "After all, dear, you‘re still under-the-weather and we just can‘t let you become sick. Let me attend to your room and put out some things for your nap."

"Okay, Mimi, that sounds like a good idea" I replied. I certainly didn‘t need any encouragement — I was in a really creamy mood and nothing would suit me more than to have a lovely afternoon nap.

"In the meantime, why don‘t you fix us a pot of tea and bring it upstairs? I brought some of my favorite tea — you‘ll find it on the counter. It‘s a nice relaxing tea, good for helping you sleep. You should mix it with your special tea that your mommy wants you to drink — half and half should be about right."

I went to make tea, finding Mimi‘s tea in an unlabeled tin. As she had suggested, I mixed it half and half with my tea and put it into the infuser. After adding the boiling water, I put a tea cozy over the pot, and set it out on a silver tray with two cups and a little bowl of honey, then gingerly made my way upstairs. I was almost titching by the time I reached my room. Mimi was sitting in one of the wingback chairs, her legs crossed. She had me put the tray on the table between the two chairs. After I set the tray down, she rose and guided me over to the cheval mirror and wordlessly unzipped my dress and had me step out of it, holding my hand to steady me for I had neglected to remove my heels. She placed the dress on its padded and scented hanger and hung it from the dressing screen.

"Now go and change into the things I‘ve laid out for you dear. I‘ll be back in a few minutes. There‘s something I want to discuss with you."

I went behind the dressing screen, wondering what lovelies she had chosen for me to wear for my nap. I was surprised to find things from the dove gray with peach trim soft combed cotton set mother had bought me; the camisole, culottes, and robe. On the ottoman were the couche-culottes; terrycloth panties and the pink nylon and plastic panties. Although Mimi was making me wear the couche-culottes at night, I was a little surprised to see them laid out for an afternoon nap.

I first took the opportunity to use the toilet, for the wine had its usual effect on me. Mimi arrived about the time I had finished changing. My foundations and daywear were scattered about the ottoman or draped over the dressing screen. I drew the robe around me, slipped into the pair of white satin stiletto-heeled boudoir slippers and stepped out to find Mimi sitting in the wingback chair, pouring me a cup of tea. On the floor next to her was a laundry basket containing Mimi‘s blue robe and what looked like a folded small green flannel sheet — I recognized it as the waterproof bed liner that mother had put on my mattress when I was so sick with hepatitis.

"Come sit, dear, and have a cup of tea."

I took a few sips — it didn‘t taste much different — and put the cup down. "Drink it all, dear." As soon as I was finished, she poured me another cup. She had hardly touched hers. What was going on? I thought.

"Evelyn?" she began, clearing her throat and turning a bit to face me better, crossing her legs again and then straightening out her skirt "I want you to drink a lot of tea — several cups."

"What? Why?" I asked.

"Well, for my peace of mind, and yours perhaps, I want you to, um, test the couche-culottes to see how much of your water they can hold."

"What? Eww…" I whined "You mean you want me to, you know… pee?"

"Evelyn, please don‘t use that sort of foul language. If you must, say ’pass water‘ instead."

"Eww…" I said again, meaning for it to come out as an expression of disgust, but it came out differently; more of an expression of pleasurable anticipation. Three thoughts raced through my mind. First was how dare she violate my privacy by asking me to wet myself. Second was that I would have to protest for my own dignity. Third was how thrilling it would be to ’test‘ the couche-culottes, to feel what it was like to wet myself. I tried to think of something to say, but just sat there stunned, my mouth open. Finally, all I could do was to let out a soft whine of "Mimi…" and bow my head.

"Now, now, Evelyn; you‘ll be fine" she said in a reassuring tone. "It‘s something that must be done, something I need you to do for my own peace of mind. The last thing we need is for you to have an accident one night and wake up to find your lovely bedthings all wet. Don‘t worry… you‘ll be fine, dear. So while you to drink your tea let me explain some precautions I‘ve taken. I chose those cotton things for you to wear so that if there is any leakage, we‘ll be able to see the wetness on the cotton and not on one of your lovely silk panties. Also…" she paused, reaching into the laundry basket by her chair and removing the waterproof bed liner "…just in case they don‘t hold, I want you to lay down on top of this while you‘re napping to protect your nice sheets."

"But… but" I stammered. I just didn‘t know what to say.

She sat back down, crossed her legs again and said "Don‘t be so negative, Evelyn. It‘s not like I‘m asking you to do something horrible. It‘s just a little test. Now drink your tea. I‘m not leaving until you drink most of the pot."

What little shred of dignity I had left disappeared. If Mimi‘s intent was to make me even more submissive to her will, she had succeeded; I couldn‘t mount a protest because I wanted to know what it would be like — it was so naughty and taboo and forbidden, such an acquiescence of control. In a way, I found it erotic. The response I made summed up all my emotions…

"Yes, Mimi."

"Oh good, Evelyn; I‘m so glad you‘re not putting up a fuss. You‘re such a sweet young lady, you know that?"

"Thank you, Mimi" I replied as I downed the cup. The discussion seemed over, and she poured me another cup of tea, then rose and went behind the dressing screen, gathering my foundations, and putting them in the laundry basket. Much to my embarrassment, I had left the lace-trimmed damask handkerchief in my panties and they fell out when she put the panties into the laundry basket. She picked up the handkerchief, gave a little ’hmm‘ of comprehension, and put it in the laundry basket. We chatted about the photography session we had that morning and how much fun it was. Quite suddenly, I had an almost uncontrollable urge to go. I wondered if the tea Mimi had me mix with mine was making me need to go. I suspected that it was.

"Mimi?" I interrupted, my voice soft and lilting, "I… I have to go."

"You mean you have to pass water? Alright dear, it‘s alright. Now you may find this difficult at first. Here‘s what I suggest you do. Go into the bathroom and stand or sit as you would normally… subconsciously, your body will then naturally relax. I‘ll wait here."

I stood, placing the palms of my hands on the front of my hips, my head bowed as if observing my couche-culottes, my long hair falling in front of me. "Okay, Mimi, I guess that makes sense…" I lisped.

I went to the bathroom, closed the door and stood facing the mirror above the sink. I really had to go, but, as Mimi had warned, my subconscious was preventing me — it was demanding that I remove my clothing as I normally would. It was a bit of cognitive dissonance — I had to concentrate on relaxing. Watching myself in the mirror, I slowly opened my robe. I wasn‘t yet to the stage of bursting, but I was close. I put my hands on the sink and bent over slightly, my breathing shallow. My whole body tingled in anticipation of relief. I felt flush, a little clammy. Then I felt a shivering chill move from my shoulders to my toes — what a sensation! My entire being was aware, tingling; it was not unlike some of the sensations I felt just before an orgasm. With an audible gasp, I trembled and shuddered and my water began to flow in a steady but weak stream — hardly a normal release. I had to will myself to increase the flow, sending another shiver down my spine. At first, I couldn‘t detect anything, but then I could feel the moisture spreading over the thick terrycloth panties and then… I could feel my water trickling down the sensitive skin around my daintie and I had an involuntary contraction, stopping my release. It hurt and I let out barely audible gasp. I had to begin again, for my bladder was crying for release. Again I concentrated, my breathing quick and shallow, and my body tingled and shivered and shook as the moment of relief arrived and I began to pass water again. Then another chilling shiver went down my spine. My subconscious finally acquiesced to the unfamiliar situation and I was able to let more water flow. I could not only feel the trickle on my skin, but could feel the pad begin to absorb my water and expand. Everything was becoming warm and moist beneath the protective panties. I was able to straighten up and watch myself in the mirror as blessed relief washed over me; my body had relaxed and I was now wetting myself with a steady but still somewhat weak stream. A minute or two had already passed, yet I felt that it could maintain the wetting for several more minutes. The chill was fading, replacing with a warm, almost cozy feeling. I looked at reflection and fondled my hair and let out a quiet moan of ’oh my…" Now I was very aware of how moist and warm the terrycloth panties and the pad between my legs were becoming. It didn‘t seem too bad; I squeezed my legs together and could tell that the pad still had capacity to absorb my water. There was no leakage. My stream faded to a meager trickle — I had relieved myself enough that I could have contracted and stopped the flow, but it seemed effortless just to stay in my current relaxed and subdued limbo state and let the trickle continue. The only one of my senses that wasn‘t affected was smell; I couldn‘t detect any. Perhaps it was the chamomile or something else in the tea, or the plastic panties working as they should.

I stood fondling my robe and hair, amazed at what had transpired and the state I was now in. The sensations that I had experienced were like nothing I had ever experienced before — the ache of fullness giving way to chills and tingles, how flush and fluttering I felt, how I quivered and shuddered and everything became tranquil and still as my water began to flow, its moist warmth spreading beneath my panties. It wasn‘t as intense as a creaming, of course, but the sensations were still intensely pleasurable. And through it all, I had remained stock-still; my entire being totally consumed with a simple biological act. The physical sensations I had just experienced, and continued to experience, had emotional counterparts as well, for here I was dressed and made up as a girl, wetting myself. It was a shameful; I was such a sissy.

I knew that this would not be the last time; oh, far from it. Mimi had done this to me. She had introduced me to this new source of pleasure. She must have known how it would affect me; I was completely enthralled.

My reverie was broken by Mimi asking "Is everything alright, dear?" Her voice was gentle and empathetic.

"Yes, Mimi; I‘m alright" I replied softly.

"Have you passed water yet, dear?"

"Yes" I lisped.

"Then you should come on out, dear, and let me see."

I opened the door, leaving my robe open, and gingerly walked into my boudoir, almost mincing on my heeled boudoir slippers. She reached up and stroked my hair, asking "That wasn‘t so bad, was it dear?"

"No… It was… it was okay" I replied in a high sing-song voice.

She opened my robe to expose the cotton culottes and had me turn for her — she was looking for signs of wetness on the gray cotton culottes. "Oh good" she said upon seeing no wetness.

"Now dear, before you take your nap, could you help me out of this dress?" she asked nonchalantly.

"Of course, Mimi" I replied softly.

She sat on the loveseat and I helped her remove her heels. She then stood facing the cheval mirror and I stepped behind her and began to unzip her. I couldn‘t be sure, but it felt like I was passing more water as I finished with the zipper and helped her out of the dress. She stood in her black lace over white satin foundations, not moving, facing the mirror.

"What do you think, Evelyn? Do I look good in my lingerie?" she coyly asked, laying on a thick French accent, looking at my reflection in the mirror.

I blushed deep red. "Oh Mimi" I whispered.

"I‘ll take that as a yes" she said with a smile, and then retrieved her blue robe and slipped it on. Then she sat in the wingback chair, crossing her legs again, letting her robe open to reveal them.

"Come sit for a minute. I‘d like you to have another cup of tea."

Sitting down on my wet couche-culottes was quite an experience. For the first time, I really felt the fullness of the pad as it squished against me. I didn‘t dare cross my legs, but sat upright, my knees almost touching, my feet elevated by the stiletto heels of the marabou-trimmed boudoir slippers.

"Mimi — I… I don‘t think I should have anymore" I said hoarsely, just above a whisper. "It makes me have to pass water."

"I realize this dear. But as I said, this is a test. If your couche-culottes can hold four cups of tea, then they should definitely last overnight."

"Yes Mimi" I replied. I was beyond and point of disagreeing with her — she had completely subdued me and we both knew it.

She poured my tea and as I sipped, she told me that she wanted me to continue wetting your couche-culottes unless there was a flood of water escaping and wetting the bed.

When I finished the cup, she helped me take off my robe and had me lay on the bed on top of the waterproof bed liner. She then covered me with the chenille throw blanket, her robe opening as she did so. She bent down, kissed me on the forehead, reminded me again that we were testing my couche-culottes, and left the room, closing the door.

I lay in bed, still stunned by what Mimi had done to me, shocked by the new source of pleasure that she had introduced me to. I began to pass more water. I could feel it trickling over me beneath my lace accented plastic panties. Soon after I finished passing, my daintie became so very aroused. I rose from bed and went to the bathroom, carrying a pillow with me. I took off my cotton culottes — they were still dry. I took a bath towel and wrapped it around me to absorb any wetness that might escape when I placed the pillow between the countertop and my daintie and began to churn, my face close to the mirror, whispering my O‘s. My couche-culottes were so warm and squishy and it took just a minute or two to add my cream to the thick and wet terrycloth panties.

I put on the cotton culottes and managed to make it back to bed before I had to pass water again. I lay on the bed liner, wetting myself, the couche-culottes nearing capacity. Laying in my warm wet couche-culottes, I drifted off to asleep — I guess the tea did have a tranquilizing effect.

I woke when Mimi entered the room. She was carrying a white plastic trash bag, the kind that we used for the kitchen refuse bin. She was still dressed in her robe and foundations.

"Let‘s see how you did, Evelyn" she said brightly. She turned back the covers and inspected me.

