This is a work of FICTION for ADULTS only. Do NOT read this if you are under 18 or if you are not an adult according to the laws of your state or country. Do NOT read this if you are offended by fantasies involving sexually explicit material.

Comments welcome to bethjac@hotmail.com

 

That red dress started it....!                 by: Bethany Jacques

 

Caught - in the Ladies of all places, and by a policewoman....

Part 2

"Excuse me, er - miss. May I ask, have you any ID with you?"

Shit! Of course I had but it had my name, Benjamin, on it. Everything I had in my handbag, credit cards, driving licence, letters and so on, they all said ‘Benjamin’ on them. Well, I hadn’t envisaged getting into a situation when I would need to produce ‘feminine’ ID. I stuttered. I was playing for time. If I was going to get out of this the voice was going to have to be right. I spoke as calmly as I could.

"Er - yes, I think I have. One moment please." I moved to begin to open my handbag, then paused. Still playing for time, hoping maybe the ground would open up and swallow me, an earthquake maybe. I decided to in some sense go on the attack.

"Might I ask why, officer?" I tried to keep my voice quiet and gentle and controlled but I was worried that I would not get away with this, not for much longer.

"Well, we’ve just had a complaint. About a shoplifter. He dresses as a woman, he’s a transvestite. Someone thinks they saw a strange woman coming into here just a minute ago."

I had no choice. I didn’t really want to expose a fellow trannie, but if this guy was a shoplifter too, well, he / she deserved it. I didn’t say anything, just looked behind me at the closed cubicle door. In the silence we could both hear a shuffling in there. The policewoman leaned back to open the door behind her.

"Jim, in here please, the coast is clear, in there I think."

A policeman, in fact a very tall policeman, came into the Ladies. In his situation I think I would have maybe blushed with embarrassment but I realised he must be used to this sort of thing. Well, similar events anyway. And he rather surprised me. He didn’t think twice, if it had been a genuine woman in there he could have had all sorts of accusations against him. He just stood on tiptoe in front of the cubicle door and looked over.

"Right there, mate, come on out. No excuses, we’ve not got time to waste. Come on."

The cubicle door opened, I didn’t really get much of a look at the person in there, just a glimpse of the blue coat I had seen earlier and of a hand, a rather large hand, with a couple of rings on it. I was glad that my own hands were not very large for a man, and therefore were not an obstacle to my ‘passing’. The woman PC looked towards me.

"Sorry to bother you, but I had to be sure. We’ll see to him now thanks." She indicated the door behind me. I was curiously interested, I wanted to see what ‘she’ really looked like. But I knew better than to hang around. I smiled weakly and got out!

There was a small crowd gathered outside the loo, I realised that if the rumour had got round about a trannie shoplifter one or two people would be looking at me with that in mind. I looked the store manager, or whoever he was, he seemed to be in some way in charge at the front of the crowd, straight in the eye.

"It’s OK, they’ve got him" I said and looked towards the Ladies’ door.

Everyone looked that way - and I slipped out.

I abandoned the shopping expedition! That was enough for me! Later, as I stripped and took off my make-up back at the flat I had time to reflect. I had been a bit lucky, the police could easily have assumed there were two trannies working together in the store. On the other hand, with a woman, a police constable at that, a trained person, looking me up and down to try to work out whether I was a transvestite - I had fooled her. And even speaking to her she hadn’t suspected. I swelled up with pride, if I’d still had my bra on my boobs would have thrust out. I was good at this!

That thought gave me confidence, I eagerly looked for another opportunity to dress, to go out, to ‘be’ a woman again. Certainly shopping though to a different store of course. Maybe even to a pub. Or to a hotel. I could stay a night! I was keen to try something at least. But all the way through October and November, a dim foggy dismal November, Helen and Charlie resolutely stayed at home. OK they went out some evenings, but always just for a few hours, never more. Never for a weekend.

Just before Christmas, when I was wondering if I would ever get another chance. Charlie rang me. Very unusual, he rang me from home. From next door, well, from the house. I was in the flat. Asked if I could go round. I’d only actually been in the house two or three times, this was a little unusual. I had the impression t was something really important. I slipped a sweater on, it was a cold evening, and walked the five yards to his front door and rang the bell.

He answered, in his shirt sleeves.

"Come in, Ben, come in quickly, it’s cold out there."

I went into the warm and rather luxurious hall.

