The Interview; Number 02

"We'll see," she replied enigmatically. "Come on. Get dressed."

A few minutes later, Chris stood in front of the mirror and appraised how he looked. He'd pass just fine. Folks wouldn't notice the difference unless they were looking for it.

"See?" chided Molly. "Told you it would be fine." She was now dressed and wore a skort and strappy running vest. Chris gave a non-committal grunt of acknowledgement. It made Molly pause.

"You ok?" she asked. Chris shook himself from his thoughts and smiled at her.

"I'm fine," he replied. Molly knew he was lying. He was terrible at it and she found it one of his most endearing traits.

"Tell me," she said softly. Chris hesitated a moment before replying.

"It looks the same, but feels different. All your clothes are soft and nice to wear." He paused, embarrassed at what he was saying, not quite sure of what he was saying. Molly smiled and kissed him.

"Perks of being a girl," she said simply. "Besides, it's not all comfortable. You'll have to try on my heels one day and that thong you're wearing? That can get pretty up close and personal with your bum crack." They both laughed at that and whatever was bothering Chris drifted away. They enjoyed a long run through Wimbledon and around the Common before heading back for a long shower together. As the suds ran over their bodies, Molly knelt down and gave Chris another reward, laughing as he slipped in the soapy water, his climax ruined as he pulled the shower curtain over them both.

After the shower, Chris' ego and elbow bruised, Molly lent Chris a baggy T-shirt and he wore his last pair of trousers. They were splattered with paint from the previous day, but she daren't push her luck.

Not yet anyway.

Molly loved Wimbledon and enjoyed the café's and bars that dotted the High Street and Shopping Centre. They stopped in a Café near the cinema and sat in the plaza as folks hurried by on their way to work. They would frequently come and enjoy the bustle of rush hour just to remind themselves of what they had left behind. They felt a little smug, but mostly relieved to have left the rat race behind, at least for a short while. Most of their friends still worked eighty hour weeks and had families, so they spent most of their lives with each other. It never occurred for them to be apart for more than an hour since they'd both finished work and we're closer than they'd ever been.

After some breakfast, Molly led Chris around the shopping centre and they bought a few items for him. She told him that there was no point stocking up now. Better to build it up over time again. He wasn't fussed. Clothes had never really bothered him.

She then stopped in a sports shop and bought a similar hoodie to the one she had lent Chris earlier. After she paid, she then handed it to Chris.

"For you," she said as they left the store. He stopped in the doorway, looking around nervously in case anyone had overheard them. He shook his head.

"I don't need one of these," he replied and made to turn around and return the item. Molly tugged his arm.

"No one will know," she said softly, making sure that no one else heard their conversation. "Even when you're wearing it, who will know?" Chris looked nervous again.

"I don't want you to think I'm...you know?" Molly smiled.

"I bought it for you, remember? And I don't think anything. I love you and that's all there is to it." She walked off, ending the conversation and leaving Chris to follow her, shopping bag in hand. She then took them to an underwear store opposite the sports shop. Inside she bought some satin pyjamas, a negligée, some knickers and matching camisole tops with straps that wouldn't show under a jumper. Chris eyed her carefully as she bought them and she ignored him.

She thanked the shop keeper and passed the bag to Chris.

"That's not all mine," he hissed, careful to keep his voice low.

"No one will know," she said and winked at him. He blushed bright red as she slipped an arm through his and led him from the shop. "Drink?" she asked.

"Drink," replied Chris, worry lines etched on his face. It was a little early, but Molly knew that he'd need the relaxation a couple of drinks brought him. He was always so pliable after a drink or two, she thought as she led him to a bar near where they lived. Stage Two was going very well indeed, she mused.

Later that day, they returned to the flat and she helped him to unpack. He now had a few T-shirts, two pairs of jeans and a new jumper. He had no male underwear and frowned as he realised this. His wardrobe had more feminine clothes in than masculine.

"We need to get me some pants," he said and Molly gave an easy shrug.

"You look nicer in these," she replied, handing him several bundles of satin and lace to put in his cupboard. It had taken a while to clear all the paint out, but was now spotless. She then handed him his purple pyjamas, matching satin top and all. He took them wordlessly and then paused as she handed him the black satin negligee with lace trim on the hem.

