The dressing wasn't ever the thing for me it was the desire to BE a woman.I chatted for a while with the barman, his name was David and he was English... He had come on holiday here last year and decided to stay. We joked for a while and made a few innuendos about the various girls. I had learned sometime ago how to 'pretend to be male'. Eventually I realized time was moving on and I went back upstairs and unpacked. As I reached the bottom of the case I found the bikini I had brought with me and. I laughed to myself as I recalled fumbling for words while utterly at a loss for them upon seeing her in person. And of course, I remembered all too eagerly the fact that she had slipped a business card sized “Parking Pass” along with her key into my pocket just before leaving, and telling me to just let myself in and make a drink, because she didn’t want to answer the door in what she’d be wearing when I arrived. My mind was whirling, and I was jolted back to reality as the old Cadillac beside. Carefully I opened the door. But it was just a friend. I had completely forgotten that I had planned to go on a little walk with her. I rather wanted to try on my new lingerie, but I didn’t want to stand her up. So I went with her.When I came back home, it was already evening. I was very excited. After I showered quickly, I finally could try on my new ladies underwear. At first I put on my stockings. I love the feeling of nylon on my smooth, skinny legs. Then I donned the black thong and the. She was not without her misgivings when her route led her through that town where the now deceased mob had bayed for her blood on that terrible day. She need not have feared. The dead had been buried and the survivors, the little children and those peaceable decent souls who had not been carried away by the puritanical zeal of the majority, locking themselves into their homes and praying that the poor girl might be spared, flocked out to greet her. They assured her that they bore her no ill.