Crystal's StorySite

The Green Dress
by: Hebe Dotson   © 2001


"What are you doing?" he asked.

"I’m weeding out my closet," she said. "I’m going to get rid of everything I don’t wear any more."

"That’s a good idea -- I should do the same thing."

"Just add your stuff to the pile on the bed."

"I said I should do it -- but not right now," he said. "Say; that’s quite a pile. You’ve been busy."

"I’m not done yet," she said, taking a green dress off its hanger and adding it to the discard heap.

"You’re not throwing that one away, are you?"

"I’m not throwing any of them away -- I’m giving them to Goodwill," she said.

"But you’re not getting rid of that green dress, are you? I love that dress. It looks so good on you. It matches your eyes"

She looked at him. "I haven’t worn that dress for over a year. I’ve taken off twelve pounds since the last time I wore it, and it doesn’t fit right any more."


"Not on your life," she said. "I worked hard to get rid of that weight, and I’m not going to let it come back. That dress is history."

"But I love that dress. It brings back so many memories. Remember that great party at the Bennetts’? And…"

She took the green dress from the discard pile and thrust it into his hands. "Here! If you like it so much, you can have it! Just hang it in your closet -- I’m trying to clean mine out."

He held the dress at arm’s length, with an embarrassed expression on his face. "I don’t think it would fit me," he mumbled.

She looked at him and the dress. He saw a wicked glint in her eye. "I’ll bet it would," she said.

"How much?"

"Ten bucks."

"You’re on," he said. He stripped down to his boxer shorts and pulled the dress on over his head.

"Pay me," she said.

"Not yet. It’s got to zip up in the back, and I can’t reach the zipper. I don’t pay unless it zips all the way up."

"Turn around," she said. She pulled the zipper all the way up. "Pay me."

"I can’t believe it," he said. "I was sure it would be too small. It’s kind of tight in the waist."

"But you’re wearing it. It fits you. I didn’t bet it would be a perfect fit. I can let the waist out -- the ten bucks includes alterations."

"Why would I want you to let the waist out? Uh -- how do I look?"

She waved him toward the mirror. "See for yourself."

He inspected his reflection carefully.

"I think you look kind of cute," she said.

"Do you really?"

"Sure do."

"Hmmm. The skirt’s a little short, don’t you think?"

She lifted the hem. "There’s plenty of material here. I can let it down at least two inches."

"And I don’t look right in the chest."

She laughed. "Of course you don’t. You need boobs to wear that dress. Here; turn around so I can unzip you."

She pulled the zipper down and he struggled out of the dress. She rummaged through her underwear drawer and pulled out a bra. "This is kind of ratty," she said, "so I don’t care if you stretch it out of shape."

"I don’t want to put on a bra," he protested.

"Don’t you want to see how that dress would look with boobs? Here -- put it on. I’ll help you." The bra was very tight, but after a bit of a struggle, she succeeded in hooking it together for him. She reached into her underwear drawer again, retrieved several pairs of panties, and stuffed them into the bra cups. "Voilą! Boobs!" she said. "Okay, let’s put the dress back on."

He pulled the dress on again, and she zipped him up. He stepped quickly to the mirror. "Wow!" he said. "This is pretty wild!"

"It sure is," she said. "You owe me ten?"

"I owe you ten."

"Do you want to keep going?" she asked.

"Keep going?"

"The full effect," she said. "Lipstick, mascara, everything. See what you look like. Why waste the opportunity?"

"I guess I shouldn’t."

She touched his chin. "You need to shave. Let’s take your dress off again while you give yourself a good, close shave. Shave your legs while you’re at it."

"Shave my legs?"

"Yes. And your arms, too -- and your armpits -- and those three hairs on your chest." She retrieved another pair of panties from her underwear drawer and tossed them to him. "And lose the boxer shorts -- you look like Broomhilda."

When he returned a few minutes later, clean-shaven in chin and limb, she helped him into the dress for the third time. "It doesn’t feel as tight," he said.

