BE FOREWARNED. The following story contains sexually explicit material not suited for those who have not yet achieved the age of maturity. If you should fall into this category, do not read further. Consult the laws of your community to clarify if you are eligible to read adult sexual material. The theme is transsexual. If this type of reading matter offends you, read no further. Go do something else.

 

Next Round’s On Me!            by: Virginia Kane                 © 2000. All rights reserved.

 

"Curly! Damn, man. It’s good to see you! When you quit your job, I thought we’d seen the last of you. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

"A job. I mean, if there’s an opening, I’d like to come back to work, Joe."

"You? Work here again? You’re kidding! I thought your high faluting wife insists you stay home to take care of your kids so she can go to work. She’s still a highly paid career woman now. Isn’t she? What happened?"

"Yeah, she sure is. She’s in Europe, still making big bucks as a corporate consultant. Our daughters are in college. I’m pretty much on my own."

"You are, eh? When I first got your phone call, you could have bowled me over with a feather. Lou, you’re the last former employee I figured on hearing from again. When you left, it sounded like you’d never back, not asking for a job back, anyway. Hope you didn’t mind my asking you to come by so late in the workday. I figured we’d have a chance to discuss the old days over a few drinks later, once I close up shop. God, you’re a sight for sore eyes. Are you free to go tip a few with me this evening?"

"Sure! I’ve got all the time in the world."

"Good! Now, we can catch a few beers at ‘Crowley’s’ and slap backs with a few guys you knew that are still around, or we can opt for a place that’s quieter. What would you prefer?"

"I never went in for the raucous crowd that hangs out at Crowley’s Tavern. If it’s all the same to you, Joe, let’s get something to eat, first. Are you still single, without a wife to answer to?"

"Well, that’s a story and a half that I don’t care to go into, if you don’t mind.

I was married for about two years, but she got fed up with me and went on her merry way. I’m a bachelor again. What’s your story, Lou?

Don’t tell me you let that lush dish with the gorgeous gams get away from you. I’d die to have a knock out wife that wants me to stay at home while she works. She’s perfect for you, Lou. You two look like the world’s most happily married couple. Why the glum look? Has something gone wrong?"

"We’re still married, if that’s what you mean. Like I said, she’s in Europe."

We decided on dining at a supper club, where we could talk leisurely for a while in relative privacy. Joe was still an easy going, gregarious guy, and spent most of the time during dinner talking about the many replacements that filled my old job, over the past twelve years or so since I left.

Seems he had a lot of trouble keeping the job filled, until he hired an older woman that could pass for a truck driver. The men before her got bored with the job or quickly found another with better pay and a more promising future. None of them had my ‘gift’ with numbers, or placating office staff or had the temperance to tolerate the jarheads in the warehouse. It was nice to know I was remembered as the best person who ever filled that job.

"So why do you want that old job back, Lou? It sounds as if your talented wife can make a great living for the both of you all by herself. Why work if you don’t have to? Is there some other trouble on the home front?"

"A bit. I guess someone that has a commanding presence needs a partner that can mingle well with her astute workmates. I hated attending business related affairs with her. She started taking someone else. I didn’t mind. I was busy raising our three girls. She never told me, but I knew she did it.

I’m not a brilliant genius, but it doesn’t take one to figure out that she was using some guy from her office for her escort. As long as she came home to me, I tolerated it. Maybe she needed a diversion from her dull husband to perk her up. Who knows? Whoever it was is probably in Paris with her. I hope she’s satisfied. I guess I wasn’t as good for her as she was for me. "

"You don’t care? I mean: if my wife were fooling around on me, I’d at least give her a good bouncing around. Of course, I’m not you. Sorry, Lou, I’m not demeaning you; I just would be furious if I found out that my wife was cheating on me. You’re not the kind of guy that believes in violence, and I can respect that, but there must be some way for you to get revenge."

 

"After my wife of over 24 long years left me behind, it has to be due to her finding a younger, "more interesting" man. It’s funny how life doesn’t pan out according to your plans. Here I am forty-two years old, without a good job, and soon I’ll be without someplace to hang my hat. I should’ve known better. I thought our love for one another was sturdy as a rock, Joe.

It was her idea for me to stay home and raise the children after she got her MBA. She was a lousy housekeeper; I was more fastidious. She was an intellectual; I was a high-school drop out. Once she landed that great job as a consultant, I was outclassed as the breadwinner, so we swapped roles, to "make the most of our best natural talents" according to her.

Oh, I loved my good job with your company as dispatcher in a frozen food warehouse, while she attended college. It paid all our bills with enough for her out of pocket college expenses. We couldn’t afford to buy a house of our own or get fancy cars, but we managed, and, hey, we were in love.

We both agreed that she should continue in school from the start. She had a full four-year academic scholarship. We planned parenting to coincide with the summer vacations, so as not to interfere too much with her education. When she continued in graduate school to get an MBA she got a part-time job as an instructor. That’s when things at home started to slip.

She was so busy with work and the intense graduate school schedule; she didn’t have much time for doing housework, so I started to pitch in and do part of it. I didn’t mind. I’m a liberal minded guy. I don’t believe that the maintenance of a household is strictly women’s work. My mistake.

The older two of our three girls started grade school, and our youngest one attended pre-school, when I quit my job. They were basically good kids, but hellions for girls. They were like their mom. I’d spend most of the evenings picking up after them, and fixing dinner, as their mother was late getting home most nights. My job and keeping house was too much to handle. I left my job to do justice for the other. I couldn’t ask her to quit.

She was smart as a whip, no question about it. She talked me into going to PTA meetings, driving the kids to and fro, doing the shopping and a lot of things she used to take care of when we first got married, like laundry and the housekeeping. My life was centered around raising our girls, so I thought nothing of it as more and more of the chores fell on my shoulders.

My job here was ideal at first. A few problems occurred when I’d have to leave work early to take one of the girls to the doctor for a check-up or resolve some little problem at school, but by and large, you Joe, as my immediate boss, were always considerate and admired my willingness to take a greater interest in the welfare of our girls as they were growing up."

"To tell you the truth, Lou, I envied you. I wish I had three lovely kids like yours. Now, I’m fifty, and don’t have a soul that gives a damn about me. I still consider you lucky, even if your wife left. So did mine. At least, you still have your girls. Kids are the most important goal a guy can have in life."

"I couldn’t have managed without your help, Joe. You’d nod, and say you understood when I’d need time off for the girls, as long as I did my work." My responsibility was to make sure shipping orders for the day were typed up and ready for the warehouse men to use to pull the inventory stock, first thing every morning. Then, I’d schedule incoming inventory unloading and handle paperwork to assure the goods received matched incoming bills of lading. Any guy could’ve done the job. A woman could do it all, so long as she didn’t have to go into the cold storage warehouse to rectify discrepancies in the shipping documentation with the warehousemen.

