Submitting to Satin Ch. 01

Images of French maids assaulted my brain: black and white satin, with sheer black stockings and black shiny high heels. I shivered at the thought. I felt my genitals twitch in my panties. Was satin my kryptonite?

"Oh, no problem, I just wanted to use the machine. I didn't want to leave your clothes all creased."

"Okay, I appreciate that. You know you are tidiest person I have ever known. I think you even washed up my breakfast things."

"They were in the bowl. I needed to wash my breakfast and lunch things. I'm just trying to help out. It's no problem."

"Well, thank you again, I promise I won't take advantage. Are you watching the game this afternoon?"

Take advantage? Be your submissive maid? Glitch in the matrix Paul! I saw myself dressed, on my knees looking up at Peter.

"Game?" I asked.

"The six nation's rugby: England and France?"

"Oh, I don't follow much sport."

"Well if you feel like pizza and a few beers I have a few mates coming over so please join us."

"Thanks. I have a few errands to run today, but I will see you later. What time does it start?" I asked.

"It's a 3pm kick off, but we will gather at 2pm. Pizza will be served at half time."

I retreated to my room. I consulted a crossdressing site that I had been using. I found information regarding latex breast forms. Did I want to go that far? Did I want to spend a lot of money on my new 'hobby'? I decided yes. I bought C cup forms. They would arrive Monday. I then realised that bigger boobs needed new bras. I bought enough new lingerie so I could dress all week. I then purchased three new blouses: pale blue, hot pink and wine red. I also added a black dress. What else did I need to know?

I considered foundation wear, but rejected it for now. I wanted to feel the silky underwear against my skin. Tip one was removal of all body hair. I think I could pull that off. I would bathe tomorrow and shave. No-one would see me naked. I would need to consider my hair and concluded I would need a wig. Fingernails would need a suitable manicure.

I joined Peter and his mates for the rugby match. I was made to feel very welcome. They were a good group and the enthusiasm was infectious. After the game I retreated to my room. I began more personal research. It was going to be a long two days without lingerie, hosiery, skirts and heels.

I met up with Arwen in the evening. I arrived with a bottle of wine. She wore a red velvet top with short sleeves and a black A line skirt over black opaque tights. Her feet were bare. I could see her dark red toenails through the nylons.

"You seem different," she stated.

"Oh, how so?" I asked worried that she had suddenly had the ability to read my mind.

"Oh, I know, you are dressed as a boy!" she teased.

As she hugged me I was more aware of her boobs, but I couldn't find any words to say.

"You want to borrow a skirt and have some girl time with me?"

Had she hacked my computer or something? Dare I say yes?

"Paul? What's wrong? I'm only playing with you."

Was I shocked, disappointed, embarrassed, ashamed or excited? Yes to all I admitted to myself.

"Is that how you see me, as a girlfriend?" I asked.

"Yes, sort of, it's hard to explain. I trust you completely. I would stand naked in front of you knowing you wouldn't take advantage. You have always been someone I could depend on. You know really trust. I have told you things I would never tell anyone else. Some guys just want to get into your knickers. I am sorry I teased you about your bottom."

"Right."

"So you want to have a glass of wine or a beer?"

"I'll have whatever you are drinking."

"Seriously, though, most girls would love your bum. It's a pity you won't wear tights and a skirt, because I could fancy you as a girl!"

"I never knew you were into girls."

"Well, now you do."

"Thank you for trusting me. It will be our secret."

"It's hardly a secret, but thanks."

We drank the bottle of wine and watched a movie. We cuddled on the sofa. I was too distracted to follow the film. Images of lingerie were attacking my thoughts: satin and lace; bras, knickers, corsets, and silky stockings. All in a dozen different styles, in a hundred colours flashing through my head.

"I miss having you over for nights like this," she admitted disrupting the flow of images in my head.

"Like what?"

"You know a quiet girl's night in."

There it was again- an innocent comment, but one that tempted me.

"You think I would make a convincing girl?" I heard myself ask.

"You want to find out?" she asked gently.

The beer from earlier and the bottle of wine influenced my decisions. She wasn't laughing at me. Should I say yes? Did I want to share this? Dare I?

"Sure."

A single word could change so much. If a leaf falls in the forest... If Paul dresses as a woman did that make him gay? I was referring to myself in the third person. That's concerning counselled my inner voice. Dressing didn't change my sexuality. Even if I was gay or maybe bisexual did that change who I was? No I decided. She led me by the hand to her bedroom.

