tagTransgender & CrossdressersGetting to Know Her Ch. 04

Getting to Know Her Ch. 04


Ch. 04: Conclusions


This is the fourth and final installment in this series. Certainly reading the prior parts of this series would help in understanding this part. Some might find it useful to also read my first and second stories "Getting into her pants" and "Nobody knew" which provide some additional back story to this series.

For those who haven't read my prior writing here's the background. My wife and I enjoy a relationship where I sometimes dress-up as Stacy, my female persona and my wife's occasional girlfriend. I found that I enjoyed these sessions and began dressing up on my own as well.

After much practice, I finally summoned up the courage to go out in public alone dressed as Stacy. This was soon followed by an outing with my wife. Eventually, we decided to try strap-on sex, which didn't go so well and led to my wife and I choosing a separation.

In Part 3 I described a relationship I had during our separation.

This part picks up from there. It's a little light on sex, but anyone who has gotten this far is hopefully interested in the story as much as the action.


After ending things with Debbie I returned to my previously favorite pass time, dressing up as Stacy, my female alter-ego. Week nights after work I'd slip into a simple blouse and a comfortable skirt, fix my wig and do myself up with some basic make-up. I'd then curl up with a good book, browse around on-line or watch TV. I felt very comfortable dressed this way, it relaxed me in a way that is hard to relate. It just felt good.

I had taken to wearing panties full time and diligently kept myself shaved all over. My toes were polished almost all the time as well. I had even bought myself a silky nightshirt and enjoyed wearing it to bed along with panties and bra to remain as Stacy every minute possible that I was not at work.

Weekends of course were my opportunity to fully become Stacy on a 24/7 basis and I did so with relish. Saturday morning I'd head out to run errands and go to the grocery store usually wearing stylish Capri pants with either sandals or cute ballerina flats. I had become adept at fixing my hair and make-up and I can think of only one or two instances where anyone ever gave me even a second glance as I went about my business.

Saturday night provided a chance to dress up more elaborately and I began looking forward to it around the middle of the week. My outings were still pretty simple, the movies or sometimes local theater. A few times I would window shop a little before hand or maybe pick-up some take-out afterwards. I still didn't feel all that confident interacting with people, but felt increasingly good about my ability to pass unnoticed.

Since part of the 'fun' of the evening was the preparation, I'd start early so I could take my time and really enjoy each step of the transformation. I'd start with a favorite bra and panty set and then slide into a silky camisole or half slip. I had been adding to my collection of lingerie through on-line purchases so some times I would have something new that I couldn't wait to try on. I always liked to save new things for Saturday night and that added to the anticipation.

Next, depending on my chosen outfit, I'd draw on a pair of sheer stockings or maybe patterned or colored tights. Even if it was just plain old suntan pantyhose my whole body would tingle with the warm comforting feeling of being wrapped in feminine fabrics. I still thrilled at the soft ssshhhing noise the stockings would make as my legs rubbed together and I loved how the silky fabrics made my legs look slim and elegant.

I had two outfit styles that I liked. I had an ordinary black knee length jersey dress that fit me just perfect. I could make the look fancy or casual depending on my accessory choices. Sometimes the look was fancier with scarves, jewelry, sheer stockings and modest heels. Other times it was far more casual with maybe a short jacket, contrasting leggings and flat shoes.

My other favorite was a white silk blouse that was ruffled around the neck and had frilly smocking on the front. When I wanted to feel super feminine I'd pair this with a long black print skirt. When I wanted to be more casual I could add a denim skirt and a sweater and still feel pretty.

Whatever I chose, I knew that by the time I had put on full evening make-up, darkened my eyes, fluffed up my hair just so and spritzed on a little perfume I would be deep into my Stacy persona. The soft fabrics, pleasant scents and all the other little nuances reinforcing how I felt and how I wanted to be seen.