"You said the prior girls got a rough time from the randy forklift drivers and visiting truck drivers. So, the job was slated as a man’s, even if most of the responsibilities were clerical in nature. I was good with simple math, and got along with the both, the office staff and the men out in the warehouse. For a guy without a high-school diploma, I was satisfied with having that job. The pay was fairly decent, and the benefits were more than adequate. Company hospitalization insurance paid for most of the pre-natal medical costs involved with having our three kids. I’ll never forget that, Joe.

Once my wife got her first promotion, with more than double the salary I was earning, I couldn’t effectively argue with her logic for my quitting my job to stay home to attend to caring for our three girls while she brought home the bacon. Three growing girls need a lot of things that my meager clerical pay couldn’t provide us. I didn’t have much of a choice.

You’d think our girls would pitch in and help me? No chance. They were like their mom: bright and shining, destined to become career women like her. In fact, as they grew older, they became more demanding, always in pursuit of some critical need for the next day, too busy for chores.

True, they are absolute beauties, and each had a long string of guys in hot pursuit, so they had little time for the laundry, meals or the housekeeping. They knew they could get away with claiming they had to spend their time studying. Besides, who was I to put a damper on their happy social life? I was just their dad, uneducated, unemployed, and relegated to maintaining the household. So, I dutifully took care of all their daily needs.

They surely weren’t going to follow in my footsteps to become dependant on someone else for life’s essentials. Their mother had their college plans well defined long before they finished high school. Her connections with the dean of the college she attended, and the hefty grant she wrangled for the expansion of the graduate business school assured that all three of our daughters would get a sound college education like their mother had.

Both my wife and I knew I was much better at getting the girls ready to go off to college than she was, so I didn’t bother her with handling mundane details. I was so busy getting our youngest girl ready for college; I barely noticed that my wife was also busy making long-terms plans of her own, that didn’t include me in them. She claimed that I was always so busy with our daughters, that I neglected her, and she didn’t want to trouble me with her work problems. She found someone there to attend to her schedule.

She recently received a generous offer with a hefty signing bonus to start up a new division of her consulting firm in Paris, France. She already had her passport, inoculations and was all set to depart when she sprung her intentions to leave me behind at the very last minute, before she took off. My crushed feelings weren’t a factor in her final decision. She insisted that I must remain stateside. Someone had to be available to handle problems the girls may encounter at school. That was that! I’d lost her to a younger guy, Joe. What was I supposed to do? Beg her on my knees to take me with her? What good with it do? Her mind was already made up. Women!

Since one person wouldn’t need the palatial house she bought long ago with her ample earnings, she suggested I find some place more suitable to stay, some place near the girls, but not so close as to be under foot. They are adults now, and need their own "space". Her company is going to put our house on the market to dispose of it for us. She assumed that I would understand. She said she arranged its sale for my benefit. She felt that I needed a break from the years of tedium in caring for a big place. She felt that she was considerate. She could have at least asked what I thought.

I would have to agree with her. The last thing I’d need is a huge, empty house, one to remind me how empty our marriage had become recently. True, we still enjoyed occasional sex, but always at her convenience, and always primarily for her pleasure. She was the true dominant partner. She always was, since the day we got married. Remember? We talked about it

In bed, my wife always got ‘tops’, Joe. She controlled our sexual activities. She wanted a passive partner. To be honest, that’s how I prefer sex, too. I’d have never of thought of the variety of wonderful options she brought to our mutually satisfying marital bed, back then. During the early years of married life, she was possessive, demanding and always totally fulfilled my sexual desires. I was content with our mutual pre-nuptial plans to have her orchestrate carefully timed unprotected intercourses so conceptions of our children would be least intrusive on her ultimate career plans. She had everything about the future planned out perfectly from the very beginning.

We were a good match, Joe. She was precise and direct in some regards, whereas, I was precise and direct in others. I don’t know what went wrong.

I’d be happy to oblige her every whim, do anything for her, just to be with her. I always let her have her way, and took care of the day-to-day drivel, so she could foster her career. I thought that was what she wanted. Oh, I had few personal goals, but I set them all aside in favor of helping her to achieve loftier dreams. I never wanted big achievements. Having her for a wife was more important than any personal growth. Now, she’s gone.

I guess it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t man enough to keep her, after all. She doesn’t want a divorce, either. She feels a divorce could hurt her career and damage our daughters’ frail egos. She just wants me to be out of her hair. I feel like the neglected wife you often read about. I’m to get a grand a month from her to sustain me in her absence. What kind of place can I get with that? I’ll need some kind of job in order to make ends meet. If only she wanted to keep our house, I wouldn’t have to work. After twelve long years without a job, who else would hire me? I’m between the proverbial rock and a hard place Joe. I don’t even have a high-school diploma.

I lost her, Joe. I lost her. I lost everything! What the hell happened?"

"Take it easy, Lou. You say you’re getting a grand a month from her?"

"Yeah, but I can’t live on that? Rent alone would eat up more than half of it. I need a job, Joe! Can you help? Can I have my old job back?"

"Wish I could, Lou. It’s taken. Tell you what, though. The woman who has it is getting older but there’s no telling how long it’ll be before she retires. She mentioned that her husband is getting close to his retirement. Their kids all are grown up and gone. She’s only working to build up a nest egg for their security. If her old man pulls the plug, the job could open up soon. Could you hold off for a while? If you can, maybe the job will be available."

"How long is a while, Joe? If the house gets sold, I’ll need to find a place to stay. I’ll need a job of some kind to cover my rent. I can only hold off, as long as the house remains on the market. Her company will sell it at a low bid to get rid of it, and I’ll be out in the street! That can happen tomorrow."

"Hmmm. Lou, I sold my half of my house to my wife as part of the ‘no kids, no fault’ divorce settlement. I’ve got the cash we had saved together and she got the house. I need a new place to live in, too. I’ve been bunking at my sister’s place for a year or so. She’s got a new man in her life, and I’ve been cramping her style. If your place can be had at a bargain price, I’d like to look into it. If I buy it, you won’t have to move out. You could rent part of it from me. If it’s as palatial as you say it is, it should have more than enough room in it for two bachelors. Give the idea some thought."

"Nice try Joe, but it would cost you a small fortune. However, we could buy it in partnership. I own half of the place. After the sale, I’m to get half of the cash proceeds, because we both signed the papers when we bought the place. She didn’t give me an option, though. She wants the cash from her half of equity we have in the house, and I can’t come up with it. We put too much of a down payment on it when we bought it. Advance payment into a trust for our girls’ tuition took up most of our available cash. My wife is very smart. She has money in deferred compensation, but we can’t tap into that for several more years. Once we can tap into it, I could pay off a good chunk of my half of a new outstanding mortgage. I’d need a job to qualify for a new mortgage, though. It might work, if you’re really interested in getting involved in owning half of it. It’s big, Joe, in a posh neighborhood."

