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For Love..... By Anna Na-Maus Introduction These pages are taken from the records of Dr Sylvia Marchland PhD FRC.Psych. The tales that you read here are taken from a series of interviews between Dr Marchland and the subject Sam Whitman. Whilst the content of the interviews have been edited to provide the reader with a clear and understandable commentary on the subjects history none of the facts have been changed and the subject agrees that they are an accurate representation of the events. Part One Beginnings Sam Whitman first came to my attention in March 2014 having been referred by Dr Maggie Sorensson. According to the files Sam was born in the year 1988 to parents James and Andrea Whitman in the Countess of Chester hospital in Cheshire. Sam was the middle one of three children having two sisters, Kelly who was three years older and Jeanette who was six years younger. An academically smart child Sam attended Kings School in Chester achieving 12 GCSE's and 5 A'levels before moving on to study Computer Science at Wolfson College, Cambridge. Medically Sam's formative years were relatively uneventful, the usual childhood ailments were present but Sam's visits to the family doctor were fewer than the average British child. Sam was married to Alex Parker in the summer of 2011. Chapter 1 An Introduction You want me to tell you about our relationship. Okay, I guess that's why I am here. I first met Alex at a university party when I had just turned 21. To be honest I wasn't the best at parties. I didn't like mingling with a lot of people and generally ended up hiding in a corner on my own. That's when I even bothered to go at all. I was always much happier sat at home on my own or with a couple of good friends watching movies or playing computer games. The only times I went out and mingled with a big crowd was when I went to Goodison Park to watch my beloved Everton FC, and even then there were so many people that I was kind of alone. This particular party, however, was a good friends birthday party so there was no question of me not going. I had made all of my preparations the day before, buying a pack of six bottles of Sol lager, a jar of sliced limes, and a large bag of Tangy Cheese flavoured Dorito's. When I arrived at Mikki's place for the party, deliberately early as always, I did all the niceties, wishing her a happy birthday, dishing out presents and the like before grabbing an armchair and moving it into the corner of the room. I set myself up with my supplies near to hand and settled down to what I expected would be a solitary evening of people watching. I was wrong. About half an hour into the evening I saw Mikki working her way through the assembled guests with another girl in tow. The mystery girl was about my height and had long flowing brown hair, so dark that it was almost black in places. She had a nice figure, a bit boyish with small hips but a good chest and slim without being skinny. Her face was a mask of insecurity and nervousness, her eyes constantly flicking from side to side as she watched the people they passed. As the party was a little bit slow to get going and the viewing was less than entertaining when Mikki brought her over and introduced her to me I made a determined effort to be friendly. Actually it wasn't really that hard, Alex was easy to get on with and I found myself chatting to her for virtually the whole evening. It was a pleasant and fun filled evening as we discussed the other people at the party. We would take bets on who would disappear with whom, and how long they would be away for. I found myself to be very comfortable in Alex's company, there was no pressure to kiss or disappear ourselves we just behaved as though we had been friends for years. At the end of the evening I walked her home as she lived relatively near to my own house. It was a simple goodbye as we parted, a quick peck on the cheek, from her to me, and she walked through the door. That would probably have been the end of the story had I not decided to go for an impromptu drink in a pub that I passed on my way home from lectures. I liked this particular pub because I could sit at the end of the bar and occasionally chat to the barman with very few unwelcome approaches from other patrons. On this occasion however as I walked through the door my eyes instantly found Alex, sat at a table in the corner. I also saw the bullish man, leaning drunkenly against the table talking at her. I say talking at because it was quite clear that Alex was not appreciative of his attentions. I don't know what came over me but, acting completely out of character, I walked over and said "Hi, sorry I'm late". I don't know why I did it, I don't even know how I did it but I went over to this girl that I had only met once before and I saved her from a drunken old letch. To be fair he didn't put up a fight so, after a quick trip to the bar I once again sat next to Alex and we again fell into easy conversation. So for the second time I walked her home and got a peck on the cheek but this time when we parted company we exchanged phone numbersl and even arranged a third meeting. Over the next few months our relationship blossomed into a great friendship with something more. No sex yet, but a closeness that I desperately missed whenever we were apart. It was only sensible, therefore, that after just six months of dating we moved in together. Shortly afterwards Alex decided that she needed to tell me about the traumas that had dominated her past. For eight years, from the age of six, Alex was abused and raped by her uncle and his two sons. To begin with it was only her uncle who actually abused her because the boys were, at that time too young. However their father forced them to watch and they were encouraged to join in as soon as they started puberty. This particular uncle was her mother's brother and lived just a few streets from Alex's own home. To begin with Alex's parents had no idea what was going on and so they would regularly leave Alex with her uncle when their work or social life meant that neither of them could be at home. By the time it was discovered that something was going on she was so badly traumatised that she couldn't stand to be near men, even her own father, at all. It took three years for Alex to even get close to being able to cope again during which time she boarded at an all-girls school and received counselling the whole time, even during school holidays. Very slowly Alex learned how to control her fears and at least operate in the vicinity of men, and she was introduced into situations with men present. It was five years after beginning counselling that Alex attended a party at a friend's house and was introduced to yours truly. Amazingly I was the first man that she had been able to have a proper conversation with in fifteen years. Whilst she could never explain why she was comfortable being around me I have always been glad that she was. I sometimes wonder if it was my own, traumatic, recent past that allowed Alex to be comfortable in my presence. Mine wasn't as horrific as hers but neither was it pleasant. Four years earlier I had been diagnosed with a rare disease called Langerhans Cell Histiocytosis. I had been suffering from really bad headaches for a while so my mum made me go to the doctors. He had a quick look and found a soft lump on the side of my head that was very painful to touch. To be safe he decided that he he wanted a second opinion before he said anything and sent for a senior colleague. A second examination and a quick chat later the two doctors informed me that I had an infected cyst on my head, prescribed some antibiotics and sent me on my merry way. Three days later I collapsed and was rushed into the local hospital. To say that the hospital was a little bit useless is like saying that water is a little bit wet. Upon arrival at the hospital my mum and I were put into an examination room and left. After a