LETTERS
by Bea
Gentle Reader: This little fantasy is for male, hetero, transvestites who are not into stories containing graphic sex or violence. It is a decided no-no for anyone under eighteen years of age....
Dear Mrs. Johnson:
I have come across some correspondence that substantiates a theory I have pertaining to the disappearance of your nephew, Roger Matson. I feel that once you have read it - and my closing comments at the back of this package, you may come to the same conclusion.
The correspondence is confidential in nature and I was at some legal risk in even making these copies .... You will note that I have copied only the portions of the letters that I think pertinent to the investigation, but I would still formally request that this whole package be destroyed after you have read it.
If you wish me to continue the investigation, I will of course be only too glad to do so. The daily rate would stay the same. Until I receive such instruction from you, however, I will consider my participation in this matter closed. My itemized bill will follow within two weeks if I have not heard from you.
Sincerely:
Elizabeth Boles, Private Investigator.
. . . Jan 6th, 95
Dear Moira:
Gosh! It was lovely seeing you after such a long dry spell. I am truly sorry about how things turned out. I know that Roger behaved abominably. He didn't start coming around until he was in the car driving home - but was ranting and raving about you and Lisa's life style for some time even then. I'm so glad he never discovered about our thing at school. (To tell you the truth, I think you were more of a man at eighteen than he is now).
It was very nice meeting Lisa - I'd run into old Angela while I was shopping one day. She mentioned you had a new heart throb and that she was very pretty. I must admit I was jealous for a while - at least until I met her. She's pretty and nice - an unusual combination these days. I think you two are made for each other.
X x x x and I think you'd better keep in touch with me via the office. I'd hate to have to listen to any more of Roger's tantrums about you if he knew we still maintained contact. (I know there are such things as telephones, but writing letters seems so much more civilized - plus, it makes me think about what I'm saying!) - But got to rush off, the lord and master will be coming home pretty soon, and I better get this letter out of sight and dinner going.
Love to both of you
Irene
. . .
Feb 1st
Dear Moira: x x x x your suggestion about Roger? You didn't really mean it, did you? I had a good laugh to myself. I mean, there is some logic in the idea that Roger "protesteth too much" when faced with .. ahem ... 'Alternative Life Styles' but I have the feeling that you are pulling my leg. ( If you weren't kidding though, I've got to say that, though I think you're somewhat out of your mind, it did hit a chord in me - I would like to give him a good whack now and then. I am really getting fed up with some of his macho nonsense!). X x x
. . .
Feb 4th
Dear Moira: Yes. I know that it's not my turn to write, but I just had to tell you - I did try out one of your ideas - and damned if there isn't the possibility that you may have been right after all.
The other night we were engaged in what could be described (loosely) as sexual union, Roger on top puffing and panting, trying to show passion etc. - And not with much success I may add. As for me, I was lying there, bored out of my mind, but also trying to project 'some' idea of excited response. (If I don't 'participate', he usually fails miserably). It's not that I care about so much - it's the whining and excuses from him afterwards.
Anyway. At one point, I finally thought 'aw the hell with it' and stopped pretending. Grabbed him, rolled him off me, then took over the top position. He actually struggled. This I found to be great fun - I'd never realized just how weak he is. After I had him pinned to the bed, I started kissing him pretty hard. He ended up just lying there, all docile - but with the biggest erection I've ever seen him have. I - ahem! - took advantage of it, and we both enjoyed what followed.
Love - and thanks for the idea!
Irene
. . .
Feb 16th
Dear Moira: x x x but on to the subject that's making me think a lot. I'm still amazed at how accurate your guess was as to Roger's true disposition. I've taken to just walking up to him, putting my arms around him without warning, then kissing him - my tongue really deep in his mouth, and my hands caressing his ass.
