(This is the second book of the story of Evelyn. The first book is "The Awakening of Evelyn")

 

The Unveiling of Evelyn

Evelyn D. Fairechild

 

Chapter One – The Aftermath

  

Mimi was there when I received the call and burst into tears, as did I. My parent's plane had gone down between France and Italy. There were no survivors. She had the presence of mind to call Auntie. She also had the presence of mind to 'tidy-up' the guest room, anticipating that Auntie or Suzanne would stay in the room, and to retrieve the photographs she had taken of me so that I could hide them in my room.

Auntie and Suzanne immediately came from San Francisco. Auntie moved into the guest room and Suzanne into mother's room – Auntie didn't want to sleep in mother's room.

The airline took care of bringing their remains back home for burial. They provided a grief counselor – a psychologist in town. He was a nice enough guy and did provide me, in an even and matter-of-fact manner, with ways to deal with the stages of grief I would go through.

My school was very understanding, and, since the semester was nearly over, I was given full credit for all my courses.

There was no cross-dressing during this difficult time. I repressed all those thoughts from my mind, and even remained celibate. I was now on my own and I just couldn't be doing such naughty things. I struggled with my decision frequently, but somehow managed. Auntie made no mention of it – I guessed she sensed that it wasn't a topic that should be broached.

Through all my grief and anguish at losing my mother, Auntie was there to comfort me. She promised me that she'd care for me and watch over me for as long as it took for me to come to grips with losing her. At times in the past, I had wondered what it would be like without my parents – I guess every adolescent entertained such thoughts – but this was real, and I just felt hollow. Auntie, and, to some extent, Suzanne, began to fill the void. I didn't miss my stepfather, however, but I occasionally did grieve for him. Even though we never bonded, I had to admit that he was a good provider. He was never mean to me or my mother, and he didn't deserve to die.

The estate and inheritance was very complicated. There was a huge sum of money involved, which meant that there were lawyers everywhere. Auntie knew a very good estate lawyer who owed her favors, and she brought him out to oversee the settlement.

Auntie was the only surviving family member on my mother's side of my family. My stepfather's mother was still alive, but had advanced Alzheimer's and was living in a nursing home, and he had no other relatives.

My stepfather carried five million in insurance, which would go directly to me, tax free. Unbeknownst to my stepfather, my mother also carried five million in insurance. There was also insurance from my stepfather's firm, which carried a special indemnity clause for business travel, and resulted in fifteen million. In total, I had received twenty-five million, tax-free. My trust fund from my father was around fifteen million, but I was not to receive all of that at once.

But the insurance was a drop in the bucket compared to what my stepfather left – a fortune in stocks, bonds, and property. It was over three hundred million dollars! Much of it would go to taxes, of course, but he had put some of the money into tax-sheltered remainder trusts with my mother as the beneficiary. Since I was mother's beneficiary, the trusts reverted to me. When all was said and done, I would end up with over two hundred million! If all I did with the money was put it into stable bonds paying five percent, I'd receive ten million dollars a year. It was staggering, and Auntie and our lawyers went after the money, making sure that I got every bit of it.

In the middle of all the claims and counterclaims on my inheritance was my stepfather's partner, Richard Manly. Whereas my stepfather was basically a prick, Richard was kind and understanding. He was in his late forties, divorced, and very handsome and fit – even guys had to admit it. He anchored the office in Philadelphia and cleaned up after my stepfather, soothing over the people my stepfather stepped on. I had met him on a couple of occasions and he was always very nice to me. As the lawyers Auntie hired went after the money, he was trying to sort it all out as well, as there were issues about where the money would end up – with me or with the firm. In the end, Auntie began to trust him and we all came to an agreement on an amount of money that we'd keep at the firm for them to manage for a percentage fee. The 'assets under management' was what Richard wanted so that all the other clients would keep their confidence in the firm.

I spent many hours in Richards's office, usually with Auntie and some lawyers, but sometimes just the two of us. He was patient with me and explained the deals my stepfather had made. He became impressed with me and my financial sense and on several occasions told me that he wanted me to eventually come and work for him. But there was also something else going on – when I was alone with him, I felt something – a vibe, a tingling, a sense that he was attracted to me in other ways... and I to him.

Then there was the matter of our two houses – the one where I lived in Pennsylvania, and the new mansion in Buckhead. I didn't care about the Buckhead house at all, but since it was only recently purchased, everyone advised me not to sell it right away, but to wait, spend some money to make it appealing, and sell it at a big profit.

There was massive paperwork, but our lawyers took care of everything. I had to appear in probate court to prove that I wasn't crazy and I was capable of receiving such a sum. I was, in all modesty, impressive – after interviewing me, the judge asked, half-kidding, if I would manage his money! I guess I had learned something from my stepfather after all.

For my court appearance, I thought I should cut my hair. It was way past my shoulders and fell to the middle of my back. I was determined to leave cross-dressing behind, and cutting my hair would be a major step towards that goal. When I informed Auntie and Suzanne, however, they were dead-set against it, and talked me into just trimming it up and keeping it in a rope braid for my court appearance. Suzanne trimmed it for me one afternoon in the kitchen. She cut it so that the sides fell to my shoulders and then angled down to the back. The cut was definitely feminine and actually made it more difficult for me to braid, and I'd have to get Suzanne's or Auntie's assistance to braid it. I complained, and Auntie acquiesced, saying that I could cut it short once I moved out with her.

One day, I approached Richard with an issue I had – I wanted to give Mimi something from the estate. There was no provision in mother's will for Mimi and I wanted to make sure she received something. I suggested a good six-figure check made to look like it came from mother's estate and not directly from me. He helped me arrange it. I went to visit Mimi at her modest but neat house and gave her the check, saying that mother had left it for her. She received it with her typical grace and style, but I know she was excited about the check. I visited with her for a few hours, telling her I was probably going to move in with Auntie. We didn't discuss my cross-dressing at all. She told me that her daughter was expecting a baby, that there were some difficulties with the pregnancy, and that she would probably sell her house and move closer to her daughter. When I left, I had the feeling that I'd never see her again. I started to cry and she gave me a long hug. She told me everything would be fine and that I should never deny who I was – an oblique reference to my cross-dressing.

As the end of the year approached, Suzanne was going back and forth between coasts, and there were boxes leaving the house. Auntie explained that she wanted to take the more valuable things from the house and have them shipped to her house for safekeeping. I concurred, and essentially closed my eyes and let them take care of it all. I did notice that the wardrobe from the guest room had disappeared, and assumed, without checking, that it was put with my mother's things, which were now hanging in clothes bags in her closet. I was fine with this, wanting to leave that part of my past behind. We had sold, given away, or donated most of my stepfather's stuff. When I began to pack my clothes, I meant to leave behind the collection of cashmere and fine wool sweaters, soft denim flare-leg jeans, and velvety corduroy slacks that mother had bought for me. They were all just a bit too feminine, and I wanted to leave that all behind. However, Auntie discovered them and basically told me to pack them because they'd be appropriate for wearing while working at the Gilded Lily.

We found a secretary at my stepfather's firm to live in the house and be a caretaker until we decided what to do with it. She would live in the downstairs bedroom. We put sheets over all the furniture upstairs and basically closed it off.

With a couple of suitcases carrying my clothes, I headed off with Auntie to her house in Tiburon. There were still issues with my full inheritance, and the probate court had ordered a waiting period so that any other claims could be brought fourth

 

Chapter Two – The Boudoir

And so I arrived in San Francisco for a dreary Christmas to live with Auntie and Suzanne and work at the Gilded Lily. Auntie got me top-of-the-line laptop computer and calligraphy set that included pens, paper, and instruction book. Auntie apologized for the presents, saying that she just didn't know what to get me.

When we arrived at Aunties house, we put down our luggage and greeted Suzanne. After a bit, Auntie said, "Come – let me show you your bedroom where you'll be staying. I hope you don't have any issues with it." I didn't know what she was getting at, and replied something about "How could I? I'm just grateful…"

She opened the door to the room where I usually stayed on my visits. The door barely opened because of all the stuff. There were boxes from our house back east, odd pieces of furniture and knick-knacks everywhere – probably from the Gilded Lily – a desk piled high with papers and file boxes, a stack of framed pictures, and a myriad of other stuff. The twin bed that I used to sleep in was a mess, with boxes and other junk spread on top. "You see, dear, we were going to get this room all ready for you before you came, but we haven't had a chance. But, fortunately, Suzanne went on a decorating spree after you left this summer and completely redid the other guest bedroom. Let's go take a look, shall we?"

I tingled when she opened the door and I took in the room. I gasped and said a silent "oh no" to myself, for it was so opulent in an art deco theme, so very feminine, and so elegantly tasteful, that it caused me to immediately think of crossing over that line I had been avoiding. By putting me in this room, Auntie was openly acknowledging and encouraging my cross-dressing.

To the right of the door was the king size bed made of dark teak with four posters that ended in a slightly arched canopy that was trimmed with ivory Battenberg lace and open at the top. At each corner was a mauve silk-like faille drapes with an ivory tulle overlay, extra long so that they puddled on the floor, tied to the bedpost with a burgundy tasseled velvet cord. The headboard and footboard were big and solid with a contrasting curly maple inlayed frame. The ivory sheets and pillow shams were obviously fine linen, trimmed with Battenberg lace and joined to the hems with a mauve satin ribbon. The bedspread was vintage crochet ecru wool chenille resting on top of a mauve satin sheet to show off the open floral crochet pattern.