while a porter turned up to take me for an x-ray, I had seen no doctors or nurses he was literally my first contact since we were put in the room. I had my x-rays, that bit was very efficient, and returned to the room for another wait. 10 minutes passed and an older man entered the room. He said nothing, just put an x-ray onto a light-box and flicked the switch. He looked at it for a moment and then walked out the door leaving my mum and me staring in horror. The x-ray showed a picture of my skull with two dark shadows just above my ear. I'm sure that I don't need to tell you what went through my mind, or that it was one of the worst moments of my, and my mums, life. When he finally returned the doctor informed us that I had been booked into a ward for tests and that he didn't really know what was going on. He didn't actually come out and say that but you could tell it was true from what he did say. The next day I was sent for a CT scan, examined by three different doctors and two groups of students but nobody gave me any answers. I was then basically abandoned for a week. If it wasn't for my sister I would probably have died in that hospital, it was only her insistence and persistence that got me moved to the famous Walton Centre in Liverpool, actually against the wishes of the original hospital. As soon as I arrived in Liverpool I had an MRI scan and the next day I was in the operating theatre where they removed a section of skull about the size of a man's hand and replaced it with a new polymer plate. I was later told that the bone had gone soft, that was what caused the x-ray shadows, and as a result my brain was pushing out and had become deformed, that caused the headaches. The surgeon told me that if they hadn't operated when they did I would have died within a week. Further MRI scans showed 12 more shadows throughout my skeleton, although these were much smaller and I spent the next two years having a mixture of radiotherapy and chemotherapy. As a result of the illness I also developed a whole collection of complications. Amongst these was Hypopituitarism resulting in Hypo-Gonadism. Basically my body stopped producing testosterone properly and I would be taking hormones for the rest of my life. Within a year of our graduations Alex and I were married, nothing fancy, a quiet wedding in a rural church followed by a small pub reception. It was the classic intimate wedding a few friends, close family and us. Alex looked beautiful in a simple cream dress with a bouquet of roses, mainly cream to match the dress but with a few red ones to draw the eye. Alex's Father gave her away, a big moment not just in respect to the wedding but also to her recovery. A final sign of forgiveness for not noticing what was going on and an acceptance of the second man in her life. Our vows were very traditional too, me to protect and Alex to obey. Personally I didn't read too much into the actual words, for me it was a simple declaration of love and the only part that was really important was 'til death us do part. I for one was fully committed to that one. We had the reception in the same pub as we intended to spend our wedding night, which allowed us to slope of before the end. Getting married is a lot more tiring than the stories would have you believe and we were both more than ready to fall into bed and, unromantically, straight to sleep. Wedded life was wonderful, I know that I not only loved Alex with all of my heart but I really liked her too. For some people that might sound a bit strange but I have an aunt and uncle who definitely loved each other but they never really liked each other and got divorced several years ago. They really want to get back together and are forever trying but they always end up arguing and splitting up again. But not us, Alex and I had the same ideals and although we didn't agree on everything we could always find a solution by talking things through. Straight out of University I got a job working for a small IT recruitment agency initially as an account manager but soon becoming the Sales manager. It sounded really impressive when I told people but the reality was much more down to earth. You see when I joined the company there was only Gary, the owner, myself and another account manager called Barbara. The company really started to take off and before Gary hired any more people he wanted to put a Sales Manager in place to work as a buffer between himself and the new recruits. Whilst a lot of people would bring in an experienced manager Gary liked to believe in the people he already had. He did offer the position to Barbara first but she turned him down, she liked being an account manager, the money was good enough and she didn't really want the extra stress of management. So Gary turned to me and I said yes. I know, you are wondering why did I, a sociophobe end up working in sales, a job where all you do is talk to people. Well the honest answer is that I just sort of fell into it. It's one of those stories that you would never believe if it didn't happen to you. You see Gary Robbins and I both share a doctor, the endocrinologist, Maggie Sorensson. Me for my hormone problems and Gary because he's a diabetic. One day he started chatting to me in the waiting room and we really hit it off, when he told me about the job I was very hesitant, telling him about my lack of social skills. He just laughed. "Sam," he said, "you're talking to me just fine and we'd never met before today. I think you'll be great. Please give it try." So I did, and after a shaky start I did turn out to be very good. It was almost as though I had two personalities, a confident outgoing salesman at work and a shy retiring type at home. Alex also got a job soon after graduation, as a junior copywriter for a small publishing house. She was very good at her job and it wasn't long before a big London publisher started sniffing around. At first she turned them down, we like living in the countryside and neither of us wanted to ever move into a big city. But when they said that she could e-commute then there was no reason not to accept, especially when the starting salary was just over ?60k. All Alex had to do was go to London once a month for a full day of meetings and sometimes pop off around the world to meet clients. We ended up living in a chocolate box cottage in the Cheshire countryside. Literally the last house in a rural village we had a tiny shop and pub within walking distance of the house. But at the same time, thanks to a very long driveway, we had fields all round and nobody overlooked our house. Yes, our life was perfect. For a while that is. Chapter 2 A Visit From The Past It started out as a beautiful warm summers day and so we decided to take an impromptu visit to Chester. We parked, as always, on the Little Roodee Car Park and enjoyed a short stroll along the river front towards the city centre. It was one of those ideal holiday atmospheres, the crowds were full of cheer and local artists had their easels set up in the shade of the city walls. On the river rowing crews from the local rowing club fought for space with young couples going around in circles as they tried to master their hired rowing boats and young families speeding along in one of the many motor boats available for an hourly rate. Of course all of them had to avoid the large tour boats that took hundreds of people up and down the River Dee to the accompaniment of Jazz Bands, Crooners or just screaming infants. Beyond the mayhem of the boats sits Hickory's Smokehouse, a fantastic American style restaurant on the banks of the river. Although it is not a cheap place to eat, when we can afford it we do like to treat ourselves. Today we decided would be one of those days and we walked arm in arm towards the restaurant revelling in the aromas of fine Louisiana cuisine. Surprisingly we were able to find an outside table quite easily and were soon seated waiting for our food to arrive, watching the passing crowds and