CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Saturday morning found Dale back at the mall. He was becoming accustomed to shopping there, and he was now familiar with most of the women’s stores, so he knew exactly where he wanted to go. But there was one place he hadn’t visited yet—the beauty shop. He was scheduled for a perm and a complete makeover, but he wanted to finish his shopping first, so he had arrived two hours before his appointment.
Sandy had dropped him off at the entrance and left to run a few errands of her own. Dale had asked her to come with him, but she had refused, telling him he was perfectly capable of shopping for a few clothes. In truth, Sandy no longer found shopping intriguing. It had been different when she was the one wearing the skirts and dresses, but the idea of standing around while Dale moved from one store to another now seemed boring. She had purchased a pair of cell phones the previous day, and she told Dale to call her when he was ready to be picked up.
Dale entered the mall and couldn’t resist the urge to do a little browsing before he got down to the serious shopping. He was wearing his pleated maroon skirt and a matching jacket over a sleeveless, white knit top, and matching pumps with four-inch heels. Though he was bra-less, and his breasts bounced with each step he took, his boobs rode high on his chest—seeming to defy gravity—and his jacket helped hide his lack of foundation. Of course anyone who looked closely could still tell his breasts were unfettered, and plenty of people looked closely at the gorgeous babe in the short skirt and very high heels. Every male with a pulse, and a surprising number of women too, followed his progress as he made his way down the mall. Dale noticed them, of course, but after being undressed by men’s eyes at Boomer’s he didn’t feel embarrassed or self-conscious, and he strode confidently from store to store, his heels clicking on the hard tile floor.
His goal today was to find something to wear to Colleen’s party, in addition to buying a few bras and getting his hair done, so Dale paid particular attention to the dresses in the windows. About halfway down the mall a cute little black dress caught his eye, and Dale decided to see if they had it in his size. He strode into the small boutique and went directly to the racks of dresses. When he found the dress in his size he took it to the changing room and hung his purse and his jacket on a hook before slipping out of his skirt and removing his top. The dress was daring, with very thin straps, a heart-shaped bodice that revealed much of his charms, and full but short skirt with a hem that reached only to mid-thigh. The very low back made wearing a bra impossible, but the dress had a little built-in support for his breasts, and Dale twisted and turned in front of the mirror, noticing that the skirt swirled alluringly around his thighs while the bodice kept his hooters under control, but just barely.
Dale stopped turning and examined his reflection critically. The thin black strings that supported the bodice seemed almost too fragile to contain his generous bustline, yet they did, and he realized they had to be stronger than they appeared. The heart-shaped bodice curved down over his breasts, then plunged downward to a narrow V, showing the full depth of his magnificent cleavage, as well the inward slopes of his breasts. He inhaled and thrust his chest forward to test the elasticity of the fabric and the strength of the straps, and he smiled at his reflection. The dress conformed to every curve, and his large, feminine nipples crowned each perfectly rounded mammary.
A mischievous smile spread across the former man’s face as he contemplated wearing the dress to Colleen’s party. The dress would be a sensation, and Dale was sure it would drive Sandy wild, and that was enough for him. He carefully removed the little black number and took it to the cash register. The check-out girl gave him a knowing smile as she rang up his purchase, commenting that she wished she had the nerve to wear a dress like that. Dale returned her smile, and he couldn’t help noting that the girl could never pull it off—Her figure just wasn’t up to it. With that catty thought he left the store to search for shoes and bras.
It seemed to take forever to find just the right shoes, but Dale finally bought a pair of black, patent leather pumps that had a glittery substance embedded in them. The pumps had four-inch spiked heels, and he loved the way they seemed to sparkle when they caught the light. They really drew attention to his legs, and Dale knew Sandy would love them. He found a small black, sequined clutch purse that went well with the dress and shoes, then he bought several pairs of very silky, sheer black pantyhose.
Dale’s enthusiasm grew as he shopped, and he left the shoe store with a smile on his face. His next stop was a nationally known lingerie store, and he felt no inhibitions at all as he browsed through the various departments. He selected a pair of skimpy, black lace bikini panties to wear with the dress, then moved to the bra department. He emerged a half hour later with just minutes to spare before his hair appointment, carrying a brightly colored plastic bag full of new lingerie, and hurried to the beauty shop.
