TRANSVESTIA

The bell rang, and Sally went to answer it. It was three young women who immediately began gushing about my costume. Sally came in, and I ducked into the kitchen.

"That's Gretchen," I heard her say.

The bell rang again, and another group came in, four men. And more girls. And more. Within about five minutes the apartment was full, and Sally came to the kitchen.

"Make a tray full of drinks and take them around," she ordered.

I did. They were gone at once, and I returned for more. And more. Sally kept barking orders and I kept filling them. Perhaps it was a good thing, because it got me over my stage fright.

Eventually the rush died down and I was able to wander among the guests with my tray. I felt warm and excited, delighted from time to time to look down over my plump bosom at the tray being offered and to be looked at and thanked. It was especially pleasant to realize that of all the women there, I was wearing the most feminine clothes. They were in ordinary afternoon dresses and pants suits, but I was in a bouf- fant skirt and a sexy, low-cut blouse. I felt so good, I began to swing my hips as I walked, and to really think of myself as one of the girls.

I have often noticed that women in less sophisticated cultures have a much greater talent for bringing out their real femininity and enhan- cing it. Of all the women there, I in my peasant's dress was clearly the most feminine and, to judge from the glances, attractive. I liked it when they looked into my bosom and at my frothy skirt swishing around my knees. I really liked it.

It was a friendly group, and I had to keep reminding myself that I was supposed to be a serving girl. I kept finding myself lingering at a group, listening to their talk, responding with a smile if they questioned me or paid me a compliment.

I even gave thought to the possibility of getting a job from time to time as a waitress, maybe on weekends in some bar where I'd have to wear a fancy costume. Having tasted the pleasure of really being taken for a girl, I found myself searching for ways in which this pleasure could become a component of my work, particularly ways in which the pleasure was as keen as this.

"I just love your outfit. I'm afraid it would kill me to have my waist cinched so tight," said one.