"Tsk, tsk; you‘ve had a bit of leakage" she said. I looked down and saw a wet streak at the hems of the pantie legs. I was surprised there wasn‘t more.

I rose gingerly. She cautioned me to be careful not to sit on the bed and retrieved a bath towel and laid it across my path over the bed. Awkwardly, I made my way out of bed and stood as she continued her inspection.

"What do you think?" she asked me.

"Well, given how much water I had to pass, I‘m really surprised I‘m not completely soaked" I said softly. But as I stood there, the stain of wetness grew; gravity was causing leakage.

"Into the bathroom with you" said Mimi. I heard her open my bureau drawer behind me. She came into the bathroom carrying my robe, the plastic bag, and a fresh pair of terrycloth panties, without the pad. She opened the plastic bag and withdrew a pair of plastic gloves, the kind used in restaurants, as well as another plastic bag. I had no idea where she got the gloves. She told me to put them on, then remove my soiled couche-culottes and put them in the plastic bag, wash myself, then slip into the fresh terrycloth panties. She then left me alone. I donned the gloves and gingerly removed the soaking wet couche-culottes and put them into the plastic bag. I then washed my pelvis and legs with a washcloth and drew on the dry terrycloth panties — they felt really nice. I thought I‘d be able to smell the soaked terrycloth panties when I removed them, but there was only a faint odor, which was not unpleasant. I again suspected the tea had something to do with it.

A few minutes later, I came out of the bathroom. Mimi wanted to hold the plastic bag to feel its weight.

"Yes, I‘d say you did a thorough job of wetting yourself" she said with a giggle, hefting the plastic bag. Then she instructed me to put on the gloves again and remove the absorbent pad from its terrycloth cover and put it the other plastic bag, and then rinse everything else out. "Then we‘ll put them in the washing machine" she added at the end.

After completing these tasks, I donned the cotton pajama bottoms and together, Mimi and I went through my laundry hamper and lingerie drawers and selected things that needed washing. We left out my white crepe de chine things because Mimi thought I‘d need them that evening. I followed her downstairs to the laundry room and we put the couche-culottes into the washer. "You want these to be nice and soft next to your skin" she said as she added fabric softener to the wash. She then showed me how to hand wash my brassieres, garter belts, and stockings. We put these on the drying rack. All my other things could be placed in lingerie bags and machine washed on the gentlest setting. Mimi said she‘d take care of them once the couche-culottes had finished.

She then made a suggestion for the rest of the afternoon and evening; First, I should bathe and apply lots of lotion and powder to my pelvis and derriá¨re to prevent the possibility of a rash. Then she wanted to see me dressed in the midnight blue silk faille gown that mother had bought me long ago. We‘d have dinner and then she would show me how to properly iron my lingerie.

I had a couple of hours to bathe and dress. I donned white crepe de chine foundations, the delightful new silk and lace tulip panties from Auntie, the pair of high-cut white briefs, the crepe de chine chemise, and dance pantie, and new blue silk stockings. I slipped into the matching crepe de chine long robe and sat at vanity and did my hair in a fetching bun. I carried the blue of the silk faille skirt and the lapis to my eyeshadow and did my lips in a reddish purple. I felt lightheaded when I drew on the petticoat and then stepped into the gown. I finished the ensemble with mother‘s lapis and gold jewelry.

I came downstairs to find Mimi dressed in her long black rayon skirt with the self-tie sash, her white rayon lace band collar blouse, sans neck scarf, and her black pumps. She still had on her makeup from earlier in the day.

"The mail came dear — there are some pictures" she said, handing me the envelope. I knew immediately what they were — the pictures my mother had taken of me.

"Go ahead and open it dear — I know what they‘re the pictures you mommy took and I‘d like to see them" she said kindly. "Come, let‘s sit down together."

I really didn‘t want to share them with her, but she was more or less insisting. We sat and I opened the package. It was chilling to see the photographs — could that possibly be me? There I was, sitting so demurely on the couch, my knees together and my hands folded in my lap, looking ever so much like a wealthy and kept young lady in the St. John‘s knit. Then there were the poses by the piano and the dinner table.

Mimi stroked my hair as I went through the photographs. "See, darling? She how pretty you are? No wonder your mommy wants you to dress as a girl." I was stunned, my mouth hung open. I couldn‘t say a word. I couldn‘t believe how pretty I was, how much I looked like a girl and not like a boy dressed up as one. We went through the stack a couple of times, Mimi commenting on each one. Most of the photographs were bad — it was a cheap camera and the lighting wasn‘t great, but there was a really good one of me standing at the dinner table with the candelabra and chandelier behind me. Mimi said we simply had to put the photograph in a frame. She left the couch to find one — we had some empty frames in a cabinet. She found one and put the photograph in. "I want to put this in your mommy‘s room" she said, taking it away and up the stairs.

She had prepared a nice dinner and we ate in the formal dining room on our best china. She told me during dinner that she was thinking of getting a digital camera. We talked about the advantages and she noted that she liked the privacy of not having to send film to be developed. She suggested that maybe I could do some research on the latest and best cameras for her, and I readily agreed.

Then she had me iron my blue silk surah set and the brassieres and garter belts I had washed. She instructed me to iron them with a warm iron while the things were still a little damp, and turned inside out. I knew how to iron clothes, but she showed me a couple of tricks I didn‘t know. The other things that needed washing would wait until later so that they didn‘t dry completely before we had a chance to iron them.

When I had finished ironing, we both went upstairs carrying the laundry. Mimi had produced a container of baby powder from her room and brought it along. She helped me out of the bolero jacket and unzipped me, then had me finish undressing behind the dressing screen then slipping into my terrycloth robe. I went to the bathroom and began my nightly routine of removing my makeup and applying moisturizing lotion, paying particular attention to my pelvis and derriá¨re.

When I exited the bathroom, I saw that Mimi had brought one of the cream silk tuffets from mother‘s room and set it by the vanity chair. I went behind the dressing screen and found the freshly laundered blue silk surah robe, chemise, and tap panties waiting for me, along with the white satin bustier and white cotton stockings she had me wear at night. And, of course, the couche-culottes; white plastic pantie briefs this time. The container of baby powder was next to the couche-culottes. Mimi spoke from the other side of the dressing screen, telling me I should apply the baby powder to the inside of the terrycloth panties before putting them on, then applying more after I had drawn them on. "It really helps prevent rashes and other problems" she added.

After dressing, I sat at my vanity, my robe a little loose. Mimi sat behind me on the tuffet and brushed my hair. The tuffet was taller than my slipper chair and allowed Mimi to comfortably brush my hair. Sitting on the tuffet, she was a head taller than me and we could see each other easily in the vanity mirror.

"Did you have a nice day today, sweetheart?" she asked as she began to draw the brush slowly through my hair.

"Oh yes, Mimi; it was wonderful" I replied softly and truthfully.

"Oh good; I had a nice day too. It was fun for me to dress up in my eveningwear. And it gave me a chance to wear my, um, special underthings. I enjoyed it. And tell me… our little test of your couche-culottes went well, didn‘t it?"

"Uh huh."

"I‘m glad to know that if you wet yourself tonight, you won‘t sully the lovely things you‘re wearing, or wet the bed, either. Aren‘t you glad to know that, too, dear?"

"Yes, Mimi, I am glad" I lisped.

She finished brushing and pulled my hair back into a ponytail, using an elastic band. She turned down my bed before leaving, saying "I think I‘ll turn in myself and do a little reading…" adding, with a wink "I‘m in the middle of a really good ’bodice-ripper‘." With a kiss on my forehead, she left.

I sat at the vanity for several minutes in disbelief of the day and how Mimi, in one day, had completely wrapped me around her finger and subdued me, mostly by having me wet myself, but also with two delightful dressings.

I wasn‘t tired and I had lots of time to orchestrate a bedtime creaming. But I had a decision to make — I so wanted to experience again the pleasure I had that afternoon, but there was no way I could do so without Mimi knowing. But I just couldn‘t deny myself. There was only one recourse — go ahead with the experience and then tell Mimi in the morning that I had wet myself while sleeping, admitting that I was a bed wetter.

I went to the bathroom and drank a big glass of water (I wasn‘t worried about over-wetting myself; I could always use the toilet before the saturation point was reached). Then I took a bottle of my basic moisturizing lotion, opened the waist of my couche-culottes, and squeezed a good bit of the lotion all about my daintie. I turned on the fan and partook, elevating my senses. I turned on some soft romantic music and sat back down at the vanity. As the hashish rush came to me, I let down my hair and applied some lipstick, waiting for the glass of water I had drank to take effect, thinking about Mimi‘s cosseting of me and just how different my holiday was turning out to be than what I had planned. I practiced what I would say to Mimi the next morning.

I felt flush, tingling as my wetting neared. Sitting on the edge of my seat at my vanity and fondling the lace of my robe, the straps of my camisole, and my long hair, I gasped "Oh Evelyn" and began to pass water, reveling in the same sensations I had felt that afternoon. But unlike that afternoon, my couche-culottes easily held my water. Now warm and moist, I dove into a long, slow, luscious pillow-ride. I tried to keep my cries and yips of pleasure quiet, not wanting Mimi to hear me as she read her ’bodice-ripper‘. The house was still and quiet — even though I had music softly playing, she might hear my louder cries if she was listening. The toe-tingler arrived and I creamed in my warm moist couche-culottes.

I lay in bed, deeply satisfied, and wetted myself again. I had a blissful sleep full of dreams of lace and angora.

Thursday

I awoke early and used the toilet, but drew the moist couche-culottes back on, then went back to sleep and woke when Mimi entered an hour or so later. Today was her day to work at the art gallery, and she was dressed for work in her blue pleated skirt and black twinset.

After our greetings, I sat up in bed. I had been practicing for the moment. Fingering the shoulder strap of my chemise, my head bowed, I said with a soft lisp "Mimi? I… I think I wet myself last night."

"Oh, Evelyn…" she said in a concerned voice. She sat next to me on the bed and gently stroked my back and in a soft reassuring tone, said "It‘s alright Evelyn. I thought it would happen. Once your subconscious realized that you could safely wet your couche-culottes and not your bed and things, it let go. Don‘t be disappointed, dear. Being a bed-wetter is just something you‘ll have to accept and deal with."

Of course I wasn‘t really a bed-wetter; I had consciously wet myself. But I couldn‘t tell her that; I just let her think that I was. I didn‘t know how to respond.

"Are your panties wet?" she asked, rubbing my back gently.

"I don‘t think so."

"We should look." I was sitting up, my legs folded beneath me, the bedcover draped over my legs and hiding my panties. Mimi removed the bed covers and instructed me to sit up on my knees and lift the hem of the chemise. She looked behind me first, saying "Your panties look dry, dear… let me check." I didn‘t expect her to do what she did — she felt my stocking suspenders and fingered the fabric at the bottom hems of my panties. "No… you‘re dry back here" she declared softly. Then she repositioned herself to look at the front of my panties and again felt the stocking suspenders and my panties. "It seems that the couche-culottes held your water, Evelyn" was her conclusion.

I sat back down and folded my legs and she pulled the bed covers back over my legs. She began to gently rub my back again and after a few moments, she said in a near whisper: "Now don‘t be too harsh on yourself dear. You‘re very delicate and frail, you know, and bedwetting is to be expected. It‘s alright; it just means you‘ll have to wear couche-culottes at bedtime."

"Yes, Mimi" I said, trying to sound a little tearful, blinking my eyes so that they moistened.

"There, there, sweetheart; I know you‘re feeling ashamed right now… and, how shall I say it? …inadequate."

Her words stung me a bit. Yes, I should feel ashamed, I thought. I was inadequate. I bit my lower lip and sniffed back my tears, and nodded my head slightly, whispering "uh-huh."

"Oh, you poor thing you… I‘m sorry. I shouldn‘t have said that. You‘ve got so many emotional issues you‘re dealing with, dear… I shouldn‘t be adding more. But I do think that dressing up in ladies things helps you to alleviate your feelings of shame and inadequacy doesn‘t it? Those feelings disappear when you dress up as a pretty young lady, don‘t they?"

"Yesss…" I lisped in reply. Her meaning was clear to me — I was an insufficient and inadequate boy, much more suited to being a young lady.

"So that‘s just what we‘ll do, dear; keep you dressed as a fine young lady… and make sure you wear your couche-culottes at bedtime, right?" she asked softly.

"Yes, Mimi" I sniffed. A moment later, I added: "Thank you, Mimi."

"Now…" she said cheerfully, sitting upright, "…are you too wet to help me change the sheets on your bed? Or do you need to change now? Because I‘d like to do that before I leave. Then you can go downstairs and take care of your wet things, just like we did yesterday."

"I‘m okay, Mimi. I‘m not very wet. " I replied.

Together we changed the sheets and pillowcases, removing the petal pink satin bed linens and dressing the bed in the fine Egyptian cotton sheets and pillowcases. Mimi fluffed and arranged all the pillows, leaving the heart shaped boudoir pillow for last.

