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Secrets By Stats I look into the mirror at my tear stained face. All that reflects back to me is a twenty-four year old man who has failed my most inner desire, to appear in public as a woman. Three times I had got to the front door of my condo and three times I turned back a coward. Finally, in a fit of total frustration I remove my clothes and makeup and stare into the mirror. The truth of the matter is that I do not have my act together. Although the mirror shows my hair down to my shoulders, it just isn't a feminine style. Although I have trimmed my eyebrows as much as I dare they still look very masculine. Although I am a small man and quite thin I look much too angular in a dress. On and On I go criticizing my feminine attempts. Finally, I can hold my disappointment no longer and the rush of a good cry breaks through.. Before long, a wail starts which would do justice to any woman. In twenty minutes I have rid myself of the pent up frustration and my sobs are only occasionally bubbling to the surface. I fall asleep in a pool of self-pity; trying desperately to think of ways I can make myself look more feminine. The sound of the doorbell is ringing in my ears. Judging from the light streaming in my curtained window, it is Saturday morning. The clock reads 8:30. I'm not expecting anyone and strangers have difficulty getting by the security gate. So when I open the door I am completely surprised seeing my good friend and secretary, Susan, standing there in her usual sexy pose. How can she look so feminine in just a pink sweater, white slacks and high- heels? And she has no makeup on except for her blood red lips! I decide it is the confidence she radiates. "Well, aren't you going to invite me in Bob?" She says, the ends of her lips curled up in that way that make you feel that she is looking into your soul and extracted your innermost secrets. "Sure, come in Susan, don't mind the place, I haven't started my Saturday morning cleanup yet." Although Susan and I are not romantically involved we are the very best of friends. We kid each other about our shortcomings but no offense is ever taken. I take a lot of ribbing from Susan about my long hair and effeminate frame. Her pet name for me is "Short Stuff" as I am a good inch shorter than her. My pet name for her is "Lard Ass" because over the three years I have known her, her bottom has expanded as it normally does for a twenty-nine year old female. "Too much good living, Lard Ass." I say as I watch her bend over to pick up an article of male clothing off the floor and get a terrific display of her wide white posterior. "How would Short Stuff like a nose job?" She counters as she hangs a shirt over the back of a chair. It was three years ago that Susan came to work for me as my secretary. She is superwoman when it comes to the office and I don't know what I would do without her. We have also become the best of friends but for some reason neither of us felt romantically inclined toward the other. About a year ago we experimented by going up north for a long weekend. All that did was confirm what we both already knew. We were not in love with each other. The sex was O.K. and we both had plenty of orgasms, sometimes simultaneously, but something on both sides was missing, the spark was just not there. For some reason there seemed to be a barrier or barriers. But then again I have never been romantically involved with anyone. For my part, I kept thinking how I really wanted to be a sensuous female making love to Susan rather than trying to imitate a macho male. We then went through a phase trying to set each other up with all our single acquaintances but that phase eventually dried up without success. Although Susan is my best friend, there could be no doubt about it, I have never told her of my transvestite obsessions. I am deathly afraid of her scorn and the possibility she might leave me. I just didn't think anything could be gained by discussing this aspect of my life with her. So it is on this fateful Saturday morning that Susan is to learn of my feminine side. It happens quite simply. Even though I was in quite a state last night I had taken off all my feminine attire, removed my makeup and false fingernails and stored them in my "hope trunk" in my walk- in closet. I then started to cry and by the time I finished crying I had fallen asleep. So in the scheme of things I now find Susan staring at my ten brightly painted red toenails. I completely forgot about them till I look at where Susan is staring and there they are, they couldn't be any more prominent on my gray carpet if they are flashing neon lights. I see them wiggle as they try to bury themselves in the carpet. Both of us are at a loss for