That Red Dress Started It...! Ch. 02

I left at half past ten after wishing them bon voyage and spent a rather uneasy night. They were due back on the Thursday, a few days before Christmas. I had five clear days in the middle. On my own. Unobserved.

Saturday turned into a no-no, despite my best efforts I just couldn't get out of helping with some stuff which some students at college were sorting out for the start-of-term event at the beginning of January. It had to be done that day, most of them were off home the Sunday or Monday. Normally I would have been delighted to help out, but this time? I did end up having quite a fun evening anyway, not drinking too much but spending quite some time on the floor of one of my student's flats, basically necking and fondling with his big sister who had come up to take him home to Scotland the next day. I wasn't drunk but she was. Which ruled out sex but didn't preclude all sorts of rather interesting amorous activities. However I made my excuses just before midnight.

I went down to the college that Sunday, it was virtually deserted. Most of the post-holes had been emptied. Now I was on my own. I filled myself in on the contact list - 'away until Thursday' - and left.

I had a light lunch and then, at 2.00 pm precisely, set to it. I had never had a real opportunity like this - and I was going to make the most of it!

I started with a bath, a hot bath, a sweet-scented very hot bath, to soften my skin and get it ready for the next stage. I'd never really had any quantity of body hair, ten minutes after getting out of the bath I had none - courtesy of a depilatory shampoo and a hot shower. I felt smooth, my skin felt sensuous as I patted my body dry. A light coating of a fragrant oil followed, it felt wonderful as it dried on my warm smooth skin. I pulled on the panties I had bought, red and very silky-looking. I tucked myself in and turned to the items I had spread out over the bed.

The breast-forms came next, a new experience for me. I had already spent some time carefully reading the instructions for the forms and the adhesive and so on. Now I put what I had learned into practice, smoothly smearing the adhesive into place, then lying down and positioning them carefully over my chest. Just three minutes later I sat up - wow! The feeling was electric, their weight pulling down, I was definitely going to need strong support from my bra! I then carefully used the supplied make-up round the top edges, ending up smoothing it gently into position and then looked at the effect in a mirror. It looked even better than I had imagined, I honestly couldn't see the join.

Next came the basque, smooth and silky and tight, very heavily elasticated with extra ties at the back. I got the 'boobs' nestled into the cups and then pulled the ties as best I could. Then I had an idea. I looped the ties over a door handle and leaned forward, feeling my waist squeezed in almost until I couldn't breathe. Yet again the sight of my boobs, pushed up and out, excited me. I removed the neck-straps. Yes, I could indeed wear the basque strapless. I had another plan in mind.

I quickly slid on my stockings, the gorgeous real-silk French pair I had been saving, and clipped the lace tops into the suspender straps of the basque. Then stood up once more to enjoy the constricting feeling of the elasticated straps stretched over the tops of my thighs. I looked in the mirror. The stockings did indeed go quite some way up my thighs, I was going to be able to wear a short skirt or dress with them without showing the stocking tops. Or at least without exposing them too much anyway. I settled down again at the small dressing table to do my make-up, taking my time with the smooth slightly gloss foundation cream, not too thickly, just enough to do the job of covering any blemishes on my previously-masculine face.

I enjoyed this part, the make-up, the careful craft of rendering my face feminine. A little blusher, my eyebrows carefully but not too boldly delineated. Eye-shadow, eyeliner, mascara, I just loved the changes which came over my face at each stage of the 'magic' process. Just a little blusher to finish, then steady application with my lip pencil, two coats of lipstick and one of lip-gloss to finish the task.

I often tried not to look in the mirror at this stage, I really wanted to wait to see the final effect in one go. But I had to inspect my wig when I shook it into place after clipping the wig-liner to my own flattened hair behind my ears. But I tried not to see the full effect, that was for later. The wig was not my 'old' straight hair job, this was the dark-blonde one I had bought from 'Transform', shoulder length and rather curly, the nearest I had ever tried to 'big hair'.

I had saved doing my nails until last, knowing that trying to do make-up while wearing them would be awkward. But now it was time to unwrap the pack and stick them into place, longish clear nails, just asking to be painted. I don't appreciate the smell of solvents usually but this was different, sitting there with my silky legs crossed, meticulously applying the shiny colour over the clear surface of the nails, enjoying the transformation as it took place finger by finger, resulting in ten bright red talons, long, thin, shiny and sensual. I felt good.

I was ready for the final stage of the 'plan'. I realised it depended on one thing out of my control but I thought I knew my landlady well enough. She wouldn't have let me down. I slipped on a pair of trainers, they felt odd on my stocking-clad feet. Then a pair of jogging pants and my track top, loose fitting, and zipped it up. It was getting dark outside now. But what did I care? There was no-one around to see me. I grabbed my small 'jewel' case and my high heels and shoved them in a small bag. And left the house.