I followed her downstairs carrying the bed linens and a dry pair of terrycloth panties. Looking outside, I could see it was again a raw and blustery day; a day to stay warm and cozy inside. I put the bed linens washing machine. As I did so, Mimi made breakfast for me, telling me to come and eat before it got cold. I didn‘t have a chance to change out of the couche-culottes, and Mimi seemed to forget that I needed to. So I sat down and began to eat.

"I‘ve already eaten, Evelyn, and I need to get going in a few minutes. I think I might go home after work and catch up on my mail and messages. Just in case I don‘t make it back in time, please put the pot roast in the oven" giving me further instructions.

"You will be alright without me, won‘t you?"

"Of course, Mimi."

She went to her room and came back out as I finished breakfast. She had added a gold necklace and a scarf and was carrying her coat and purse which she put on a chair in the hallway.

"Come sit with me for a moment, Evelyn" she said, motioning me to the couch in the formal living room. I sat, gathering my robe around me. She sat close, facing me. She smelled nice, having put on perfume. My morning coffee was having an effect, and I would soon be in need of a toilet.

"Are you sure you‘ll be alright by yourself today?" she asked with concern.

"Yes, Mimi, I‘ll be just fine" I replied softly.

"I can probably find someone to watch the gallery for me and stay with you if you want."

"No, Mimi. Honest, I‘ll be fine."

"It‘s just that… well, I feel bad about the things I said to you this morning. You know… about being… delicate and inadequate and all that. I just want to make sure that you don‘t use my comments as an excuse not to dress up today; I think it‘s important that you do dress up in ladies things, especially today. I think it will calm your emotions, don‘t you? Promise me you will?"

As she said these things to me, I passed a little bit of water — I was beginning to discover that I could just relax and trust the couche-culottes. It was quite a memorable little moment — she reminding me how delicate and inadequate I was as I wet myself, trying to hide that I was passing water. What more evidence was needed that I was delicate and inadequate than to be sitting on the couch, dressed in a silk surah robe, chemise, bustier, tap panties, stockings, and stiletto-heeled boudoir slippers, while wetting myself?

"Yes, Mimi. I‘ll wear a dress today, I promise" I lisped,

"Oh, good, I feel better now. I think maybe you should wear some of your mommy‘s things today. After all, she has such pretty dresses and things, and I know she would be happy to have you wear them."

What an odd suggestion, I thought, since I had my own wardrobe. But I didn‘t comment on it, simply replying "Okay, Mimi."

She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek and rose to leave. Her last words were "Be sure to wear your couche-culottes when you‘re in bed."

I mulled over our conversation as I sat passing a weak little stream of water. I rose and stood in front of the mirror and slowly parted my robe as a quiver went through me. I relaxed and let it flow. In my stillness, I thought about my day. I would first have to deal with my couche-culottes, but then it would be up to my boudoir to bathe and dress. Yes, perhaps I should wear some of my mother‘s things. I had only one chore for the day; to attend to the laundry and ironing.

My reverie was broken as I saw, reflected in the mirror, an express package van coming up the driveway. I ducked out of site, peeping through the organza curtain as the truck stopped and the driver stepped out. He retrieved a fairly large and long cardboard box from the back of the truck and carried it to the front door. All I could think about was whether he would require my signature — there was no way I was going to open the door in my current state, all dressed in silk surah and wet beneath. But he set the package down, rang the doorbell (causing me to jump, even though I was expecting it), then turned and left.

As soon as the van was out of sight I opened the door and brought the package inside. It wasn‘t as heavy as it looked. It was from Auntie and was addressed to me. I went to the kitchen, retrieved a knife, and cut the box open. Breathlessly, I parted the top of the box… could it be? The first thing I saw was white ribbed cotton blend fabric — it looked like a camisole. I slid my hand down between the contents and the side of the box — all I could feel was fabric. Auntie had sent more clothes! What delicacies awaited me inside? If it was anything like her last package, I was in for a wonderful day! I immediately decided I would wait to unpack the contents; I‘d take the box to my room and unpack it, perhaps after bathing, perhaps after elevating my senses.

I cleaned myself up in the downstairs bathroom, rinsing out the wet terrycloth panties and pad cover, disposing of the pad, and donning the dry pair of thick terrycloth panties. Then I went upstairs with the box, set it on the loveseat, and began my morning bathing.

I started with a shower, washing my hair and using my favorite conditioner. After towel drying my hair, I dried it nearly dry with the hair dryer, set it in warm curlers, put a plastic cap over it, and drew a bath with scented bubble bath. I bathed while thumbing through a new clothing catalog, admiring the dresses and the models. After bathing, I applied my various lotions and creams and scented dusting powder, then sat at my vanity in my terry bathrobe and applied my base makeup, waiting to see what colors I‘d be wearing before applying highlights. I retrieved some candles from around the house and set them up in the boudoir. I put together a tray of cheese and crackers and a bit of sherry and brought them to my boudoir. After drawing the curtains and switching on the tasseled lamps my boudoir took on a most romantic glow. I put my favorite classical music on the stereo.

As Mimi had suggested, I wore something of my mother‘s — her beautiful and diaphanous pink chiffon robe and nightgown. Then, finally, I went and heightened my senses with my hashish, then opened the package from Auntie.

On top of the white ribbed cotton was an envelope from Auntie addressed to me. Inside were an unlabeled CD and a note:

My dearest Evelyn:

I know you said you didn‘t want these, but Suzanne and I came across these the other day and thought you might have changed your mind. Suzanne and I are up north at a retreat and can‘t be reached. I‘ll call you next week.

Much love,

Aunt Beverley

PS: You are so cute and lovely in these pictures!

I knew the CD contained the pictures they took of me in the Susan Lane bridal gown and the powder blue georgette dinner dress. There would be time to peruse them later.

Beneath the note was a white ribbed cotton camisole and roomy pajama bottom, the cotton soft and warm, almost like chenille. The camisole was adorned with white machine lace, as was the hem of the pajama bottom. At first, I was a little disappointed — I was anticipating something very feminine. But I realized that I needed something practical, and the set certainly was.

Beneath the cotton set was another handwritten note on pretty pink stationary.

My dearest Evelyn:

I thought you might like this poet‘s blouse. It came into the shop and I immediately thought of you -- and how you like to write poetry. I thought you‘d like having a real honest-to-goodness poet‘s blouse to dress in when the muse strikes. If not, then your mother might like it for her wardrobe — it would go great with the taffeta skirt and princess petticoat that I‘m also sending. I‘m including some very nice vintage lingerie that we recently acquired and a pretty dress for autumn. Oh — and a really cute sailor‘s dress.

Much love,

Aunt Beverly

Beneath the note was a folded piece of beautiful antique white fabric.

"Oh my" I whispered, in between titches. Out came the poet‘s blouse. It was made of exquisite synthetic georgette, lightweight with a sensuous fluid drape. There were three tiers of ruffled Chantilly lace on the deep shawl-like neckline and cuffs. At the joining of the neckline was a large loosely tied bow, its streamers embellished with lace. Each tier of the sleeve cuffs was also decorated with a thin ribbon tied in a bow. The sleeves were full, billowy, and extra long. It appeared as if the sleeve cuffs would cover most of my hand. Each sleeve had a thin panel of lace running down its length with pleats on either side. The blouse itself was long — almost chemise length. The georgette was sheer and would show whatever lacy camisole I chose to wear beneath. "Oh Auntie…" I whispered.

I lay the blouse on the bed and went back to the box. The next item was a chemise made of the same georgette as the blouse and profusely decorated with the same lace — a deep chevron from the breasts to the midriff, and four inches of lace at the hem. The label was the same as the blouse — this was a matched set. The cut of the chemise was such that much of the lace of its bodice was exposed by the neckline of the blouse. I placed the chemise next to the blouse and stepped back.

Such heirloom treasures! The blouse was so utterly feminine. And the matching chemise! This was no androgynous poet‘s blouse, oh, not at all. "…when the muse strikes…" indeed, I thought.

Back to the box I went. The next little treasures were a pair of fingerless crocheted gloves in antique white, a long rectangular lace scarf, and a wide black velvet neck choker with a black and white cameo of the profile of a young lady, her hair done up,

Then an over-the-knee length black taffeta circle skirt, full six gore, black, with a shimmering moiré pattern weave, with a wide black satin sash that buckled in the back with a big black satin bow and a foot or more of the sash streaming beneath the bow. Then another treasure that made me cry with delight — a three layer white princess petticoat meant to pouf out the taffeta skirt. The middle layer was made of yards of white tulle netting, sandwiched between two layers of white organza. The inner and outer layers were trimmed with three inches of scalloped accordion-pleated lace. The waistline of the petticoat had two drawstrings about two inches apart, and I figured out that they were to allow for two different lengths. If the upper one was used, the petticoat would show past the hem of the skirt. If the lower drawstring was tied at the waist (and the remaining fabric above folded down), the petticoat wouldn‘t show. These were placed gently on the bed next to the blouse and chemise.

A shoebox was next. Inside was a pair of three inch stiletto heeled open-toed pumps. They were black and of basically the same taffeta fabric as the skirt, with a black satin bow at the instep.

Next in the box was a white sailor‘s blouse in a lightweight synthetic georgette crepe. It was such a classic — the V-neck and navy blue scarf, the little caplet, trimmed with navy blue, the three-quarter sleeves also trimmed with blue, and a blue-trimmed elastic waistband. And then two skirts, one navy blue and the other white, both intermission length and pleated, made of the same georgette crepe. Beneath the sailor‘s dress was another box containing a white straw hat, the brim turned up, the small crown decorated with a navy blue band that tied in the back with a bow with long trailing ends.

"Oh…" I gasped, laying the ensemble on the chair.

Then another treasure — a velvet burn-out wrap dress in a deep burgundy with an autumn leaf motif. This I hung on the closet door. It was gorgeous — a charming day-to-dinner dress for the autumn season, exuding well-heeled casual elegance.

More treasures followed — a blush peach negligee, the bodice all lace and the asymmetrical hem a foot of delicate lace, along with a matching lace jacket. Finally, there was three pair of delicious high-cut panties, all the same except for their pastel color, all in a shimmering jacquard satin, trimmed with white lace, and several pair of seamed nylon stockings, including ones in black that I‘d wear with the new ensembles.

There was no doubt — I‘d be dressing in the poet‘s blouse and taffeta skirt ensemble. I assembled the rest of the dressing: the Jane Woolrich white crepe de chine foundations and dance pantie, tulip flutter panties, the high-cut panties that I had just received, and a pair of lacy briefs. Black seamed stockings completed the underdressing — oh how I wished I had garters. I added the big black satin hair bow of my mother‘s and the black velvet choker with the black and white cameo. I wasn‘t sure I‘d wear the cameo — the blouse really didn‘t need anything. The set of pearls would be fine. I might use the lace scarf as a hair band rather than the hail bow. I borrowed a gold ankle bracelet with a drop of pearls at the clasp from mother‘s things.

I turned the lights up to complete my makeup. Since the ensemble was pure black and white, I‘d let my makeup provide color — a porcelain geisha look, with full pouty lips in deep red. After completing my makeup, I lit the candles and turned all the lights off. I would dress in soft candlelight. After dressing, I‘d heighten my senses a bit more and turn the lights on, then present myself to the dressing mirrors. I would be quite a moment.

I disrobed, patted a bit more body powder, and donned the fingerless lace gloves that Auntie had sent. I sat at the dressing table and carefully donned my freshly laundered foundations and new stockings, finishing that phase of dressing with sprays of perfume from my crystal atomizer bottle with its tasseled bulb. I was ready for the petticoat and chemise. I almost swooned when I donned the princess petticoat — the rustle of the organza and tulle thrilled me to my very core; a sissy in a princess petticoat.

More enchantments followed; the chemise and blouse. I first donned a fine mesh hood of mothers meant to be worn when drawing a garment over one‘s head. It prevented my makeup from being smudged as well as preventing makeup from getting on the blouse. I paused to smooth out the chemise, blouse, and petticoat. I decided to wear the lace scarf as a head-band rather than the black hair bow, and after getting it just right, I turned my attention to the taffeta skirt. The rustle of the skirt sent shivers through me. It took a bit of time to dress in it, as I had to draw it over the voluminous petticoat. I had difficulties; the skirt waist, even unzipped, just wasn‘t large enough to take the entire petticoat hem, and required several false starts drawing it on. But I finally managed to draw it on, zip it, and fasten the sash with the bow. Then finally, I slipped into the new heels. I could see myself in the mirrors, but just barely. The three candles I had lit only gave enough light to dress myself.

With my dressing done, I sat back down at my vanity, lit some candles so that I could see myself better in the mirror, and then took even more hashish; I was so high; I probably partook too much, as thoughts of utter shame and humiliation swept over me.