He gets all flustered - but not then. Afterwards only. When I am kissing him, he puts his arms around my neck, makes little noises, and just hangs on - and know what's amazing? He reminds me exactly of how I used to be when you kissed me! (I can't swear to it, but I'm pretty sure that one time he actually bent one of his legs at the knee - the way the female leads used to act in the movies?)
You know, all my life I've considered myself a fairly womanly woman - you know - look up to the 'man of the house', make his dinners, iron his clothes. I never, ever, considered myself masculine in any way. But something in what I'm doing to him is kinda enjoyable - it's like having power. The only thing is, I keep expecting him to fight back - and I don't really have that much confidence in this new found 'power' of mine if he does.
I'll fill you in on new developments as they happen. But tell me. How's Lisa? Did she... X x x but, before I forget, thanks for the new suggestions. Can't see me ever using them. I am starting to see a kinda sissy side to Roger that I've never noticed before ... But, I can't see him being that docile.
Love and kisses
Irene
. . .
March 1st, 95
Dear Moira:
I can't believe it! I'm actually sitting writing this - while Roger is doing the bloody dishes! - In one of my frilliest aprons! Not only that, it's the third night in a row that he's done this! Is it possible? Can it be that I can get out of doing dishes forever? I get the strangest feeling that it's all a dream - sooner or later I'm going to wake up - or he is. I just can't see him putting up with my behavior for much longer.
It's been so easy. On Monday night, I was in the kitchen washing up - he was sitting watching TV. I just got fed up. Went and got one of those fancy aprons that his mother keeps giving me - that I've never used. Walked right up to where he was sitting in the easy chair.
"Roger?" I said. "Would you stand up please?" He mumbled something, his eyes on the TV screen, but stood up. (I should add that even this was a surprise - I mean, I was pretty bossy when I said it.) I couldn't figure why he wouldn't look me in the eye, but think now that he saw the apron in my hands - and had a damn good idea of what I was going to do - just didn't know how to stop me!
He jumped when I put it over his head - but only for a second. I thought 'Aw shit Irene, you've finally done it'. But no, he just sort of stood there while I tied a big puffy bow at the back. "About your turn for the dishes." I said, giving him a little pat on the ass - and that was that! Like a little lamb, he flits into the kitchen, and I had the rest of the evening off.
Then last night. Scared that I was pressing my luck, I told him that it was still his turn - then went and got his apron for him. Other than that - I didn't have to say a single word. He looked at me kind of sheepish. I just put on a stern look and twitched my eyebrow... He put the apron on himself, without any help from me, and practically ran into the kitchen.
Later, I had another little giggle. He'd tied the bow at the back like a rats nest - all higgledy piggledy. I called him over and chastised him (but gently - like you'd do with a new maid) "That bow will never do, dear. Let me show you how to make a pretty one" And my 'husband' stood practicing how to make pretty bows for his aprons until I was satisfied - he even blushed when I praised him about how quickly he'd learned.
And tonight? Guess what? Without one single solitary word or gesture from me? - Here's the bold Roger in a fresh apron - with an absolutely beautiful bow at the back - he blushed again when I complimented him on how pretty it was. (Actually, just before I kissed him, I said that he looked pretty, but he pretended not to hear me).
I keep getting guilty feelings about what I'm doing to the poor dear. At the same time though, I'm getting rid of a lot of frustration that's built up over the last few years. Did you know that until now I've actually had to hide how much money I earn? As I started catching up to him financially, he started having conniptions - and I felt that it just wasn't worth the trouble - that masculine pride can be a real pain in the ass. We're now fairly well off - not at your level of decadent wealth of course - but reasonable. And I can't enjoy it because my stupid husband can't accept the fact that I make far more money in my job than he does in that little clerk's job he has .. So I have to pretend to be struggling to protect his tender little ego! X x x x sorry I raved on about Roger for so long, but you're the only person I can really confide in. I'm still having thoughts that he's got to see that it's nothing but a big con job I'm pulling on him. If he'd just stand up to me, I'd probably collapse! But the temptations! My god! How I hate housework! - And he seems so willing to do what he's told!