"Ben. Please, I need your advice. We’re going out to dinner tonight and Helen wants me to impress our host and his wife. You are a man with some taste. My wife doesn’t like this tie - tell me, it does go with this shirt, doesn’t it?"

For a moment I was just a little annoyed. I had been dragged from my little flat, OK, only five yards or so but on a cold night. And the work I had been doing had been disturbed, it was going to take me a while to get back into it. And all for a tie. I looked at Charlie, then I realised. He really did want to impress. He had a very attractive wife, I was sure she would look very nice indeed and he didn’t want to let her down. Then I looked at the tie.

OK, so I’m not the world’s snazziest dresser but even I could see - it just wouldn’t do. Contracting is one thing but clashing is quite another. Quite how Charlie had ever thought he would look good in that combination I don’t know. I was something of an expert here anyway, basic design governs clothes as well as many other items you come across in life. And this - well, the design of the tie itself let alone the shirt, it was just awful. But I didn’t say so. Not this time anyway.

"Actually Charlie I think your wife could be right. That combination - it just looks wrong"

He looked disappointed, then relented. "Thanks Ben, I’m glad I asked. Hang on, I’ll get the other one."

"It’s alright darling, I heard that. Here it is."

I turned to look at Helen as she came through from the lounge. She was carrying a tie. I think.

Because although I did notice that she was at least carrying something, my attention was not on any old tie she might have with her. I was just speechless. Such moments in life one remembers. In a brief moment a whole load of thoughts, ideas and fantasies flashed between my eyes, and I felt something stirring between my legs. I managed to control the urge to reach down, I just stood there - speechless. Helen looked gorgeous. Stupendous. Attractive, beautiful, sensational, all those. Fucking fantastic.

There are not many women you can say that about but in this case it was true. And there are not many women who can wear a simple, plain dress like the one she had on and look like sex personified. But she did. I looked.

Her hair was up, revealing such a gorgeous neck, I think she had maybe had her hair lightened. Just a little. A few wayward strands fell down towards her bare shoulders but these only added to the effect. Her make-up was gorgeous, how I envied her, wished I could do my eyes and my lips so well. The scarlet lips - well, eminently kissable, enough said.

But the dress! It was scarlet too. ‘Lady in Red’ briefly came to mind. But not tarty, not decorated, just simple but sensationally worn. The shoulders were bare, the sleeves were tight and began about 6 inches down her arm. Somehow the cut from there didn’t look odd, I might have thought it would. But the line of the dress swept tightly across her gorgeous chest and swooped down between her magnificent breasts. I really was speechless. My gaze descended to her trim waist, past the high hem of the dress, over the shapely legs in sheer red stockings (I was sure they were stockings!) And then to her exquisite high heels, yet again scarlet, with thin ankle straps and small silver buckles. I gasped, audibly.

Suddenly I was aware I might be causing embarrassment, for Helen and also for Charlie. She smiled at me sweetly, stretched her arms out and asked "Well Ben, what do you think?"

I couldn’t tell her! Even if her husband had not been there I wouldn’t have dared. I choked slightly and turned. Charlie hadn’t noticed my discomfort, he had been looking into the hall mirror as he changed his tie.

"Go on, Ben, what do you think? Isn’t she gorgeous?"

He was smiling, I was reassured, he didn’t feel threatened. Which of the words I had just thought of should I use to describe her? Not ‘fucking fantastic’, that’s for sure.

"She looks stupendous!" I said, looking at Charlie as I said it, not wanting to show my embarrassment. Then - I ‘gilded the lily’ - maybe I shouldn’t have done. "If I end up marrying a girl half so attractive, Charlie, I’ll think myself very lucky indeed."

Why I said that I don’t know. I looked at her, then at him, hoping he hadn’t been offended. It was Helen who spoke first. She walked towards me. Or rather glided, I wished I could walk in heels like that, and kissed me lightly on the cheek.

"Thank you Ben, and thanks for agreeing me about the tie. How’s that?"

She looked towards Charlie, I followed her gaze.

"That looks great, you both do." Was all I could say.

"OK honey" said Charlie. "We’d better be off. Hope we don’t disturb you when we come back, Ben, it may be late."

And then Helen surprised me. She squeezed my arm as we all went out of the door.

"We’ll be quiet, Ben. You never know, Charlie, what Ben might be up to while we’re out. Maybe he’s bringing a girl round. "

I think I blushed, anyway Charlie had the last word as we left and I turned to go round to my front door. "OK Ben we’ll be quiet. Just in case". I looked at him, he grinned widely.

