Genesis of a Contented Housewife

Sylvia sat in a hardback folding chair with her face towards the bright sun, enjoying the warm spring afternoon. She was generally at peace with the world as she had just enjoyed a delightful lunch and had had the opportunity to renew her friendship with an old and dear friend. She was feeling mellow, aided by three glasses of a gold medal-winning California Chardonnay.

She found herself musing back about the times she and Mary had enjoyed in college. They were almost inseparable back then, closer than two sisters. She had been Mary’s protector, counselor, even her bodyguard, being a tall athletic woman, a star on the school’s track team as a shot putter. Her hostess for the afternoon approached her table. Politely clearing her throat to get the guest’s attention she asked, in a husky voice. “Excuse me Miss Sylvia. Was everything satisfactory?”

Squinting into the afternoon sun, Sylvia could just distinguish the silhouette of a woman. Shading her eyes with her hand she could make out the woman was dressed in an attractive white short sleeve A-line dress decorated with randomly printed sunflowers. She identified her questioner as the person Mary had introduced her to when she arrived. Astonishingly, it was an old school time acquaintance that she hadn’t recognized immediately. With a smirk on her face, Sylvia sarcastically replied, “No, actually it wasn’t satisfactory.”

Then, with a grin as wide as the Grand Cannon, she went on, “In fact, the meal was scrumptious, the setting lovely. Thank you Alicia, I have had a wonderful time, and you have been a very gracious hostess.”

Ali blushed at the compliment and nodded in appreciation and gave her guest a slight bob, suggestive of a half curtsey.

Sylvia gave her hostess a Cheshire cat grin and related her jubilant feelings, “Reuniting with Mary, my old sorority sister, combined with this scrumptious meal has made it a perfect day.”

Ali then added, “I am so happy to hear that. Any friend of Mary’s will always be welcome in our home.”

“Thank you for your hospitality and inviting me to your lovely home. You have made me feel special, not like an old forgotten friend.

“Forgive me for being direct. You no longer resemble the old Tom I knew. There have been some drastic changes to your appearance since the last time we ran into each other. It seems to me that you have turned into a walking, talking Barbie Doll.”

“Yes, I remember it well. It was at my wedding. I hope my new appearance doesn’t make you uncomfortable.”

Smiling gleefully, Sylvia continued, “No, not at all. It took me a minute to realize that the person who I met at the front door was really Tom, not a woman. I admit it’s a bit of a shock. I was expecting to run into her masculine husband, Tom. Not a man calling himself Alicia and in full makeup and a dress. Silly me, I always thought a dress was a garment worn only by women. Whatever happened to the man that married Mary?”

Ali looked down at his wife’s old roommate. With a great deal of effort, he tried to appear unperturbed at having his masculinity challenged. He managed to keep a sincere smile on his face. “Sylvia, pull in the claws. I can assure you that, under this dress, Tom is still the man he always was. The way a package is decorated, doesn’t change what is under the wrappings. The Tom you knew has just traded his old drab lifestyle for something more colorful.”

Sylvia smiled and commented, “I don’t mean to sound glib. You say colorful, I say flamboyant, but the results are the same. In my eyes, the man I knew has been replaced by a cross-dressed sissy.”

Sylvia then locked eyes with the girly man, determined to get her jibe in before Tom could defend himself. “I guess the question is if are you comfortable looking like you belong on the cover of McCall's rather than GQ?”

After a soft snicker, the reply was, “As Tom, I was never into fashion. To me, formal attire was jeans and a clean t-shirt. As Alicia, fashion has taken a much more dominant place in my life. My lifestyle has changed, for the better. Now I dress to please myself. I am psychologically comfortable, if not physically. Being laced into a corset and wearing heels has its physical challenges.”

“Tom, I can’t understand what the hell you are playacting at. If it truly makes Mary happy, I couldn’t give a shit about your mental welfare, you can come out wearing a tutu and singing Rigoletto for all I care. Despite your claim that there is still a man under the dress. It looks to me that your balls have gone the way of the dodo.”

Tom smiled through the tears of shame as he responded, “Let’s cut through the bullshit. You never approved of me marrying your best friend. The status of my nuts is none of your business. You aren’t concerned about me or my comfort. The bottom line is I am happy and think I make Mary happy.

“For Mary’s sake, let’s try to be civil to each other. Please call me Ali, everyone else does. We were friends a long time ago, I hope we can be again.”

Sylvia calmly answered, “You’re right I never thought Tom was the right for my best friend.”

Tom responded, “Please consider the possibility, that Tom’s replacement, Alicia, is good for Mary.”

Sylvia addressed Tom in a condescending manner. “Hey pansy boy. Call yourself anything and wear whatever you want. It’s no skin off my nose. But let me warn you, I better never hear that you have hurt my Mary.”

“Sylvia, there are very few certainties in this world. I give you my word though. I will dedicate my like to ensure Mary’s happiness. I love her more than anything.”

Sylvia caustically replied, “Whatever you say Alicia.. I’m sure having her husband in a dress is everything Mary dreamed about growing up.”

Not wanting to continue the conversation further, Silvia placed her napkin on the table and stood to leave. Being six feet tall in her stocking feet and wearing heels made Sylvia an imposing presence.

Mary showed up at her side, “You don’t have to run off Sylvia, we haven’t had a chance to catch up. Let me walk you out.”

Sylvia took Mary’s arm and walked with her through the beautiful flower garden, “Okay Mary, I can’t tell you how happy I was to discover you live here. I’m new to the area. I just rented a place that isn’t far away. Unfortunately, my job took me to DC after graduation. That was where I was stuck for the last 13 years and I hated it. When I had a chance to take an assignment back in the Midwest, I jumped at it. Then, when I was talking to our sorority sister Gloria, she told me where you lived and I was doubly delighted. I’m just renting until I can buy some place closer to my job.”

Mary smiled and replied, “I’m happy to see you. When we were in school, we were roommates. I’ve missed you. I remember all those nights we spent sharing confidences. I need your advice and guidance. I’m facing the biggest crisis of my life.”

Sylvia glanced over to where Ali was starting to clean up and snidely commented, “I can see that, he is standing right over there. Where did the name Alicia come from?”

“I have no idea, it just popped out of his mouth. It's feminine and fits a prissy man that wants to dress like a woman. I have not asked him to change it, since it fits him so well.”

“Your Tom isn’t how I remembered him. When you first introduced Alicia, I was clueless at first as to who it was. It is funny how the mind works, you see someone with long hair, wearing makeup, and outfitted in a dress with a womanly figure, the mind tells you it is a female. Unless something seems out of place your mind just assumes it’s a woman. In Ali’s case, it was his voice when he said hello. It forced me to closely scrutinize her face. It took me a minute to realize that it was Tom under all the makeup and feminine finery. My first reaction was to jump up and laugh in his face. When I saw you were serious and this wasn’t a joke, I controlled myself. Forgive me for saying this, I find it amusing that your husband is more presentable as a woman than he ever was as a man.

Mary suppressed a giggle, “That’s no exaggeration. In his feminine state, he is more appealing to look at. Tom never turned heads. Ali, on the other hand, may not be a 10 in the looks department, but she has class and draws attention, like a flower draws bees.

“I admit that I never saw my husband as being the super-macho type. At first, seeing him bedecked in frocks and jewelry, weirded me out. His early efforts at dressing were almost comical. I could only look at Ali and see Tom in a dress. However, as he improved his makeup skills and his feminine deportment and mannerisms, Tom has simply faded into the background. I only see Ali now. When he puts his best foot forward, he can present as a reasonably good-looking woman.

“I never thought I would get accustomed to him being in dresses. After a while it became the norm, now I don’t think anything about it. When he makes an effort to present as a feminine, he can bring out the inner woman. His body is in proportion, being trim where it is expected and full where it is needed. His face is cute too, especially with makeup. Over the months, he has trained his voice so now his speech is light, almost lilting, with a sweet feminine sound to it. It isn’t perfect but it’s headed in the right direction.

“It didn’t happen overnight though. He’s worked hard to get where he is now. As his femininity blossomed, his feminine traits came out. He can cook, clean, and apply makeup as well as any woman I know. I’m quite contented at the flower of womanhood my man has turn out to be. When I look on Ali, I see no sign of Tom, now all I see is a delightful looking woman. If I look hard enough, I can still find Tom behind all the makeup. But why make the effort? I’m comfortable with Ali acting like the lady of the house.”

Sylvia shook her head in disbelief and said, “Huh, what did you say?”

“Don’t give me that, I didn’t mumble. My husband wears dresses and looks good in them and I am fine with it.”

Sylvia was appalled at that and inquired, “You’ve changed. When was the last time we were together? You are not the woman I remember. She was the one that mocked any guy who was the least bit unmanly.”

“I have grown since then. What can I say?”

Sylvia thought back, “We were last together at your wedding to Tom when he looked like a man. As a couple you were a knockout while Tom was just a deceit looking guy. To be honest all of your friends thought Tom married out of his league. Looking at him now, it is evident he was playing in a completely different league, a coed one.”

As the two women reached the spiral staircase leading up to the bedrooms, Sylvia pulled up short and looked around to make sure Tom could not hear. “Forgive me for being blunt. You married a man named Tom but when I arrived, you introduced him dressed as a woman and called him Ali, without an explanation. That blew my mind. If I hadn’t known Tom so well, I never in a million years would have thought that vision of womanhood that greeted me was a man.”

Mary apologized, “You’re right, I should have said something. I forget sometimes, everyone in my circle is familiar with Tom’s situation.

Give me a chance and I’ll explain it to you. His evolution from Tom to Ali is the crux of what I need to talk to you about. At school, you were the one all of us went to with problems. Like when Sue got pregnant, Daisy when she caught her boyfriend cheating, and Liz when she was accused of cheating in class. You were our go to person. I desperately need your advice because my world is about to come crashing down on me.”

Sylvia nodded in recognition, “It must be an interesting story. How in the world did you force a skirt chasing, cigar smoking, beer guzzling macho guy to dress look and act like a stereotypical middle-aged woman? My lord, look at him out there. He looks like he just came from a photo shoot for Redbook magazine. Having your man come out as gay or in transition would be devasting to any woman. I am not sure how I can help. What’s the most surprising to me is that he seems happy playing the role of a sissy hostess. I’m not sure what he is playing at.”

Mary glanced back at where her husband was doing cleanup. “Her mannerisms show nothing of the man she was just a year ago. She has become a beautiful, graceful, lady. Always well dressed in stylish outfits, her hair and makeup always right for the occasion, she has the talent of a chef, the efficiency a CEO could only hope for in his firm and keeps house better than a hotel full of maids. Yes, you’re right he is…. Let me find the right word, he is contented, at playing the part of my *wife*!”

Sylvia about chocked, “What the fuck did you just say?” She immediately tried to back-pedal. “Sorry about that! My comment wasn’t intended to be judgmental it was more an expression of shock.”

“Please let me finish." Mary said curtly. Yes, I did say wife, Tom traded in his man card for an apron. That is what this is all about. But, you have it all wrong, there was no force, blackmail or revenge on my part. This unnatural situation is all Tom’s idea.”

That seemed to baffle Sylvia and confusion showed on her face. She sat with rapt attention.

Mary, decided to explain, “It’s a bit complicated. I admit my marriage is not based on traditional roles. It started that way until a year ago. When it changed, it was at his request not mine. I’ll explain it all to you, let’s go upstairs to my bedroom we can talk in private, it’s off limits to Ali without invitation so we won’t be disturbed.”

Sylvia watched Ali clearing the dishes from the luncheon. With his perfect carriage and short, almost mincing, steps all the while carrying a load of dishes into the kitchen, he could have been a waitress in any restaurant. Then she watched him heading back out to the garden with almost a skip to his step. “Did you pick out that dress for him? It’s adorable, I would love to get one just like it.”

