The Writer's Secret Ch. 05-06byAnnMichelle©
Synopsis: Loren had no idea what he was getting into when his agent suggested he write transvestite fiction. Nor did he realize how eagerly his wife Stephanie would embrace the idea of feminizing her husband. How far would they go?
Chapter 5: Dinner Party Preparations
The night before the dinner, Loren and Stephanie sat in the kitchen. They'd gathered the ingredients for the meal and had divided up the cooking and table setting responsibilities. Everything was ready for tomorrow, except they had yet to discuss the obvious, a topic Loren was incredibly anxious to discuss, but afraid to bring up: what would he wear?
Stephanie sat at the kitchen table with her arms folded and her legs crossed. A pink five-inch high-heeled, open-toed pump dangled from her toes. She'd gone out that morning to buy various items of clothing, including a couple pair of five-inch heels. She never would have considered shoes like this in the past, but since she was playing the role of Candi, she wanted to be faithful to the book. Plus, she thought it was kind of kinky. And now that she wore them regularly, she was surprised to find they weren't actually as uncomfortable as she imaged; though that was because they had a three-quarter-inch platform, so they really weren't much higher than her already high four-inch heels.
Loren sat across from Stephanie in his dark gray slacks, a white shirt and black open-toed pumps. His bright red bra showed clearly through his shirt, especially as Stephanie had padded it slightly to give him the appearance of having small breasts. His dark red toenail and fingernails stood out prominently as well.
"You know, as busy as we've been, we haven't had a chance to read much further in Brandy's story," Stephanie said with a trace of disappointment.
"I know. I guess we'll have to wait until after the party to catch up with Brandy and Candi," he said, suggesting for the first time that he was willing to continue after the dinner.
Stephanie smiled, but didn't say anything directly. "I wonder how our author would handle a scene like our dinner party?" she asked.
"It would probably turn into an orgy," he said as he finished sorting ingredients.
Stephanie laughed. "Probably. As you said, he lacks subtlety." An evil grin appeared on her lips, but she stifled it. She waited a few seconds. "So you tell me, Mr. Author. . . sorry, Madame Author, how would a decent writer handle a scene like our dinner party? What would you do to make the scene exciting?"
Loren folded his arms beneath his new breasts and crossed his legs in the feminine manner Stephanie demanded. "To make a dinner party exciting, you need some sort of subtext. You need double meanings and little secrets going on, and you need to build suspense."
"Like what? Give me an example," she said.
Loren failed to notice her intense interest. "Well, the shared secret that he's wearing women's underwear is a strong start. You can build all kinds of subtext from that. Then you need a ticking time bomb, something the audience knows is going to blow up on the main characters but which they can't see. Some sort of risk to up the stakes."
"You mean, like the guy's fly is open and he keeps getting ready to stand up?"
"Nothing that obvious, but that's the general idea. Something that keeps the danger of getting caught right up there in the front of the reader's mind."
"If I was writing it, I'd probably end it with a dramatic reveal where the couple gets caught."
"What would happen then?"
"Well, in a real book, the people would storm out pretty upset at being brought into a perverted sex game. In porn, I supposed they would jump in and play along."
"Give me some ideas for a ticking time bomb."
Loren shrugged his shoulders. "Nothing comes to mind. . . maybe the zipper thing, like you said. Or if I wanted to go over the top, I'd have the guy wear a skirt and have to find ways to keep from standing up. Then I'd have one of the characters drop a fork and keep meaning to pick it up, but getting caught up in the conversation."
"Of course, none of that would work in real life," Loren said, still oblivious to her keen interest.
"Oh, of course," she agreed, trying to hide her excitement.
"So what am I wearing tomorrow?" He held up his fingernails. "I'm not wearing this."
"No, of course, not. The idea is to keep this our secret."
"So what am I wearing?"
"That will be my little surprise."
It was an hour before the guests were to arrive. Stephanie was excited. She had decided to stay in the Candi character, despite the party. Hence, she planned to wear more risqué clothes than she normally would. Specifically, she decided to wear an ultra-tight pink mini-dress, which she'd always avoided because she thought it was too tight, with pink thong panties and no bra. To this, she added multiple earrings, something she rarely did, and the five-inch pink heels she bought the prior day. She painted her finger and toenails silver. She couldn't wait to see if anyone caught on to anything unusual about her. . . or Loren.