words. Finally a faint "opps" comes from my mouth. Susan sits down and continues to stare at my feet. "Beautiful job, Short Stuff. You have something you want to tell me? You have a secret you want to share with your best friend?" I am trapped. There is no obvious explanation. As I look at my toes I realized how perfectly I had applied the three coats of polish. In approval, they give another involuntary little wiggle of ecstasy. There is no way I can bluff this one through. At last, I give a sigh, look her in the eye and say as calmly as I can "Susan, I am a transvestite. There, now you know." I immediately feel a great weight lift off my shoulders. "You are the only one in the world that is aware of this. I hope this won't affect our friendship because you are very important to me." The seconds slowly tick by, how should I interpret her silence. I am in a real state when she finally speaks. "Bob, I've suspected this for some time so I am not totally surprised. I guess I am relieved this finally has come into the open because I never had the courage to bring it up." For the next hour the two friends exchanged information on Bob's obsession and it ended with a detailed description the night before in not going out in public. Bob couldn't help it but the tears start to flow again as he recalls his obsession of wanting to go out and the frustration of not being able to do it. When it is all said they sit in silence for a few minutes as Susan hugs him. Finally she sighs and says, "Well it is time for Lard Ass to take charge of the situation." Before I can say anything Susan is on the phone. "Hello, sleepy head, did I get you up?"... "Too bad. I have an enormous favor to ask you. My friend Bob has asked to go to the party tomorrow night..." "Yes, Mr. Short Stuff..." "I know it's for girls only. That is the point. I need your expertise to turn him into a girl..." "Anyway, can you fit him in sometime this morning for a complete works, facial, waxing, manicure, pedicure, hair and makeup. " "10.00 am OK you got a deal. I owe you one Kathy. Bye for now." "Susan, you can't be serious! There is no way I can appear at a party as a girl, let alone go to a beauty salon. Didn't I just explain to you I get totally freaked out even going outside in the dark of night?" She gives me a sisterly peck on the cheek. "Relax. You are going to have a ball. Now where is your feminine wardrobe?" I continue to protest in the hopes of getting her to change her mind. But Susan knows her way around my stubborn side. Finally, she seats herself across my lap and is tickling me until I give in and tell her about my trunk. After looking over the three skirts, four dresses, five blouses and three pairs of high heels she sums up her feelings in one word, "Pathetic". She selects the most stylish blouse, ivory with long loose sleeves and holds it up to me. She then selects my long black peasant skirt and matching open toe black shoes with a 3-inch heel. She instructs me to find the best matching bra, panties and a slip. I guess she senses my embarrassment and adds "So you wear women's clothing, so what?" "Yeah, so what" I think to myself as I head for the shower. "Don't shave your legs or arms, we are in a hurry. The clothes we have chosen will hide the hair. I have laid out the outfit on your bed, please hurry." When I finish my shower she has me dress and sits me down at my kitchen table. She hands me a hand mirror so I can see what is being done. With an enormous amount of hairspray she manages to curl my hair so that it folds under along my face and over my shoulders. It is definitely very feminine and makes my face appear narrow. After a futile search through my cosmetics she takes her own lipstick, the brilliant red, and gives me a most kissable mouth. She puts her dark sunglasses on me to hide my eyes. I have to admit; my face looks quite feminine, as you really don't notice anything but my lips hair, and the sunglasses. I don't own a purse so she puts my wallet, keys, and security gate opener in her handbag. It is twenty minutes later that I cowering inside at my front door for my first adventure in public dressed as a woman. Susan spots my hesitancy immediately and pushes me out into the world. I take a deep breath as I take acrobatic several steps toward my van. I have all the stealth and grace of a combat soldier. "Stop." Susan says and I almost pee my panties in expectation of some gross revelation like 'where did the newspaper people come from'. "Loosen up. Be graceful. You don't look conspicuous except for that walk. Glide. There, that is better." I start to shake while I am waiting for her to open the van passenger door. I cautiously look around and see my next- door neighbors, Eve and Mary coming out of their condo for their morning