"That's yours," he said firmly.

"It's a gift from me."

"Still yours."

"I'm asking you to accept my gift and, when you feel the time is right, to wear it for me. Same as I do for you."

A long pause. She could see his mind was racing and held her breath. Seconds seemed to stretch for minutes, but eventually, he reached out and, without a word, put the negligee into his cupboard. Same for the camisoles. He didn't bother to argue about them, knowing the battle was lost.

She kissed his forehead and smiled.

"No one will know," she said and went downstairs to fix dinner.

The next day, after a jog in which Chris wore more of Molly's running gear, though a little more feminine, Molly danced a mental jig as she stepped from the shower and made her way into the bedroom. Chris was already dressed, having showered before her, and she slid an arm under his shirt affectionately. Her hand brushed against the smooth material of the camisole that he wore underneath, she tugged at this trousers and saw the matching knickers.

A slight pause as he waited for her response.

"Sexy," she replied huskily and made sure to reward him most generously.

Much later, as they both lay drenched in sweat on the bed, Molly purred with satisfaction. Stage Two was complete, she thought.

Time for Stage Three.

Chapter 6 -- Stage Three.

Stage three turned out to be the longest stage, yet also the easiest. They were closer than ever and enjoying better sex than at any point in their relationship. There was a passion and ferocity that they both enveloped themselves in, letting go of their inhibitions and trying new ideas. It was as if they were discovering each other for the first time.

Molly was patient and bided her time, never pushing Chris and letting him find his own way. She suggested he shave his legs; the pyjamas would feel better and he did so without complaint. She delighted in discovering that he had also shaved his chest so that the camisole would feel sexier. They bought the odd piece of male clothing, just to string Chris along, but she also bought a few other things. A top with a bra as part of it, woven into the fabric. A pause as he considered it and then a shrug.

Why not?

She would make sure that he ran out of jeans and so had to lend him hers, the soft, stretchy fabric an eye opener to someone used to rough denim. One evening, as they watched a film, Molly in her satin pyjamas, Chris in a matching pair, she asked him to get her dressing gown as he went upstairs to the toilet. She'd placed two gowns there, both silk, both the same. She eyed the stairs from the sofa, the open plan floor giving her opportunity to see whether he was wearing it as he came down the steps.

She smiled as he came downstairs, dressing gown in hand for her, his already on. They cuddled up in a pile of satin and silks to watch the film and there was a quite air of contentment in the room. Molly soaked it up and felt a warmth and comfort coming from Chris. He was more mellow and relaxed than he'd ever been.

After the film had finished, Molly asked Chris to paint her toe nails. He's done it before and usually did a good job.

"Your turn," she said, after he'd finished. He looked at her and made to protest. "No one will know," she said, saying the well-worn argument. He handed her the pot of varnish and leant back as she fussed over his feet. Fifteen minutes later, she'd painted his toe nails a bright red and it took all of her willpower not to insist that she do his finger nails. Baby steps, she mused as they chatted easily, talking about everything and nothing.

When the varnish was dry, she took her husband by the hand and led him to bed. They'd become insatiable and took every opportunity to touch, caress and kiss.

The next day, Chris said that he wanted to cook a nice meal for her, so Molly put on a chick flick and watched How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days for the hundredth time while Chris fussed around in the kitchen. He was wearing her jeans and a short sleeved satin blouse of hers that she'd asked him to try on that morning. They'd planned a lazy day in the house and he enjoyed the feel of it as he lounged around. He wasn't wearing a single male garment, yet didn't feel like he was dressed as a woman. Jeans and a shirt was what he was wearing. At least that's what he told himself.

No one will know....

It was the house motto.

Chris was a great cook and made a curry from scratch, the wonderful aromas filling the house with its delicate spice. He liked them hot, but not overwhelmingly so, preferring spice and flavour over a burnt mouth. Molly felt herself start to salivate at the smell and smiled at Chris as he brought her a glass of wine.