“No. Sorry, I have no idea where it came from. He bought that himself when I told him I would be hosting the Garden Club meeting today. He also selected his accessorizes. In fact, his entire ensemble is all him. He really has exquisite taste for a man.”

Sylvia smiled and added. “I love the daisy earnings he is wearing. When did he get his ears pierced? I remember him in college mocking the guys with pierced ears as being gay.”

“That was almost a year ago. He started out wearing clip-ons. After a long day of wearing clip-ons, he found they were painful. Getting his ears pierced was the only option and he explained that it is much more fashionable and gives him an extensive variety to choose from.”

“That makes sense there is also a lot more variety of pierced ones. In fact, in my opinion his entire outfit is a dream,” confessed Sylvia.

I can understand wanting to be fashionable. But, for heaven’s sake why does he wear stilettos to serve an outdoor event? That is just crazy, it seems to be way over the top.”

“I agree but that is his decision. In my opinion he has some kind of obsession with stilettos, he seems to equate them with femineity. At first, he had a hard time walking like a woman. He found high heels forced him to stride in a feminine manner. Now he wears them all the time.”

Sylvia looking over her shoulder took one last peek at Ali, “Watching him, I’ll admit they do make his legs look fantastic. Personally, I wouldn’t dare wear those on uneven ground. Yet he seems to be fearless and handles them effortlessly.”

They were interrupted by the sound of breaking glass. Turning, they saw that Ali had overloaded a tray and that a wine glass had fallen onto the patio concrete. Placing the tray on a nearby table, Ali squatted like a proper lady and picked up the shards of glass. He stood and straightened out his skirt, drawing attention to how he was dressed. He retrieved the tray and headed in through the patio door.

Mary marveled at his graceful movements and said, “Yes, his bearing comes with practice. He only wears high heels, which accentuates his famine demeaner. Stilettos are his shoes of choice. He wears them every day. I can’t remember ever seeing Ali without them. I don’t believe he owns anything else.”

Sylvia was having a hard time believing what she was hearing, so she questioned, “He doesn’t complain? That would be a nightmare for most woman who grew up in heels.”

“Not hardly! He is proud of the fact he can wear heels all day long without displaying any discomfort. He doesn’t take them off even when we are relaxing watching television. Even after a long day in heels he still walks around the house effortlessly.”

“Well, your husband has a good sense of style. I know a lot of women who could take lessons from him. He fills out that dress nicely. It highlights his new figure. I remember a Tom with love-handles and a bit of a beer gut. Now his midriff would be the envy of a Miss Universe contestant. My lord, I can’t even guess how slim it is.”

“Yes, my Ali is rather proud of his figure. Girlfriend, things are not always as they seem. His curves are not all natural. He has some natural deficiencies. They were addressed through the use of some serious shapewear and silicone padding. It has taken him months of dieting and exercises to get those Kardashian curves. In fact, he can be a bit of a showoff. Everything he owns features nipped-in waists. Without the corset, his waist today is close to 28 inches. I believe his measurements, with the aid of shape wear and some serious padding is 35-25-37. Just between us girls, that is only possible because of a heavily boned corset.”

Sylvia’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “A corset? I haven’t heard of anyone man or woman wearing those anymore.”

“Well, you have now. My Ali wears one all the time except bathing. He even sleeps in one, believing it will help to permanently create a womanlier figure.”

Sylvia looked on with envy, wishing her figure were like his. It just wasn’t natural that a man could have the dimensions of a playmate. She thoughtfully replied, “Okay living in New York, I am very familiar with ‘guys’ who get their jollies off by dressing as girls. In fact, on Friday and Saturday nights in the Village there is one literally working on every street corner. They live by what I called the ‘too much’ philosophy. They use too much makeup and their fashions show too much skin. Their mannerisms are too flamboyant and outrageously campy. The one thing they all had in common was too much on their chests. With supersized tits, it’s as if they were in a competition on which one could have the most outrageous figure. They tend to dress more to impress than to pass as an authentic woman. It seems to me that their view of women is distorted. They think that the bigger the boobs, the more feminine they are. When all it does is make them appear freakishly oversized.

Mary thought back over the last year and replied, “Since my Ali has shown up, I have never observed a single incident of Tom acting foppish. What you described doesn’t define my husband. He obviously has adopted a feminine facade. But what you saw today was the girl I see every day. Say what you want, Ali may be an effeminate man underneath, but externally always conducts himself as a refined and proper lady.”

Sylvia nodded her head in agreement. “I agree, your husband doesn’t fit that mold. From my brief contact with Tom, his disguise has an aura of femininity, not a man hiding under a dress. His makeup if anything is understated. His selection of breast size is also unpretentious. His breasts are a moderate size for any woman, especially one with broad shoulders like he has. He could easily go up one, even two, cup sizes and still be within the bounds of normalcy.

“It’s like he wants to blend in rather than stand out. Granted the tallness of his heels pushes his height to the limits of believability. If I remember right, he is about your height at about five and a half feet tall. That’s not very tall, for a man or a woman, so the added height of the heels makes him look like a tall woman. I do question his motivation on the way he presents himself. It doesn’t fit the stereotype of a cross dresser. Granted it is a small sample size but, watching him today I only saw a prim and proper female.”

Mary beamed at the compliments her friend was lavishing on her husband. She added, “Living with Ali on a day-to-day basis, I would hate to disparage her fashion sense. If I had to put a word on her day-to-day style selection, it would be somber rather than outlandish.”

Sylvia commented, “His outfit today is anything but drab.”

Mary went on, “Don’t get me wrong, when my Ali wants to put on the ritz, she can be exceptionally attractive, maybe not gorgeous, but still glamorous. There is only so much Tom can do with her manly face, but that doesn’t stop her from dressing for the part of a lady.”

Sylvia smiled at that. This was more in line with her preconceived notion of transvestites. “Go on Mary. Now you have my attention. You used the feminine pronoun. That begs the question is he still your husband?”

That question caught Mary off guard she eventually replied. “That is NOT a Yes or No question. If you have the time, come up to my bedroom and we will discuss it.”

Sylvia noticed Ali was still outside clearing tables, “Shouldn’t we help him clen up? He has been on his feet serving for hours.”

“Heavens no, she will take care of that. I haven’t cleared a table or done a dish in almost a year. Not to brag I haven’t done any domestic chores in that time. That is Ali’s sole domain.”

That got a raised eyebrow response from Sylvia. As she followed Mary up the wide spiral staircase to the master bedroom, Sylvia had a million questions swirling around her head. As they entered the bedroom, Sylvia was amazed at how totally feminine the décor was. There was no sign of a man’s touch anywhere. This only deepened her bewilderment.

Mary sat on a settee covered with throw pillows and tossed two on the floor to make room for her friend. She patted the seat next to her.

Sylvia sat and waited for her friend to tell her what the hell was going on.

Mary took a deep breath before trying to explain a relationship that was unexplainable.

“Is Tom my husband? That depends! Are we legally married? Yes. However, if you ask Tom, he’ll more than likely tell you we are married, yet he no longer is acting as my husband. He currently views himself as my wife.”

“Now hold on Mary are you playing with my head?”

“That’s not my intention. Let me start at the beginning.”

@ @ @ @

“Almost exactly a year ago I came home from work. I had just received news that day. I’d been promoted to a supervisory position which brought with it a significant pay raise. To say I was in a good mood was a gross understatement. I was surprised to find Tom home in the kitchen cooking dinner. As I walked in, I told him to stop what he was doing we were going out to dinner. He objected saying, “I am almost done can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

“No, it can’t. I’ve already made reservations. Go put on your best suit.”

“Come on Mary, I just got out of one. You know how much I hate wearing a coat and tie.”

“I don’t give a damn about that. Just do what I asked, if for no other reason than it will make me happy.”

He complied, if reluctantly, and 45 minutes later we were sitting at table in Chez Elle, probably the best and most expensive restaurant for a hundred miles around. Poor Tom was about to have a nervous breakdown after he noticed the prices on the menu. When I ordered a $500 bottle of wine, he turned pale. “Mary we can’t afford this, it’s not in our budget.”

I told him, “Tom don’t worry about that, I have it covered.”

“How? We bought more house than we could afford, because you wanted to live in the snooty neighborhood. We barely had enough money in the checking account to cover last month’s mortgage.”

I took a large sip of the pricey wine, “That is what this celebratory dinner is all about. Today I was promoted to manager for all new construction in our company’s southeastern region. It comes with a huge pay raise commensurate with my new responsibilities. That is just one step below vice president.”

Tom seemed happy if not delirious he merely said, “Congratulations! That’s wonderful!”

“No honey, it’s beyond wonderful, it’s the highlight of my life’s work so far. Working in construction has always been my dream. As a small child when the other girls were playing house with dolls, I was building houses with blocks. Then in high school my friends were taking home economics. The very thought of that made me sick. I was enrolled in Calculus. For my senior elective I took drafting.”

Then with a wicked grin I asked. “What was it you took Tom?”

He meekly replied, “I had all the required courses I needed, so I took an art class. I guess I wasn’t as motivated as you.”

I leaned in close and got into his face, “My point is that my entire life has pointed to this moment in time. I have worked my ass off to get where I’m at today. Now I’m going to be working twice as hard to prove I deserve my promotion. So, you are going to have to pick up the slack around the house.”

His reaction was very muted, “I’m glad you have the recognition you deserve. The money will be nice but I am concerned about the stress on you that all this new work will put on you.”

Sylvia interjected, “That is great. There can’t be many women in supervisory position in the construction industry.”

“Yes, I’m the first in my company. Not everyone under me, particularly some of the older foremen, are not happy about my position, but I can manage those Neanderthals.”

@ @ @ @

“It was about a week later when my world got turned upside down.

I got home an hour later than normal. I asked Tom to make me a drink, I needed to relax. When Tom joined me, unexpectedly he sat across from me rather than next to me. That raised my hackles. He raised his drink and took a large swallow.”

“Which reminds me I should have asked if you want something to drink. I can have Ali bring you something?”

“No, I’m fine. Go on with your story.”

@ @ @ @

“Where was I? Oh yes, I was telling you we were sitting facing each other both bursting with good news. He told me to go first. I knew I would get a pay raise but had no idea how large it was until HR called me in to sign my new employment contract. In addition to my salary, I was eligible for bonuses, I would get a percentage of the profit of every project I bring in under budget.”

“I naturally anticipated a joyous reaction from him. Since we would no longer have money problems. He took the news rather stoically. ‘I guess we won’t have to worry about such mundane things like finances,’ he commented nonchalantly.”

Sylvia was incensed. “That was just his machismo showing through. I bet he was feeling less of a man because of his wife’s success.”

“No, you’re wrong, it was nothing like that!”

“In his mind my news was insignificant to his. He had been contacted by a lawyer that very morning. The solicitor had some bad news for him. Tom had on old Aunt, his only living relative that had just died. Tom was named beneficiary of her estate. To his utter surprise it contained a significant portfolio of stocks and bonds, worth millions of dollars. Tom grieved for all of 15 minutes, before the ramification of what her death meant. He took the afternoon off and brought all the papers to a financial manager. After analyzing the documents, the manager informed Tom, his aunt was a shrewd investor. That without touching the principle the dividends and interest from the estate will produce an annual income well into six figures. Which is three times his current annual salary. That added to my salary would set us up for life.

“Tom knows he is not corporate executive material and has no real future in his company. He hates what he does and has always viewed it as a job, not a career. So, he walked into his boss and quit, effective immediately.”

Sylvia said, “That sounds great, but how does that get him into dresses and high heels?”