Linda watched the young woman walk into her salon and was instantly envious of her raw beauty. The girl looked around, seemingly confused, and Linda concentrated on her hair while Cheryl led her over. The young woman had a gorgeous head of golden blonde hair that was tied back in a ponytail, but Linda’s trained eyes could tell the girl hadn’t had her hair done recently, if ever. Despite her natural beauty her new customer was "unpolished" -- an un-cut diamond. She could see it in the amateur manicure and mediocre makeup, as well as her hair, and Linda decided that she would try to talk the girl into the works. She would look so much better, and Linda would make a tidy little profit.
"Linda, this is Robin. She’s your next appointment," Cheryl announced, introducing the young woman.
"Hello Robin. It’s nice to meet you," Linda responded, holding out her hand.
Robin took it awkwardly. "Hi. Nice to meet you too."
"What can I do for you today?"
"I, uh, well, I need my hair styled."
"Sure. Did you have anything specific in mind?"
"Well, no. I was hoping you could suggest something."
"Tell you what, why don’t you glance through this book of styles while I look at your hair. I’m sure we’ll be able to come up with a style that looks good, and is easy to care for."
Linda handed her styling book to her new customer, and had her sit in her chair. While Robin leafed through the book Linda combed through her long, straight hair, testing its texture and body.
"You’re really lucky," she told Robin. "Your hair is nice and full, and it looks like it could just about any style you’d like. Just a bit of advice, though. As you look through the book, look for models that have the same shape face and skin coloring you have."
"I’ll try," her customer replied.
Linda glanced at her customer’s nails and made a note to suggest a manicure, and perhaps even a pedicure. She might also agree to a facial as well as a makeover.
"How does this look?" Robin asked Linda, holding up the styling book and pointing at a particular style. Linda looked over her shoulder and nodded to herself. The style her customer chose was a popular one, with soft curls framing the face and falling to shoulder level in the back. It would suit her coloring perfectly.
"That one would work very well, and it’s really easy to care for," she remarked.
"Okay, let’s do it," the girl said, sounding like she was making a life-changing decision.
Linda had her get up and remove her jacket and slip into a pink smock. When Robin was seated again Linda began washing her hair and talking to her as she worked. She suggested a manicure, knowing from experience that her customers tended to agree to her suggestions while she was gently massaging their hair. When Robin agreed to that Linda launched into her pitch for a facial and makeover, mentioning that they also did pedicures and leg waxings. Robin agreed to everything but the pedicure and leg waxing—indicating she had just shaved her legs that morning.
Dale was surprised at all the decisions he had to make. When he used to go for haircuts he’d walk in the barbershop, sit down, and be done in twenty minutes, but now everything was so involved! He enjoyed the wash and rinse, and while Linda worked on his hair a manicurist came over and began working on his nails. Then came the facial, while his hair was wrapped in a towel, and after that Linda began trimming his hair and rolling it up. After the perm was applied it was over to the dryer. Then it was back to the chair to remove the goop from his face and a thorough cleansing. Somewhere in the process his hair was unrolled and teased and pulled, then trimmed some more. Finally Linda left him in the hands of the makeup artist, who chatted continuously as she worked, plugging various products she was using as she explained what she was doing. Dale was completely dazed and confused by the time it all ended. He did manage to remember most of the makeup and haircare hints they taught him, but he was generally overwhelmed by the experience.
Despite his confusion, and the dizzying variety of cosmetics, creams, and beauty aids, Dale found himself enjoying the attention and the pampering. It was nice to simply sit back and have someone else take care of all of his needs, and he also enjoyed the female banter that Linda and the manicurist engaged in as they worked on him. He listened carefully to everything they said, saying very little himself, and he learned a lot about how women think. Some of their comments about men were hilarious, and Dale never dreamed that women discussed such intimate subjects among themselves. The really strange thing about it, though, was that he found himself agreeing with much of what they said.