"Undress," she commanded with a warm non judging smile.

I did as I was told. She handed me white satin knickers without looking at me. The panties were the same as last time. They were scorched into my memory. She pulled a matching bra around my chest. It was a little tight, but enhanced what little boobs I had. She slipped black opaque tights over my feet and ankles.

"Work them up your legs carefully."

I complied.

She threw a blue satin shiny top at me which I pulled on, then handed me a short black skirt. I feigned confusion regarding the zip. Arwen took control and adjusted me. She sprayed my neck with some perfume.

"So what do you think?" she asked turning me towards the mirror.

"I'm not sure she's my type," I joked.

What was my type?

"Well, I think she might be my type. Come on let's dance."

She tugged me back to the lounge. She changed the TV to a twenty-four hour music channel. We danced to a dozen songs before returning to the sofa.

"Another drink?" she asked.

"I think I need some coffee."

"Right, you make the coffee, while I visit the little girl's room. I'll be right back. Don't run off with any strange men."

Men? How far did I want to go? Was I attracted to men? I didn't look at men like I did at women, but was that because that was what was expected? I made the coffee. She sneaked up behind me putting her hand under the skirt and stroked the back of my thighs.

"So, what did we learn tonight?" she whispered as she kissed the back of my neck.

"I have drank far too much wine and shouldn't run off with strange men."

She laughed.

"Another movie?"

"Sure."

We cuddled as we had a hundred times previously, except Arwen slipped her hand under my skirt to the inside of my knee. Weirdly I wasn't aroused, but did feel comforted. The movie ended. I checked my watch: it was approaching midnight.

"I have to go. Thanks for this evening. It was different."

"Yes, I loved it. I hope you will do this again some time."

"I love spending time with you. Now I am single again we can definitely have more time together."

I changed back into my shirt and jeans. I took a cab home.

*

Sunday seemed to last an age. I took a long soak in the bath. I shaved all over carefully. I showered using the new shampoo, conditioner and shower cream. I then applied moisturiser all over. I felt so smooth. That evening I locked my door. I slipped into the satin chemise, which felt amazing, before having the best night's sleep for weeks.

*

Monday finally arrived. I took my usual walk. I showered, dressed in my clean lingerie and stockings. It felt even better now I was smooth. My femininity was concealed under my shirt and trousers. I set my skirt on the bed and the shoes beside it. I hoped the courier was early. As it was, the regular delivery driver rang the bell at just after nine.

"You have been busy recently with almost daily deliveries. I'm Rob, by the way," offered the courier.

"I'm Paul. It's good to meet you Rob. I am working on a project. I always need more material."

"I hear you, have a great day."

"I think I will. I hope you have a good one too. Stay safe."

He waved and headed back to the van. I raced upstairs and opened the box. I found the blouses, the dress, various underwear items and the breast forms. I removed all the excess packaging. I changed the bra for one of the new ones. I inserted the breast forms. I selected a white slip to match my underwear, the white blouse, stepped into the skirt. I completed my dressing with the heels. I checked myself in the mirror: I looked even better now I had a more defined feminine shape. I walked to my office hearing the heels clicking on the wooden floor.

I started work. As I moved I heard the whisper of my nylons and slight swish of satin. I made another online order this time for a wig and some makeup. At lunch I descended the stairs in the heels. I ate my soup at the kitchen table. I loved the sound of my heels on the hard wooden floors. I returned to work. I made good progress. I completed my day's work I changed clothes at 5pm. I was becoming accustomed to my new routine.

I had cooked a chicken breast and with some vegetables. I was just sitting at the kitchen table when Peter returned.

"Good evening, something smells good," he called.

"Hi, it's just chicken and vegetables. If you ever want something cooked you only need to ask."

"Thanks, that's very kind. How was your day?"

"Another busy day in paradise," I replied with a smile remembering how my legs felt in stockings.

"You don't need to hide in your room. I don't bite."

I laughed.

"I'm enjoying the quiet to be honest. No dramas. I'm living the dream."

"That's fair enough. Enjoy your dinner."