"A few more minutes," he said and made his way back into the kitchen oblivious of Molly's look of lust at his pert buttocks in the skin tight jeans. She looked forward to how long and sexy his legs would look in a pair of heels and wondered, not for the first time, what was happening to her. She was slowly transforming her husband and loving every second of it. His voice cut through her thoughts as Chris announced dinner and Molly paused the film as she went into the kitchen.

Chris had turned the lights off and candlelight flickered in the room, a warm glow suffusing the air with the light of over twenty tea lights, speckled around the room. Chris had made a feast for them and held the chair for her to sit, laying a napkin over her lap as she sat. He topped up her glass and raised a toast as he sat next to her.

"To us," he declared and Molly joined him, leaning over to kiss him after she'd sipped her wine.

"Thank you," she said and enjoyed being fussed over as he put some rice, Bombay potatoes and Saag on her plate. He'd even made some poppadum's from scratch and she dipped them into a mint sauce with delight.

They spent the next hour laughing and joking, letting the candles burn down until they realised that they were in virtual darkness as each tea light died out. Chris suggested they move to the living room and they watched the end of the film before retiring to bed. Molly was first to the bathroom and almost feinted with shock as she returned to the bedroom.

Chris was lying on the bed wearing the negligee she had bought him. Not only that, but he had borrowed a pair of her hold ups and she could see the lacy tops peeking out from the hem of his negligee. The sheer fabric matched the black negligee and he looked sexy as hell. She growled in lust as he beckoned her on.

"Thought I'd wear this for you," Chris said and Molly almost leapt onto the bed, smothering him in kisses and running her hands over the soft, silken fabric, tweaking his nipples through the satin and making him groan with pleasure. She suddenly withdrew her kiss and winked at him.

"Be right back," she said and this time did leap from the bed. A few minutes later, she returned from the spare room wearing her own negligee and stockings. She was wearing court shoes with a five inch heel and held another pair in her hand. She gave him a sultry look.

"This should be fun," she said and gave her best sexy walk as she crossed the room.

And fun it was. Their love making stretched long into the night. Chris loved the heels, loved the sensation of their satin clad bodies rubbing against each other and delighted in the sheer stockings as they caressed his legs. The sensations were entirely new and utterly transformed him that night. It was a turning point. A moment were the small trickle of feminine things became a flood. Molly felt it too, felt herself embrace this new life, felt her worries and fears disappear into the dark to be replaced by burning certainty.

Chapter 7

Chris padded downstairs when Molly had gone to sleep. He'd taken off the shoes and wrapped the silken dressing gown around his skinny body as he avoided the second, fifth and eighth steps on the stairway. They creaked loudly in the night and would wake Molly if he creaked them. She was a much lighter sleeper than him. She could set off fire crackers in the bedroom and he still wouldn't wake. Only after five am could he be woken with an alarm. A weird affectation that frequently annoyed Molly when they got up early to catch a flight on holiday.

Downstairs, he softly made his way into the kitchen and poured a small amount of wine. He opened the back door and slunk outside. The fence was high and he knew he wouldn't be seen as he sat on the wooden decking and watched the sky above. He hated how the city light blocked the stars, but tonight the moon was bright and dominated the landscape. It was both stunning, beautiful and ominous. He felt a sea of change sweep through him and worried at what it meant.

He'd never considered wearing women's clothes, but now it was all he could think about. He gnawed and worried at the change in him, barely noticing when the kitchen door opened and Molly joined him on the decking.

"Hey," she said. The moonlight framed her face with silver and Chris marvelled at how lucky he was. She was beautiful. Not in a supermodel way, but with character and warmth. She had soul and passion and he could see the moon reflected in her pupils. It gave her an ethereal quality.

"Hey," he replied quietly and offered her the wine. She took the glass and took a sip before returning it.

They watched the moon in silence for a while.

"What are we doing?" asked Chris, his voice barely above a whisper.

"What do you mean?" asked Molly, a little disingenuously.

"You know what I mean," said Chris. He gestured at his attire, at his painted toe nails. Molly sighed. She'd wondered at this many times over the last few weeks and couldn't give an answer. Not one that she knew to be the truth anyway.

"I'm not sure," she said. And that was the truth at least. "I only know I like it. That we've opened a door and stand on the cusp of something."