When the women were done with him, Linda handed Dale a mirror and he finally got a chance to see what he looked like. He was stunned when he beheld their handiwork, and he just stared at himself for a long time. His long blonde hair now cascaded down in a mass of soft curls, perfectly framing his face, and his face itself was completely transformed. His natural beauty had been highlighted and enhanced by the cosmetics, transforming him into a gorgeous example of femininity. After a few moments he felt the milky softness and disorientation overcome him, and when it finally cleared his perfectly polished lips curled in a slight smile.
"Good lord . . ." Dale breathed.
"Like it, honey?" Linda asked, fishing for a compliment. She knew Robin was pleased from the expression on her face.
"Uh-huh!" Dale managed, still staring at his reflection.
"Good. Now, let me show you how to take care of it . . ."
Dale left the salon with a new makeup kit containing all the cosmetics they had used on him, and proceeded down the mall. He couldn’t help noticing that he was the center of attention of every male over the age of twelve, and for some reason the idea that he attractive made him feel very good. Between his incredible figure, long, shapely legs, and his gorgeous face and hair, he felt completely feminine. It was strange how that didn’t bother him anymore, but Dale was too busy basking in the admiring glances of every man that passed to be concerned with self - analysis. He was looking in a shop window, admiring some jewelry, when he heard a familiar voice behind him.
"Robin—Is that you?"
Dale turned quickly and saw Julie Nordstrom standing a few feet away. The petite brunette was staring at him with an incredulous expression on her face.
"Hi Julie," he replied with a smile.
"Wh-what happened to you?" Julie gasped as she continued to stare.
"Oh, I just had a perm and a makeover. Do you like it?"
"Oh yeah, but that’s not what I meant," Julie replied in a low voice as she came closer. "You’ve, ah, ‘developed’—a lot—since last week. Did you get a boob job?"
Dale blushed and stared down at the floor. He’d forgotten how much he’d ‘blossomed’ since he’d last seen Julie, and now he was at a loss to explain his inflated boobs.
"I—You’re not goona believe this, but . . . I just . . . got bigger," he said lamely.
Julie looked at him cynically for a moment, then shrugged. "If you say so," she replied, sounding hurt.
"No, really, Julie! I—"
"You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to," Julie interrupted, holding up her hand.
Dale opened his mouth, then promptly shut it. He didn’t know what to say to her. All he knew was that the first person who had befriended him after his transformation thought he was pulling her leg, and seemed to be very upset. He had seen how women confided in their friends, much more than men, and he was tempted to explain everything to her, but he held back, fearful she would think he was completely mad or that she would tell someone else and ruin all of Sandy’s carefully laid plans. But it was clear he had to do something. Julie’s hurt feelings would soon turn to anger, and Dale couldn’t bear the thought of losing one of the two friends he had.
The former man sighed, and took Julie’s arm. "Do you have time to talk?" He asked anxiously, hoping he was doing the right thing.
"Sure," his friend replied with a puzzled expression.
"Let’s find a quiet place to sit," Dale suggested.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
"That’s the most incredible, unbelievable story I’ve ever heard," Julie said quietly. "I don’t know whether to laugh or have you committed.
Dale looked at Julie with a desperate expression. "I can prove it, or at least part of it," he insisted.
"How?" Julie asked skeptically.
"Just come with me," Dale replied taking her hand as he rose.
Dale dragged his friend over to the nearest restroom and when he was satisfied there was nobody in any of the stalls he turned towards Julie and pulled up his white knit top.
"Take a good look," he insisted. "Do you see any marks from an incision?"
Julie stared at Dale’s naked boobs and examined the area around his nipples, as well as the base of each breast. As incredible as it seemed there were no marks at all—none.
"I don’t see anything," she agreed, wondering if her friend could possibly be telling the truth.
"Exactly," Dale remarked. "Now, how long has it been since we met?"
"Uh, about ten days," Julie replied.
"Right again. Now, you tell me, is there any type of ‘boob job’ you can get that doesn’t leave a mark—any kind of mark—less than ten days after the procedure?"
"I’m not really an expert on those things," Julie protested.
"Neither am I, but I can’t imagine any kind of surgical procedure that leaves no trace after nine days," Dale said, tucking his top back into his skirt.