enjoying a cool drink. Another point in favour of the Smokehouse is that it is one of the few places in Cheshire that serves Dixie beer. An American brew with a slightly nutty flavour. I won't bore you with the details of our lunch. Enough to say that it was delicious, filling and emptied my wallet to the tune of ?50. After lunch we strolled up Lower Bridge Street and into the city centre. We'd spent a good couple of hours wandering around the shops enjoying the elegance of Browns, the sights and sounds of the market and, of course, the Town Crier in full voice next to the cross. We had a cup of tea in a little tea shop on the city walls, indulging in a slice of Chester tart at the same time. It had the makings of a memorable day indeed. We had stopped to take a bit of a breather, leaning against the barriers on the Upper Rows just people watching when I felt Alex stiffen up besides me. I turned to look at her and saw that her face was almost white with fear, her teeth were clenched and she was visibly shaking "What is it?" I asked. Wondering what could have caused such a reaction. "I need to leave," was Alex's reply, "I need to leave here now." "Why?" "I just do now come on." She grabbed hold of my arm and started to drag me away. Then, as soon as I started to follow her, she let go of my arm and hurried through the crowds towards the car park. Dodging push chairs and a phalanx of small Roman soldiers, kids visiting the museum sometimes get to march through the streets in Roman uniforms, I raced after her. "Alex," I called, "whatever is the matter? What's happened?" She didn't answer and when I tried to put my arm around her to slow her down she pulled away. Even when we got back to the car I could see that she was struggling to hold it together. Her lips were so tightly jammed together that they were now turning blue, so I decided to just get her away from there and not push the point any more. We didn't speak at all on the way home. Alex sat, staring through the windscreen although I doubt she saw anything. Her hands sat in her lap, her fingers drumming a ceaseless tattoo on her thighs. Eventually I pulled into our drive and parked the car. Alex just sat there, still blankly staring through the windscreen. "Come on love," I said, tenderly, "come in to the kitchen and I'll put the kettle on." Eventually she turned her head to look at me and a weak smile played across her lips. "Thanks Sam", she replied, "I'm sorry. You're right I need a cuppa." Soon we were sat on opposite sides of the kitchen table, Alex with a cup of Clipper Tea and me with a large mug of freshly brewed Lavazza coffee. We sat there in silence. I desperately wanted to say something, to ask what was going on, but I knew that Alex had to be the one to make the first move and start the conversation. It wasn't until she had reboiled the kettle, made herself a second cup of tea and refilled my mug from the coffee pot that she felt ready to talk. "I saw them Sam. I saw Uncle Mac and the boys. In Chester." My heart burst for her, as I recognised the fear and dread in her face, "What? How? I mean surely they should still be rotting in prison," I said "Uncle Mac certainly should be," replied Alex, "the boys were put in a secure home though so I don't know how it works with them." "Great, so they've been let out. But they shouldn't be anywhere near us, surely and why haven't we been told anything?" "I don't know," Alex shouted, fear turning to anger, "I don't know why they're here or what they want. I don't know, I don't know, I don't know." I jumped out of my seat to take her in my arms and give her a comforting hug, I raced around the table but as soon as our bodies came into contact she jumped and then stepped backwards, pushing me away at the same time. "I'm sorry Sam, I can't," she cried, huge tears tracking down her face, "It just feels wrong, oh God Sam what am I going to do." Right at that moment I knew exactly how it feels to be helpless. The person that means the most to me in the whole world was sobbing right in front of me and there was nothing that I could do. I really didn't know what to say that would make things feel any better, and it had already been shown that I couldn't touch her. So I was left stood there like a total lemon until finally I said the only thing that I could think of. "I don't know Ali, I'm sorry. Should I make another brew?" Amazingly it worked, to a point. A little smile cracked through the tears, "Oh Sam, you are such a sweetheart," she said, "but I think maybe right now I need something stronger than a cup of tea," and so she walked into the lounge and opened the drinks cabinet. By the time I made it into the room with a fresh cup of coffee Alex was already sat with a large brandy in one hand and the TV remote in the other. "Time for something funny to clear my mind for a bit," she declared, eventually giving up on the TV and putting 'Lesbian Vampire Killers' on DVD on instead. That's pretty much how the evening went. Mindless fun on the TV with little or no conversation, certainly no mention of the days events. At some point I made a light tea of cheese on toast with chorizo sausage and Alex kept filling her glass. Strangely she didn't appear to get as drunk as she should have done, although it clearly wasn't for a lack of trying. Eventually at somewhere around midnight she decided that enough was enough and turned the TV off. "Come on," she said over her shoulder as she headed to the stairs, "let's call it a night and hit the sack." I don't know what I really expected to happen that night, I only know that I didn't expect much. I certainly didn't expect what I got. When we got in bed we automatically moved towards the centre of the bed, but as soon as we touched Alex went totally rigid. She literally froze. I could almost sense her trying desperately to stay next to me but in the end she had to give up and move to the edge of the bed where she lay quietly crying to herself. At some point we must have both fallen asleep, and I guess I swung my arm over so that it was resting on Alex. Her scream woke me up, it was a scream of pure terror and it scared me so much I that I jumped out of bed ready to fight whatever it was that was attacking her. It was as I stood there, in nothing but my stripy blue pyjama bottoms, that I realised that she had been woken by my hand. Whether it was worked into a nightmare she was having, or if it was just the touch of my hand I don't know but whatever it was it had reduced the girl I loved into a sobbing, shaking mess perched on right on the edge of the bed. Unthinking, I moved forward to comfort her and put my hand on her shoulder, big mistake. The moment I touched her she jerked backwards to sever the contact. "I'm sorry," I stammered, "I didn't mean to, I mean I, oh Christ honey I'm sorry. Maybe I should sleep in the spare room for tonight, make sure it doesn't happen again." Alex made a vague attempt to dissuade me but her heart really wasn't in it. So I grabbed my pillows, always sleep better with my own pillows, and went to bed in the spare room. We tried sharing a bed a few more times but every night the results were the same and eventually I simply went straight into the spare room. I was confused, helpless and hurting. More than anything in the world I wanted my wife back but I had no idea how to go about it. Chapter 3 Night Time Changes "Sam, we need to talk." Alex was sitting at the kitchen table, a large glass of Red wine in front of her. Six months had passed since the incident in the Mall and things were showing no sign of improvement. It wasn't that we hadn't tried. Maggie had recommended Alex to a counsellor friend of hers and Alex had seen her religiously every week. We had even gone as a couple a few times to see if that would help but, so far, nothing had changed. We tried going away to see if a change of scenery would suppress her fears but that didn't work either. I spent the entire holiday sleeping on the couch in the hotel room. So