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I had bought the leopard mini-trenchcoat from XOXO's on-line store. (BTW, don't buy stuff from their on-line store if you can help it. The turn-around is horribly slow because the order is not fulfilled by XOXO directly, but rather by eFashion Solutions, apparently a sub-contractor.) I didn't know at the time, but I found out later that XOXO stuff is targeted towards teen girls. I guess I qualify as a teen girl of sorts: afterall, I've been exploring all things feminine for only a teen number of years. The coat, a cropped trenchcoat style, feels luxuriously soft and drape-y, with a full lining, and self-belted (i.e. the belt is made from the same material as the coat). Put it together with the boots, throw in an ultra-short tight skirt and an ultra-tight top, and I did sizzle, baby!

My first stop was a Starbucks. Though I have to this Starbucks before, this is not the Starbucks that I usually go to en femme. As it turned out, in between it being rush hour, and being in the holiday season, the Starbucks was just jam packed with people. I guess everyone wants to start their day with an eggnog latte. Of course, once I walked in and saw the crowd, it was too late. I can't just turn around and run away! I waded right in. The many people waiting to put in their order means that one may have to give one's order to the cashier while still several positions back in the line, requiring that one speak up in a louder voice. I managed to "bark" my order out OK without anybody snapping their head about for a second take of the "lady" .

That part done, I waited for my drink. Men waiting for their drinks lurked behind me. 'Course, I made it easy for them by taking up a position at the front of the crowd, pretending to read the headlines of the newspapers on the rack. I could feel the burn of hungry gazes up and down the back of my thighs! Wooo, that was such a turn-on!

Then it was off to the post office to drop off an Xmas package. I "had" to venture into the main area where customers, having taken a number, were waiting for their number to be called. From the way some of the men reacted when I strutted in, you'd have thought they were hoping that I was their number! Of course, with such an appreciative audience, I had to pretend to ask one of the clerks where to drop off my package, then in doing so, I bent over at the waist just a little too deep! I love being naughty!

Some people have written & said that all my outings seem to always be to the same places and thus are kinda repetitive. Well, sorry so sad, but I like to go to places that are known "safe" venues, where I have been before. Venturing into new territories usually incur a bit of anxiety from the unknown, which kinda puts a crimp in my enjoying the outing. All the same, this time, I ventured to a new place: the local Fry's, a geek's "candy store"! The store has these huge auto-sliding glass doors at the entrance. I so enjoyed admiring my reflection in the door glass as I approached from the parking lot!

I cruised the aisles, the (usually) sales help seemed to be extremely helpful. There's something about helping a lady in distress that makes a hero out of most men! OTOH, I suppose if you see a sexy thang in thigh-high boots, you'd try just little bit harder to be her hero, no? I flirted, saying things like "Not right now thanks, but can I come by and grab you if I need some help?" I love these James Bond-esque double entendre!

As I was leaving the store, the Salvation Army Santa, having previously enjoyed my entrance to the store, called out: "Nice boots!" I turned and smiled my sweetest smile at him and said thanks! I felt like asking him to to cum down my chimney . And I was thinking that I was gonna go the whole day w/o a man making a pass at me.

First a long shower. Oh, BTW, if you didn't know this already: I believe that hair conditioner works great as skin conditioner as well! I mean, why wouldn't it: hair & skin are both basically dead cells that need moisturization. Hair conditioner works extra well as a skin conditioner because you can apply it when it counts the most: when your skin is already well hydrated. An extra bonus is that I can take time and apply it in all kinds of delicious nooks and crannies of my bod, in the most amazingly delicious manner possible!

After a long and most enjoyable shower, I put on high heels and blow dried my hair in the nude. I just love to blow dry my hair in the nude and enjoy the sight of my cute tush and gorgeous high heeled gams in the mirror! A careful, tasteful (but definitely beautiful!) make-up job followed.

I then picked my cute blue skirt suit:

The last thing was to put a tube of K-Y Jelly, condoms, and paper towels in my purse: when I go out en femme, I like to pretend that I will definitely pick a lucky man and let him have his way with me ).