"Are you kidding? It sounds like my dream come true. When my ‘X’ gets wind of where I’ll be living, she’ll blow a gasket. I’d be willing to pay plenty to see the look on her face. I sometimes feel she only married me to get her hooks into my capital. She settled for the house and some cash. True, I got more cash, but ended up with only half the assets she knows about. She got the other half in the settlement. If she finds out she could have had a better deal if she was smarter and waited longer, she’ll turn blue!"

"I don’t think it’s a good idea to buy a house with the intent of getting even with your x-wife, Joe. Would it be worth the risks involved?"

"Maybe it’s not a good idea, just for the thrill of sticking it to my x-wife, but just seeing her blood boil when I move to a posh neighborhood would be icing on the cake! You say the house is going on the market for a bargain price? That makes it a good investment on it’s own merit. I’m in the market for a house. I can handle a hefty mortgage, and I’ve got sufficient cash to wave in front of hungry real estate broker. It’s a soft market out there. I bet we can grab the place cheap. They’ll want to move the place in a hurry to get a commission. Taxes and the high cost of maintaining a house while they’re waiting for the market to get bullish again are strong incentives for the company to follow the broker’s advice and sell it now. It’s worth a shot.

I’ll tell you what, Lou. If it’s within range of what I’m considering to invest in a new house, I’d be willing to pay you half of the difference between what my appraisers say your house is worth, and what your wife’s company will accept to clinch a deal. We’ll both make out like bandits! You’ll come out of the deal with an extra half of the market value spread if you decide to sell me your half, or keep your half and pocket some extra cash to boot."

"My wife will be pleased, as well, Joe. We each get half of the appraised value. Her company is willing to eat the difference. If I buy half the house back from you, at the lower price, I can make out and still own half of the house, and not have to worry about making ends meet. I hope it’s legal."

"I’ll check into it with my lawyers. Knowing you, it will be worth it to share a house with you. I’m a slob by comparison, Lou. I know that you’ll keep the place looking in tip-top condition, and I really don’t cherish going through another brutal divorce just to prove that having a wife to manage a house for me is worth the trouble that goes along with marrying another woman.

Listen, Lou. I want to level with you, so you’ll think it over carefully. I have been putting away maximum allowable pre-tax dollars into company stock for years. Besides that, I’ve secretly bought shares from old man Owens when he was still alive. He trusted me and treated me like a son.

He wanted me to have a heavy ownership interest in the company, so I’d continue to run the plant the way he did. He sold me shares when I could afford to buy some, with the salary increases he gave to me regularly. He also left me a sizable chunk of stock in his will when he passed on. So far, I’ve accumulated enough shares to be an important shareholder. I’m even on the board of directors. My board position has many advantages. I get free legal advice for things like this. The company foots the bill.

I’m sure my lawyers will advise me if this venture is a worthy investment. In the meantime, I’ll ask them about the legality of you investing in a joint venture to buy your half of your own house at a bargain price, and collect a higher appraised value from your wife’s company.

Stop by the office, late tomorrow. Don’t discuss anything about tonight’s conversation over the phone with me or anyone else. I don’t want anyone in the office to know about things like this. Any slip up so word gets to the sellers about our being interested could affect the bid price on the place. Let me check into it blindly through my lawyers. If they like the idea, they’ll negotiate a deal with the broker, who won’t even know who is buying."

"Is all this necessary? It’s only a house."

"There are fifty thousand reasons to do this right. You don’t think I’m about to offer them anywhere near the market value, do you? Think of what you can do for your girls with an extra twenty five thousand dollars in cash. If the lawyers package the deal properly, there won’t be any fraud and we can buy the property far below the market price if we move quickly. If we hesitate, someone else in the market for a house will smell a good deal on the table and outbid us. We have to move fast."

"Gee, Joe. All I wanted was a chance to go back to work. However, if you find a way to enable me to keep my house, I’d be eternally grateful to you.

You leveled with me, Joe, so I’ll do the same. I’d like my three daughters to have the same home they grew up in to return to after they graduate. If I get a smaller place to live in, they’re likely to feel like they’re visiting me, not coming home. I think my wife wants them to look to her for inspiration and go to her after they graduate, even it was me that wiped their noses, packed their lunches and cuddled them when they were afraid of the dark at night. That’s probably why my wife doesn’t want to divorce me, knowing I couldn’t manage to keep up the place on my own without first getting a decent cash settlement from divorcing her.

I may never get to see them again if they move to France to be near their mother. If I can keep the place, I’ll have a fighting chance to be near them. In the past, I left too many things up to their mother. Would you still want to invest in the place if I’d want to keep their rooms intact? I’d be willing to let you have the master bedroom suite. I’ll use the guest rooms.

Of course, I’ll keep the place spic and span. You wouldn’t have to bother with any housekeeping. I’m used to doing it. It won’t be a bother, and with the girls away, I could still handle a full time job without any sweat."

"I’ll get right on it first thing in the morning, Lou. I should be able let you know more tomorrow night. If the lawyers agree with my logic, they’ll put a blind bid on it for me right away. If not, at least you know that you’ll have a roof over your head, somewhere. You can bunk with me as soon as I find myself another new place, until you can get settled in at a new job.

I paid for the house I’m sharing with my sister, long before I got married. I deeded it over to ‘sis’ before I got married, with the advice of my lawyers. It was a wise move. It was a present to my sister after she split up with a loser who left her high and dry, broke and homeless. Her new boyfriend seems to be a straight shooter, but one can never tell.

 

I made sure her new lover can’t get his hands on her house. It cost a lot of money for lawyers to prove the last one never contributed a cent toward the place. Otherwise, he’d have had his hand out for some money. It’s a cruel world, my man. I’m surprised that your wife didn’t do the same. She could have, you know. You haven’t worked for some time before she bought your home. Can you prove you contributed toward its purchase?"

"No, not really."

My sister has been taking care of me while the emotional bruises from my last love affair healed. I’ve been a royal pest to her. She’s got a life of her own to live. You and I suffer a common ailment: designing women with an agenda of their own, without any regard for our welfare, or our personal needs. They tolerate us, so long as we don’t interfere with their agendas."

"Sorry, Joe. I’m not vindictive, like you are. I’d crawl back to my wife in a heartbeat, if only she’d have me. I truly miss her. After twenty-four years together, I got used to letting her have her way. She’s a smart woman. If we ever disagreed, it was because she had good reason. I’m sorry that I turned out not to be man enough to keep her happy. It was all my fault."

