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                      The Red that is Gold

                            by JW

Introduction

     Sally and I had met on IRC some months ago and it turned out
to be love at first sight, rather at first chat. A few flights to
visit each other on the opposite coasts ... that was proof of
love, putting up with the flights.

     She visited me first, staying at a local motel to start. I
took her to dinner that night, a modest place with good food that
didn't charge for the decore. The right sort of place, not to try
to overwhelm on the first date but more than good enough to know
there would be at least pleasure in the food if we did not hit it
off in person.

     But we did hit it off.

     At my place the next afternoon we poured over my collection
of magazines and some videotapes in the background. It was quite
an unusual first meeting, much like teenagers before the pill was
invented.

     There we were, literally pouring over the material that
stimulated both of us to no end but we had sworn not to do
anything until we were sure of each other. Both of us
contributing "I've tried that"s and "She always gets me hot"s and
all the other comments that let us know we had found something to
share that we both loved passionately.

     "What is it you feel when you look at these pictures?" she
asked ernestly.

     "Envy. Envy of the woman who is tied or getting spanked.
Always envy of the passive one in the scene." I knew that was the
right answer the moment I said it. Her eyes told it all.

     "Would you like to see my toy collection?"

     "You know what we promised," she reminded me but she had a
deliciously impish look in her eyes.

     "Just look, I promise you." And I meant it even though I was
more than half way aroused. My previous "lives" with women had
been good five ways from Sunday but never in this sixth way.

     She went through everything. All of it virgin to anyone but
what I had used on myself. As virgin as I to all of this. The
image of being a late-blooming virgin had a certain poignancy to
it.

     My toy box was my trouseau. I had tried it all on but never
worn it for anyone. "This all looks so unused," she commented,
clearly expecting an explanation.

     "Mostly unused, yes," I stated clearly, ready to confess, no
longer really feeling embarrassed. "I did not mislead you. I know
the theory. I am well read and a quick study. And I love the mind
set of it all."

     "But no woman to play with?" It was like a probe into my
soul that demanded I give to her but she would not take from me.

     She picked up the leather cuffs and looked at me and licked
her lips. "Turn around," she ordered.

     "We promised," I objected but none too seriously.

     She picked up a ball gag, "Shush and turn around or I'll
shush you for real." Her eyes were more lust than twinkles,
certainly mirrors of my own. The velcro closed them snuggly. I
struggled for her. She leaned me back on the floor and lay a bit
on top of me.

     Suddenly her pelvis was grinding into mine. I shot in that
moment and she quickly followed. Arrgghhh! like teenagers. But
then maybe that is the way people are meant to discover each
other when new lives are young.

     Maybe I will tell the full story of our first meetings some
day. But for now it is enough to say that I moved to Florida and
together we bought a large house with walled grounds for us to
share as our playground.

PART I

     Sally left early that morning. I had barely been awake when
I got her eggs and toast ready. If the coffee had not made itself
by the timer I might not have been awake enough to do that.

     It was turning into quite the life we had hoped for. She had
a job she enjoyed. I didn't have to work as I had more than
enough income to carry both of us. And I am certain we would have
carried the other just to be together.

     I took care of the house, domestic chores and like although
that had lead to a few discipline sessions which was also what
both of us had hoped for. She was teaching, I was learning, we
agreed with the method. Agreed hell, we loved it.

     The chores were not much really, we had a twice a week maid
service for the regular maintenance. It was something I just
loved doing and that Sally loved having me do. I loved to cook
and was good at it. I was re-learning french style now that I had
someone to cook for besides myself.

     And otherwise I still had time for my contract work, what I
did to keep my hand in the business should I ever get restless
enough to get back into it full time.

     But for me the best part, dressing all day, every day,
except when I went out to run errands like groceries and dry
cleaning. Still then I can wear my underwear, panties at least.
Thigh-hi stockings are easy and it was surprising to find just
how easy it was to find women's tennis shoes that didn't stand
out.

     After we moved in together I started getting together a nice
collection of exceptionally man-tailored cotton slacks and
blouses. They were light and airey By paying a little extra or
exercising my skills with the sewing machine all my slacks were
lined giving my legs delicious feeling.

     All of this made me conscious of having to be more careful
of them while wearing them. So not only did I get the physical
sensations but it worked on my head. It got me into a frame of
mind that made me so comfortable I was even able to buy my
cosmetics without pretending the compare the items carefully with
a written list as cover.

     When I first did this there was a problem. When everything
was sharp, neat and spotless people seemed to be able to read me.
I got knowing looks. I didn't want any looks. I wanted no
attention. I just wanted to blend in.

     So I became adept at ironing in some wrinkles and wearing
things around the house passed the point where they were in need
of laundering before wearing them in public. That was what I
called my grunge camoflauge.

     The clothes might not be fully masculine but certainly I was
not trying pass. And it appeared people would get as far as the
wrinkles or the touch of dirt and look away, not wanting to
embarass me.