“That is the essence of my narrative. Let me get back to what spawned Ali.”

@ @ @ @

“Tom paused there and took a long pull on his drink. He made eye contact with me and pursed his lips. He took a deep breath and started. “Honey, now that we don’t have to worry about money, your salary plus my windfall makes us set for life. Knowing how important your job is to you. Am I right you intend to keep working?”

“You bet your sweet bippy I do!”

“That is what I thought so I have something I want to propose to you. Please don’t say anything until I’m finished.”

Pausing there Mary turned to her friend, “Sylvia let me tell you there were a hundred of possible scenarios going through my head, none of them were positive for me. I was braced for almost anything. I sat up and drained almost half of my drink, steeling myself for what was to come. I nodded to Tom to encourage him to go on. What he proposed to me, was nothing I could ever have imagined.

He waited for me to say something so I promised, “Okay dear. I guarantee to keep my lips sealed.”

Sylvia sat with rapt attention during Mary’s story, nodding her head knowingly to encourage her friend to go on.

“Well, he seemed to be having a hard time looking me in the eyes. Eventually, he articulated his news by saying, ‘Let me start with, this is all about me, it has nothing to do with anything you did or didn’t do. I love you and always will until the day I die. I can’t explain or justify what I am about to ask, I think this will be the best solution for us.’

“He sat there with perspiration running down his face. Fortified by the rest of his drink he went on, ‘Well here it is honey. I quit my job today and don’t want to seek outside employment.’

“I nodded my head showing I had no issues with that. Then things became crazy. I’m talking Twilight Zone bizarre.”

‘Honey I would like to try on a temporary basis to exchange places with you.’

“I was bewildered by his proposal. It must have showed on my face because he went on to explain. ‘I will be the housewife, with all that entails!’

“I was stunned and wasn’t sure I’d heard him right. Despite the absurdity of his request, his sincerity was quite evident. I said the first thing that popped into my head. It was a question.

“If you’re the wife, and this is some role reversal game, where does that leave me? I know the magic has long ago disappeared from our marriage, but this is just ridiculous. If you envision me walking around here smoking a pipe, guzzling beer and watching sports you’re off your rocker. That ain’t happening buster.”

He obviously hadn’t thought through my position in this social experiment. After a few thoughtful minutes he managed to get out, “Mary, you can take any role you feel comfortable with. How about we just try you being the head of the household? With me taking over all the domestic chores, that will free you up to concentrate on your job.”

@ @ @ @

“I tell you Sylvia you could have knocked me over with a feather.”

“I didn’t say anything just sat there with my mouth open, unsure I heard him correctly.

Noticing my silence, he went on trying to elaborate on his ridiculous plan. He was a little calmer and continued.” ‘Please don’t get me wrong. This isn’t some kinky wish to be your maid, your servant, or any kind of slave or even me being a househusband. I will act as your wife out of love, not fear or necessity. I just want to do everything a wife does for her partner, which includes more than being your domestic servant.’

He paused, so I had to ask, “What do you mean by everything? I assume wearing my clothes is part of your dumb ass scheme.”

He almost seemed proud of his answer, ‘Yes, obviously that would be a part of my being the woman of the house.’

I about leapt out of my seat, “I’m not a lesbian as the supposed man of the house. I will never allow you to share my bed while you’re pretending to be a woman!”

A look of disappointment crossed his face, but he quickly recovered and made me a commitment, ‘Alright I can accept that stipulation. Sex is off the table. I’ll never ask or expect us to consummate this marriage with me in the female role.’

“He paused to catch his breath and continued. ‘Aside from the sexual aspect, I will do everything else a wife is expected to do in a household. I will run all your errands, do the meal planning, the shopping, the cooking, ironing, meal cleanup, laundry, house cleaning, and will keep the household accounts. I will treat you with the deference any woman shows her mate and will do anything I can to help and support you to advance your career.’

“Tom if this is a joke I’m not laughing.”

“No dear, I’m deadly serious!”

“I was taken back by the strength of his declaration so I probed to see how firmly he wanted this inverted relationship. “What if I asked you to be a hostess and entertain, my friends or business associates?”

‘I would be happy to do that for you.’

“Just great I can see it now. you show up wearing a dress you found at goodwill and do your own makeup looking like a clown. It all comes out with you looking like some comical impersonation of a woman?”

‘No absolutely not! I would never disrespect women that way. I give you my word if I am to present as a female I will be as believable and respectable as possible. Not some campy drag queen.’

“He smiled and went on. ‘As the hostess I would think that a dress would be the most appropriate attire. I would be honored to serve in that capacity and try my hardest to make you proud of me.’

Sylvia couldn’t keep quiet any longer. “Oh, my goodness, from what I witnessed downstairs you agreed to his proposition.”

“I did eventually. I didn’t say yes right away. I put him off for a couple of days while I thought about it and its ramifications. I still hoped it was some sick joke, that would go away.”

Mary, paused and shifted her position to look Sylvia squarely in the eyes, figuring she could get a better read on her friend’s true reaction to what else she was about to divulge.

“Sylvia, it was the longest two days of my life. Seeking more information on what exactly he was asking. He had said he wanted to do this on a trial basis. We talked about that first off. He started out talking weeks and then months. I tried to scare him off by stipulating, ‘If we were to do this, and turn our worlds upside down it had to be a real test.’ I demanded the trial period be at least a full year. I was sure that would make him reconsider this ludicrous proposal. Can you imagine any normal man agreeing to wear dresses, heels and makeup for a year just to help his wife’s career?”

“No Mary I can’t see any man doing that. The key word there is normal. Your husband needs a good therapist.”

“I’m sure that’s the truth, but that’s a discussion best left for another time. He obviously took my demand seriously. It took him more than two days to make a decision. As you can deduct from what you saw downstairs, he agreed to the extended trial period.”

“At that point I was exasperated. I tried to test Tom’s resolve by putting him in embarrassing situations. I told Tom I would consider his suggestion ‘IF’ he could prove to me, he was serious about this perverse plan.”

Sylvia started to squirm in her seat, “This is sounding juicy. What humiliating things did you have the little fag do?”

“The first thing I required him to do. You won’t believe this. I told him he had to make an appointment with a doctor, and I was specific it had to be with an OB-GYN doctor and request oral contraceptives.”

Sylvia giggled politely. Mary went on with her tale of woe. “Tom was shocked, he questioned my demand, ‘You want me to get birth control pills, for heaven’s sake why?’

“I thought I had him on the ropes I went on, ‘Not only will you procure them, you take one tablet every day for the entire year just like every other woman who wants to avoid pregnancy. I certainly don’t want any wife of mine coming down with an unexpected pregnancy. That would scandalize the entire neighborhood. Just think what it would do to my reputation.”

Sylvia reached out and rested her hand on Mary’s, “I can’t imagine any man going to an OB-GYN for any reason. Can you picture him in the waiting room with all those expecting mothers? I would have loved to be a fly on the wall for that. What did he give as a reason for wanting the pills?”

“I have no idea, I never asked. But son of a bitch, when I got home from work the next night there sitting on the table near the front door was a 28-day pack of birth control pills. And even more shockingly they were resting atop the scrip for 11 refills.”

Sylvia pulled her friend into a hug. “Honey what did you do next? This is really getting thought-provoking. Why did you ever marry Tom anyway?”

“Oh, for the same reason any woman does, I loved him.”

“Loved? Do you still love him?”

Mary had to stop and think about that for a few seconds. “Yes, I guess I do. Not in the same way as before. But in my heart, he still has a special place. Obviously, the past 12 months has changed the way I look at him.”

“Okay what did you do next? asked an inquisitive Sylvia.

“My next challenge required Mr. Macho to swallow his masculine pride in a public venue.

I demanded that he, as TOM go to a nail salon and get a set of salon acrylics nails, with a French tip nail finish. Oh, and to further mortify him I also demanded they be glamor length.”

Sylvia grinned at that. “My lord, nails like that would be difficult to manage.”

“It can’t be that hard, she has worn nothing else ever since.”

Sylvia gasped, “I noticed them today, but assumed they were just for special occasions.”

“No like wearing high heels, the long nails are an everyday thing.”

“So, what was his next challenge?”

“I told him the ladies of the neighborhood were all going shopping on Saturday, if he was going to be my wife, he would have to be the hostess when I had friends over. This would be a good time to introduce my friends to the new girl on the block. He would have to throw a diner party for every woman in the neighborhood and do so openly as the hostess.”

A grinning Sylvia said, “That sounds like it would be the ultimate challenge to his manhood.”

“I thought so, if he wants to play the part of being a woman, I wasn’t going to let him hide in the house for a year. He was going to come all the way out of his closet into the sunshine.”

“So, what happened?”

“You won’t believe this. There were seven of us from the community that went out that morning. We spent the entire day at the mall shopping. I invited them all over for dinner. Shamefully, I gave them a heads up on what to expect when we got to my house. You won’t believe what we found, I lived it and still can’t comprehend what I found.”

Mary paused. “Hang on! I need a drink before I go on, are you sure you wouldn’t like one?”

Sylvia blinked, as if a spell had been broken. “I’ve changed my mind. I could use a stiff drink.”

Mary walked to the top of the stairs and called down, “Ali, would you please bring a couple of margaritas up to my bedroom.”

After hearing Ali acknowledge the request, Mary resumed her seat next to her friend.

Sylvia was a bit bewildered, “Why did you ask Ali and say please? Isn’t Ali your servant?”

“No dear. You have missed the point of our relationship. Ali and I are a couple. In the sense that I treat her with respect just like I would if she was really my wife. I know that sounds strange. What she does for me is out of love, not fear or a sense of subservience. Although she does let me have the last word on all decisions. Not out of some perverse desire to be a sub, more as an extension of how she views her role as my wife.”

There was a light tapping on the bedroom door as Ali called out, “Mary I have your cocktails, I know you didn’t mention it but I added some munchies, nothing fancy, just some cheese and crackers. May I come in?”

“Certainly, thanks, please bring them in.” Ali put the tray down between the two women. She gave them both a genuine smile. “If there is anything else I can do. Please, just ask.”

He turned to leave and stopped at the door, “Miss Sylvia, will you be staying for dinner? It is such a lovely day. I had planned on grilling steaks.”

“No thank you Ali, I have imposed on your hospitality enough for one day.”

Mary munched on a Hors D’oeuvre and took a sip of her sweet drink before getting back to her account of the dinner party.

“As I was saying. All of us walked in the unlocked front door unannounced, “I called out ‘Lucy I’m home.’ I thought it was hilarious, but I guess I was the only one who was a fan of the old I love Lucy TV shows. As we bunched up at the front entrance, we were greeted with a delightful smell of our dinner cooking.

Then there was a call, “I’m in the dining room.” The voice was obviously male, yet surprisingly it had a slight feminine lilt to it. I led us all into our formal dining room.

What I saw took my breath away, I was prepared to find a slightly humiliated caricature of a woman, with grotesquely exaggerated makeup. That is not even close to what we found. I almost went into cardiac arrest over the way Tom looked. I was expecting some caricature of a woman, that was going to embarrass me in front of all my closest friends. Rather than a parody of a woman, we found the quintessential female you would pass in the grocery store. He shocked the hell out of me, looking better than I thought possible. I had to really concentrate to find Tom hiding behind all of those cosmetics. Tom was wearing a dress with a wasp waist and a figure-hugging skirt, with a trendy mock neckline and short cap sleeves. It was knee length and was form-hugging displaying an unquestionable feminine silhouette. He had paired this dress with a classic string of pearls and several sparkly rings that added a glam factor. Then there was his hair and makeup. It looked like he had spent the afternoon in a beauty pallor.

From his body language he knew he wasn’t what we were anticipating, then there was that fucking smug smile on his face. He stood there with a regal presence watching our stunned reactions.

