Sometimes we find it hard to motivate ourselves, this is true of any human activity, and it needs something or someone to inject a little interest back into us to spark the passion once more.

I knew this was not my usual style of dress as soon as I put it on, the fabric was so smooth and slippy, it felt great just to touch but to wear it was another challenge. I first recognised this was going to be different to my usual just above the knee cotton skirts when I sat down and the sarong type skirt opened up exposing my knees, refusing to maintain any modesty unless I kept a hand on the wayward fabric.

'You can't expect me to go out in this' I pleaded with Martin.
He looked at me with an impish smile 'But it was you who suggested I choose your outfit'

I had been friends with Martin for years, well Julie at first but then as our friendship grew we would meet up in drab as well as drag depending on where we were going. Of late though I had been losing interest in wearing a dress choosing the easier option of trousers whenever we got together. A fortnight before that day we had discussed my dull clothing, Julie was in a straight black skirt and red satin blouse, while I was in chinos and a darker grey shirt. We had dressed like this for possibly six months now if we meet on Canal St, me as a man, Martin as a hot Julie. It suited me but apparently not Julie. She was recalling fun nights we had had flirting with the trannie watchers and mixing with others who make up the Canal St circus. I was not saying I did not enjoy myself, rather I had just lost the motivation to get into a frock. Julie wanted to change this, she was fed up with her always being the girl in our outings, so I was persuaded to let Martin be the trousers the next time we went out and he would dress me as his ideal female partner. I felt this could be fun, not least because I had been suggesting to Julie what she might wear on occasion, even lending some of my unused clothing for her to model at my suggestion, the blouse she was wearing that evening was in fact mine, so it was only fair I returned the favour, as it were.

And so that is how I came to be sitting in Martin's front room wearing this wrap style dress, it had felt and looked lovely on the hanger, but now it was on me I was having second thoughts about this burgundy delight. My doubts were not helped by Martin's insistence that I wore underwear that matched the dress, a D cup satin bra ( bigger than my own, but a norm for Julie), knickers with laces at the side and worst of all stockings and suspenders which might easily show when the dress gapped at the front. Off course I had the obligatory heels, well made up face with lips reflecting the dress colour, he lent me a nice long dark haired wig and made me wear long glue on nail extension, something I rarely did as they make me feel so awkward, off course they were painted burgundy as well.

I sat there working out how to stop the dress from exposing my stocking tops, Martin watching as he stood in the doorway with my second glass of wine in his hand, red naturally.
'I have booked a taxi, should be here in ten minutes, do you want a wrap or something?'
'A wrap please' I could drape it across my knees if need be I thought.
He returned with a black silk pashmina and a few extras. Jewellery, I hardly ever wore it so had not realised it was missing. A long necklace that nestled between my breasts, a chandelier in each ear, a small watch with a chunky bangle on the other wrist, but then he picked out a diamond looking ring, tried it on my fingers for a fit and when it slide perfectly onto my third finger left hand, he just smiled 'Welcome Mrs Martin Butterworth, I am sure I have a plain ring to go with that' all I could manage was a strangled, what. Not only was I dressed how he wanted me to look, but it now looked as if I was married to him.

There was a car horn outside 'Come along dear, that will be our taxi'
'Right behind you darling, your missus is following her man' a quick look in the hall mirror to check everything was fine then out the door. I had done this many times before, stepping outside in a dress, but this time I felt more vulnerable than I remembered as I regained my heel walking gait.

Five minutes and we were being dropped near Churchill's, a short walk to a nice chinese and time to relax. my legs were under the table so the exposing thighs did not bother me. We chatted rather like any other time, work, family, politics whatever. The meal over we called in at a bar to see if any friends were about, being unsuccessful there we tried another and found two trannies we had seen before and three camp gay boys who were always good for a giggle. They all wanted to know why the role reversal, and all pronounced me the best looking girl out that night. When one of the gay boys noticed the wedding ring he said something about it, I made a joke about how it had been a quickie Las Vegas marriage, but what happened next was most surprising. Martin took my hand and told everyone how I was now Mrs Butterworth and taking to being his wife well. I was about to say 'What?' but as my mouth opened he kissed me full on the lips.

