I had done my best to look reasonable, though I knew the skirt was a little short for a six-foot tall girl. But as I was at a T* gathering in one part of a fairly big hotel in Bradford, I felt that I couldn't be wearing the wierdest outfit of all. Besides, I like wearing short skirts.
This was the first time I had ever been out in 'public' (even
though it was only going to be within the relatively safe walls of the
hotel), and my girlfriend and I were about to emerge from our room after
I'd carefully shaved my legs, put on feminine clothes and applied makeup.
It seemed like hours earlier, we had gone in as boy and girl, and now with
my heart beating very loudly, we were stepping out as two young ladies.
Heaven and hell at the same time - I've never been so nervous.
To transform myself, (as I'm sure you want to know) I'd put on some pretty lace knickers, lace top stockings and a suspender belt, a short black wrap skirt and suede ankle boots. A white bra, padded suitably and a nice white blouse went under a short pale blue/green jacket. I'd had my blonde wig cut shorter for the occasion, as it had got progressively more and more knotted with lack of care. So for the moment I was a blonde, with matt red lips and eyeshadow in gentle shades of brown. To my eyes, loooking in the mirror I saw a young woman ready to work in an office - and that woman was me. My girlfriend was wonderful, telling me I looked fine, and holding my hand as we walked down to the restaurant for a meal before the party.
I quickly remembered why stockings and a short skirt are not ideal in these situations. Stairs suddenly became quite threatening, and - ping! there went one of the suspender attachments. Still I managed to find a quiet corner and tidy myself up before we reached the restaurant.
Luckily we were eating quite early, so the place wasn't busy. I asked in my gentlest, politest voice for a table and we were soon seated, with no trouble from the waiter. My partner teased me a little as I couldn't relax in my chair - how could I, I was sitting in broad daylight dressed in comfortable, sensual and attractive womens clothes, enjoying a meal with another pretty girl. I was loving it and scared to death all at once.
We chatted, giving me the chance to relax before our food came. The meal was fine, but I can't claim I remember it - there were too many things on my mind! Near the end of the meal, my partner pointed out a man and a young child eating at another table in the restaurant - she told me he had been staring at us throughout the meal. Did he know what he was staring at? I've no idea, but I suspect that with the other TVs in the hotel, he had an idea. Either that, or my skirt really was too short.
After the meal, we met up with the organisers of the party before retreating back to our room to change for the evening. I swapped my undies so I was wearing a nice matching black set, put on a stretchy black top and over that a short crushed velvet dress. I changed my short blonde hair for long chestnut curls that felt lovely brushing against my face, and completed the outfit with long black suede boots. Again, probably a little over the top for some, but this was a party and I felt gorgeous.
Down in the ballroom, there were thirty or forty trannies, all dressed
up to the nines. We sat with some friends we knew on a table, and met some
of the other girls there for the party. I was glad that my outfit wasn't
too fussy, even if it was a bit tarty - the table I was sitting on errupted
in a chorus of 'Ballgown! Ballgown!' as one TV entered in a big pink 'Christmas
tree Fairy' dress. It just goes to show that we may get together for parties,
but it doesn't stop the bitching :)
There was a contest for the prettiest girl at the party, which I was pushed into by my partner. Being the focus of attention like that makes me very nervous, but since then if I'm feeling a bit embarrassed I remind myself that I've paraded in front of an audience in a red dress, stockings and thigh boots - after which most things seem relatively minor. There were some very attractive girls there and I didn't win, but I did get some makeup in the raffle later, so I could at least put on a lot more slap..
We were entertained by Fay Presto, a TS magician, who was funny and very slick and should be booked for every function you organise. After that, there was some food and an excellent band, and we danced and partied until late.
After what had been a long and very intense evening, my girlfriend and I staggered up the stairs and... well, I'll leave that to your imaginations (you dirty lot).
The following morning was not so fun though - the room looked like a bomb site, and I needed about three showers to wipe of the remaining layers of gunge. We packed our bags and checked out. As I was sitting in the lobby - dressed normally this time - a bloke with a walking cane and thick Yorkshire accent told me conspiratorially 'Bloody weirdos - I'm not like that you know, they would have been beaten in my day'. I had to agree, but I didn't tell him we'd entered the 20th century - he seemed happier that way.
The whole occasion was fantastic. I couldn't have done it without the support of my girlfriend and the encouragement of the organisers, but it felt fabulous to dress up and go out. Let's hope for a few more parties like that...
P.S. Sadly the organisers split up and I've not heard from them in well over a year, so I guess that particular event won't be happening again. It's a pity, but I wish them both well.