"Okay, I’ll grant you the point, but that still doesn’t prove everything. All it proves is that your tits have grown—tremendously—in a little over a week. Your claim that you were once a guy is just too unbelievable," Julie told him.
"But, I don’t have any other proof," Dale exclaimed, tears forming in his eyes. "My clothes, my house, my job, my friends, are all gone! There isn’t anything left!"
Dale collapsed onto the leather couch in the sitting area and began crying, realizing he had made a grave mistake in taking Julie into his confidence. Not only had he failed to convince her, but it appeared that she though he was nuts. Either way he had lost one of the two friends he had in the world. And, if Sandy ever found out she’d kill him!
Julie watched Robin and was moved by her tears. She didn’t know what to think The story was just so fantastic, but if Robin wasn’t insane—and there had been no evidence of mental illness before this—why would she claim to have once been a man if it weren’t true? It was terribly confusing and hopelessly mad, but in the end she decided to give her friend the benefit of the doubt—or at least humor her—until she decided what to do.
"Hey, it’s okay!" Julie said soothingly. She went over to Robin and sat down beside her, putting an arm around her and hugging her. "I—I guess I believe you after all."
Dale wiped the tears from his eyes as he struggled to overcome his strong, feminine emotions."
"Why?"
Julie sighed. "Because it’s too fantastic not to believe," she lied, "and because I want to believe you," she added, ending with the truth.
Dale was overcome with relief and he turned to Julie and hugged her tightly. "Thank you," he whispered. "You can’t imagine what it’s been like—having this happen to me, and not being able to talk to anyone."
"It’s okay, Robin. You can talk to me. Let’s get your makeup freshened up, then go somewhere with a little privacy," Julie suggested.
Fifteen minutes later the girls emerged from the restroom and headed for a bar that was located just outside the mall doors. Julie was even more confused than before, after having to help Robin with her makeup. Robin seemed to know the basics, but she really didn’t know most of the tricks a young woman her age should have learned, and that seemed to lend credence to her story. Julie finally stepped in and showed Robin how to get her new makeover back to where it had been before she began crying, and her friend had listened to her as if much of what she was telling her was absolutely new.
"So, your husband is really your wife?" Julie asked incredulously. They were sitting in a booth in the darkened cocktail lounge, well away from the bar. "How is she taking all this?"
"A lot better than me," Dale acknowledged. "I’m getting used to it, now, but it was really rough at first."
"I can imagine," Julie replied, with the hint of a smile.
Dale shook his head. "I doubt if you really can," he disagreed, taking a sip of his drink—a stiff whiskey and coke. "Everything I had, everything I was—Is gone! My whole life has changed. Instead of sales, I’m a waitress at Boomer’s. I’m 4 inches shorter, 40 pounds lighter, and weak as a kitten. I have tits that won’t quit growing, and I wear skirts, dresses, pantyhose, and—well, you get the idea."
"What about . . . making love. Is it better as a woman or as a man?"
Dale blushed enough to for Julie to notice in the darkened bar. "It’s incredible—wonderful—now, but I really can’t compare," he replied.
"Why not? I don’t understand."
"Because . . . Because I really can’t remember what it was like—before," Dale replied. "I tried the other day, but I can’t even remember what it was like to have a, a—"
"A penis?"
"Yeah. I can remember my whole life, but when it comes to anything sexual, I draw a complete blank. Even the idea of having something hanging down between my legs seems ridiculous. I think it’s part of the changes. Maybe I’m not supposed to remember what it was like. . ."
"Well, how do you feel about being a wife?"
Dale shrugged. "Sandy makes all the decisions now, but—it’s funny—I really don’t mind. She’s much better at planning and finances than I am. I follow her lead and help out where I can. You know—cooking, cleaning, washing. I try to make things easier for her so she can handle the important things."
"Wow, you sound like a housewife from the 50s, a real June Cleaver," Julie remarked.
Dale giggled. "I suppose I do, but I can’t help it—that’s how I feel. I’ve always thought a wife should be supportive of her husband, and I guess that’s me, now. But I’m not June Cleaver. She never waited tables in a crop-top and hot pants."