But I'm off before I start having orgasms at the thought of sloughing it all off on to him.
Love and kisses
Irene
. . .
March 23rd
Dear Moira: Well. So much for my conscience. And I was wrong. Roger and I did have a showdown - and guess who won?
Within the last few weeks, he's become the best little housewife you could possibly imagine. Cooks, washes - dishes and clothes (hand rinses my undies, with a light touch of the iron) dusts, vacuums, makes the beds - name a womanly task in a house - and he does it. Not only that - a fresh apron every day. Following an idea, I bought him one of these little flimsy 'hostess' ones. He made such a groan when he unwrapped it - groaned even more when I had him wear it that evening when his mother came over - that was a laugh - but more on that later.
I looked at the draft of my last letter to you. Really, I was telling the truth - I think. Every time I've got him to do some 'womanly' thing, I've expected him to lash out - and honestly, I think I've been really wanting him to stand up for himself - but bossing him around more and more just to get the whole damn thing over and done with. At the same time, I have to admit enjoying some of the mean things I'm doing to him - maybe I'm a closet sadist?
But he won't do anything! I've even started making comments about his masculinity - or lack of it. For example? One afternoon we went down to the tennis club. Not too many people there, hardly any men at all. But we got a match with a couple of the girls there - don't think you know them.
We didn't have too bad a match, but lost. Roger's not bad usually, but he did have a bad game. I was furious (I seem to be getting very competitive as I get older) with him. As we changed sides I whispered to him that if he kept playing like a girl I'd put him in a tennis dress the next time we played there. Naturally, the poor dear played like a ninny for the rest of the match. (I did apologize later - but the thing is, my husband let me threaten to put him in a woman's dress - didn't seem to feel that I couldn't! See what I mean?)
Another thing - hilarious! I've got him sitting down to pee! One night, I went into one of the bathrooms and saw the seat and cover standing up - you know, the way that men leave it? For fun, I called him in there, and lectured the hell out of him - sweetly of course, pointing out how untidy it was, the chances of 'spray' showing on the ceramic, how more sanitary it was for someone to sit down.. He was shocked. "You want me to pee sitting down. Like a woman?" He said indignantly. "Anything wrong with that?" I growled. And the poor little thing backed down (or should I say "sat down").
Looking back, that evening with his mother had to be me asking for a hit up alongside the head. I know you've met Dora, but don't know how well you communicated. She really is a sweet lady - a girl at fifty-four, if you know what I mean. Kinda dithery, but sweet.
Anyway, I knew she was coming because I'd invited her. As I mentioned, I'd bought Roger this sweet little hostess apron - you know the type. Gauzy, puffy, ties for a huge bow in back.. Orchids, butterflies embroidered into the skirt. I guess that I felt it was time to 'press' things a little, you know what I mean?
Well, getting back to him opening my little present. From one lesson or another, he's learning to 'appreciate' the 'nice' things I do. After a little 'persuasion' on my part, he showed delight with it - after all, it was the first woman's thing I'd bought just for him! Just had to try it on. Just had to swear that he loved it - would wear it all that night to show how much he really liked it.
I 'thought' I'd told him his mother was coming - could have made a mistake - I'll admit it - but wouldn't let him out of his promise. He ended up crying (real tears for Chris'sake) - but he wore it to answer the door when his mother arrived.
And Dora loved it! I couldn't believe it. Here's her son dressed in a cute little woman's apron, serving drinks then dinner - then cleaning up after - kinda fluttery and feminine. Believe it or not - she even went and helped him clean up! Wore one of his other frilly aprons! The two of them were like two yattering girls in there.
But he finally revolted! Finally! And the silly bitch (should use S.O.B) picked the evening his mother was there - and waited until after he'd done the goddam dishes! (Why do I have the suspicion now that he wanted the humiliation that was to follow?)