I didn’t have a girl lined up. But my cock was incredibly aroused at the sight of Helen. I just couldn’t wait. No time to dress in the remains of the evening, I just got out my black silky panties, stripped, pulled them of, lay on my bed, and wanked while fantasising about Helen. Hard. Twice.

I had to get up and dress and put in a couple of hours more on my project but I washed the panties out and hung them to dry. I didn’t hear the two of them return. And having spent a little too long on that project that night I didn’t get up too early. It was about 11 am when I surfaced and dressed. I was just stepping out of the front door to get the milk in when I was greeted with the gorgeous sight of Helen tripping along the path towards me.

"Hi there sleepyhead."

I looked up at her, amazed that she could look so young and vibrant at that time in the morning. The mind-boggling red dress had gone, been replaced by a tight black sweater which didn’t show ant flesh at all but did outline her sensational figure, and tight jeans.

"Morning" I grunted, then cheered up as I briefly thought of the contents of that black sweater. Down boy, down, I thought to myself. "And what time did you get in then? I was up until nearly one, I didn’t hear you. Did you have a good time?"

"Great" she enthused. "The couple we were with are lovely people. And. Did I mention we wanted to invite them down to our cottage in March, when the weather gets better?"

I commented that I couldn’t remember her telling me about that. She just kept on smiling, it really was a pleasure to be in her company. A little cold breeze began to blow so I grabbed my milk and headed in, she followed me, she obviously had some good news to tell me about.

"Well, Jack and Claire, that’s the couple, they love Cornwall too, Claire said they would love to spend some time with us at the cottage. And they’ve invited us to go with them, they have a small villa near Nice. Should be warmer even at this time of year. So we’re going next weekend. The thing is, you remember Charlie asked you about house-sitting? Well, are you around then, and the following week. It’s the end of term then isn’t it? Are you going away maybe? To parents or to friends?"

Heck, no. I wasn’t. And for almost the whole term I had been living at a reduced rent n the understanding that I did help out in this way. I couldn’t turn her down, could I? I wasn’t thinking - I offered her a coffee while we sorted out the practicalities. She grabbed the milk and rushed into the kitchen. I didn’t realise my mistake, even when I glimpsed her returning almost immediately as I folded away my project stuff.

"Ben, you devil. Charlie was right!"

I looked up I must have blushed. She was carrying my skimpy black silk panties, and beaming widely.

"So who is she? I didn’t realise when Charlie mentioned it yesterday, I’ve never seen you bring any women round here. I must admit I was beginning to wonder about you, you know. After all you know what students are supposed to be like, drink and sex, sex and drink."

My immediate fear subsided. She had jumped to the obvious conclusion, not the real one. Well at least I had got away with that, I had left them hanging over a radiator in the kitchen to dry. I decided to shrug it off, to get onto another topic of conversation very quickly.

"Well, I do my share"

"Of which?" asked Helen.

I just grinned at her, again hoping for the subject to pass.

"So, when are you going? Loads of sunshine I hope, nice in December"

We chatted for a few minutes more, I was a little relieved when she left, I had to hurry a little to get into college in time, I had two students waiting for me. That evening Charlie came round, Helen had obviously told him about her discovery but he didn’t actually say anything about it. We sorted out when they were going, when I was going to be going in to water the house plants and so on, generally looking after things, picking up post from the doormat, that sort of thing.

It was then that the full implication hit me. They were going to be gone for five days. Lots and lots of chances to dress, I realised it was going to be a great opportunity.

The next two days were rather hectic at college, I hardly had time to devote to planning the coming weekend. But on the Thursday I did, managing to call in on the way home to add to my collection of make-up and underwear to an extent. I had planned to do more on the Friday, just before Helen and Charlie left. I did, buying a skirt at a small shop I dared to go into, and a pair of earrings too. Driving back home that night I was excited. I felt myself nearly ready for possibly the most exciting evening yet.

Except that I had forgotten something. Something important, very important. So on the way home, nearly at home, I was forced to turn back and try to find a chemist’s shop. Nail varnish remover. I had the actual varnish, in a colour very close to my ‘French’ lipstick colour, but I had forgotten that I would have to remove it. As I did a reverse turn to head back into town I heard a sharp blast on a car horn. I was blocking someone’s drive as I tried to reverse around a corner. I had little option, I didn’t want to cause a traffic problem and I could see a large bus heading towards me. I had no choice but to drive on past the flat and then do a left and a left again, try to double back and hit the main road slightly further out of town so I could get there before the chemist’s shut. I was pushing it a bit close.