"Or heels," Julie noted, adding: "She didn’t have your bod, either."
Dale giggled again. The whiskey was getting to him, but he felt so good he really didn’t care. He finished his drink and held it up for a re-fill. The bartender, whose eyes were never away from Dale for a long time, noticed immediately and made the cute chick another strong drink.
"So, how do you like sex as a woman—Is Sandy good in bed?" Julie pried, after the bartender finally left them alone.
"She’s ‘Jim’ now," he reminded Julie, "and she’s fantastic! She makes me feel wonderful! When she’s making love to me I’m in heaven, and I don’t mind being a girl at all."
"Wow! It sounds like Sand—er, Jim is quite a stud," Julie remarked.
"Oh yeah! You wouldn’t believe it," Dale confided. "Sometimes I wish she would keep going all night!"
"You’ve really got it bad," Julie noted with a grin. "I just hope that Nick is that good. I’ll find out this spring."
"Really—When?"
"May 14th," Julie announced with a wide smile.
Dale squealed and the two girls hugged. "I’m so happy for you, Julie!" Dale exclaimed joyfully. "Now, tell me all about it . . ."
Julie filled Dale in on all the details, and they each had another drink while they talked. Dale was fascinated by all the planning and work that went into a wedding, at least from the girl’s side. It had seemed fairly easy when he had been married, but of course he’d worn a rented tux—not a bridal gown. As Julie went over her plans Dale discovered that he actually envied her, and wished that he could have been the bride at his wedding. He imagined himself floating down the aisle in a sea of white satin and lace, with every eye on him as he made his way to his prospective husband to pledge his love, honor and obedience.
Suddenly, Dale noticed the time and gasped. He was supposed to have called Sandy over an hour ago to pick him up. "Ohmigod! I didn’t realize how late it was. I was supposed to call Jim over an hour ago. Now I won’t have time to get ready for the party tonight," he exclaimed.
"What’s the problem? It shouldn’t take you more than a few minutes to change and fix your makeup," Julie noted.
"Yeah, but we’ll have to drive all the way back to the cottage, then come back to the city," Dale told her.
"Well, you have your outfit with you. Why not change here and have Jim come in and go straight to the party?" Julie suggested.
"Yeah, that could work," Dale agreed, reaching into his purse for his new cell phone. "I’ll call Jim now."
Sandy was beside herself. When Dale failed to call she tried to call him, only to discover that he’d turned his phone off. She dressed for the party and went to the mall looking for her ditzy spouse, but there was no trace of him, and she was beginning to get worried. When Dale finally called her she snapped at him and called him a dumb broad, among other things. When she found out that Dale was at the bar with a new "friend" she just about hit the roof, and told her air-headed husband she had been looking all over the mall for him. Dale apologized and explained that the time had gotten away from him, and told her he would change in the ladies room at the bar.
Sandy agreed to meet him there, and she appeared a few minutes later, still in a foul mood. When she saw Julie, though, she forced herself to calm down and be polite. She approached the table where the two girls were sitting and smiled.
"I’m glad you finally remembered we have a party to go to," she reproached her feminine spouse.
"I’m really sorry, honey, but Julie and I met about ten days ago, and when I ran into her again we got to talking, and . . . Oh, Julie, this my, er—husband, Jim. Jim, Julie."
Julie smiled at "Jim" and looked at him closely. She found it hard to believe that the handsome guy had once been a woman, but there was something about the way he took her hand and looked at her that wasn’t quite right. It wasn’t something she could point to, but more of a feeling, and she found herself becoming more and more convinced that "Robin" was telling the truth.
"Well, I’ll go change," Dale announced, rising unsteadily from the booth.
"I’ll help you," Julie offered, noticing how much trouble "Robin" was having with her packages. She grabbed one of the plastic bags and took "Robin’s" arm. "We’ll be right back," she said over her shoulder as she led her friend off to the ladies room.