There was a profusion of pillows, starting with a body pillow that ran the width of the bed. Resting on the body pillow were two large backrest pillows and two regular head pillows. In front of these pillows were three cylindrical bolster pillows, covered with a silver gray embossed satin. One bolster pillow was bigger around and twice as long as the other two, which were stacked on top of the bigger one. Then came two small oval and two small rectangular pillows, each with ivory and ecru crocheted lace shams. Finally, the heart shaped boudoir pillow that Auntie had sent in one of her packages back home. The pillows took up half the bed. I had to suppress my thoughts about how utterly delightful it would be to be dressed in some divine diaphanous delicate peignoir and robe, trying out different pillows on which to take a long lovely outing.

The walls and ceiling were painted with a Tuscan rust color and the baseboards and crown molding were painted ivory. A small chandelier hung down, surrounded by a fancy ivory painted ceiling medallion. The floor was deep pile wall-to-wall ivory wool carpeting.

At the foot of the bed was an empire settee, upholstered with vertical stripes of mauve and ivory satin, with several decorative pillows. On either side of the bed were nightstands with table lamps with mauve tasseled lampshades.

To the left of the bed (standing at the foot of the bed and looking towards the headboard) was a full length window, draped in the same mauve and ivory tulle as the bed canopy drapes. The distance between this side of the bed and the parallel wall was ten or so feet, while to the right, only a few feet, so the bed was not centered in the room. In front of the window was a chaise lounge, upholstered with cream velvet, with a matching ottoman. The chaise was really a work of art, and had one armrest that would serve as backrest, and a partial back that covered about a third of the length. The frame was ornately carved dark wood. An oh-so-soft mauve silk and cashmere throw was draped across the back of the chaise. Behind the chaise was a narrow buffet table the same length as the chaise, containing a compact stereo and DVD system, and a flat-screen television, which could be viewed while lounging on the chaise.

On the wall that ran parallel to the bed was the closet, ending a foot or so before the door to the bathroom. The closet had three mirrored doors. (Auntie later demonstrated how the two end doors bed opened so that they faced each other, forming a large three-way mirror, a rather clever touch.) An ivory painted valance ran along the top of the closet doors, ending in the same puddled drapes as the bed canopy and window curtains. On the floor in front of the closet was a long and narrow antique Persian rug.

Between the bathroom door and the nearest closet door was a cloisonné three panel screen, with Japanese garden scenes and geishas in kimonos. Behind the screen was a slipper chair, upholstered in mauve velvet. The effect of the screen was to make the area between the screen and the window a perfectly luxurious dressing room. Between the bathroom door and the adjoining wall was a small writing desk and chair, both made of walnut and inlaid with exotic woods and mother-of-pearl. The desk had a drop leaf with an old fashioned lock containing a big brass key with a pink tassel.

The wall to the right of the bed also had a window, clothed the same as the other window. On the parallel wall to the right hung a large oval antique silver mirror, the silver streaked dark with age, with a gold gilt frame, positioned between two frosted glass wall sconces.

Facing the foot of the bed was a large art deco vanity made of rosewood veneer, essentially two freestanding narrow chests with a heavy clear beveled glass top placed between them, and a large mirror rising from the floor, framed with rosewood. Wall sconces on the sides of the mirror provided ample light. The vanity chair – a slipper chair with a brass frame back -- was upholstered the same as the settee. On the back frame of the chair were two lengths of tulle, pink and white, tied in a bow around the frame, the long streamers trailing onto the carpet. I couldn't decide if the tulle bow was meant as a gift wrap for the chair, or even the entire room, or if it was just a decorative touch.

To the right of the vanity was an ornate antique walnut chest of drawers, five feet across, with six drawers veneered with fancy birds-eye maple. A rectangular mirror was attached to the chest of drawers, mounted so that it could pivot up and down. Between the vanity and chest of drawers was a low bench, positioned perpendicular to the wall, about five feet long, upholstered in the same cream velvet as the chaise. In the corner to the left of the vanity was a jewelry chest, a beautiful antique made of mahogany and inlaid with various woods and mother-of-pearl. Next to the jewelry case was a rectangular cheval mirror, positioned for viewing from the vanity bench. Between the mirror and the jewelry chest was a large oriental vase with silk bird-of-paradise flowers. Between the mirror and the entry door was an armoire with four drawers.

The bathroom was small but luxurious, with gold fixtures, a limestone tiled floor, and a large white enameled claw-foot tub with a shower ring above. On the bottom of the tub was a removable wood lattice contraption that delivered air bubbles for the bather.

Details began to emerge as I took in the room, like the antique tortoise combing set on the vanity – two combs, two different hair brushes, and a hand-mirror. I then noticed the porcelain figurines and the cut-glass perfume bottles with tasseled atomizers from the guest room back home. Suzanne must have brought the figurines and perfume bottles with her. The vanity also had an oriental vase with pink silk roses. And then I noticed a framed photograph on the writing desk – it was a photograph of me in the Susan Lane wedding gown. I must have drawn in my breath when I saw the photograph, for Auntie and Suzanne just smiled knowingly, and let me drink in the rest of the room. There was another figurine on the writing desk, a lady in a powder blue dress and matching hat, posing seductively, a 1920's period piece. This figurine, I discovered later, was titled 'Evelyn'.

There were paintings hung on the wall -- idyllic impressionist landscapes with ladies in long dresses. There were small recessed spotlights on the ceiling, three pointed towards the vanity, three pointed down to the area in front of the closet, one over the chest of drawers, and two over the bed. The lights over the vanity, closet, and bed were sets that had individual dimmers, as did the chandelier.

"What do you think, dear? Would you be able to stay here for a while - until we can get the other room sorted out? I know it's rather, um, feminine, but that's not an issue for you, is it?" asked Auntie.

I stammered something in reply; my thoughts and senses completely overwhelmed with the opulence, luxury, and femininity of the chamber.

"Yes, it was quite a project, and I loved doing it" said Suzanne. "I'd be kind of disappointed if you didn't spend at least a couple of weeks here" she continued with a mock pout.

"Oh – one other thing dearest," continued Auntie "we've had to store some things from the shop here. I hope you don't mind. Some of them, actually, I was going to send to your dear mother."

She opened the closet doors with a flourish and watched my reaction as I took in its contents. All the dresses, lingerie, and loungewear from the guest room were hanging there.

She pointed them out to me and said "I brought them back, dear, because – I don't know – I didn't feel it appropriate to leave them behind." I was now blushing deep red and tried to say something, but a dry croak was all that I could muster. But these items only took a quarter of the closest space. Half the closest was taken up with all sorts of dresses, skirts, blouses, slips, peignoirs, negligees, pettislips, petticoats, daywear sets, and chemises. There were a dozen or more boxes, mostly cardboard hatboxes, on the shelf and on the floor. (These, I later discovered, contained all sorts of accessories; scarves, hats, gloves, purses, and odd things like lace collars. One contained just ribbons – not the kind for wrapping presents, but lengths of silk and silk-like fabric in a variety of colors.) On the floor were a couple of dozen shoes. "These are things we brought back from the shop for storage. These are the nicer things, and we discovered that if we're stingy with them – only putting out a couple of items a week – we can sell them for twice what we normally could. I don't have anywhere else to put them."

"Oh, the drawers in the armoire are for you to put your things" said Suzanne, and she opened the bottom two drawers of the armoire to show me they were empty. The chest of drawers, I discovered later, had foundations in every drawer. The top two drawers contained the foundations that Auntie had sent mother, but the other drawers were also stocked with foundations - brassieres, corsets, waist-cinchers, garter belts, panties of all types, stockings and garters, as well as a drawer just for scarves. Although most of the items were, as to be expected, 'vintage', since they came from the shop, but some were items were spectacular, the best quality, made of fine silk, and carrying designer labels I was familiar with.

It was a trap, plain and simple. There was no way I could resist the thought of dressing up, not in this room, not with the beautiful things waiting for me. It was as if they intentionally made a den of pleasure for me.

Suzanne said suddenly "Oh – I almost forgot. Give me a sec." and she left the room.

While she was gone, Auntie said quietly "I hope you don't mind that your closet is full of ladies' things, Evelyn. There's just no other place for us to put them." She then added rather coyly. "Of course, my dear, you are welcome to anything in there."

I could only stammer something like "Uh… that's OK, Auntie".

Suzanne appeared carrying a neatly folded robe and pajama set. They were mauve silk charmeuse with ivory piping and were exactly like the robe and pajamas Auntie had given me on my last visit, except for the color. "I bought these a couple of days ago. Look - the color is the same as the drapes. A perfect touch, don't you think?" And with that, she laid them out on the bed. I wondered if, like the set Auntie had bought me, there was a matching chemise, tap pantie, and foundations.

