Surprise! A Trilogy

by

RJMcD

 

1. The Bar

Sean realized he was very fortunate. The additional money allowed he and his wife to pay off some bills sooner than they had planned. It also eased the stress of daily living. But the best thing about her promotion was that her new duties included a monthly five-day trip to company headquarters in another state. It was the free time, more than the extra income that he truly valued.

He wore dark stockings because he didn't dare shave his legs. This was one time where he was happy with his genes. A wan-skinned Irishman, he wasn't unusually hairy, and the hairs were strawberry blonde. The stockings hid them without problem.

He pulled his bra tight, so that neither it, or the stuffing in the cups, had any chance of shifting during the evening.

The skirt he chose was short. He knew he had great legs, especially in heels, and he loved to show them off.

The wig was blonde and long. He spent half an hour brushing it before pinning it into place.

A good look in the full-length triptych mirror, and he was ready to go.

Bobby's Joint was a new, and excruciatingly hip club, and on Tuesdays and Sundays they drew a heavy cross-dressing crowd. Alice Longlady came in as MC, and there was usually a guest TV who danced and pantomimed Diana Ross or Madonna. Above all, there was dancing, and Sean – who went under the name Tanya on his nights out – loved to dance.

His dance partners would try to hit on him, of course, but he had developed a purse full of repartees to discourage them. He always made sure to leave at least a half an hour before closing, to avoid those that had a few too many, and were looking for someone with whom to spend the night. That wasn't his scene. He just loved to dress, and he loved to dance.

Bobby's Joint was crowded, which was unusual on Tuesdays. The TV-friendly nights brought in extra customers, but this evening was more like a Saturday. He worked his way through the bodies, looking for Glenda Dynamite or Sally Golightly, the two best friends he'd made at the club. Both loved to party, and both loved to dance.

Halfway through the crowd he felt a masculine hand grab his ass, but when he whipped around it was impossible to tell whose hand it was.

The dance floor was surprisingly sparsely populated. When he got to the edge he saw Glenda Dynamite leading a tall, good-looking guy out to the hardwood dance ring. She spotted him at the same time and waved furiously. He waved back, his bracelet picking up the flashing lights.

"Tanya!" Glenda called. "C'mere!"

Sean eased himself around the edge of the dance floor until he was near Glenda.

"This is Hunky," Glenda shouted over the music. "That's not his name, but I don't know his name. He's a great dancer! You've gotta try him!" She held out the man's hand. Sean looked at his smiling face, grabbed his hand, and was whirled out on to the dance floor.

Hunky was a great dancer, and he directed Sean around the edge of the crowd, spinning and clutching him in perfect time to the crescendos and recessions of the song. When the music segued into another band Sean was breathing hard.

"Let's go!" Hunky said, grabbing Sean's hands.

Sean saw Glenda on the edge of the crowd. "Glenda's turn," he said.

Hunky turned, saw Glenda, and reached out for her.

"Thanks!" Sean said, directing it to both of them.

He turned and saw his wife walking directly toward him.

Sean froze. She was looking right at him, and there was no way to escape.

"Well," she said, when she was close enough to be heard, "fancy finding you here."

He didn't know what to say.

She turned toward the dance floor. "Isn't this place something? I've never been here before, but somebody at work mentioned it. When they postponed the meeting until Thursday a bunch of us decided to come down and have a few drinks. I'm glad we did. Well, I'll see you later, hon'."

She walked back into the crowd.

 

2. The Ring

Tony stared across the river. There was nothing on the other side, other than the same types of trees and bushes that surrounded him. The water was calm and the moon's reflection lit the surface.

Work, party with friends, eat and sleep, he thought. That's all there is to it. We're all just going through the motions. I could take up mountain climbing or skiing, but who wants to do that? Boring. Artificial. What's the point? Every mountain has already been climbed. Every trail has already been skied. Everything has already been done.

He stood up and began walking along the bank.

I could pick out something and try to be the best at it, he thought. But to what purpose? If it was anything impressive, it would be very hard, if not impossible, to be better than absolutely everyone. The fastest miler? The best guitar player? The world's leading expert on ants? There would always be someone coming along who would top me, sooner or later. Then what?