     Early on, I began to wonder why I had not done it before, on
my own. Most of it was I had no one to dress for. Sure it is fun
to dress up, get excited, relieve yourself and get back to
something comfortable.

     It is another to have someone to wake up to, know they may
come home during the work day, be beautiful for in the evening
and then be bedded. You find you want to look nice for them.

     Any my fortune beyond all good fortune was finding a woman
who wanted me to look nice for her in this way. She wished me to
wear well tailored womans clothes that looked good on me. She
wished the colors to work together. She wished attention getting
accessories and jewelry on me. Her wishes were my
enthusiastically obeyed commands.

     Sally did her part to get what she wanted. She taught me how
to dress, how to put outfits together, to mix and match. Once it
is explained so you get the hang of what you are doing it, it
really is fun.

     A real challenge too, like finding the perfect accessory
that can make many outfits look different with it. Three outfits
and the perfect scarf is like having three new outfits for the
price of the scarf. I can't explain it really. I'll see if I can
get her to write one of these stories some day.

     I know you are just dying to know ... Yes, I have a french
maid outfit. I only wear it on special occasions. It is not a
fetish but a fun thing to wear at times.

     It is just one costume in a growing collection of costumes.
And several of them are far from submissive though I have to
admit being less partial to those. They are all part of the
variety that spices our life together and keeps it fresh and
alive.

     Around the house during the day I dress casual. Usually a
simple housedress. I only wear slacks when I need to get them
"grunged" for wearing in public. I am usually in flats, sometimes
barefoot, rarely more than one inch heels. When I know Sally will
be stopping by for lunch, something a bit fancier but it still
daywear.

     Sometimes I just a hugely oversized teeshirt or that
football jersey Sally got for me and I love so. I'll have to know
you better before I tell you about my underwear. :)

     And that was today, a bit of laudry, some writing, reviewing
a business plan, and studying home decorating catalogs for the
rec room in our new home. Not only was it bare but still
unfinished. It was my chance to do something like this from the
the barebones start.

     Sally would be home around six and it was time to luxuriate
a bit. Going into the routine it still felt like a waste of time
but I was getting to love the long soak in the tub. And she loved
me fresh and soft and powdered and I wanted to do that for her.

     I got my hair in the hot rollers, slid my bathcap over them
and slipped into the water. Everything seemed to melt away in
this sensation. I had long learned what luxuriating felt like.

     I wasn't much on the bubbles yet but the scented bath oils
were something to look forward to. After they changed from being
an irregular private experience into an almost daily experience
they also stopped being something that caused a raging erection.
They simply put me in an intensely erotic mood with thoughts of
Sally's reaction to me this way.

     And of course the body shaving, still a bit annoying for the
time it took but it was something to do as the relaxing hot bath
cooled to just warm. Besides, I loved the look and feel. Even
short stubs of dark brown hair looked and felt much better than
dense curly hair all over.

     And it wouldn't be forever. The electrolysis treatments were
working their way up my legs. They were almost to my knees now.

     As the water got towards cool and I reluctantly left it. I
patted dry, not really necessary but an affectation. I dusted
with perfumed talc. Not really a necessity but both of us loved
the feel and the fragrance. It was like I was marking my
territory, leaving my scent in the air, on her, everywhere I
went. And she loved being marked.

     I wrapped myself in a white satin robe and went to get
dressed for dinner. This was an anniversary dinner and a Friday.
I was going to make very special for Sally.

     Which anniversary? Let her guess ... I had learned that
trick. If she didn't guess correctly, I got flowers or jewelry or
more until I stopped being hurt.

     My underclothing was basic black in lace and satin. And
there were sheer black stockings to a matching garterbelt. And I
added a black slip. The outfit I planned didn't need it.

     But the lace trim and wide lace hem would do wonders for
Sally's attitude when I moved so she could see it. I loved what I
could do to Sally, getting her so hot and horny. I loved teasing
her this way.

     And it would give her more to unwrap later. I was making
myself into a little present for her. I love being unwrapped.

     Makeup, makeup, makeup. Still learning here but practicing
real hard (big grin.) I had not gotten a bit of style to it until
meeting Sally. And then she had convinced me to do just one thing
that had given me motivation, lip collogen.

     I had objected but she kept at me until she threw me in that
briar patch and I had gotten lips, really full lips. Before then
the easiest thing to do had never worked for me, lipstick. I was
a man with colored lips. I just did everything for the feelings
not for the looks.

     Afterwards, even without color there was something feminine
about my face. That was one huge incentive. I wanted to keep them
colored just to attract attention to them.

     And it was passable outside home. Sally was so great at
supporting me in becoming what I wanted to become and what she
wanted me to be.

     And after I was so happy with my new lips she started
encouraging me to more surgery. I was almost convinced to have my
eyes widened along with the face lift that was scheduled for next
month. "This way you won't have to go in twice," she kept saying
as though it was a foregone conclusion that it was going to
happen eventually.