when Alex said that we needed to talk I became more than a little nervous. "Come and sit down," she began, "You know that I love you more than anything else in the world don't you?" "I do," I responded feeling even more anxious, there was a but coming. I could feel it. "But," told you so, "for some reason every time I touch you an irrational part of me flashes back to my Uncle and his boys. It makes me hate myself but I can't help it. I literally feel sick every time we touch and my skin crawls." Slow tears began to trickle from the corner of her eyes, "I don't want it to happen. I know that you are nothing like them but I don't have any control over it. Oh Sam, I do love you," the tears were beginning to flow more freely now, "and I really miss cuddling up to you. I miss holding hands and the way I used to feel when you put your arm around me. I miss all of those things and really wish that we could still do them now. Why does life have to be so unfair Sam? Haven't I suffered enough?" I ached to be able to go around the table and wrap my arms around her in an all embracing show of affection, but with what she had just said it would only make things worse. I wanted to tell her that everything would be alright, but would it? I loosened my tie a bit to give me time to think. Obviously I knew that she had been in a bad place since we saw her cousins in the Mall but I never realised that she felt as horrible as she did. "Ali," I responded carefully, "I love you too and I always will. Whatever it takes to help you through this I will be there for you and I will help you in every way I can. I mean it, anything." "Anything?" she asked, her eyes red and puffy from the tears seeming to flicker with hope for the first time in weeks. "Anything at all?" I nodded and replied. "Anything." "Well there was one idea I had, but I dismissed it because I didn't think that you'd like it and I don't want to put you in a difficult position." she answered. "You won't," was my response, "tell me your idea. Please." "You know that when I was at boarding school I found comfort with one of my class mates?" I nodded, Alex had told me about the nights that she had found comfort on many nights in the arms of Clare, a very pretty little girly girl. She never went into a lot of detail but I guessed that there was more than just cuddling going on. Alex continued, "well I thought that maybe, if you would, we could try and pretend that you were a girl and then I could cuddle you like I used to cuddle Clare." I mentally took a step back at this point. Pretend I was a girl, this was a joke, it had to be. But what if it wasn't? Hadn't I just said that I would do anything to help? Well this was definitely something and, whilst I thought it unlikely, it might help. "How would we do it?" I asked "I don't really know," admitted Alex. "Like I said, I dismissed the idea as being unreasonable." She paused to think. "I suppose to start with that you could just borrow some of my pyjamas tonight and see what happens, we're about the same size so they should fit." I guess I looked a little sceptical, "It'll be dark so it might work, and I've already had a couple of these." She paused to wiggle her wine glass at me before continuing, a hint of desperation in her voice. "Please Sam, it can't hurt can it, please." Of course there was no way that I could say no to her and she was right it couldn't hurt anyone, the worst thing that would happen is that I'd feel a bit stupid and we'd still be in the same place we were. So when it came time to retire for the evening we both traipsed upstairs, having consumed a few more glassed of the red stuff. "I've put some pyjamas in the bathroom for you," said Alex as we entered the bedroom, "will you be able to get into bed if I turn all of the lights off?" I nodded and headed off to the bathroom whilst Alex sat at her vanity and began to get ready for bed. Neatly piled up next to the bathroom sink was a small pile of clothes. On top of the pile was a white cotton vest top with a motif of a puppy dog on it. I can live with a vest I thought to myself as I unbuttoned and removed my shirt. I then pulled the vest top over my head and glanced in the mirror, "not too bad" I thought, "as long as I can ignore the motif in the dark." I chuckled to myself, half incredulous that I was actually doing this. The pyjama bottoms came next, they were baby blue and made of satin. "They are still trousers," I said to myself, "just trousers." I then removed my own trousers, as well as my socks and pants and pulled on the loaned pyjamas. They were certainly lighter than my own, thick flannel, pyjamas and they felt much cooler too. Oh well, I quickly brushed my teeth and opened the door onto the now darkened bedroom. I carefully crossed the carpet to the bed and climbed in. I lay there not moving for a good ten minutes before Alex's arm cautiously rested upon my leg. I waited for it to be snatched away but nothing happened, I allowed myself a little hope. Cautiously her hand slid up the side of my satin clad leg until it reached the waistband of the pyjamas. This was going well I thought to myself, unfortunately I spoke a moment too soon. As her hand progressed beyond the trousers it failed to slide effortlessly on to the top, instead it pushed the top upwards and the skin of Alex's hand came into contact with the skin of my stomach, the rather hairy, manly skin of my stomach. The spell was broken. Alex snatched her hand away as quickly as she could and rolled over, her back to me and her face pressed up to the edge of the bed. With a sigh I too rolled over, facing outwards from the bed and closed my eyes. I didn't bother changing the pyjamas. Nothing was said the next morning, nor was the experiment repeated the following night. When I got home from work the day after that Alex was, once again, sat at the kitchen table with a large glass of wine. "Hey Hun," she smiled bravely, "good day at work?" I answered knowing that there was more on her mind than my day, and I was right. "I think I know what went wrong." She continued when I had finished, "It was your hairiness. Clare was never hairy, Uncle Mac was." A pause. "I think that it might work if you shaved. Nobody would know, only me," she added quickly, "and I really think that it will help. Please Sam, we were so close the other night, this could be it." I tried not to sigh before answering. "You want me to shave off all of my body hair and wear your pyjamas?" I asked. She nodded. "And you really think it will work?" More nods. I smiled, on the outside at least, "Then let's give it a go, we'll have some dinner and then I'll go jump in the shower and get started." Alex's face lit up with joy but she couldn't quite bring herself to give me a hug. I could see that she wanted to though and that was pretty nice in itself. Deciding that I couldn't be bothered to cook and taking into account the fact that Alex hadn't been bothered since the incident I rang the local takeaway and ordered one lamb shish kebab, one donor kebab and two portions of chips. We had been ordering takeaways a lot since that day in the Mall and it was beginning to show around my stomach. Living in the middle of nowhere we didn't have the luxury of deliveries when it came to take away food so I jumped into the car and made the twenty minute drive to the takeaway. At least pre-ordering meant that I didn't have to wait for the food to be cooked, and I was such a good customer that they wrapped my food up with extra layers of paper to keep it warm on the way home. One and half hours later, feeling full and a little bit flushed from the wine we had drunk I entered the bathroom. I put my freshly filled glass on the side of the bath, put the plug in its hole and turned the taps on. Reaching for the pink Radox bubble bath that Alex had advised me to add, "it'll soften the hairs and make it easier," I poured a healthy dollop into the water. I decided against using my regular razor for this job and looked