Loren was a nervous wreck. All day he'd been watching the clock tick down and with each passing second, his terror grew. When it finally came time to change, he almost couldn't go through with it. In fact, he nearly begged Stephanie to change her mind, but he knew she wouldn't.
Loren stripped off his makeup and the nail polish from his fingers and took a long hot shower to calm himself down. He left the bright red polish on his toes, as instructed. He also made sure to shave his entire body again so there was no stubble. When he finished, he toweled himself dry and stepped into the bedroom, where Stephanie had laid out his clothes. On the bed were pink panties, a pink bra, tan stockings, some black dress pants he hadn't seen before, and a pinkish-red sweater he hadn't seen before either.
"Where did the pants and sweater come from?"
Stephanie sat as her vanity table checking her makeup. "I picked those up when I got my new five-inch heels."
"Why?" he asked as he picked up the knitted sweater and turned it uncomfortably in his hand. It had a subtle heart pattern, a mock-turtleneck and three-quarter sleeves. The sweater sat on that fine line where it was neither masculine nor feminine and how people perceived it would probably depend on who wore it.
"I thought they would look nice on you." She paused. "You don't have to wear the sweater if you don't want to," Stephanie said innocently, "but the pink bra shows right through your dress shirt."
Loren shivered. "No, I'll wear it," he said before sliding on the panties and then attaching the bra. He pulled the pantyhose up his legs. Then he walked over to his sock drawer.
"Where do you think you're going?" she asked as she watched him in her mirror.
"I'm getting some socks."
"No way, Laura."
"No socks. You wear what I give you or nothing."
"But everyone will see I'm wearing pantyhose!"
"Don't be so paranoid. They won't be looking at your ankles. Besides, the pants I got you are longer than your normal pants and will cover you better."
Loren scowled. "How can I wear longer pants? I'll be stepping on them all night and my wingtips will rip right through them," he said sharply.
"Don't get nasty with me Laura. And if you want to wear shorter pants and show everyone your pantyhose, that's fine by me. Personally, if I were as concerned about getting caught as you claim to be, then I would choose the longer pants, but it's up to you." She paused to watch Loren's expression as he picked up the pants. They were black but with a nearly invisible reddish plaid pattern. They had a hidden side zipper, which was distinctly not masculine, and they were wider at the bottom than they were in the leg.
"Oh no," Loren groaned.
"Oh yes," she said. "And as for tripping over them, you won't be tripping over them in your wingtips because you aren't wearing your wingtips." She rose and walked over to the side of the bed, where sitting unnoticed by Loren, were a pair of Stephanie's black loafers. These looked exactly like Loren's normal loafers except they had a one and a half-inch block heel as compared to the half-inch heel his male loafers had.
"You can and you will!"
Loren stared at his wife. "Everyone will know!"
"Only if you go around telling them. Seriously, are you planning to put your feet up on the table? They look just like male loafers and with the extra length in the pants, no one will notice a thing about your shoes."
"No 'but,' dear. Get dressed." She patted him on the rear before returning to the vanity and the lipstick pencil in her hand.
Loren took a deep breath and got dressed. When he finished, he examined himself in the mirror. He wasn't obviously feminine, but he wasn't as masculine as usual either. The sweater wasn't overtly feminine, but it was tight, which allowed hints of the bra straps to show through at the back, though he didn't realize that. Plus, Stephanie insisted on padding the bra ever so slightly, which gave him the appearance of very small breasts. The pants looked masculine enough that no one would question them, unless they noticed the missing zipper. The loafers gave just a hint of something being off, especially when he walked. Fortunately for Loren, it was only a hint and it wasn't enough to scream "women's shoes." Where the problem really began, however, was his face. Stephanie miscalculated a bit on his eyebrows the prior day and they had crossed over into "oddly feminine." Also, the way she had curled his collar-length hair to give it a frizzy look made his hair seem effeminate. The clear polish on his fingernails didn't help either, as it gave his hands a soft, sparkly appearance. Would anyone who didn't know what to look for notice? Loren didn't know, and that worried him.
Stephanie didn't know either. But unlike Loren, it excited her to find out. And what excited her even more were the surprises she had planned for poor Laura!
