I’m retired, single, in my mid 60’s, quarantined and I’m bored. I’ve been cross-dressing since I was 5 and would use crayons and colored pencils to ‘paint’ my nails. Cherry Popsicles were my lipstick. Over the years the qualities of my cosmetics and panties have improved vastly.

When the quarantine began over two months ago I vowed to dress 100% of the time as my alter ego feminine self. On the first day of sheltering in place I shaved my legs, shaped and painted all my nails. Since I wasn’t going anywhere it seemed like the perfect opportunity.

Over the weeks I used my laptop to order a sundress, a very cute jumper, a floral Jersey swing dress, Daisy Duke denim shorts with a three inch inseam, two push up bras, a pair of girly flip-flops and a few cosmetics. I have also ordered pizza and groceries. The pizza delivery boy calls me ‘Miss Johnson’.

I was beginning to crave physical human interaction which is a normal reaction to loneliness. What was not normal was that I was wondering what tactile human interaction with a man would be like. A person should not go to their grave with “I wish I would have…” on their mind. Maybe I was spending too much time in lingerie, makeup and sundresses and subconsciously wanted to experience more. Maybe it is an aging thing. I was baffled.

I needed a few quarantine survival essentials and had ordered supplies to be delivered to my house; a few groceries, a couple bottles of wine, Vodka, Sprite, limes, nail polish remover and panty shields.

It was early morning and, as usual, I was already wearing my bra, garter belt, stockings and French Cut silk panties under my pink satin pajamas and matching silk kimono. I had painted my nails, shaved my armpits and legs yesterday so I didn’t need to bother with that today. An 18 inch feminine gold chain with a hummingbird charm hung from my neck. My ears sported boring gold ear studs.

As I placed my order I thought it would be fun to wear a little more make-up and dressy earrings; two months of being quarantined at home can do that. My mind was beginning to get lost in my femme self and I was enthralled at the prospect of a visitor (the delivery man from my local market). I decided to femme up for the human interaction I would be having today. And just maybe I did it for myself too.

My facial makeup took no time at all and looked fine. I had decided on ‘Rose Wine’ lipstick until I remembered it would be covered by my anti-virus mask so I settled for a bit of color on my eyelids in addition to the lippy; I love the scent and taste. I spent time plucking my eyebrows into an acceptable arch. A sable brown eyebrow pencil completed the task.

Eyeliner: It’s something I don’t frequently use ever since I didn’t properly remove my all post dress-up eye makeup; two friends pointed out my need to do a better job. It was awkward for all of us. I vowed to be more discreet. Long lash mascara and an eyelash curler added to the feminine image I sought. The process of becoming femme makes me feel good.

I discovered I have too many pairs of earrings even for a woman, let alone for a man. Especially for a man whose only recent femme outings were to the backyard privacy deck and the driveway to get the newspaper, I held several earrings up to my ear to get a sense of what would look cutest. I had a momentary twinge of regret for not getting the double piercings I had vowed to get “someday”.

Eventually I selected a pair of diamond waterfall drop earrings. They were almost 5 inches long; they swayed and sparkled nicely. I liked the way they caressed my cheeks and neck. Better live it up. Who knew when I would be doing this ‘in public’ again?

I had a bit of trouble getting the earrings through my pierced ears. After a few attempts and a cuss word or two I had success! Two shimmering diamond waterfalls grazed the collar of my pink silk kimono.

To my credit, I replaced my kimono with snug floral lavender leggings. I felt nicely naughty as I pulled them over my stockings and garter belt. A trained eye could see the outline of my garter tabs and straps (and maybe my tucked boy-bits) showing through my form fitting leggings. That possibility and their snugness made me feel fashionably slutty.

I slipped my feet into a comfortable pair of black ballet flats. My top was a lace trimmed ivory camisole. My new push-up bra with my silicon inserts gave lift and definition where I wanted. I decided against wearing a cover-up top. I wanted to be seen by a man.

