Something in the Water Ch. 03

Something was irritating me. My feet felt odd, like they were jammed inside too-small shoes, and I couldn't spread my legs out to stretch. I awoke with a start as I realized my panties were acting like a hobble, pulled down as they were, just above my knees. As I rolled over to adjust things, my shoulders felt the bra and I moaned with the sheer ecstasy of it all. I sat up, finally opened my eyes, and there was my Jenny, lying beside me languid and smiling at me with her head leaning on her left arm and hand. Her hair was messy and sexy.

The room smelled like sex, perfume, pheromones, sweat, and lubricating fluids a mix unlike any other. I reached down to pull up my panties and brushed the half dried semen on my lower belly that was dumped upon me before Jen rolled off during our sleep. I smiled and reached for her.

But she pulled away. "We have to talk," she said, the smile gone.

"What? Like a debriefing after the event?" I laughed.

Jenny was smiling slightly, but serious as she said, "Yeah, I guess. Something like that."

My heart was sinking. She didn't like this after all. I was going to be put down, parceled up and put away again, just like the rest of my life to date. I reached for the covers on the bed and covered myself up, embarrassed and ashamed once again. Did it ever end?

Jen continued, "Look Jackie...Jake, I..." She got up and wrapped herself in her bath robe, "I'm mixed up and afraid about this. I feel weird. I feel excited, but right now I don't feel comfortable. Maybe this wasn't a good idea. I dunno; what do you think?"

I had become very good at stifling my desires, as my self esteem was tuned low, so I said carefully and with concern for her, not me, "I understand. It was fun, but I get it. Maybe it's not for you."

I actually felt completely crushed and I continued by blurting out, "Would you mind leaving the room while I get out of these things?" I couldn't stand the thought of being in her presence dressed like this. I was breathing shallowly, almost nauseous, and I waited for her to leave.

"No," she said softly, shaking her head, "you don't understand. I'm the one with the problem, not you."

I looked at her, puzzled, "What the hell do you have a problem with other than the fact that your husband is a pervert?" I was angry, and now selfish; I was anguished. My world at that moment was very, very small; I was thinking of me.

"Jake, stop it! You are not a pervert. Well, actually you are...but that's not the problem. I think I am too. That's the problem." And she laughed slightly.

"Jen, look; I'm the one dressed in a garter belt. I understand where this has to go. It's okay. The way it was before is okay. I'll always love you; that's what's important."

It was not okay. I knew it. Don't go there. Don't go there. Don't ever go there.

Jen looked at me and started to pace the room. What the hell was going on inside her head I wondered? She continued to stare and pace, stare and pace, pausing only long enough to gulp down some very warm leftover Chardonnay on the vanity. Finally she came over to me and sat down on the edge of the bed, curiously pulling the sheet down, away from my neck, and gently touching my gartered hips.

"Jake...Jackie? I have a confession to make." I started to ask her what it was, but she put her hand up making me stop.

"Jake, I've put you through misery for seven years. No, don't say anything; I have to get this off my mind. You presented me with your fantasies about five years ago I believe, and I shut you down. No, let me finish! The reason I did that is not what you think, not what you think at all."

Jen paused to control herself. Were those tears? Jen never cried. Ever. I was speechless as I waited. I couldn't imagine what could be so traumatic, that she would be in such a state. Did she have a lover? Did she never love me? No, I trusted her; she loved me; she had to; she just had to.

"The reason I shut you down was because...was because I was...I was afraid of the unknown. I was afraid of me, not you. Opening up Pandora's Box like that would have been an uncontrolled event, one that I didn't understand, one that would have changed our dream of having a normal family, all that stuff."

"Oh, honey...honey, don't," I said as I hugged her close. She was crying now as we both remembered the surgery three years ago, the closing event on our plans for having children.

She straightened up and wiped the tears away, "Let me finish. Now that it's just us, and always will be, things are different, but I'm still afraid. Jake, I can't be "out of control"; you know that. I hate it when I can't control things. The problem is...well, the problem is..."

The problem was that she wasn't spitting it out, as far as I was concerned.