Thus properly dolled up, and now properly sexually excited , I jumped into the car and went to get a latte at Starbucks. The Starbucks' clientele got a lovely leg show from me!

I then walked over to a nearby supermarket, ostensibly to look for some hosiery, but we all know that I only wanted to strut my stuff some more! And strut I did! Right in front of the hosiery is the photo processing department. The young men working there got quite an eyeful as I leaned over, bent at the waist, to check out some stuff on a low shelf. Ain't I such a show off and a flirt? On the way out, I made sure to glance over at them and smiled sweetly, as if to say "I hope you enjoyed the show, 'cause I enjoyed showing off my thong panty and pantyhose to you, and I hoped you haven't creamed in your pants because of me!" OK, so that's a lot to say with just one glance!

From there, I dropped by a newly opened "super store", kinda like a Super Target. (For Austinites, it's the new H.E.B. at Anderson Mills and 620.) I needed a money order for a remote control that I bought on eBay for my camera, so I went to the "services" counter to get one. While there I also asked if they have a mail box. I even impressed myself at how I managed all that without my voice giving me away! Flushed with success, and the latte now coming to haunt my bladder, I visited the ladies room. Since the place is new, the ladies room is very nice and nicely decorated, with a salmon/brick-colored walls, framed pictures, flowers, etc. The color of the walls combined with the normally institutional fluorescent lighting to greatly flatters one's complexion. I did my business, then took my time in front of the mirror fixing my make-up, touching up my lipstick, adjusting my pantyhose (hiking up my skirt in the process!). There were nobody there at the time, but I really took my time in front of the mirror, hoping that someone would walk in, so I can impress myself some more with how well I pass! Alas, I did not get my wish, so I had to settle for buying some L'Eggs panythose and flirting with a very butch-looking cashier instead .

I picked eight dresses to try on. The dressing room attendant looked at me, checked my number of items and gave me a plaque with an '8' on it. I said thank you and headed off into the men's dressing rooms. Half way in, I heard her saying "Excuse me..." She added: "I think you want to go into the other side..." The "other side" is the women's dressing rooms! How she came to think that I was a woman is beyond me! I didn't even have my hair down, like I sometimes do. I guess the dresses kinda steered her thoughts in the direction of "woman" rather than "man"!

Anyway, I smiled and said in the deepest male voice I could muster "I think I want this side!"

I picked out a white halter minidress with cute pink/red flowers and a dusty rose/fuschia dress with a sexy flouncy hemline, and a white halter A-line minidress. For good measure I also picked out a few micro-minis to try on as well. Off I went to the dressing room to try the stuff on. The girl tending the dressing room was all business. She merely counted my items, gave me a tag with a number on it and that was that. No fuss, no muss, no raised eyebrows. I think though, if I had headed for the women's dressing rooms instead of the men's, she may have a thing or two to say about that! I tried on the clothes, and settled on the first two dresses and a pleated micro-miniskirt.

When I went to pay for the stuff, the cashier ooh'ed and aah-ed over my choices, commenting how pretty they are, and how "she's really going to like this!". I was so tempted to say, "Well, actually, they're for me!" and see how she reacts! She might try to pick me up!

Zing!
I perked right up.
There is something ever so slightly masculine about her.
I immediately started an internal debate on whether Brini is really a he. The voice is ever so slightly non-feminine (which is not saying that her voice is slightly masculine; it's much less masculine than that). The facial feature is ever so slightly masculine, as are the hands and the figure.

I turned to that infallible research resource, Google. Brini Maxwell. is indeed One Of Us! Wow! She does such a good job being a transgender Martha Stewart! You go, girl! Oh and Brini, hon, if you ever happen to read this: I'd love to be an Ed McMahon to your Johnny Carson. (I am much sexier than Ed McMahon though .)

Oh, BTW, if anybody wanna take me to dinner at Eddie V's, followed by a stroll by Town Lake, followed by a hot photo session in The Four Seasons, followed by an evening that will fog your glasses, just lemme know.

OK, I'm only kidding. (Ain't I a teaser? ) I'm being very very very good nowadays; I'm not looking for any extracurricular actitivities at all.

