"What was it you wanted to talk about?"
It was a Friday evening, warm, still and silent, and Sam and Sally were sitting together on a bench in the park. The green grass twitched as the breeze played over the slumbering blades; a dog's bark echoed, unnaturally loud in the still air, from some unseen quadrant of the park. It was late, well past one in the morning, and some hidden observer might well wonder what manner of mischief the two young adults were up to at such an hour.
Yet Sam was oblivious to all of this. He was currently preoccupied with the fact that his mouth had suddenly gone as dry as if he had stuffed it full of a half kilogram of salted crackers, causing an irritating tickle at the back of his throat that made him feel like coughing. Clearing his throat and trying to disguise his difficulty, he scuffed at the ground with the toe of a shoe while he rehearsed what he wanted to say in his mind.
Sally looked on patiently, a bemused smile on her face. Sally was one of the most understanding people he had ever met, and their shared love of fun and sense of humour had brought them closer in the past three years than he had felt to... well, anyone. Which, he reflected, was why he had decided to confide to her this evening something he had never revealed to anybody else, ever. Psyching himself up, knowing this was a line he couldn't just cross back over, yet supremely confident that Sally would neither shun or deride him for what he was about to tell her, he replied.
"Back in high school..." he began, but his dry throat betrayed him and his voice cut off with a croak. Determined to just get it out and over with, he cleared his throat and ploughed on, undeterred. "Back in high school, I went through something that my parents thought was a phase." An ambiguous beginning; Sally raised an
eyebrow, prompting him to continue.
"I... I had this period where I... well, where I would dress up in women's clothing." He clenched his eyes shut as he said this, mortally embarrassed. Even though he had spent the whole week mentally preparing himself for this, it was still an incredibly hard thing to admit. He'd even sent Sally a text message earlier that afternoon intimating that he had something really important he wanted to discuss, in an effort to prevent himself from chickening out at the last moment.
Afraid of her reaction, he steeled himself and opened his eyes, glancing tentatively at Sally. To his great relief, she didn't display the horror, shock or amusement that he'd so feared. Rather, her face remained relatively impassive, though interested. Emboldened, he continued.
"I persisted for a couple of weeks, but it was clear that my family thought it was too weird, and I let it go after not very long. In a way, I think they would have been more supportive if I'd confessed to liking men. Isn't that funny?" he said, wryly. "For some reason, this was just too weird for them."
"I guess they'd have had a reason," Sally piped in. "Maybe if you liked men and dressing up in women's clothing, it would be a shock, but they could at least explain it." He was again grateful to her for taking part in the discussion, rather than sitting silently and potentially judging him. She made going on easy.
"They thought it was a phase, and I never mentioned anything about it to them, or anyone, again. But.... you know, it wasn't a phase. It's something I still do. I dress up in women's clothing, and I can't help myself. It's a compulsion." Sally nodded, thoughtful.
"Why?" she asked, simply.
"It's sort of hard to explain," he said, "but then again, it's not really such a mystery. There's something about it that's just so nice, so warm, so comforting, I guess. Girl's clothing has so many more texture, fabrics, designs, everything! It's like, men's clothing is so limited with its styles, and its usually so muted and dull. Girls get dresses, and skirts, and beautiful designs on everything, and pretty colours, and frills! Lace!" He paused, acutely embarrassed at how carried away he'd gotten. Sally regarded him with a full smile now, and he embraced her from the side, trying to hide his blushing face. Sally stroked his hair, making him feel like a little boy.
"Huh," she replied, "I always thought the opposite. I've always been jealous that men get to wear suits and vests and ties. It's kind of like we always want what we don't have."
"It's ok for you!" Sam said, a little bitterly, sitting upright again and hugging his knees to his chest. "Girls dressing up as guys is fine. People might be a little surprised, but they'll just keep walking on, it's not that strange. But the moment a guy wants to dress up as a girl, oh no! No, no no no, he must like men, he's weird, don't go near the scary creepy guy, children, there's something wrong with him. I'm so sick of it!"
His voice, raised more than he had intended, echoed over the expanse of the park like a thunder-crack, and he lapsed into silence, annoyed at himself for being annoyed at society.