And inevitably and very quickly I was somewhat lost. The second turn took me onto a road which swung round, it was obviously not parallel to my original route. I reckoned my best bet was to carry on, I had to meet a main road soon, then turn and head back into town.

I did just that, met the main road, turned and - almost right in front of me I saw a chemist’s shop. Not the one I had planned on using but, hell this would do, it was closer. And big enough too, it would certainly have what I wanted. I had got over the embarrassment stage by then, I could easily just brazen out the purchase, pay and walk out. I pulled into the small parking bay in front and got out. I went in, found the bottle on the shelf, paid and left the shop, heading for my car.

Then I looked up. I couldn’t believe it. There, across the road, the large display board, the shop name caught my eye. ‘Transform’. I’d heard about the shop, the chain of shops indeed. But I didn’t know there was a local branch. London I knew had one, and Manchester, and Bristol. But here. On the edge of Birmingham. I had been living within a quarter of a mile of this store for three months, in fact within a mile for three years, and I hadn’t known it was there. I opened the car, threw the bag I was carrying in, and re-locked it. I just HAD TO go in.

Nerves? Well, yes of course, I had always planned any activity to do with my ‘dressing’ oh-so carefully. But, sod it, this was an opportunity not to be missed. There was no-one waiting at the bus-stop outside, I might have thought twice if there had been. The sign on the door - I glanced quickly at it - revealed that it shut at eight. Two hours away, more. Lots of time. I pushed the handle, nothing happened. Surely it was not closed. Then I noticed the bell. A security door, maybe they thought it was needed for that type of shop. I pressed and heard a slight buzz from inside, then heard the door-lock click. I pushed and went in. I know I shouldn’t have been surprised at what I saw, but I was.

I knew this wasn’t just a clothes shop, I’d seen the adverts in a magazine. They did all sorts of stuff for trannies. I looked round clothes, shoes, magazines. One section caught my eye. Prostheses, imitation bits that is, basically breastforms and imitation vaginas. I walked toward sit and looked. The breastforms on display, they looked very real. A young woman in a white blouse came over towards me.

"Hello there, can I help?"

Her name was Janet, at least that’s what her lapel badge indicated. And help she did. I had to leave the shop briefly half an hour later - to go to the ATM I had seen just along from the chemist’s shop, but I went back in loaded with cash. For some reason, although I had effectively owned up to Jane that I was a cross-dresser, I didn’t want to use a card to by stuff, that made it too official. I lashed out just over £200 - the limit my card could do in one go. I was going to need more cash tomorrow. But I left the shop carrying a large brown bag, no shop logo I was delighted to see.

Back home ten minutes later I laid the bag on my bed and opened it. Only three items, for £200. But what items. One pair of breastforms, big but not too big I hoped, Janet had said I had ‘the frame to carry them’. Maybe she was just after a sale. And one pair of shoes, in a ‘Sale’ bin in the shop but exactly what I had wanted and only £20. And a basque, but what a basque. Thin, tight, red, very elasticated, very shiny. It looked great and I couldn’t wait to see me in it.

But I was going to have to wait. Time to stop the impulses, get back on track, back to the plan. I folded and packed all the stuff carefully at the back of my small wardrobe and did m supper. I expected Helen or Charlie might come round, I didn’t want to get caught out. And I was right, just before nine there was a knock at the door. It was both of them. Helen did look so eager, obviously she still had a sense of child-like excitement and anticipation. Charlie was more practical. We all went over into the house, Charlie showed me how to deal with the security system. It had been giving some trouble but seemed to work OK when we tested it. Helen showed me the plants in the conservatory I would have to see to, and where the coffee was in the kitchen, and so on.

I left at half past ten after wishing them bon voyage and spent a rather uneasy night. They were due back on the Thursday, a few days before Christmas. I had five clear days in the middle. On my own. Unobserved.

Saturday turned into a no-no, despite my best efforts I just couldn’t get out of helping with some stuff which some students at college were sorting out for the start-of-term event at the beginning of January. It had to be done that day, most of them were off home the Sunday or Monday. Normally I would have been delighted to help out, but this time? I did end up having quite a fun evening anyway, not drinking too much but spending quite some time on the floor of one of my student’s flats, basically necking and fondling with his big sister who had come up to take him home to Scotland the next day. I wasn’t drunk but she was. Which ruled out sex but didn’t preclude all sorts of rather interesting amorous activities. However I made my excuses just before midnight.