jog. Bad, bad timing. They are flight attendants. Eve can best be described as a petite built body designed for one purpose, to support a pair of sizeable breasts. If ever there is a case for female breast envy, Eve is it. Mary is very pretty in a girl-next-store way. She never fails to crack me up with her dry humor. They are only thirty feet away and coming toward me. We make eye contact and not knowing what else to do, I smile. They wave but show no sign of recognition. The door finally unlocks and as they near me I get into the van and close the door. I thank several private gods for my reflective windows as I hide from their view as they are passing. Then my world is shattered. Susan from her controls winds down my window and I am looking straight into Eve's gorgeous cleavage. I instantly become self-conscience of where I am staring and look up into her smiling brown eyes. But Eve is looking at Susan "How are you doing, Susan, off to an early start?" "O.K." Susan replies, How are you Eve, Mary. Yes, I agreed to take Bob's sister here, Roberta, to the beauty parlor." (I guess that is my new name, Roberta, not bad.) "I didn't know Bob had a sister. Pleased to meet you Roberta." Eve again looks at me but shows no recognition. She extends her hand. "Hi," I say as softly as I can, lightly grasping the extended hand. "I can see the family resemblance," Mary says, "but I never imagined ugly ogre having such a pretty sister." I can feel my blush and I smile. Mary launches into one of her monologues. "Roberta, Eve may look harmless but let me tell you there is no more sadistic person on the face of the planet than her. Beware you are caught in her spell." "Our flight was delayed forever. You would think having not got to bed until four am this morning that she would have some compassion. Not an ounce. Not an iota. No, Martha Stewart here is out organizing the world at eight this morning, and who knows how many hours before that. I don't even get a chance to complete my first early morning yawn and she is describing the complete beauty treatment she has given herself. This is in a voice trained to be heard over full pitch jet engines. So that bloody ear shattering vacuum cleaner is no challenge to her. Of course, the washer and dryer are doing their best to cope with all the clothes she could lay her hands on this early in the morning. And above all this mayhem some calisthenics instructor on TV is appealing for us to do multiple sit- ups. It is wakey wakey time with Eve." "This not being bad enough, she wont let me near the coffee machine until after our morning run. Morning run is not a few blocks, we think in terms of marathon training. Not only that, but she checks to make sure I haven't missed any male reactions to her bouncing basketballs as I wheeze my observations while we jog." In spite of my fear, a small giggle escapes me. Susan saves me from having to continue the conversation. She looks at me with her wicked smile as she explodes a verbal bomb. "Roberta will be house sitting for Bob as he is out of town on business. Should be back a week tomorrow. I am sorry but we are already late for her makeover should really go. Please excuse our abruptness," and starts to pull away. "Just knock on our door, Roberta, if you need any help" Mary says. "I will probably be lying dehydrated behind some tree in the next county mumbling something about stepping on male eyeballs but Eve should be home." "Don't be shy, Roberta." Eve says as she looks directly into my smiling face, again. She is mouthing the words, "Good bye," and waves in her usually friendly way as we drive off. "Good job Princess Short Stuff. I told you we could pass you off." I am still shaking when we reach the front gate. Susan uses my gate opener so the guard doesn't have to come out. I have only seen the guard twice before. Thank god it is not Tony. The guard looks at us both with that 'your guilty until you prove innocent' expression. He starts toward the van and I think I am going to have a heart attack. But after a few steps he changes his mind and goes back to his booth. But not without one last scrutiny. Finally he says, "Have a nice day ladies." He shows no hint of recognition. I am finally out but I am not feeling relief. I start to plead with Susan to go back home but then realize for the next eight days only Roberta has a home. I am very nervous and my eyes are darting everywhere for unexpected threats. Finally, the two soft mounds on my chest distract me. They really look realistic. I then see my hands clasped in my lap on the black dress and have to admit I enjoy the sensation of this female posture. My painted toes peep out from the bottom of my peasant skirt and my fear is replaced by a feeling of ecstasy. I wiggle my toes to heighten