He walked farther along the bank, near the old bridge. He had noticed that he was starting to spend more time by himself in the last few weeks. The partying, and his friends, seemed more and more superficial. It was pointless. They would try hard to get high – though it really wasn't that hard – but not so high that they would pass out. Then they would laugh a lot, and maybe pair off and have sex. Big deal.

A glimmer caught his eye and he bent down to see what it was. Embedded in the mud of the riverbank was a gold ring. He stuck a finger into the mud and pried it out, then rinsed it in the water.

It was apparently a wedding band, but so old and worn that he couldn't make out the inscription on the inside. He started to put it on, but for some reason changed his mind, deciding to wait until he got home.

There was no point staying at the river. Mosquitoes were starting to come out. He went home.

Inside his apartment, he examined the ring under a magnifying glass. The only word he could make out was "To". The rest had been worn away.

It was large enough to be a man's ring, and he slipped it down over his ring finger. It was a struggle getting over the larger knuckle, but he finally succeeded.

Tony Ruccio, married man, he thought. Two point seven kids. Home in a subdivision. Suburban Tony. Cookie cutter life.

He tried to remove the ring, but couldn't get it past the first knuckle. Well, hell, he thought.

He watched TV for a couple hours, and then went to bed.

He forgot about the ring until he was in the bathroom the following morning. He went to wash his hands before shaving and saw it. He used some soap on his finger, and the ring slipped off easily. He put it on the counter, shaved, and went to work.

 

3. The Party

Fred Hallam liked girls. He liked to kiss them, touch them, and have sex with them. He also liked to dress like a girl. He liked to wear make-up, skirts and blouses, and high-heeled shoes.

But the thing that he wanted to do most was have sex with girls, while dressed as a girl. And that was a problem.

Dressed as a guy, he was frequently successful at developing relationships and getting girls in bed. It took a pretty unusual girl to question that process. She might decline, though there was a better chance that she'd accept. In either case, the process was well within her realm of familiarity.

Dressed as a girl, it was easy to develop friendships with girls. Not a lot of them. They had to be fairly open-minded and understanding. It helped if they knew a little about cross-dressing. But there weren't a lot of girls who did, and that cut the odds way down. To find one – out of that small group – that was interested in having sex with a guy dressed as a girl, cut the odds down even further. To zero. He had yet to convince any of his girlfriends to give it a try.

That only resulted in increased fantasies and a more intense desire, of course. In self-defense, when he was dressed he turned into a tease, always tempting but always walking away. That seemed to make it his choice, and not hers, but he knew he was kidding himself.

Until Margot's little dinner party.

He was excited. He was dressed to kill, in a black dinner sheath with a long slit up the side. He'd worn his best jewelry, and it sparkled as brightly as the sequins on the dress. He'd had his red wig done by his favorite cosmetologist, and it oozed class.

Margot introduced the two of them. Margot used Fred's femme name, Purity DeMarco, and introduced the brunette as Anna Botulli.

"I almost expected you to have an accent," Fred said.

"Why? My name?"

Fred nodded.

"Born right here in Philadelphia," she said. "South side. Duh."

"Me, too," he said. "Bryn Mawr, really, but we moved into town when I was three."

She was easy to talk to, had a lusty laugh, and they had interests in common. They sat next to each other at dinner, moving the name cards to do so. He caught Margot's eye during the entree and she winked at him. He winked back. Margot's lover, a skinny model who used the name Chan-Chan, caught the winks and smiled at him, then leaned over to Margot and whispered something. Margot nodded, looked back at Fred as Purity, and smiled again.

Anna caught it all. "They're talking about us," she said.

"I know."

"If we don't go home together, they'll be very disappointed," she said.

Purity blinked. "Uh . . . Well, there's something I should tell you . . ."

"Silly," Anna said. "You don't have to tell a girl. Let's pretend. It'll be fun."

Purity nodded, and she was so excited that she just kept on nodding and grinning.