We departed the room and I grabbed my bags and headed back. I stuffed the two armoire drawers with my things, hung a couple of shirts in the closet, and began going through the closet and drawers, discovering the daintie treasures that awaited me. "No… I mustn't… I promised…" I said to myself. I explored the closet and cabinets and made some more discoveries. In the vanity drawers, there was the makeup and cosmetics from the guest room back home, as well as several new kits, along with some scented dusting powder and big lambswool powder puff. The jewelry case contained almost all of mother's jewelry, including the set of pearls she had given me and the rhinestone set Auntie had sent. The armoire contained bed linen and coverings – full sets. There was a mauve satin set, a burgundy satin set, both with picot edging, and a designer floral set in pinks and lilacs. The nightstand contained the two books that Auntie had written. I glanced through them, knowing that I'd give them a thorough reading later.

That evening, it took all my willpower not to dress in dainties for bed. Fortunately, I was fairly tired, and soon fell asleep. The bed was wonderful – the sheets exquisite. There was even a down feather mattress on top of the regular mattress.

 

Chapter Three – Stephanie

The next morning, Monday, I came down for breakfast in jeans and a sweater, feeling refreshed. I had succeeded in not succumbing to my desires the evening before, and I was rather proud of my restraint, but I think I had a bit of edginess about me. Both Auntie and Suzanne expressed disappointment that I wasn't wearing the pajamas and robe. I apologized and promised I'd wear them tomorrow.

The Gilded Lily was closed on Sunday and Monday, but we all went in anyway. Suzanne wanted to show me the bookkeeping system, so I spent the afternoon in front of the computer in the business office, which was located upstairs the clothing, but in a separate room. It was all relatively easy, and I knew that in a week or so, I'd have the system all figured out and would even make improvements that Suzanne wanted. I impressed her numerous times, showing her features of the software that she didn't know existed. This would be a piece of cake, I thought to myself.

Downstairs, where most of the items were displayed and sold, at the back of the store, was the 'sorting room' as Auntie called it. This was where they would bring in all the things they bought at estate sales, auctions, and storage unit repossessions, and sort through them. Auntie explained how they – meaning her, Suzanne, Penelope, and Julie (two ladies I hadn't met yet who had part ownership in the shop), would spend the week getting leads and making purchases, and bring all the stuff to the sorting room. What they didn't use they'd either give to charity or to a couple of Hispanic guys that would resell or recycle them. In return, the two Hispanic guys ("they're really great guys" said Auntie) would do the 'heavy lifting' – moving furniture out onto the floor. They'd also do delivery for customers.

On Tuesday morning, I didn't wear the pajamas and robe as requested and both Suzanne and Auntie were sort of angry at me. "Those are exquisite things, Evelyn, and you're insulting us by not wearing them. Is it too much to ask?"

She also didn't like what I was wearing – jeans and a flannel shirt. She accompanied me upstairs and selected my pair of black corduroy slacks, heather-gray cashmere sweater, and dark blue zip-up sweater jacket. "We should get you some nicer work clothes soon, Evelyn. In the meantime, this will have to do."

Under a bit of a dark cloud, the three of us headed to the shop. I was introduced to Penelope, Julie, and Stephanie. Julie was in her early forties, tall and thin, with blond hair that arched around her face and touched her shoulders. (I discovered later that she was a trophy wife when she was younger – like my mother – but it had all ended in a bitter divorce. Penelope was younger than Julie and was 'pleasingly plump' with an easy smile that showed her cute dimples. She, too, was divorced. Both Penelope and Julie were sweet, friendly women, well-groomed and feminine, and Julie, in particular, quite pretty. Auntie, Suzanne, Penelope, and Julie were all part owners in the shop, and they all dressed very nicely to lend an air of formality and professionalism to the business. They would come and go from the shop depending on what leads and purchases they could make. Even so, there was usually one or two of them in the shop to help out.

When I was introduced to Stephanie and my heart skipped a beat. She was tall – almost six feet, much taller than me, and very 'well built'. She was in her late twenties or early thirties – ten or so years older than me – with wavy brunette hair, streaked with white highlights, shoulder length and tied in a loose bun. She had a handsome face with a strong jaw and dimples and, despite somewhat masculine features, looked serene and feminine. She was British, and although moving to the San Francisco area at an early age, she still had the British accent, which was made even more endearing by a soft lisp. She wore black horn-rimmed glasses that somehow enhanced her beauty. Her gray-green eyes were absolutely stunning. She was wearing a long, tight, black boot skirt that showed off her curvaceous hips, and a red chenille V-neck sweater that revealed her ample cleavage. Her shoes were red Cuban-heeled pumps. (As the week passed, she dressed in much the same manner – long tight skirts and soft sweaters that showed off her curvaceous athletic body.) She had a most feminine grace and carriage in spite of her size, a wonderful smile, and was one of those people that would touch others with her hands when talking, particularly with me. She called me "dear" and "sweetie". I was immediately smitten by her, although there was no possibility of romance between us – she probably had dozens of boyfriends and suitors to pick and choose from, handsome and virile men who knew how to satisfy a woman in bed, something completely foreign to me – I was but a delicate and effeminate virgin.

 

Chapter Four – Auntie's books

That evening, I went to bed early, still feeling the effects of jet-lag. I was wearing a pair of my flannel pajama bottoms and a T-shirt. Unable to fall asleep, I began reading Auntie's books. Both were short – just a hundred pages or so, and I gave them a quick read, figuring I could do some in-depth reading later.

"Embracing your Sexuality" was all about how some cultures, and Americans in particular, repress their sexual libido and erotic desires, much to the detriment of self and society. She argued that many of the ills of American society – its violence and obsession with wealth and power – were rooted in this repression. By definition, she said, our most intelligent and creative people have strong libidos. She said that we have a very narrow definition of "normal" sexual behavior, thereby ostracizing large parts of society that could make tremendous contributions. She said that sexual gratification was a basic right of everyone, and should be pursued without judgment, except in cases of truly deviant behavior (that which causes physical harm, or any activities with pre-pubescent and under-aged children). In a seeming juxtaposition, she was a strong advocate of marriage and commitment to family and child rearing, but only for those whose sexuality was compatible and could make the commitment. In the end, she advocated self-realization of one's sexual needs, the pursuit of happiness through gratification, and a more open and tolerant society.

In the middle of her book, there were several pages that discussed transvestitism, and they gave me goose-bumps. She contended that transvestitism was almost a gift, for most cross-dressers possessed very high intelligence and empathy for others. She pointed to South American cultures that revered transvestites, and discussed the work Dr. Hirschfeld, who argued that transvestites were a third gender, trying, against all barriers, to find a way to live in the way they needed. Auntie was very sympathetic for male-to-female transvestites, echoing something that Mimi had said – girl 'tomboys' are considered cute and attractive, while boy 'sissies' are ostracized. Why shouldn't boys be allowed to express their feminine side? Auntie observed that it was a horrible state of affairs, emotionally draining and unhealthy, and said "I beg readers to provide empathy, compassion, and succor to any third-gender transvestite you are lucky enough to meet, especially adolescences, before they suffer debilitating repression."

'Wow', I thought to myself.

The other book, "The Orgasm Factor", was shorter, and extolled the benefits of orgasms. She went through all the physical and emotional health benefits, citing several studies. One study caught my attention – frequent ejaculation by males was correlated with low rates of prostate cancer and a healthy immune system. She dedicated a big chapter to masturbation, which she said gave the most powerful orgasms since one could precisely time the moment for maximum release. She sprinkled the chapter with quotes from various interviews of people that masturbated frequently – how they arranged their daily affairs so that they would always have time for masturbation, and some of the things they would do to insure powerful orgasms. Another chapter was all about how orgasms released psychic energy that others could feel, and suggested that there was evidence of measurable benefits from 'bathing' in this release of erotic libido. Her thesis was that simply by being near a person having an orgasm, you received a dose of life-force energy, and some people were more receptive to this energy than others. This was a bit 'out there' on the fringe for me, but I couldn't find any basis to disagree.

I was dumbstruck by these books, and couldn't believe that it was my Auntie that had written them. They seemed to be written for me, to tell me that I shouldn't be ashamed about my cross-dressing, but to embrace it, that I was a third gender, struggling against oppression. Her writings told me I was an intelligent and creative person, full of psychic energy and a strong erotic libido, kind and caring, and that masturbating released this energy that might otherwise consume me.

With these thoughts swimming in mind, I gave in and donned the mauve silk charmeuse pajamas, adding a pair of silk panties from the drawers. As soon as I put them on and felt the exquisite fabric on my skin, my last feeble resistance to cross-dressing was overcome. I draped a wash cloth over my daintie (the bath towels were very high quality velour), knelt over the bigger bolster pillow on the bed, and re-read the pages Auntie had written about cross-dressing. I began to pleasure myself, churning ever so gently on the big pillow. I discovered, to my delight, was just how well situated the mirrors were. I was facing the vanity, and I had a full view of myself in the vanity mirror. To my right, the mirrored closet doors showed the entire bed (and then some) and to my left, the oval mirror was positioned such that I was fully reflected in it as well, not to mention reflecting the scene in the closet mirrors. I could see that by opening the closet doors just so, I could produce other views as well. I looked from one mirror to the other, taking in the pretty boy in mauve silk as I churned on the pillow. I only lasted a minute or two before creaming. It had been months since I creamed, and my orgasm was rather disappointing – I was out of practice! After the glow passed and I washed myself, I snuggled in beneath the covers, still in the mauve silk pajamas, and soon found myself all stimulated again. I changed out of the pajamas and into the blush peach negligee that Auntie had sent me long ago, the bodice all lace and the asymmetrical hem a foot of lace, along with the matching all-lace jacket and some delicious panties and a brassiere from the drawers. With the lamps on the nightstands providing a warm glow through their tasseled shades, I settled in for another pillow riding session that lasted a good while, culminating with a gasping toe-tingler that left me still sighing with pleasure a half hour later as I fell asleep wearing the negligee.