"Lou, you don’t have to convince me. I was your boss for over ten years. In all that time, you never gave me lip about any thing I ever asked of you. We may have gone separate ways, but I don’t think you changed in the last fifteen years. You’re just as easy going, as when you worked for me. Now, your wife dumped you, and all you can think of is how you must have let her down. I think you and I will get along together just fine.

I’d bet my last thin dime you’d accept anything I ask of you within reason. How’s that for confidence that this will work out. You aren’t a demanding person, Lou. Right now, I sure could use a friend who isn’t too demanding. After we move in together, you’ll see what I mean. I know what you need to forget about your wife’s infidelity to you. In exchange, you can provide me with a true friend that appreciates me for what I am. Think it over. Remember how we managed to work things out together, years back?"

"You’re right Joe. You were always there for me when I needed you. I can recall a number of times your advice made a big difference. Not only did you help me to do my job better; you also helped me with my personal life.

Like the times I couldn’t get my wife to let me reach orgasm. Once she was sated, she turned away. It was you that told me how to anticipate her tactics and prepare myself beforehand to have great sex, so we’d both be satisfied in the end. That lesson alone was worth its weight in gold, Joe.

 

Then there were the times she wanted to tie me up. I didn’t go for kinky stuff, but you helped me to understand why she needed to be so darned domineering. It was part of her personality, just as being compliant was part of mine. Once I fully understood, that I had to submit to her, as I was the object of her affection, and she needed my total submission for her to fulfill her ego, just as I needed her domination to fulfill mine, it was easier to accept acting like her slave. I couldn’t have done it without your advice. I’d have continued thinking she was fed up with my lack of desire for kinky sex and would have dumped me for not being more accommodating.

My wife and I had twenty-four good years together, Joe. Without your help back in the beginning, I think we’d have broken up before our daughters came along to bind us together. I still owe you a lot for when you set aside your priorities to help me out. Just say the word, Joe. It’ll be like old times."

 

"You’ve still got a lot to learn, Lou, but don’t fret. Stick with me, and in no time, you’ll get over your wife leaving you for someone else. See, I have this philosophy. A guy like you needs someone to make all of the tough decisions. You revel in doing the day-to-day stuff. I’ve had my fill of bossy women. I don’t want another to try to run my life for me. I need a reliable person to take care of some personal stuff, like the laundry and cleaning up the house after me, that’s all. I can’t keep having my sister do it. She’s got a new man entering her life to look after, not my mess.

You enjoy attending to tedious chores, like you used to do on the job. You were the best dispatcher I ever had, Lou. When and if the job becomes available, it’s yours. I can’t cast off the woman who has it now, but I’ll try to promote her out of it, so you can eventually take her place. Fair enough? All you have to do is be patient. In the meantime, I’ll take a look at that house of yours. It sounds ideal. Let’s go the bar. The first round’s on me."

We spent the remainder of the evening getting drunk, talking about how we managed to run the business smoothly, with me handling the shipping paperwork, while Joe attended to negotiating with wholesale meatpackers and a fast growing list of customers who consistently tried unsuccessfully to take advantage of Joe. Oh, for a chance to go back to those fun days.

I was thrilled to see that Joe was willing to take me back again. The big lug even figured out a way for me to keep my house. He won’t be sorry for coming to my aid again. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure he doesn’t regret his noble generosity. Taking care of the house for him will be fun.

 

Chapter two.

 

The broker accepted the first bid Joe’s lawyers made. They jumped at the chance! I signed all the papers in one sitting. I didn’t even have to go to my wife’s old office. She signed off on a quick claim deed to sell the house in advance, before she left for Europe. Her boss’s boss had the paperwork sent directly to the real estate broker’s office for my signature. My knowing Joe was the hidden buyer; I didn’t hesitate to sign the contract, selling the house to a land trust, of which I was half owner. I signed the partnership agreement to that effect earlier in Joe’s office after his lawyers prepared it.

For my own protection, I had a lawyer I trusted look over the partnership agreement. According to him, Joe was as good as his word. I was in no peril by agreeing to become a partner in a venture that would hold parcels of property we agreed on buying in land trusts. All I had to do was to pay my share of the acquisition costs from my share of the proceeds from the sale of the property. The house went in a trust, owned by the partnership.

After the deal was consummated, I had twenty-eight thousand dollars in a series of certificates of deposit Joe opened up for me with the girls as my beneficiaries in a different bank from the one in which my wife and I kept our joint funds. He set the certificates up so I could cash in some of them without losing any interest on the bulk of the deposits if I needed to draw out some cash before the maturity dates. Joe was smart and he used his savvy to maximize my yield without jeopardizing my investment potential.

I no longer had to worry about my wife taking the house away. Joe was my new partner and co-owner. We celebrated over a lavish meal at the best restaurant in town. I was happy as a lark since I didn’t have to move. He was so nice, he told me he’d stay in the guest room once he moved in. My stuff was already in the master bedroom, so there was no need for him to impose on what I was used to using. It didn’t matter to him. What a guy!

Weeks later, over drinks at the bar, I broached the subject of my old job.

Joe sure could drink! He was working on my getting my job back, but ran into another snag. A different woman employee was retiring. Currently she held the only job Joe could offer to the woman who has my old job.

Joe has to hire another woman. The plant is a public warehouse now and has to meet government labor regulations. He landed contracts to supply meat to public schools and government agencies. The only way to meet the regulations is to hire a certain percentage of minorities. He has to hire another woman or lose the lucrative contracts. Things didn’t look so good.

No, I didn’t suggest that I pretend to be a female on paper to apply for the job. All I had to do was add the letter "e" to my first name to change Louis into Louise. It would be an easy thing to do, but would be dishonest. How could I justify my taking a job under false pretexts to my daughters, or to anyone else who found out? It was bad enough that some friends kid me for taking over household chores, which is normally women’s work.

 

I wasn’t about to commit a fraud to get the job. No job was worth the guilt. Damn! For years I let my wife wear the pants. What was wrong with me, anyhow? First I agreed to help her with women’s chores, then took them over completely, then quit my job, which now turns out to be a woman’s job. How many more emasculations will I have to endure?

What Joe countered with was equally preposterous! He suggested I could try to look more like a woman, too. He was serious. If I could pose as one, and later considered attending a few gender reassignment sessions with a psychologist so my application as a female would look legitimate, he’d be off the hook, and I could have the job if the psychologist said I was gender dysphoric. I told him it was an insane suggestion.

"Since you admitted to being a confirmed woman hater like I am, what do you have to lose? By getting a professional’s opinion, you can get the job. Worried about destroying your love life or something? Got some girlfriend hidden away that no one knows about? A long time ago, you told me that you dressed up in drag to please your wife. Why not do it now?