I went down to the college that Sunday, it was virtually deserted. Most of the post-holes had been emptied. Now I was on my own. I filled myself in on the contact list - ‘away until Thursday’ - and left.

I had a light lunch and then, at 2.00 pm precisely, set to it. I had never had a real opportunity like this - and I was going to make the most of it!

I started with a bath, a hot bath, a sweet-scented very hot bat, to soften my skin and get it ready for the next stage. I’d never really had any quantity of body hair, ten minutes after getting out of the bath I had none - courtesy of a depilatory shampoo and a hot shower. I felt smooth, my skin felt sensuous as I patted my body dry. A light coating of a fragrant oil followed, it felt wonderful as it dried on my warm smooth skin. I pulled on the panties I had bought, red and very silky-looking. I tucked myself in and turned to the items I had spread out over the bed.

The breastforms came next, a new experience for me. I had already spent some time carefully reading the instructions for the forms and the adhesive and so on. Now I put what I had learned into practices, smoothly smearing the adhesive into place, then lying down and positioning them carefully over my chest. Just three minute later I sat up - wow! The feeling was electric, their weight pulling down, I was definitely going to need strong support from my bra! I then carefully used the supplied make-up round the top edges, ending up smoothing it gently into position and then looked at the effect in a mirror. It looked even better than I had imagined, I honestly couldn’t see the join.

Next came the basque, smooth and silky and tight, very heavily elasticated with extra ties at the back. I got the ‘boobs’ nestled into the cups and then pulled the ties as best I could. Then I had an idea. I looped the ties over a door handle and leaned forward, feeling my waist squeezed in almost until I couldn’t breathe. Yet again the sight of my boobs, pushed up and out, excited me. I removed the neck-straps. Yes, I could indeed wear the basque strapless. I had another plan in mind.

I quickly slid my stockings, the gorgeous real-silk French pair I had been saving, on and clipped the lace tops into the suspender straps of the basque, then stood up once more to enjoy the constricting feeling of the elasticated straps stretched over the tops of my thighs. I looked in the mirror. The stockings did indeed go quite some way up my thighs, I was going to be able to wear a short skirt or dress with them without showing the stocking tops. Or at least without exposing them too much anyway. I settled down again at the small dressing table to do my make-up, taking my time with the smooth slightly gloss foundation cream, not too thickly, just enough to do the job of covering any blemishes on my previously-masculine face.

I enjoyed this part, the make-up, the careful craft of rendering my face feminine. A little blusher, my eyebrows carefully but not too boldly delineated. Eyeshadow, eyeliner, mascara, I just loved the changes which came over my face at each stage of the ‘magic’ process. Just a little blusher to finish, then steady application with my lip pencil, two coats of lipstick and one of lip-gloss to finish the task.

I often tried not to look in the mirror at this stage, I wanted to wait to see the final effect in one go. But I had to inspect my wig when I shook it into place after clipping the wig-liner to my own flattened hair behind my ears. But I tried not to see the full effect, that was for later. The wig was not my ‘old’ straight hair job, this was the dark-blonde one I had bought from ‘Transform’, shoulder length and rather curly, the nearest I had ever tried to ‘big hair’.

I had saved doing my nails until last, knowing that trying to do make-up while wearing them would be awkward. But now it was time to unwrap the pack and stick them into place, longish clear nails, just asking to be painted. I don’t appreciate the smell of solvents usually but this was different, sitting there with my silky legs crossed, meticulously applying the shiny colour over the clear surface of the nails, enjoying the transformation as it took place finger by finger, resulting in ten bright red talons, long, thin, shiny and sensual. I felt good. Not for the final stage of the ‘plan’. I realised it depended on one thing out of my control but I thought I knew my landlady well enough. She wouldn’t have let me down. I slipped on a pair of trainers, they felt odd on my stockinged feet. Then a pair of jogging pants and my track top, loose fitting, and zipped it up. It was getting dark outside now. But what did I care? There was no-one around to see me. I grabbed my small ‘jewel’ case and my high heels and shoved them in a small bag. And left the house.

Not that I was going far of course. Just a few yards to Charlie and Helen’s front door. I unlocked the door and slipped quickly in, turning on the hall light and crossing quickly to the alarm console. I tapped in the four-figure code Charlie had set for the period he was away, I was sure he would re-set it after their return. I was relieved when the small red LED went out, to be replaced by the green one next to it. Deactivated, good. I quickly tripped upstairs and into what I knew to be the master bedroom.

