After getting married early in my 20’s, these urges to experience wearing women’s clothes only became more intense. After years of living w/male roommates, I was all of a sudden sharing a dresser and a closet more than half full with feminine things. I will never forget my apprehension as I confessed to my then young wife my desire to wear her panties. She didn’t understand this, but allowed it as part of our foreplay, obviously noting the powerful affect on me. Over the years I tried to push this further, resulting in many tearful exchanges, and eventually her acceptance of my wearing panties most every day, even surprising me on some special occasions with new panties, and taking me with her when she shopped for lingerie or other clothes, her knowing how I loved it. Although her acceptance of part of this desire of mine was wonderful, the dream to be fully dressed was never gone. I had told her of this desire more than once, but even though our friendship was strong, she was clear that she could not accept this.

So although my desire remained strong, I did my best to suppress it. At the same time, I seemed unable not to notice women’s clothing, often wondering to myself, “What would it feel like to wear that?” or “Wow! That would be so fun to wear!” When shopping for male clothing for myself, I would always walk through the women’s section of department stores, or linger outside the display windows in the mall. I felt compelled to page through women’s clothing catalogues that came to our home, and I always looked through the ads for women’s clothing in the Sunday paper. Although I knew there were other men like me, and I had spent time in college looking up whatever I could find in the university library on crossdressing, transvestites, and issues of gender identity, I continued to feel isolated and guilty about these desires until after the internet became available. As I found more information about men “like me,” I made a conscious decision to stop trying to figure out “why” I had these desires, and to work at acceptance of myself. Perhaps 5 years ago, I found the Emerald Fantasy website.

I was fascinated with the possibility. But I live a long way from Seattle, and I didn’t know when I could get there alone. Not traveling for business generally, most trips I took were with my wife. I found myself dreaming, literally, of planning a trip with her help to spend a few days as a woman. At the same time I knew that would never take place. She had been clear that she wanted no part of anything like that. I would guess that I logged on to Angel’s website once every 3-4 months wondering if the Emerald Fantasy was still there, reading and rereading the stories of transformation, dreaming, wishing. Finally the opportunity came up for a trip to Seattle on my own. I contacted Angel by e-mail, wanting to be sure that if I took the trip that I could also experience the transformation that I had dreamed of for now more than 30 years. Angel responded and in the 3 months between booking the trip and actually arriving in Seattle, we exchanged several e-mails, mostly her reassuring me that everything would work out fine.

So you can imagine the anticipation that I felt the morning I got on the plane, 2 time zones away, knowing that by that afternoon, I finally would be at the Emerald Fantasy, and that by mid-afternoon, my dream would be a reality. I think that possibly was the longest 3-hour flight I ever took. And in the weeks preceding the trip, I went to bed each night thinking of what was ahead, and I woke up each morning thinking of what it would be like. I experimented with shaving a section of my leg hair to see how long it would take to grow back, and found that it took nearly two months. So I knew that I would have to forego that indulgence. Every chance I got I was dressing in panties, bra, and stockings. I bought a pair of two-inch pumps at a Famous Footwear on sale for $10.99, and practiced walking in them. I squeezed myself into the only skirts my wife had with elasticized waists. I filled baggies with water and used them as makeshift breast forms. I couldn’t wait to experience the transformation!!!

Everything went perfect that day. I got to my hotel in time to shower, put on panties under my male clothes, shave, and gather the stockings and girdle I was bringing with me. My heart started racing as I got in the cab outside the hotel, the cab driver making small talk about Seattle sports teams during the 10 minute drive to the Emerald Fantasy. I had wanted to tell the world that day, I had wanted to announce to everyone that I was finally going to experience being Nancy. I was, for the first time, going to have makeup applied, be able to wear women’s clothing other than lingerie, that actually fit me. Finally the cab stopped in front of the address Angel had given me. One deep breath and I opened the door. I was right on time. Across the lobby of the office building a woman came towards me, extending her hand, “I’m Angel.” “Hi Angel, I’m Nancy.” How wonderful it felt to say that. I had never ever introduced myself to anyone as Nancy. Immediately I knew she accepted me, and that she understood as she responded, “Hi Nancy, nice to finally meet you after all of our e-mails.” I was immediately comfortable as she brought me into the transformation salon. I was on sensory overload as I sat on the couch chatting with her about my flight, etc. She sat in a salon chair in front of a table covered with bottles of makeup, brushes, nail polish, all of those things that fascinated me, but I knew so little about. There was a multi-shelf cabinet with various wigs, and a couple racks of clothes. Then she asked me to show her what I had brought, and within 10 minutes we had started what was perhaps (excepting the birth of my children) the most satisfying six-plus hours of my life.

