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My Story: There, that wasn't so bad... Was it?

by Sharon Jameson

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I had frequently wondered what would happen if I was 'caught' while Sharon dressed as a woman and then one night, I got an answer!

I've always enjoyed the feel of dressing in women's clothes, I can't explain why, but that desire is something that goes back as far as I can remember. My first experience was wearing my mother's faux fur coat. It was stylish, (in the 1950's) and long, and felt softer than anything I'd known. The red satin material inside felt cool and slippery against my skin; the weight of the coat really let you know you were wearing something. Of course it was far too long for a three year old boy, but whenever I'd get the chance to feel it—or better, wear it—I'd go for it, knowing full well what father would do if he caught me!

As years progressed, so did my appetite for my transformations. They became more detailed and more frequent. I began to practice feminine movements, being careful not to exaggerate them, but to perfect them. I still don't think I have that part down yet...

Anyway, my marriage broke apart (nothing to do with dressing) and I moved back in with my folks. After a time, I decided to resume my dressing. I bought various outfits, jackets, coats, hair, and makeup— all under the guise of buying for my 'girlfriend.' I even found a store that caters to women who are extremely tall!

With my new wardrobe, I'd take the odd weekend and head out of town, "to visit friends." Actually, I'd rent a motel room and practice my long abandoned hobby. (Or, as I prefer to call it, "art.")

One weekend in the winter, I decided that my makeup looked pretty convincing. My clothes fit nicely and darn-it-all, "I'm going for a walk." I waited until all activity around the motel had stopped (I work nights, so out-lasting the rest of the patrons wouldn't be too tough). Then, quietly, out I went!

My favourite pink, knit, turtle neck sweater, black slacks, new boots (slightly western and very conservative in style), new black leather gloves, my new leather jacket—with fox collar and new long brown hair— I even had brand new women's glasses. (That's for another story.) Oh, did I feel like a million dollars!

Luckily, there was a vacant factory next door and a large parking lot nearby. I just wanted to walk around and feel what it was like—as a woman. I made sure that my steps resembled a woman's (lifting each foot faster than I'd put it down—but not 'snapping' the feet up and using my hips to cushion each step.) I even kept my shoulders back and elbows in, but not riveted to my sides.

After a while, I decided that staying out any longer might be 'pushing my luck,' after all, the police must patrol this place sooner or later. So, I headed back to the motel. I just wasn't satisfied, and headed toward the front of the motel so I could take a look at the street. As I neared the front area of the motel, it happened! The night manager slowly opened the door. He was looking away from me, so I darted back around the corner, rapidly heading for my room... Then the thought hit me, "if he does see me and I'm running—that's it for sure!" So, I slowed to a gentle, non-caring walk. Sure enough, he came around the corner with a bunch of papers in his hand. I guess he was taking them to a storage room on my side of the motel.

All of a sudden I heard his voice asking, "May I help you?" Immediately, I attempted my best feminine voice. (Not a falsetto, just the higher range of my own; remember, I'm trying to learn NOT to exaggerate women's traits, simply replicate them.) "No, thank you," I replied. "Where are you going?" he asked. "Back to my room," I said, waving my key in the air.

Now, I must tell you, this all takes place in very dark surroundings (just outdoor motel lighting) at about 2am, and he's just about 15 feet behind me. To veterans of our hobby, that would be nothing to cause your antiperspirant to jump into action—but mine did! After all, this was my first time coming in contact with another human, while I'm en-femme!

"What room number" was his next question? I decided instantly that I'd better be honest. What if he followed me? I gave him the number and he simply said, "Ok, have a good night," and watched me as I entered the hallway to the second floor rooms.

The next morning, I was dead-tired! My nerves had been a wreck all night, and I decided that I'd call the front desk and make arrangements to stay an extra day. I was informed that I'd have to pay the "double occupancy rate," if I wished to stay. Now, they could've decided, "if he, she, whatever, wants to stay, then make he, she, whatever, pay extra"... But I prefer to think that I did pretty well at convincing the night manager that I was truly a six foot three inch woman, staying with ME [grin].

I did stay there again after that—and without incident.

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