They sat like that for a quiet while, Sam trying to calm his breathing, Sally looking contemplative. The dog's bark reached them again, fainter than before, and Sam wondered who would be out walking their pet at such a late hour. Then again, he could hardly talk, seeing as how he was on a bench discussing his secret fascination with women's clothing with his best friend; what he was up to was a lot stranger, to be sure. Sally was the first to break the silence.
"I'm honoured that you trust me enough to tell me this, but you don't seem very happy. Why, I think you'd be jumping for joy right now if what you've told me is true." Sam looked up, confused.
"Happy? Why would I be happy? I've kept this to myself for years, and all I get is this horrible sense of guilt and shame dressing up in private. What's there to be happy about?" Sally grinned, a wicked little grin.
"Now you have someone to dress up with, of course!" she exclaimed. "Think of how much more fun it will be!" Startled, he stared at her, his heart hammering. He'd hoped that she would accept him for what he was, but he'd hardly dared believe that she would actually be keen to participate and help him with what he viewed as his shameful obsession. His emotions flipped and fluttered, as possibilities flashed through his mind.
Guitar and board games and hanging out, dressed up in a pretty frock, or a soft, velvety skirt. Shopping for high heels, make-up, all those things he'd never summoned up the courage to go and purchase himself, terrified of the glances and judging stares of passers-by and shop attendants. And lingerie shops! He felt faint as he imagined strolling into a lingerie shop, Sally by his side, able at last to look at and feel and indulge in those forbidden delicates that he had never dared even glance at for too long. And to consider purchasing those frilly underthings, those lacy nightgowns for himself! A thrill ran through him, and he shivered, unable to help himself.
"Yeah..." he said, slowly. "That would be... be... oh, Sally! I just can't..." he trailed off, overwhelmed. Sally just kept grinning at him, that wicked, impish grin.
"I even have some ideas of my own for you," she said, mischievously. "This is going to be the greatest summer ever." He wrapped his arms around her and buried his head in her side, whispering:
"The greatest summer..."
----- CHAPTER 2 -----
The next day, Sam woke up early, despite having arrived home after
2 am the previous night; end-of-semester exams were looming and he
couldn't afford the luxury of sleeping in. He and Sally had said
their goodbyes, promising to meet up again soon, a promise that
caused Sam's stomach to churn with nervous excitement just
remembering it. Would Sally want to act right away on what they'd
discussed last night, or would they just hang out like they normally
did, lazing about one or the other's houses or having a cheap meal
out, his revealed secret a comfortable haze in the back of their
minds?
Sam yawned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, reluctant to get up
but unable to ignore the unquiet call of exam notes yet to be
written. As he went to get dressed, reaching automatically for a
pair of boxers, as he did every morning, he paused, struck by a
sudden thought. Hesitating, he stared down at his open underwear
drawer, filled with dull blues and reds and greys, an unexpected buzz
of anticipation coating his skin in goosebumps. Sliding the drawer
shut, he slowly sat back down on his bed as his heart hammered
erratically at his ribcage.
Scarcely able to believe what he was doing, he closed his eyes and
leaned over, thrusting one gangly arm beneath his bed. His questing
fingers inched deeper and deeper into the darkness below until they
touched against something soft and smooth, something that made a
barely audible whisper as his fingertips brushed fleetingly against
it. Bunching it up in his hand, nearly shivering at the thought of
what he now grasped, Sam slowly drew his arm out again, eyes opening
to behold the precious, secret thing.
There, in his hand, was a pair of yellow, silken panties.
Mesmerized, he stared at the forbidden garment, fragmented
half-thoughts tumbling through his mind but failing to find purchase.
The pleasure he felt beholding them, clutching them, was not the the over-eager, damp imaginings of a hormone-mad teenager, and it was
quite distinct from the involuntary quickening he experienced when the girl he fancied flashed him a smile. Instead, he was filled from the
inside out with a sort of tingly, sleepy warmth that made him want to
wriggle with delight. His face adopted an abstract grin as he sat
there, absent-mindedly stroking the panties with one thumb in a
rhythmic back-and-forth motion.
Time passed.