What’s so different now about dressing up to get a job? All you have to do is try it out for a while. If it works out and you can pass, once you’re on the payroll, you can suddenly change your mind and stop. I can’t fire you for having a change of heart. I’ll give you a private office, in the meantime, if you’re so self-conscious about it. It’s a popular rage these days. Lots of guys get sex changes. Had one guy in the plant do it a year or two back."

Why in the world did I ever confide in Joe over cocktails late one evening, many years ago? True, I knew that I wasn’t a very macho stud. Because of it, my new wife often wanted to treat me like I was the woman in our marriage. He would remember my telling him about the problems I had dealing with it. Now he brought it up to find out how I’d react. React I did!

"That was years ago in the privacy of our bedroom, Joe. I can’t go around making believe I’m a woman publicly! I’d never get away with it! Do I look anything like a woman? I’d feel like the fool I’d be for even trying."

"You could do it, Lou. You don’t have to be beautiful, just dress up like a woman. If you don’t try it, how would you know? I’ve got a hunch that you could pull it off without any problem. No one has to know besides me. You don’t qualify to hold any other job in the company. What else can we do? You can do the job standing on your head, let alone in heels. You once were the best damn dispatcher the company ever had. All you have to do is give this idea of mine a try in private for a while. If you can’t pass as a woman easily, we’ll think of something better. We got lots of time.

Hell, you don’t even need a job, Lou. You can make do on the money you get from your wife. Your share of groceries and your entertainment doesn’t put a dent in the monthly stipend she sends to you."

"What about my getting a car, Joe, or taking a vacation? I can’t do a lot of things I’d like to do on the money she sends. Would you live off a woman that doesn’t give two twits about you? I’d like to be able to bank the money she sends me for the girls’ benefit and live off of what I can earn. Staying home with the kids when they were growing up was one thing. Vegetating in the house in front of the tube all day is boring as hell. Someday, she’s going to stop sending me the checks. I know her. I have to prepare for that day. By wearing dresses instead of pants, all I’ll accomplish is to make our girls hate me for acting like the wimp my wife already thinks I really am.

No matter what my kinky wife did years back to spice up our marriage, it was only done in the privacy of our home for excitement. What you’re now suggesting requires a serious commitment, not some occasional flight into bedroom fantasies. If I ever enjoyed doing stuff like that, it might work, but I have no desire to dress up and strut around like some floozie.

What attracted me to my wife when we first met was her obvious lack of a beguiling, sexy appearance. I dislike those women who flaunt their bodies to attract men by adorning themselves in fancy things. You remember my wife. She wore men’s clothes more often than not. The only time she got dressed to the nines was for her fancy social engagements. That’s why I begged off on going to them. I don’t like flamboyant women."

 

I looked at Joe, doe eyed. I had to make sure he understood that I hated being thought of as a wimp. Why’d he mention my wearing women’s stuff to please my wife? Did he want me to dress like a woman to apply for the job, or did he have another reason? Sure, that’s it! He’s as kinky as her!

To bolster his flagging ego over the past few weeks, I admitted I swore off getting involved with any more women in the future, just like he had done.

I could handle every task around the house that women normally do with ease, except for one thing, sex. I know even how to be a close substitute for that too, as some fantasy experiences with my wife were more involved than my mere dressing up. I never told him about that though.

It wasn’t any fun. It was too demeaning for me. She frequently used me as a woman when we were younger, as it helped her to compensate for her not being born a man, herself. That self-serving woman knew exactly how to sweet-talk me into doing anything, whether I was interested in it or not. Now, Joe sat across from me at the kitchen table, having breakfast, trying to do the same thing. If I didn’t know him better, he sounded a lot like she did whenever she wanted to talk me into something that I wouldn’t do.

"Look, Joe. If I can’t get that dispatcher’s job as a guy, I’ll start to look for work someplace else. I’ll find something. Until then, I’ll keep my end of the bargain and continue to maintain the house. Since I don’t have a car yet, you can haul the groceries and stuff. I’ll handle the rest. No hard feelings, but I’m not changing my lifestyle to get any job. It isn’t worth the loss of my dignity. Think of something else. I’m not interested."

"What would make it worth your while, Lou? How much would it take for you to give it a shot for say – two weeks, or a month, not a minute more?"

"Whaaaat? Say, what is this? It sounds as if you’d like me to ‘do drag’ for some other reason, not for applying for that dispatcher’s job. Forget it! You can count me out this time! Are you gay or something?"

"Not even a chance, Lou! I have to admit, I’m somewhat curious to find out how you’ll look, but it’s not for my benefit. No, I have a strong feeling that your wife will come running home to you in a hurry, if she should happen to find out you decided to radically change your outward appearance."

"You do? What makes you so sure she would?"

"Think about this carefully. Your wife’s a confirmed crossdresser, Lou. She wears men’s business suits all the time, doesn’t she? She may have had them tailored to fit her torso, but she dresses ultra-conservatively, uses little or no makeup, and she works full-time in a man’s job, doesn’t she?

She treated you like an average man treats an average woman; assigned the menial household chores to you gradually, over time, until you were a busy little househusband who stayed home to raise the children while she went off to work like a man does. She eased you into the role, and you let her do it, because you loved her. You still do love her, Lou.

She had you quit your job, your only obvious tie to a male lifestyle, so she could express a male dominance over you. I’d give good odds that she’s taken your ass with a dildo, too, back when she tied you down to the bed. Don’t deny it. I can see! It’s written all over your face."

"I --- I ---, no, Joe, I can’t deny that. Why didn’t she say something to me? If that’s true, why did she leave me behind? Why didn’t she just ask me? I’d have done it for her, Joe. I’d do anything to make her happy."

"That’s probably why, Lou. You’d have done it for her, but not for yourself. You told me, and I suppose you told her, that you hated being treated like a sex slave in bed. She needed you as a male in bed for one good reason, to provide her with your sperm. In order to conceive children, she needed a man. She chose you in hopes that your obvious submissiveness would enable you to assume a woman’s role, eventually. You didn’t.

Once you completed the chore of fathering your children, you reminded her too much of her birth gender. No matter what else, you were the man, she was the woman. When you didn’t respond enthusiastically to all her suggestions to act more feminine, she must have realized you didn’t want to be the means for her escape from her birth sex. She probably, --- no, I’d better not lie to you, Lou. I was going to suggest --- but --- in fact, I know the truth. I checked into it. I was about to suggest that you should try crossdressing to see if you could live that way to reunite with your wife.

Your wife went to France to live as a man. I’m sorry. There’s no sense in my beating around the bush. She doesn’t need to have a husband around to remind her of her true sex. She’s living with a guy that worked with her in the office here. He’s her damn personal secretary. I don’t know for sure if they are lovers, but it would make sense. They’re living together.