She directed me to the dresser drawer to select any panties that I wanted to try on, and then she handed me a selection of bras that she thought might fit. “Try on as many as you’d like,” she told me. After trying on several panties, I selected a silky silver-colored pair, and I began to experience that unexplainable feeling that I had felt as a young teenager when I first put on a pair of panties. Angel directed me to the boxes containing breast forms, and I, for the first time in my life, had breast forms filling out my bra. I tried on several bras until I found one that felt just right. Angel told me that it made my breasts look “perky,” so I knew it was right. I took my first of many long looks in the full length mirror, loving the full breasts, but quite aware that I still looked like a man wearing a bra and panties. I selected a pair of nude thigh highs I had brought, and after I put them on Angel directed me to sit in the makeup chair. I was going to become Nancy, I remember thinking.

This was a first for me. Sure I had clumsily played with makeup on my own at times, but I had given up trying this years ago because I never ended up with a satisfying image. She started with some stage makeup for beard cover-up, then swabbed several colors of foundation on my forehead to find just the right color. She explained what she was doing as she went, and continually reassured me how pretty I was becoming. After blending in the foundation and applying just the right amount of blush, she applied powder to set the makeup, then started on my eyes. Eyeliner, upper and lower. Then eye shadow, then mascara upper and lower. All of these were firsts for me. I asked about my eyebrows, and she explained that we would leave them alone and that we would select a wig with bangs. Then my lips, lip liner followed by a pink lipstick, telling me that she avoids red for going out because we didn’t want the makeup to be too dramatic, nothing to call undo attention. Finally she was done with the makeup, and Angel selected a brunette wig to begin the first of five I wore that afternoon. She clipped gold loop earrings on my ears to complete the look. I looked at myself long and closely in the mirror. I couldn’t believe it! The image I saw staring back at me was Nancy!

“Now let’s have you try on some clothes,” Angel told me. “You can try on whatever you want, and we’ll set aside the outfit that will work best for going out later.” I had told her in e-mails that I was really unsure about going out, that I wanted to, but that I was apprehensive. She proceeded as though we were going to go out, and by the time we were done trying on outfits, I was feeling so good about how I looked that I wanted to go out. She brought in a pile of skirts from another room while I took a minute to pull on my girdle and get my male equipment tightly tucked away. (Later when she showed me around I realized that she had another entire room jam-packed with racks of clothes.) I went through the stack of skirts, choosing skirts of varying lengths, fabrics, colors, prints, and styles. My hands were trembling. I wanted to try on everything!

Angel suggested that I start with a black mini-skirt, telling me that she liked to start out her girls in a mini-skirt. She matched this with a tight-fitting top of white lace, then had me go through a box of shoes in my size (I selected one-inch black pumps). Out to the hallway for a picture, but not until after I had taken another long look in the mirror. The transformation was complete. I was the woman I always wanted to be!

She then took me on a tour of the facility, explaining that she shared the space with a crossdressing club, showing me the studios that some of the members rented to use for dressing, and showing me their club room with lockers and living room furniture upstairs. We sat in the club room and chatted. She asked me how I felt. I couldn’t stop smiling. Then back downstairs where I tried on the other skirts, and many tops, sweater tops that accented my breasts, silky blouses that felt sooo feminine. We selected what I would wear out, and set that skirt and top aside. I told her that I had always wanted to try on dresses, that I had never worn a dress. Angel brought to the room full of racks of dresses, directed me to my size, and told me to pick out whatever I wanted to try on. I tried on a short, dark purple, sparkly party dress that fit me wonderfully, and merited another picture. We took 9 pictures in all at the studio, as I told her that I wanted to save the last of the Polaroid’s for going out.

I can not explain how I felt during this at least 2 hours of trying on multiple outfits, snapping pictures of the ones we liked best, trying on 5 different wigs until we agreed on which one suited Nancy the best. Looking back, I believe that I probably was in an altered state of consciousness during this. After trying on each new outfit and wig, I looked myself over approvingly in the mirror. Angel was fun to be with, like we were two girlfriends deciding what to wear to a party. She was so patient with me, trying on different things, messing up my hair while pulling off tops, helping me adjust the skirts and dresses. She caught on to the type of clothes I like best, and seemed to keep finding me more to try.