She continued, "The problem is that the thought of you dressed up in girdles, corsets and skirts is... Damn it; it's just plain erotic for me. It always has been, and I don't know whether I'm a lesbian or what! I thought I could handle it, but I'm not sure I can. There, I said it!" And she stood up abruptly and stared at me with her hands on her hips.

I was dumbfounded, "You mean I'm not the problem? You're the problem?"

I couldn't help it. My shame and guilt evaporated like mist on a hot frying pan and I started to laugh. I laughed hysterically until I noticed she wasn't. My shaking shoulders became still and I held out my hand to her, "Honey, come here. You could be attracted to door frames and I'd still love you. You've just made me the happiest man on the planet. Unbelievable! My fantasies are yours? And YOU have a problem? Come on; let's get up and crack open another bottle and talk okay? I'll get out of these things."

My laughter hadn't been completely wasted I saw, as she smiled and said, "No, damn it; get up and put your skirt back on. Then we'll talk."

For the first time in my life I pulled the skirt up over my hips, did up the back zipper and smoothed my blouse as best I could, all without guilt or shame. Everything swished as I moved and the exhilaration was palpable. I wanted her again.

Later, sitting at the kitchen table, candles lit, we talked, and it was the most warm and honest talk we had ever had. Intimate secrets, all held close till now, revealed themselves like crocuses under retreating spring snow.

"Jen, there's one thing I don't understand. If this is your reaction to this, you must have known that you might feel this way, and yet you say you ordered a corset and breast fillers for me. Why?"

She stared at her wine glass and delicately stopped a run of wine down the side of the glass. "Well, I simply underestimated the power of it I guess. This is harder for me than I thought and in a very different way."

I thought about that for a second and then said, "You say you studied my fetish for quite awhile. Well, you must also know that a man like me quite often needs to be controlled, to be dominated if you will, by a woman. You say you feel out of control. I don't get it. You can control everything if you want. It's just you and me. What does it matter?"

Her eyes flashed green again in the candle light and she had the strangest look, a Mona Lisa look. "That's exactly what Jillian said," she mumbled.

My heart froze. "Jillian! Jillian? Your friend and my friend Jillian? Doug's wife, Jillian? You were talking to her? About me? About this?"

Jen froze then too. "You mean you didn't actually know about Doug? For God's sake Jake, do you know him at all? Haven't you noticed his face?" She shook her head in amazement in a "duh" moment.

There was a hole opening up in the fog. "Wait...you mean Doug is a cross dresser? What about his face?" I squinted my eyes trying to picture him and then I got it; he had the strangest eyebrows I had ever seen, slim, arched, feminine. Contrived, that was it, contrived. And Jillian always told him what to do and where to do it.

"Oh. My. God. So is Doug gay?" I asked, immediately realizing the ludicrous and universally accepted way of categorizing a cross dressing male.

"No, he's not. Are you?" Jen asked sarcastically, "I can't believe you said that. She's been in control of him for years now after she caught him dressing in her clothes."

I tried to picture him all dressed up and it didn't work in my mind. I watched football games with him for Christ's sake. We golfed together and we swore like troopers when we hit a drive off the fairway. We pissed on tree trunks side by side in the bushes. Dressed up and made up? No, no, and no. I closed my eyes and shook my head. Then my mind came back to the real issue.

"You talked to her about my cross dressing? How could you do that? How long ago was that?" I had visions of Jillian and Doug imagining me in women's clothes and I shuddered. I was angry and it showed.

Jen was never one to back down from a fight, and sensing one now she bristled at my anger. "Look, thanks in no small measure to Jillian, you are sitting here right now dressed in, let me see...garter belt and hose, panties, bra, blouse and skirt, with other goodies on order. And it seems to me you really like it, don't you... JACKIE? You can go change out of them right now and I can cancel the orders. You want that?"

The way she said "Jackie" I found humiliating, but strangely erotic. I was silent as I pondered that. I liked humiliation? Did I? I calmed down and said, "Yes, I'm afraid I do like it. A lot. But why did you have to talk to someone else about it?"