It had been just about a year since my first venture outside as Stacy and in that time she had come along way. She was still fussy and careful to make sure everything was perfect before going out and she still sometimes worried that someone might make out her secret. Gone however were most of the butterflies and fears and in its place was a natural confidence and comfort.

Stacy had begun to take on some personality traits that were her own. She smiled more and she walked more slowly. She would often brush her hair back with her left hand and spoke with a vaguely southern accent.

I had a different feeling and outlook as Stacy and I enjoyed it. Stacy wasn't trying to 'be' anything. She didn't have any female friends and wasn't seeking any. She certainly wasn't out looking for guys. In fact, if Stacy had any agenda at all it was simply to not be noticed.

As I described above, part of that agenda was a conservative and tasteful approach to fashion. She didn't wear towering 4" stiletto heels, fishnet stockings or short skirts. It was a wardrobe that screamed department store, not adult store.

Don't get me wrong, I think such outfits are hot to look at can totally understand the allure. It's just not the Stacy that I am or the Stacy I enjoy being.

It would be fun to report about some insanely awesome sex adventure I had as Stacy. Some night where 'I felt all woman for the first time' or 'all my fantasies were realized,' but that wouldn't really be true. In fact, as I look back on it, I'm not even entirely sure what my fantasies were at the time – I was just felt happy and content and that was enough.

The closest thing I had to an adventure was one night I had gone to a local theater to see a play. I had a seat at the back and had dressed up pretty nice. I wore the black jersey dress, sheer hose and modest heels I described above and had dressed it up with a floral pattern scarf and some jewelry. I looked 'dressy' I guess, but not really flirty or sexy.

During intermission it was my habit to just stay in my seat and I usually spent the time perusing the program or maybe fiddling with my cell phone. I didn't want to drink alone at the bar and had no reason to risk a trip to the bathroom (I had never been to the bathroom while out as Stacy). So, I kept to myself and moved about no more than necessary to let others in or out of the row.

As I sat there reading the program a nicely dressed young man came up to me and asked me how I was enjoying the show. I was trapped. He had obviously deduced that I was there by myself and no doubt thought maybe I would enjoy some company. I likewise had no way of knowing whether his attraction to me was as the woman I appeared to be or whether he had 'made' me as a guy.

He was perfectly polite and I couldn't easily ignore him, but I really had no interest in speaking to him. My mind whirled to come up with an excuse to get away, but my thoughts had become flustered by this unexpected development and I couldn't come up with anything that wouldn't appear rude. It wasn't really in my Stacy persona to be rude to anyone, so I patiently mumbled through some simple non-encouraging responses hoping eventually he would move on.

Unfortunately, that strategy didn't appear to be working either. He continued to pepper me with questions and engage in pleasant banter until they rang the bell to announce the coming of the second act. While I was somewhat relieved by this, my suitor used the opportunity to invite me out for a drink after the show.

Again I was caught flat-footed and mumbled through a lame response where I declined his invitation by suggesting that my 'partner' probably wouldn't appreciate me going out. I thanked him with a friendly smile and he gracefully departed. Moments later they lowered the lights for the second act and my heartbeat began returning to normal.

Once my nervousness about the encounter subsided, I began to reflect on what had happened. A part of me was very flattered that he obviously found me attractive. As I replayed the scene in my mind, his body language and style lead me to believe he thought he was hitting on a woman. While I had no particular interest in him, he was definitely a well dressed and handsome man and I had no doubt that he good success, with has smooth demeanor, at getting most woman to agree to go out with him.

As I look back on it, that incident more than any other caused me to ask myself the question of what I wanted from my Stacy time and where this part of me was headed. Increasingly, it wasn't the sexual thrill that it was in the early days when every dress-up session was followed by sex with my wife.

I had spent the better part of two months thoroughly indulging my Stacy side to the point where, at some level the two personalities had began to merge. More and more my 'work-time' thoughts viewed a situation as Stacy might and my evening thoughts were invaded by my original personality. It sounds clichéd to say it, but I began to wonder what my 'real' personality really was, the one I had always been or the one I had gotten to know over the last couple of years. It surprised me to realize, it was probably a bit of both.