Even with Julie helping, Dale had a hard time changing. He was more than slightly tipsy, and the high heels didn’t help one bit. He swayed back and forth until Julie was afraid he would fall over and crack his skull, so she had him hang onto the counter as she unzipped his skirt and eased it down. She had him sit down and remove his heels, pantyhose and panties, and handed him his new, black panties. Dale struggled into the skimpy little black bikini panties and remained seated while Julie opened one of the pair of black panyhoe and handed them to him.
"Oh, for crying out loud," Julie exclaimed when Dale had trouble rolling up the hose. "You should be more careful when you drink," she criticized as she took the pantyhose away from him and rolled them up for her friend. "Here. Do you think you can manage to get them on?"
"I—sure, I can do that," he replied with a slight slur in his voice.
Dale crossed his legs, pointed his toes, and slowly rolled the nylons up one leg until they over his knee, then he re-crossed his legs and did the other one. He struggled to his feet and pulled them up over his thin waist, then pulled his top over his boobs and head, trying not to muss his makeup too badly.
"Whew—Nice hooters." Julie commented wistfully as she unzipped "Robin’s" dress and handed it to her.
Dale looked down drunkenly at his pneumatic boobs. They bulged out from his chest like a pair of ripe melons, obscuring everything beneath them. "They’re not too shabby, are they?" He remarked. "Sometimes they’re a real pain though."
"Yeah, well we all have our little problems—except yours aren’t exactly little," Julie retorted.
"Dale giggled—he seemed to be doing a lot of that lately—and held them out for inspection. "They’re a lot bigger than Sandy’s were," he confided with a smile.
"I do believe you’re proud of them," Julie noted as she helped "Robin" pull the dress down over her.
"Y’know, I am," he admitted, surprising himself.
"Well, you’re sure working in the right establishment to take advantage of ‘em," Julie told him.
"Yeah, they’re good for tips. Tips for tits," Dale exclaimed, then burst out laughing.
"You’re hopeless," Julie replied sternly, but with a grin on her face. "But I wasn’t referring to your normal routine over there. I was talking about the wet tee shirt contests they have every month."
Dale stiffened and straightened up when he heard what Julie said. "Oh gawd! I forgot about that completely!" He groaned.
"Relax sweetie, you don’t have to get involved with those if you don’t want to. From what I hear they’re completely optional."
"Thank God!" Dale sighed. "I don’t think I could do something like that," he told Julie.
"Oh, I don’t know," she replied. "For a former guy you seem to have the moves down pat, and I get the impression it wouldn’t take much encouragement to get your top off."
Before Dale could protest Julie handed him his new, lustrous black high heel pumps and ordered him to get into them. He grabbed the wall of one of the stalls and bent over and slipped his feet into the shoes one at a time, then tottered over to the vanity. Julie straightened his dress for him and then did his makeup for him. When he looked presentable she handed him the hanger holding his other clothes, and the bag with his other purchases, and they went out to find "Jim."
"What took so long?" Sandy demanded as they returned to the booth.
"Oh, us girls have a lot to do to get ready. You know how it is," Julie replied, looking Sandy straight in the eye.
Sandy was taken aback by the comment and the look in Julie’s eyes, and the former woman wondered if Dale had said anything, but she quickly dismissed the idea. He wasn’t that stupid, she reasoned.
Before Sandy was able to drag Dale to the car Julie asked "Robin" if she’d like to get together to exercise, and she again mentioned her aerobics tapes. Dale shot a quick glance at Sandy, who nodded her head, and the "girls" mad plans to meet at the cottage the following week. Sandy was reluctant to okay the get-together, but she was afraid that Julie would think something was wrong if she refused.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Sandy kept glancing over at Dale as she drove. Her feminized little husband looked incredibly hot in his little black dress and iridescent heels. His new perm and makeover were perfect, giving Dale a sophisticated, yet sexy look. She couldn’t get over how young and innocent he appeared, and it was hard for her to equate the sweet, young thing sitting next to her to the sexist guy she had married. Her eyes were drawn to Dale’s enticing cleavage, and the way his DDs strained the bodice of his dress.