"I let the waist out an inch and a half. It’s just a temporary seam; I can do a permanent seam later. I can let down the hem, too, but I’d rather do that while you’re wearing the dress. Are you ready for the makeup?"

"I guess so," he said.

"Okay; here we go. I’ll start with a foundation so your beard shadow won’t show." She worked quickly, spreading a creamy substance over his face and neck and rubbing it into his skin with her fingertips. "This is so strange," she said. "I’m used to doing my face, but not someone else’s. There, that takes care of the foundation. Now some powder...some blush. Lipstick...looking good! A little mascara to bring out your lashes -- don’t worry; I won’t stick this in your eye." She worked carefully for a few minutes. "Enough paint," she said, "but don’t look in the mirror yet."

"Why not?"

"You need hair." She retrieved a small box from her closet shelf, opened it, and took out a blonde wig. "Remember this? From that Halloween party I went to as Marilyn Monroe?"

"I remember -- you were gorgeous!"

"You’re going to be gorgeous, too, my dear. Just let me brush this wig out…and now we can put it on." She placed the wig on his head, adjusted it carefully, and brushed it a few more times.

"Can I look now?"

"Not yet. Here, put these pantyhose on -- they should fit -- while I pick out some jewelry. Be careful -- we don’t want to get runs in them."

She rummaged in her jewelry box while he gently pulled the pantyhose up his legs and over his hips. When he was done, she handed him one of her wristwatches. Then she clipped earrings on his earlobes and put a necklace around his neck, reaching behind him to fasten it. She stepped back to inspect him. "I do nice work," she said.

"What about shoes?" he asked.

"I don’t think I have anything you could wear…let me look. Well, maybe you could force your feet into these open-toed pumps, but they won’t be comfortable. Do you want to try them?"

"Sure; I should be able to stand them for a few minutes. Oh, boy -- they sure aren’t comfortable." He stood up and limped to the mirror. "Oh…wow!" he said.


"Hi, hon," he said. "Been home long?"

"Only about ten minutes." They kissed. "I got you a present," she said.

"A present? For me? What’s the occasion?"

"I don’t know -- St. Swithin’s Day, maybe," she said. "It’s on the bed."

He hurried eagerly into the bedroom. She heard him laugh, and then he came back to the kitchen, dangling a pair of green pumps from his fingers. "Where did you get these?"

"In the fourth or fifth shop that I went to this noon. I dedicated my lunch hour to finding them -- just for you, my dear. I’ll get you a pair of knee-highs so you can try them on." She went into the bedroom and emerged, knee-high nylons in hand, to find him already barefoot. He put the nylons on and stepped gingerly into the pumps. "How do they fit?" she asked.

He walked out into the hallway and back again. "Pretty good, I guess. I don’t know how they’re supposed to feel, but they’re snug without pinching. How did you figure out the size?"

"I tried on a pair of your shoes and guessed that your feet were about a size and a half bigger than mine. The clerk told me I could return them if they didn’t fit. Do you want me to take them back?"

"No…no, they feel fine," he said.

"That’s good. I’ve got another present for you."

"Another? You take St. Swithin’s Day pretty seriously, don’t you? And I didn’t get anything for you. Oh, well -- where is it?"

"In the Macy’s bag on my dresser," she said.

He went into the bedroom again and came back with a small plastic bag in his hand. "Is this it?"

"It sure is -- open it up."

He reached into the bag, drew out a small, silky object, and began to laugh. "My first bra!" he said.

"You’re really a late bloomer," she said. "This one should fit a lot better than my old one did last night. Go ahead and try it on."


"Is your dress long enough for you now?" she asked. "I hope so, because I really can’t let it out any more."

"It’s fine," he said. "Just right."

"And the waist is okay?"

"It’s just right, too."