in the cupboard for one of Alex's lady shavers. I found a bag of Gillette Simply Venus disposable razors next to a can of Gillette Satin Care Floral Passion shave gel. Grabbing a razor and the gel I put them on the side of the bath too, next to my glass of wine. I then returned to the cupboard to find a tub of Nivea Soft Moisturising Cream, apparently I would regret it if I didn't smother myself in this stuff after I had shaved. I gathered the pyjamas from where they had sat in the bedroom from the previous morning, noticing that a pair of white satin panties had been placed on the pile, and stripped down to my boxers and returned to the bathroom. By now the bath was full of water so I turned off the taps and stepped in. It had been a long time since I had sat in a bath, a quick shower was normally my way of cleansing, but Alex insisted that it would be easier to shave the hairs off if I let them soak in the bath for ten minutes first. Not to mention the fact that it's easier to reach your legs when you are sitting down. As I slid into the water and felt it's warmth envelop me I had to admit that it felt kind of nice too. It took well over an hour to properly shave everywhere, and even then there were some patches on my back that I simply couldn't reach and would have to get help with another day. By the end of it there was so much hair in the, now tepid, water that every time I tried to rinse hairs off my body several more took their place. In the end I decided to turn on the shower and rinse them off that way, so I pulled the plug out of the bath and waited for the water to drain out before switching on the shower. We don't have room for a separate bath and shower, our shower is simply over the tub. As the hot water hit my freshly shaven skin I felt it like it had never felt before. As a man you don't really think about the layer of hair that protects your skin from sensations like this, but over the next few days I was going to think about it an awful lot. With my skin tingling, and turning ever so slightly pink from the shower I grabbed my towel and dried of quickly. I then proceeded to rub the moisturising cream into my skin, really enjoying the cooling sensations that it provided but definitely not the sight of my paunch that somehow seemed worse now that it was pink and hairless. It was definitely time to lose some weight. When it came time to put the pyjamas on I must confess I was totally unprepared for another new set of sensations. After all I had worn these clothes only a couple of nights earlier and they hadn't been massively different from my normal pyjamas. A little nicer but nothing worth crowing about. I picked up the panties, oh well in for a penny, I stepped into the first leg hole and pulled it up a little before stepping into the second leg hole. As I began to work them up my legs I realised just how different things really are when you don't have a layer of hair to protect you. The material from the panties caressed my flesh as I pulled them up my legs sending little tingles and shivers through my body. Wow, if that's what a little pair of knickers could do imagine how good the trousers would feel. I grabbed them quickly and rushed to put them on, where the panties had caressed and moved on the trousers continued to caress. Every movement caused the material to sway and set of a whole new round of caresses. Maybe there was going to be some unexpected bonuses in this plan of Alex's. I quickly put the cotton vest top on, and while it wasn't as good as the satin it was still much better than anything I had worn before, rubbing against my bare skin. I felt really good as I opened the door and entered the bedroom, hoping that Alex hadn't given up waiting and fallen asleep. Sliding under the covers, another heightened sensation with hairless skin, I felt her stir next to me. "Hmm, you smell nice," she murmured, the sound of sleep evident in her voice. Her hand slid across my stomach and started to explore, this time there was no quick retreat when flesh touched flesh. This time there was a "Oo, soft," and a wriggling as her body snuggled closer to mine, her stomach pressed against my hip. It was working, for the first time in months we were actually laying in bed together, properly together. There wasn't any sex, nothing like that, it was just a comfortable companionship but as far as I was concerned it was the best feeling in the world. We must have been lucky those first few nights because everything was wonderful. I found that wearing girls pyjamas didn't bother me in the slightest and Alex didn't seem to mind too much when I turned down her offer to loan me a nightie. Our nights were still devoid of intercourse but we growing closer again and spent a good thirty minutes every night kissing and cuddling under the covers, nothing below the waist but she seemed to enjoy it rather a lot when I played with her nipples. I was sure that it was only a matter of time before things progressed further. Unfortunately, whilst the night times were getting better the days were most definitely not. As soon as I stripped of my girlish night attire and dressed in my normal day clothes Alex would become remote and wary of me. All the warm companionship of the previous night disappearing with the satin. It had been still been hard to accept being shunned beforehand, but the emotional pain had lessened over time. Now it was like having my heart ripped out every single morning and it became almost impossible to just get through the day. What made it even worse was seeing the same feelings reflected back at me in Alex's eyes. In some ways if she hadn't been upset at what was happening it would have been a bit easier. At least then I would have been able to get angry with her. But she looked so sad and lost that all I wanted to do was give her a hug, which made it all worse. On the twelfth night the luck ran out and we crashed back to the start. As we were kissing and cuddling Alex's hand slipped lower than it had done previously. I could tell were it was going and prepared myself for a moment that I had been anticipating all week. It never came. Alex's hand reached the bulge in my trousers and simply stopped. Or to be more accurate Alex stopped, she froze. Her breathing stopped, her hand stopped, her whole body stopped moving, quietly in the silence that ensued I heard her whispering, barely loud enough to register as a noise, "no, no, no, no, I can't, no, no", repeating over again. I moved her hand away from the offending area and that seemed to break the spell, sadly she rolled over and away from me pulling the duvet up around her head. I doubt I slept at all that night, I just lay there listening to Alex quietly sobbing to herself until she eventually fell asleep, then I listened to her gentle snores. The next day I didn't see Alex before I left for work but that was okay, I had other things on my mind. I wasn't going to leave it to Alex to solve this new problem, there had to be a simple solution and I was going to be the one to find it. I'd prove to her that we could get past anything together and that I was fully invested in saving our relationship. As soon as I got to work I went in to Gary's office and told him that I needed to leave a couple of hours early, Alex had some meetings to attend in London and wouldn't be home until eight at the earliest but I had a lot of things to do and everything had to be perfect. I raced through my emails as soon as I got into my own office, luckily there was nothing too complicated and by 12.30 I had finished everything that needed completing that day. Then I logged into Google and began a search. All those hours lying awake the previous night had given me plenty of time to think through the problem and I was pretty confident I knew how to find the answer. I typed 'How do drag queens hide their genitals' into the search engine and was rewarded with over 300,000 results. There were a surprising number of alternatives, not all of which