The next morning, I overslept and quickly put the negligee away, and fretted for a few minutes before donning the mauve silk pajamas and robe, along with a pair of lace briefs from the drawers. With the robe tightly wrapped around me, I came downstairs where Auntie cheerfully greeted me with "Good morning, sunshine – I'm glad you decided to wear those lovely things". As I dressed for work, I thought about wearing panties instead of my boring 'whitey-tighties', but decided against it.

It was an uneventful day and I spent most of it in front of the computer. Auntie took me to lunch during which she told me that the shop would close at one o'clock the next day due to her 'discussion group'. The group (which Auntie sometimes referred to as a 'ladies society') had a half-dozen or so women that met at Aunties' house every other Thursday from about four o'clock to dinner time, when they all left the house to have dinner at a nearby restaurant. Since Penelope, Julie, and Stephanie sometimes joined the group, and Suzanne always did, they had decided the easiest thing to do was to just close the shop when the group met. This time, however, the group was going to meet earlier, around two o'clock, since they hadn't met in months. When I asked what the discussion group was all about, Auntie replied "Oh, books we've recently read and things having to do with my books and lectures. It's a close-knit little group – we've been meeting for several years now. We haven't met in a while, so there's a lot to catch up on. That's why we're meeting early this time. But it is a ladies-only group, darling, so if you don't mind, I'd like for you to stay in your room while we're meeting. It's so much easier that way. I do want you to meet everyone, of course, since they all know about you. Maybe you could play a piece on the piano for us. But after that, if you could, you know, just stay in your room, I'd really appreciate it. Maybe you could practice some calligraphy or something. We won't be bothering you, and you can have the whole afternoon and early evening to yourself. We should be back around eight o'clock."

Back home that evening, I accidently witnessed Auntie and Suzanne embracing and kissing. My suspicions were confirmed – they were lovers, something they had kept from me, and probably mother. It didn't surprise me or bother me in the least. In fact, it was pretty much a non-event, and was treated like such. We discussed it openly, Auntie and Suzanne pleased that I wasn't the least bit bothered. They didn't fit the lesbian stereotype at all. There was nothing remotely masculine or 'dyke' about either Auntie or Suzanne – they were both passionately feminine.

For bed that evening, I dressed a lovely nightgown and robe that was stored in the closet, meant, I guess, for the shop. The bodice of the nightgown was all white Swiss-dot lace netting, and the gown tied in the back with a long ribbon sash. The gown and robe fabric was a luscious ivory synthetic that had a slight shimmer and gloss. The lapels and sleeves of the robe were all Swiss-dot lace netting as well, with ruffled lace sleeves and lapels. I found a backless and strapless ivory brassiere with a matching waspie in the drawers, both adorned with white embroidery. They were next to the black brassiere and waspie that Auntie had sent with the black velvet wrapped dress, and were from the same manufacturer, exactly the same except for the color. I added bikini panties, embroidered tulip panties, French-cut briefs, and a silk dance pantie with a pink rose embroidered on the left leg, all in an off-white that matched well with the nightgown. Silk stockings and a pair of wide lace garters followed. After applying just a bit of makeup, I was ready to nestle into bed and reread Auntie's books.

  

Chapter Five – The Ladies Society

The next morning, Auntie suggested I wear my fawn colored corduroy slacks and my white cashmere and Merino wool cable-knit sweater to work. While dressing, I couldn't resist and I donned a couple of pretty panties.

We left work at one o'clock and went straight home. Auntie needed my help getting set up for the meeting. We rearranged some furniture, made hor d'oeuvres, and set out china and tea settings. Auntie and Suzanne took turns going upstairs and changing. Suzanne was first, coming back downstairs wearing a long skirt, red roses against navy blue, a white satin geometric-pattern jacquard blouse with a band collar, a white lace shawl with eyelash fringe tied around her waist, high stiletto heeled sandals, and a navy blue straw hat with a white satin hatband tied with a bow in the back, the streamers falling a good foot past the brim. Auntie gave her a hug and told her she looked fabulous. I concurred, and Auntie replied that they all liked dressing up for tea. It was Auntie's turn next, and she came down in a wool blend two-piece suit – a pastel floral pattern against ivory, the skirt long and tight with a multi-layered kick pleat in the back, the jacket a peplum waist with a pink fabric belt, the low neckline revealing a pink satin camisole, an ivory felt hat with a pink hatband, and pink Cuban heeled pumps. Suzanne clapped her hands and said how much she loved 'that outfit' and how happy she was that Auntie had chose it.

Auntie suggested that I take my hair out of its ponytail and brush it out a bit. I raised a bit of a fuss, but she was insistent. So, just before her discussion group arrived, I went upstairs to use the toilet and to let down and brush my hair. I first went to the toilet, and the site of my panties gave me a little thrill. When I left the bathroom, I noticed an open box on the settee, its pink tissue lining opened to reveal a mound of mauve silk and cream Chantilly lace – it was the chemise, tap pant, brassiere, garter belt, thong, and bikini panties that matched the mauve pajamas and robe. Auntie or Suzanne must have put them there while they were upstairs changing and I was downstairs helping to set up. 'Oh Auntie' I sighed as I inspected the delightful garments. Looking around, I saw a cut crystal decanter and a small stemware liquor glass on the buffet behind the chaise. The decanter contained sherry.

Back to the vanity, completely distracted by the box of danties on the settee, I let down my hair and began brushing, struck by reflection in the mirror – I looked so girlish in my soft white cashmere sweater and fawn colored slacks. I was debating whether I should add more foundations and a camisole when I heard the first guest arrive, so I made my way downstairs.

The group started arriving just before two o'clock. Like Auntie and Suzanne, they were dressed up for tea in long flowing floral skirts or dresses, lacey feminine blouses, and high heels. Some wore hats as well. I was introduced, in order, to Vanessa (a tall winsome lady about Auntie's age with long blond hair tied in a bun), Brenda (a handsome, sturdy woman with straight brunette hair, a round face, and round black glasses), Jessica (stylish curly blond hair and lots of jewelry), Raven (a striking brunette with long kinky hair and Mediterranean features), Lacey (red henna hair tied in a burgundy lace headscarf), and Emily (pale and shy with curly brunette hair in a 20's hairstyle and a white velvet chocker). Penelope from the shop was the last to arrive. I overhead that a few others – Melisa and Danielle – couldn't make it. I was looking out for Stephanie, but soon gathered she wouldn't make it.

Each of them (except for Penelope) gave me a warm greeting with an occasional hug, calling me 'dear' and 'sweetie', saying how they were pleased to finally meet Beverly's beloved nephew whom they heard so much about (Raven, I think it was, called me 'Beverly's precious nephew'). Quite a few complimented my hair. They all offered sympathy at the loss of my parents. They were all so nicely dressed and compliments were plenty as they gathered, a few of them asking my opinion on their ensembles (a few actually used that word). They were all pretty in their own way, trim, polished and well-groomed. It was obvious that they were all familiar with hairdressers, beauty parlors, and spas, both because of their appearance and their conversations. Because they were all wearing heels, they were taller than me – I felt rather small and vulnerable in their presence. I was overwhelmed by it all.

Auntie ushered them into the den and I sat down at the piano and played some Mozart for them. They listened attentively and clapped enthusiastically at the end. It was then time for their meeting to start and I discretely made my way up the stairs into my bedroom, locking the door behind me. I poured a glass of sherry and began undressing.

I now had several hours to myself with assurance by Auntie that I wouldn't be disturbed. Except for an occasional outburst – usually a laugh – I could barely hear the ladies downstairs. Since arriving at Auntie's, I had yet to dress in anything but night dressings, and I was looking forward for the chance for a complete dressing. Should I dare do so? After all, there were all these ladies downstairs and something could happen while I was all dressed up. All sorts of paranoid possibilities went through my mind as I undressed, revealing the panties I had worn to work. Still fretting over my predicament, I went to the bathroom and took a little sponge bath in the sink (I might need a shower later, either to remove makeup, or to hide, and I didn't want to take two showers – the ladies might notice). 'Oh, what should I do?' I thought as I applied dusting powder with a big pink powder puff. I was starting to titch a little as I removed the delightful mauve silk foundations from the box and donned them, adding white silk stockings. I had found a pink cashmere twin-set in one of the hat boxes that was a little worn – something I couldn't see myself dressing in, so I cut it apart for pantie napkins. The foundations were followed by the chemise and tap pant and finally, the robe.