Not that I was going far of course. Just a few yards to Charlie and Helen's front door. I unlocked the door and slipped quickly in, turning on the hall light and crossing quickly to the alarm console. I tapped in the four-figure code Charlie had set for the period he was away, I was sure he would re-set it after their return. I was relieved when the small red LED went out, to be replaced by the green one next to it. Deactivated, good. I quickly tripped upstairs and into what I knew to be the master bedroom.

I opened the double-doors facing me and was visually assaulted by a TV's delight. Two long racks of absolutely gorgeous, and very feminine, clothes. Not exactly all shapes and sizes, I knew quite a lot of them would never fit me. Helen was, I guessed, a size 8 or 10, I was a 12. But I had looked carefully at her figure in the past few days, I estimated she had maybe put on just a little weight. Which meant that anything she had bought recently would be a 10. I scanned down the rack of dresses and my eyes lit up. Yes. It was there.

That red dress. I knew I had judged her right. She had already been out with the friends they were staying with wearing that dress. Gorgeous though it was she would not want to wear it again in their company, certainly not so soon. I just knew she would have left it behind and I was right. I reached out, my hands trembling a little, and took the hanger, laying it gently on the bed. It was the right dress. I slipped it off its hanger and stared. I was trembling with excitement, never in my life had I dreamed of being able to wear such a dress. I looked carefully at the label, everything was going right, it was a size 10 rather than an 8. I reckoned that with my new basque, pulling me in and squeezing me into all the right places I might well be able to get it on.

I opened the bag I had brought and shook the contents, my jewellery and shoes, onto the bed. I quickly slipped off my outer clothes, then found and clipped on a pair of earrings I had bought specially in town, heavy silver hoops with a red inset. I added four rings to my fingers, a gold and silver mixture but two of them with a fake ruby stone. And, I wondered about it at the time but I did it, a gold band - on the third finger of my left hand. I clipped a silver-mesh choker, again with a ruby motif at the front, round my neck. I slipped on my red high heels. Now for it.

I held up the dress and allowed my fingers to glide over the smooth fabric, feeling my excitement grow. In one sense I just wanted to carry on preparing, the anticipation was such a buzz. But now was the time, I was ready. I slid the back zip down, opened up the dress, and stepped in. I've dressed in women's clothes so often since, it always gives me a thrill, but that moment has been one of the best, the erotic and sensuous feeling as the fabric slid up over my thighs and I reached to fit my arms into the sleeves. That bit went OK, I had to struggle a little to fit it fully over my waist, to pull the cups into place over my basque and hide it inside the smooth folds on the 'bosom' of the dress, the finally to reach behind me and tug the zipper all the way up. It was a struggle but I was ready. Finished. I turned to look in Helen's full length mirror. Orgasm time!

Or nearly. There was certainly, not for the first time but this was the strongest I had felt it, a sexual thrill in seeing myself, in the mirror, dressed like that. It fitted me, not exactly like a glove but it did fit. I looked and felt gorgeous. Dare I say it but, with my 'fake' breasts just about contained I presented an even more sensual and sexy image than Helen had done herself. I shivered as I looked and began to walk round the room, enjoying the feel of the extra-high heels, admiring the way I could swagger a little and exaggerate the wiggle of my bum, leaning against a chair and posing as I exposed my thigh to myself, and - dare I say it - imagining the effect I would have if I walked into a bar full of - men!

Of course that was not on. But I could do the 'bar' part. I looked in the wardrobe again, found Helen's small clutch bag, the one I had seen her with when she had worn the dress. 'My' dress, at least for now. I transferred into it the few things I had brought in my pockets, lipstick, mascara, purse, lighter and so on, and went downstairs. And spent over half an hour strolling round the house, just being there, trying to glimpse myself at every angle in every mirror there, in the hall, in the kitchen, even the large glass window leading to the conservatory.

I found the drinks cabinet and, after carefully inspecting everything so that I could replace things, exactly as before, I did myself a drink, a vodka-and -lime, what I had decided was to be 'my' femme drink. I sat on a stool in the kitchen, legs crossed, posing, lit myself a long cigarette, sipped my drink, and dreamed again what it would be like to be like this, to be seen, to be out in public, looking and feeling so good. To be my own woman.

I even at one stage went up to get my keys from the bedroom, eager to go out, go for a drive, maybe even actually go into a bar. And.... who knows? But I didn't. I just did myself another drink, and posed.

Eventually I dared to actually go out, but only into the back garden. I opened the patio door and stepped out, just strolled for a minute, feeling the cool wind on my legs and on my bare shoulders. But it was a little too cold for that really, I went back in and poured myself another drink and sat on the sofa sipping it, imagining. This was so good, I had a warm cosy feeling all over, I closed my eyes for a few moments.

"Hello there".

What the hell was that!!

End of Part 2