the rush. The girl in the rear view mirror is a real knockout. Hey, that's me I realize and my mood takes an upward leap. Eventually, we arrive at the mall and Susan parks a good forty yards from the beauty salon. The resolve I have just built up, instantly dissolves. I announce to Susan that there is not enough money in the world to venture beyond my tinted windows. She comes around and opens my door. I sit in the seat with determination, my arms folded under my breasts in defiance of my leaving the safety of the van. "Roberta Wilson, if you don't get out of the van this instant," Susan scolds me like she is talking to a teenage daughter, "I am going to give you a big affectionate kiss. But not before I get everybody's attention by announcing to the world that I am in love with my girlfriend." I suddenly find myself standing outside the van in plain view of about ten people. They all seem to be looking my way. She whispers pointers to me as we walk to the salon and by the time we are at the door no one is paying us any attention. Once inside, I breathe a sigh of relief and take off Susan's sunglasses. How will I ever go back out when the mall will be filled with noon customers? "Well, lets have a look at Bob" I hear from the recipient of the early morning telephone call. This rather plain looking thirty year old comes up to me and introduces herself. "Hi. I'm Kathy." "Her name is Roberta," says Susan with a smile, "Although I call her Princess Short Stuff." Kathy looks me over with a great deal of scrutiny. Like I picture a sculptor looking over a block of granite before hammer and chisel is to be applied. Finally she proclaims, "Susan, I can do it." After a few more minutes she says "get something in red tones. That is definitely Roberta's color." " Something that will show cleavage" she says with an evil smile as she looks for my reaction. Susan tells me that she is going out to get me a 'coming out outfit' and leaves me in the clutches of Kathy and her rather anemic Asian assistant who is introduced to me as Shirley but I give her the title 'Madame Chu'. Madame Chu glares at me like I am a lab specimen. A shiver goes through my body as I sense she loathes all men. Before I have time to get my bearings she announces in a surprisingly authoritative voice "You strip to panties." I look around for Susan to make one last plea but she is gone. So there I am in a pair of black panties and a pink cotton housecoat being directed to what has to be the end of my male existence. The first order of business is to remove hair from all over my body. This starts with my legs as they are cleaned with a hot liquid and then warm wax is spread on each leg. Kathy is in charge of this part of the inquisition and every so often a yelp escapes my mouth as another strip of flesh and whatever is attached to it is ripped off my body. In the meantime Madame Chu is busy filing off a multitude of calluses on my feet, although I swear that amputation is involved. Every so often when I think she is done, my feet are lowered once more into a witch's caldron; I drift off to a semi catatonic state and then, rip! Another couple thousand follicles die an agonizing death while my feet are being turned into prunes. They eventually run out of parts of my legs to torture and Kathy is rubbing sweet scented oil into my denuded skin. It reminds me of when my mother basted a turkey and I look anxiously around for anything resembling a carving knife. "The next time you come in Roberta we will give you a Bikini line" Kathy announces. Next time! Bikini line! My tormentors now turn to my arms. After only a half dozen screams of pain I find that there remains not a single hair on them. If I knew this was going to happen I would have brought a bottle of my good scotch. I know better than to ask if they have any liquor or painkillers on the premises. It would take the fun out of it for them. Mysteriously my nails have been trimmed. As I keep glancing back to my hands I see one nail after another being transformed as if by magic. Finally, there are 10 beautifully sculptured oblong nails moving in harmony as they try to claw their way out of the chair. I would have confessed long before they got to my face but I knew any revelation of my manly sins would only spur them on to greater atrocities. My torturers find my sensitive areas and apply their mid-evil devices and creams. I curse my transvestite obsessions, my friend Susan and my whiskers individually. In between time they practice their inquisition skills on my eyebrows to see if I will pass out. I have decided that Kathy and her assistant have to be man haters to put me through this hell. But then she clarifies the situation with a resigned statement "Beauty demands a price in pain." Before I have