ransvestia

Down the street, a man emerged with his dog, and I suddenly felt the true terror of my situation. In a panic, I needed to run, but that other force, even stronger, kept me walking on, like a nightmare. I passed him while he stood at the curb with his dog, disappointed that he had not noticed me.

I reached Second Avenue, but stopped by the traffic which flowed even at that late hour, dared not crss. Instead, I turned to look in a florist's window while I waited for the man and his dog to go back in.

A couple crossed Second Avenue and came toward me. Like an animal, I froze at the window. They passed so close behind me that I could smell the girl's perfume. They paused to look in the florist's win- dow, too, and my heart pounded. They started on, and I followed, seek- ing the protection of their wake. As they reached the man with his dog, the girl stopped to give the dog a pat. And then, as if some master hand had guided us, they parted and the man led his dog between us into his building. I followed on behind the departing couple.

They leaned their heads together and slipped their arms around each other's waist. The girl's skirt was short and flippy and I watched it as they walked. I envied him. For the moment, I envied his having a girl with a soft and sexy air to put his arms around, and I felt ashamed that I had given up my right to do so, too.

—

That envy, however, was more than compensated for by something I had that he did not. I had an entre into her life that he did not a degree of intimacy that he could never have. We both had panties on, that girl and I. We both had breasts and bras. We both felt the brush of our skirts against our legs, the lightness of our sheer clothing.

The breeze caught her skirt from time to time and showed enough of her panties that I knew they were plain and white. Mine were pret- tier than her's. The breeze caught my skirt, too, and made me wish that someone was following me to see a flash of blue. She gave him a little kiss, and I felt a wave of shame to be in a dress. The breeze really caught our skirts, both her's and mine, and raised them high. Like players in an orchestra, we moved our arms in unison and held them down. She turned around and looked, and maybe even smiled.

Half a block later, they turned into a building, and I headed back.