I was just entering my prearranged destination. It was 11 pm and just before I paid the admittance fee, I stopped to look at myself in the mirrored walls. Reflected before me was a sexy, if a little sluttish looking woman in her thirties.
The only discrepancy being that I was actually a 37-year-old man, happily married, here at the precise instruction of the woman I loved, and was married to. She had returned home a day early, from a trip to her sister’s place, in the country.
What she found as she walked in was her husband wearing her underwear and, fully made up to boot. She insisted that, if I wanted to remain married to her, I would agree to dress up for her, whenever and wherever she instructed me to.
I was flabbergasted and truly lost for words. I did not want to lose her but I knew she could be a vindictive cow, when she wanted. I agreed meekly to this arrangement.
This is why I am here. I am about to enter a transvestite club on the Earls Court Road, being fully ‘transformed’ into my female persona… Pippa.
In my hand, I hold a sheet of paper and, have instructions that I must show it to anyone that I speak to, once inside the club.