I was totally blown away. He had gone full out and created the ‘WOW’ factor. The table had been set with our best China. The centerpiece was a bouquet of fresh cut flowers. Each individual place setting had a single red rose on it, and so help me there were scented candles placed around the room with soft instrumental music playing lowly in the background.”

Sylvia couldn’t help herself she remarked, “Mary, that sounds more like a romantic dinner for two rather than a dinner party.”

“I know it aside from the formal setting Tom did the last thing I ever expected. He addressed all of my friends. ‘Welcome to our home ladies, let me introduce myself, I am Alicia Marigold. But please call me Ali. All my friends do. I sincerely hope we can all be friends, as I plan on being around for a while. If I can have your drink orders, I’ll serve them in the family room while the roast is finishing.’

Sylvia was dumbfounded at what she was hearing. “Your friends all knew this sham of a women was really your husband. How did they react?”

“To a person we were all taken back. The transformation was dramatic. To the person they all greeted her with Ooh’s and Ah’s . After recovering from their amazement, they welcomed my Tom with smiles and a few gave him hugs and air kisses.

Gloria, who is the matriarch of our little group, was the lone dissenter. She is mega rich, earned her money the old fashion way. Through numerous marriages and divorces. She was standoffish toward Ali and simply asked, “Is that Miss, Misses or Mister?

I was ready to pounce if he embarrassed me.

Sylvie snickered. “How did your girlie husband respond?”

“He said nothing substantial, he looked at me and said, “I’ll defer to Mary for that answer.”

“Whatever did you do, I can’t imagine what you could say.”

“Yes, I was in a quandary, there was no way I was going to claim him as my wife and infer I’m a lesbian – which I’m most certainly not. I had an inspiration and told the ladies, “We’re cohabitants. Let’s leave it at that.”

Then Monica the cul-de-sac slut commented, “In that case I will need to keep my husband away from your cohabiter, he’ll chase anything in a skirt.”

Ali took everyone’s drink order and played bartender. Ali was wearing simple three-inch pumps. Even though they were of a moderate height, it was obvious Ali was a novice in high heels. He wobbled and could only take tinny mincing steps. In his best impersonation of a fashionable woman, he sashayed in and out somehow without turning an ankle. Between keeping everyone’s glass full and checking on the dinner. By the time was the meal was ready, we were all relaxed.

Once the roast was cooked, Ali led us to the table and served dinner. We had a gourmet meal consisting of a Caesar salad followed up by perfectly prepared prime rib accompanied by a great French wine. Then Ali surprised us by bringing out cherries’ jubilee for dessert. She was lauded by everyone with praise for the meal.

During the meal, Ali keep busy providing 5-star service attending to each of us as if we were all royalty. Between her hostess responsibilities she sat and joined in with the general conversation. She was just one of the girls.”

“At the end of the night Ali had earned the respect and comradeship of all of the ladies. To my utter surprise he seemed to have an innate ability to mimic feminine mannerisms. After that over the next several weeks, his wardrobe grew dramatically as he actually started to develop a style.”

Later, after everyone had left and we were alone, he confessed to me he had help with achieving his present look. It seems he had spent hours at the beauty salon. They had to be magicians to turn my husband into a believable looking woman. It was through a masterful use of shading and contouring they were able to hide all signs of Tom. He had started the day with fashionably long manly hair. He had obviously had long blonde extensions added to his tresses. Long hair on a woman is the very essence of femineity. There he stood with his hair styled to resemble Betty Grable with a long bobs and victory rolls and soft curled ends.

He told me that he ‘got the works’. Total body waxing, facial and mud bath. They did his nails first then they put in the hair extensions. Which he had tinted dirty blonde, then washed, curled and permed. Next, he moved to the makeup station where he requested the day’s special which turned out to be a bridal makeover. When they had finished, he left to go dress shopping feeling like a princess. That is how he accomplished such a dramatic transformation, from man to Donna Reed in one day.”

Sylvia asked, “What about today? Did he spend all day at a spa prepping for the garden party?”

“Oh, no, not today. It took him most of the morning to get dressed. But what you see is all his handy work. It took a while and many hours practicing and watching videos but he eventually developed his own style and skills. He traded in his golfclubs for a curling iron. He is addicted to salon visits more for the advice and helpful hints more so than their results. He now spends most Saturday mornings there.”

“It sounds like your Tommy boy really enjoys playing dress up and playacting at being a deferential mate.”

“I think compliant is a better way to describe my hubby, I don’t think he enjoys being ordered around. He responds much better when he is asked.”

@ @ @ @

“He had met every gate I had demanded. I was out of options. Besides his secret of being a crossdresser was out. There is an old axiom, ‘One person knowing a secret it is safe, two people knowing it, then the secret is questionable, three knowing it, makes it common knowledge. Since Tom had been outed, I saw no reason to hide it. I decided to take advantage of his desire to be my devoted house frau.”

Silvia asked, “So, Tom has been the pretty Ali ever since?”

Mary didn’t want to diminish Ali’s accomplishments, but considered truth the best option. “No, the Cinderella-like transformation of Tom into Ali for the dinner party wasn’t due to Tom’s miraculously newfound ability to dress and act like an authentic woman. Nor some magical fairy godmother, rather it had more to do with a Michelangelo type effort of a salon full of professional beauticians, manicurist, cosmetologist and hair stylists. Followed by the help of a sympathetic fashion consultant and a friendly retail assistant. All motivated by a boatload of cash.”

Sylvia, smiled and said, “They say money can’t buy happiness, apparently it can buy beauty.”

Mary chuckled at that comment. Then added “Ali didn’t just materialize overnight. The creation of Ali was more an evolutionary process, of trial and errors. Tom had a lot going for him aside from enthusiasm. He had some genetic advantages most crossdressers don’t have. He was always slim and trim as were most of the men in his family. From his father, who is half native American - Cherokee, I think. He inherited a hairless body and a very light beard, and from his Nordic mother he got his blonde hair and blue eyes.

“Then you combine those advantages to his capacity to take constructive criticism and the willingness to ask for help. It was the perfect circumstances for a male to change into a perceived female.”

Sylvia smiled at what appeared to be a happy ending, “So you conceded to his request?”

“Yes. I had to agree to let him live as a woman or we would have to split up and go our separate ways. I never wanted to be alone. Then there was the issue of Tom’s money, it is hard to walk away from a million dollars. So, we have stayed together.”

Sylvia’s voice had the ring of grief in it. “It is just my opinion but, I think that was a mistake. You can always make money, happiness is harder to come by.”

That comment got a grimace from Mary.

Sylvia sneeringly commented, “Judas Priest Mary! How do you like being the man of the house?”

“Damn you Sylvia Jane! There is no need to be cruel. Let’s say I’m the head of the household.”

Sylvia smiled and said, “Potatoes, po-tah-toes!”

That gave Mary pause.

@ @ @ @

Sylvia took a chance and went on, “I never thought he was right for you. Your normal dates were with more macho types, he was the lone exception.”

Mary nodded. “Yes, at the time, macho is what I thought would make me happy. I found there is more to forming a strong relationship than great sex. At the time I met Tom, I was dating that football player, Billy something. My lord, he knew his way around a woman’s body. If he was half as good on the football field as he was in bed, he would have been an All American. Thinking back on it, he might have been up for consideration for the Heisman trophy.

“We were invited to an after-game victory celebration. Billy left me alone and was off getting drunk. Sometimes you just get lucky. I was in the right place at the right time. That is where I met Tom. He was the school mascot so was included in most team activities. We hit it off right from the start.”

Sylvia thought back to those carefree days and commented, “Oh yes, I remember him. He was the butt of a lot of jokes. He was hilarious bouncing around the field as our schools ferocious Anteater. Why you settled for the guy who was the mild-mannered mascot when you could have had a member of the more manly testosterone filled football team is beyond me.”

“In my defense, he was technically part of the team. Which meant we, as a couple, were included in a lot of the team functions.”

Sylvia scrunched up her forehead. “True, Tom had a shy demeanor and was known as a nice guy just not the manliest one.”

Mary puffed up in defense of her selection of a husband, “You mean like Bill, if I remember right, he got that cheerleader pregnant, he was not a fan of protection. That ended his playing career, as well as his three-year run as the campus Casanova.”

Sylvia couldn’t let it end there. “Mary, your point is well taken, Tom was only a normal run-of-the-mill engineering student. He was never seen without his slide rule, vintage Texas Instruments calculator, and his archetypical pocket protector. He was nothing but an also ran as a man, in my view. He obviously kept the sissy part of his personality hidden. You deserved better than that. You were more a party girl who could out drink any of our sorority sisters. How many times after a night of drinking, did I hold your hair back while you knelt and worshipped the porcelain god? His idea of a big date was to spend Friday night at the library doing Physics problems.”

“You’re right Sylvia, he held me back in school socially, drastically restricting my party time. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. In retrospect, I was on the path to having a drinking problem. Tom’s conservative lifestyle pulled me back from that. I’ll admit he probably put a damper on ‘Fun time Mary’. Which hasn’t hurt my professional career. He has been my rudder and helped keep me on the straight and narrow.

“I admit I never saw my husband as being the super-macho type. Over time, I found there is more to the essence of a man than massive muscles. Tom is the best man I have ever known. Like it or not, it takes more than a pair of cojones to achieve manhood. Living as Tom is now, would threaten most men’s masculinity. My Tom is comfortable and secure with his masculinity even when wearing an evening gown. How many ‘men’ do you know that could say the same?”

Sylvia looked at Mary with wide eye confusion. Completely misunderstanding what she was trying to say. She read more into her words than were actually meant.

Mary tried to explain, “I realize seeing a Tom in panties, bra, nylons and a dress is a bit bizarre. Equating the Ali you see to manhood is a stretch. What I see when I look at Ali is the man behind the makeup. Looking into her soul if you will.

“Seeing my man wearing frocks, freaked me out at first. Being completely honest, he does make a nice-looking looking woman - that helped me adjust. I never thought I would get accustomed to him in drag. After a while it became the norm, now I don’t think anything about it. Ali is Tom, Tom is Ali.”

Sylvia could not believe what she was hearing. “Come on Mary. Wake up and smell the coffee. Tom is a freak of nature.”

“Syl, who are we to judge? The emergence of my Alicia Marigold has opened up a whole new world of experiences for me. I decided while he is wrapped up discovering the joys of the feminine mystique, I decided it’s time for me to break out and live a little, which is just what I have done.”

@ @ @ @

“Anyway, after his big announcement I took Tom aside and had a serious talk, hoping to still shock him out of his proposal.”

Sylvia curtly interjected, “In my opinion, what he needed was a five iron upside the head.”

“Hold on girlfriend. Before I resorted to violence, I had other ideas.

“In retrospect, a slap upside the head would have been a better solution. Let me describe what went on. I told my deranged husband, ‘Tom, you said you wanted to be my wife for the next year. You provided a long list of wifely chores you are anxious to do for me. What was the one you left out?’

He replied, ‘I’m sorry honey, you’ve lost me.’

“I acted like I was exasperated so I scolded him. “Come on Tom, put your thinking cap on, what is the main thing a wife does to keep her man happy? Tom had a puzzled look on his face.

I got in his face and announced, ‘Sex you air headed bimbo!’

Tom enthusiastically beamed and asked. ‘You mean you want to have sex with me?’

“I laughed in his face, Tom you wanted to forego your position as my husband in exchange for a chance to be my wife. Are you currently, my wife?”

Tom wasn’t sure how to answer, so he was noncommittal, ‘I guess not yet.’

“I hit him with a fastball, ‘That’s correct old man, you are merely auditioning for the part of a wife. You will have to demonstrate to me you are qualified and capable of fulfilling all the rolls expected of a woman.’