"Cusp of what though?" he asked. "What if we cross through the door and don't like what we see?"

"Then we turn back," she replied, a little more forcefully that intended. Chris was silent for a long time.

"What if we can't?"

"Ain't nothing bound in thought can't be undone," she said, borrowing a line from a book she had recently read.

"What if one of us wants to turn back and the other doesn't?" Molly took Chris' hand and gripped it fiercely.

"Do you love me?" she said. Chris smiled.

"You know the answer to that," he replied. And she did.

"I love you," she said. "With every fibre of my being. There is nothing you can do or say on this path that will turn me from being your wife. Whatever you do, whatever happens. I'll be right here." Chris knew of no love and emotion more profound than what he felt for his wife in that moment.

"I used to be the CEO of a multinational company," he muttered wistfully.

"Employed over three hundred staff," said Molly wryly.

"Turnover of millions."

"Crappy hours."

"No holidays."

"Stress."

"No time with you." Molly smiled sadly at that. They'd lost several years together, but were clawing it back, day by day. Chris drew her close.

"Molly Joy Williams," he said, knowing she hated her middle name. "I love you absolutely and without fear, compunction or limits." He'd said it to her the night he proposed, the night they were married and now on this night.

He took her hand and led her back inside. Whatever path they now trod, it would be together.

Of that, Chris had no doubt.

It imbued him with courage.

Chapter 8 -- Stage Four.

"Ready?" whispered Molly, nerves wracking her body. She'd manipulated this moment, nudged Chris here, pushed him there and now she was getting ever closer to something she'd been planning for what felt like an age. What that something was, she wasn't sure.

"No," answered Chris. He gave a nervous smile. "But let's do it anyway." Molly kissed his forehead and told him to look up. With a trembling hand, she started to apply the eyeliner.

After they had woken, Molly had turned to Chris and taken his hand. He chased sleep from his befuddled mind as she asked him whether he was ready.

"For what?" he's asked, the wine from the previous mind still fogging his thoughts.

"To step through the door," replied Molly and Chris gave her a thoughtful look. He was quiet for a long time.

"Let me guess," he said. "No one will know?" Molly laughed, an infectious giggle that made Chris grin.

"Who cares?" she replied. "I don't." Chris laughed with her and nodded his assent. Molly almost leapt from the bed and shouted over her shoulder.

"Wait here," she yelled and Chris grabbed the iPad and started reading the news as various thuds and scrapes emanated from the spare room where Molly kept the majority of her clothes. She returned, struggling under a large box. Chris slid from the bed to help her and frowned as he recognised it.

"This is the box that was delivered last month. You said it was my birthday present."

"It is," she replied simply. "Today is your birthday. Or rather, it might be." Chris gulped at this and then his eyes widened as she opened the box and showed him the contents.

It was everything a budding cross dresser needed. False breasts made of the softest silicon, corsets and body shapers, stage make-up for foundation, wigs, underwear, dresses, skirts, shoes of varying heel height and jewellery. Chris whistled as he saw the masses of gear. Molly babbled as she showed him everything.

"I didn't get you too many clothes as you fit into mine, but I got some nice stuff you can call your own. Most of this stuff is to get the basics down, make you look as stunning as possible." Chris suddenly paused as realisation dawned on him.

"This box arrived a while back. A few days after you ruined my wardrobe." He gave her a challenging look. Molly had the decency to look guilty.

"I saw this coming," she responded lamely. She had planned this so meticulously, yet had forgotten to come up with a convincing lie. Chris eyed her for a few moments before taking his dressing gown and heading for the shower. His face was unreadable and Molly reached out to him.

"You ok?" she asked. He gave a slow nod.

"Just going to shave," he replied and gave her a wan smile. Molly chewed her lip with worry as she heard the shower pump kick into gear. Sitting on the bed, she looked at the gear she'd bought on the internet that fateful night. Nodding to herself, she selected the items that Chris would need and then chose a nice dress with some knee high boots that had a wedge heel; much easier for him to walk in them. She laid them out ready and then waited an age for the shower pump to switch off.

When it did, she fidgeted on the bed, waiting for Chris to appear. It took a long time, but he eventually entered the bedroom and looked at the clothes.