I sipped a bit more sherry and closed the curtains, darkening the room. I adjusted the lighting just so, and the room took on a romantic, sensual glow. I opened the closet and considered the possibilities. Should I wear the pink chiffon my mother had brought me? The oh-so-very-very-soft blush pink draped cowl neck sweater and skirt Auntie sent me? Or perhaps the poets blouse and taffeta skirt? Or any of the things meant for the shop, such as the dramatic starlet gown in champagne organza over satin gown, or the soft two-piece winter white angora, or just mix and match any of the several skirts, blouses, sweaters, and jackets?. 'Well', I thought, 'I should dress for tea, since after all, that's what all the ladies downstairs were wearing'.

I selected the chiffon two-piece that Auntie had sent long ago and hung it on the dressing screen. It seemed an appropriate ensemble for tea with its long two-tiered skirt, pink and red roses and lilac, all against ivory chiffon, the asymmetric hem tunic top, and long matching chiffon scarf, which I could use as a hat band. I then went about selecting foundations and daywear. I decided on the camisole, pettislip, and dance panties that mother had purchased to go with the pink chiffon flutter-sleeve dress; muted lingerie pink with ivory Venetian point lace trim and fancy ecru and gray embroidery. These I also hung from the dressing screen. For foundations, I chose the white satin with pink lace set that Auntie had sent, adding several more panties from the collection in the chest of drawers. I laid the foundations on the velvet-covered bench between the chest of drawers and vanity. Oh, what a delightful display of utterly feminine dainties!

I found an off-white felt hat in one of the boxes and tied the matching chiffon scarf around the crown, fastening it with a gold and pearl brooch. A pair of lilac court pumps finished the basic ensemble. For jewelry, nothing but the set of pearls mother gave me would do.

I opened the closet doors so that they formed a three-way mirror, and, as quietly as possible, moved the chaise so that it faced the closet doors, and laid out my daywear on it.

I was still considering if I should go through with dressing up. An hour had passed, and I guessed I had a couple of more hours, at least, until they all left together for dinner. 'How naughty could I possibly be?' I wondered, 'dressing up while there were all these ladies downstairs? Oh, you are such a sissy.' The door was locked, and Auntie had made it clear that she wouldn't disturb me. I wasn't sure if she would try and see me before they all left. She certainly didn't need to. Should I do it? I could hear their voices downstairs. Someone shouted "Oh, you didn't", followed by laughter.

Ever so slowly and carefully, I began to dress. Sitting at the vanity, I could easily reach the foundations and watch myself don them both in the vanity mirror and the cheval mirror. After dressing in the foundations, I applied minimal makeup – I didn't want to go overboard in case I had to remove it quickly. On pins and needles, I went to the closet and sat on the chaise, facing the three-way mirror. I marveled again at how perfect the boudoir was for dressing. So many posing possibilities!

Another hour or so had passed before I was fully dressed and finally presented myself to the mirror, almost swooning at the reflection. Dressed for tea in chiffon and pearls, my cute hat with the chiffon scarf tied about the crown, the streamers cascading down my back, the lilac court pumps so fetching against my thin shapely ankles.

Just for fun, I decided that I should practice my calligraphy as Auntie had suggested. I sat down at the desk, drew out a note card and, while sipping sherry, wrote "Miss Evelyn Fairechild" in the best calligraphy I could do, which wasn't very good at all (I promised I would practice more). I then sat and stared at it for a while. Yes – Miss Evelyn Fairechild – that was me – Miss Evelyn Fairechild all dressed for tea in her beautiful chiffon ensemble. I realized I was probably better dressed than any of the ladies downstairs, and in my mind, I estimated the monetary value of my ensemble and accessories – it was several thousand dollars!

It was then that I knew I was going to have to tell Auntie and Suzanne about my cross-dressing – not that they didn't know already – but I so wanted their approval and understanding. I didn't know when I would tell them, or how, but it would have to happen. These thoughts were all in my mind as went back to the closet mirror.

The house was now so quiet and still. Were the ladies still there, I wondered? I didn't know and, at that moment, I didn't care. It was just so intense. Lounging on the chaise, my panties having descended to my ankles, the moment arrived, and I let out a little cry as my breath was taken away. When I regained my senses, I distinctly heard someone downstairs exclaim "Oh my goodness!" The timing of the exclamation seemed more than coincidental. Slowly, the conversation downstairs started anew and I relaxed a little, letting the glow pass.

Eventually, I donned the nightgown and robe with the Swiss-dot lace netting and put everything away. Thinking again about the timing of the exclamation from downstairs, I looked around a camera or some high-tech eavesdropping device. Of course, there was none. I heard everyone leaving and peeked out the window and watched as they all left, leaving me alone for another few hours.

I glided around the house for a while in the nightgown and robe, and then changed into some jeans and sweater to fix dinner (I didn't want to spoil the nightgown and robe, after all). After dinner, I went upstairs and donned the full mauve silk set; chemise, tap pant, thong, and bikini beneath the pajamas, adding pink tulip flutter panties and French knickers. I went without the brassiere and garter belt – if I got a hug from Auntie or Suzanne, they'd feel the brassiere, and if I wore the garter belt, well, I'd be wearing stockings too, and they'd show on my feet. I put the brassiere and garter belt into the chest of drawers and put the box in the closet, donned the matching full length robe, then went downstairs for some ice cream. I was watching television and eating the ice cream when Auntie and Suzanne arrived. I could tell that they were both a bit tipsy. When they came through the door, Suzanne was hanging onto Auntie's arm, cuddling up to her.

"Hello, angel" said Auntie as Suzanne untangled herself and they both made their way to me. "You were absolutely wonderful today, sweetie" she said as she planted a wet kiss on my cheek. "Oh, you certainly were" Suzanne chimed in.

"You didn't mind being all cooped up in your room for all that time, did you?" she asked – it was more of a statement, rather than a question needing an answer. I gave one anyway, saying "It was fine, no worries."

"You look so cute in those pajamas, muffin. By the way, did you see the box we left in your room?"

"Uh… yeah. And I… um… put the things away" I replied.

"Oh good for you, darling. Thank you" she replied. Before she could say anything more, Suzanne, in a dreamy voice, said "I'm ready for bed now, Beverley".

"OK… well, goodnight then Evelyn. Pleasant dreams, angel. We'll see you in the morning." And with that, they made their way upstairs.

After a few minutes, I shut off the television – there was nothing on anyway – and made my way to my room. I was bored, and was thinking about getting properly dressed for bed in the lilac chiffon peignoir and robe with the white Alencon lace, with its matching bikini and dance pantie that was a gift from my mother, then maybe practicing calligraphy for a while. As I was starting to undress, I heard noises from Auntie's room – she and Suzanne were obviously making love. I heard giggles and little yips and moans of pleasure. Auntie's room was down the hallway from mine, so they were being rather loud in order for me to hear them. My initial reaction was shock, I guess, and then guilt for 'listening in'. I turned on the stereo to mask the noise, but not before I heard Auntie exclaim "Oh you naughty little vixen!" followed by an "Oh yes!" They quieted down, and the stereo masked the quiet moments (I didn't want to turn it up too loud, or it might bother them). As I continued undressing, I could hear occasional moans and yips, but nothing distinct. I laid out the diaphanous lilac peignoir and robe set on the bed and was donning the panties when I heard Suzanne blurt out "Oh Headmistress – I've been a naughty girl!" followed by Auntie laughing loudly and saying "Oh yes you have, little one, yes you have!" A few minutes later, Suzanne was moaning loudly and rhythmically, and, with a shout of "Headmistress", she reached a climax. I thought that might be the end of it, but after a few minutes, more sounds of lovemaking could be heard. Sitting up in bed, I had to smile – they were having unabashed joyous sex, and I should be happy for them, and I was. It made me think back to some of those nights back home when I cried out, and made me long for a lover myself. It also put me in an incredibly dreamy and creamy mood, which culminated with a delightful pillow ride on the bed, holding the hand-mirror in front of me, whispering my O's.

  

Chapter Six – Lunch with Stephanie

The next morning, I was the first one downstairs. Auntie came down, wearing a sheer black robe with black marabou trim and a black chemise beneath. She gave me a kiss on the cheek and said, with a wry smile "I hope we didn't disturb you last night, sweetie".

I smiled back and replied "No, not at all, Auntie. Everything's cool." (And it was – I had thought it all through and resolved to be open and accepting. If I was open and accepting of their sex life, then they would be open and accepting of mine – when I finally came out of the closet.)

"Oh, good. We, uh, drank a little too much I guess. It happens. I'm just glad you're not some prude that gets all embarrassed and weirded out. Just remember, sex is a celebration… be happy."

Eventually, Suzanne came down, wearing azure blue satin pajamas, humming a happy tune.