I took stock of myself. Here I was; a fragile little wisp of a boy, with fine delicate features and clear creamy alabaster skin. My long brunette hair with its beautiful natural wave, my vivid blue eyes with long eyelashes — I was just so very fetching — the only child of a very wealthy family, spoiled, living in a manor, crossdressed by my mother, pampered and cosseted and crossdressed by my French nanny who thought me delicate and inadequate. And here, in the deliciously feminine bedroom that mother decorated for me, sitting at the antique dressing table, my face painted, my lips deep red, my cheeks blushed, sipping sherry from a crystal flute, soft romantic classical music on the stereo, wearing the finest dainty underthings that my Auntie sent me, a splendid chemise, an exquisite blouse, an utterly feminine taffeta skirt and princess petticoat, expensive jewelry, and flirtatious high heels. My mother wanted a daughter. My Auntie, I thought, was lovingly providing succor to her delicate, frail, and misunderstood nephew. My handsome French nanny was keeping me dressed while my mother was away, subduing and controlling me with her insistence that I wear couche-culottes because of my bedwetting. I should have felt shame and humiliation; what an unsuitable boy I was! But, as Mimi had said, I made a fine young lady. I gazed at my reflection in the mirror, fondling my hair and the lace of the exquisite blouse with my lace gloved hands, reaching deep into my thoughts. I felt so fetching, so delicate, and so utterly feminine. The emotions that were rushing into me and consuming me blended together into a pure sensual state; every one of my senses was charged.

I stood slowly, not wanting to faint from the rush of the hashish. I was almost panting, my padded breasts rising and falling beneath the blouse. I turned on the table lamps and presented myself to the mirrors.

Oh my.

I could barely breathe, it seemed. I turned slowly about and posed.

I felt the rustle of the skirt and petticoat — taffeta, organza, and tulle, the lace of the petticoat showing two inches below the skirt. I was building up to the moment of purest pleasure and joy. In my nest of exquisite femininity, the nest that mother had made for me, I stood at the mirrors, and then sat in the chair, my stocking‘d legs together, angled to the side, revealing the petticoat. I was titching loudly, crying out, and saying shameful things as I made slight movements in the chair that sent waves of bliss crashing over me. The moment came when I crossed my legs, gathering folds of taffeta, organza, and tulle in my lap. Nothing interfered with the moment — no worries of anyone hearing me, no thoughts of shame — just a loud moaning cry of "Oh Evelyn!" as my contractions intensified and the grand mal orgasm shook me.

I sat for the longest time, waiting for my daintie to stop quivering and relax. I had made sure my panties were well-protected, so I wasn‘t too worried about sullying them, although the outburst I had just experienced would probably require some of my panties to be laundered.

I began to undress — I had other things to try on, and besides, the poet‘s blouse and taffeta skirt was a dressing to reserve for a special occasion. After removing my various panties, I donned a pair of the thick couche-culottes terrycloth panties in order to absorb my post-creaming; another good use for the terrycloth panties.

I tried on the velvet burn-out dress; a perfect day-to-dinner dress, not too formal but classy. From my mother‘s things, I found a pair of leather burgundy kitten-heeled pumps and a matching over-the-shoulder purse, perfect accessories for the ensemble.

Then I tried the sailor‘s dress, first changing into the blue negligee and matching foundations with blue stockings. The bodice of the blue with white lace negligee showed from beneath the white georgette crepe of the blouse, and the movement of the pleats on the skirt was so very feminine and graceful. But it was the straw hat with its blue ribbon trim that really defined the ensemble. It gave it that vintage little girl look. Pearls were just the right touch, adding a bit of a grown-up look to the ensemble. The skirt was the same length as the negligee, which meant that the white lace at the hems of the negligee would occasionally show when I moved or sat with my legs crossed. I wondered what would be revealed by the skirt if I went without the negligee, so I undressed and replaced the negligee with the chemise and donned the white skirt. Now the white lace of my tap panties and chemise showed beneath the semi-translucent white georgette of the skirt. "Oh my" I thought to myself, "…one simply must wear a petticoat with this skirt, or one‘s panties will show."

My trance was broken by the phone ringing. The caller ID said "international" — it had to be my mother. I sat down at my vanity and answered. As I expected, it was her.

After catching up about her trip, there was a pause in the conversation. Then mother asked "Now, tell me about what you‘ve been doing, sweetheart."

"Oh, nothing much… just school and stuff" I replied, knowing that she was waiting to hear more.

"Dear? I know you got the note I left you and you know I‘ve talked to Mimi. I wanted to talk about your dressing up as a girl. You have been dressing up, haven‘t you?" she asked coyly.

"Uh huh" was all I could think of to say.

"Well? How are you doing? Are you having fun? Mimi said she was going to try and have you dress up every day. Have you?"

It was no use trying to gloss it over; the time for denial was far past. I let myself have a silent sigh, then in a perkier voice replied: "Yes, mommy. I‘ve dressed up every day this week — Mimi‘s been really helpful and we‘ve both had fun." I paused for just a moment and added: "I… I like it, mommy."

"Oh, that‘s wonderful darling, just wonderful. So you and Mimi are having fun? I‘m so glad. She‘s such a wonderful person, dear, and I‘m so delighted you‘re getting to know her better. She‘s been encouraging me all along to help you emerge, to recognize the difficulties you face and, I guess, my own inhibitions. She really knows what‘s best for you, best for both of us, actually. So, tell me…" she finished, changing the subject slightly, "…do you like your new room?"

"Yes, mommy; it‘s really nice… beautiful. I like it a lot." My response was absent-minded for I was thinking about what she had said about Mimi — there was much more to her and mother than met the eye.

"Where are you now, dear? Are you dressed?" she asked.

"Oh, I‘m in the study, just doing my homework" I lied — I wasn‘t going to tell her I was in my boudoir primping. I was now standing at the cheval mirror, holding my skirt out with one hand and holding the phone in the other. I answered her second question, again lying: "I‘m wearing that nice turtleneck sweater you bought me and the gray skirt." I didn‘t want to tell her how I was really dressed since I‘d have to tell her all about the package Auntie had sent. No mention of Auntie had been made, and I wasn‘t going to bring it up unless she did.

"I bet you look beautiful. Speaking of sweaters, dear, that reminds me: I had a chance to browse through the most wonderful little shopping district today — a little alleyway actually" she said with enthusiasm. "It has all these little shops and boutiques world famous for their sweaters and furs — beautiful things in wool and cashmere with some angora and mohair too, lots of different designers and styles… really classy things. I saw this beautiful sweater dress in one of the windows, along with skirts and sweaters and such. It‘s very upscale and expensive, but quality is worth it. I‘m going back tomorrow afternoon and I want to buy us some things — they can ship anywhere in the world."

"Oh… that sounds wonderful mommy. I‘d like a nice sweater dress. It‘s getting cold here."

"Then a nice sweater dress you shall have, dear. How about some skirts and sweaters, too? I saw this really cute pleated tartan skirt and a jumper dress that I want to get you, along with some cashmere tops."

"Wow, that would be really nice, mommy" I replied.

"This will be exciting, shopping for you" she added. Her voice softened and in a conspiratorial tone, she said "And when I get back, maybe you can wear them when we go shopping together."

"Uhh… okay, mommy…" I stammered.

She said a few things about her itinerary and then said our goodbyes.

After I hung up, I stood at the cheval mirror, recalling the conversation as I twirled my hair with my fingers. I thought about the relationship between Mimi and mother. It was Mimi who had convinced mother to ’let me emerge‘. It sounded like mother had reservations, but Mimi persuaded her otherwise, converted her, and convinced her that I was more suited to be her daughter. I dallied on the part about how she was going out shopping for me and buying some very nice sweaters and skirts and dresses, and how I might wear them when she returned home and took me shopping. And then, finally, how Mimi knew what was "best" for me. Was having me wear couche-culottes really "best" for me?

There seemed to be no escape from being crossdressed, even if I wanted to; not from mother, certainly not from Mimi, or probably even Auntie. They were turning me into a girl, or something like it — I wasn‘t sure. I felt smothered. But I could worry about all that later; for now, I felt warm and safe and secure.

Musing over these thoughts, I undressed from the sailor‘s dress, donned the white fox stole, and went to my mother‘s room. After all, Mimi had suggested I wear some of her things. I put on my mother‘s diamonds, including the tiara, and slipped into a pair of her blue four inch heeled sling-back pumps. From her scarf drawer, I selected a blue floral pattern silk scarf that could be scarified like the beige chiffon scarf. Back in boudoir, I laid the mink throw across the bed, turned the dressing screen around so that I could watch myself in its mirrors, and had an exquisitely slow pillow ride in full view of all the mirrors, the diamonds sparkling occasionally, my white fox stole slipping from my shoulders, thankful that the house was empty and the neighbors were far away for my cries were rather shrill and piercing.

It was mid-afternoon when I came downstairs dressed in the white ribbed cotton camisole and pajamas, overlaid with my slate blue silk and cashmere robe. I liked the set, soft, warm, and feminine, but practical at the same time. I was glad Auntie had sent it.

I had laundering and ironing to do and I set up the ironing board in front of the television. When I got to a stopping point, I took the CD that Auntie had sent and sat at the computer in our study, reminiscing about that unusual and wonderful day, amazed at the young beauty in the Susan Lane bridal gown staring back at me — could that possibly be me?

I was doing some research on digital cameras when I saw a car pull up into our driveway. It wasn‘t Mimi, so I moved away from the desk and positioned myself by the study window, hidden by the drapes, and peeked through the little gap between the curtain and the wall. The car stopped and out stepped Ms. Hunter.

She was nicely dressed in a burgundy red wool pencil skirt, a tight-fitting white turtleneck sweater, high-heeled red pumps, a red hair bow, and a white wool trench coat with a pretty red scarf with an autumn leaf motif beneath the lapels. I could see that she was wearing makeup and her lips were glossed in red. She was most definitely not dressed for school (she would have driven the boys in her classes insane!). She was all done up as if going out on a date or something. Standing behind the curtain, I watched as she approached the door; she walked with small graceful swishing steps. She rang the doorbell and I waited, peeping through the window. She rang again, went back to her car, sat down and wrote a note, then came back to the door carrying a manila folder with the note clipped to the outside and set it outside the door.

When the coast was clear, I retrieved the folder. Inside was a handout of study questions for an upcoming test in her class, as well as a list of readings for my government class. Then there was her note:

Dear Evelyn:

I know you‘ve been ill and I just came by to see how you are, knowing that you‘re by yourself. Here are some class notes from this week. Let me know if you have any questions — I‘d be glad to tutor you.

Sincerely; Vanessa

At the bottom of the note was her phone number.

I stared at the note — was she was making a pass at me? What if I had answered the door (as a boy) and she came in? Had she dressed up because she thought she might get to ’tutor‘ me today? (Of all the students at school, I was the one in least need of tutoring.) There was no way I would call her, of course, not with Mimi around, not with their agendas.

I returned to my laundering. It was time to put the pot roast in the oven. Mimi called to remind me and said she‘d be returning around six thirty. That gave me enough time to finish the laundry, dress for dinner, and set the table.

I had to decide on a dinner dress. My first thought was the velvet burn-out dress Auntie had just sent. But I decided against it, opting to wear something of my mother‘s as Mimi had suggested. Mother‘s conversation about buying me a sweater dress got me thinking about the oatmeal colored ribbed angora and lambswool sweater dress that my mother had put in the bureau; V-neck, with mauve trim at the neck, cuffs, and hems, with a long matching mauve waist sash.

After a sponge bath, I removed the more dramatic makeup I had put on earlier and powdered myself. For foundations, I wore the side-zipper all-in-one girdle — the dress was tight fitting and the girdle would lift my derriá¨re and flatten my tummy. My stockings were white silk. For daywear, I chose the camisole, pettislip, and dance pantie set in lingerie pink with ivory Venetian point lace trim and embroidery. I borrowed some my mother‘s artisan jewelry — a necklace with big beads made of faux ivory, with a matching bracelet and disk earrings. I added some bangle bracelets of mauve and ivory Bakelite. The pair of pink and cream two-toned pumps rounded out the ensemble.

By the time Mimi arrived, I had the table set for us. She greeted me warmly and asked how my day went. She had me do a few turns for her and remarked "My, Evelyn, but you have such a nice figure. Sure, you could use a little more padding around your hips, but honestly, I‘m surprised."

During dinner, she brought up the fact that the cleaning service was coming over the next day, around nine-thirty. Their usual time was Tuesday afternoon when I was at the library, but they had to reschedule. Mimi said she‘d have to be at the house to let them in and give them a few instructions. She said they would be in my room to vacuum, clean the bathroom, polish the wood and mirrors and that I would have to ’tidy up‘ before they came. Then she suggested that we should go for a drive in the country. The fall colors were just past their peak, she observed, and she wanted to visit a dairy she knew that made good cheese (her French background meant she was always on the hunt for good cheese) and had a delicatessen that sold all sorts of good cheeses, breads, and meats, made great sandwiches, and had a nice picnic area out back. The weather was supposed to be sunnier and warmer and we could have a picnic lunch — and we would probably have the place to ourselves.