time to recover they have spread my face with a substance that reminds me of green hospital walls. The smell confirms that it came from old tombstones. I feel they are about to bury me in a pool of this beauty mud as I sense it invading every pore on my face. While I am unable to move anything above my neck my protagonists are making sure I can't move my hands and feet. I smell the nail polish that is being applied and am searching for clues on the color that has been selected for me. I think white for 'I surrender.' I would simply ask but my mouth has been set in the concrete mask. The thought crosses my mind that several women I have known in the past have described this procedure as 'being pampered'. As my face stiffens I imagine that I am being embalmed. I try to recall if any of these past heroines were masochistic in any way. I could only recall one of them that had harmful tendencies. She was forever jamming her hand in car doors, photocopiers, refrigerators, etc. When my face is released from its prison I see Susan looking at me fondly. She is holding an incredibly gorgeous dress. It is the purest color of red I have ever seen. As she moves it, a subtle change in a hidden design takes place. I suddenly realize that all the female clothes I had were chosen to make me look inconspicuous. If you want to hide from the world, this was not the dress to wear. It yells in living color that the wearer is all girl. I now looked at my fingernails and toenails and marveled at how flawless they are. Each is depthless, not something I would want to remove in the near future. And they are the exact color the dress. But my self-admiration session is cut short as my head is lowered into the basin. I feel hot sudsy water on my scalp. Several treatments follow that involve a good deal of ammonia and another obnoxious material that resembles rancid bug killer. But in no time my hair is trimmed and is in rollers. I can't see Susan as they plug me into a brain- frying machine. Kathy lightens the mood by announcing to all the patrons with a chuckle that she has created a beauty queen. I see a lot of head shaking in recognition of the outstanding job she has obviously done. When Susan returns and I tell her that I have been a sport and she better have a plan for Monday morning because I may not be able to show up as a male if it means undoing what I have just gone through. "I will cover for you, Roberta. Just don't fret yourself over it. Enjoy the moment." They have purposefully not let me near a mirror. I know my hair is auburn with a lot of highlights as I can see it on my shoulders. At last they finish fussing with my hair and Susan asks if she can do the honors. I thought she is getting me a mirror but the next thing I know my ears feel numb and then pierced. I fantasize that I am having brain surgery, without the benefit of anesthesia. Am I to become an Ubangi warrior princess with massive holes in my ear lobes? The makeup is surprisingly quick. I kind of felt there isn't much face left on my body to put anything on but they still find about 25 different things to do. The most noteworthy is to trim my eyebrows yet again; not a single hair could survive the last slaughter. I will have to have artificial ones for Monday morning. "You know Roberta, to get the full impact of what you look like you should get into your new outfit before we unveil you. This made sense to me. When we get back to the dressing room, Susan takes out two very realistic breast forms and I excitedly watch as she glues them onto my chest. A real unexpected bonus, I have my own breasts. I can't seem to stop playing with them and Susan gives me her 'now really' look. I then watch her put the under wire bra on me. She takes my panties off and I have an erection. "That will have to wait till later," she says and with a swat from a chopstick she finds on a counter the intense pain drains my mind of anything to do with sex. My member immediately tries to hide before a second swat is delivered. She helps me into an honest to god corset and, in no time at all, my waist is smaller than it has been since I was ten years old. She informs me that the stockings are pure silk and wait until she attaches them to the garters of the corset before trying to rub my legs together. I sneak in a small rub while she has me turn around. "My god, I have never felt anything that sensual in my life," escapes my lips. The slip is carefully lowered over my head. I never knew that slips could be so ornate and sexy. I try to look at it from every angle possible. As I hold the material in my incredibly beautiful hand a wave of femininity passes though my soul and I find myself on the verge of swooning. I would never have bought anything so gorgeous for myself. "I would never buy