appealed to my finer sense. I didn't fancy taping my boys up, that looked a little bit too painful for my taste. There was no way I could get a gaffe by this afternoon so that was out and using several pairs of tights to squash everything flat would more than likely just make me sweaty in bed. In the end I decided to just tuck my bits between my legs and hold them in place with some really tight pants. Now I just had to get everything together and get ready to impress Alex. The idea of being caught buying some of the things that I needed was a little to scary so I carefully wrote out a shopping list using what I considered to be feminine handwriting that way if anyone saw what I was buying I could just say that Alex had given me a list and it was all for her. Feeling a little more confident with my ruse I set off towards the Tesco Extra that had recently opened in a nearby town, hopefully I would be able to get everything I needed there and wouldn't have to traipse round lots of other shops, after all the more places you go the more chance there is of being spotted and even with my list I didn't want that. I wandered through the food sections first, buying fresh pasta, passata, frikadellen and fresh garlic bread, I was pretty sure I had all the herbs and spices that I would need at home already. Then I headed into the toiletries. I had discovered that my body hair grew very quickly and so I decided to buy my own razor rather than use up all of Alex's. Not liking disposable razors on my face I decided to adopt the same attitude with my body and bought myself a Venus ProSkin Sensitive Razor and a new can of shave gel. Next stop alcohol, two bottles of Condesa de Flores Cava Brut Rose, before finishing in the clothing department. I'd checked the sizes of the clothes that Alex had loaned me at home so I knew what I needed and vowed not to hang about. First up a new pair of pyjamas, dark blue satin bottoms with a matching satin top. The top had a little frill around the plunging neck line and really narrow straps, I now know that they are spaghetti straps but I was clueless back then. Final item a pair Playtex 'hold everything in' Expert in Silhouette Maxi Briefs, tucking them deep into the shopping basket I headed for the checkout. Thank goodness for self serve tills, that is all I need to say. By the time Alex got home I was freshly bathed and shaved, my little fella was tucked away and held securely in place by Playtex and I was decked out in finest blue satin. On the table were two bowls of spaghetti with meatballs and a wonderfully aromatic stack of deliciously unhealthy garlic bread. The weight loss could wait for another day. When she walked through the door Alex's face lit up, not necessarily at the spread or even the outfit, but more the fact that I had gone to all this effort for her. I cocked my finger and summoned her over, taking her hand I placed it on my stomach and slowly started to move it downwards, relishing in the look on her face at is changed from trepidation to absolute joy as she felt my new smooth frontage. "But..." she stammered, "How?" "Nothing fancy," I replied, "everything is still there for future needs, it's just hidden away for a while." She kissed me, long and slow. "I love you Sam Whitman," she said, "and I'm starving. That dinner smells gorgeous." I would love to tell you that we had mad rampant sex that night but, of course, we didn't. We played with other, we hugged and kissed, but my penis remained tucked away. Weirdly Alex actually fell asleep with her hand resting on the smooth frontage where my penis should have lain, it was a very unusual sensation and kept me awake for a very long time. Chapter 4 A Satin Undercoat It was mid November and had been about a month since I first put on a pair of Alex's pyjamas so that we could start spending nights together again. Rather than constantly wearing the less than sexy Playtex Midi Briefs I had invested in a few Gaffes that I found online, these weren't as big as the Playtex yet held things in place just as well, if not better. The result of this was the introduction of Shorty Pyjamas. Alex liked those because they exposed my legs, and I could still tell myself that men wear shorts so it was okay. Alex seemed to get a lot of satisfaction from simply stroking my body, especially the area where my genitals would have been had they not been tucked away neatly between my legs. She could spend ages running her hands over that patch, tickling my inner thighs even sometimes stroking my nipples through the fabric of my pyjamas. In return I would regularly use my fingers and tongue to bring her to orgasm. I guess that sounds a bit blas? really, believe me it shouldn't. I was pretty useless to start with but Alex would patiently guide me on where to touch and, just as importantly, how hard. I was desperate to please her and maintain the closeness that we had rediscovered in the bedroom so I worked really hard to get it right. I knew I was getting there when Alex referred to me as her lesbian lover. To be honest, apart from the complete lack of actual sexual intercourse things were showing definite signs of improvement. Until breakfast that is. We still couldn't make the night time happiness make it through the daytime. Unsurprisingly Alex eventually came up with a plan, and of course the first thing I knew of it was when I came home from work to find her sat at the kitchen table with a large glass of wine. "O Oh," I said smiling, "I know that face, someone's had an idea." She smiled back, albeit a little nervously. "Actually I have," she confessed. "I was wondering if you might be ready to try something to make the days a bit better. I really like where we are at once the lights go out but as soon as you get dressed it all goes down hill again" I couldn't argue with that. There had been too many mornings when, buoyed up from the night before, I had gone to give her a kiss or a cuddle whilst wearing my work clothes. The outcome was never good, and would sometimes impact on the next night as well. I was ready to try anything. "I'm always willing to listen," I responded, "Beyond that I can't make any promises." She dived straight in, "I was wondering if you would wear girl undies under your male clothes during the day. That way I'll know that you're still my night time time buddy underneath that horrid male exterior." "You want me to wear knickers under my suit," I said, pretending to think about it. In reality my experience of wearing knickers at night time had been so good that the thought of wearing them all of the time was quite alluring. Just as long as I don't get run over or anything. "I suppose I could do that," I tried to sound grudging, like it was a tough decision. "Not just knickers," added Alex, "a bra too, or maybe a camisole. I think you'd look fantastic in a camisole. We'd make sure nobody can tell." "How?" "Oh don't worry about that, I have a few ideas." She smiled, "come on. At least say you'll try. It would be so nice not to feel crappy every time you touch me. Please say you'll do it. For me." Talk about emotional blackmail. It was a good job that I was going to do it anyway, so I said yes and the next morning the time arrived. Lying on the chair where I kept my clothes was a clean pair of white satin knickers and a matching white satin camisole. I quickly slipped out of my pyjamas and jumped into the bath. It's strange looking back but beforehand I virtually never had baths it was showers all the way. By this point I had a quick, well quickish, bath every morning and occasionally a long luxuriating bath in the evening as well. Sunday mornings was proper bath day, whilst Alex had a lie in I would fill the bath with lots of hot water and bubbles grab a book, Bernard Cornwell, Clive Cussler, that sort of thing, and I would lay back and read for at least an hour. But back to that morning, I jumped into the bath and had a really close all over shave, I didn't want Alex to know but I was actually quite