Sam returned to himself with a snap. Feeling a little bit
confused, he blinked rapidly, trying to clear the fog from his head.
There was something he had needed to do, something really important,
but he couldn't quite...
"Oh no!" he groaned, glancing at the clock, which now
read 8.22. The library had opened at 8, and he'd promised himself
he'd get there right on the dot to plunge into the intimidating mass
of lecture notes and textbooks that were heaped, as-yet untouched, on
his desk. He stood up sharply, then stopped, remembering the silken
panties still clutched in his hand.
Normally, he would never even consider wearing them out in public - despite the fact that the chance of discovery was next to
nothing, hidden as they would be beneath his pants - but today, today of all days he felt an inexplicable urge to just slip them on, consequences be
damned. Sam was a bit taken aback by the force of the desire, for
he'd never experienced such a strong compulsion before. Something had
changed within him since his conversation with Sally the previous
night, that much was certain, but he didn't have time to worry about
it right at the moment. Sure he would come to regret not having
sorted it out immediately, Sam shucked off his pyjamas and slid the
yellow panties up the length of his legs, studiously ignoring the
feelings they stirred within him as he did so. Throwing on a t-shirt
and a pair of jeans, he dumped his textbooks in his satchel bag and
left the house, snagging some fruit from the bowl in the kitchen on his way out.
Half an hour later found Sam hunched over a desk on the quiet
study floor of the university library, a veritable warzone of books,
notes, pens and apple cores strewn across the desk's surface. Despite
his tardiness, he had arrived just in time to nab one of the
much-coveted quiet-study desks, narrowly avoiding the rush. Even now,
solitary students drifted through the area like tumbleweeds,
predatory stares directed at their seated fellows as if ready to
challenge them for possession. Their aggressive swoops towards vacant
desks were cut short only by the presence of open laptops that
indicated the previous occupant had just stepped out to grab a
coffee, and would be back momentarily, if you don't mind.
It was, Sam reflected, an awful lot like finding parking at a
shopping mall on a Saturday afternoon.
Sam smiled to himself. He loved working in this section of the
library, its enforced silence disturbed only by an occasional
murmured exchange between two friends. He wasn't one of those people
who could work with loud music or irregular conversation in the
background, and he relished the perfect study environment this
section offered. Feeling in the zone and ready to work, Sam rolled
his neck and dove headlong into his notes.
About an hour and a half later, he surfaced, unsettled. Something
was amiss. Concentration had always been a strong suit of Sam's,
allowing him to work for hours on end with laser-like focus, but
today it was letting him down. He glanced around, discomfited, trying
to pinpoint the source of his unease. What could be causing... Ah!
He shifted in his seat and felt the luxurious caress of the silken
panties against his skin, sending a little thrill through him. He
shifted again, experimentally, and this time in addition to the
thrill he imagined that he could hear an almost imperceptible swish
as they slid smoothly across
the seat of his jeans. Paranoid, he glanced left and right, trying to
gauge whether his neighbours had heard the illicit sound and were
even now wondering why the guy beside them was wearing women's
panties, but they hadn't budged.
Aware that he was over-reacting,
Sam nonetheless cursed himself inwardly for his foolishness. It had
been a mistake to wear them outside! What had he been thinking?
People were bound to notice! Surely it was only a matter of time. He
moved again and this time the feeling was more intense, and he had to
tense up to suppress an involuntary shudder. Angry at himself,
ashamed at his feelings, he launched himself back into his work,
scribbling with a vengeance.
But it was no good.
Excruciatingly aware
now of the effect that the panties were having on him, he couldn't
help but notice the rushing, tingling sensation that shot through him
in reaction to the tiniest shift in position. Completely unable to
focus, he finally abandoned the attempt and
flipped open his laptop cover, seeking distraction, something to take
his mind off the terrible, embarrassing, wonderful feelings flowing through him.
His hand strayed to Facebook.
Sam scrolled through his
news-feed desultorily for a time, but soon grew bored with its
rather monotonous content. He signed into chat speculatively
(something of a rarity for him - he generally hated the fact that he
couldn't adequately convey tone purely with text) and was about to
close the tab altogether when he noticed that Sally was online.
