It all began by mistake. I had spent the morning at home, relaxing in one of my favourite outfits. I was starting to think that work beckoned, and had begun the transition back to drab. I took off my wig and make up, but decided to keep my panties, tights and bra on, as my clothes would hide what I was wearing.
My attention was caught by a news item, and I sat watching the television for a few minutes. My viewing was disturbed by a ring on the door bell, and I went to see who was there.
I opened the door to see a man of about my age. He greeted me with a cheery ‘Hello!’, but I was aware that his attention was not on my face, but rather lower down. It was then that an awful feeling came over me. Not only had I left my underwear on, but I had forgotten to remove the padding from my bra! His eyes were firmly fixed on my burgeoning chest. I was lost for words.
He recovered his composure rather more quickly. “I hope this is not an inconvenient moment,” he offered. “No…no,” I responded, not knowing where to look.
“I’ve just moved in to number 8,” he said, “and saw your car in the drive. I wondered if you might have some milk”. His gazed returned to the two bulges in my shirt.
“Of course,” I replied. Adding, without thinking, “Why don’t you come in?”
As I spoke, I wanted the earth to open up. Here I was, sporting male attire but with bumps where they ought not to be, and I had just invited this new neighbour into my home.
“Thanks,” he said, responding rather too quickly for my liking. “I’m William – but call be ‘Bill’”. “Bill,” I responded. “My name’s Paul.” He looked even more attentively at my bulges, and calmly asked, “Paul, eh? But what do I call you?”
My face felt as though it was sunburned – but I don’t think that was the focus of his attention.
“Sorry,” he said. “If I can have a little milk, perhaps I can call back later - when you’re more prepared for visitors.”
“Yes,” I said, getting some milk from the fridge and handing it to him, “that would be nice.” What
was I saying? What was he thinking
“Thank you.” he said, with a wry grin on his face. “Well, Paul
, I’ll see you later.” He spoke my name as if questioning it. He made his way to the front door, turning as he left to add, “About 7.30 then. Be ready for me”
My heart was pounding. Whatever had I got myself into? Part of me was excited, and part scared to death.
I returned from an afternoon at work, wondering what lay ahead. I dressed in some casual clothes, and waited for my ‘guest’ to arrive. Almost on the dot of 7.30 the door bell rang. I approached the door hesitantly, my heart racing. As I opened it, I saw Bill. A broad smile on his face, and a large bouquet of flowers in his hand. “I bought these for the lady who I thought lives here,” he said, handing the flowers to me. I was overcome, not by the flowers, which were lovely, but by the gesture. “I’ll see that she gets them,” I offered.
As he sat down, his eyes moved to my now flattened chest area. I tried to find something to take my mind off what was going on, and noticed a card on the flowers. It read: ‘To “Paul”. Nice two bump into you earlier today! Bill’
. My cheeks took fire again.
“Have you been home long?” he asked. “No, why did you ask?”, I responded, “It’s just that you don’t look ready to see me.” I was unsure quite what he meant, though my hopes were building.
I sat motionless. Was this a dream come true? There was a long pause.
“Look,” he said, “if you go and get ready- you would like to, wouldn’t you? - I’ll organise some food. OK?” I nodded. “Go on then, Paul
,” he said.
I left the room in a daze. I could never have planned this and I was excited…but fearful. Lots of ‘what ifs’ came to mind. I tried to dismiss them with logical thought, but they kept coming back. Then I wondered what to wear. Casual or smart? Long or short? Was this a social event or something more?
Eventually I decided. I opted for a formal evening gown. I selected my longest wig, applied my make up carefully, sprayed some perfume over my outfit, put on a necklace and matching bracelet, and ventured back to where Bill was. As I opened the door I saw that he had laid the table and lit some candles. Romantic music was playing gently. I entered the room, and saw him. He looked me up and down, and then said just one word: “Stunning!”
He took my hand, looked me in the eyes, and said, “So, what do
I call you? ‘Paul’ seems so inappropriate now!” “Please call me Wendy,” I replied.
“Princess Wendy,” he said quietly, “your meal awaits!”
As we dined I could feel his eyes on me. It was a good feeling to have someone to share my evening with, but I was still unsure quite where we were heading. When we had finished, he stood up, took me by the hand, and led me to the middle of the room. He drew me to him, and began to move with the music. It was wonderful – ‘I could have danced, danced, danced all night!’
All to soon we sat down. It seemed natural to snuggle up to him. He put his arm around me.
“Wendy,” he began. This was it! He called me Wendy! “When you came to the door at lunch time, I thought that you reminded me of someone. I couldn’t believe my eyes. But now you’re properly dressed, I can see who that was. It’s almost uncanny, and I can hardly bring myself to tell you.”
“Oh, Bill,” I responded. “Please tell me – if it’s a happy memory.”
“Dear Wendy….dearest Wendy. Just a few months back I lost my wife. It was sudden and a terrible shock. But it’s just as if I were back with her now!”
I didn’t know how to react. I hoped his happy memories would not be spoiled.
“Bill,” I said, “tell me about her. Tell me whatever you like.”
We sat there for a long time while he related stories of their times together. They had clearly been in love, and it was very moving. As I listened to more of his story, I felt tears welling up. I managed to hold them back for a while, but they eventually broke free. Bill saw me trying to dry them away.
“Please dry your eyes, my sweet girl,” he said. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” He pulled me tighter to him. “I do like a girl who is sensitive.”
Time ran by. I could hardly believe how late it was. Bill apologised, but told me that he had an important business trip, and needed to get home. It was all I could do to let him go, after this most wonderful evening. I hoped it would be the start of many.
Bill stood up and offered me his hand. “When can we meet again?” he asked. I wanted it to be the very next evening, but Bill was going to be away for a few days. We agreed to see each other on Saturday – three whole days away! “Why don’t you come over to my place for dinner?” he asked. “And none of that drab stuff, if you don’t mind! Remember, it’s an invitation for Wendy.”
He gave me a gentle kiss on the cheek. “I’m excited about Saturday already!” he said.
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