"Simple; I saw our marriage disintegrating before my eyes and I talked to my best friend about it. Girls do that you know. It's the way we cope."

I poured myself another glass of wine, stared at it droopy-eyed, and then pushed it away, realizing I had hit the limit. There was no more upside to drinking, only downside. I sighed, "Okay, I get it. What's done is done. So, what did she tell you?"

Jenny had pushed her wine aside as well and got up to get a drink of water instead. "Many things," she answered, and her eyes flashed green again.

What was different about her now, I wondered? Suddenly my wife was this mysterious person who knew more about me than I knew about her, or maybe even myself. Quietly I said, "Don't drink the water."

"Why?"

"Something in the water here, remember?"

We both stared at each other for a few moments and then we burst out laughing.

"Well," she smirked, "I'm feeling pretty good. I'll drink as much of this water as I want. And you know what? I don't think you'll stop me, will you? Seriously, I am feeling better though. I think I can handle this. This has been a good talk. You look so cute in your outfit by the way, but your makeup is a mess."

"You didn't answer me. What did she tell you?" I asked.

"Yes I did answer you, but I can add this. Cross dressing is something that can get out of control. If I let you, you'll be dressed all the time or at the very least, times when I don't want you to be. I'm not saying I wouldn't like that; I'm just saying that I have to be the one in control of the journey. I buy your clothes; I tell you what to wear, when, and how long. Any body alterations will be my decision, not yours. My actual fantasy is...umm, oh never mind."

I perked up at this. "No, you can't leave me hanging like that."

"Okay, you asked for it. I think I want a real man, real penis, a man that looks like a real woman, real boobs, all that. How's that for kinky? And you say you're the kinky one!"

My penis stirred in my panties and my face started that burning sensation again. "Real boobs? Wait a minute here. That's actually been a fantasy of mine but it's not realistic. I have a job, friends, all that. This can't go beyond the bedroom. Could it?" I stopped and started to imagine myself out in public dressed as a woman, "passing" with the help of bouncy breast implants. It excited and scared the hell out of me. "I was just thinking; this could be a life changing event couldn't it?"

She sat in silence for awhile, thinking. "I suppose that's true. I guess I should make some rules for you to follow shouldn't I?"

Jen took a few sips of water and started pacing. "Okay, just so I can ease myself into this a little bit slower, here are the rules then. Number one: you dress up only when I say; number two: I am the object of your desires...no masturbation." I tried to interrupt. "No," she said, you told me years ago that you sometimes masturbated when you dressed. I don't like that. I remember EVERYTHING."

"And number three: I make the rules. There; I actually feel better, but I can't help but feel like I'm a slutty dominatrix or something."

We laughed at this and I said, "Well, maybe you are dear; maybe you are."

We both looked at the clock at the same time. It was 1:00 AM.

"Jackie?" she said softly, "It's time we went to bed to sleep this time. But I can't help it; I have to fix your makeup. Oh, and I have another item for you to wear. Take your blouse and skirt, hose and garter belt off and I'll show you."

I followed her like a puppy into the bedroom and the closet where she held up the most exquisite sky-blue satin nightwear. Jen unbuttoned my blouse so I could remove it and I slipped out of the skirt, hose and garter belt and I let the satin gown fall over my body. It had a heavy feel but slipped over my skin without friction. I was breathing heavily as she sat me down at the vanity once again to fix my makeup. Who did she think she was fooling, I said to myself, as she reapplied the mascara, eye shadow and lipstick? She wanted sex again and I did too.

Happy and relaxed other than the sexual energy, we went to bed. She laid with her back to me as we spooned, silk and satin on silk and satin.

"That's it baby. I want you to want me. I'm done for tonight. Good night. I love you," she whispered.

"Ohhh," I groaned, "Okay, I love you too."

"Good boy. Remember, I control things now. Sleep tight baby. Early to work tomorrow."

I lay there swimming in the silk and satin of my gown as she pulled away from me and went to sleep. The last thought I can remember before sleep overtook me as well, was how could our world have changed so fast?