“Sylvia, I had him now, I was sure, as he mumbled, ‘Mary, I’m totally lost. Please just tell me what you want me to do.’

With a smile I declared. ‘I want you to do whatever it takes for a bride to make a husband happy. Emphasizing the word whatever.’

Tom got pale and he was a little unsteady on his feet. He asked me, ‘If I am not allowed to have sex with you. Then how can I do that?’

“I told him. ‘You wait here, I’ll bring your husband to you. I left the room and came back five minutes later, by myself but with my hands behind my back hiding my big surprise. Let me tell you it was big, the largest they had. 9 inches long and with a shaft thickness of 2 inches around and a realistic ball sack that could be filled with any number of substances.

“I brought out my new sex toy, one I had acquired at the adult bookstore out on the interstate. When I was within a few feet of Tom I produced his training aid, a double headed dildo and shoved it out toward my husband. Then I made the formal introduction, ‘Tom, I would like you to meet Long Dong Leo your perspective husband, let’s call him your fiancé.’

“Sylvia, I swear Tom peed his pants as a small wet spot appeared in his crotch. Let me tell you, he turned white as a ghost. I was sure I had finally dispelled him of this ridiculous wife idea. Tom stood there dumfounded.”

“He asked ‘What am I to do with that?’

“Tom, have you ever pleasured a man before?”

He replied somewhat sheepishly, ‘Only myself.’

“Well, in that case you are in for an adventure, you have four days to practice with your fiancé Leo here. Notice it he has two ends. One fits in me the other will be in you. As you move your portion, the part in me will stimulate my female anatomy. On Friday night your challenge will be using Leo to assure I have three orgasms between dinner and bedtime. If you fail, I’m calling off this venture. You’ll have no second chances so you better make the most of this opportunity.’

Tom asked, ‘Please tell me you don’t want to fuck my ass with that monster!’

“I replied, ‘Not hardly, that would require effort on my part. Friday night will be all about my pleasure. I’ll strap Leo on and sit in your favorite recliner, you’ll kneel between my legs and service me’. Is that understood?”

Tom enquired, ‘You want me to get dressed as a woman and symbolically give your rubber manlike figurine a blow job?’

“Absolutely not! Tom is the one auditioning for the position, not some girl want-to-be. I don’t want to hurt your feelings as I still have feelings for you. Let me be truthful. You were never much as a husband. Let's see how you do as a *wife*! It will be an adventure finding out.

“Since it’s your first time, it’s appropriate you dress in white. You will wear a clean white undershirt and jockey shorts. It will be Tom doing the dirty deed and not in drag. If that isn’t acceptable, we can call this whole thing off and go back to the way we were. The decision is yours.”

Sylvia interrupted. “Well don’t keep me in suspense, what happened? Was Tom a good cocksucker?”

@ @ @ @

Mary leaned back and smiled, reliving that Friday night. “Girlfriend, let me tell you. He wasn’t only good, he was superb and enthusiastic. He proved to me he was committed to the process. After dinner that night, I changed into my silk robe strapped on that wonderful faux phallic device and sat in the predetermined chair. I had Tom bring me a scotch and one of his cigars. Tom came in in his male underwear, I had him crawl across the room, stooping between my legs. I stopped him there and told him to return to his room and put on his best aftershave. I wanted to imprint to him it was Tom, a male, doing the dirty deed of sucking cock, not some female. When he returned, I drew back the robe and Leo burst up tall and firm. Tom’s eyes about popped out of his head. I sat there sipping my drink and after lighting my smoke I was puffing away on that stogey. Tom went to work sucking on something different. Mine was tasty tobacco, his was lifelike silicone. After a bit his hesitancy he noticed his efforts were pleasurable to me and his efforts turned to real enthusiasm. He swallowed the entire length and girth of that thing until his nose was tickling my pubs. At first, he was shy and bashful then it was like someone threw a switch his sexual appetite changed from subdued to positively ravenous for my meat. In no time at all, he was deepthroating that monster like a pro. Not once, but over and over again. I watched his head bob up and down like a piston. I have never had a sexual experience like that. It wasn’t just the tactile pleasure but the overwhelming feeling of superiority to witness the submissive position my arrogant macho husband had willingly put himself in. He had propositioned himself as much as any street whore. I could never look at him the same after that.”

“Well tell me, Mary. Did he give you that big ‘O’ you were looking for?”

“Did I have an orgasm? You bet your sweet ass I did. My lord! I had three of the biggest ones of my life and it didn’t take more than a couple of hours for all three. The first one was so strong it was like the fourth of July in my head. Tom was so sweet. you should have seen the expression on his face when he got his oral gift. My toy was rather expensive, but it has a sensor in the part that was in me. When my pussy muscle convulsed it initiated a small pump that delivered my homemade cum into his mouth. After each climax, rather than getting up he remained kneeling there with his hand reverently holding and stoking my faux sex. It was like he was worshipping it.”

“Fake cum? How in the world did you make that?”

“It’s easy, you take several egg whites, stir in a little corn starch, add some yogurt, a pinch of salt. Mix and let it stand. Then, out of vindictiveness, I added a little of my pee for flavor. I am told it is close to the real thing in taste and consistency. Watching Tom struggle to swallow that concoction was a thrill in itself.”

“So, Mary I guess that got Tom what he wanted?”

“No, not yet. I had spent a lot of time thinking about how this was going to affect me. Once he opened this Pandora Box who knows what life would be like. What would my friends think about me? What would they say behind my back? I had worked too hard to establish my reputation to have it destroyed by my sick, perverted husband. If he was going to get his jollies off playing Suzy homemaker, I was sure as hell was going to get something out of it. I guess I was being a supercilious bitch but I didn’t care. I spent several days considering my next move. I developed ten rules he would have to live by. I printed them out and handed them to him one at a time. I waited while he read each sheet. He had to sign each sheet as a sign he agreed to each.

I sat Tom down for a somber talk. I told Tom, ‘Since you are serious about following through with this theatre of the absurd, I will only give my consent if you agree to some ground rules. I am calling them my 10 Commandments.’

“I then casually mentioned. These are nonnegotiable, break any one of them and the deal ends right then and there.”

Sylvia asked, “Just what are these canons of your religion? How desperate of a pussy was he?”

“I’ll let you judge for yourself here are my demands. Here read them for yourself I have copies on my phone.”

Commandment Number 1:

“This thing will be for a full year. There will be no stopping or calling a time out.”

Commandment Number 2:

“You will do all the domestic chores yourself. Housekeeping will be your full-time job. No farming things out. The only exception will be for the yardwork.”

Commandment Number 3:

“At no time during that year will you present as anything but a woman. Under no circumstances will you let anyone see you without full makeup and the other accoutrements of femineity. Without those, we both realize you look like a man in a dress. You will never wear pants. You will always present as a lady, which means nothing but dresses and skirts. Nothing trashy or overtly sexy.

More importantly, if anyone ever questions you about your true gender, you will freely acknowledge you are a genetic male, exploring your feminine side. Absolutely no pantyhose, you will wear only nylons until this experiment is over. If you are going to be a proper young woman, we can’t have you emitting a foul order from down there. Therefore, every morning after your usual toilet. You will use a sweet-smelling douche.

After a woman has her monthly, she needs to ensure she is clean and sweet down there. So, for two days before and three days after your monthly, you will clean yourself out with a fleet’s enema, then follow that up with your douche.”

Commandment Number 4:

“When I get home from work, no matter the time, I will be expecting a hot meal and you meticulously dressed and your makeup refreshed for my homecoming.”

Commandment Number 5:

“Since I will be the head of the household, you will turn over control of all of your financial resources to me. Consider it a dowry, if you will. The only assets you will have at your disposal is what I deem you will need. In turn, I will provide you with an appropriate allowance to run the home and a small sum of money to maintain your feminine appearance. I will expect a full monthly accountability for all your expenditures.”

Sylvia, interrupted, “No way will he give his fortune to you. I am having a hard time believing that.”

“I didn’t say he had to give it to me, the trust is in his name. I only demanded he turn over control of the income to me. I would be the one to decide how the monies are dispersed.”

“Okay, that’s more believable. Sorry I interrupted you. Please go on.”

Commandment Number 6:

“I will never order or tell you to do anything. I will always ask! However, you will acquiesce to my desires, with no arguments or complaints. I promise to never ask you to do anything illegal, but some things you might find distasteful. I expect your compliance in those cases to be cheerful and immediate.

You are not to pleasure yourself for the entire year. I want my wife to have self-control.”

Sylvia gasped, “No way! You can’t tell me your husband has gone an entire year without taking matters into his own hands. If that is what you wanted, there are devices to ensure his celibacy.”

“I’m familiar with them, however I consider them demeaning and inappropriate in a loving relationship. Tom has always been a man of his word. So, I took his word on his self-imposed chastity.”

“Sorry, I know we are friends, Mary. I can’t believe a healthy man can go a year without sexual relief.”

Mary smiled at her friend’s naïveté, she smiled at Sylvia. “That is pretty much the same reaction I got from Tom when we reached this point. I’ll never forget the look on his face. It was not a scowl, but not a smile either. Honey, I am pretty sure it has not been a year between sexual releases. If I remember my sex-ed classes, males who go through long droughts between sex, have these involuntary spontaneous nighttime expulsions. I can’t hold Tom responsible for that. I am not unreasonable.”

Commandment Number 7:

“You will do everything possible to aid my career. Other than your domestic responsibilities, that will be your number one priority.”

Commandment Number 8:

“I will be having regular late night business meetings, there will be no fuss about the frequency or the hours. No comments, or questions, absolutely no mopping or sad faces.”

Sylvia was stunned. “I get the impression that your use of the word meeting is nothing more than a euphemism for sexual liaisons.”

“Why yes and no, the sexual liaisons are there but only intended to aid my business.”

“That doesn’t sound like the woman I lived with. Faithfulness was so important to that person.”

“It still is. I never cheated on Tom. He still has my heart. He voluntarily abandoned me by wanting to forgo being my husband. Our current situation is all his doing. He no longer has any claim on my fidelity. What I do while he is off playing house is none of his business.”

“What about Ali?”

“Ali and I are married in name only, we merely are house mates, cheating on her has no meaning, either legal or moral.”

“Aren’t you concerned one of your liaisons will come back to bite you in the ass?”

“NO! Tom has his rules, I have mine. I make it perfectly clear before I agree to a meeting with a client, there will be no emotional attachments, our meeting is strictly business. There will also be no additional meetings, no matter how well they perform.”

“Men agree to those conditions?”

“Don’t kid yourself. I’m still an attractive woman and am considered by many to be an above average lover. I offer a guy a no attachment night of debauched sex. I have never had a problem finding men willing to join me.”

Commandment Number 9:

“There will be no intimacies between us. Sex is obviously off the table. Categorically no external shows of affection. That includes, holding hands, hugs and of course kisses, even girly air kisses.”

“The last on the list was Commandment Number 10:

“Being a woman is more than looking and smelling nice, there are major negatives we have to live with. Your first inconvenience will be your monthly visit from Aunt Flow.”

I know we can’t replicate that. But in recognition of what we women go through, you will symbolically participate. To simply things your simulated menses will be the first five days of every month. For five consecutive days you will wear a sanitary pad. Since a woman’s flow isn’t always even or predictable two days out of those five, you will also wear a tampon. Which of those days you require the added protection I will leave up to your discretion?

Another aggravation about being a woman is the constant concern about fat shaming. Woman world around seem to be fixated on their physical appearance which translates into concerns about their weight. So, my wife will also be too. I am not unreasonable, but obviously Tom needs to slim down, so you can drop a couple dress sizes. Go take a shower and weigh yourself. Then report back to me with your weight. I will determine the ideal weight for a woman of your age and height. On the 15th of each month, your goal will be a loss of 4 pounds a month, for the first six months. After 6 months your goal will be a loss of 3 pounds a month.