"Good," she said. "Take it off and I’ll make the alterations. I’ll press the hem, too. It’ll take me about thirty minutes -- you can get started now by giving yourself a good close shave and putting on your makeup."

"I’m not sure I can do it right."

"Just do the best you can -- I’ll help you when I’m done with the sewing."

An industrious half-hour later, she brought the green dress into the bedroom. He was seated at her vanity, about to apply lipstick. "Go ahead," she said. When he was done, she looked him over carefully and made some minor adjustments. "I think you’ve got it! Now let’s finish getting you dressed."

She helped him with his dress and wig and he took the short, wobbly walk to the full-length mirror. "I can’t believe it," he said. "I look like a million dollars."

"In that case, you can afford to pay me my ten bucks."

"Only ten? What a bargain! The shoes and bra must have cost a lot more than that."

"They did, and they’re on your credit card," she said.

"Oh. Well, it’s still a bargain."

"I know," she said. "That’s why I’m letting you take me out to dinner."

"Dinner? Why not? You’ve earned it. Okay -- just give me a few minutes to get changed."

"Get changed? You look just fine, love, just as you are."

He laughed. "That’s a good one. Uh…you are joking, aren’t you?"

"Not a bit."

"Sure you are. I can’t go out in public dressed like this."

"Why not?" she said. "I do."

"Well, of course you do -- you’re a woman! But I’m…"

"Says who? Look in the mirror again -- who’s to say you’re not a woman?"

"I do look pretty good, don’t I?" He turned to look at himself from various angles. "Not bad at all. But…"

"No buts, my dear. You look fine," she said. "When you’ve put all that effort into making yourself look pretty, you can’t just stay home admiring yourself -- you have to go somewhere so others can admire you, too."

"Well, I may look all right, but I don’t walk like a woman or talk like a woman. What if someone spots me?"

"I’ll do the talking for us. If you have to speak, just keep your voice soft and low and I’ll interpret for you. We’ll give you some walking and sitting practice before we leave. And if someone spots you, so what? It’s not going to be anyone you know, so who cares? And no guy’s going to try to pick you up in a restaurant."

"Pick me up?" he said.

"Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, sweetheart. Now, let’s see how well you walk in those new heels."


"There, now -- wasn’t that fun?" she said.

"It was," he replied. "It really was. A good meal, too." He closed the apartment door and turned the deadbolt.

"It was a nice restaurant. We’ll have to go there again."

"Yes. I don’t think anyone spotted me -- do you?"

"Not as far as I could tell," she said.

"If anyone did, they didn’t say anything. And I didn’t see anyone staring at me."

"People usually don’t stare at other people in restaurants," she said. "Anyway, I really don’t believe anyone spotted you. We were just two women having dinner."

"I’ll tell you, though, I almost crawled under the table when I saw the Bennetts."

She giggled. "You handled it very well."

"You handled it very well, you mean. I didn’t do anything."

"You smiled and nodded when I introduced you as my old college roommate from Seattle. That’s all you needed to do."

"I almost jumped up to shake hands," he said. "I don’t know what stopped me -- unless it was my fear that I’d fall over in these heels."

"You did very well in your heels, love -- you moved as if you’d been born to wear them."

"Thanks -- but I don’t think so," he said. "You know, it’s lucky the Bennetts were just leaving when we arrived -- otherwise, they might have wanted us to join them."

"Yes," she agreed, "and if the waiter hadn’t been hanging over us to get our drink order, they might have wanted to talk longer."

"And if we’d arrived just a few minutes earlier, they would have stared at us…"

"People really don’t stare in nice restaurants, dear."

"They don’t stare at strangers," he said, "but the Bennetts would have stared at us because they know you and they’d have been wondering if they knew me -- and then they might have spotted me."

"Maybe, might have, could have, didn’t!" she said. "Lissa did recognize your dress, though. ‘Don’t you have a dress like that?’ she asked me."

"I thought I heard her say something like that, but Jack was going on at me about how much he loved Seattle and I couldn’t hear what you said to her. Besides, I was busy reminding myself to murmur but not to talk."