I opened the double-doors facing me and was visually assaulted by a TV’s delight. Two long racks of absolutely gorgeous, and very feminine, clothes. Not exactly all shapes and sizes, I knew quite a lot of them would never fit me. Helen was, I guessed, a size 8 or 10, I was a 12. But I had looked carefully at her figure in the past few days, I estimated she had maybe put on just a little weight. Which meant that anything she had bought recently would be a 10. I scanned down the rack of dresses and my eyes lit up. Yes. It was there.

That red dress. I knew I had judged her right. She had already been out with the friends they were staying with wearing that dress. Gorgeous though it was she would not want to wear it again in their company, certainly not so soon, I just knew she would have left it behind and I was right. I reached out, my hands trembling a little, and took the hanger, laying it gently on the bed. It was the right dress. I slipped it off its hanger and stared. I was trembling with excitement, never in my life had I dreamed of being able to wear such a dress. I looked carefully at the label, everything was going right, t was a size 10 rather than an 8. I reckoned that with my new basque, pulling me in and squeezing me into all the right places I might well be able to get it on.

I opened the bag I had brought and shook the contents, my jewellery and shoes, onto the bed. I quickly slipped off my outer clothes, then found and clipped on a pair of earrings I had bought specially in town, heavy silver hoops with a red inset, then added four rings to my fingers, a gold and silver mixture but to of them with a fake ruby stone. And, I wondered about it at the time but I did it, a gold band - on the third finger of my left hand. I clipped a silver-mesh choker, again with a ruby motif at the front, round my neck. I slipped on my red high heels. Now for it.

I held up the dress and allowed my fingers to glide over the smooth fabric, feeling my excitement grow. In one sense I just wanted to carry on preparing, the anticipation was such a buzz. But now was the time, I was ready. I slid the back zip down, opened up the dress, and stepped in. I’ve dressed in women’s clothes so often since, it always gives me a thrill, but that moment has been one of the best, the erotic and sensuous feeling as the fabric slid up over my thighs and I reached to fit my arms into the sleeves. That bit went OK, I had to struggle a little to fit it fully over my waist, to pull the cups into place over my basque and hide it inside the smooth folds on the ‘bosom’ of the dress, the finally to reach behind me and tug the zipper all the way up. It was a struggle but I was ready. Finished. I turned to look in Helen’s full length mirror. Orgasm time!

Or nearly. There was certainly, not for the first time but this was the strongest I had felt it, a sexual thrill in seeing myself, in the mirror, dressed like that. It fitted me, not exactly like a glove but it did fit. I looked and felt gorgeous. Dare I say it but, with my ‘fake’ breasts just about contained I presented an even more sensual and sexy image than Helen had done herself. I shivered as I looked and began to walk round the room, enjoying the feel of the extra-high heels, admiring the way I could swagger a little and exaggerate the wiggle of my bum, leaning against a chair and posing as I exposed my thigh to myself, and - dare I say it - imagining the effect I would have if I walked into a bar full of - men!

Of course that was not on. But I could do the ‘bar’ part. I looked in the wardrobe again, found Helen’s small clutch bag, the one I had seen her with when she had worn the dress. ‘My’ dress, at least for now. I transferred into it the few things I had brought in my pockets, lipstick, mascara, purse, lighter and so on, and went downstairs. Ad spent over half an hour strolling round the house, just being there, trying to glimpse myself at every angle in every mirror there, in the hall, in the kitchen, even the large glass window leading to the conservatory.

I found the drinks cabinet and, after carefully inspecting everything so that I could replace things, exactly as before, I did myself a drink, a vodka-and -lime, what I had decided was to be ‘my’ femme drink. I sat on a stool in the kitchen, legs crossed, posing, lit myself a long cigarette, sipped my drink, and dreamed again what it would be like to be like this, to be seen, to be out in public, looking and feeling so good. To be my own woman.

I even at one stage went up to get my keys from the bedroom, eager to go out, go for a drive, maybe even actually go into a bar. And.... who knows? But I didn’t. I just did myself another drink, and posed. Eventually I dared to actually go out. But only into the back garden, I opened the patio door and stepped out, just strolled for a minute, feeling the cool wind on my legs and on my bare shoulders. But it was a little too cold for that really, I went back in and poured myself another drink and sat on the sofa sipping it, imagining. This was so good, I had a warm cosy feeling all over, I closed my eyes for a few moments.

"Hello there".

What the hell was that!!

End of Part 2

 

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