One of the most irritating things about being a woman is having to shave her legs and underarms, so that will be a requirement of you also, you are to have no body hair anywhere below your eyes.”

“I am sorry I am still trying to get my head around all this. Are you telling me Tom agreed to all of your outrageous conditions?”

“Obviously he did you saw him for yourself. He is a man or should I say a person of his word. I trust him to do as he promised.

“My poor Tom read my rules his eyes widened at the horrific reality of what I was asking of him. He turned white after reading them. I thought he was ready to back out. I didn’t give him the chance to agree or disagree. I told him to sleep on it and we would talk tomorrow over dinner. It took him that full day to recover and finally consented to my conditions.”

“Mary, you have a long list of dos and don’ts what happens if your Ali deviates from those? How do you punish him?”

“Punish? Ali isn’t a pet that needs to be disciplined. If it is a minor indiscretion, I merely let Ali know I am disappointed. If it is a major, say a mortal sin the deal is off and Ali goes away forever.”

“That was enough to keep him in line?”

“More than enough. The first time he got out of line, he failed his weight loss by a pound we both knew he screwed up. I never said a thing. I think my apparent indifference was torment enough to punish him. If that wasn’t enough, the next times she failed weigh in brought harsh scolding from me. those few words from me brought a torment of tears from Ali, she completely broke down emotionally. It was so bad. I felt terrible and ended up running out and buying her roses. It is funny how life woks, Ali screws up and I end up apologizing. But it works for us I’m happy and Ali is contented in her role as a homemaker.

Sylvia was dumbfounded at what she had just heard. “Mary, Tom agreeing to do all you demanded of him, is surly the first sign of the Apocalypse. How can he call himself a man and agree to subject himself to such indignities?”

Mary merely shrugged and responded, “It is what it is.”

After all the hoops I had him jump through, I was obliged to give him my stamp of approval. I guess you can say my future would be determined by how this reverse marriage works out.”

“So, did you make a major production out of formally agreeing to his proposal?

“No, actually it was rather low key. I could see the trepidation on his face. His eyes pleaded with me. He shyly, awkwardly like a teenager girl asking her parents for birth control pills for the first time, he quietly almost in a whisper asked, ‘Well do you approve?’ I simply nodded yes.”

@ @ @ @

“Sylvia let me tell you the last few months have been one for the record books, dare I say even Ripley's Believe It or Not. I would venture a woman has never had a year like this one.”

“Can I ask you to tell me about it?”

“Sure, thing Sylvia. Wait here.”

Mary walked to the head of the stairs, where she yelled down. “Ali, could you please set another place for dinner. Sylvia is staying over. Also, if it isn’t too much trouble would you change the sheets in your room and lay out clean towels. She will be sleeping in your bed. If you don’t mind you can sleep on the couch.”

From the bottom of the stairs, came the reply, “Of course, dear. That will be no trouble at all. I’ll get what I need out of my room then it is all Sylvia’s. Dinner will be in about an hour. I’ll call you when it’s ready. Would you like to select the wine or shall I decide?”

“Ali, you have exquisite taste, go to the wine cellar and pick out something appropriate for a celebration.”

@ @ @ @

“Oh, Mary, you must be miserable. The past year must have been hell with your husband coming out of the closet as a gay Drag Queen.”

“Hold on, Sylvia don’t go putting words in my mouth. You have seen Ali, that is no Drag Queen. If anything, her makeup and ensembles are always understated and tasteful.

“As to her sexual orientation, that is an issue that has yet to be determined. Let me tell you about my year. I think you will be surprised. Let me describe my typical day. I wake up, do my thing in the bathroom, get dressed and put on my makeup and head downstairs for my breakfast.”

“Wait a minute, you don’t have Ali serve you in bed?”

“Absolutely not. Ali is not my servant and most assuredly not my maid. I do admit she has done the breakfast in bed a few times, but only on special occasions like Christmas and my birthday.

“On normal days I find Ali fully dressed, makeup and her hair stylishly done in a nice outfit, wearing an apron waiting for my arrival. She even sleeps in curlers so she will never have to keep me waiting. My Ali has become quite the little Betty Crocker. She has developed into a first-class chef. That alone probably saved our marriage. I can’t cook for diddly squat. Before all this started every meal, whenever it was my turn to prepared it, was a crap shoot. It was only a matter of time before I poisoned us both.

“Ali can prepare anything I desire. Aside from the usual eggs and toast, she has served me everything from classic Eggs Benedict to western omelets, on a few minutes notice. I tell you she is a wiz in the kitchen. It wasn’t always like that. She has worked hard to develop those culinary skills. She has spent a small fortune buying every cookbook available. She also tapes all the cooking shows that come on TV. She has proven to be a quick learner. The way she cooks it has been a challenge keeping my weight in check.

“After my breakfast is ready, she serves me in the kitchen, we sit and eat together. Her diet only allows her to have dry toast, and a piece of fruit. I have coffee, while she has tea. One of her idiosyncrasies, she decided coffee is too vulgar, a real lady only drinks tea.

“She sees me off to work with a cheery goodbye and hands me a travel mug of coffee for my commute. It is an idyllic way to start my day. It only gets better after that. As soon as I leave, Ali puts her hair up to get it out of the way. She dons an apron to clean the house and do everything else a full-time maid would do – just without the title. She is a neat freak and a perfectionist. She even irons the towels and napkins. The house could pass a white glove inspection every day. Let me tell you the joy I feel coming home every day to a loving spouse, a hot homecooked meal, and a clean house.

“No matter how late I get home I find Ali waiting for me at the front door, with a cocktail in her hand. I sit in the comfy recliner and Ali brings me the paper. While I enjoy my drink and read the paper, Ali runs a hot bath for me. As I soak, she hurries to the kitchen to finish preparing our evening meal. Every night we have fresh homemade bread Ali has made from scratch. When dinner is done, she pops a fluffy bath towel in the dryer to warm it up. She knocks on the door and places the towel on the counter.”

“Wait a minute Mary, why doesn’t he just bring it in to you?”

“In accordance with our no intimacy clause, seeing me naked is not allowed, she maintains proper social distancing. After dinner we will sit and watch TV, where Ali most nights rubs my feet. When it is time for bed, she turns down my sheets. We say good night and head to separate bedrooms. To start our days all over.”

@ @ @ @

“Sleeping in separate rooms, it must be hard going a year without male companionship?”

“Don’t be silly, I have known more men in the last year than the average woman does. I use that word in the biblical sense.”

“How’s that possible? Doesn’t your company frown on you getting involved with customers?”

“They don’t ask, I don’t tell. It’s a win-win situation. I am very good at what I do, mostly because of those late-night business meetings. You can’t imagine how demanding and stressful my job is. I not only have to worry about the actual construction but am also tasked with negotiating contracts that are favorable to the company and getting signatures on them. The discussions start in the boardroom, but in most cases end up in the bedroom. My company has never questioned how I get contracts signed.

“Those meetings are a required part of my job. My success is a result of my own special negotiating skills that help ensure I can accomplish my job and further my career.”

Then, with a huge grin, Mary went on, “They also simultaneously serve as a way to relieve my stress, if I get a little something out of it so what. You can’t believe the rush of endorphins I get after signing a contract preceded by a good romp in the hay.”

“How often do you have these business meetings?”

“I don’t know about two or three times a month, mostly on Saturday nights. My company thinks I am the most dedicated employee they have working on weekends. Saturday has become my normal date night. My usual meeting is over by two or three AM, by that time I am usually negotiated out. Of course, there is the occasional negotiation that is harder than most and, in those incidents, it has taken all night to come to a mutually satisfactory solution.”

"Hmmmpf," Sylvia retorted, sharply. “That doesn’t sound like the woman I knew. The old Mary was a very strict moralist, no saint for sure. But fidelity was always a keystone of your moral beliefs.”

“I admit, I wrestled with that issue initially. I eventually rationalized my concerns away. I have come to look at this year as my Rumspringa. Do you know what that is?”

“Yes, Rumspringa is the term for Amish teenagers' period of experimentation and freedom from religious rules, when they are able to live on their own, drive cars, drink, and experiment with other aspects of mainstream American culture without worrying about their consequences.”

“Yes, exactly this is a year where I am not bound by any moral or societal rules.”

Sylvia could only shake her head in exasperation. “Does your husband know about your special negotiation tactics.”

“I’ve never flaunted my promiscuity in his face. I make every effort to keep my infidelities on the downlow. Ali hand washes all my delicate lingerie, only someone who is numb between the ears would not know what those stains are. Tom may be a lot of things, but dumb isn’t one of them. So, I assume he at least suspects.”

“Wait a minute are you telling me he is happy with his wife galivanting all over town doing Mary Magdalene impersonations.”

“I don’t know what Tom’s emotional state is concerning my activities. He never brought it up and I certainly wasn’t going to. From my experience, Ali appears to take it all in stride. She has never thrown any repercussions or emotional outbursts. Whenever I attend one of my meetings, no matter how late it was when I got home and I pass Ali’s room, I could see under the door her light was on. She always sat up waiting on me.”

“I’m sorry Mary, I have never heard of a man that can just sit idly by and swallow the indignity of his wife bedding other men.”

@ @ @ @

“I admit a couple of times my conduct got a raise out of Mister Stoic. This is a little embarrassing and a bit humbling.

“It started on Thanksgiving. My company threw a large banquet for all our employees for the holiday. There was this new foreman, a man’s man. Six feet six of all muscle and a ruggedly handsome face. He had been with us for a couple months, I made it as evident as I could that even though I am married I was available for a no attachment hook up. I was either too subtle or he wasn’t interested. I decide to find out which.

“I had a little too much to drink and decided to stop being abstruse. I intended to let him know my intentions. I wanted to test out the old adage of men with large hands. In hindsight, I was too obvious. I did everything I could. I even threw myself at him, pretending to trip and ending up in his lap with my arms around his neck. I might have been a little too obvious.

“Ali was there with the other women, holding court in the kitchen. I wasn’t as judicious as I should have been. I later heard about my conduct from my boss. Ali never said anything directly to me or about my failed seduction. Her displeasure surfaced later to my distress.

“A few weeks before Christmas we were invited to a holiday party. It was a major affair that had a band and gift exchange.

“We arrived separately, Ali and several other ladies came directly from the beauty parlor. Ali had managed to conceal all signs of Tom under an abundance of makeup. His skills with cosmetics had drastically improved over the months. That bitch Ali showed up in a scandalous evening gown. It was a sleeveless silver mesh bodycon dress that had a hugging bodice. The dress accentuated her silicon imitation bosom. The dress had bungee spaghetti straps that lead to an open back with scoop neckline that showed just a hint of her lacy bra. The overall effect was a curve-hugging silhouette. Incredibly, the first impression I had of her that night was that of a sausage, squeezed in the middle while everything else was popping out the top and bottom. The mesh fabric was adorned with shimmering sequins in a gorgeous, detailed pattern. She completed her attention-grabbing ensemble with long rhinestone fringe earrings and 5-inch heels. She used her C cup forms but put them in a padded pushup bra, that moved her breasts up the boob scale into the D range. As you know, I have always been sensitive about my modest B cup size. I think she did it just to spite me.”

Smiling Sylvia asked, “I’m curious, how did you handle that?”

“The last thing I wanted to do was make a scene. I gave her the evil eye and she got my meaning. It didn’t stop her from flaunting her fake tits all night, culminating by her sitting on Santa’s lap, kind of rubbing my nose in it. Looking into her face, the smug impression I thought back to Latin class and the expression veni, vidi, vici came to mind. Son of bitch, she came and conquered me at my own game.”