anything like this for myself," Susan says reading my thoughts, "I hope you appreciate it and let me wear it sometime." "So pretty. Must have cost a fortune." I say in awe. "We will have all day tomorrow to sort that out boss." She says while she erotically runs her fingers over my smooth bottom. Finally, that dress slithers over the silky slip. As Susan zips up the back, I marvel at how my bust, waist and hips have accommodated the dress. Finally, she kneels down in front of me and puts an elegant red shoe on each foot. There are three straps holding my toes to the base. As Susan fastens each ankle strap I feel I have truly been transformed into a complete female. As if by magic I find I am now thinking like a woman. I catch her looking up at me and she says, "You should have no trouble passing as a girl now, Princess Short Stuff." I look up at the clock. It is two and an half hours since I left my house in protest to go outside. Now, I can't wait to go outside and I haven't even looked at myself After a few minutes of practicing to walk on my new 4-inch heels, I am taken to the main area where all are waiting to see my reaction. My first impression of my image is that a movie actress must be in the salon. Slowly I see the movie actress copy my movements and am absolutely in shock. "I am gorgeous" escapes my lips. "Needs some work on your posture and your voice," Kathy says. We don't go directly back to the van. We stroll down the mall. We buy some jewelry for my outfit, a necklace and a bracelet. I also find a purse that matches the shoes. It is now getting onto two o'clock and I, for one, am very hungry. Whether by choice or design we are in front of the restaurant I had interviewed Susan for the secretarial job three years ago. We request the same table out in the atrium that we had sat in then. As we sit down I say "When we were here last I would never in my wildest imagination predicted this day." "Princess Short Stuff and Lard Ass, that would have been some stretch alright." Susan responds. I take Susan's hand, "I don't know how I am going to return to Bob, having seen myself this way. At the moment, if they ask me to give up my testicles I would tell them no problem. You have made me very happy. In addition to the spell you have cast to make me look this female, I have come to another realization. For some reason dressed as I am, I find my mind has undergone a transformation as well. I know things didn't work out when we tried to introduce love in our relationship a year ago but can we try again? Is there a future for us? You see, it is important to me because I now have another secret to share. "Although Short Stuff wasn't, Princess Short Stuff is madly in love with Lard Ass." Susan is clearly ill at easy. Her eyes are avoiding mine for the first time since I have known her. "Roberta, you are not the only one with secrets. You know you are my dearest friend. You know I would do anything for Bob. But once I found out that you are a transvestite, I have taken every avenue I can think of to turn you into a acceptable female. There is reason, a selfish one. It is because, oh god I am going to finally tell Short Stuff after all this time. I am a lesbian. Oh Roberta, you are my love fantasy - a gorgeous very feminine woman with male equipment." "Then you would consider a romantic partnership with this counterfeit female?" I venture. With tears streaming down her face she replies "Oh Roberta, most certainly, you have won my heart." Throwing all caution to the wind we seal our mutual commitment with a loved filled kiss. There just has to be people in the atrium who notice us but we were blind to all but each other. We are still staring at each other when the waitress interrupts us "would you ladies like a cocktail before lunch." Susan looks up at the waitress and with tears in her eyes tells her we have something to celebrate that calls for champagne." After our lunch and a full bottle of champagne there is not an inhibition between the two of us. " Well Roberta, we need to start you on your new wardrobe. Are you ready to do some serious shopping? I can hardly wait to trash your entire current wardrobe when we get back to your place." "Well it isn't much to trash" I reply. "No, I mean both your male and female wardrobe," Susan says with a sly inebriated smile. "And I predict by tomorrow night, after the party, you will gleefully be egging me on to do just that." I pass this off with a chuckle. "Well let's enjoy the moment, as you say, on with the shopping spree." I start by going to an ATM to withdraw my maximum daily limit of $1,000. I pay Susan for the clothes I am wearing which makes a sizeable dent. We pass the next three hours spending the rest. We have to make two trips back to the van to deposit