It started out as a typical kind of day for this self-employed crossdresser. Or should I say crossdressing contractor? My wife was going to be out for the morning. She is quick to offer advice whether I want it or not. Do you know the feeling? As the day went on I was sitting there working on a near-due report, dressed in one of my most recent purchases from Value Village the Canadian equivalent of Goodwill. A few days earlier I had visited the store and picked out some finds I could not turn down β A Joseph Ribcoff mid-calf length casual dress and a thin-strap sun dress, brown with large white polka dots with the designer label removed by the previous owner.
But I digress. Pretty well as soon as my wife had left for the morning I had applied a little make-up, put on the summer dress, figured out how to use some two-sided tape to keep the dress straps in place over my bra straps and got busy doing the housework. No leggings and baggy tees for them. Having done the dishes, made the bed and tidied up the bedroom, living room and kitchen I had just made myself a cup of tea and sat down to go through the latest emails and check the on-line news then finally got to that report when I heard the door opening.
No panic; my wife is used to coming home to see Linda at work or sitting there relaxing. I see you have been busy. I owe you. Now, believe it or not I do not own a cell phone.
I rarely need it anyway, preferring to do my business contacts by email and Skype. But I have to remember how I am dressed before accepting those Skype calls. Here is what had happened: her cell phone had rung while she was driving. She let it go to voice mail and then found a good spot to pull over to listen to the message. She had expected it was one of her children or perhaps a golf friend.
Who was Fiona? I thought the name was familiar. How had she got that number? After maybe several years what did she want with Linda? The Fiona a fabricated name of a fabricated name I remembered would be someone I met several years ago.