*

Tuesday was almost a repeat of Monday, except now with the latest delivery I had brunette shoulder length hair. I wore black lingerie, black sheer tights and the hot pink blouse. I was so tempted to take a selfie, to send it to Arwen, but the risk of someone else discovering my secret made me feel sick. I wondered if other people felt like this- the joy and the fear in equal measure? Each evening I continued my research. I learnt about makeup techniques and manicures. I wondered what my male friends would think of me. It felt so nice to have soft, silky clothes next to my smooth body.

*

Wednesday I had no deliveries so wore the dress. The zip at the back was a nightmare, but pushing from the bottom, then pulling from the top I closed it. I then had a moment of panic- what if I couldn't unzip? I set the alarm thirty minutes early. It took a lot of effort to unzip. I was glad I added extra time.

*

Thursday I dressed in the gym clothes. I walked around the block. No-one paid me any more attention than normal. I showered upon my return. I selected the wine lingerie to match the blouse. The colour was really close. I am not sure why it mattered, but it did. I wanted to be coordinated. I slid black sheer tights over my smooth legs, stepped into my heels and adjusted my hair. The day passed quickly. I made several trips to the kitchen for drinks. Each time I was very aware of the sounds I generated: the sigh of nylons, the whisper of the satin and the percussion of my heels. It was a melody of femininity.

It was mid-afternoon. I was on a bathroom break when I heard the front door. I string of expletives crashed through my mind. Peter was home early. I adjusted my clothing. I removed my heels I raced across the hallway in my bare stockings. My heart was beating so hard. I closed the door. I took off the wig. I opened the wardrobe- I needed trousers and a shirt. The door opened suddenly.

"I told you no girls..."

I turned and froze. Peter filled the doorway: I had no escape. I am not sure who was the most surprised.

"My mistake," he said.

He closed the door. I undressed quickly. I found combat trousers and a hooded top. I was shaking. I had to face the consequences. My heart was racing. I felt sick. I wanted to cry. I had ruined everything. I descended the stairs, each step harder than the one before. I located Peter in the kitchen. I stood in the doorway unwilling to cross the threshold.

"I'm sorry. I'll be out of here at the weekend," I said simply.

I turned to leave. I would hide in my room. I would suffer in silence. Alone! Perhaps that is what I deserved.

"Paul, please wait. Can we talk about this?" he asked quietly.

I nodded unable to speak. I had expected an ultimatum with shouting, all underlined with a tone of disgust, hatred and anger. I stood in the doorway. I was ready to take the punishment: to accept the wrath.

"I would like to apologise," he said pushing out one of the chairs and invited me to sit.

"Why are you apologising? I messed up!" I replied in a barely audible whisper.

"I made an assumption and I violated your privacy. I am sincerely sorry. Please sit."

I shuffled forward and sat. I couldn't look him in the eye so I stared at the table.

"Firstly, you don't owe me any explanation, but I'd like to understand," he offered.

What was to understand? A deviant fetish monster was loose. My mind was so chaotic that I found I had no words.

"I am guessing that you have been doing this for a while. You had me completely fooled. Sorry wrong words. I'm not good at this. What I mean is you looked really good. Still wrong: that sounds like I am hitting on you. Let me try explaining it this way. I have no objections to you dressing, just not on Saturdays when the boys are here. They might not be... as understanding. I would really like you to stay. You are the best house mate I have had since I lived with George. I shouldn't have barged in to your room like I did. I was very wrong, please forgive me."

There was a period of silence. I continued to stare at the table. I processed what he had said. I watched as a tear splashed on to the surface.

"Please say something," he requested trying to meet my eyes.

"Something," I mumbled.

Peter smiled at my poor joke.

"Think about it while I make some tea."

He stood and filled the kettle. I watched him as he calmly prepared the drinks. He hadn't judged or condemned me. There was no rage.

"Thank you."

"To tea?"

"Yes tea please. Thank you for not kicking me out, for not beating me up, for being understanding, for being calm."

"No problem. I would never hit you, unless you hit me first and then only in self-defence."

"And in answer to your other question not so long," I admitted.

"Is that why you have been hiding in your room?"

"No, I have only dressed in the daytime, when you were out. You came home early. I was surprised. I was caught unprepared."

"If you want to talk, I am usually a good listener, but only if you want to."

I poured out the details of the past few weeks. I bared my soul.

"George said you had some trouble, but I had no idea. I'm sorry."

"Well now you know my tale of woe."

"You're made of tough stuff my friend."