Chapter 6: Feminine Roulette
Loren wanted to wait at the table as the guests arrived so they never got a chance to see his pants and shoes. Stephanie wouldn't hear of it. She made Loren open the door as she stood behind him so she could watch their faces. If they made him, she wanted to witness the moment.
First to arrive were Kathleen and Peter. Kathleen was Stephanie's friend since college and actually lived a few houses down. She wore a dark blue, figure-hugging, calf-length dress with a thin black belt and basic mid-heeled black pumps. She kissed Loren on the cheek before hugging Stephanie. She didn't seem to notice anything. Her husband Peter wore khaki pants and a blue blazer. He shook Loren's hand and also noticed nothing. Stephanie was almost disappointed.
Moments later, Jane and Greg arrived. Jane was Stephanie's friend from work. She wore black pants, a copper turtle-neck sweater, and reddish-brown boots with a minor heel. Greg wore brown corduroy pants, black loafers and a tweed jacket. They didn't notice anything either.
When they were all seated, Stephanie asked what everyone wanted to drink. She then fetched the drinks as the two couples and Loren started the conversation. She returned just in time for the evening's first hiccup.
"Loren, I have to ask. Are you wearing perfume?" Kathleen asked bluntly as she took the wine glass from Stephanie.
The color left Loren's face. "Uh. . . no, I'm not wearing it. . . uh, well, actually yes, I am 'wearing' it, but I didn't put it on if that's what you mean," said Loren, who sat between Kathleen and Jane and directly across from Stephanie.
Kathleen cocked her head and looked confused, while Jane sniffed at Loren.
"What I mean is, I was walking past Stephanie when she was putting on her perfume and I inadvertently walked through a cloud of it," he explained. In truth, Stephanie shot him with a blast of her perfume as he pulled on the sweater. When he asked how he would explain this, Stephanie responded that she was sure he would think of something.
Kathleen laughed. "That's ok, sweetie, you smell pretty," she said and she patted his hand. But the moment she did, she raised an eyebrow and looked down at his hand. "Did you also happen to be walking past when Stephie was doing her nails?"
Terror struck Loren and he froze, though his erection returned with a vengeance.
Kathleen held up his hand. "Unless I'm mistaken, someone got a manicure!"
"Leave the poor fellow alone," said Peter. "I'm sorry Loren, my wife recently went to a drag show and she's been talking about it non-stop. You'd think she was obsessed."
"Ignore him," she said drolly. "Where do you get your manicures, sweetie?"
Loren's face turned bright red. "I, uh, don't. I mean, this was the first time. I, uh, won a raffle and the prize was a manicure and I figured it couldn't hurt to look good."
"Did you get your toes done too?" she asked.
"No," he said cautiously.
"You don't sound so sure, maybe we should check?" she said as she pretended to look under the table. Fortunately, she only pretended.
Loren instinctively shifted his feet away from Kathleen.
Kathleen turned to face Stephanie. "I don't know, Stephanie. Perfume. . . nail polish. It sounds like your husband's becoming a regular sissy," she said with a laugh.
Stephanie laughed. "Don't I know it! You should have seen how hard I had to fight to keep him from asking for cherry-red nail polish! And you wouldn't believe the lengths I have to go to protect my closet! Who knew being married to a sissy would be so much work!" She winked at Loren as all three women burst out giggling. The husbands looked uncomfortable.
Loren scowled. "Give me a break!"
"What do you call her when she's dressed?" Jane asked, joining the joke.
"She calls herself 'Laura'!" Stephanie said.
"How precious!" squealed Kathleen. "I'm trying to imagine Laura cooking you dinner in her best little housewife dress." She turned to Loren. "Tell me Laura, do you prefer skirts or dresses?"
"Laura's more of a pants girl," Stephanie said.
Loren suddenly felt a rush of terror. Was she about to expose him?
Kathleen threw her hand out in an exaggerated way and let her wrist drop limp. "Pshaw! Sissy's don't like pants, they all wants skirts. Nothing says 'feminine' more than a skirt."
"Personally, I think heels are more feminine," Stephanie said.
"Or panties!" Jane said.
"Oh, that's true," Kathleen said. "So Laura, what have you found to be the most feminine article of your new wardrobe?"
Loren gave her a sour look. Before he could speak, however, Peter spoke up: "Leave the poor guy alone."