After breakfast, we had an hour or more before heading off to the Gilded Lily, and I spent it dressing. I first showered and washed my hair, adding some nice conditioner, and then applied some nice bath oil and a bit of dusting powder. I blow-dried my hair and put it in a loose braid, finished with a light blue elastic hair tie. I decided on a pair of my soft and supple denim slacks with flared legs and cornflower blue merino wool and mohair sweater with half-inch ribbing. The sweater was given to me by my mother, and was one of the most feminine things she had ever given me (that was intended to be part of my boy wardrobe). The blended wool was soft and cuddly, with a slight boatneck collar, roomy sleeves with three-inch cuffs, mid-hip length with a three inch band at the hem. Beneath it all, I wore the set of light navy blue silk panne with white Venise lace trim foundations and daywear that my mother had left in the guest room long ago – brassiere, garter belt, French cut pantie brief, short chemise, and tap panties. I was quite nervous about wearing the brassiere – was it a dalliance I might be caught in? – but since it was not padded, it didn't show at all beneath the cuddly sweater. I added blue bikini panties and a sky blue jacquard French cut brief from the chest of drawers, along with blue seamed nylon stockings. I finished the dressing with black socks and a pair of black loafers.

When I came downstairs, both Auntie and Suzanne complimented me, saying I looked very nice, and how the color of the sweater complimented my eyes. Suzanne said it was really cold and damp outside and that I'd need a jacket. She opened the downstairs closet and withdrew a mid-length navy blue wool peacoat that she had me try on. It was just a bit big, but we all agreed it was just what I needed.

I started the morning in front of the computer and was delighted when Stephanie came up and invited me to lunch with her. She was wearing a beautiful dove gray skirt in fine wool and a simple black angora V-neck sweater, a fitted tweed jacket with black velvet lapels, and black kid leather boots. We drove in her car to a very nice French-Vietnamese restaurant with white tablecloths, fresh flowers, and full place settings. We were seated in the corner. I was totally on edge – here I was with this beautiful vivacious woman, dressed in daintie lingerie beneath a soft fluffy sweater and soft denim jeans. I couldn't tear myself away from how I was dressed. It must have been comical to observe me – I'd catch myself doing something really girlish, like holding my wrist limp, or putting my chin on the back of my hand – and then try to correct it, acting more like a boy, overcorrecting, then just giving up.

She told me a bit about herself and how she came to work at the Gilded Lily. She had gone to one of Auntie's lectures one evening and had an epiphany as Auntie spoke. She didn't go into details, but my mind raced as I thought about Auntie's writings. Had she read the part about cross-dressers I wondered? Afterward the lecture, she said, she sought out Auntie at the Gilded Lily to thank her, and really liked the shop. She always had an interest in fine antiques, she said, and after talking with Auntie, one thing led to another and she ended up working there. She really admired and looked-up to Auntie, she said, as did Penelope and Julie. We talked a bit about my parents, and she commented how awful and horrifying it must have been for me. She said she really felt for me and my predicament, as did everyone that knew Auntie.

She reached across the table and gently took my hand, giving it a little squeeze, and said "Your Auntie loves you very much – she speaks of you often. She's very concerned about you, Evelyn, and the difficult time you're going through. You poor thing, coming out here after such a tragedy, all alone – it must be so very difficult for you." She paused a moment and looked me in the eyes. "Evelyn? Would you like to go out with me on Monday? I thought we could go into the city and I could show you around. We could do lunch and a movie, maybe even dinner."

I was so thrilled by her invitation that I had to pause a moment and gather myself. "I'd really like that Stephanie. You're so very kind."

We talked about what we might do on Monday (she'd pick me up around eleven o'clock) and then Stephanie directed the conversation to me, asking me about my music, about living with Auntie and working at the shop, about my college plans (I was still thinking I'd attend the university in the fall). As we left the restaurant, I visited the toilet. As I drew my panties down my stocking'd legs, two contradictory emotions took me: it was so sensual to wear such delicate ladies' underthings and; I had just been asked out on a date by a woman I had a crush on, and if we were going to have any kind of relationship going forward, I could, of course, never cross-dress again.

The rest of the day was a bit chaotic, I had to help out downstairs for a bit, and I was a bit on edge interacting with customers, being as softly dressed as I was. I was also on cloud nine thinking about going out with Stephanie.

We didn't get home until nearly eight o'clock. That evening, Auntie told me that they would be gone on Sunday to check out an antique store that was going out of business to see if they might be able to buy the entire inventory cheaply. The store was south of the city, and they'd probably be gone for most of the day. "Do you want to come along, or would you rather have the house to yourself?" A dozen thoughts rattled around my head – I could spend the day dressing up, what fun! – no! I was going on a date with Stephanie! I'm a young man – I can't be cross-dressing! But maybe this would be the last time, the last hurrah… Stephanie and I would become lovers and I would become a real man, not some delicate sissy furtively dressing in chiffon tea gowns in his boudoir while Auntie entertained her friends downstairs. It was Auntie who saved me from my thoughts, saying "You'd probably find it boring, muffin. Why don't you just let us go and you can have the house all to yourself".

As we were all settling in for the evening, I found myself alone upstairs with Suzanne. In a friendly but conspiratorial tone, she said "Hey Evelyn, got a second? I just want to show you something." She led me to her bedroom. The first thing I noticed was how neat it was – probably a result of her sharing Auntie's bedroom. She walked right past the bed and through the French door that opened onto the balcony. "A little bird told me that you like to smoke cannabis on occasion" she said in a sly, knowing tone.

"Who told you that?" I asked incredulously. It wasn't that I was angry or anything, just curious at how in the world she knew.

"Well, your dear mother came across your stash once and told Beverly, who told me. No big deal, sweetie… I just wanted you to know that I like partaking of the weed myself and that I've got a nice little stash here of really excellent Hawaiian." She nodded her head towards the table on the balcony and a shoebox size wooden box. In a fun-loving way, she showed me the contents of the box – a couple of ounces of weed in a plastic bag and all the necessary paraphernalia. I got a good whiff of the stuff and immediately knew it was top-quality – a few tokes and I'd be worthless for hours. Thankfully, she didn't suggest that we smoke up, rather saying: "You're welcome to this whenever you want. Just smoke outside here, OK? And try to avoid letting your Auntie see you. She smokes on occasion, too, but, you know how it is…" she trailed off. I got the hint – Auntie would feel guilty knowing she was approving of such dubious behavior as letting her nephew smoke pot. I grinned, thanked her, and told her I understood perfectly. I confided to her that I didn't smoke much anymore because it made me 'all paranoid and stuff'. She understood and said it was just my anxieties getting the better of me and I shouldn't listen to them, adding "I've got some anti-anxiety pills you should try. They're pretty harmless, really – standard issue by most doctors – Ativan or something. They're not physically addictive or anything – you'd really have to work at becoming dependent on them. I'm kind of surprised that psychologist the airline got you didn't prescribe you some. They work really well – a pill or two and you're nice and calm. I take them when I can't sleep. They're in my medicine cabinet… why don't you just take one now and see if it does anything for you."

I was reassured by Suzanne's open and honest attitude, and I took her up on her offer, taking one of the little white pills. I didn't know what to expect, but it was certainly anti-climatic. I soon felt calmer and I did sleep really well that night. I also told her that I preferred hashish over marijuana and she said she'd look into getting some – she had a couple of good contacts.

It was a nice bonding with Suzanne. We now shared a little secret and I came away with an appreciation of just how nice and caring she was. I was also thinking of those times back home when I'd get high while dressing, and how I might do so again on Sunday.

 

Chapter Seven – Caught in a Splendid Dressing

Saturday was the busiest day at the shop. We stayed open late to accommodate our customers. Since I knew I'd be helping out downstairs – wrapping and packaging purchases, and working the cash register – I wore my black corduroy slacks and gray Merino wool sweater. No dalliances today – just plain boring boy underwear. I did have a few moments with Stephanie, and she told me she was looking forward our date on Monday. Auntie and Suzanne had found out as well. They didn't make any fuss about it, just saying it was sweet of Stephanie to show me around.

We didn't get home until almost nine o'clock, too tired to do much of anything. Suzanne offered to help me change the sheets on my bed, saying that it was a routine of theirs to change sheets on Saturday. From the armoire, she selected the burgundy satin set and together we made the bed. She suggested that I put the mauve pajamas I'd been wearing into the hamper for washing, along with the used sheets, and find another pajama set to wear. "Something that matches the sheets, don't you think? And… I think I know the perfect set." She went to the closet and brought out the burgundy red satin set that Auntie had sent me – the pajama bottoms, culottes, draped square-neck chemise and the robe, made of a glossy and luxurious synthetic satin. The chemise and culottes were on the same hanger, the chemise with its half-dozen horizontal pleats across the bodice, accented with pink lace netting, and the mid-thigh length culottes accented with the same pleats around the waist. She brought them out and laid them against the burgundy sheets. "See" she said "a perfect match". She then hung the garments from the cloisonné screen. I was about to say something about how I couldn't wear them because they were ladies' things, but she read my thoughts and said "Now, I don't want to hear some nonsense about how you can't wear these because of some silly reason or the other – you're just being a prude."

I exhibited some self-control and refrained from creaming that evening, saving myself for the upcoming luscious and lyrical dressing. I did come down to breakfast that morning wearing the burgundy set, the robe tightly wrapped around me to hide the chemise. Of course I was complimented by Auntie and Suzanne. They left soon after eight o'clock, assuring me that they'd be home by three o'clock at the earliest. I fixed a tray of snacks to take to my boudoir, then I loosened my robe and ascended the staircase to the pleasures awaiting me…

I started by carefully laying out my dressing for the day.