I'm sitting there, enjoying my evening brandy when he comes mincing in to the room, Dora trailing behind him looking worried, obviously trying to stop him from doing something. I thought "Well, it's been a good run. Time to pay the piper".
And he starts off, real important. "I've got something to say!" I don't know what got into me. "Yes Rhonda?" His mouth dropped open. It was the first time I'd ever referred to him (openly) with a girl's name. I kept up the pressure. "I'll hear what you have to say. But before you begin? Would you go to the chest of drawers in our bedroom. In the top, right hand drawer, you'll find a pair of pink, lacy satin panties. Please go and get them, then bring them here, would you? I'm not being too unreasonable? Not asking too much I trust?"
I was treating the man like a maid - in front of his mother! He was puzzled I think, by my attack and looking for some kind of support - but she was of no help to him. He turned to her, and she just shrugged, indicating that he should do as I said! And my poor husband in his swishy little apron went and pulled the panties from my lingerie drawer - one of the pairs I'd been saving for him!
When he brought them back to me, I took them from him. "Thank you Rhonda. You had something you wanted to say?" I'll say this much. He tried. "You're treating me like.. like .. and I'm tired of it.." "Like a woman?" I asked gently. "Yes! And it's got to stop!" (Dora looked even more uncertain). "But that's what I'm trying to do." I said "I'm only treating you like that to make you remember that you are a man!" He was really confused. "Eh?"
"I make you do all the housework to make you remember that you were a man when you married me - and to act accordingly - but it doesn't seem to be working, does it?" Still confused, he shook his head. "I have you wear all these pretty aprons that your mother bought for me - and you still don't remember to act like you should - you make the beds, cook the meals, do the washing and ironing - right? And guess what?" I added. "After you're finished here? My white silk blouse with the long sleeves? It needs some of the buttons secured, they're starting to loosen - Dora can show you how. You won't mind, will you Dora?" Dora smiled her assent readily. "Oooh! No problem at all Irene!" She said.
Thoroughly confused, he tried to find words. "But.. but.. I am your husband for goodness sake! - And husbands don't.." I took the panties he'd brought. Hooked my fingers in the waistband. Stretched them out in front of him. "I'm sorry Rhonda" I interrupted "but if nothing else I do seems to remind you that you're a man - I'm afraid I'll have to go to the next step. Would you take your pants off? Come here? "
He looked at me, total helplessness in his eyes. "You'd better do as she says Rhonda" his mother said. "My name's Roger." He wailed. "I am trying to act like a man.. Why do you think I'm doing this, talking like this, just now..?" "Rhonda?" I interrupted. "You are acting like a man - but an argumentative one - you're being all defensive when you should be more confident. You have so obviously forgotten what real men act like." I sighed dramatically. I'll just need to do something else. So hurry up and do what I tell you!" And, to my surprise, a few seconds later, he came to me. Except for the apron and his underpants, he was nude from the waist down. As he stood in front of me, I reached up under the skirt of the apron and pulled his shorts down for him to step out of. Then I held the panties out for him to step into, then pulled them up into position. Last, in front of Dora, I gently pulled him over my knee.
As I spanked him I looked at the expression on her face. (He was squalling and weeping, but he was easy to control. I know I didn't raise any blisters - but I got rid of some of that frustration I talked about.) Her expression was hard to read. The feeling I got? Her 'daughter' had rebelled - and was getting spanked by her 'husband' - serve her right too!
Then, I had a stroke of genius. I kept him face down over my knee, and proceeded to explain what I was doing - giving him little tiny pats on his panties, sometimes little caresses, as I spoke.