     I still wasn't sure of getting a butt and hips but with
Sally around they seemed inevitable as well. It was a matter of
time before she had me comfortable with the idea. And I was
always looking longingly at the way her skirts draped so loosely
from her hips.

     But just with my new like doing my eyes had become a
compulsion. She still did them much better than I but if I took
the time I could do something credible almost doing it right. The
more feminine I looked and acted the more aroused, the happier
she was. Making her happy was one of the great motivations in my
life.

     So I completed my make up -- facial hair I had had
electrolized on my own years before meeting Sally. Foundation,
facial color, mimicing Sally's treatment of my cheekbones.

     I then started on my hair, taking it out of the rollers,
spraying and brushing as I went. It wasn't that long yet but I
was able to work up a bouyfant style with curves surrounding my
face and some modest height on top.

     It was only a bit lighter than I was born with. Sally had me
slowly lightening it so that I would not be a shock to me and a
discouragement for me to ever leave the house.

     I mean it was not like I was a real woman. Acquaintances
were not going to come up to me and say they loved my new hair. I
was not going to have any help gaining public confidence so her
plan was to take it slow. I felt that it was working.

     I checked the time and found barely an hour left.

     Time to get moving. I stepped into a short black chiffon
skirt. I loved it. It had arrived only last week in the mail
(mail order is the only way for me to surprise Sally.) I had
tried it on quickly when it arrived and it was lucsious.

     Next the metallic gold blouse with princess neckline and
keyhole closure in back. It draped my D silicones to perfection.
I was ready to kiss myself. I fastened the self belt with its
gold buckle and slipped into my black 3 1/2 inch pumps.

     The heels matching the length of my feet. I happily wore 5
inch heels on occasion but where Sally wore 3 inch for formal
occasions, 3 1/2 inch was about in proportion for me.

     And then the big breath in the full length mirror. I could
eat me up. I was lovely. I twirled and watch my skirt flare out.
I moved quickly to watch it swish around my hips.

     I was a match for the model in the catalog ... well almost.
:) If I could just lose about a third of my body mass including
bone structure ... ah, some things are not meant to be.

     Last little touches.  perfume in all the right places
including under each ear where she loved to nibble my lobes. And
some long dangling earings to get her attention to them. What
else?

     Ah yes, a thin gold slave chain on my left ankle, one of
Sally's most treasured gifts to me. It contrasted so well against
the black nylon. A sparkling cocktail ring, a gift to myself, on
my right hand, the hand that would move the most as I was right
handed.

     The evening was wonderful if I do say so myself. I had
dinner set to be ready right after we shared cocktails, chilled
gin with the vermouth cork passed over it lightly and a short
incantation. And, I may add, my careful control of amount of
alcohol per male and female intoxication levels so we were about
equal.

     Sally was wearing her burgundy business suit when she
arrived home but when she took off her jacket and adjusted her
blouse and freshened up she again showed me how much I had to
learn. Suddenly it was as though she had dressed for dinner. Her
blouse was loose and open. I was happy for my full skirt as it
would not allow the nether parts of me to ruin my image.

     I was attentive. I asked after her day. When she said
something I found curious, I remembered to open my eyes widely
instead of narrowing them and wrinkling my forehead. So many
mannerisms were becoming second nature to me. They seemed to go
so naturally with my new lifestyle.

     I timed my drinking to hers so we were finished together. It
was another way of following her. I gladly refilled our drinks.
She made me so happy letting me be a good wife to her.

     Sexually it was even more fun. I had practiced (and
remembered) how to show the slip lace and to almost give the
panty-peak. My legs crossed casually but not quite open enough to
see my panties but just enough to have to adjust my skirt over my
slip. I regularly drew her eyes to my crossing legs, legs agleam
with the sheerest black nylons and a hope of a glimpse of my
pantied crotch.

     When I walked I turned quickly so my full skirt swirled out
and showed the lace hem of my narrow slip. I had practiced in the
mirror and learned it would not work with a slip with a full cut
skirt. It appeared the only use for the full skirted slip was to
avoid it being seen.

     Dinner I hoped was lovely. I did my best. Candlelit, the
best set table I could do. I tried to be "sparkling." I had an
obvious objective, that she not remember what she ate that night,
only that it was good. That she remembered only me.

     I took every opportunity to get up and serve something new.
That drew her attention to the sounds of my skirt and stockings,
to spread my perfume around her, to let her see my long legs
accentuated by my gait in my heels, to give her another glimpse
of my slip. And the heels did draw her attention to my ankles and
that slave bracelet that I loved so.

     Of course I reserved the right to hold not remembering the
particulars of the meal over her -- I had slaved so :). Sauce for
the gander is sauce for the goose. She loved that too. I was
helping make her my man, my husband, as much as she was helping
make me her woman, his wife.

     Some day, some day soon I hoped, we would have that wedding
ceremony I had dreamed over so many years. I was already mentally
planning my gown and trouseau. My eyes misted with love then as I
gazed into her eyes.

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