"I don't feel so tough. If it's okay with you, I'm going to have an early night."

"Sure I understand. Please don't think you have to go through this on your own. I hope you will stay. If you need to talk I am here as a friend."

I retreated to my room. I locked the door. I tidied the clothes that had landed where they had fallen. I dived under the duvet. I fell into a troubled sleep. I didn't remember any dreams.

The next morning I felt tired, but better somehow. I dressed. I went for my walk. I returned to the house and showered. The smell of the soap and shampoo were soothing. I returned to my room and opened my drawer. I stared for a long time at my pretty lingerie. The urge to throw them all into a black sack, to dispose of them was very strong. I heard Peter's word from yesterday about being made of tough stuff. He hadn't judged me. He hadn't laughed. I stared at the mirror. I mentally questioned myself and imagined my image answering me. I suddenly felt like two people. I asked my final question what would the girl in me do? I made a decision.

I selected pale blue lingerie, nude tights, the pale blue blouse, black skirt and my heels. I dressed, adjusted my wig. I headed to the kitchen for breakfast. I spent most of the day in my office working on the project. I was super productive and made great progress. The alarm sounded at 5pm, but I deleted it. Tonight I would let Peter see me properly. My hands were shaking, my mouth was dry, my stomach rolled and I could hear my pulse loudly in my ears. What was I doing?

I heard the front door.

"Hi honey I'm home," called Peter.

I smiled at his joke. I locked my computer. I descended the stairs. My heels sounded so very loud on the wooden flooring, but still seemed muted to me compared to my heart beat crashing in my ears.

"Hi," I greeted from the kitchen doorway.

Peter looked over from the sink.

"I was just making tea. Would you like a cup?"

Peter was acting like everything was normal.

"I would like that. So how was your day... darling?" I asked playing along.

"Too soon for the honey thing?" he asked with a smile.

"May be, but thanks for not screaming 'oh no a deviant cross dressing monster'."

"Please don't do that. You're not a monster. In fact I don't want you to use any negative stuff about yourself. You look good and no I'm not hitting on you, just complimenting."

"Okay. Thank you."

"So what do I call you now?"

"Crazy?" I tested.

"No you're not and I meant your name. Are you Paula?" he suggested.

"Yes I suppose I am. I'm Paula and I'm pleased to meet you."

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance Paula. I was thinking of calling for Chinese, would you join me? I will understand if you have other plans."

"Other plans?" I laughed.

"You might be going out visiting friends," he suggested gently.

"True, sorry, I'm still being a little sensitive."

"I think that's understandable under the circumstances."

"I would love to join you for Chinese," I confirmed.

We ordered and ate the Chinese with a bottle of white wine. I almost forgot I was wearing a skirt and heels. Peter didn't mention my clothing. We talked about everything except my new hobby. He was easy to talk to.

"So was that your first date as a girl?" asked Peter.

"Oh, that was a date was it?" I replied with a laugh.

"Hey, I told you I am no good at this," he replied.

"You are better than you think. You were a perfect gentleman, not that I have much to compare with. You were a friend when I needed one."

He took my hand over the table. My hand felt tiny in comparison.

"Thank you for joining me for dinner. I enjoy your company. I hope we can do this again."

"It feels strange to be receiving the attention," I replied squeezing his hand.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," he said withdrawing his hand.

"Peter, you haven't. You have treated me normal. Like a person, not a freak show! I'm just not used to this type of attention. I don't really know what I want. I have thoughts that are Paul and others that are... Paula. I guess if I want to continue I need to accept things are different. I think I like being Paula," I admitted.

"Please don't take this the wrong way, but I really want to hug and kiss you right now. I know you are feeling vulnerable. I would never, never take advantage."

"Why? Because I am a man in a skirt?" I joked.

"I must admit I'm conflicted. You have a spark that I find so very fascinating. May I share something with you?"

"You can share as little or as much as you are comfortable with. As you said to me before, you don't owe me an explanation or feel obligated to me."

"You are right and I thank you for the reminder. Not many people know, but I'm gay. I find you strangely attractive, sorry scrap the strange part. I like you because you are witty, intelligent, gentle, considerate and just a lovely person. You have an inner strength like I haven't seen for a while. As Paula, you are not normally my type, but neither is Paul if I am honest. I honestly didn't seek a housemate for anything other than a way to help cover the costs."