Knowing that her exams were likewise just around the corner, he
opened up the chat box and typed:
"Hey! Aren't you meant to be
working? What're you
doing wasting your time on FB?"
He hit Enter and sat back,
engaging in that most desperate of activities: staring at the chat
box while waiting for a reply. As the seconds passed though, his grin
faded to be replaced by a frown as sudden doubt assailed his mind.
Sure, Sally had seemed cool with everything last night, but who knew
what she really thought? She could easily have just been faking her
enthusiasm in order to extricate herself from the situation as
quickly as possible.
Yes, that was it, Sam thought,
convinced. There was no way she could have responded like that and
meant it. It had been too easy, too fast. She wasn't replying because
she didn't want to talk to him, the weirdo who liked women's
clothing. Probably she didn't ever want to see him again. Feeling
utterly depressed, he went to close the tab, vowing to never log on
again to face the judgement
of the empty box. He was on
the verge of hitting the lonely little 'x' in the corner when Sally
replied.
"Hey!" she said. He
pulled his hand back from the mouse
as if burned.
Sally is typing... read
the box.
He waited for the rest of her response with his heart in his mouth,
wondering what she was going to say. Would she denounce him? Tell him
how pathetic and strange she thought he was? Would she act like
nothing had happened last night and never bring up what they'd talked
about ever again?
"I
am working :P just taking a break right now. How bout you, Mr. Study
Animal?"
Sam blinked, nonplussed by her totally ordinary
response. Rubbing his randomly sweaty palms on his jeans, he typed
hesitantly.
"I'm in the library! I was
just having trouble focusing."
"Trouble focusing? You? As
if!" He could imagine the exaggerated face she was pulling right
at that moment, could hear the sarcastic disbelief in her voice as
she did so. Oddly, it made him feel better.
"Yes, me! Why is that so
hard to believe?"
"Say it isn't so! The
legendary Sam, falling asleep on the job? What, are they having a
live rock concert in there?"
"No >
< " he replied,
petulantly.
"What then?" she
persisted. He went to type something, brush her off, then stopped,
seized by the same kind of reckless urge that had taken hold of him
this morning. There was an easy way to test here and now what
Sally really thought. Dare he? Normally, he would never contemplate
it, but...
"The panties I'm wearing
keep slipping around and distracting me," he sent, after
glancing nervously around and hunching forward in an effort to
obscure his screen from any would-be voyeurs. There was a pause, then
the excited reply.
"What?? NO WAY! Sam, that's
awweeessoooomeeeeee!" Once again, he was surprised by Sally's
response, and more than a little bit relieved. Emboldened, he
continued.
"Yeah! I've never even worn
them out of the house before! After talking to you last night, I've
just had these crazy feels."
"I'm so proud of you! And
amazed. Didn't you say you hadn't talked to anyone
about this
before? Now here you are strutting it out in public!"
"Not quite," he said. Then,
with a strange twisty feeling, he added, "But you're different
Sally. You're special. I feel like I can tell you everything. You're important to me." Unexpected emotion welled up inside him at this, and
he blinked back rebellious tears, wondering where they'd come from.
No way was he going to start sobbing in the library.
"I feel lucky that you trust
me that much. Sam, we're going to have so much fun once exams are
over!"
"And you're ok with it? You
know, everything?" He already knew the answer but he needed to
hear it again.
"Of course I am. And
besides," she added, and once again an image of her grinning
mischievously came to his mind, "I think it's rather cute.
Anyway, I'll talk to you later! My eggs
are burning oh god I hope my
house isn't on fire." And with this somewhat
dubious farewell,
she was gone.
Sam sat, slightly stunned,
staring at her parting words.
"And besides, I think it's
rather cute." He wondered what that might mean for the future,
and pictures of pale pink skirts, long painted nails and fluffy,
frothy petticoats danced across his vision. He closed his eyes,
indulging in the images for several moments more, before opening them
again, feeling happy and contented. He bent back over his books,
impatient for the future but knowing he had to get through these
exams to get there.
The yellow panties tickled him as he shifted slightly in his chair, and he smiled just a little as he continued to write.