excited about the feel of the camisole on my bare skin. As soon as I was hair free I washed using my scrunchie, rinsed, climbed out of the bath, patted myself dry, moisturised and then, wrapped in a towel, I went into the bedroom. I picked the new underwear up and carried it over to the bed where I sat down, Alex was still snoring softly. Working from home really does have some benefits. I slipped my feet through the leg holes of the panties and slid them half way up my legs until they were just above my knees. I then lay back on the bed with my legs slightly apart, reached down and pushed my balls back into their cavities and pulled my penis back between my thighs. I squeezed my thighs together to hold it in place and pulled my panties all the way up, lifting my bum off the mattress to do the last little bit. When I finally stood up everything was all neatly tucked away and I had the smooth front that Alex seemed to like so much. I know I didn't really need to tuck because I was going to work and nobody there cared whether I had a smooth girly crotch but I had got into the habit and, if I'm honest, the knickers always looked nicer with a smooth front. I picked the camisole up of the bed and prepared to slip it on, this was it, the moment of truth how was I going to look. Putting the satin camisole on felt as wonderful as I knew it would so, feeling happy I returned to the chair and picked up my trousers, stepping into them and pulling them up to my waist. I then got a clean white shirt out of the wardrobe and pulled it on over the cami, expertly fastening the buttons before pulling on a tie and fastening it at the neck. Once dressed I stepped over to the mirror. At first glance it was okay, the material of my shirt was thick enough to hide the bodice of the camisole. But just as my hopes soared they came crashing back down, I could see lumps on my shoulder revealing the straps. When I turned side on and then pretended to reach for something the back of the straps were really obvious, I felt actual disappointment. "Alex wake up," I whispered to my sleeping wife. She opened her eyes blearily and looked at me. "What is it?" she asked "It won't work," I said, "you can see the straps of the camisole through the shirt, everyone will know what I'm wearing. It'll be horrible." Alex opened her eyes fully and looked at me. "No it won't, look in the bag on the back of your chair" I did as I was told and had a look. It was a Burton's bag and inside was a black waistcoat with a dark red satin back panel decorated with black roses. "Try it on," said Alex from the bed. So I did I slipped it on, fastened it and returned to the mirror. I hadn't worn a waistcoat for many years, I mean who does, but I really should have. It looked really nice, and you couldn't see the straps of the camisole at all. "Happy?" asked Alex. I nodded "Happy." "Good now get down stairs and put the kettle on. I need a brew." It was a really weird day at work, when I was sat in my office I kept catching myself stroking my camisole through my shirt, I even unfastened my new waistcoat to give easier access. Out of the sanctuary of my private little office was a totally different situation. My waistcoat was firmly closed before I opened the door and every moment I was out I feared my discovery. What would happen if somebody patted me on the back? Would they feel the dreaded straps? I kept all trips across the main office down to a minimum. When I got home Alex had dinner all prepared and sat on the kitchen table. I say prepared, she had been to KFC and bought a bucket meal. Not that I was complaining. "How was your day?" she asked. I smiled. "Nerve racking," I replied, "But really nice too." I think I might have blushed a little at that point. "The camisole felt really nice on my skin but I was dead worried that someone would catch me." "Did they?" "No, not even close. It didn't stop me worrying about it all day though." Alex smiled, "It might take a little while but I'm sure you'll get used to it and will completely forget that you're wearing it." The smile faded a little, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to go away for a few days. There's a new magazine that's just starting up in New York and they want us to look after their European publishing for them. Adam thinks that I am the right person to go and sort it all out. It could be very lucrative for the company, and hopefully will get me a really big bonus. "I've got to fly out in about," she glanced at the kitchen clock, "oh, six hours or so. I'm really sorry honey. I wouldn't go if I didn't have to but Adam really needs this and, well it won't do me any harm to have American connections if I ever decide to go it alone." "Don't worry love," I responded, putting on a brave face whilst disappointment filled my heart, "I'll still be here when you get back, can't say the same for this chicken though" I added grinning. "Come on, let's get eating before it gets too cold, do you want a drink?" The next few days were filled with work. With Alex on the other side of the Atlantic there was no reason for me to race home at the end of the day so I worked late every night, getting all of the companies customer accounts in order as well as researching some potential new clients to approach in the New Year. Before flying off Alex had given me several more camisole tops to wear under my suits, and I wore them. Every day that she was gone I wore a different camisole, all of them in pale colours so that they wouldn't show through my shirts and all of them in slippery, shiny satin. Within my collection I already had matching panties for every one of them so I looked beautifully co-ordinated underneath my oh so boring business suits. Alex was right about me getting used to them, within a few days I was wandering around the office completely at ease and nobody noticed a thing. Alex ended up staying in New York for just over a week sorting out the details for the new contract and was exhausted by the time she returned. She got home late on Saturday and, after a light meal, went straight to bed and straight to sleep. On Sunday I allowed her to remain asleep until ten before waking her with a simple breakfast of bacon, tomatoes and mushrooms. Not forgetting the obligatory cup of tea. Having never been the sort to lounge around in pyjamas I was already dressed by this point. I had on a pair of black cargo pants, a grey t-shirt and a black hooded sweatshirt, naturally underneath I was clad in satin, pale pink and very feminine. Unfortunately for me Alex couldn't see it, and apparently she couldn't imagine it either so touching was still off the daytime agenda. I didn't want to push the point because she was evidently still very tired, and she did say that she might just need time to get used to it. To see me getting dressed every morning with my pretty girly underwear, protecting my body from the nasty man clothes I had to wear I don't know whether or not what she said actually made sense, or whether I just wanted it to make sense. But at that moment in time, to my ears it was the indisputable truth and I consigned myself to dressing in nothing but feminine under garments for the foreseeable future. Chapter 5 Christmas Dressings Christmas 2013 was a huge turning point in my life. I had been wearing girly undies for a few weeks now and had thrown away all of my man pants. Likewise all my pyjamas were of the feminine variety, but they were still pyjamas, Alex seemed to have given up any attempts to get me into a nightie. On Christmas morning we both went downstairs together, as always the last thing that we had done the previous evening was put each others Christmas presents under the tree so that we could pretend to be surprised that Santa had visited. I normally went in after Alex so she had the better surprise but this year she insisted that I went first. Before opening the living room door we went into the kitchen. I set up the coffee machine whilst Alex turned the oven on