It was only quick but the impact was immense. 'We need to talk' I said 'Over there' pointing to an empty corner. The kiss had not been the first, as Julie and Lauran we had often hugged and kissed but in a girlie sort of way, that kiss had been sexual. I was still reeling when we made it to the corner, Martin leading the way keeping hold of my hand. The kiss had been totally unexpected but that was not to say unpleasant, so as the shock wore off I wanted to know where it came from and if Martin was planning anything else. A quick discussion about the kiss which went something like, 'you could have warned me,' 'your face was a picture' I bet it was' did you like it?' 'not sure' 'let's try it again then' and before I knew it his tongue was playing with mine, only this time it was not a quick raid more like conquest. He was a good kisser and I never knew, but then why should I?

Having had our words in the corner we returned to our friends who were giggling and making comments like 'thought you were just good friends'. The evening continued, Martin treating me like his partner instead of a mate. Holding hands, arm around my waist, while I responded by linking his arm as we walked between bars. This was turning into a memorable evening, that got even more memorable when we decided to dance at Napoleons. At first I did not notice but the dance floor has mirrors all round so it was not long before I realised that the lights were doing something to my clothing, I forget why this happens but the fabric of the dress did not block the light and everyone could see my underwear in glorious vivid detail. I was off the floor in a nano second, and finding a chair, (they have high bar stools there,) I sat down only to have my dress part across my thighs. Martin was right behind me 'Sorry did not expect that', then stood in front of me between my knees and kissed me once more. 'You do look hot though'
'I feel hot as well' I replied 'the blush is still burning I think'
He leaned in for another kiss while at the same time placing a hand on my bare exposed upper legs. 'I mean hot as in you are making lots of blokes here hot. Why not flaunt it, you have the body to do it' and with that he gave me another french kiss while his fingers played with my suspender clips. No man had ever kissed me this way, it had always been a disappointing grope and fumble followed by a request for a blow job, which if I am honest rather put me off men and wanting to attract one.

He managed to get me back onto the dance floor when slower tunes were played, I even commented that I was his anyway, I wore a wedding ring, and the fabric on the dress at my wrists and neck stood out like the underwear did making it look as though I had a collar and wide handcuffs on. He joked that wives sometimes vowed to obey so maybe he should get some real handcuffs etc. I had to laugh, as this was something neither of us had any inclination for and as for Martin being domineering, well I just laughed.

The night ended with a taxi back to Martin's where we found half a bottle of wine needing to be finished, so curled up beside him on the settee listening to some chill music.Our wine gone.
'Did you enjoy yourself tonight?' Martin asked
'Yes I did, thank you.' and I snuggled further into his arm that was wrapped over my shoulder.
'I think we have found another side to the quiet Lauran'
'I think we have' I noticed the dress had parted once more and this time I made no attempt to cover the exposed stocking top and nearly visible panties.
'Did you like being my wife then?'
'After the initial shock'
'Meaning?'
'Well the rings, the comments, the kiss etc'
'If you think that shocking, how about this?....... Mrs Butterworth, as you know I have only one bed, you have drunk too much to drive home, so how about we go to bed together'
I was keeping up with idea of stopping so asked 'together?'
'Well you would not expect husband and wife to sleep separately on their first night'
'Well no'
'And as you know I do have some lovely sleepwear'
'Middle drawer I think'
'That is right'
I gave him a kiss and took his hand off my thigh.

I did get to wear a nightie to sleep in that night, but not before I had asked Martin to unfasten the dress, then as it hit the floor we kissed and ended up on the bed. The stockings provided easy access to my hole once the knickers were pulled to one side. My man got to satisfy his carnal desires. I got to feeling sore, but happy I had been there for him. I woke in the morning wearing a pink satin baby doll outfit more than satisfied with my performance as Mrs Butterworth.

Still in the nightwear, over breakfast I was asked if I would be going out as Lauran more often. I asked when Mr Butterworth would like to take his bride out next. We just smiled and he said 'Soon'