I followed her up to her bedroom. I quickly slid off my shoes, pants and shorts, then watched as her cardigan came off, then her bra, leaving her nice...boobs to swing free. Then her skirt dropped, revealing a support panty-girdle under tights (pantyhose for you colonials LOL). As she discarded the panty-girdle, I noticed that the gussett was very nicely stained.Her pussy was completely devoid of hair, so I asked her if she shaved. "No" she said "It's natural, I've lost my hair there as I've. None. they are just what a womanwears, so that's what I wear.To further that point, its not about the clothes.I wear pants and a shirt most days. Dresses and skirts are saved forspecial occasions - just like most women my age. Yes, there are times whenI want to be more feminine, but I'm a practical woman , and so end up incomfortable, durable clothes. And as for underwear, that's even morepractical, as the only person who will ever see them is me.It's not about attracting attention.My happiest. It seemed to me that here was an opportunity to get one of the biggees done with no risk. Marianne, again, had agreed that so long as it was a onetime deal, that it might be a kick. So ... two months gone we did it.Two months ago:Marcus had showed up that first night, and in spite of the previously noted ice breaker at the bistro, he was at least as nervous as I was. I counted that a good thing. As for Marianne, she appeared—what—comfortable. I thought that odd as hell; but, what the hey, she. Not too far from the copula, I felt a sudden stab of pain to my heart. I wasn't having a heart attack; I was seeing three good girls I knew from school. They were sitting in beach-chairs, dressed in pretty but not very revealing bathing-dresses, laughing and talking and eating and looking about. I felt a strange, odd, twisted-feeling longing to be with them instead of with Lindie, to be wearing male attire instead of a female's bathing-dress, to be talking about things the girls would accept as.