"I just told her that the airline had given your luggage a free trip to Chicago, so I’d loaned you a few things to tide you over."

"Good," he said. "Did she ask about me?"

"Of course. I said you’d had to go to an unexpected meeting in Boston, but you’d be back tomorrow or the next day."

"Well, we survived," he said, seating himself gracefully on the sofa. She sat down beside him, snuggling close, and he put his arm around her.

"And it was fun," she said.

"Yes," he agreed. "Terrifying -- but fun."

"Are you game to do this again?"


"Then you’re going to need a few more outfits," she said.


"Suppose we run into the Bennetts again. It’ll seem very strange to Lissa if you’re always wearing the same old dress."

"Don’t you have some other things I could wear?" he asked.

"I don’t have too much that would fit you. We need to get you two or three more dresses…and some undies and pantyhose…and shoes, of course…and your own makeup. We’ll go shopping tomorrow night, after work."


"It’s so nice to have a quiet night at home," he said.

"I haven’t had to cook dinner since last Tuesday," she said. "That’s eight nights in a row we’ve eaten out."

"I should check the Guinness Book of Records," he said.

"Right -- if we’re closing in on a record, we shouldn’t stop now."

"Yes, we should. I’ve worn each of my new outfits twice, and I can’t afford to get any more. Each one has cost me two dinners and a play or a concert or a movie. It’s not the outfits, it’s the overhead that’s killing me."

"Poor baby! You’ve hated every minute of it, haven’t you? Especially those guys ogling you," she said.

"No, I haven’t hated it. It’s really been a lot of fun, but I need to take a night off so I can build up my strength to have more fun. When were guys ogling me? You’ve got to be kidding!"

"Two nights ago, when we went to that little bar for drinks after the concert. You didn’t see them?"

"I only had eyes for you," he said.

"Well, they certainly had eyes for you," she replied. "Or maybe for us, since there were two of them. Fortunately, the slimier one had to go to the john -- as soon as he left, I paid the waiter and got us out of there."

"I thought we left rather abruptly," he said, "but then I thought you were probably in a rush to get me home so you could ravish me -- or was it my night to ravish you?"

"As I recall, it was mutual ravishment. In any event, I didn’t want to give the job to those two oafs -- they looked like trouble."

"How can I thank you for saving my honor?"

"I’ll find a way. Let’s see -- do you remember how to open the fridge?"

"Now I know how to thank you," he said. "I’ll phone for carryout pizza."


"You look nice," she said. "Very pretty. You and that green dress will probably make the pizza guy’s evening. Are you sure you don’t mind dealing with him?"

"I don’t mind. All I have to do is open the door, smile, give him a twenty, and wave off the change."

"And take the pizza," she added.

"And take the pizza. I don’t have to say a thing. It’s so easy even I can do it."

"I’m sure you can, dear. I’ll go take my shower and make myself pretty, too. The table’s set -- we can eat as soon as the pizza gets here."

She went into the bedroom and he perched himself on the sofa with the new issue of Cosmopolitan that had arrived in that day’s mail. He looked at his watch. The pizza should arrive in twenty minutes. He leafed through the magazine.

The doorbell buzzed. It must be the pizza guy, he thought as he glanced at his watch -- eight minutes early, but that was all right. He opened the door.


He slipped into the bedroom. She was just finishing her makeup. "How do I look?" she asked.

"Gorgeous," he said. "Uh…"

"Is the pizza here already?"

"No. Uh…"

"I thought I heard the doorbell," she said.

"You did. It’s Jack and Lissa Bennett. She thinks it’s terrible that the airline still hasn’t found my luggage."

"What are they doing here? They were supposed to come for dinner tomorrow night."

"That’s what I thought. Can you talk to them while I get changed?" he said.

"You’re not going to change a thing," she said. "They’d really figure everything out in a hurry -- goodbye old roomie, hello hubby. Come on!"