He’s had final gender reassignment surgery and lives life completely as a woman, full-time. She was taking him with her to those social gatherings, the ones that you hated to attend with her. I suppose you couldn’t tolerate being looked upon and thought of as her kept man. I think she knew it, so she gave up on asking you to. Had you conceded and worn dresses to go to those affairs, no one would have noticed, unless you looked ravenous. . All you had to do was be another adornment for your wife’s inflated ego.

 

You don’t have to worry about her cheating on you with a real man. This guy was a woman inside from the day he was born. He must have started to take feminine hormones before he entered puberty. He doesn’t look anything like a man. You might consider trying to compete with him for your wife’s attention now, but he’s had one hell of a head start on you. "

"How do you now so much, Joe? Where’d you dig up this crazy story?"

"It was easy, Lou. If I hired you without checking, moved everyone around, and you decided to run off to France to be with or near your wife, I’d be stuck with a huge, messy house and an office in chaos. It didn’t take much to hire a detective agency to find out what was going on. Money talks, and bullshit walks. Unlike you, I do a little planning, before I commit resources.

I’m wiling to help you give it a try, Lou. I knew you’d eventually try to do something, if I told you what I found out about your wife, but with my committed support, you won’t be as apt to do anything foolish. Think it over, and let me know if you’re interested. I’m curious enough to find out how you’ll look in a dress, just for the hell of it. I’ll help you, if you want me to help. Say the word, and I’ll butt out if you think I’m meddling."

I sat in the kitchen, stunned, for hours. Joe left for the office without saying another word. He was right. I had to think it over. It was a serious move.

I thought about it all day. While cleaning up the living room, I found a plain manila envelope on the coffee table. The pictures and detailed report from the agency confirmed that Joe was telling me the truth about my wife. If he colored it in any way to suit his own purposes, she was still in Paris, with a guy that looked better than she ever did in a dress. My wife’s hair was cut a lot shorter, and her shoulders looked broader, but other than that she didn’t change a whole lot. I couldn’t look half as good as the guy in drag.

 

Chapter Three.

 

I stared into my wife’s vanity mirror for a long time, for at least two hours. There was no way my chiseled features would allow me to masquerade as a woman. I had a square chin, long nose and big ears. I’d look like a silly clown in makeup. The whole crazy idea was too stupid to work.

I let the phone ring and ring several times throughout the day. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, especially to Joe. I knew he’d give some lame reason for me to seriously consider this morning’s suggestion further. When I looked up and saw him standing behind me, unannounced, it gave me a start.

"What the fuck do you think you are you doing? I’ve called a dozen times! Why didn’t you pick up the fucking phone? I came back to see if you blew your brains out! Couldn’t you have, at least, called to tell me not to bother you? I was worried sick that you overdosed on sleeping pills or something!

What good does it do to brood for hours? That isn’t going to help!"

"Sorry, Joe. I’m must still be in shock. I wasn’t thinking about how you’d be reacting to all this. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay."

"Okay, my ass! You look like shit my man! I know seeing her pictures were a big shock, but I can’t believe you didn’t suspect a thing all these years. She was dressing up like a man back when you still worked for me. It may not be any of my business, but it would be if I have to explain to her, your daughters and the police if I found you lying dead here. You had me going nuts all day at the office. Brood all you want, but have some consideration for people who care about you. Answer the damn phone when it rings!"

"I’m sorry, Joe. I wasn’t thinking."

"You never called your wife or daughters to explain where you are at. You haven’t called either since your wife left for Europe. She’s a stubborn ass too, not to call you, but you should have let the girls know that you’re okay. If you don’t want them to know that you still live here, make up something. Tell them you are going on a vacation for a while.

Your oldest daughter called my office this morning, trying to find out your new home address. Did you ever tell your daughters anything about your coming to see me about getting your job back? It would explain her calling my office, looking for you. I didn’t know what to tell her. I didn’t mention about your keeping half of this place. I told her you asked about a job, but you weren’t hired. What am I supposed to say if she calls back?"

"I must have mentioned something. I don’t recall. Look, I’m causing you a lot of trouble. I don’t want to tell my wife or my girls about how I feel, yet. You must know how it feels to be cast aside. How did you feel when your wife announced to you that she wanted a divorce? Did you feel like talking about it to anyone? I had a tough time telling you, but I had to, so you wouldn’t brush me off about the job. I’m sorry I’m being such a bother.

I’ll do as you suggested. I’ll call the college to leave word with the girls that I won’t be available for a time. I didn’t think they’d be so worried about me.

I’ve been like a household fixture to them for years. They never did voice concerns for me when they lived with me. Why should they now?"

"You’re not thinking straight, Lou. I got the distinct feeling that they care a awful lot about you, only they didn’t have to check up on you because you were always close at hand before. They could see that you were okay. Better let me handle it. If you call them now, the stress in your voice might alert them to your confused state of mind. You know damn well you’ve been depressed since the day your wife left you.

Don’t make matters any worse by interfering with their schooling. I’ll tell them the two of us are going to go off on a cruise together, since I didn’t hire you yet, and we both have some time and money to treat ourselves to a holiday. In the meantime, get dressed up and shave. I asked my doctor to have a look at you. The shock of what you found out about your wife may be more depressing to you than you think."

"I don’t feel like going anywhere, Joe. If you insist, I’ll go see a doctor in the morning. There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m just upset. That’s all."

"The doctor is on the way here. Get your ass in the shower and get ready.

Don’t give me any bullshit. You look like a truck hit you. If you don’t feel up to getting dressed, I’ll get you your robe. Let’s go!"

The doctor was a woman. She examined me thoroughly and asked a lot of questions about my diet, and energy level. She gave me a shot that didn’t put me out, but told me it would help me to relax. It did. I must have let my worries let me get run down to the point of showing. She questioned me again, more thoroughly, once the shot she gave me took effect.

She asked many questions about what gave rise to my obvious depressed state. Joe said she was qualified to ask. She specialized in treating people with unusual lifestyles or habits. Nothing about my life as a househusband would shock her. So I told her everything I knew. Joe politely excused himself while I spilled my guts out to her. Getting it all off of my chest felt good. She didn’t interrupt me much, and took notes I couldn’t see.

When she excused herself to get Joe back, I looked at the notes. It was written in some form of gibberish. I couldn’t make heads or tails out of the funny marks she made on the pre-printed form. Even the text of the form looked fuzzy to me. Must have been a side effect of that shot she gave me. By the time Joe came back with her, I couldn’t keep my eyes focused. They put me to bed. I remember slurring my speech and stumbling on the way. My knees felt like they were made out of jelly.

I woke up with a terrific hangover. Daylight filled the bedroom. I tried to get up. My head was pounding like a bass drum. I decided I was in no hurry. By the time my kidneys demanded that I rise, the shadows along the wall told of the onset of evening. After relieving my bloated bladder, I returned to my bed and slept like a log until the following sunny morning.