The short hem of the dress had hiked up when Dale slid into the car, and he was showing a generous amount of his shapely thighs. He had the most incredibly sexy legs Sandy had ever seen—perfectly formed and delicately contoured, and she loved the way his black, patent leather heels sparkled in the light and drew attention to his dainty feet. Sandy had already discovered that she was a "leg man," but one who also appreciated a well-formed breast, and Dale’s entire "package" was causing her to respond in a typically masculine way.
Dale had sobered up a little, and he noticed Sandy shifting uncomfortably in her seat. He smiled to himself as he realized what was happening, and he crossed his legs and let his dress ride even further up his thighs. He was beginning to realize that his pretty face and shapely form were his fortune now, and he was coming to the conclusion that he could use his "assets" for more than tips.
Colleen’s place was a nice condo located at the top of a large hill that overlooked the entire city. It was a left-over from a failed marriage, and she had plenty of room to entertain. She met them at the door with a glass of wine in her hand and squealed with delight when she saw Dale.
"Wow! Lookin’ really hot, Robin," she remarked before turning to Sandy. "You’re one lucky guy, Jim, with a wife like Robin. C’mon in and join the party."
Dale let Sandy hold the door for him, and followed their hostess into a large, sunken living room full of people. A wide, flagstone fireplace dominated one wall, and the opposite wall was nothing but full-length windows that gave an incredible view of the city. Just about all of the 20 or so guests were holding glasses of wine, and Colleen led them over to a buffet, where there were at least a dozen bottles of wine, along with sliced cheeses, various types of crackers, and some specialty breads.
"Help yourself," she told her guests, indicating the wine and food. "The formal tasting will begin in a few minutes, so don’t drink too much now," she warned.
Sandy thanked Colleen and poured a tiny bit of white wine into a glass and handed it to Dale. "Go real easy on the wine tonight, you don’t need any more alcohol in your system," she observed.
"Yes, sir," Dale responded, giving Sandy a casual salute that strained the front of his dress.
"Geez, don’t do that!" Sandy whispered. "Every guy in the room is undressing you with his eyes. If you stretch that little dress much further they won’t have to use their imagination."
Dale giggled and shifted his weight provocatively to one hip. "I don’t think you have to worry—It’s stronger than it looks," he replied.
"And you’re drunker than you think," Sandy observed. "Just take it easy."
"Oh, you’re a stick in the mud," Dale teased. "Remember, ‘girls just want to have fun!’"
"I can see it’s gonna be a long night," Sandy laughed.
"Maybe not as long as you think," Dale replied. "You didn’t even say anything about my hair or my makeover, or even my new outfit." He pouted theatrically, drawing another laugh from Sandy.
"Fishing for compliments already? You got the ‘girl stuff’ down pretty good," Sandy teased. "But you DO look hot, babe. Very hot! I’m going to hate getting the bill for that spray-painted dress, though."
"You men are all alike," Dale retorted. "A girl spends her whole day getting ready, just so she can look pretty for her guy, and all you do is worry about the cost."
"That’s so typical," Colleen remarked, and The couple turned towards the sound of her voice. Colleen had returned unseen, and she was clutching a bottle of wine in one hand and a tall, dark haired man in the other.
"Derek, this is my friend from work, Robin, and her husband, Jim. Guys, this Derek Fleming, my fiancee. Derek is our resident wine expert tonight, as well as a psychologist—Don’t ask how we met."
Dale and Sandy both laughed politely—it was expected of course—and Sandy shook hands with Derek. Dale forgot himself and held out his hand to do likewise, and was surprised when Derek bowed over hand and kissed it.
"Enchanted, my dear," he intoned in a deep, sonorous voice.
"Wow! Me too," Dale quipped with a glance at Colleen. Dale’s entire arm tingled from the kiss, and he noticed that Derek held his hand just a little longer than necessary and gazed up into his eyes with an intense expression. Dale found himself returning Derek’s gaze, but when he tried to turn to Colleen he found he was unable to break away from Derek’s stare. After a moment the tall man looked away, and Dale quickly glanced at Colleen.
"You’d better keep a close eye on this one or some girl will try to steal him away from you," he joked.
"Oh, Derek has a flair for the dramatic, but he’s actually quite boring," Colleen replied with a giggle, earning her a pained look from her fiancee.