Then she had me get back into the outfit we had selected for going out, a knee length knit black skirt, and a blue and black checked top. She clasped a gold necklace around my neck, and told me that it was time to do my nails. I had her pick the color, a shade of pink (like with the lipstick, she again told me that although red is fun, that we did not want to call too much attention to my hands.) I had not trimmed my nails for about 3 weeks so they extended nearly a quarter inch past the tips of my fingers. I had done a lot of hiding of my hands in the days before my trip, worried that someone would notice, but now that indulgence was worth it. I loved the feeling of the polish being applied, and I loved the look! Since Angel applied two coats, then did her own nails, we had to wait for them to dry, and we sat and talked like two girlfriends while our nails dried. I felt so wonderful, and so comfortable that I shared more with her about myself than I had thought that I would. We talked about the “spectrum” of crossdressing, and Angel suggested that these desires had likely influenced many of my life choices. I realized that she was probably right.

“Okay, pick out a purse. We’re going shopping,” she told me. I chose new earrings, having somehow lost one of the hoop earrings during all of the changes of tops and wigs. She handed me a compact and a lipstick, I put my wallet in the purse, she handed me a sweater jacket, and we were off. I will never forget first stepping outside the building as Nancy. The feeling of the cool evening air on my legs (by now I was wearing black thigh highs over my nude thigh highs and they combined to hide all of my leg hair), the feeling of the long hair against my neck and the bangs blowing in the slight breeze, carrying a purse over my shoulder, and the ever-present sensation of my breasts. We walked the few steps to her vehicle, and we were on our way. I half expected people to look at me from passing cars and point and honk, but no one seemed to notice that Nancy was out for her first time. We pulled into a shopping mall parking lot, and my heart rate began to accelerate. I told Angel that I was getting nervous, but she reassured me that it would be fun. We snapped the last picture in the parking lot with the J.C. Penney sign in the background. As we walked to the entrance, I could hardly breathe. Once inside I followed Angel through the store as she made her way towards the Women’s section. Almost everyone we passed did not give either of us a second look. A couple younger guys looked me straight in the eye, and I knew they knew, but nothing was said. My heart rate started returning to normal. I was loving every minute of it. We looked through racks of clothes, Angel gathered several outfits (I thought she was shopping for the Emerald Fantasy, silly me), then told me to follow her—straight to the women’s dressing rooms. She hung several items in one room, ushering me in, and took the others into the dressing room next door to try on herself (guess she thought no sense Nancy having all the fun).

I couldn’t believe it. Here I was, totally made up as a woman, now in a women’s dressing room in a department store in a mall. This was beyond even what I had dreamed. Angel knocked on the door to see me in the various outfits. We chose a gold silky blouse with a matching gold camisole on sale for—get this--$4.97. One for Nancy, one of the same for the salon. I passed on the opportunity to check out, letting Angel do this, my most anxious moments coming while we were standing in line as other people gathered behind us. We had gone through a good deal of time already, and still had to get dinner, so we scooted out of the store without a stop at the lingerie or stockings departments. Oh well, next time.

Back in the car I felt like I had just pulled one over on the world. We had been in the store at least 30 minutes, if not more. I had tried on blouses and skirts. I had walked as femininely as I could, being aware of pushing out my breasts, and wiggling my butt just a bit. One of things I like the most was the click of my heels as I walked through the store on the tile aisles, such a feminine sound I’ve always thought. I loved it! Had we planned more time I think now that I would have risked going out of the Penney’s store to the mall proper, but that will have to wait for another time.

Well, one adventure left. A restaurant. I started getting nervous all over again. But I felt confident being with Angel. She told me that she had selected that department store due to the ease of using the dressing rooms, so I figured that she would similarly thoughtfully select the restaurant. We went to a Thai restaurant where the young Asian waitress did not bat an eye as I ordered a glass of wine in my obvious male voice. We sat in a booth with tall backs. No one seemed to notice us, and I had the experience of being there as Nancy. We chatted about our lives. I think that we truly enjoyed each other’s company.

Way too soon it was time to go back to the salon and change back. That was a let-down. The entire experience had been like the roller coaster car just going up, to greater and greater heights. Changing and cleaning off the makeup was a sudden, fast drop down. Angel graciously dropped me back off at my hotel. I wanted to tell the world what I had just experienced. I wanted to be Nancy some more. I was so happy that I had finally experienced it. It was everything I had dreamed of, and more. I wouldn’t change a minute of the experience. I am left with only one regret—that my wife did not share this powerful experience with me. I had shared it with Angel, who I will never forget, but I regret that I truly believe that it must remain a secret not to be shared with anyone else.