"Oh, and Evelyn? I mean for you to go with me as a girl, just in case you weren‘t clear on that."

"Uhhh…" my head spun. The only other time I had gone out (except for the brief drive home on Tuesday night) was with Auntie and Suzanne, and that was back in San Francisco where, as Auntie had said, no one would recognize me. This was entirely different.

Mimi sensed my hesitation and said "Don‘t worry about being seen, Evelyn. You‘ll be in my car, not your mommy‘s. We‘ll be on the back roads and I‘m a careful driver. You know it‘ll do you good to get out of the house."

I couldn‘t argue with her logic. I felt a chill — I was stepping out again! "I guess you‘re right, Mimi. It would be good to get out of the house. I have been cooped up, haven‘t I?"

"Yes you have, dear. You need to become comfortable going out as a girl. This is a good way to start, don‘t you think?"

"But what about the cleaning ladies?" I asked, suddenly realizing that I would be all dressed up when they arrived.

Mimi pointed out that the last time I met the cleaning service ladies was months ago, and that was only in passing. It would highly improbable that any of them would recognize me as the boy who lived there. "And so what if they do?" she asked firmly. She said she‘d introduce me as mother‘s niece who was staying for a while, which would explain the lived-in guestroom. "You‘ll do just fine, Evelyn. It‘ll be fifteen minutes or between the time I let them in and when we leave. All you have to do is sit in the living room and look pretty."

It was settled; I couldn‘t see any real reason not to go out. Then Mimi asked what I thought I should wear. That reminded me that I had yet to tell her about Auntie‘s package.

"So, your aunt sent you some new dresses and things?" she asked coyly. "My, but you are a lucky lady. As I‘ve said, Evelyn, I don‘t know much about your aunt, but it‘s very obvious that she thinks you should be dressing up. Have you talked to her about it?"

"Not really, Mimi. She sends these things to mommy — they are all things that come into Auntie‘s second-hand store." That was, of course, the ruse. Given the note Auntie had included in the package and all our past history, it was very obvious that Auntie meant the things for me. I wanted to drop the subject so I told her that maybe the velvet burn-out dress would be suitable for our excursion.

"Well, after dinner, you‘ll have to show me everything she sent."

As I began to clear the dishes, Mimi said she needed to relax and was going to take a bath in mother‘s bathroom. She went to her room and reappeared a few minutes later in her black ballet dress and tartan robe, carrying a few bath items. "Let‘s go see what your aunt sent."

It took about a half hour for me to show her everything. She was most impressed. The poet‘s blouse and taffeta skirt were "very special" she said and dropped the suggestion that we should have another dress-up day, just like we did yesterday.

While she took her bath, I did my nighttime routine of applying lotions. I donned my new blush peach negligee and matching lace jacket. And, of course, the usual underthings: the white satin bustier with the white cotton stockings, and the couche-culottes with the pink plastic panties. I applied lots of lotion to my pelvis, derriá¨re, and daintie, quite enjoying myself, then dusted myself and the thick terrycloth panties liberally with baby powder. Knowing that the morning would be a bit hectic getting ready to go out, I wasn‘t going to wet myself that evening, but I still had to wear them because Mimi would check.

Mimi came to say her goodnights, dressed in her black lace over white satin one-piece halter top pantsuit and her blue checked robe. She told me that I looked ’ravishing‘ in the new nightgown. She checked that I was wearing the couche-culottes. I had trouble falling asleep because I was nervous about our excursion and meeting the cleaning crew. But a nice little creaming relaxed me.

Friday

I woke early and had showered and washed my hair and was downstairs making coffee and breakfast when Mimi woke up. She was tickled that I was up so early to get ready. She asked if I had any problems with bedwetting.

"No, Mimi — I did fine last night."

"Really? I would have thought you might have been nervous and that would trigger a bedwetting."

I had already decided on the burgundy velvet burn-out wrap dress for our excursion. I didn‘t have any burgundy lingerie, so I went the pink and gray lace foundations and the muted lingerie pink with ivory Venetian point lace trim camisole, dance pantie, and pettislip. Black stockings seemed best.

I was dressed in my foundations and daywear, my makeup mostly done, when Mimi knocked on my boudoir door an hour before the cleaning ladies were to arrive. She was wearing a tea-length black pleated wool skirt, a claret red cashmere twinset, gold jewelry, and a nice scarf gathered with a gold clip.

Together we made my bed and she made sure all my pillows were fluffed and the heart-shaped boudoir pillow was in the center of the pillow collection. "Let‘s make sure the maids know what a special young lady you are" she said, hanging the lilac chiffon peignoir on the outside of the dressing screen.

I finished dressing, borrowing mother‘s pair of leather burgundy kitten-heeled pumps and the matching over-the-shoulder purse. The last touch was a black velvet jacket of my mothers. It took a while to find just the right jewelry. I swept my hair back and fastened it with the antique silver filigree hairclip and matched it with a multi-strand silver necklace with an onyx clasp. For a final little touch, I wore an antique white lace scarf under the lapels of the jacket. Although the weather didn‘t require it, I would bring my mother‘s natural mink coat just in case the weather turned. My final act before leaving my boudoir was to pack my purse with things I‘d need for the day.

Downstairs, I nervously waited for the cleaning ladies. Mimi had me practice a little bit by having me stand and offer my hand and saying a few words of greeting in a soft voice. Mimi had packed a wicker picnic basket that was waiting by the door.

The cleaning ladies arrived and my heart was pounding. There were two Hispanic ladies and one Caucasian lady that I recognized. Fortunately, Mimi led them immediately to the kitchen and they barely noticed me.

And then we were off. At first, I slouched down in my seat, but as we made some distance from home, I started to relax and enjoy the ride. I was doing it! I was going out dressed as a girl. It was nice to get out into the fresh air. The route Mimi was taking was unfamiliar, so I could entertain myself a little by taking in unfamiliar sites. The fall colors were beautiful. Somehow, the conversation turned to ’passing as a girl‘. Mimi first apologized, realizing that she hadn‘t yet given me any pointers but adding that I really didn‘t need any and that she was a lousy teacher anyway. She gave me some shallow advice on walking — "Hold your head up, take smaller steps." I asked her about telltale signs, like my figure, my Adam‘s apple, and things like that. She began by complimenting me on my skin and hair, saying that was near the top of the list — my skin was so soft, clear, and ’creamy white‘ and my hair was ’luscious‘. My hands and feet were small and that really helped the illusion. My Adam‘s apple, although discernable, wasn‘t big enough to break the illusion. She did mention that she had heard that there was a simple operation to reduce its size. She ended the conversation by saying that perhaps my mother could investigate hormone therapy and a bit of cosmetic surgery for me.

"Oh, I‘m not ready for that, Mimi — no way" I replied. I wasn‘t ready for such drastic measures.

"Well… not yet anyway. See how you feel about it in a few months" she replied gently.

We arrived at the dairy. The delicatessen had a few cars parked out front. We drove around back to the picnic area and parked the car. There was no one else there. While Mimi went inside to buy some cheese and sandwiches, I unpacked the picnic basket she had brought. There was a checkered tablecloth, plates, napkins, utensils, a bag of pretzels, and a bottle of Chardonnay and two wine glasses.

She took a while, but I wasn‘t nervous. Eventually she came out and we ate. She poured me a glass of wine, telling me it would help me relax. There was still a bit of fall colors out. She had brought her camera with her and took a few pictures of me against the backdrop of a large maple tree.

After lunch, I needed to use a restroom. Mimi said there was restroom in the store that was right next to the back door, and she walked over with me. I blushed as I entered the store, a couple of people saw me, but I got in and out of the bathroom without incident. I did spend a minute or so freshening my makeup.

Back in the car, Mimi said she had an idea for us. We were less than a half-hour away from a regional mall. "Let‘s go look at some dresses" she said merrily.

I was floored. "No way, Mimi!" I cried "I‘m… I can‘t go out like this!" I whined.

We were already on the road when she made the suggestion. We continued driving and bickered with each other as we made our way towards the mall. For every argument I had against going, she had a counter-argument. Finally, she put her foot down and declared that I was going to the mall and I was going look at some dresses, perhaps try some on and maybe purchase some. She offered that we‘d go to the mall and park as close as possible to the entrance to Macy‘s that opened into the ladies sportswear department, then go inside and browse the dresses. If I became too uncomfortable, we‘d leave. She informed me that it would be good for me, that I had to start ’stepping out‘ more, and she‘d be there to protect me. She reassured me time and again that it would be alright.

When we arrived thirty minutes later, I was already in a panic. My heart sank when she found a parking space close to the entrance. I was hoping she wouldn‘t find one and we‘d just call the whole thing off.

My heart was pounding violently and my ears were ringing as we exited the car and made our way to the entrance. Someone opened the door for us and we stepped inside to the ladies sportswear department. Mimi took me by the hand and immediately led me into the racks of dresses. "Just relax and have a look, dear".

I began looking through the racks, parting dresses with my red polished nails, making furtive glances around me. I had been looking for just a couple of minutes, just starting to calm down, when I saw a schoolmate of mine with her mother coming towards us. ’What the hell are they doing here?‘ I thought. "Mimi!" I whispered in panic, telling her who was coming towards us. "That‘s Jill and her mother, Mrs. Walker. They‘ll recognize me for sure!"

Mimi took my arm and led me back to the door, saying "stroll, dear, don‘t run."

Back outside and into the relative safety of our car, I let out my breath. "That was close" I said.

"No it wasn‘t dear. You did fine. We‘ll go now before you faint" she said with a grin. A minute later, she apologized, saying "I guess you really aren‘t ready to go out, are you? I‘m sorry. We‘ll take it much slower. Perhaps we‘ll just wait until your mommy comes back. Wait until you‘ve become more comfortable. You were right about this Evelyn… I should have listened to you. I‘ll make it up to you, okay?"

We stopped by a florist and I waited in the car while Mimi went inside and got fresh roses for my boudoir. "One more stop before we head home. Are you doing okay? Do you need to go to the bathroom?" she asked when she returned to the car.

"I‘m okay for now, Mimi. What‘s the next stop?"

"It‘s the Pheasant Run Inn. I want to pick up a flyer on their Halloween party. You‘ll be able to use the restroom there."

I had been by the Pheasant Run Inn a couple of times. It was an elegant old Inn situated along a river, known for its restaurant and as a place to host events, mainly weddings. Its grounds were immaculate. As we drove, Mimi told me that their Halloween party was quite an event which she and my mother had attended a few times when I was younger, which I vaguely recalled.

"It‘s quite fun. There are prizes for various costume categories and everyone wears costumes." I gulped when she added "I was thinking that you and I could go. It‘s a perfect opportunity for you to dress up and go out."

Twenty minutes or so later, we pulled into the parking lot and parked near the side entrance. There weren‘t many cars around. I would have waited in the car, but I really needed to go to the bathroom. My heart was pounding yet again as we went through the side entrance. We didn‘t encounter anyone as I clicked on my heels across the wood floor and into the ladies room, Mimi following behind. She was in the stall next to me and it was disconcerting to hear her undress and use the toilet. After checking ourselves in the mirrors, she led me into the lobby. I was relieved to find that the lobby had lots of nooks and alcoves and I was able to sit hidden away in a comfy chair as Mimi went to the front desk. A minute later, she returned carrying a flyer and a photo album of past Halloween parties.

"Here, take a look, dear" she said, sitting down next to me and leafing through the photo album. Most of the photos were of couples, their costumes elaborate and over-the-top. Most of the couples were the same sex and predominately female. There were a couple of photos of guys in drag; not trying to be feminine, but gross caricatures. It began to dawn on me that the revelers were mainly gay and lesbian that would be more accepting of a crossdressing boy. They flyer described the party and the packages they had available, such as a room for the weekend plus dinner before the party.

"See, Evelyn — wouldn‘t this be fun?" she asked.

"Uh, sure… maybe" I stammered.

"It‘s alright — you don‘t have to decide now — we‘ll take the flyer home with us." She returned the photo album to the front desk and we left, strolling around the grounds a bit before driving off to home.

We arrived back after five o‘clock. I had forgotten that the cleaning ladies had been over, and was pleasantly surprised when I went to my room to find everything polished and the carpet vacuumed. The lilac peignoir and robe still hung seductively from the dressing screen. Mimi replaced the flowers, filling the room with the fresh scent of roses.

Soon, we had dinner and I was upstairs undressing and doing my nighttime routine of applying lotions. I dressed in the moonglow blue pajama bottoms, nightshirt, tap panties, and the slate blue silk and cashmere robe. I wore the bustier, stockings, and couche-culottes beneath. I came back downstairs to find that Mimi had changed into loungewear as well, a set I had not seen before; a peach delustered satin nightgown and robe. The nightgown had a halter top and empire waist, the bodice and halter had an off-white lace net overlay as did the wide lapels of the robe. After I complimented Mimi, she said she had brought it from her home Thursday night, along with some other things. It was a different look for her; pink and soft and feminine.