"You just don't seem to understand, Roger. I'm trying to make a man out of you." "But I am.." He started. I gave him a sharper pat on his rear "Don't interrupt dear! Yes. Of course you are a man - but it's the bad masculine traits you have. You're argumentative and bossy. Won't listen to anyone. You're impatient. Want your own way all the time...." "That's true!" Dora pipes up. I could have died laughing. Here, I've got a man wearing pink lacy panties and a pretty apron. He's over my knees - I've just finished giving him an old fashioned spanking - and I'm lecturing him about being too masculine?
"See!" I said. "Even your mother sees it!" Caressed his soft little bum, feeling his growing erection against my knees. Continued "So. I think you should wear panties for a while - maybe the feel of them will remind you that you're a man!" (Have you ever heard such total bull?) "Oh please Irene - no!" He squeaked. "And that's another thing." I said sternly.. "Sometimes you sound like a little sissy - almost like a woman. So if you're going to act like that it makes sense to treat you like one, doesn't it?"
"But.. but.. That doesn't make sense." He started. "There's no logic.." His mother made a sharp inhalation of breath and shook her head. I gave him a sharp spank. "See? You're getting all masculine and logical again. Keep this up, and I'll have to put you in a dress!" (I look over at my mother in law. She's nodding in agreement!)
Then I went back over the whole rigmarole again, basically re-enforcing everything I'd just invented. If he got too 'masculine' I'd dress him in women's clothes, and expect him to act in a feminine manner to counteract these tendencies. If he got to be too much of a sissy though - why then I'd dress him like a woman - and treat him like one, to make him try to be more of a man! He ended up apologizing, saying he'd try harder to please me. Then I let him up, tell him to put on a pair of my pants (pink) from my closet and he goes off with his mother. From that point on, he takes over the job of making all the minor repairs to my clothes and lingerie.
I've done what you suggested - just took the power role over. He obviously didn't want it, so stepped aside. It's truly amazing to me. I don't really know what I'm doing, but simply because I act confident, my husband - and his mother - seem to think I'm goddam omnipotent! Truthfully, I can see why women have been downtrodden for so long - we expected it, and accepted it! I pat him on the ass and tell him what a great job he's doing when he does something that's normally considered in the feminine domain. I scowl at him for the slightest indication of masculinity. Guess what? Do you think he's getting more masculine? Not!
But anyway. Got to go as there's a meeting with my boss tonight. Write soon. Love to Lisa.
Love and kisses
Irene
. . .
April 10, 95
Dear Moira: Just a short note to say thanks for the invite - and don't bother about the short notice - your 'ladies club' fancy dress ball is getting quite a reputation - and we'll be there with bells on. Thanks for the offer to provide the costumes - I especially liked your ideas, for me - but why do I get the feeling that you have something special in mind for my little hubby- wubby?
I think he senses there's something going on - but he's Rhonda more than Roger these days - and as they both do what I tell them, it really doesn't matter what either of them think. But you'll see when we get there. Bye for now.
Love and kisses
Irene
. . .
April 29, 95
Dear Moira and Lisa:
My god! No wonder your parties get the reputation! I've never been to a bash like that before! Thanks and thanks again. You Moira, of course, for hostessing such a wonderful evening - but especially for introducing me to Barbara. She's so pretty and feminine - and you were right, there is a definite mutual attraction there - and she probably told you, we have a date set for next week - I'm going to a business meeting on the coast and asked her to join me for the week-end. Going to have Rhonda's mother in to keep him company while I'm gone.
And many, many, thanks to you Lisa for taking Rhonda off my hands. How you got him.. her.. into that Dresden shepherdess outfit, I'll never know. He raised some tears at you plucking all of his eyebrows - but you should have seen the expression on his face when I told him how lucky he was to be the only 'man' invited. It was also nice of you to lend him the dress to come home in. It was funny, he was so scared that some of the girls he'd sat with that night would find out his 'true' sex that he practically begged me to borrow your dress for him - even while I'm really riding him for being such a sissy!. (He must still think he's a man!) Anyway, I've had the dress cleaned, and it's in the mail.
When we got home that night, I got him to another plateau.