and got the orange juice and champagne out of the fridge. Another of our traditional Christmas acts was to start the day with a glass of bucks fizz while we opened our presents followed by a continental breakfast of coffee and croissants. At the age of 20 it had felt very grown up and sophisticated, now that we were grown up it reminded us how young we used to be. But it was nice. So, glasses held ready we prepared to enter the living room. "After you," I said, following tradition as always, but Alex had other ideas. "Not this year love," she said, "this year I want to watch you go in first." With that she stepped back and waved me through. I passed through the doorway and into the room, to my left was the pile of presents that I had carefully accumulated for Alex. To my right was a scene from a Hollywood romance tale. A couple of dozen pink, white and red heart shaped, helium filled, balloons framed the scene. In its centre, sat on a miniature armchair, was a four foot tall giant teddy bear holding a big bunch of red roses. The chair was surrounded, quite literally, by a pile of beautifully wrapped gifts. I stopped dead in my tracks, completely overwhelmed by what I saw. Alex stepped up alongside and slipped her arm around my waist. "What you have done for me this year has been incredible," she said, "I don't think that anyone else would have put up with the way I shut you out for so long and they certainly wouldn't have done all of the things that you have done to help me to adjust. I am definitely the luckiest person alive to have a husband like you." She paused. "I guess what I am trying to say is thank you and I love you." I actually laughed out loud and hugged her tight, kissing her on the top of her head. "You daft bat," I laughed, "I've done all those things because I love you, because you are so special." "Whatever your reasons you did them," she took hold of my hand and gave me the first of my Christmas gifts, a small white box. I lifted the lid and looked inside, seeing the simple but elegant silver ring with a single mounted diamond flanked by a pair of purple sapphires. It was a very nice ring. "I know that you won't be able to wear it often," smiled Alex, "but I wanted to give you a symbol of my love for the feminine side that you have brought out just for me. May I?" She held out her hand and I placed the ring box in it. Taking the ring out of the box she took hold of my left hand with her left hand and used her right hand to place the ring on my ring finger directly above my wedding ring. "There, now you are husband and my girlfriend too. Shall we start the destruction?" And with that she picked up her first present and ripped the paper off, leaving me staring at a very feminine ring and trying to reconcile the thought that she had referred to me as her girlfriend. Alex squealed with delight at the sight of her first gift, an autographed first edition by JK Rowling. "Oh Honey it's wonderful, thank you," she purred, "here your turn." As she spoke she moved to the pile of gifts around the giant teddy bear and, apparently at random, selected one. Handing it to me with a smile. I carefully opened the package, trying not to rip the paper, the total opposite of Alex's actions with her present moments earlier. My first view of my gift was faded denim, to look at it was the same sort of denim that I had been wearing for most of my life. But to the touch it was very different. The material felt thinner and lighter than my regular jeans, but that is what the gift was, a new pair of jeans. Impatiently Alex begged me to try them on and, as always I did as she wanted and, after taking of my pyjama shorts but not my knickers, I pulled the jeans up over my legs. The material felt much softer on my skin than I was used too and the jeans were tight around the top, tight but not uncomfortable. In fact they were the opposite, they were very comfortable, and from my view they looked quite good too, although I would need to check in a mirror later to make sure. The present opening continued with us each helping ourselves to gifts from the relevant pile. It was the usual sort of fair, CD's, daft little puzzles, books, socks, bits of fun. Then Alex, instead of taking a gift from her pile she took one from mine and handed it to me. "You have a few more left than me," she said, "so you need to catch up." I opened the parcel. This one contained a pack of two t-shirts, one white and one black. The most notable thing about them was the sleeves, they reminded me of the sort of thing that James Dean would have worn, rolled up to the top, you half expected there to be a packet of cigarettes hidden amongst the rolls. Pre-empting my wife's request I slipped of my pyjama top and pulled the t-shirt on in its place. It fit perfectly and the James Dean sleeves really did make me feel like a bit of a rebel. Without giving me time to breathe Alex handed me yet another gift, this one a big box. Inside the box was a pair of Adidas trainers, white with silver flashes, but the markings on the insole were pink. "Hang on," I said, "are these girl's?" "Yes," replied Alex, "but you can't tell. Really you can't. Just try them on, please. Here you can wear your new socks too." She handed me a pack of plain black socks that I had opened earlier, I had just registered that they were socks then, now I read the label. 'Ladies size 6-8', a realisation began to dawn on me. With a degree of trepidation I pulled on the socks followed by the trainers. In my head I wondered what I looked like? How stupid did I appear in these girls clothes? I turned to leave the room so I could look at myself in the full length mirror in the hall. Alex followed close behind. My initial response upon seeing my reflection was one of relief, I actually looked pretty normal. The view improved dramatically when a pair of hands snaked around my waist. "My girl," she whispered, "you look perfect." "You don't think people will notice?" I asked, "What about my..." I waved my hand over my crotch, the tightness of the jeans doing nothing to hide the flatness between my legs. "Nobody's going to be looking at your crotch," laughed Alex, "except me of course, and I rather like it." As she spoke her hands moved from my waist, one moved upwards to caress my chest, the other downwards to my flat fronted crotch. For the first time in months I was fully dressed and Alex wasn't repulsed by the touch of my body. In fact, she seemed to be rather enjoying herself, and making me rather enjoy it too. Sadly it was over all to quickly, Alex removed her hands and stepped backwards. "Come on, you look gorgeous," she smiled, "but we've still got presents to open and I'm starving." It took longer than usual to open the presents that year but eventually we were sat down enjoying warm croissants and hot coffee, surveying the piles in front of us. My pile contained a lot more clothes, all of them ladies, but most of them in a style that could be passed of as male. The exceptions to that being new pyjamas and a pile of sexy underwear that Alex was desperate for me to model. Apart from the presents I will never forget that Christmas Day for one big reason, for something I was beginning to doubt would ever happen again. After our Christmas dinner, which was marvellous if I may say so myself, Alex and I cuddled up on the sofa and watched TV all day. Having finally found a way to overcome her fears it was as though Alex couldn't bear to let me go and I wasn't about to argue. We did stop long enough to eat a tea of leftovers, cold turkey and stuffing sandwiches, that sort of thing, topped off with mince pies, Christmas cake and far too many chocolates and nuts. Even when we went up to bed Alex refused to let go, taking off my new jeans and t-shirt and dressing me in the sexiest of my new pyjamas, pale pink satin French knickers and a matching, loose fitting, low cut camisole top. My penis remained tightly tucked away in it's gaffe, out of sight, but not quite out of mind. Well