Eve Quest

I laughed, still in the grip of her delicate hand. “Let me buy your dinner and I’ll promise to come up with something better.” I said.

“I’ve eaten.” She said and handed me a card. “Call my cell tomorrow and we’ll see.”

Her card said she was the president of Cumberland Investments.

Our courtship lasted only ninety days. I learned she had an MBA and had parlayed a six-figure income with one of the Wall Street firms into a brokerage company of her own. She and her parents didn’t speak and mine were dead so we weren’t likely to have any in-law problems. She was adamant that she wanted no children, but she was a sexual machine with a voracious appetite. I, on the other hand, had limited sexual experience. My first time was with a neighborhood girl when I was fourteen. She was seventeen. We gyrated around with her on top and I ejaculated. What a thrill. My second experience was with a gay friend in college. I didn’t tell Sheila about the later experience, but it was obvious I was sexually inexperienced.

We were married in a civil service and honeymooned in Hawaii for a month. We returned home and settled into a comfortable routine. An outside observer might have called it normal and but, for those occasions when I dressed up in women’s clothes, it might have been.

I’ve been “dressing-up” since childhood and I never told Sheila. Like most transvestites, sneaking around to dress just added to the excitement. I shopped the Internet for hours before selecting the perfect items and had them shipped to my secret post office box. There was a small hidden room off the garage I had converted into a closet and dressing room.

This normal life was to change completely one afternoon about ten months after we married. I arrived home after work, threw my keys on a table in the foyer and walked into the den. It was a beautiful; richly appointed room with dark paneling, honey oak flooring and Turkish rugs.