armloads of packages containing lingerie, blouses, silky nightwear, dresses, skirts, blouses, sweaters shoes and cosmetics. As I pay for my last purchase I marvel at how feminine my mannerisms have become. The way I stand, tilt my head, smile, gestures when excited or just talking, all seem to been acquired as I look at various women in the mall. In reality, I am finally practicing what I learned from my years of watching females. All it takes is to put me in the right frame of mind, add a little champagne, and a become an instant female. After it is all spent we continue shopping for fun. I just don't want to stop. "I'm addicted to being a girl," I tell Susan with a sultry smile. She senses the mood and dares me to try on a small black open back cocktail dress that is to be worn without a bra. We both end up in the fitting room when I realize I can't try it on because of my corset. I suggest she try it on instead and next thing I know she is doing a striptease in front of me to her panties. I am instantly aroused. When I fasten the neck sling on the dress I gently kiss her on back of her neck and my hands, with a will of their own, wander up to fondle her braless breasts through the silky material. The dress is seductive. Susan is moaning and her hips are swaying waiting for me to rub her sex. I am in great pain with my member pressed behind me. With every ounce of willpower I possess I leave the fitting room where I see several people stare at me. They obviously have heard what could only be sounds of lust from the fitting room. "It is one orgasmic dress," I offer in explanation.. Immediately Susan bursts out of the fitting room and strikes a sensual pose in the dress while wearing a come hither look. "Wrap it up. No, on second thought go find me a male to seduce." The sales lady looks directly at me to get some sense of what is going on. I smile and she announces, "there is nothing remotely male in the area." Susan buys the dress and we leave amid laughter and several people asking if they had any other orgasmic dresses in stock. Shopping for female clothing is so different from when Bob would purchase them. Then I would secretly select my purchase and slink to the cash register ready to pay. Every moment I was a dread that someone would ask me what I was doing, or tell me with a chuckle that wasn't my color, or call me a derogatory name. Now, it is filled with adventure. I want to shop more. It occurs to me as Susan rushes to the van ahead of me, that her arousal level has not dropped since we were in left the fitting room. My crotch is one big ache and I can barely walk behind her. We both get in the side door of the van in record time. "I don't know what you did, Roberta, but I have never been this turned on in my life." Before I can mutter a reply her mouth is all over mine and her tongue is halfway down my throat. Her moans are almost continuous as I close the van door. My hands gently rub her back and I realize she is not wearing her bra. Immediately, in astonishingly slow motion, my hands undo the buttons of her sweater. I am soon rolling two very hard nipples between my painted fingernails. On seeing my feminine hands all over her breasts she orgasms. But not before she has undone the zipper on the back of her shorts and they have slid to the van floor beside her shoes. The whole thing is too much for me and my panties join the pile of clothes on the floor as I lift my beautiful slip and dress out of the way of the flowing fluids. Susan, now totally nude, desperately needs attention. I gently rub her clit and she orgasms on she watches long painted fingernails servicing her. I go to insert my index finger into her and find the missing panties; she has used it as a plug to keep a reservoir of juices from staining her slacks. I slowly and agonizingly pull her panties from her pussy. They are drenched. She shudders as the material drags across her clitoris and deposits a large amount of her lubricant on my pristine van carpet, but I don't care. I bring her to a shuddering climax by rubbing my forefinger over her crack. As she spasms I whisper in her ear, "I love you, I love you, I love you..." Midway through this I manage to get my member into her and between my juices pulsing inside her, my silk legs on her bare skin and my confessions of eternal love, she bellows out an earth- shattering moan. She then wilts beneath my body, totally spent. We lie on the van floor for five or so minutes waiting for someone to check it for survivors. Miraculously, no one came to investigate, not that others would have deterred our lovemaking. Finally Susan looks at me, "Oh Roberta, words are not adequate to describe my feelings. I could never love any person as much as I love you now." We barely make it to my home