"I would like to thank you for that wonderful endorsement of my personality," he remarked with a pained expression.
Colleen took Derek’s arm and hugged him. "That frail masculine ego of yours! We really must do something about your low self-esteem, my dear," she chided her psychologist/boyfriend, drawing a chuckle from everyone, including Derek.
"This is what happens when I leave my professional journals laying around." He turned to his fiancee and remarked, "A little knowledge is dangerous, my dear."
"Oh, go get everyone seated for your lecture, and try not to bore us to death," Colleen responded with a slight shove.
Derek bowed to her, and then to Dale. "As you wish," he replied stiffly.
Colleen watched him leave, then giggled. "Derek really is a hoot! That was all an act. He’s really a kid at heart, but he likes to project that pompous image - says it gives his patients confidence in him—but he’s really just a little boy inside."
"What, exactly, does he do?" Sandy asked.
"He’s an instructor at the university. He teaches abnormal psychology," Colleen replied. "He’s also very knowledgeable about wine, and he’s going to give a short—I hope—presentation about the wines we’ll be tasting.
"I see he’s corralled most of the guests. Why don’t we find a seat?"
Sandy took Dale’s arm and they followed Colleen over to a sofa. Thankfully, Derek’s lecture was quite brief, but he remained in the middle of the room and "introduced" each wine to the guests before it was tasted. There was an impressive array of vintages, and Dale lost track after seven. In between tastes he took a small amount of bread or a cracker to cleanse his palate, but the cumulative effect of the wine, on top of the whiskey he’d consumed earlier, kept him in a state of euphoria.
After the tasting ended Dale made his way to the restroom, and while he was there he took the time freshen his makeup. As he left the room he ran into Derek, and they spoke for a few seconds, but Dale promptly forgot the conversation when he returned to where Sandy was waiting.
"What took you so long?" She asked. "I was hoping to leave a little early."
"I was only gone a few minutes," Dale protested.
"A few minutes? Honey, you were gone over a half hour. I was just about to come looking for you."
"A half hour?" Dale repeated, shocked. "But—"
"C’mon, let’s go," Sandy ordered, and Dale nodded.
They said their good-byes and thanked Colleen and Derek for the nice time, then headed back to the cottage. On the way back Dale began to feel very aroused, and he cuddled up against Sandy, stroking her leg and kissing her neck. He pressed his breasts against her sturdy frame and felt his nipples becoming hard and erect. Sandy tried to concentrate on her driving, but she was increasingly distracted by her horny, feminized husband, and by the time they made it to the cottage she was as hard as a rock and ready to take him immediately.
Then, suddenly, Dale turned coy. He ran for the bedroom as soon as they pulled up, and by the time Sandy made it inside he had locked himself in the bathroom. He promised he would be right out, but it was fifteen minutes before he emerged, and when he did Sandy was stunned at his appearance. Dale had changed into a filmy, white babydoll nightie with matching panties. He was also wearing sheer white, lace topped, thigh-high stockings and a pair of white sandals with very high heels. When he opened the door and saw her staring at him, Dale thrust his weight to one side and planted one hand on his hip and smiled provocatively as his other hand played with his golden hair.
"Do you like what you see?" He asked with a seductive smile.
Sandy let her gaze travel over his voluptuous form. Dale’s perky nipples pushed into the thin filmy fabric of the nightie, and the short little top tented out over his amazing tits. His shapely legs looked incredible in the sexy stockings, and his soft, smooth skin looked flawless in the moonlight. Without a word she walked over to him and picked him up in her arms and carried him into the bedroom. Five minutes later she was making passionate love to her soft, sexy spouse, and Dale was screaming with pleasure. He was insatiable, and when she finished Dale teased her and nibbled at her neck until she was ready to do him again. Once again Dale was transported to the pinnacle of ecstasy, and he moaned and thrashed beneath his masculine wife.
His moans seemed higher and lighter to Sandy’s ears, and when she plunged into him and forced her enormous member into his tight passage, Dale screamed out: "Oh God, Jimmy, don’t stop!"
To be continued . . .
© 2000
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