I put my long hair in a perky high ponytail and secured it with a colorful Scrunchie. I tied my girly pink anti-virus bandanna mask in place. My drop earrings rubbed gently against my cheeks every time I turned my head; a constant reminder of wearing earrings. My day was going well. I hoped the delivery man would notice something special about me even if it was only my earrings or garter tabs.

I had just applied a very restrained amount of my favorite musk perfume and was accessorizing my outfit with several bangle bracelets and disposable black gloves just as the doorbell rang. I left my protective gloves off as I wanted Mr. Delivery to appreciate my pretty and well shaped fingernails.

My video security door bell showed a handsome middle aged man wearing a company polo shirt with the store name and logo on it. He looked tall, fit and virile. I nervously giggled. My market items were in individual bags within a medium sized card board box. I opened the front door where a clear glass storm door protected me from direct contact with Mr. Delivery and cold weather. I stood tall and tried to emphasize my chest for him.

“Very nice, you’re here much sooner than I thought you would be.” We stared through the glass for a moment. Mr. Delivery not so subtly checked me out. In fact he stared. I don’t know what he keyed in on, earrings? pony tail? boy-bulge? garter tabs? He smiled. I know he smiled by the twinkle and gaze of his eyes. He took an extra step closer from the 6-foot social distancing mandate, held up my packages and said, “Send your husband out and I’ll hand these off to him.”

“I’m not married” I said. Sensing there was going to be another question from Mr. Delivery I too easily volunteered, “And I don’t have a roommate.” I was startled by my boldness. I had never flirted with a man before. It made my pulse race in anticipation.

Mr. Delivery asked, “Where would you like me to leave this miss?”

Not that he could tell but I was smiling broadly inwardly and outwardly. I felt a physical response beginning and my pulse rate increasing. “Here on the porch is fine.” I pointed a manicured finger at a small porch table. I looked for any hint of a wedding band beneath Mr. D’s tight fitting latex gloves. Happily for me he appeared to be ring free!

“OK,” he mumbled through his mask, placing my purchases on the table. He turned to leave and stopped. Turning to face me Mr. D said, “I notice that you have a few dead shrubs and a lot of leaves piled up at the base of your walkway. A person could trip. They should be removed.”

Encouraged I replied, “I’ve been meaning to tidy up the area for quite awhile.” My mouth felt dry.

After a short pause, as if he was thinking, he said, “My name is Rob. I could stop by and take care of that for you.”

“That’s very thoughtful Rob. I wouldn’t want to impose on you.” Warmness crossed my cheeks. I think I was blushing.

Rob replied, “Maybe you’re concerned about social distancing? You wouldn’t even need to come outside when I’m cleaning up… unless you wanted to.” Rob playfully offered. He took a business card from his wallet and wrote something on the back. He dropped the card into one of my shopping bags and said, “Here’s my phone number. Call if you need a little help sometime. I’m off work on Tuesdays and Wednesdays.”

“Thank you, Rob. Perhaps I will. These are very difficult times and we can all use a little help from time to time. You may call me Donna.” I found myself responding to Rob’s presence in subtle but physical ways. I was glad I was wearing a panty shield.

My brain and crotch were filled with the possibilities of being helped by Rob. Perhaps it was the prolonged quarantine but I found myself wanting to help Rob in ways I had never helped a man before. My ‘want’ was unexpected but oddly pleasant. My palms were becoming damp.

Rob pulled his anti-virus mask briefly down, glanced at where my boy-bulge was, flashed me a bright smile, and immediately put the mask back in place. He turned and left down the walkway. Before getting into his delivery van Rob looked back. I removed my mask, smiled and waved goodbye. He acknowledged my wave and drove away. I was glad he saw me wave goodbye.

I remained at the door savoring my feelings and my not so latent desires. I wondered and hoped that Rob left more than a phone number on his card.

Maybe I should have tried harder with my eyeliner.

To be continued?

Did Rob leave more than his phone number? Did Rob notice anything 'special' about Donna?