But that did not stop me from visiting the store on my own. The propriertesses acted quite professionally and treated me just like any other shopper. I tried on several things in the dressing room. One of which was a size 2 dress. Geez was I over-optimistic about that dress! Due to its design (open back pull-over with criss-cross spaghetti straps across the back), there was no way I was gonna get into that dress down past my shoulders . If only it had a zipper on the side!

But I also found a hot pink linen

OTOH, the feeling of cool air wafting up my skirt, caressing my inner thighs like a lover's hands, is one of the most delish feelings in the world! Fantasies race through my mind of a sexy encounter with a hunky man who would then have ready access to my goodies. I would simply bend over the hood of my car and he can take me as easy as 1,2,3.

Well, anyway, I hadn't gone out en femme in a while, and since I was dressed up all purdy, I figure I'd do it. I was off to H.E.B. Central Market, at Lamar & 38th Street. I stopped at a Star-schmucks along the way for a double tall latte. Way back when I was working in downtown Austin, I used to stop at this Starbucks every day. They know me by name. I just walk in and they have my drink (triple tall latte) up in a jiffy, I don't even have to say a word. Of course, since I was now going there en femme, I wasn't going to order a "triple tall latte"! To this day, I am still not "out" to people who only know of my male self.

The Starbucks was fuller than usual, with almost all tables taken. Read: I had a big audience to show off to! There was a group of five young women at a table. Their general reaction, as much as I can perceive, was that they were impressed. You would be impressed, too, at this:

When I got to H.E.B. Central Market, I spent some time browsing in a nearby bookstore first. I just love the way people (men and women!) just seem to gravitate towards me and start milling about! As I was standing there browsing through the fashion magazines, a young woman with a cute little baby all a sudden seemed quite interested in some guitar magazines on the rack right near my legs! I was tempted to hike up my skirt a bit and "let it all hang out", but I thought better of it .

I wanted to look my best before hitting Central Market, so I went to the ladies room in the bookstore to check that my stockings' seam are straight. As I was standing facing the door, my back to the mirror & checking my stocking seams, a woman walked in. She glanced at my stockings and went into one of the stalls. Wouldn't she be surprised to learn that the woman checking her stocking seams is not a woman?

I went over to Central Market and did my usual cruising, checking myself out in the glass of the frozen food cases. On the way back to the car, I passed one of Central Market's chefs, taking a smoke break, sitting at the curb in front of of a bric-a-brac shop. Suddenly, I was intensely intrigued by the stuff in the shop's window, so I paused to check it out. Of course, my back (and my legs and my stocking seams and my high heeled feet) was to him . Wow! Will you look at that in the window! Oh yeah, the stuff in the shop is just as interesting as my reflection .

Back at my car, which was parked in front of the bookstore, in full view of everyone inside, I had my last hurrah: I bent over to "pick up something", giving everyone who bothers to look a flash up my skirt:

My theory is that Justin T. really did think that only the red bra was supposed to show, and that Janet Jackson took advantage of the move and sprung a surprise on him, revealing a bit more than was scripted. Why would she have covered her nipple if she wasn't planning on the move showing her whole breast? Perhaps she hopes to jump start her career with a bit of notoriety. For one thing, her label, Virgin Records, released her new single, "Just a Little While the next day!

Now, all that is not why I'm pissed. That's all so mainstream it's not even worth mentioning (sez the man dressed as a purdy woman ). What's pissing me off is the armies of righteous assholes whining about "decency" and "moral" and "what about the children?" To them I say: pull that stick out of your ass 'cause it's fucking up your brain!

