A few weeks ago my wife remarked on how "the gals" hadn't had a night out in months and suggested that we should perhaps go out later that evening.
"What! Yeah, sure! What's brought that on?" It wasn't like Judy hadn't been around, on the contrary, she'd been around twice last week.
I'm one of those cross-dressers whose wife gladly shares her wardrobe. And Samantha's the kind of wife that guys with my quirky habit can only dream of. We've been out together as a couple of girls on countless occasions, so her suggestion that we went on this night wasn't at all unusual.
"Great! We'll have a laugh." Sam then proceeded to delve into one of the bags from her morning's shopping spree. "Here! I bought you a couple of things."
She slid a small polythene bag across the kitchen table. It contained a small plastic box of glossy pink false fingernails and a pack of false eyelashes.
"Cheers, babe!" I was delighted with my new accessories and couldn't wait to get ready for my night. We both sat down at the table, sipped our coffees and planned our evening's sortie.
"Why don't we go out on the 'Girl's Road' to the service station and on the way back, stop in at that place we always pass and always say that we'll pop in there one night?"
The 'Girls Road' was the name we gave to the road I had used for years. In the olden days, before Sam entered my life, my cross-dressing was my secret. I'd leave the house in drab and change in a particular lay-by on the Girls Road. It meanders through a small village with a quaint whitewashed inn, that we always said we'd visit.
"Whatcha gonna wear?"
I'd already envisaged myself in at least half a dozen outfits by the time Sam asked her question.
"Dunno haven't thought about it yet."
"May I suggest classy sexy?"
"Classy, sexy, it is then!"
A few hours later two classy and sexy ladies were ready to step out into the dusky evening. Samantha looked stunning in a little black lace sleeved Lipsy dress, that showed her assets to the max.
"Wow! Look at you!" My admiration was genuine.
Sam gave me a twirl and almost came off her four-inch heels. "Oops!"
Evidently, she had consumed a few glasses of Rioja while preparing for her evening out.
"Careful, we're not out the door yet."
She steadied herself and gave me the once-over. "And look at you! Look at those fucking legs!"
If I may say so myself my legs are quite stunning and are definitely my best asset. As a result, I like to show them off, maybe a bit much for a lady of my years.
"Too short?" I looked down towards my hem.
Samantha coughed, "No... Well, maybe a bit... Fuck, they're always too short!"
My legs are what gets me noticed, I am in no doubt. But then if I catch anyone staring at me, I wonder if they're thinking, 'that's a bloke in a frock!' And my skirt for this evening was black, leather, and short. Under my short leather jacket, I wore a leopard print blouse with matching print three-inch heel shoes. My choice of wig for my jaunt with Samantha was blonde, fringed and shoulder length. My pink nails matched my pink lippy and all in all I was happy with my look.
The drive down the "Girls Road" was relaxed and safe. Sam's choice of music was appropriate.
Funny I can't stand Sade when in drab, but when I'm en-femme I think she's fabulous. Samantha is convinced that my cross-dressing is more to do with a split personality. And that's why I'm so good at it.
I'd positioned the rear view mirror so that every approaching vehicle would light up my face with their headlights. Sam had been engaged in texting on her phone when she caught me admiring my reflection and shook her head.
"You really would fuck yourself, wouldn't you."
"Yes, I would."
The Coach House Inn was located in a small village and was known locally for good pub grub. By our estimation the dinner service would be over and therefore, should be fairly quiet. It became obvious that we had picked a good night for a quiet drink, as there was just one lone car, parked in a far corner. I applied a touch up to my lips and checked for any pink staining on my teeth. I gave my hair a brush before getting out of the car. Samantha was already waiting patiently by a back entrance, as I walked up to join her.
"Honestly babe, you look fab." She must have thought I needed a confidence boost.
"No, I'm good!" I whispered quietly. "You know the drill."
The drill depended on how busy the bar area was. If I felt an anxiety attack coming on I would head for a quiet and dimly lit table, while Sam got the drinks in. If I felt comfortable on entry, then I would stand behind my "girlfriend" as she ordered the drinks.
Happy days! The bar's occupants consisted of a lonely gent dressed casually but smart and judging by the back of his head, appeared to be in his late fifties, maybe early sixties. There was an elderly couple seated at a corner table, but no sign of a bar person.
As we approached the bar, the lone gent turned his head.
"Well hello!" His eyes popped out like a Warner Bros. cartoon character. "Good evening, laaaydees."
Sam beamed a smile that threatened to brighten up the dim ambience of the room, while I hung back, much more reserved.
"Hi!" Sam wasn't quite as shy.
"Landlord's out back having a ciggy."
"That's OK, we're in no hurry." Sam turned to face me. "Landlord's out back having a ciggy."
I wanted to burst out laughing at the face she was pulling. I nodded and smiled.
"Go grab a table and I'll bring the drinks over." I immediately obeyed Sam's instruction and found a table in a dimly lit cosy alcove.
The landlord returned and was dispensing our drinks as a door opened in a far off corner.
'Get the fuck out of here!' I almost said it out loud.
"Hey, you! Fancy meeting you here!" It was Paul Collins. "Paul fucking Collins!"
OK. Where do I start with Paul Collins? I could write a book on the Collins family alone and perhaps someday I will.
Paul and Sue Collins are two of our closest and trusted friends. They have been aware of my crossdressing since I "came out" to them twenty-plus years ago. Since then we have enjoyed several nights out on the town when Paul has escorted his three bitches into some of the city's pubs and clubs. Our four-way relationship has developed over the years to a point where we have all slept together. Judy has tasted Paul's cum on a couple of occasions as it oozed out Sam's cunt. But that's for another story.
"Hey! What are you doing here?" My wife asked as Paul laid a couple of smackers on both her cheeks.
"I'm having a pint with my mate Ross here. This is his local."
Ross was the geezer at the bar and before we came in he had been enjoying a pint with our mutual friend. Paul had gone to the Gents' toilet just prior to our entrance.
I watched as Sam was introduced to Ross, who couldn't wait to slap a couple of kisses on my wife's cheeks. "So who you with?"
Uh oh! Here we go.
"Judy!" Sam looked over in my direction.
I smiled my best Princess Diana coy smile and gave a little wave over the table. Paul's grin showed more teeth than a Ferrari gearbox as he let go of the grip around my wife's waist.
"Judy! How the hell are you?" He fired a wink outwith Ross's view and approached my table. He bent down and plonked two kisses on either of my cheeks. "You smell divine, darling." He whispered in my ear.
"Fuck off," I whispered back in his ear. His sudden laugh was deafening.
"Would you mind if Ross and I joined you?" Paul addressed his self-invite to Sam, who was about to pay for our drinks.