I soon began to realize that my Stacy time was no longer about proving that I could pass but more about finding my own personal and sexual identity.

One night in particular I remember lying in bed wearing a beautiful pink bra and panty set. The cups of the bra and the front panel of the panties were the most perfect, shade of pink not too hot, not to pale. The satin was the smoothest ever and so shiny and feminine it almost made me blush like a little girl. The edges all around the cups of the bra were a delicate and soft white lace and a satin rose sat between the cups. The panties were similarly trimmed in lace perfectly framing the leg openings and my waist.

I had never worn anything so perfectly, satisfyingly feminine ever before and as I laid there I openly wondered what it would be like to live as a woman. I didn't feel like a man dressed as a woman, but I didn't feel like a woman with a penis either. I loved the way these clothes felt on me. I loved the way they made me feel on the inside. It wasn't sexual so much as satisfaction. I felt at ease like this, a wholeness.

I began to question where my life was headed. I knew I wasn't interested in finding male partners. That was the one thing I felt I was sure about, although my vaguely flattered reaction to the advances of the guy at the theater questioned even that view. On the other hand I wasn't exactly taking any action that might result in finding a new female partner.

Eventually, as I sorted all of these jumbled pieces together in my mind, I realized or maybe rationalized that I was lonely and that my Stacy time was at least in part a substitution for the time I missed spending with my wife.

I was far from certain about this, and I had wrestled with these thoughts and what to do about them for a couple of weeks without a clear resolution when seemingly out of the blue, my wife contacted me to let me know her project was starting to wrap-up and asking whether we could get together some time during her upcoming trip back East.

She was returning on a Thursday, so I offered to cook her a nice dinner at our house on Friday night. She was first in saying that she had missed me (which I found encouraging) and also in suggesting that we needed to talk (which I found more worrying). I hung up the phone as uncertain as ever, but at least feeling like a fresh page was getting ready to turn and that decisions would be made from there.

* * * * *

After a little more than six months apart, there was something a little surreal about having dinner with my wife at home on a Friday night just as we had done dozens of times before our separation. There was nothing in the tone of her correspondence that hinted at whether this was a good-bye dinner or a reconciliation, so I was very nervous about the evening to the point of taking the afternoon off to make sure I had my head together and everything was right at the house.

I wouldn't quite call it a purge because I threw almost nothing away, but I had spent the last few evenings packing 'Stacy' into boxes and removing any traces of her. As important as my Stacy time had been to me, I didn't really feel bad about this. It felt like the right thing to do and I felt in no way forced to hide what I was doing. I just felt like I wanted to go into the next chapter – whatever it might be – with a clean slate and an open mind.

As one can imagine, I thought a lot about what might happen. I decided that my 'best case scenario,' was that my wife and I could get back together, that we could find a way to go back to being a normal couple, with perhaps occasional Stacy visits on the side both for sex and for casual company. I knew things could never really be the same, but I hoped we could find a way of pressing the 'reset' button and maybe going forward from there.

True to my submissive nature I suppose, I also decided that I was willing to let my wife set the tone. If she said it was done, I felt I could accept that and could devote my energies to moving on, although my destination in that event was far from clear to me. I was prepared to listen and learn where her head was and what she wanted and knew I had developed enough strength and insight about my own needs and desires that I could play whatever hand I was dealt.

We greeted each other with a hug and a kiss and settled into some casual catching-up chatter mainly covering jobs and friends. The conversation was easy and unforced. After almost seven months apart with fairly little contact, there was a lot of neutral ground available and we were both genuinely interested about what the other had to say. After about an hour of this, I suggested I would go put dinner on.

"Wait....," she said and an uneasy look crossed her face. In an instant I became concerned and clenched at what would come next. I have no idea what emotions my face might have betrayed, but with one word my mind had become soup.