The FCC (Federal Communications Commission) whines about the stunt being "classless" and "crass" and "Our nation's children, parents and citizens deserve better." The right-wing, church-goin', God-fearing' hordes are all so indignant, so outraged. They complain that they wanted "an island of safety where they can watch TV with their children" without fear of embarassment. They complain about having to suffer that moment while watching the Superbowl with their family, their kids & grand kids and all. In their foamin'-at-the-mouth morality moment, they conveniently forget that:

• The dozen or so of ads for several erectile dysfunction drugs ("Grandpa, what are they talking about? What does '36 hours of relief from impotence' mean?")
• The juvenile locker room beer ads, particularly the one where a dog chomps at a man's privates, and the one where a horse farted in a woman's face.
• The rest of the half-time show:
  
  Jessica Simpson in tight tight tight little white shorts and white high heel CFM boots, stuff that not even I will wear in public ;
  
  Justin Timberlake bumping and grinding Janet Jackson, only their clothes preventing it from actually being X rated;
  JT and JJ's background dancers, decked out in B & D gear: a man wearing a gag, men wearing garterbelt and stockings, men wearing skimpy bikini bottom sporting a huge "package", men wearing high heels, women in dominatrix garb & behaving accordingly,
  women looking highly orgasmic;
  ad naseum.

  
  And let's not forget the streaker!

  (Credit where it's due, the FCC's Chairman, Michael Powell, did say, of JJ's "reveal": "It 'wasn't even the most offensive part. It was the finale of something that was offensive. The whole performance was onstage copulation. This really crossed a heinous line."
  No shit Mikey, I'm so glad you were not offended by the horse-fart and dog-bites-man's-crotch stuff.)

  For me, Janet Jackson's breast was among the tamest parts of the Superbowl XXXVIII experience. It's the self-righteous breast-beating foamin'-at-the-mouth assholes that come out of the woodwork afterwards.

On the last night, I was off to the Whole Foods HQ store in downtown Austin. This time I had on my black leather miniskirt, semi-sheer black-and-white striped blouse. I wore a black lace-trimmed bra underneath. It is très sexy the way you can catch a glimpse of the bra through the shirt. I think it's always much much sexier when something is left to the imagination, than if you can see everything. Nude "net effect" stay-up stockings and reverse ankle-strap high heels (I'm getting mucho mileage out of this pair of high heels!) show off my legs. My black purse goes well with the heels:

I didn't want to scare the neighbors , so I waited until it's dark out before leaving the house. I know, I know, I'm being paranoid, especially since the car is in the garage and I can take my time getting into it w/o being seen while en femme. What's more, my neigbors don't usually "hang out on the stoop", so I don't need to worry about anybody being outside at that moment & catching a glimpse of Nicole. All the same, if just one of them sees me while I'm not quite as I should be, one way or another it will come back to haunt me later.

Once I'm on my way, I headed for the Whole Foods downtown. (What is it with me and Whole Foods? I always like to go there; maybe it's because the crowd there is usually the "alternative lifestyle" crowd, so even if someone figures me out, I wouldn't be too unusual a sight to them. Besides, I might get lucky and get picked up by a beefy & muscular (but beautiful) lesbian. )

This Whole Foods is next door to a Book People bookstore, which was where I went first. While there, I flirted with a sexy pretty girl in a shoulders-baring halter top and tight low-rise butt crack-showing jeans.
It wasn't my fault.
She started it.
She was cruising me pretty hard.
I was just browsing the home decor magazines. She sauntered by and started browsing the men-only magazines like FHM and Maxim and such, which are on the rack right behind where I was. As you may know, those magazines are chock full of pics of amazingly sultry & sexy & beautiful women. Was she trying to tell me something? We were standing so close to each other our butts were almost rubbing. Did I say I love to flirt? I probably haven't said that I'm an "equal opportunity flirter": I flirt with men & women equally .

After cruising the aisles of Whole Foods for a while, indulging in my favorite pasttime of admiring my reflection in the vast expanses of glass of the icecream freezer , I left Whole Foods and headed for a supermarket in a rather high-brow neighboorhood (the "flagship" Randalls in Westlake, for you Austinites). There was this girl who looks like she just came out of volleyball practice: tight little t-shirt, tight TIGHT TIGHT little shorts, knee pads, etc. She was kinda young, probably high school age. She seemed quite "intrigued" with this pretty lady in see-through blouse and leather skirt and funky fishnet stockings and spiky heels! She kinda milled about around me for a while. I didn't exactly run away. |-) The sexual tension was so high I think it defrosted all the Lean Cuisine (to steal a line from "My Blue Heaven"). Gosh, that was yummy.