We watched some television, both of us sitting on the couch. I brushed out my hair. When the program she wanted to watch was over, she flipped channels to an infomercial on beauty products and turned down the volume. She then laid a pillow on her lap and invited me to lie down and put my head on her lap. So invited, I situated myself, lying on my side, my head on the pillow facing the television and stretching my legs out on the couch. She began toying with my hair and asked if I had a fun day.

"Oh yes, Mimi, it was fun going out" I purred.

"Except for the little trip into Macy‘s, huh?" she asked.

"Yea — that was nerve-wracking. Sorry I freaked, Mimi" I replied.

"And I‘m sorry too, Evelyn. You‘re really not ready and I think that‘s mostly my fault. I haven‘t given you any sort of tips about acting as a girl. Your mommy will be much much better at that sort of thing; she‘ll draw on her modeling experience. I‘ll tell you what — I‘ll make it up to you tomorrow. After breakfast, I‘ll start your bath and then I‘ll go put on something nice. Then I‘ll help you dress up in that beautiful blouse and taffeta skirt that your aunt sent. We can take some pictures, just like we did a couple of days ago, and then you can go have a nice afternoon nap. You‘ll have plenty of time to dress in something different for dinner if you want. How does that sound?"

As she was telling me this, she continued stroking and fondling my hair. It felt so nice. "That sounds really lovely, Mimi — but you don‘t have to go through all that trouble for me" I purred again.

"It‘s no trouble, Evelyn. I like dressing you up, dear. It‘s a lovely way to bond with you — and it‘s enjoyable to watch how your personality changes."

"Really?" I purred — I was getting a little creamy and dreamy; she was taking strands of my hair and lifting them straight up, tugging just a bit, then letting the strand fall. She was letting her French accent slip, her voice was soft.

"If you don‘t mind, Evelyn…" she continued, "… could I help dress you in some of your more, um, intimate things? Like your brassiere? Because, really dear, the only thing you need to do in privacy is to put on your panties… I can help with everything else. After all, when you were little, I‘d give you baths, right?"

I should have realized what she was asking, but I was just so content and dreamy at that point, so ready to go to my room and play, that I purred "Sure, Mimi, I don‘t mind — if that‘s what you want to do."

"It is, Evelyn" she said, her voice barely audible.

After a half-minute of Mimi absentmindedly stroking my hair, she said "You must be tired dear. Why don‘t you go to bed now?"

I was titching by the time I made it to my room. I was wetting myself a little bit as I made my way to the toilet. After my toilet, I drew on my slightly damp couche-culottes then added lots of lotion all around my aching daintie before drawing on the plastic panties. I was in such a perfect mood for snuggling up to my lacy heart-shaped boudoir pillow.

Saturday

I woke early with nature calling and rose to use the toilet, but I didn‘t completely empty myself. I went back to bed, drifting in and out of sleep as I passed occasional weak streams and wetting myself. Less than an hour later, Mimi knocked on my door and came in. She was still dressed in her peach nightgown and robe. She was carrying a cup of tea for me and put it on my night table as she sat on the bed next to me.

"Good morning, Evelyn. Did you sleep alright?"

I sat up in bed and replied that I slept wonderfully, taking a sip of tea. I detected the taste of Mimi‘s tea mixed with mothers.

"Did you have any problems?" she asked concernedly.

"I… I think I wet myself last night, Mimi" I lisped.

"Are you sure?" she asked, her voice gentle.

"Uh-huh."

"Oh you poor thing… Let‘s check you for wetness then. Go on and sit up, dear" she said kindly, slipping into her heavy French accent.

I sat up on my knees. I was still wearing the pajama bottoms and she told me to pull them down so she could check me. I drew them down slowly. As she had done previously, she fingered the fabric of my panties and the stocking suspenders, starting in the back. And, just like the other morning, she tried to comfort me by saying "You poor thing, Evelyn… having to deal with the shame of your bedwetting. I‘m so sorry… I‘m here to help, dear…"

She was satisfied with her inspection and I sat back down. She continued with her comforting and sympathetic tone, saying "Don‘t take this the wrong way, dear, but I think your bedwetting is just a symptom of your submissiveness."

I blushed and toyed with my hair and the strap of my camisole. I knew a lecture about my submissiveness was now coming, and I wasn‘t going to interrupt — although her words would sting, I found her sympathetic tone comforting. Besides, it was as if she was talking about someone else since I wasn‘t truly a bed wetter.

"I know you probably don‘t like hearing it, but your personality is quite submissive; after all, you‘re dressing up as a young lady, wearing ladies underthings to school and the library, lounging about at home in high heels and dresses, and… wetting your bed. These are all sure indicators of submissiveness. But it‘s alright dear… it‘s who you are, and you have to get past any feelings of shame and inadequacy. You poor thing… trust me dear, it‘ll all be fine. I have a nice day planned for you… we‘ll get you all dressed up just as pretty as can be and then you‘ll feel much, much better, alright?"

"Yes, Mimi" I whispered, my voice quavering as I began to pass water into my moist and warm couche-culottes.

"Good. I‘ll go start breakfast… come down when you‘re ready."

I finished the tea and by the time I came downstairs, carrying a fresh pair of the terrycloth couche-culottes, I was wet and immediately went to the laundry room to take care of my wet things. Mimi had thoughtfully put a carton of baby powder in the laundry room. I removed the wet couche-culottes and plastic panties, rinsed everything out, disposed of the wicking pad, started the washer, then washed myself and applied powder before drawing on the soft dry couche-culottes.

Mimi was in the kitchen, humming to herself as she laid out breakfast for me. I was quiet, thinking about her comments on how I was a submissive little thing. Outside, it was beginning to cloud up, further quieting my mood.

"I‘ll go upstairs and make your bed, dear, and start your bath while you finish your breakfast. Just come on up when you‘re done."

Mimi was waiting for me at the top of the stairs, smiling. Her robe was open, revealing the lacy bodice of her nightgown. "All set for you" she said gaily as she watched me come up the stairs and enter my boudoir.

She had made up my bed; the pillows were all fluffed, the lacy heart shaped satin boudoir pillow in the middle of the neatly arranged mound. She had turned the dressing screen around so that the mirrors were facing the bed and moved the ottoman to the front. The curtains were drawn almost closed. It could have been dusk. Classical music was playing on the stereo. I disrobed, laying my things on the wingback chair, and went to bathe. Mimi had filled the tub with aromatic bubble bath and lit a scented candle. I slipped into the warm water and sighed, then began lathering myself lavender soap. I washed my hair, using the detachable shower head to rinse. Feeling in the mood, I retrieved my stash of hashish and pipe buried deep in the linen closet in the bathroom and partook of just a bit, then settled back into the tub. My thoughts entwined around Mimi‘s ’submissive‘ comments as I relaxed in the steamy hot bath. A wealthy, cosseted, and submissive sissy was what I was, and I was so enjoying it, having a luxurious bath before being dressed for the day by my French nanny.

I dried my hair then put it in hot curlers and wrapped the terrycloth turban around it. I was applying after-bath lotion when I heard Mimi enter my room. She asked how I was doing.

"Almost done, Mimi… I‘m just putting on a little dusting powder" I replied with a lilt.

I tied the terrycloth wrap around me and then donned the plush terrycloth robe. I stepped out of my bathroom. Mimi was sitting on the wingback chair. She was stunningly dressed in the black lace dress that I had brought from her car: it had a squared neckline, three-quarter sleeves, and an A-line knee-length skirt. Around her waist was a wide shiny red belt. She wore black seamed stockings and red leather pumps with a mid-height heel. Around her neck was a red satin choker with a big red rose petal worn on the side. She had borrowed several of my mother‘s gold and plastic bangle bracelets that clinked whenever she moved her arm. She had full makeup and her lips were a deep red. But it was her hair that was most striking — she had applied mousse and brushed it out to give it a good deal of volume; it was no longer a conservative long bob but an untamed and riotous coif appropriate for an evening out on the town.

"Wow, Mimi, you look fabulous" is all I could say.

"Why thank you, Evelyn. You‘re going to look fabulous too when I done with you. Now why don‘t sit at your vanity and do your face while I bring out your things."

I sat down as instructed and began with the whitest foundation cream I had. Mimi was humming along with the music from the stereo. She opened the closet and brought out the poets blouse, taffeta skirt, and princess petticoat and laid it on one side of the bed. She took each piece out individually and took her time laying each one out, giving me time to do my makeup. Then into my lingerie drawer she went, bringing out the white crepe-de-chine garter belt, brassiere, my brassiere sachets, and a pair of French-heel white silk seamed stockings, again bringing out each piece individually. She carefully laid these on the side of the bed facing the mirrored dressing screen. Then back to the closet for the crepe-de-chine dance pantie. Finally, she went back to my lingerie drawer for the crepe-de-chine bikini pantie that matched the brassiere and garter belt, the pair of tulip panties, and a lace-trimmed damask handkerchief.

"I know what the handkerchief is for, Evelyn — I think it‘s a really good idea."

I didn‘t know what to say; I just sat there stunned. She took the panties and the pantie napkin behind the dressing screen. Finally, she brought out the crepe de chine long robe and hung it on the back of the dressing screen.

Seeing that I wasn‘t quite done with my makeup, Mimi excused herself, saying she was going downstairs to fetch some sherry for us. "I know it‘s early in the day for a sherry, dear, but you‘re looking a little nervous. I‘ll be back in fifteen minutes or so — that‘ll give you time to finish making up. Now don‘t put anything on until I get back — remember what you promised last night?" she asked, referring to her request to help dress me in my "intimate things".

As soon as she left, I went to the bathroom and partook of a little more of my stash. I wasn‘t worried about Mimi discovering I was partaking of hashish. I knew there would be no scent if I exhaled out the window. The aromatic candle and bathroom fan would take care of the rest. As soon as I sat back down at my vanity, I started having a little anxiety attack. I looked about the room at the things Mimi had laid out, realizing that I was going to come out from behind the dressing screen in just my panties and the robe and letting Mimi see me in such a state of undress — it was just one more piece of my dignity I was giving up. Then the thought of her helping me into my brassiere and garter belt struck me. It was just too intimate, too sexual, and it scared me.

I tried to calm myself by finishing my makeup, bring my lips out as full as possible with deep purple lipstick. I added to my eyeshadow and mascara and cheek blush. I was done up like a porcelain doll

Mimi arrived, carrying a tray with a decanter of sherry and two small crystal goblets. It took her about half a minute to realize my mood and that something was wrong.

"Is something the matter Evelyn?" she asked concernedly.

"Mimi…" I whined just a bit "…I‘m scared… this isn‘t right…" and then a tear or two came to my eye.

"Nonsense mon chéri" she said, her voice lilting, letting her accent come out more. "Here, come and sit by me…" She sat down on the loveseat and motioned for me to sit next to her. I sat and she put her arm around me. She told me to drink a bit of the sherry to calm myself. I kept my eyes down, not wanting her to see my glazed and dilated pupils.

"There‘s no reason to be scared, dear. For goodness sakes, I‘m not going to hurt you."

"I know, Mimi… It‘s just that… well, it‘s wrong… It‘s just all wrong…" I sniffed.

"What? It‘s wrong for me to help you dress? What could possibly be wrong with that? I‘m not going to do anything inappropriate, Evelyn. You‘re just being silly. Nannies are supposed to help their young lady‘s dress."

"It‘s not just that, Mimi… I shouldn‘t be doing this… you know… dressing in ladies things."

"Evelyn, we‘ve been through this. You‘re a lady, a fine young lady… an oh-so-pretty young lady. Sure, you‘re in a boy‘s body, but you‘re a fragile and inadequate boy, much better suited to being a girl."

"Oh, Mimi" I whined, taking a tissue from the vanity and blowing my nose and dabbing my eyes with another.

"There, there. You‘ll feel much much better once you‘re dressed up. Perhaps it‘ll help if you call me ’nanny‘ while I‘m dressing you. After all, I was your nanny not many years ago, and I bathed you and dressed you then. Now let‘s not discuss this anymore — you need to go put on your panties and the robe."

"Okay, Mimi, I guess you‘re right."

"Of course I‘m right. And call me ’nanny‘, alright?"

"Yes, nanny; thank you, nanny."

I rose and went behind the dressing screen, my ears ringing, my cheeks flushed. I finished the glass of sherry and it did help me relax a bit. I disrobed from my terrycloth things and slipped on the bikini panties, adding the damask pantie napkin. As soon as I nestled the pantie napkin around my daintie, she became aroused and I had to concentrate to make her relax. Then I slipped into the tulip panties. I was glad Mimi had brought them out for me because the bikini was quite immodest. I donned the robe and wrapped it around me and stepped out. Mimi was standing by the bed waiting for me.