“It was a long evening for me. Despite the fact everyone present knew she was really a he. Even under close scrutiny, he came out looking and acting like a woman, people saw what they wanted to see. That night, he had an aura of femininity about him that was tangible. He went from being a meek looking librarian housewife to being a femme fatale in one evening. She showed that when she had a mind to, it she could turn on the charm. Her dance card was full all night long, even the slow romantic ones. Between songs, she was like a queen bee with a bevy of men buzzing around her.

“I lost sight of her for about 20 minutes around midnight. I finally found her heading for the lady’s room, looking prim and proper, except her lipstick was smeared. When I asked her where she had been, she simply told me she had stepped out for a smoke. That would be reasonable except Ali doesn’t smoke.”

“Are you telling me your husband skirted the sexual frontier?”

“I’m not sure if her conduct was done looking for carnal thrills or just a little male ego giving me the middle finger.”

Sylvia couldn’t help but snicker. “Forgive me for saying so Mary, it sounds to me like you were hoist on your own petard.”

Mary didn’t appreciate the snide remark. Even if it was an accurate observation.

@ @ @ @

“You may be right Syl, his small success must have bolstered his masculine confidence. His male pride raised its ugly head a short time later. It surfaced after one of my business meeting didn’t adjourn until after dawn. It was the first time one of my meetings had gone overnight. Looking back on it, I am sure it must have gotten under his skin.

“Because the next Friday night, we were invited to a birthday party for one of the ladies in our group. I had something come up last minute at work so I called and told Ali I would meet her there.

“Being fashionably late, I arrived 15 minutes after the other guests. A butler let me in the front door, from the entryway I looked over the room searching for my partner. I couldn’t find Ali anywhere. I spied the birthday girl off in a corner. I headed in her direction. I had just reached the middle of the hall when there was a loud knocking. The butler swung open the door to admit the next guest. All eyes turned to the see who was there. To everyone’s amazement there stood my Ali framed in the doorway in a pose she had obviously practiced maximizing her curves. My knees started to buckle. She stood with one hand situated on the doorjamb next to her ear, the other on her femininely cocked hip. Damn if she didn’t look good! Hell, she looked sensational! Her makeup made her look sultry on the verge of slutty. Her cosmetic skills were again evident as there was no sign of a man anywhere. She had done her makeup with an extra flair, classic dark red lips that matched her nails, with loads of lip gloss that made her lips shinny and kissable. On her eyes, she used a soft blue color with a copper highlight. Her eyeliner was a deep black winged and the that gave her the wide-eyed look. It was obvious she had used an excessive amount of mascara to make her eyes soft and sexy. Soft pink blusher was spread on her cheeks. I had always thought I was good at doing my own makeup, but Ali is over the top amazing.

“She definitely looked 'hot'. It looked like she had added a fall to her hair. Her head was a mass of long flowing curls that went down her back reaching her shoulder blades, cascading over her shoulders so it resembled a blonde cape. There she was, precariously perched on a pair of what I call ‘hooker heels’ 5-inch stilettos. She was liberal with her perfume, as her aroma preceded her into the room. Standing there, she had a smile that would melt the polar ice cap. For jewelry, she was wearing a rhinestone diamond necklace, bracelet and earrings, so with every move she glittered in the light.”

“She made her presence known by taking one step inside and called out in a sexy contralto voice. ‘Ta Da, Alicia is here, let the fun commence!’

“Let me tell you, I almost shit my panties. There was my Ali, she has a real thing for the glamorous women and styles of the 50’s. Now here she was decked out like a sexy diva reminiscent of a 1950’s Hollywood movie wanton seductress. I couldn’t help myself I let out an unintended squeal. While in the background demure giggles could be heard around the room from the other ladies.

“I wasn’t the only one surprised. Everybody was stunned with her staged entrance. It was the first time anyone had ever seen Ali dress to impress. Let me tell you, she did impress, she turned heads. It was like the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. Instead of her usual look, she went all out to look like a stunning starlet. No one moved nor said a word. It was the first time anyone had ever seen my girl looking like that, let’s call a spade a spade, she was tarted up and would have been right at place on some street corner. It seemed to me she had come out ready to play. Her ensemble and attitude were so out of character it was as if Ali was a different person. It was dress down Friday at work I had come straight from there, seeing how Ali was dressed I felt positively Victorian in my stylish business suit.

“Seeing the range of expressions cross my friends bemused faces I chuckled and thought it was going to be an interesting evening.”

“Go on Mary, tell me more, this sounds fascinating. I’m curious how that timid mousy thing I saw downstairs could transform into something that could shock you. Surly you had seen Ali in all forms of dress, even formal wear.”

“I have seen a lot. Nothing prepared me for what showed up that night. Previously she had never shown any inclination to dress suggestively. I glanced around the room and noticed a lot of bewildered expressions. The ‘witch’ was wearing a red spandex dress that looked like it had been shrink-wrapped on her. It was so tight from across the room I could see her garter tabs. She had done her makeup with an extra flair, with winged eyeliner, thickly mascaraed false lashes, perfectly arched brows and classic red lips. There was a certain je ne sais quoi about her that night she definitely looked all woman. She was precariously perched on a pair of outrageous hooker heels. They were strappy platform shoes. They had an open square toe, thin ankle and toe straps, and shockingly tall 6’’ stiletto heels. That served to highlight her long legs encased in her trademark fishnet stockings that screamed fashion model to my eyes. She was one dyn-o-mite looking female and she knew it.

“If that wasn’t bad enough, she came in flaunting her boobies.”

@ @ @ @

Sylvia interrupted, “Don’t tell me, let me guess. The padded bra one more time.”

“I only wished. No not this time! She scandalously didn’t even wear a brassiere. I later found out she had glued her forms on for the evening. The dress strained to contain her ample free-swinging bosom.

“I had never closely examined her forms. They had to be the most realistic ones available. The form’s nipple and even the areolas were noticeable. The nipples were so conspicuous they thrust out like twin towers. When she walked under the overhead chandelier, so help me god - those puppies cast a shadow.

I wondered if she could hear my heart as it pounded in my chest. She was every man’s wet dream come to life! I watched as Ali looked silently at our hostess with an ease that bespoke a relationship that had developed over a number of weeks. Ali took a few steps into the room. Her feminine preparation taught her to arch her back thrusting out her chest in front and her ass in back. When she walked, she swayed her hips in an exaggerated motion. When she strolled through the room with its Italian marble floors there was the classic staccato beat of a woman in high heels. She sauntered toward Dorothy with her breasts swaying one way and her ass another. Her walk had a confident strut to it. Every eye in the room was fixed on her. Her hips pumping from side to side seductively, her breasts bouncing wildly. Ali and Dorothy met right in front of me. They gently came together and as they hugged their lips touched the others cheek. Then she sought out Dorothy’s husband and greeted him in a similar manner with a hug and a cheek kiss.

“Once I got my heart rate back to fewer than two hundred beats a minute and was able to talk, I greeted our host properly offering her an apology for my partner’s theatrical entrance. She merely poo poo'ed me saying, “It was no matter.”

“I sought out Ali to have a word with her concerning her shameful dress and conduct and the fact she was embarrassing me. As I neared her, I was overwhelmed by her perfume. She had overdone the perfume. It was like I had stepped into a flower garden. I confronted her. “Alicia what the fuck are you doing? Have you any idea how your conduct reflects on me?

“She forced a cheeky grin before answering. ‘What don’t you like my dress and my flirting? I am doing nothing you haven’t done a dozen times to me.’ Lord I was pissed.”

“Her reply was as honest as it was painful. There was nothing I could say. She won that round.

“The rest of the evening, I could only watch as Ali worked the room and flited outrageously with everyone regardless of gender or marital status. Her specialty was strutting up to a man stopping only when she was inside his personal space. Arch her back propelling her tits like they were a gift. Feigning timid shyness all the while coquettishly fluttering her long thick false lashes all the while blushing profusely. I was torn between laughing at her outlandish conduct, and fearful some guy would take her actions seriously and attack her right there among the crowded room. Every man in the room knew her true sex, yet I am sure many went home that night and beat off to images of my husband.”

@ @ @ @

Sylvia was incredulous at what she was hearing. “Excuse me, he doesn’t sound human. That boy needs professional help. Does he just spend his days cleaning the house and waiting for your return?”

“Sylvia, don’t be so judgmental. Ali has an active and full social life. The neighborhood ladies have taken Ali under their wings and treat her like she is their baby sister. They have been a big influence on Ali, tutoring her in everything from hair, makeup, fashions and even how to handle unwanted sexual advances.

“Ali plays bridge with the ladies twice a month. She often goes out to lunch and shopping with her girlfriends. Tom never had any real friends on his own. We had friends, but they were more mine than his. Now Ali is the one with full address book. Ali has been accepted with open arms into the neighborhood clique. It can be a bit cutthroat on our street. The ladies all know Ali is really my husband and he is rich. Ergo, he is no threat to take their husbands.

“Add to that the way Ali has ingratiated herself with the ladies. She is the first to volunteer anytime anyone needs help. When a neighbor is hosting a get together, my Ali shows up early to help clean and set up. When there is a large gathering, she has even shown up uninvited the next morning to help with clean up.”

“Mary, your Ali sounds too good to be true.”

“That may be true, but her status has meant we also socialize as a couple with the neighbors. We are invited to every party, whether it be a backyard barbecue or a formal celebration. As you have probably noticed, this is an upscale neighborhood filled with some of the state’s most effluent residents, the ill-reputed ‘one percenters.’ Needless to say, our soirées tend to be formal black-tie events. All the ladies wear beautiful gowns as it gives them an opportunity to show off their fancy frocks and jewelry. Even our back yard barbecues are not casual affairs. The women wear dresses and the men in golf shirts and slacks.”

“Does Ali participate in these formal gatherings? That doesn’t seem to fit in with her austere housewife persona.”

“Oh yes most assuredly. She joins the other ladies the morning before all formal functions at the beauty parlor and pulls out all the stops. She cleans up really well. It may be a bit of a cliché but any woman with the right makeup and gown, can be glamorous. My Ali is no exception. She can compete with any of the genetic women in the splendor department. Ali may not be a beautiful woman, but she is not unattractive by any means.”

Sylvia thought that over before asking the obvious question. “Don’t you worry about your husband straying off the reservation?”

Mary fought hard to keep from laughing at that absurd idea. Ali is a man, under all his feminine camouflage. All the women know that, but they also know Ali is my husband and is devoted to me. There is sort of an unwritten rule in our homeowner’s association bylaws. It says there is a no poaching allowed among us ladies. They view him as one of us girls. He has even been invited back into changing rooms when the ladies are out shopping. Ali is looked upon as the neighborhood’s token vestal virgin.”

Sylvia thought that over then asked, “What about the husbands?”

“If one tried, he would be ostracized by everyone in the community. Then his wife would have her husband’s balls surgically removed and mounted above the mantel. They are protective of their baby sister.”

Sylvia grimaced at the visual image that produced.

“Okay, let’s say that’s true, there are a lot of other men out there looking for a good time.”

@ @ @ @

“Funny you should mention that. There was this one time I suspected Ali of stepping out on me.”

“Okay Mary tell me about that.”

“Well, it started on a Saturday night I was on my way to a meeting, I had gone only a couple of miles when I realized I had forgotten my phone. I turned around to go get it. I searched the house looking for it, found it in the bedroom on my nightstand. What I didn’t find was Ali. I looked and her car was gone too. I was curious, if not suspicious. For my next meeting I pulled my car off the road around the corner. In less than ten minutes, I saw her car speed by. I tried to follow her, but my car was pointed in the wrong direction and I lost the car in traffic. Now I really wanted to know what she was up to.