It was centered on a floor-length evening gown meant for the shop, something a Hollywood starlet might wear. It had a surplice wrap bodice of runched ivory duchess organza silk, the wrap of the bodice ending in a rhinestone buckle on the left hip where it joined with sash of the same fabric, ending with two floor-length streamers. The floor-length full circle skirt was a synthetic microfibre delustered satin that had a light and sinuous hand – a long flowing liquid spill of fabric. I couldn't wait to sashay about the room to feel the sensuous fabric against my silk-stocking'd legs, to watch it shimmer in the soft light, the draped fabric folding and unfolding in supple sinuous splendor. It had silk organza cap sleeves, joined at the bodice with rhinestone buckles, and a matching runched silk organza stole. The plunging back meant that I would wear the backless and strapless ivory embroidered brassiere and waspie.

When I held it to myself to measure its length, I realized that the length of the skirt would require the highest heels to prevent the skirt from sweeping the floor. Beneath where the gown hung in the closet was just what I needed – a pair of champagne three-inch stiletto-heeled sling-back D'Orsay pumps, the fastening strap decorated with a rhinestone buckle. I found a matching ivory pleated evening clutch purse, just what a starlet would delicately hold while on the red carpet.

I'd wear the rhinestone jewelry set Auntie had given me to match the accents of the gown. I hung the gown on the dressing screen with the heels beneath.

I laid out the backless brassiere and waspie on the bench. I couldn't help myself and added six panties. First, a lace-paneled bikini pantie, then pink flutter tulip panties lavishly adorned with ecru lace with an embroidered rose on the front panel, a pair of shimmering ivory jacquard high-cut flutter panties, a pair of loose mid-cut panties in lingerie pink with Picot edging, a pair of white satin French knickers, ivory silk tap panties with ivory Alencon lace, and a large exquisite gold silk charmeuse side-button dance pantie adorned with ecru Chantilly lace. Ivory silk stockings and a pair of wide white lace garters with pink baby ribbon would complete my underdressing. In a bit of inspiration, I added long lengths of pink and white silk ribbon to the garters, tying them to the baby ribbon accents of the garters so that the ribbons fell on the inside of my thighs.

Oh, how I took my sweet time, showering and washing my hair (I didn't have time for the long bubble bath I desired), applying lotion, powdering, then donning something to wear while doing my hair and make-up – a simple antique white lace brassiere and matching bikini panties, a fabulous vintage ivory silk crepe full slip, and a cute cap-sleeve peplum waist pink satin bed jacket embroidered with ivory and lilac designs, with chiffon accents, tied with a long satin sash. With the curtains half-drawn, classical music playing on the stereo and a crystal stemware liqueur glass half-full of sherry, I settled in for a sumptuous, sensuous day. Nothing else mattered at that moment – not my date with Stephanie, not the possibility of getting caught – just hours of delicious dressing.

I wanted to do my hair up to do justice to the gown, so I twisted a small bun of hair in the back and fastened it with bobby pins and a rhinestone crusted comb, leaving long strands of hair to fall past my shoulders. I curled each strand with a curling iron I found in the vanity drawers, adding styling gel for hold. The coiffure was just what I was looking for – an elegant and tasteful bun with long fetching strands cascading all about my head and shoulders. For the first time since arriving at Aunties, I felt I could go all out and do full make-up. I brought out my lashes to their fullest with mascara, and even got the eyeliner to go on just right. I chose brown and nude eyeshadow with just a hint of lilac to bring out my eyes. I applied foundation cream, base powder, and then brought out my cheeks with a deep rich blush. My lips were done in a glossy deep pouty reddish brown.

As I was primping at my vanity, I made the decision to take Suzanne up on her offer, so I went to her room, rolled a very thin cigarette, and went to the balcony to smoke. I only took two small tokes, afraid that if I took much more, I'd end up in a nightmarish trip into guilty and shameful thoughts that would completely spoil the wonderful day I had planned. I judged it just right and found myself in a blissful and sensuous mood as I sashayed back to my boudoir and to the closet mirror to undress, tossing my things carelessly on the bed, then minced back to the vanity to don my stockings and foundations. I moved the framed photograph of me in the Susan Lane bridal gown and placed it on the vanity, completely taken by the fragile young beauty caught frozen in time, blurting out an 'Oh, Evelyn' as I turned my attention to my daintie underthings.

Oh how I loved my boudoir! So elegantly feminine, so perfect for dressing and posing, the closet full of beautiful dresses, the drawers full of delicate lingerie. Sitting at my dressing table in my brassiere, bikini panties, waspie and stockings, I took stock of myself in the mirror, fondling strands of my hair. I was starting to get really creamy, so I fumbled about with the pantie napkin, my daintie all moist and so sensitive to the angora napkin. I leisurely drew on the remaining panties, humming with delight. No petticoat today – I wanted to feel the luxurious, sensuous fabric of the gown against my legs.

Back at the closet mirrors, standing in my foundations, I started to titch as I stepped into the gown. It fit perfectly and I cooed with pure delight. A few scrumptious minutes later, there I was, dressed like a starlet in a fabulous gown, sling-back D'Orsay stiletto heels, rhinestones, the organza stole casually draped about my shoulders, long curled strands of hair framing my face, retrieving my lipstick from my clutch purse and finishing off my full lips. How could I ever think that I could possibly give up cross-dressing? The feel of the silk gown against my legs and the way it moved with each step was as delicious as I thought it would be.

The muse struck, and I carefully descended the staircase, holding the gown up slightly so as not to trip, and went to the piano to play. I don't know how long I played, but I played passionately. I was absorbed in a Mendelssohn concerto and when I finished with a flourish, there was gentle clapping. I looked up and there was Auntie and Suzanne, standing at the entrance to the living room, gently clapping.

I was caught! I burst into tears, sobbing uncontrollably. Auntie came to me, hugged me close to her, and guided me to the couch, stroking my hair as I cried into her shoulders, mascara running down my cheeks. Suzanne went upstairs and soon came back down with her anti-anxiety pills, insisting that I take two of them. She sat on the other side of me, comforting me by patting my knee and shoulders, giving me tissues while Auntie stroked my hair and talked to me.

"Shhh, Evelyn, dry your tears, Evelyn, don't be ashamed… it's alright… we understand… don't cry, dearest…. Oh, my dear sweet darling Evelyn… my precious Evelyn… We didn't mean to trick you or anything… we just came home early. I'm so glad we did, though… we've been waiting and waiting and doing everything we could think of so that you could come out in the open and be yourself, be a refined young lady… We were almost to the point of forcing you… You've kept it all bottled up inside and repressed everything and it's so very unhealthy for you… You've read my books, haven't you? You know how I feel about cross-dressers then, don't you? It's part of you… you cannot deny it, darling… no matter how hard you try… Shhh, darling, Shhh… I… we want you to be my pretty niece… our pretty niece… our delicate and lithesome niece in beautiful dresses, just like you're wearing now, sweetheart… you're so very pretty, much too pretty for a boy… you've got to accept that, precious… you'll be so much happier if you just come out and be our niece… Can you dry your tears, dear one? Can you dry your tears so we can have a little talk?

I sniffed and took several deep shuddering breaths. I tried to say something stupid about how I only dressed on rare occasions but Auntie countered with "Now, now dearest, you say that but you know it's not true… you'd much rather be dressed in ladies' things all the time, wouldn't you? Suzanne and I know you do – we want you dress as a lady whenever you can, isn't that right, Suzanne?"

Suzanne stroked my hair and said "Oh, Evelyn sweetie, from the first time I met you I knew there was this delicate and beautiful lady inside of you… I want that lady to come out, I want to help her grow and flower and enjoy her life as a lady, not as some silly boy… When I realized that you were to come live with us, I thought you might insist on living here with us on the masculine side… and I didn't know what I was going to do with that 'other' Evelyn… It had me so worried, because it would have changed my own life for the worse. But now I'm so happy, I'm so happy that you're willing let the real Evelyn come out, to come out where I can help her…"

Now I was crying on Suzanne's shoulders, and she was crying too. Between sobs, I told them how much I loved them for accepting me.

"Evelyn, dear" said Auntie after a few minutes "…and Suzanne. We can all discuss this much more in the weeks to come, but for now, Evelyn has had quite an emotional shock, and I think she – I can call you she when you're dressed, can't I, Evelyn? – I think she needs some time to herself, to gather herself in private. Suzanne, why don't you and I go run our errands then go back to the shop and help Stephanie sort the new arrivals? Evelyn, we'll return around five o'clock – no earlier, precious – and we'll bring dinner. That will give you several hours to yourself to sort through it all. I just want you to know that no matter what, we want you to be happy. So think hard about what makes you happy – and I'm sure you'll find that living as a lady is essential to your happiness. And dear? One last thing… I want you to be dressed as a lady when we get back – I'm not going to allow you to think for a second that you can somehow put this all behind you and forget what just happened. Do you understand me?" She had a bit of an edge in her voice when she said that. I nodded back and said that I would.

Giving me soft kisses on the cheek and whispering endearments, they left, arm in arm.