I stood facing the mirrored dressing screen, my nanny behind me.

"Now mon chéri, undo your robe" she whispered as she lifted the brassiere from the bed.

"Yes, nanny" I said under my breath. I let to robe fall to my waist, held at my waist by its sash. She stepped in front of me and guided the brassiere up my arms, then stepped behind me, drew it on, and fastened the back. I stood stock-still, watching my reflection in the mirror, barely breathing, trying not to get completely overwhelmed by the sensuality of the moment. The only thing holding me back was that the handsome and well-dressed woman that was dressing me was almost family to me.

The garter belt was next. While Mimi held my robe, I undid the sash. When the sash was undone, Mimi casually draped the robe across the bed. She encircled the garter belt around my waist and clasped it in the back. Then she took one of the suspenders, pulled opened the waist of the tulip panties, and let the suspender fall between my bikini panties and the tulip pantie. She did the same with the remaining three suspenders. She worked quickly and I was thankful she did because it would have been far too sensual of a moment otherwise.

She helped me back into the robe, saying "We mustn‘t let you become chilled, mon chéri. Your stockings are next — sit down at your vanity and I‘ll roll them for you."

I sat and watched as she took one stocking and slowly rolled it for me. She had me lift my leg and she worked the stocking over my foot to my ankle, then whispered "You take it now…"

I reached down and unrolled the stocking up my leg. "Be sure the seam is nice and straight, mon chéri" she said.

"Yes, nanny" I rasped. When the stocking was unrolled, I clasped the top suspender, and then rose from my chair to clasp the back suspender. Mimi helped me by guiding my hand so that the suspender was straight. I sat back down and we repeated the process with the other stocking. "Your legs are so shapely, Evelyn… you‘ve got your mother‘s legs" she told me.

"Now your panties" she said, holding up the pair of crepe-de-chine dance panties. She opened the waist and guided the panties past my ankles and up my calves until I could easily reach them. I drew them up past my knees then stood and drew them on the rest of the way.

"Let‘s let down your hair" she said as I sat back down. She stood behind me and unwound the turban around my head, then began to remove the curlers, letting my hair fall. "You have the most beautiful hair, Evelyn…" she whispered, adding a few more superlatives. When all the curlers were out she fluffed out my hair a bit then led me back to the mirror. Mimi took one of the sachets and stepped in front of me. I made a motion to take the sachet from her, but she refused my offer, saying with a hint of exasperation "Oh, let me do it, alright mon chéri?"

"Yes, nanny" I breathed.

She opened the cups of my brassier and inserted the sachets, positioning them just so, then stepped back to evaluate, saying "There — that looks fine, dear."

The camisole was next. She had me raise my hands over my head and she gently worked the camisole down over my head and onto my shoulders, being careful not to let the fine fabric touch my makeup, and then drew it over my padded brassiere, giving a final tug or two at the waist.

"Now for your petticoat, mon chéri. Here, sit on the bed."

I sat down, my legs dangling. Mimi moved the vanity chair close to me and sat down. She took the petticoat and gathered it up and guided it over my feet and up to my knees. Wordlessly, I stood and took the waist of the petticoat and gently pulled it the rest of the way.

The poet‘s blouse came next. As with the camisole, she guided the blouse down my raised arms, carefully avoiding my face and makeup. When the blouse was in-place and adjusted, she stepped back and looked me over.

"Such a beautiful blouse, mon chéri — it‘s exquisite" she whispered.

I again sat on the bed as she gathered the skirt, opened the waistband, and guided it over my ankles. It was tricky; she had to gather folds of the petticoat and guide them through the waistband, being careful not to let the delicate material snag on the zipper. After a couple of unsuccessful attempts, she asked me "You dressed in this skirt and petticoat before, right? How in the world did you get into the skirt?"

"With great difficulty, nanny" I replied with a chuckle, adding "I nearly tore my petticoat."

She made one more half-hearted attempt and then, with a smile on her face, she said "I have an idea, mon chéri. You wait right here — I‘ll be back in a minute."

She came back with three of my mother‘s scarves draped around her neck. The scarves were all different colors and patterns, but they all shared one thing in common: they were long narrow rectangular scarves.

"Now lie down on your bed for me, mon chéri" she said with a playful tone. Not knowing what she had in mind, I lay down, my head propped up on the profusion of pillows, my knees bent.

She took a scarf from around her neck and slipped it under my legs, and then drew it out to its full length so that it was perpendicular to my legs. When she was done, she did the same thing with the second scarf, saying "My idea, mon chéri, is that if I tie these scarves around your petticoat, it will make it very easy for me to put on your skirt."

When the three scarves were laid out, she removed all but one of the pillows behind my head and had me lay flat on the bed, straightening out my legs. Then she began to tie the scarves; one just above my knees, one just below them, and one at the petticoat‘s hemline. She tied them tight and I let out a little grunt when she tied the first one.

"Are you alright, mon chéri? They‘re not too tight are they?" she asked.

"No, nanny, they‘re not too tight" I lisped.

When she was done, she stepped back and gave me a long look. "My, my, just look at you" she said, a wry smile on her lips.

She sat down on the bed next to me and brushed a bit of my hair away from my face. "This would be a good time to discuss the Halloween costume party at the Pheasant Run Inn. I think we should go, Evelyn. I have a perfect costume in mind for you — I know just where to get it; there‘s a specialty costume shop in the city where they custom make costumes and other things. We can get an eye mask to wear with it. Nobody would recognize you."

All I could think of was to ask again about the costume she had in mind.

"Oh, you‘ll like it mon chéri" she whispered. "It‘s an Alice in Wonderland party dress… something a young girl might wear… with a really pretty petticoat, much like the one you‘re wearing now, and pettipants too."

"Oh" I titched. I was swept up in the moment, envisioning dressing and going out in a pretty blue or pink party dress with lace and ruffles and a petticoat and pettipants. "Oh my" I lisped, picturing the dress in my mind. "Are you sure I‘ll be alright, nanny?"

"Of course, mon chéri — I wouldn‘t be asking you if I didn‘t think it would be good for you" she whispered, brushing back another strand of my hair. "It‘s all part of making you more confident going out as a girl" she added.

"What color is it?" I asked.

"Why, Alice blue, of course, mon chéri."

"Okay, nanny… if you want, I‘ll go…" I was in no state to refuse.

"Good!" she said with a smile. "I‘ll call them right now. You wait right here while I go fetch their telephone number."

She rose from the bed and left the room, telling me that the flyer with the phone number was in her room. I couldn‘t believe the predicament I was in; there I was, lying in bed, dressed in exquisite and utterly feminine things, my frothy petticoat and silk stocking‘d legs bound by three tightly tied scarves. I took a deep breath and let out a quivering moan, clasping the corners of the pillow behind my head and began to titch rhythmically, laying a still as possible, not wanting to loosen the scarves tied around my legs. My daintie was becoming stimulated, but was not noticeable beneath the petticoat which had bunched up a bit around my pelvis. Mimi took the longest time it seemed, time I spent in bed with my legs bound. It was probably only five minutes, but it seemed like an eternity.

She arrived with the flyer. She fetched the cordless phone on my nightstand, sat down next to me, smiled, and apologized for taking so long. Then she dialed the number and was soon connected to someone at the inn. I lay there as she spoke in the phone, asking about reservations and rooms. It turned out that all the rooms were taken, but there were still reservations available for dinner and the party.

"Wonderful" she said, adding "I‘d like a reservation for two — myself and my…" she looked down at me, smiled, and said "my friend‘s daughter". There was a pause and she added "Yes… she‘s eighteen."

All I could think was that I would, at some point, have to show my identification card which showed that I was a boy.

Mimi patted me on my knee as she read off her credit card information and gave our names: "… yes, that‘s correct, Evelyn Fairechild."

She disconnected and put the phone on the nightstand, saying "All set, dear. Too bad we couldn‘t get a couple of rooms — but they put us on a waiting list."

"Oh Mimi" I sighed. I told her my concerns about showing my identification card and she brushed them off.

"Now, let‘s finish dressing you, Miss Fairechild" she said in a soft French accent. She placed a cylindrical bolster pillow beneath my calves to raise my feet, and then began to fit the skirt over my feet and up to the bolster pillow. She then helped me lift my legs higher and I held them up so that she could work the skirt just past my knees. Except for having to hold my legs up, the operation was easy — the skirt slid easily over the bound petticoat. With her help, I swung my legs over to the side of the bed and stood facing the mirrors. The bottommost scarf fell off the petticoat and onto the floor, but the other two scarves held. She drew the skirt to my waist and we both tucked the blouse in beneath the skirt. The skirt was zipped and the wide satin sash was buckled. Mimi had me hold up the skirt while she undid the two remaining scarves. She was facing away from the mirror as she dealt with the scarves and I had a private moment with myself in the mirror, watching as my well-dressed nanny attended to me, releasing me from my petticoat bindings. Then she took the opportunity to tug at the hems of the blouse and chemise, pulling them down past the taught waist of the skirt.

"Now sit at your dressing table, dear, and let‘s get you finished up" she said gaily, putting her hand on my shoulder and guiding me over to my vanity.

We spent a half-hour or so at the vanity. Mimi drew back my hair in a soft gentle drape and fastened it with a big white chiffon hair bow, adding the white lace scarf to the bow to make long streamers. She fastened the black velvet choker with the black and white cameo around my neck. After I put on the black satin stiletto heel open-toe pumps that Auntie included with the ensemble, Mimi wrapped and clasped one of mother‘s pearl necklaces around my ankle as an ankle bracelet. I wore my pearl dropped earrings and my pearl bracelet over the antique white fingerless crocheted gloves Auntie had sent.

After a final touch-up of my makeup, Mimi and I left my boudoir and descended the staircase to take some photographs. As usual, the setting was our formal parlor and Mimi had me pose by the piano and in our big wingback chair. I took some pictures of her as well. I rarely spoke for my mood was so dreamy, and when I did, my voice was soft and lilting. Mimi sensed just how affected I was by the dressing; she was quiet as well and gently guided my through the rest of the morning. We then began to prepare a light lunch.

"I think after lunch you should take a nap, mon chéri… you look a little tired and you do need your beauty rest" she said.

"Yes, I think I will take a nap, nanny" I replied, leaving out what I would do before napping.

Before we ate, I went back to my boudoir to freshen up and use the toilet. I donned my cashmere daintie glove for my daintie was becoming so creamy I was afraid I‘d soil my panties.

As we ate at our dining table Mimi asked coyly "Would you like me to help you undress for your nap?"

"No… that‘s alright Mimi… I‘d rather do it myself if you don‘t mind" I replied, blushing, looking down to avoid eye contact. I didn‘t want her help because I so wanted to cream while dressed in my exquisite ensemble.

"Of course, dear; I understand" she said reassuringly. "I think I‘ll take a nap as well. Perhaps you could help me out of my dress before you retire?"

"Of course, Mimi."

We finished eating and Mimi told me to go upstairs and wait for her. I turned on the stereo and played some soft music, then sat down at my vanity to touch up my makeup. She arrived in a few minutes, carrying her black marabou-trimmed chiffon robe. She draped the robe across my bed and stood facing the mirrors. She removed her belt then, in a soft voice, asked "Miss Evelyn? Would you unzip me dear?"

I swallowed and stepped behind her and slowly drew down the zipper, expecting to reveal her black lace over white satin foundations that she had modeled for me before, but it I encountered something different — a silver satin camisole and tap pantie with black lace trim. She was wearing a garter belt for I could see its black suspenders appearing from beneath the tap pantie to clasp her black seamed stockings. With the dress unzipped, she held out her arm so that I could help her out of her sleeve. She stepped out of the dress and I held it for her, draped over my arm, wide eyed. The camisole had a button front, trimmed with black lace. She gave a turn and a pose in the mirror, smiling at me and my open mouth gape. "How do I look mon chéri?"

"Oh my goodness, Mimi" I replied breathlessly. "That‘s such a beautiful set" I added with real admiration.

"Why thank you, dear. I just purchased it recently. Its nice being a lady, isn‘t it? You get to wear such lovely underthings. You like wearing nice underthings, don‘t you, Evelyn?"

"Yes, nanny" I replied, blushing.

She took another turn, admiring herself in the mirror, and then donned the robe. She took her dress from my crooked arm and laid it on the wingback chair along with her red belt.

"Well, I think I‘ll go take a little nap as well, mon chéri. Would you mind if I slept in your mommy‘s room? I took the sheets off my bed this morning and they aren‘t laundered yet."

"No Mimi — of course not" I replied.

"Are you sure you don‘t want me to help you undress, dear?" she asked quietly.

I hesitated for a moment. I was in such a creamy mood that I was afraid I wouldn‘t be able to control myself around her if she stayed. "I‘m sorry Mimi — I‘d rather undress in private if you don‘t mind."