“The next week, I told Ali I had a meeting, but I really didn’t. I waited to see where she was going. This time I managed to stay with her for about 20 minutes, lost her in a ritzy neighborhood at a stop sign. I cruised around for a while until I saw her car parked in front of a mansion that looked like something out of Gone with the Wind. I pulled in behind Ali’s car, it was the only place to park, the driveway was full of cars. I made my way to the front door. I could hear music and laughter coming from inside. It may have been a bit of a double standard thinking my *wife* was at a party with some man made me furious. I had to find out who this guy was. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do next, I just stood there frozen in place. The decision was taken out of my hands when a couple came up behind me and rang the doorbell. The door swung open to let the guests in. There stood a woman I had met a couple times. It was the mayor’s wife. It seems I must have made an impression on her she remembered me, “Hi Mary, we weren’t expecting you. Please come in and join the party.”

“Sylvia I was trapped, but still curious to see who my *wife* was with. I was a little underdressed but went in anyway. Ann escorted me into a large ballroom. I was astounded by the opulence of her home. She asked if I wanted something to drink. At that point, I needed something strong so I said, I would love something.

“Girlfriend, you will never guess what happened next. My hostess looked over the crowed room snaped her fingers and called out, “Cherie please come here and find what our guest would like to drink.”

“She casually said, “Mary we weren’t expecting you. But you’re welcome, the more the merrier. Please join us, there plenty to eat and drink. We have been hosting political fundraisers the last few months, this is the last one before the coming elections.

“A woman decked out in a classical French Maid’s costume, approached and asked in bad French ‘madame ce que vous aimeriez boire.’ The maid blushed demurely. She showed the proper deference expected of a servant, by immediately lowering her gaze.”

Tom hoped Mary didn’t recognize him. He was sadly mistaken as he was eventually to find out.

“Sylvia, it has been a long time since my high school French class but I recognized that she was asking me what I wanted to drink. I mumbled ‘white wine’ in English and the maid disappeared off to get my drink.

“I was stunned, when my drink was delivered and I got a good look at her face. It took a few seconds before I realized the maid was really my Ali. Ann saw my stunned reaction and asked, “It seems you know our maid. Cherie has been a godsend in serving at these events. I don’t know how we could have gotten by without her.

“I was having a difficult time finding good help for these festivities. A dear friend of mine, Gloria Williams, recommended that young lady to me. I believe you know her. She lives near you and has mentioned you to me several times.”

“Why yes, I know Gloria. I just recognized your maid. I’m just surprised to see her looking like that. It’s the uniform that startled me. You don’t see those very often outside of Halloween parties. The woman you call Cherie, I know her by a different name. She usually dresses a little less risqué than the way she is clothed now.”

“Ah yes, that was an issue. It was my idea. these parties are all about getting the guests to open their wallets. These donors are invited to all kinds of get-together’s everyone asking for donations. I thought we needed something to make us stand out. It may be a bit of a cliché, I decided to go with the French maid theme. All the bartenders plus Cherie are dressed in that theme. At first, she was reluctant to wear the costume she thought it was demeaning. It took some negotiations to get her to agree. She does look spectacular in that uniform. All the men seem to approve. Unofficially, I have heard she has had a number of indecent proposals from some of the gentlemen and even a few decent ones.”

“Cherie? That is not how I know her.”

“Yes, it is an alias. She told me she didn’t want the word getting back to her spouse that she had taken a second job.”

“Forgive my surprise, the woman I know also doesn’t speak French.”

Ann proudly announced, “That too was my brain child. I hired a French teacher to work with her and the bartenders one hour a day. Cherie is a quick learner and now knows enough conversational French to add to the illusion, even if her accent is horrendous. She is a real hit among the boosters. She has done such a bang-up job. I have offered her a full-time job working for me. But no matter how much I was willing to pay her she says she can’t accept my offer. Maybe you can talk to her for me?”

“Sylvia, I stayed until the party broke up. It was an experience watching every rich, self-professed Casanova ogling my husband and treating him like he was nothing but a sexual appetizer on a smorgasbord. He really played the part of a flirtatious cocktail waitress. Splitting time between serving drinks and fending off sexual advances. Watching my husband interact with a roomful of men, it became apparent to me that most of them would ante up a lot of money for a smile from the woman he presented as.

“The uniform had been made and fitted personally for Ali. The stretchy bodice of the costume hugged her artificial curves. Her boobs had a mind of their own as they bobbed and swayed with every step. The top only accentuated them. Cherie took tiny little steps to help keep his girls under control. She kept surprising me. It seems every day she opens another chapter in the mysteries of womanhood. She parried unwanted advances as if she had been doing it her entire life.

“She kept working until the last guest left. Like a good servant, she stayed behind to clean up. I can’t prove it but seeing me there I believe she took her time cleaning up, trying to postpone the inevitable showdown with me. I waited impatiently by the cars for Ali to come out.

“We had a long talk standing in the street. Ali initially refused to explain why she had taken a night job. I wouldn’t let it go. She finally broke down and told me that since my birthday was coming up. She wanted to get me something nice, and didn’t feel right using the household money. She got the opportunity to earn a little extra money on the side so she took it.

“Let me show you what that dear creature gave me for my birthday. It is a gorgeous diamond tennis bracelet.”

Even Sylvia was shocked, “That is truly beautiful. With your unlimited monies, what did you get Tom for his birthday?”

“I got Ali a Gotham Steel non-stick fry pan. Which for your information, she was very happy to get.”

Sylvia gave out a good old fashion belly laugh. “Let me see, frying pan on one hand and diamonds on the other. Yea, that makes things even steven. Give me a break, Mary. Tom gives you something personal and you give him something totally impersonal. Sounds like you were trying to make a point emphasizing his status in the house.”

@ @ @ @

Before Mary could respond, Ali, called up that dinner was ready. The ladies made their way to the dining room. The three of them sat down and had a delicious meal. Ali made steak sandwiches served on fresh homemade sourdough bread and a large fruit salad. It was accompanied by a bottle of excellent California wine.

As Ali was cleaning up, Mary took Sylvia by the hand and led her into the lounge. Where she retrieved a bottle of 12-year-old single malt scotch and two highball glasses. She filled both glasses with the amber fluid and they clinked them together in a toast to friendship. They sat and laughed as they did so often before as roommates. The old feeling of companionship returning to both of them. They sat there reminiscing about the good old days for several hours.

Ali had finished with the cleanup. She noticed the two were huddled together having a deep conversation and had almost finished their drinks when he approached.

"Can I get you two ladies a drink?"

Holding up the near empty scotch bottle, Mary said, “Yes, go the cabinet and get us another bottle of this good stuff, please.”

Ali, quickly returned and handed the full bottle to his wife. Mary accepted the bottle with a smile and said, “Thanks, that is all we will need for the night, you are free for the rest of the night.”

Eventually, Mary suggested they take things back upstairs to her bedroom. They grabbed what was left of the joy juice and the glasses. As they were headed to the stairs, they happened to walk by the alcove that Mary had set up as an office. She watched Ali with admiration. Apparently, he had just finished his clean up as he was wearing his long hair up in a girlie top knot to get it out of the way. Held in place with a colorful red scrunchie. He was now sitting at the computer lost in concentration. He had a pair of reading glasses perched at the end of his upturned nose. He was perched on a chair with his long nylon encased legs crossed one over the other at the thigh in a very feminine manner. A pump dangling from the tip of a manicured toe.

Making sure they were far enough away where Ali couldn’t hear Sylvia commented to her friend, “I would think sitting like that would be anatomically uncomfortable for a male.”

Mary coughed discretely, and giggled, “It would be if he had male genitals of any significant size.”

Sylvia blushed and asked with an impish grin, “Let me ask, if the reason you are willing to forgo relations with your husband is because of his inadequacy of…. you know down there?”

Smiling Mary replied, “I have examined many a man’s undercarriage, in my lifetime. In comparison, he is a what I describe as a betweener, not large but not small. As a lover, he was always adequate if not spectacular. Our current life style that defies society norms has nothing to do with bedroom inadequacies.”

Grabbing the bottle of joy juice with one hand and taking her house guest by the other hand Mary headed for the stairs.

“I thought I had my life all figured out. Two weekends ago, things turned on something as simple as shopping trip. Ali and I went shopping at the mall.

“Ali, in her typical over the top feminine ensemble, super tight pencil skirt, and needle heel stilettos with a diameter at the ground of less than 1 centimeter. We were strolling around the crowded mall window shopping. Ali had lagged behind as she stopped to look in at a dress that had caught her eye. We both had purses with shoulder straps. Out of nowhere, a man in a grey hoodie and jeans grabbed my purse strap and pulled me to the ground. I wouldn’t let go of the purse so he pulled out a switch blade knife and cut the leather strap and ran off with my purse. It had everything in it the car and house keys, my wallet with all my cash and credit cards. All I could do was lay on the ground and scream, “Thief, stop him!”

“With this crazed man running through the crowded mall and brandishing a long knife, people parted in front of him like the Red Sea did for the Israelites.

“My Ali casually unslung her purse, swung it over her head, and threw it like a leather bolo, acting as if she was an Argentine gaucho. The purse wrapped around his ankle and brought him down flat on his face. The purse and knife sprawling out in front of him. Ali calmly waked over to him and as he stretched out to retrieve his knife, in an imitation of Clint Eastwood Ali looked down at him and said in a deep manly voice said, “You've got to ask yourself one question: 'Do I feel lucky?' Well, do you, punk?”

“The thief glared back and reached for his weapon, whereupon Ali picked up her right heel and drove the stiletto spike right through his hand, pinning it to the floor. Talk about the howl of a wounded animal, his cry brought the entire mall to a halt. I staggered to my feet and started toward my husband. He looked in my direction and in a firm command ordered me, “Stay where you are!”

“Ali would never order me to do anything. In that instant, I realized I had my husband back.

“He made no effort to let the crook up, someone must have called the police. As they approached the scene, Ali had picked up my purse, she stood there with her perp wiggling on her heel like a worm on a fishhook. She had taken my compact out and was checking her appearance. She took out my lip gloss and was reapplying it as the cops asked her to lift her foot so they could take away their prisoner. When the police were taking my statement, my husband stood protectively by my side. I waited while Ali gave her statement. The police listened unbelievingly to how this sugar-and-spice frail woman could bring down a wanted pickpocket.

“Ali took me by the elbow and led me to our car, where the passenger side door was opened and I sat there shaking uncontrollably. Ali drove to a drive-through and bought me a cup of coffee, even after I told him I didn’t want coffee. He paid my words no heed. We pulled off to the side of the parking lot. My glove compartment was opened and Ali, pulled out a flask of whisky I keep there for medicinal purposes. I didn’t think anyone knew it was there. He poured in a double shot into my coffee. It was just what I needed. He drove us home and led me to my bed, again against my wishes, he helped get me undressed and pulled back the covers, ordering me to get into bed.

“‘You stay there until I till you to get up! Is that clear?’ He disappeared for a few minutes and returned with a glass of brandy that helped calm my nerves. I managed to take a quick nap. I awoke only when there was a knock on my door where Ali brought me a cup of soup and cheese sandwich for lunch.

“It was the first time in a year that I wasn’t required to make a single decision. I was told when and what to eat, what to wear, when to sleep when to get up. It was a great respite. I had my manly husband back, even if he was wearing makeup, a dress and heels. I always wanted to be in charge but found I loved being taken care of just as much.”

“Girlfriend I’m don’t want you to go upstairs to merely walk down memory lane. I need your advice and help. Let’s go upstairs and decide my future and that of Tom and Ali.”