fashions, frilly shirts and so on. But they don't wear lacey bras or frilly slips or pretty panties. And when they do they are categorically adopt- ing the feminine role, not just being up-to-date.
I told her how the famous Julian Eltinge, the great American female impersonator of the early part of the century, had a powerful appeal with women in his audiences.
"Anyway," she went on, "I've forgotten what you look like in your slip. Take your dress off. Here, let me help you.” Carefully, we man- euvered the chiffon-draped dress over my head, and Alison went to the hall cupboard for a hanger to drape it on. "Whoops!" she cooed, “I can see your knickers!" I was between her and the fire, which was now burning back into life.
"So what?" I said. "You've seen them before." Glancing down as I moved I saw that the material that draped over the leg elastics of my knickers was clearly discernible under the fine nylon of my slip, whereas under the dress it had not been so noticeable. "That is a pretty slip," said Alison. My hand moved lightly over my thigh, feeling the smooth material and, of course, enjoying it much more than she. In spite of the long time I had had the things on there was still that sweet erotic pleasure when I let myself sense the feel of them. In a little while we undressed and went to bed.
I doubt whether I shall ever forget the details of that evening. I don't know when a similar occasion might come along again. I shall be patient.
This, then, has been a diary of the evening. I did not flirt with men at the party, nor was I mistaken for a woman. My wife did not feel any different about my dressing up more frequently. There were no other men at the party dressed as women. I enjoyed being a man while dressed up, and I enjoyed my clothes, though not, of course, coincidentally. As I said, this has been a diary, not a fantasy. Of course, the names are changed, but that's all. Of academic interest is surely the fact that I was not an object of ridicule, nor, after a short while among folk, was I at all embarrassed. TV's too often assume the whole world disapproves of them and that they are being watched through binoculars. It isn't so at all. Why don't you try it next Hallowe'en? Or New Year's Eve? Or Madri Gras? Or Walpurgisnacht? If your wife or girl-friend could also garb herself as a gay young thing of the Twenties, you would make a fun couple.
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