I had bought this beautiful nightgown and peignoir set. Teal silk and chiffon with a scoop neckline front and back. Big puffy sleeves. Loose fitting around the waist. Multi layered skirt down to the ankles. (Quite a change from the cottons I've been wearing for a while).
Anyway. I put the nightgown on, and started wafting around in front of him. He was so confused! Here he is, still in his bra and panties and, at the same time, here was his 'mistress' modeling for him! I climbed onto the bed beside him, took him in my arms, started kissing him. Got on top. As usual, he just started settling in, but I made him slide down the bed aways before I got on top and straddled him. Raised the hem of the gown.
"Kiss my tummy" I said. He did. "Kiss my breasts, bring both of your hands up and caress them as well". As he did that, I put the hem of the nightgown over his head. His upper body, arms included was now totally inside my nightgown. "Stroke my underarms." I told him "Both arms." Naturally, to do this, he had to put his hands up through the sleeve openings. "Kiss my throat" I said. Now his head was through the neckline. "Stay there dearie" I told him. "Don't move!" - And I slid my way out of the gown, leaving him in it. Now he was lying under me, wearing a pretty nightgown, still with a padded bra and panties on underneath.
He made some funny little mewling noises when I put on the bedside lamp, so that I could see to apply some perfume and lipstick, but once I put the light out he became my docile little wife again.
You know? I must admit to a new level of enjoyment making love to someone who feels so soft and desirable - powdered and perfumed, in flounces, frills and furbelows, silks, satins and laces, who caters so submissively to my demands. (I must be getting more and more into this masculine role - I'm truly wondering how Barbara will feel?).
But I'll keep in touch.
Love and kisses
Irene
. . .
May 30, 95
Dear Moira and Lisa: It's been quite a while since I wrote last, but there's been a lot of changes since then. I got a nice promotion, Rhonda's now at home full time -with his mother to keep her company, and Barbara's been my constant companion for a spell - and I just wish I'd known what I was missing all these years!
I didn't want to mention it in my last letter, but had thought I was in line for a promo after that meeting I mentioned. I actually got it before, so went away a lot higher mucky muck than I expected. Had a wonderful time with Barbara. She's so sweet and loving, just a perfect companion for an evening after a hard day at the office - we were very compatible! She's turned out to be not quite so docile as Rhonda - but I enjoy the democracy - only taking Rhonda to bed when i'm feeling pretty damn bloody minded!
But when I got back, there'd been trouble between Rhonda and his mother! I get home to find him all teary eyed, Dora all defensive. She'd spanked him! I couldn't believe it. Here's this sweet, dithery woman, probably never raised a hand to anyone in her life - and spanking my husband? And it turns out - she did it because he pee'd standing up! "Not just because of that," she explained. "It was the fact that when I told him not to do it again? - He just laughed at me. Said he'd do it any time he wanted! I told him you'd left me in charge. He just laughed again. Said for me to tell you... that I was just a dopey old woman! He didn't laugh when I spanked him though.."
"How did you get him over your knees?" I asked. "Sissy's always think they're stronger than they are," she retorted.. But he's just a weak sister. I've seen you spank him, so I knew that I could do it.." "Thank you Dora." I said. Turned to him. "Is what she said true?"
He scrambled verbally, but finally admitted that it was, fundamentally, true. "Very well," I said. "You want to go to the bathroom like a man? Then I'll make it easier for you. Come on with me.." And I took him to our bedroom. When we came back down, I explained to his mother. "I put him in a blouse and skirt. This way, if he needs to do the bathroom standing up, he won't have to fumble around with zippers and stuff, can just lift his skirt and pull his panties down.. I've got him in heels, just because I felt like it."
