Afternoon Tea on the Lawn

Now I can't begin to explain the simple joy of walking round the shops dressed as a girl. I had been to town many times but never in lingerie, a designer dress, stockings and high heels. I enjoyed every minute, every sensation. The sound of my tiny heels clicking in the pavement, the swish of my dress on my silken legs and the rustle of my dress hanging round my breasts. Popping into other boutiques and flicking through the dresses as a girl was a tremendous thrill. My transition into womanhood seemed complete. Kate was none the wiser and everyone we met seemed oblivious to my true identity. We even got a wolf whistle from a group of builders high up on some scaffolding that really made my day. This was when something funny happened - I felt a flush of excitement. Why? I'm not sure. I wasn't gay or had any interest in men up until now. All I wanted to do was wear women's clothes. The very sensation of silk, lace and delicate fabrics against my skin drove me wild. So why now? Was my body undergoing some form of feminine change? I thought I dressed pretty for the benefit of myself not for some hunky builder and yet wearing the delightfully feminine dress I soaked up their comments like a sponge. So please excuse me harbouring on about this and if you don't enjoy the male bit please skirt (no pun intended) around these bits and resume later.

Back in the shop Trish was talking animatedly to an older woman she called Yvonne. She was dressed impeccably in an expensive smart canary yellow business suit, court shoes and a crisp white blouse. Her fingers where laden with gold rings and she wore an expensive looking pearl necklace with matching earrings. Her hair was beautifully cut and she stood very tall and proud. Her voice was very respectable and she spoke with a cool authority that made me shudder. She seemed too old to be a 'Debut' customer.

'Rosemary love,' Trish said to me as I walked in, 'could you show Mrs Forrester some things. She wants a few outfits for her niece.'