I sat on the couch, drying my tears, a thousand emotions welling up inside of me. I had been at Auntie's for just a week and a day, and here I was, all dressed… discovered… how utterly humiliating. And then, beyond belief, completely accepted and encouraged – no – actually told to continue dressing. But wasn't that to be expected, given Auntie's books? There was a voice inside of me screaming in anguish – I was pathetic… just a pathetic, narcissistic, submissive cross-dresser. Here I was, a very, very wealthy young man… I was probably on lists of the rich… the world my oyster, and all I could think of was dressing up as a lady. I should be out conquering the world! I had unimaginable wealth… intelligent… and all I wanted was to be cosseted as a refined young lady. I should pack my boy things and run away! Start over… get away from all the temptation! But if I did, whatever would I do? Where would I go?

Then a small voice inside of me said '…so what? You can have a full and meaningful life as a lady…'

I held that thought – it was a safe harbor in a storm of emotions – and let it gather strength. 'Of course!' I thought, giving anchorage in stormy seas – I had so many good things going for me – I was bright and intelligent… I had an excellent mind for finances… I was so wealthy, but I knew how to handle money... I was an accomplished musician… I could make a difference, somehow… maybe in the world of fashion. Sure, I was narcissistic, but not in an evil way. It was just because so few would accept me. I possessed, as Auntie celebrated in her books, a powerful libido… my narcissism was just a phase… I was bursting from a powerful and erotic libido… I would find love, a lover to share, a…

…Stephanie…

Oh, that thought hit me like a slap to my temple. I let out a cry. Stephanie; so perfect, so beautiful, so assured and confident and, for me… the most sensuous woman I had ever met. Was I faced with a choice between her and being a lady? I didn't know. But at that moment, I think I was willing to give her up in exchange for a life of cross-dressing.

I didn't know if it was the anti-anxiety pills that Suzanne had given me, or some epiphany that I had reached, but with a serene calmness, I went upstairs to my boudoir to select an ensemble to wear for dinner, something appropriate for a delicate and cosseted young lady to wear for dinner with her Auntie. The simple pleasure of selecting and laying out a dinner ensemble would give me relief and shelter from the seething caldron of emotions that was, ultimately, causing me such distress that a less resilient person, someone without the strength that I now recognized within me, would just curl up and woefully cry for their lost soul. This little small decision – to dress for dinner – was just what I had been told would help me through the grief of losing my mother – one small decision would lead to another small decision, and then another, until I accepted the ultimate reality – my mother was gone, I had my life in front of me, and I could either wallow in grief or move on and accept who I was.

It didn't take long before I decided on a dress – the velvet burn-out wrap dress in an autumn leaf motif against deep burgundy, an elegant day-to-dinner dress that Auntie had sent me months ago. Although the theme was autumnal, it seemed appropriate for a San Francisco winter. My jewelry would be the exquisite pearl set my mother had given me – the fine single-strand pearl necklace, bracelet, and, especially, the earrings – a half-dozen pearls suspended on a delicate gold chain. I hung the dress from the cloisonné screen and searched for a pair of heels, finding a pair of simple deep red kitten-heeled court pumps. Daywear would be the shimmering silver-gray jacquard camisole, tap pantie, and pettislip that Auntie had sent. What a lovely set, the jacquard catching and reflecting the light just so, the ecru bobbin lace on each piece meant for a lady who would have the means to care for, and gently dress in, such delicate and superbly made garments. It was either Auntie or Suzanne who had found and placed in my lingerie drawers a foundation set to match the daywear, a beautiful set in glistening pewter satin, embroidered with ecru thread with appliqué ecru lace trim. I added seamed black nylon stockings with a rose trellis design running up the side from toe to thigh; stockings that Auntie sent me. I reflected on the origin of all these fine delicate things – my Auntie and my mother.

Other danties were added to the underdressing – a pair of high-cut flutter panties in gray satin jacquard and a pair of cloud gray silk high French-cut panties with ivory scalloped lace trim. Following this were black lace garters, a simple gold chain ankle bracelet with a pearl pendant, and an antique silver hair comb with a row of fresh-water pearls.

I placed and arranged these daintie things in their appropriate place and then stepped back to admire what I had done. It was so very sensual. I stood in the center of my boudoir, the mirrors reflecting the well-dressed young lady that I was as I arranged the organza stole about my shoulders. My frantic thoughts had disappeared, and I sat at my vanity, carefully removing traces of the tears that had streaked my mascara and freshening my makeup.

Mincing and titching, I went to Suzanne's room, retrieved the finely crafted wooden box containing her stash, rolled a cigarette, went to the balcony, and deeply inhaled several tokes of the potent Hawaiian cannabis.

Back to my boudoir… undressing in the three way closet mirrors… revealing the oh-so-exquisite gold silk charmeuse dance panties… completely charged and consumed by the moment… I reached out and touched my reflection in the mirror, my fingers wandering down to my panties…

My orgasm was devastating. The walls of my boudoir seemed to contract and close in on me, the whole house seeming, as a living thing, to catch its breath with each earth-moving contraction, the sound of my cries reverberating off the mirrors and walls. I fell back onto the chaise and lay in stunning afterglow for a good half hour.

It was a little after two o'clock by the time I came to my senses. Wearing a dressing gown, I went downstairs and fixed a sandwich and a pot of strong tea, and returned to my boudoir to dress for dinner.

 

Chapter Eight – Dinner with Stephanie

After an afternoon of dressing in the velvet burn-out ensemble, I waited on pins and needles for Auntie to arrive. I was downstairs playing the piano when Auntie arrived right on schedule.

"You look fabulous darling, just fabulous" she exclaimed as she first hugged me and then had me turn in circles to model the dress. "I knew you'd look great it this when I bought it for you."

Suzanne had dropped Auntie off and had gone to pick up dinner, so Auntie and I had a few minutes to ourselves. She asked me how I fared when they left and spoke again of how she wanted me to dress up whenever I was at home. "And we're going to help you learn how to go out as a lady, too. We think that with just a little bit of practice you'll be able to go out as a lady and no one will ever suspect – you make such a pretty girl, Evelyn. With your thin figure and beautiful clear skin, all you need is a little padding and some coaching, and no one would ever guess that you were anything but Miss Evelyn Fairechild, my lovely niece."

"Oh, Auntie" I replied, "Do you think so? Do you really think I could go out as a girl?"

"Oh, hell, darling… Are you kidding me? Most of the time you're mistaken for a girl as it is!" she laughed.

A few minutes later, I heard the door opening – Suzanne was arriving with dinner. Auntie had gone to the bathroom and I was standing alone in the living room, nervously waiting for her assessment of me. Suzanne came around the corner, putting the bags containing dinner on a table and clapped her hands, saying "Oh, Evelyn, just look at you!"

And then, to shock and dismay, Stephanie appeared – she had come in with Suzanne. She was wearing a long and tight black jersey skirt with pink pin-stripes, a wide black kid leather belt, a pink angora turtleneck sweater, and a snug black crocheted shrug wrap, tied beneath her breasts. I stood transfixed with my mouth open as she scanned me up and down with her piercing gray-green eyes, gave a low whistle and said, in her lilting British accent and enduring lisp, each word striking me to the core…

"Oh… My… Goodness…"

I couldn't tell if she approved or disapproved. I felt numb and I think I was actually shaking.

"Oh… Evelyn…" she whispered.

She strode up to me, placed her hands gently on my shoulders, then slowly let them glide down my arms, taking my hands and raising them to waist level, then spread them apart as if she wanted a fuller view of me.

"You are absolutely… stunningly… exquisitely… beautiful" she said with genuine awe in her voice. She let one hand drop and said "turn around for me, darling, let me just look at you".

I turned slowly in front of her. As I turned, I saw Auntie – she was watching the scene unfold – and she put her finger on her cheek and smiled broadly, a signal for me to do the same. When I finished turning, I faced Stephanie with a broad smile on my face.

She then gave me a big hug, squeezing me close, pressing me against her full, beautiful breasts, saying with delight in her voice "Oh, just look at you, dear! When your Auntie told me, I was so happy for you and I just couldn't wait to see you." She stepped back, and told me I was "just ravishing"

Dinner was a happy and joyous affair. There were questions about my cross-dressing, admissions of how much I enjoyed it, many words of thanks and relief for acceptance, and a discussion of my date with Stephanie the following day. Stephanie said she couldn't wait because she now knew the perfect activity for us – clothes shopping. It was agreed by all that I wasn't quite ready to go out en-femme, but there wasn't any reason I couldn't wear something androgynous – a nice soft sweater, perhaps – and 'lacy little delicates underneath' Stephanie chimed in.

After dinner, we gathered around the television to watch a movie Auntie had selected – My Fair Lady. "I thought this might be appropriate" said Auntie with a wink. I sat on the couch with Stephanie, legs tucked beneath me. We had fun watching, singing along. Stephanie noted similarities between Audrey Hepburn and me, and touched me on my thigh or shoulder many times during the evening.

I was exhausted by the end of the evening, and with kisses from everyone, I made my way to bed, changing into the white Swiss-dot lace netting nightgown, knowing that I'd wear it the next morning when I came down for breakfast, ready for my day of shopping with Stephanie.

To be continued…

  

  

  

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