She continued, "Before we eat, I need to get something out there......I'm sorry. I'm sorry for causing our separation and I'm sorry for all the things that happened that led up to that. As I think about it, they were mostly my doing. I was selfish, I screwed up and I'm sorry. I hope you can forgive me."

I could see she was holding back tears and I could tell the apology was sincere, so I responded, "I appreciate you saying that. I had a hand in all this too though. We both made mistakes. I'm happy to try to put the past in the past, but what should come next? What do you want to do now?"

"Can I come home? I want to try to work things out. I know I still love you, I hope maybe you still love me and maybe we can start there. Go back to the beginning?"

Tears were gently flowing now as she looked to me for my answer. "I still love you too. I think we still have a lot to talk about, but I agree, loving each other is a good place to start and hopefully it will be enough for us to try to work things out together. I'd be happy to have you home again."

"I know we have a lot to talk about and we will. I know we can make things right. I wanted something and I found out that what I thought I wanted was so much less than what I already had."

"I guess I found out the same thing."

"Will Stacy still be around?" she asked.

"Do you want her around?"

"Yes. I like her. She's fun to be with sometimes. But maybe we should focus on just the two of us first. If we're going back to the beginning, we should probably start there."

"I agree. Welcome home my love....lets refill these glasses and get dinner started."

* * * * *

I won't bore readers with the details of the rest of the conversation that night or our many subsequent discussions (some with the aid of a counselor). Real life is more complicated than 'Happily ever after' but we've done pretty well, avoided a lot of rough spots and remain together and in-love more than four years later.

Likewise, in the course of telling the story I appreciate that I've left a number of loose ends. Allow me to tie up the ones I can:

The West Coast fling

During my wife's time on the West coast, she spent quite a bit of time in the 'lesbian scene' as she put it. She shared a lot of details with me which I variously found titillating, fascinating and off-putting. When I said that to her, she said she sometimes felt the same way. She commented that she always felt like an outsider and that the close knit nature of the community (or at least the part she was introduced to) meant that everyone always seemed to be involved in one another's business.

She also felt that 'the crowd' (her phrase) was overly wrapped up in their sexuality and how that defined them rather than as the people that they are. In her words, she'd be introduced to someone as 'This is Jane, she used to be with Kate, she's a concert pianist" as though having the skill of being a concert pianist was a distant second or even third to the fact of who she used to date and that she was part of the scene.

The sex she said, was very satisfying, but she found that the there was also quite a bit missing as compared to having sex with someone that she really loved. She enjoyed the physical release, the novelty and quite often the power exchange, but she never had an emotional connection and doubted, given the vagaries of the community she was involved with, that she would ever find such a relationship.

In her words, she was really glad she tried it but she put too much mystique on the possibilities that might be there.


I shared in detail, my experiences with Debbie, which my wife handled very well. I was surprised I didn't really feel guilty telling about it, since I had a few regrets at the time. In the context of the reconciliation we were attempting, it seemed right to have it out there and I think telling about it helped me sort out some of my own feelings on the matter.

My wife once commented, she didn't expect me to stay home alone, and was glad that I found some happiness. She expressed some jealousy more from the standpoint that she feels she missed out on some fun than that she begrudges the fact that I spent time with another woman. Apart from seeing Debbie entering a restaurant that I was exiting at lunch one time, I haven't seen her since and to my knowledge, my wife has not run across her either. I'd like to be a fly on the wall if that ever did happen.


One of the first things my wife asked about was how much time I spent as Stacy while she was gone. I shared with her the full extent of my experiences, how those experiences made me feel and my hope that Stacy would remain welcome as both a friend and a lover. I explained that while I thought I could take a break for awhile, there was parts of being Stacy that felt very good to me and I wasn't completely sure I wanted to make a full break from it.

Initially, we made a renewed commitment towards more traditional lovemaking. This part of our life, we both feel, has been greatly enhanced by our time apart. We both bring a fresh energy and emotion to regular male-female sex activities.

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