"Of course not dear… I understand" she answered kindly. "At least let me turn down your bed for you" she added. Not waiting for a reply, she turned back the bed coverings and smoothed them out, then plumped up a few of the pillows. When finished, she turned to me and said "I‘ll come and wake you in a couple of hours and we‘ll decide what you‘ll wear for dinner. Perhaps I‘ll take a look in your mommy‘s closet for a nice dinner dress for you. Perhaps there‘s something special of hers that you‘d like to wear? You can let me know after your nap."

Then she gave me a wet kiss on the cheek and whispered "Pleasant dreams, Miss Evelyn." And with that, she left the room, closing the door behind her, leaving her dress draped across the wingback chair.

I waited a few moments before locking the door, and then I moved the loveseat from the foot of the bed to the side of the bed to face the mirrors of the dressing screen. I draped the mink throw across the loveseat, and then arranged various pillows on top, putting the feminine heart-shaped boudoir pillow in the middle. Then, for the third time that day, I went to my bathroom and partook, elevating my senses so to better experience the upcoming sensations and pleasures. I poured a glass of sherry from the decanter then sat on the loveseat, striking a fetching pose, and examined my reflection in the mirror, titching, channeling the oh-so-sensual events of the day into the moment.

I couldn‘t believe what Mimi had done to me. She had teased me to the cusp purest sensuality, completely overwhelmed my senses and subjugated me to her whims. I just couldn‘t fathom her intentions. Was this how ladies interacted? Was she simply introducing me to the pleasures of femininity, just helping me feel ’comfortable‘? Or was she intentionally teasing me, knowing that behind the locked door of my boudoir, I would be creaming, my thoughts on her and what she had done to me? Was there a difference? Did it matter? What I did know was I had Mimi‘s unspoken but explicit approval to cream. Ensconced in my boudoir, my whole being vibrantly charged, I began to play amongst my pillows. I thought that the longer I could dally, lingering near the precipice, the deeper my creaming would be, completely purging myself of the awful boy hormones welling inside of me. My dressing of taffeta, tulle, lace, and silk merged with the velvet, silk, lace, and fine linen of my pillows and the mink throw.

Why had Mimi left her dress? It was if she was sitting in the chair, watching me…

Nearly an hour had passed in exquisite pleasure when the moment arrived. I tried to contain my cries, but doubted that Mimi was unaware.

I managed to undress without soiling anything other than my bikini panties which I washed in the sink and hung to dry on a towel rack. I straightened my boudoir, putting the loveseat back and laying my garments on it as I finished undressing, donned couche-culottes and the lilac chiffon peignoir, unlocked the door, then slipped between the fine linen sheets and fell asleep.

It was mid-afternoon when Mimi knocked on the door and entered. She had changed into her claret red ballet dress with a black lace scarf tied loosely around her neck. She was still wearing her black stockings and her red pumps. She brought a tray of cocktail sandwiches and a pot of black tea and set them on the vanity, then sat down on the bed and waited for me to fully wake and sit up. She asked if I had a pleasant nap and inquired whether I was wearing couche-culottes and if they were wet (they weren‘t).

"I have an idea for your dinner dressing" she said. "Let me go fetch it."

I got out of bed and put on the matching robe, then began making my bed. Mimi returned with something I had always wanted to dress in properly, but never had the chance — a stunning black velvet floor-length formal column dress, the silk velvet of the highest quality. This was a dress mother wore to the most formal affairs. Although I had tried it on briefly in the past, I never had the chance to give it the slow and meticulous dressing it deserved. The dress was sleeveless, but had two wide straps that created cap sleeves, made of white duchess satin, attached to the bodice with rhinestone clasps, connecting to a white duchess satin chapel drape in the back with streamers that fell almost to the floor. Along with the gown, Mimi brought black velvet opera length gloves, thirteen buttons on each, that mother wore with the gown. She hung the gown and gloves on the dressing screen then helped me finish making my bed.

"What do you think of my choice, dear?"

"It‘s wonderful, nanny. I‘ve always loved that gown, but I‘ve never had a chance to properly dress in it."

"Well, now‘s your chance" she replied with a wink.

I used the toilet then sat at my vanity, drinking my tea and eating the sandwiches that Mimi had thoughtfully brought. I watched as she selected my underdressing, humming to herself as she did. She said I should wear fresh underthings and chose the shimmering silver gray jacquard with ecru bobbin lace trim camisole and tap pantie. The pettislip would not be needed, she said, because the gown was lined with white satin. For foundations, she chose the rather risqué set of pink satin and shimmering gray lace; full-cup brassiere, a waist cincher, bikini panties, and tulip panties. She finished the under dressing with black French heel silk stockings. She also retrieved short robe that matched the camisole and tap pantie in anticipation that once my under dressing was completed I would don the robe and do a bit of grooming before finishing with the gown.

As she did that morning, she placed the bikini panties and the tulip panties behind the dressing screen along with a fresh pantie napkin, which caused me to blush. The camisole and tap pantie were hung from the dressing screen, and the remaining foundations were draped on the bed.

The next hour or so was spent dressing me, much the same as she had that morning. I went behind the dressing screen and donned the panties and pantie napkin, then stood facing the mirrors as she clothed me in the foundations and the camisole. I slipped into the matching short robe and sat at the vanity to draw on the stockings and the tap pantie. As before, Mimi rolled the stockings for me.

Although I was quite affected by this repeat of the morning‘s dressing, I was a bit more relaxed and light-hearted, not stunned into silence by Mimi‘s actions as I had been that morning. Rather than withdrawing as I had, refusing to admire myself in the mirror unless Mimi wasn‘t looking, I did so now, striking modest admiring poses and postures, primping and preening a bit.

"See — you‘re becoming more comfortable, aren‘t you Evelyn?" she asked, watching me as I did a little turn in the mirror.

"Yes, just a little nanny" I replied, ceasing my posing and withdrawing, as I felt that I was caught doing an illicit thing.

"Now, now; don‘t stop mon chéri. You‘re finally starting to come out of your shell. You‘re like a beautiful butterfly, emerging from her cocoon."

I had to giggle at her metaphor. Not wanting to be rude, I smiled brightly and made another pose, saying "I‘ll try, nanny. I‘m just a little… you know… uncomfortable."

"I know you are — that‘s why I‘m here" she replied.

The time came to dress me in the exquisite velvet gown, and Mimi had me sit on the edge of the bed as she opened the gown and I guided my legs through.

"No need to tie you up in your petticoats with this gown" she remarked, causing me to blush again.

We decided that my hair should be worn up, and I used the bun curler to create a fetching coiffure, Mimi helping me, standing behind me as I sat at the vanity, arranging strands of my hair just so, and suggesting that I let several long strands fall for a more dramatic effect. After I freshened my makeup, Mimi helped me into the velvet gloves and buttoned them for me. She remarked how well the gloves fit and how fortunate I was that my hands, like my feet, were small and daintie like a lady‘s.

"You should wear your mommy‘s diamonds, dear… especially the tiara. She has a hair comb that‘s decorated with rhinestones, doesn‘t she?" Together, Mimi and I went to my mother‘s room where I sat at mother‘s vanity while Mimi decorated me with my mother‘s diamonds, occasionally staring at the photograph of me in the St. John‘s knit. The bracelet looked so dramatic over the black velvet glove. She found the rhinestone decorated comb and fixed my bun with it. With a bit of drama, she placed the diamond tiara on my head, telling me I looked like a princess. When we had walked from my room to mother‘s room, she had noticed that the gown was too long and I had to hold it up. Mimi now looked through mother‘s closet for the highest pair of appropriate heels she could find, telling me they were needed to keep the hem of the gown from dragging. She found a pair of four and a half inch stiletto heel T-strap sandals, the straps seemingly invisible beneath their decorations of rhinestones and an occasional sapphire blue bead. The contrast of the flirty shoes against my sheer black silk stockings was almost gauche, but in keeping with the rest of the ensemble.

Mimi said she wanted to finish the roll of film by photographing me in the gown. "I think you should wear some fur for the pictures" she added.

Back to my boudoir we went. I really had to mince on the high heels. The calves of my legs were becoming sore — my wearing of heels over the past few days was having an effect.

We couldn‘t decide between the white fox stole and the white fox capelet, so we went downstairs with both. My first pose was at the foot of the stairs, holding the stole by its collar at my side, letting it puddle on the floor. Mimi took about a half-dozen photographs, carefully posing me for each one. One was a pose of me all cuddly in the white fox capelet, my diamonds twinkling in the last vestiges of afternoon light.

After the roll of film was finished, we took a half hour or so to review and decide on a digital camera. Together, we sat in the study and I showed her what I had found out. We decided on a top-of-the-line camera and we ordered it, using my mother‘s credit card (Mimi assured me that mother had insisted that the camera be bought using her credit card).

We then had dinner, Mimi preparing a packaged chicken dish as I set the table. We had wine with dinner. Mimi talked about how much fun she had that day, saying she really enjoyed dressing me, and asked me if I had enjoyed it as well.

"Yes, nanny, I did have fun" I replied, then went on to add that I felt embarrassed by some of the more personal and intimate moments ’…when I was scantily clad‘ I offered, blushing as I said so.

"Oh, I know you did, but you shouldn‘t; it doesn‘t bother me in the least, why should it bother you?"

I couldn‘t think of a reply. Mimi continued, saying that she hoped she‘d have more opportunities to dress me. Then she added "And you were able to fit in a nice afternoon nap. I think it‘s important that you have time for a little beauty rest during the day."

I felt flush and my skin tingled as I recalled the tantalizing hour or so I spent near the cusp and wondering if she heard my cries when the moment arrived.

She changed the subject, telling me that she had promised the realtor she worked with to show a house the next day. She would be gone from mid-morning to late afternoon.

After dinner, she left me downstairs while she attended to things upstairs. Soon, she was calling me from the top of the stairs, saying "Come, Evelyn. It‘s time for your nighttime routine."

She had changed into her black lace halter top pantsuit and her black chiffon robe with black marabou trim. She led me to my mother‘s room and undressed me of the diamonds, shoes, gloves and gown. Then it was back to my boudoir where she had put everything away, but left the dressing screen unchanged so that the mirrors faced the bed. She had laid the white silk charmeuse chemise, tap pantie, pajama bottoms, and robe on the bed along with the cotton stockings and satin bustier. I knew what waited for me behind the dressing screen — the couche-culottes.

I donned the short robe and sat at the vanity. Mimi sat on the loveseat, watching me as I removed my stockings, handing them to her. I stood, removed the robe, and Mimi helped me out of the camisole, and then undid my brassiere and waist cincher. Now behind the dressing screen, I donned the couch-culottes and the terrycloth robe that Mimi had laid on the ottoman. She then excused herself to tidy up mother‘s room (we had left the ensemble and jewelry on the bed) while I cleansed my face with cold cream and massaged lotion all over, adding a good sized dollop of lotion to my daintie.

I was applying lotion to my legs when Mimi reentered. A few minutes later, she was dressing me in the bustier, rolling my stockings for me, and helping me into the chemise. I sat on the bed facing the mirrored dressing screen as she opened the tap panties for me to step into, then letting me stand to draw them up over the plastic panties. This was repeated with the pajama bottoms. Finally, she helped me into the robe. After donning my stiletto-heeled boudoir slippers, we went downstairs to watch a little television and to have a cup or two of her tea. We sat on the couch, entertained by a romantic comedy, as we sipped tea and I brushed my hair a hundred strokes. Mimi took over brushing after I neared the mark, slowly guiding the brush through my hair. She then tied my hair with the narrow foot-long length of white silk that was in the pocket of my robe. When done, she kissed me on the cheek and said "Off to bed with you now." It was only nine o‘clock or so. I ascended the stairs to my boudoir.

I parted my robe and snuggled into bed, sitting up and in the soft light of the bedside lamp, taking stock of myself in the dressing mirror. It had been a week since my mother had left and I thought about just how different my holiday was from what I had thought it would be. I had anticipated being left mostly alone, playing dress-up in private whenever the muse struck. But instead, I was completely overwhelmed by Mimi — it was almost suffocating how she had taken total control of my agenda. I hadn‘t worn boy‘s underwear for a week and, in fact, had only dressed in boy‘s outerwear when I was at school. I should be rebelling against Mimi‘s clutches but it seemed impossible; after all, I was the one who decided to dress up in ’something soft and feminine‘ to greet her the previous Sunday. I felt utterly helpless, powerless, and, as Mimi would say, inadequate. And the way she had done it; making me wear couche-culottes and tacitly encouraging me to wet myself, dressing me, photographing me, and going out of her way to dress herself most femininely, unabashedly showing off her foundations and lingerie. Then my thoughts turned to how absolutely splendid the day had been — dressed by my nanny, sent to bed for a splendid afternoon revelry, then dressed again…

Everything became still and silent as a tantalizing tingling sensation came over me. Sometime later, I fell into a blissful dream-filled sleep.

To be continued…