"Oh Peter," Kathleen said. "Don't be such a spoilsport. We were just teasing Loren and he was being a great sport about it. Then you had to go and be a jerk about it." She took a sip of her wine. "Sometimes I don't know how I married such a close-minded man! Besides, it doesn't matter what he wears. If he really was wearing Stephanie's clothes, then I say good for having such an evolved relationship." She patted Loren on the wrist as she said this.
Stephanie raised an eyebrow. "You don't think it would be a little weird for a wife to let her husband wear her clothes?"
"No, I don't."
"So it wouldn't bother you if Peter came home in a skirt?"
She laughed. "I didn't say that! He definitely doesn't have the legs to carry off a skirt." She rubbed her chin. "But no, it wouldn't bother me one bit. I think the world would be a better place if more men were in touch with their feminine sides."
"I'll drink to that," Jane said and raised her glass. The other women followed. The men didn't.
After that, the conversation turned to other issues for some time.
Later, as Loren listened to Greg describe a work of art his museum had restored, he felt Stephanie's feet wrap around his ankles beneath the table. She rubbed her foot up and down his leg beneath his pants. He couldn't wait for her feet to keep moving higher. She winked at him. He smiled back. Suddenly her feet slid down on each side of his left foot and yanked. Somehow, she managed to pull his shoe off his foot. His heart skipped a beat. What was she doing! If anyone looked under the table right now, they could see his nylon encased foot and his red painted toenails!
Then he felt her feet surround his other foot. Pulling his foot away would do no good because her feet were already in place, plus he couldn't risk angering her because he needed the other shoe back.
Loren imperceptibly shook his head at her, pleading with her not to do this. She smiled and slowly nodded back. He shook his head again. A sinister smile settled on her lips. She nodded again and he knew it would happen. He bit his lip and let her slide the other loafer off his foot and take it away. He now wore no shoes, and if anyone dropped a fork or napkin, or for any reason looked under the table, he would be caught. His heart raced as he waited to see what happened next. He felt his underarms begin to sweat. But Stephanie seemed in no hurry to do anything. Instead, she turned her attention to the conversation and exchanged several thoughts with Greg. Loren waited pensively, not knowing what to expect, terrified that someone would notice. Minute after minute he waited to be caught.
After what seemed like an eternity, he felt her foot again. She dropped his shoes, one at a time on top of his feet. He breathed a huge sigh of relief and maneuvered the shoes so he could slide his feet into them. But when he slid his foot into the first shoe, he immediately realized these weren't the loafers. These were Stephanie's pink, five-inch heels!
Loren shook his head as vigorously as possible without anyone noticing. The sinister grin returned to Stephanie's lips. She nodded. Loren put his finger together as if he was praying. She shook her head. Loren pleaded with his eyes. Stephanie squinted at him and appeared momentarily like she would growl. She tapped her fingernail once against her wine glass. Fortunately, the others were wrapped up in a debate about the meaning of the painting Greg had described, so they didn't notice this exchange.
Loren swallowed hard. He had no idea where this was headed, but there was only one way out, and that was to move forward and to hope that Stephanie would quickly return his shoes before anyone noticed. He slipped his feet into the heels, knowing that if anyone looked under the table now, he would be ruined. He nodded to Stephanie.
A moment later, Stephanie rose from her seat. "I need to check the stove and then I'll be back with the soup." She walked far enough away from the table that Loren could see she wore his loafers. Then she stopped. "Loren, can you come help me with the soup?"
Loren froze. What was Stephanie thinking? If he stood up now, there was no way he wouldn't be caught.
"Well, are you coming?" she repeated. He could see her smiling mischievously.
"I. . . uh—"
"Oh wait," she said looking at her watch, "the soup won't be done for another five minutes. I don't need help yet, dear." With that, she disappeared into the kitchen.
As the others began discussing prior vacations, Loren sat there terrified. All it would take was for one of them to knock something off the table or to get up to use the bathroom or visit Stephanie in the kitchen and he would be exposed. It would be impossible to miss the bright pink high-heeled shoes on his feet. He wasn't even sure if the table cloth was long enough to keep Kathleen or Jane from seeing his shoes if they just leaned back, or if Peter or Greg could see them if he stuck his feet too far out the other side to hide them from Kathleen and Jane? Where exactly did he need to keep his feet to keep them hidden? His mouth went dry. Sweat dripped down his armpits. Yet, he was intensely erect.