His mother was nice. "See Rhonda? Told you that some day she'd put you in a skirt. Get rid of your nasty 'man' habits." She turned to me. How long should we make him wear it?" "Maybe a week or two?" I suggested. "What do you think?" "Oh please, Irene," he whimpered "I'm sorry. I won't do it again. I promise!" "I don't care," I said "I'm just curious?" "About what?" He asked, suspicion all over his face. "Which bathroom are you going to use at work? The ladies or the gents?"
Dora giggled at the expression on his face as he realized what I was saying. She laughed even more at his final attempt to save his masculinity. The fool actually attacked me. Here am I, in a pant suit. Him in a floral dirndl skirt, white frilly blouse - high heels that he could barely walk in. It was so easy. He was so absolutely inadequate to the task that I started laughing so hard that, if he'd have had any smarts, he could have taken advantage. At that point, however, he just gave up. Stood and cried.
I had Dora take him upstairs again. When he came down in his long dress, perfumed, hair up in curlers - courtesy of Dora, and made up. Then, I knew that my job was nearly done. We'd call his resignation into work the following day. I'd get his mother come live with us - she was more of an ally than I'd have ever expected. Just how to get Barbara accepted?
"One more lesson Rhonda?" I said.
He hung his head. "I keep thinking that you're doing very well in learning how to get back to being a real man.. But there's one thing left..?" He just stared at me, completely cowed. "Men are so possessive," I said "I mean, I marry you, but become part of your family by taking your name. I vow to obey you in the wedding ceremony (this is utter bullshit, but I didn't think he'd remember), and I'm your wife. Right?" I said it so confidently that he nodded in agreement.
"And you're so sure that your better than women, right?"
And this poor guy, thoroughly dominated by first me, then his mother is standing there, dolled up to the nines - and nodding agreement that he thinks he's better than me. "Well." I continue. "This is a tough one. I'll have to work on it for a while."
And the following day, I offer my solution. I'm going to bring a young, female, friend into the house. 'Pretend' that I'm in love with her - this to check out his 'possessiveness' - and he's going to have to serve her - to show that he doesn't consider himself 'superior' to her.
For once, Dora looks suspicious, but doesn't say anything. Rhonda is awestruck by my problem-solving capabilities. He's (I've got to start calling her she!) not too happy about having to go to the spare room (the maid's quarter's) but can see the logic in it - after all, if I'm bringing home a girlfriend, she's got to sleep 'somewhere' right? - And it's much better than me bringing home a 'male' companion to make him look bad, eh?
And so I bring my girlfriend into my house and into my bedroom. Introduce her to my 'husband', who's now blonde haired, made up - and in a black taffeta maid's dress.
And, believe it or not, Barbara takes him over completely - and his mother. Has him learning how to walk, talk, think like a maid. Even Dora likes it - because Barbara has him curtsey to her just like everyone else.
This morning, he comes into our bedroom. We're lying there, all tangled up in each other - Barbara's breast in my hand, her lipstick all over my face. "Rhonda?" Barbara says. "Yes Miss Barbara." He answers, dropping a deep curtsey. She turns to me. "I've never worn a dildo before. Is it difficult?" I shrugged. "Not really." Good!" She replied. "Show me how to put it on, would you? I think I'd like to play the man's part for once. Rhonda? Take your dress off please, come to bed. Lie here beside me."
And, thanks to you, I lay and watched my husband take the next step towards becoming a woman.
I'll write soon
love and kisses
Irene
. . .
CLOSING NOTES:
Mrs Johnson? I believe that the foul play you guessed at has not taken place. It seems more probable that he has been 'converted' into something different than you recollect - or expect.
You said yourself that in one of our early meetings that, when you visited Irene, you had suspicions that there was 'some' relationship between her and 'an attractive young lady'. You did not mention the maid who saw you into the meeting with Irene. I did see this young servant - blonde, and if I'm not mistaken, had the name of 'Rhonda'. To my mind, 'she' is your nephew - but whether he needs (or even wants) to be 'rescued' from his/ her current
Yours sincerely
Elizabeth Boles, Private Investigator.
THE END