The same doctor woke me up. Joe was there too.

"How do you feel?"

"Great! What was in that shot you gave me?"

"A sedative, nothing serious, just something to help you relax. You looked like you really could use a good night’s rest. Do you remember anything about our lengthy discussion day before yesterday?"

"Yes, I remember it all. I’m surprised that I talked so much. I’m usually not one to divulge my innermost secrets to someone I haven’t met. That shot had to be responsible for my loose tongue, Dr. ---?"

"Lillian Parsons. It’s nice to meet you, Lou. You were quite cooperative. It was a very productive first session. You were kind enough to fill in many important details. Joe was very helpful, but he had left out much of why you didn’t agree to become a docile playmate for your wife, because he didn’t know. We both know now, don’t we? It’s personal, and Joe doesn’t know what I’m referring to, so just nod if you remember."

"I suppose. I wasn’t able to admit it to myself, let alone tell someone else. That shot must be something! I really don’t mind if Joe knows, doctor. If it weren’t for his bringing you here, I’d still be living in the dark about that.

Do a lot of grown men deny that, deep inside, unknowingly; they harbor a resentment they were born as men for years before they can freely admit it to themselves? It would have made life s a lot easier for me over the years, if I knew how I felt inside. I could have been a lot more receptive to my wife too, had I known. Instead, I assumed that she was forcing me to behave as I did. I had no idea that I was the instigator."

"It isn’t uncommon; many young children experience fleeting moments of curiosity about what life would be like for them, had they been born as a member of the opposite sex. It’s a healthy curiosity that awakens them to the difference between girls and boys.

In most instances, they ‘grow’ out of it, once the body begins to produce sufficient hormones to rectify the ambiguity. In some cases, the mind of a child incorporates a stumbling block along the way that causes the issue to return with annoying frequency. The developing mind shields the child, by instilling reinforcing thoughts to establish the correct attitudes for the development of a sexual preference for the opposite gender.

A frequent result is a child that displays the nature of the opposite sex and then pursues a homosexual lifestyle, preferring to exhibit the sexual traits of the opposite sex. Professional help at an early age can often rectify the proclivity before it gives them any grief. Others keep their feelings bottled up inside and remain in resolute denial for their entire lives, portraying a normal heterosexual façade while inwardly coveting homosexual urges.

Many adult men have fleeting moments of wondering what life would be like if they were women instead of men. Women have them too. There’s nothing wrong with posing the question to one’s self. In fact, if a person cannot resist the barrage of continual homosexual impulses, it is far more traumatic to associate the condition with fault. Viewing the condition as if something is ‘wrong’ and seek to attribute ‘blame’ leads to recrimination. Unfortunately, the blame is often placed incorrectly.

 

Some can cope, others can’t. You seem like a complacent guy. You hid it from yourself effectively for a long time. It wasn’t important, then. You had a wife that knew about it, and she didn’t seem to mind when you would try to express yourself, either. She even tried to get you to accept your hidden dual personality.

You weren’t ready. Sometimes, it takes a shocking experience to unravel the mental twists and blocks we set once into place in our minds in order to attempt to remain quote: ‘normal’ human beings, if there is such a thing.

You feared exposure to the extent that you hid the condition from yourself better than you hid it from others. Was that such a bad ploy on your part?

I think not. It enabled you to marry, have a family and raise three beautiful children. Your wife and your daughters love you dearly for being what you are, and for how you devoted yourself to their development and growth, not for being your adhering to a version of the ideal human specimen that you implanted inside of your head along the way.

We all have faults. Now that one more of yours has been exposed to you, you must learn to deal with it so you can continue to function successfully, as you did for many years. Hopefully, you’ll be able to get on with your life without too much further strain on the relationships that are most important to you. While you were sleeping off the sedative, Joe sent for your family.

Your wife is downstairs waiting to see you. Your daughters are with her. They’re very intelligent young ladies. They knew, too. They love you very much for always putting their needs ahead of yours. Your wife was content with a husband that was a sensitive and caring individual. Your docile personality compensated for her aggressive nature. She has her faults too, you know. She felt you could continue to be a loving husband and good father without further unnecessarily exposing your innate femininity.

After all, you gave your wife what she needed to successfully make her life fulfilling. Now that she needs a mature woman in her life, that your fears would not allow to come forward, she felt it was time to expose you to the girl you keep hidden inside of you.

It’s often important to let the hidden woman inside of a man to emerge at her own leisurely pace, unless the stress of hiding that side of a man’s personality gets so great, it causes a serious imbalance and threatens the person’s general health. When that happens, a good plan is needed to expose the inner woman without causing a trauma. Your wife, and good friend got together by phone to execute the plan, after you decided to get your former job back and approached Joe for it.

Going back to the times gone by won’t resolve the conflict that has been eating away at you, Lou. It’s time for you to take stock of where you are and proceed forward. Turn around and take a good look into the mirror. Do you still see a chisel-chinned, long-nosed, man? Not hardly. That face is far from what you deluded yourself into seeing. You may not be pretty, but your skin has a definitely soft texture. Your pierced ears are small and well defined. Heavens knows how long ago you began to pluck your brows and your beard has stopped growing from the herbs you’ve been taking, so you hardly look like a man.

Two personalities inside of you fought over what others would think of you for appearing to be the submissive, caring person you are to the outside world. To you, both of your ‘sides’ felt being a nice guy was important too, but when you were all alone with yourself, being a caring mother and wife took on a greater importance. Once the job was done, you couldn’t handle being a happy homemaker any more and you wanted to go back to being one person, the safe one that nobody would ridicule.

You had to try to reassert yourself as a man, to resume holding down the job that once was the only kind of job you could do effectively. Your old job was always a woman’s job, but you convinced yourself that you had to do it as a man. You were afraid to ask your wife if you could go back to work.

Unable to bring up the courage to tell her about the way you felt, you got bitter and resented her for being so assertive and far more successful as the provider. No matter how hard she tried to let you know it was okay for you to be a gentle and polite person, you resented her impressive power. You had to rebel.

You deliberately made her taking you out with her an impossible task to manage. All you had to do was dress as you did when you thought you were all alone. Your clothes were decidedly unisex, not very manly.

You didn’t dress very male at home for several years, yet you resented it when your wife asked you to dress up in casual dress clothes that didn’t convey a totally masculine image to go out with her. You bought some beautifully fashioned clothes that fit your inner personality, but refused to wear them outside of the house. Take a look in your closet.