and without any packages rush to get inside. Two hours later I am dared to retrieve the packages from the van while she is standing naked in my window exciting me. We leave my condo for the party on Sunday night. It is non- stop love making from the time we arrive after the shopping trip until it is time to leave. After a session one or both of us would drift off to sleep and then one or the other would awake to stimulating hands or mouth. We are both wearing satin negligees that have made our bodies super sensitive. I eat nothing for those 24 hours. That plus the nonstop activity results in my corset cinching my waist to a trim 26 inches but gives me added cleavage. My red dress looks spectacular on me. But Susan looks absolutely ravishing in her new black dress. She borrows a pair of my sheer pantyhose and my black strap heels. (Yes, we had the same shoe size.) She looks all legs and with no back on her dress she almost looks naked from the back. I am totally turned on, and Susan is not far behind me. Five minutes later we are both naked again and our spasms are in unison. Very quickly we clean ourselves up and are looking at each other naked. "I want to change outfits," Susan announces as we are gathering up our clothes. I doesn't take her long to dress me as I only have four articles of clothes; black panties, sheer pantyhose, black strap shoes and the flimsy black dress. I take somewhat longer dressing her as she savors over my tightening her corset the silk stockings, the beautiful slip and the red dress itself. Unlike yesterday morning, I have no hesitation whatsoever in walking to the van. Feeling the gentle breeze on my back and near naked legs makes me feel so incredibly vulnerable. Seeing Susan in the red dress in front of me becomes an out of body experience. I see her looking at me and know that we are having the same thoughts. Instinctively, I look at Eve and Mary's condo and silently wish they could see us. It is just after seven when we arrive at the party. A pretty Polynesian lady answers the door. She is wearing a mumu and has hair down to her thighs. A fresh orchid is in her hair. She introduces herself to me as Malia, the hostess and after kissing Susan as an old friend feasts her eyes on me. "Roberta, you are even more beautiful than Kathy describes. Please come in and I will introduce you around." Everyone is waiting to see me, as I am instantly the center of attention. It is obvious that Kathy and Shirley have disclosed the details of my conversion. Several of the ladies make the comment that they can't believe I am a genetic male with my loose breasts, long legs and seductive poses. They laughingly demand proof. Finally Malia sensing my discomfort, and takes me aside and tells me the most remarkable thing. "Please don't feel embarrassed, Roberta, several of us, including me, are genetic males." Before I can respond I hear a familiar voice behind me from the kitchen door. "Roberta, I guess a good number of us have secrets. I am Malia's wife." I turn around and standing before me is Patricia. Patricia is the Personnel Vice President of the firm. Pat hired me. While I am standing with my mouth open she comes up and gives her a big smile. She then runs her hands up and down my bare back takes advantage of my open mouth with her tongue. "I can guess what Susan and you have been up to. Susan has the glow of woman recently well fucked. And frankly Roberta, so have you. I can't tell you how relieved I am that you both have found each other. Also, I am delighted that you have the courage to finally reveal the real you. I would have lost good money betting over the years that tonight would never happen. "I hope you don't mind but we are calling this "Roberta's Coming Out Party." But the secrets are not all out in the open for me yet. As I am turning over Malia's revelation in my mind she brings another set of guests in to the gathering of lesbians, Eve and Mary. Eve says as she approaches "I must say, Bob, you make one hell of a female in that backless dress." But I am fixated on Eve's trademark, her incredible cleavage. That is until I am treated to another sensual kiss. My member instantly responds and I give a very audible gasp. Eve looks at me in smiling eyes as she says "well thank you Roberta for the display of confidence." Mary comes up to me and rubs the back of her hand up and down my breasts. "You are good, Roberta. I almost dropped my coffee cup when Kathy phoned us this afternoon. We were totally unaware that the shy young girl we met yesterday was really the old ogre in drag." Susan gives me a wink from across the room and then blows me a kiss. "I love you Roberta even if you are a sex fiend," she shouts. There can be no turning back now; I am going to have one hell of a party.