Anna laughed. She picked up her champagne glass and held it toward him. "To new experiences," she said. "New for me, anyway."

Purity clicked her glass against Anna's. "New for me, too, believe it or not."

"Good!" Annaa said, and there was a giggle in her voice.

As they left Margot's dinner he started to ask one of the world's oldest questions. But before he could get it out, she said, "My place. I'd feel more comfortable there. I'm sharing it temporarily with my big brother, but he's out at a party with his friends tonight. But he won't be back until after two, believe me. That guy does know how to party."

The only signs of her brother were the day bed and open suitcase in the livingroom. The rest of the apartment was pure girl.

"A drink?" Anna asked.

"I think I've had enough," Purity said. "One glass of wine and one glass of champagne is about my limit. But I'll have a Coke or whatever, if you want something."

"No, not really," she said, turning her voice into a seductive purr. She moved in front of him and wet her lips. "This is going to be fun," she said, and kissed him.

Purity was there. He had knocked on heaven's door and it had opened. He had arrived. He was dressed to the nines, with his best and laciest bra and panties, stockings, and most expensive dress. His make-up and hair were perfect. And a beautiful, olive skinned girl was willing to have sex with him.

He undressed her slowly, until she was down to a pair of red thong panties. She seemed unsure about whether or not to undress him, and he didn't do anything that would encourage her. Instead, he took her hand and started down the hall.

"Here," she said, turning toward an open door.

Her bedroom was as feminine as the rest of the apartment, maybe more so, and Purity thought it couldn't have been more perfect. She could pretend it was her room.

Annaa pushed her panties down to her ankles and stepped out of them.

"Now you?" she asked.

The front of Purity's black dinner sheath was bulging, and his member appeared to be furiously trying to extricate itself from its tent.

"Get in bed," he said softly.

When she had reclined, she stretched her arms out to him.

He lifted the sheath, twisting it so the slit moved from the side to the front, and his organ popped free.

"Hey Sis, have you seen my . . . Oh shit!" a male voice boomed.

Purity whipped around, and then froze. Her stiff organ, trailing her hips, kept going, sprung back, and then waved back and forth in front of her.

A huge man, maybe twenty-five years old, filled the doorway. He wore cut-off jeans and a Gold's Gym muscle shirt. He had a neat crew cut and a three-day beard. His muscles rippled when he breathed.

"I . . . I . . ." Purity stammered.

"What the fuck is this?" the man said, moving farther into the room.

Two more equally bulky forms came in behind the first man. They looked like a trio of young Scwartzennegger clones.

"Vito!" Anna hollered. "Haven't you heard of knocking?"

"I'm sorry, Sis," the first man said. "I did knock. I guess you didn't hear me. Sorry to interrupt. Hey, I'm looking for my Bette Midler CDs. For the party. I swore I unpacked them."

"Next to the stereo," Anna said, impatiently, drawing a sheet over her naked body.

"Oh. Thanks." He turned and passed between the other two hulks. One of them stepped into the room and looked Purity in the eyes. Then his gaze shifted three feet south. Then back again.

"Hey, you know, later, if you want," he said, "we're having a party. It's just two blocks over. We've doing Broadway show tunes tonight. Vito does a really good Judy Garland, if you wanna see it. We'd just love to have you."

"Johnny, get the hell out of here!" Anna hollered.

"Oh yeah. Sorry." He looked at Purity again. "Two blocks. Anna can tell you where," he said.

"Johnny!"

"Bye," the guy said.

Purity turned to the bed. He was still shaking. "I think I better be going," he said.

"You don't have to," she said.

"I don't think I could . . ."

"Sure?"

"I think so."

She held his gaze for a moment, and then shrugged. "I understand. Do you want directions?"

"Directions?"

"To the party?"

"God, no. It's just that the moment . . . the magic . . ."

She nodded.

He moved to the bed and kissed her. He had meant it to be a good-bye kiss, but she slid her tongue into his mouth. His lips moved against hers and she responded. And so did he.

 

The End

 

 

 

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© 2002 by RJMcD. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.