Roar by Cecelia Ahern

Author:Cecelia Ahern [Cecelia Ahern]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2018-08-30T16:00:00+00:00

She’d heard about men doing it, knew very well that sometimes it was part of a costume, sometimes for sexual gratification, sometimes because they didn’t completely identify with the male gender, and other times because they were actually female but born in male bodies. Some felt themselves between male and female and so were bi-gendered, having both male and female sides to their soul. She knew all of this because she’d heard stories from women with husbands who liked wearing their panties, women whose sons were now daughters, a woman whose husband liked to go out one night a week as his feminine alter ego. She’d of course known about it all on a vague materialistic level, but then she’d researched it further. For herself.

She was a woman, not a man; she was born a woman, felt like a woman, dressed like a woman, felt sexy as a woman while wearing women’s clothes, felt sexier as a woman with no clothes at all just in her own skin. And yet.

She had an overwhelming desire to slip her feet into her husband’s shoes.

It wasn’t a casual yearning, it was a heart-pounding, head-thumping desire that felt so powerful that it alarmed her. It felt so strong that she knew it was wrong. And as soon as she felt it, she saw his shoes everywhere. They were all over the house, deserted wherever he had kicked them off. Dirty sweaty trainers by the door after his run, polished brogues underneath the table where he kicked them off during dinner after a long day at work, tartan slippers by the leather couch from when he’d put his feet up. It would have been easy at any stage to slip her feet in, even when he was looking. It would have been easy to walk around, make a joke of it; he wouldn’t care, no one would. But she didn’t want to make a joke of it. She wanted to wear those shoes for real. It felt like a big deal, not a casual joke, it felt like something she would rather do in private. She had a longing to wear her husband’s shoes, not because she liked the style, or the fabric, or the shape or the size. She wanted to know what it would feel like to be him, to literally walk around in his shoes.

She had never felt so frightened by a desire, or embarrassed, or so repulsed by herself.

But it was difficult to find the time to steal away and for this she was thankful. She wanted to hide from her longings. She worked, he worked, children, food, life, sleep. Days were filled, there was no room for secrecy, you couldn’t go to the toilet without open doors and wandering bodies. But burying this secret desire only caused it to intensify. Like a volcano over time, this hot impulsive passion built and built.

They were watching television, binge-watching their favourite show, one episode after another, both exhausted and sleep-deprived but needing to

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