Everything you purchased in the last ten years has a definite feminine lilt. Cuban heels, stretch slacks with stirrups instead of Dockers, flowery print satin shirts and silk or nylon underwear. You don’t have a single pair of under shorts left with a man’s fly in them. Yet, you refuse to wear anything that would reveal how you feel about yourself in public. You don’t have to be afraid of what people will think. They think it already. When you went to the store, did you think hiding the stirrups in western boots hid the fact that the cut of your slacks was formfitting as well? Your feminine facial features betrayed a male image to anyone who was interested in judging you.

The pomp in your hairstyle went out for men decades ago.

You can be a woman whenever you want to be one, Louise. You filled that role for everyone except yourself for years. Now, it’s time for you to freely indulge yourself, in any way you see fit, as long as you don’t bring shame to your wife or children. Seeing you prance around the house won’t bother them a bit. You’ve been doing it unconsciously for years when you thought they weren’t paying any attention to you. Didn’t you realize that they knew you secretly brushed your hair for an hour, late every evening?

Everyone you love and care for will be glad to help. Your old job is waiting for you. Take your pick. You can start being a woman at work, a man at home or reverse the scenario, or choose to be what you want all the time. You don’t have to fit into a narrow image of what you think others expect you to be anymore. Be yourself."

"I’ll look funny. My jaw is square, my eyes are narrow, my nose is long and my skin is ruddy. "

"Nonsense. We know you’ve been using skin softeners. How long have you been exercising and toning up your pectoral muscles? How many kinds of herbs to you take to heighten the development of your breasts?"

"My what?"

"My friend, a man doesn’t have protruding nipples by accident. You must be taking something to help them along. Shall I guess?"

"No, but I didn’t take them for tissue growth. I merely wanted to feel what my wife felt when I touched hers. Her nipples were always so sensitive to the touch. I was curious, that’s all."

"Then, why didn’t you let her touch them? She tried often. You’d freeze up when she tried and refused to let her embrace them."

"I couldn’t. She’d want to force me into submission and be her sex slave."

"Isn’t that what you wanted her to do?"

"Yes, I suppose I did, but I couldn’t let my wife know I wanted it. Men are expected to be forceful, not submissive. She had a right to expect me to resist being restrained and used by her. It’s unnatural for men to want to be submissive. It’s only okay when the woman forces her reluctant man to be dominated. I didn’t want her to abandon me for wanting it so much."

"Why would she? She goes out in men’s clothes all the time. She’s a very masculine woman. She loves you for being delicate. She wants you to feel at ease about it so she can pamper you in front of her associates as well as at home. Why didn’t you ask her? She would have helped. Instead, you absolutely refused to go out with her socially."

"How could I pose as a woman publicly with this face? I’d embarrass her. I’d be a total failure as a woman. I’d only be a laughing stock."

"You might, as many women would. Beauty is the result of learning how to emphasize the good, and subduing the bad. All you need do is sit with a beauty consultant to find out what will highlight your best features. Your face has fine features that will look marvelous with the proper cosmetics and some professional assistance. Outstanding facial beauty occurs about once out of every hundred cases. The other ninety-nine percent of women spend a fortune to look as good as they can.

By the way, when you went out for cocktails and dinner with Joe, not one person thought he was dating a man. The way you would twirl your fingers through your hair and cross your legs could not be considered masculine.

The bartender told him that your natural beauty needed no makeup. With makeup, more men will find you attractive. How do you feel about that?"

"Men? That’s it! I’d never want to attract men! What kind of parent do you think I am? How would my grown daughters treat me, knowing that men found me attractive? Don’t expect me to ever let my girls think that I want men to look at me with lust in their minds!"

"Again, you are hiding the woman inside of you because of how you think others will feel. That’s commendable, but is it honest? They know that you aren’t happy. Do you want them to continue feeling they are the cause of your severe unhappiness. Why not be honest with them, as well?"

"People have to conform to the roles in life that nature intended. Dressing up as a woman violates nature. I can’t do that."

"Okay. Let’s suppose you are right for one minute. Should all people stop going on vacations, because ignoring responsibilities and playing violates the same rules. We have to conform to behavior befitting our roles in life.

Dancing, partying and drinking excessively all violate prudent behavior. If you suggest we all stop enjoying life because we have responsibilities, we would have to admit that you’d get a poor following to your rules."

"I’m not suggesting you deny your destiny. You have a fine family. What you’ve done is put that responsible role ahead of your personal happiness and repressed your own desires. I’m saying that you should try to accept what you know will make you and your loved ones happier. If that means putting on a dress and having an occasional fling, go for it! If it means you have to live as a woman full-time, do it.

The track you are on now, has led to discontent with your wife, your home, your kids and yourself. You want to go back to work. You can’t go back to your old job wearing the clothes you wear, behaving like you do, yelling ‘I’m a man. I’m a man!’ Your sending out conflicting signals that are more disturbing than embracing the feminine person that is slowly evolving.

You will continue to face problems, but none that are insurmountable. With family help and professional guidance, you can expect to emerge with a healthier attitude about your inner self. Whether you need to express the woman inside on a full-time basis, or subdue the persistent surfacing of the personality that is demanding an outlet for expression remains to be determined.

By facing the issue head on, instead of denying it, you should be able to find a happy solution. That’s all I have to say for now. When you are ready to concede the obvious truth, we can continue. I’ll be happy to guide you. You must first decide if you can stop what is happening, or embrace it. It’s time for you to get off the fence."

The following week, after several long, exhausting talks with my wife about changes in my behavior over the years, I agreed to start a gradual pattern of regularly expressing my feminine image publicly, with Dr. Parson’s help.

She had to return to France. Her professional career was too important to ignore for long. She felt that our marriage served it’s purpose and she would be happy to remain married to me, but would like the freedom to express herself with others, as well. She felt I too, would find an outlet for my newfound freedom of expression.

She was right. I found a great deal more pleasure by wearing my dresses and all the frilly things that went with being a woman. I had fun dressing up to the nines, far more than I had when my obsession with femininity was repressed. Dr. Parsons helped me to accept being a pretty person as she promised she would.

I cashed in some certificates of deposit and splurged on new clothes for myself. Joe liked the styles I chose as much as I did. He said they made my look much younger. I especially like the under-wired bras that gave me a bit of cleavage. I didn’t have any hair on my chest, so it was fun to see Joe and other men’s gazes fixed on the juncture of flesh that peeked out from my new dresses.

I willingly had my hair done, started electrolysis to be rid of my beard, and soaked for hours on end in bubble baths. Being openly female was also affecting my once troublesome sexual appetite. I felt horny again for the first time in years.

A month later, I went out to dinner and dancing with Joe en femme and had a wonderful time. He paid for dinner and all the after-dinner drinks. He’s such a dear. After spending the evening dancing in his burly arms, I invited him to join me for a cozy drink at home. He accepted. I told him:

"The next round is on me".

I remind the reader that this is fiction. Seek professional guidance before you try any of these feats at home.

 

The End.

 

 

© 2000
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