They returned to the living room. "Hello, Lissa, Jack," she said, hugging each in turn. "I’m sure you remember Susie from the other night."

"Of course," Lissa said. "I was just telling her how sorry I was that her luggage is still missing. Those airlines!"

"I hate to tell you guys this, but I think you’re a day early. I have you on my calendar for Friday the fifteenth."

"But Friday’s the sixteenth. This is the fifteenth," Lissa said.


The doorbell buzzed, and he hastened to the door, glad to get himself out of sight for a moment. It was the pizza person. She was happy to keep the change from his twenty, but she gave no indication that the sight of a well-filled green dress had done anything at all to help make her evening.


She settled herself beside him on the sofa and kicked off her heels. "Well, that was a blast," she said.

"It certainly was," he agreed.

"Thanks for going to the grocery to get the salad makings," she said. "I hated to send you out like that for your very first solo, but it seemed like the best thing to do."

"I almost didn’t come back," he said.


"I was going to call and say I’d been kidnapped by space aliens and was on my way to be impregnated on a planet near Alpha Centaurus -- but I knew you’d all be worried and hungry, so I came home instead."

"That was really thoughtful of you, hon," she said. "The pizza and salad were just enough for the four of us -- and now I don’t have to cook tomorrow night. We can eat out!"

"Oh, jubilation!"

"Your enthusiasm is duly noted. How about if we eat at the mall and get you a couple of evening-at-home outfits?"

"That might be fun," he said. "I think I may be overworking this dress. Well, at least it fooled the Bennetts again."

"Umm -- there’s something I should tell you."

"What?" he asked worriedly.

"Lissa knows. Jack didn’t when they left -- men are so oblivious -- but I’m sure he does now."

"How did she find out?"

"After you left for the grocery, she asked, very discreetly, about my always-absent husband. I said you were out of town again on business. Then, while I was talking to Jack, I noticed her studying our wedding picture. I could see her mentally putting a wig and lipstick on you."

"Oh, no…" he groaned.

"Then, after you came home with the salad stuff, her eyes kept shifting from you to the wedding photo. I knew she’d worked it all out, so I decided to try a little damage control before she said anything. I told you to entertain Jack -- knowing he’d do all the talking -- while she and I went to the kitchen to make the salad and re-warm the pizza. She was just bursting, so I told her, yes, Susie was really you. I said Susie was something we did for fun and that it was no reflection whatever on your masculinity -- in fact, I said, our sex life has never been better."

"They’ll tell the world!" he wailed.

"No, they won’t. They are our friends. Besides, Lissa wants to see if she can improve her sex life by getting Jack into a dress, too. She’s sure she can do it, so we have a tentative all-girls dinner date next week -- another night I won’t have to cook!"

"Well, that explains one thing," he said.

"What’s that?"

"When they left, Lissa hugged me and whispered in my ear, ‘Thank goodness, I don’t have to call our broker and tell him to sell our airline stocks.’"


"What are you doing?" she asked.

"I’m weeding out my closet," he said. "Now that I’m maintaining two wardrobes, I’m running out of space, so I’m going to get rid of everything I don’t wear any more."

"That’s a good idea -- I should do the same thing."

"Just add your stuff to the pile on the bed."

"I said I should do it -- but not right now," she said. "Say; that’s quite a pile. You’ve been busy."

"I’m not done yet," he said, taking the green dress off its hanger and adding it to the discard heap.

"You’re not throwing that one away, are you?"

"I haven’t worn it for months," he said. "Besides, I’m not throwing any of them away -- I’m giving them to Goodwill."

"But you’re not getting rid of that green dress, are you? I love that dress. It looks so good on you. And it brings back so many wonderful memories…"

He took the green dress from the discard pile and thrust it into her hands. "Here! If you like it so much, you can have it! Just hang it in your closet -- I’m trying to clean mine out."

"I think I will," she said.



© 2001
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