My plan was to check my bag, not carry it on. I didn't want to have to explain the femme stuff if the security people decide to hand-inspect my bag. I suppose I could always say that it's my wife's stuff. I wear my wedding band, so it wouldn't have been that implausible that I was transporting some of my wife's stuff for her in my luggage. As it turned out, the weather in Vegas was atrocious and my flight was delayed two hours, but since I was at the airport quite a long time before my flight was due, I was able to get on an earlier flight, which had also been delayed. The catch is I would have to carry my bag with me onto the plane as otherwise it probably won't get on the same plane with me. Uh-oh, I hope the security people don't look too closely! Luckily, my last minute-passenger status seemed to include a "low risk" status, so I was able to trot through security quickly and uneventfully.

When I got to Vegas, it just got done raining. The ground was still wet. I think it was one of the four rainy days a year that they get there! After a little SNAFU with the room reservation at The Hard Rock Hotel because of my last-minute status, I had dinner and retired to my room. I was kinda tired so I decided not to do anything en femme. Instead I played some craps. I won $450!

The next day was chock-full of activities at the trade show, at the Mandalay Bay Hotel's cavernous convention hall/conference rooms facility. It was one of those high-tech geeky deals, so babes were in far short supply. Oh well, at least the conference's subject matter was new and highly interesting.

That evening, after a quick dinner and a couple of hours of craps at the Bellagio (gave them some of Hard Rock Hotel's money!), I stopped by a drug store (the Walgreen across Las Vegas Boulevard from the Monte Carlo casino), to buy a make-up "cover stick". In my haste to pack, I had forgotten mine at home! After that I went back to the Hard Rock Hotel for a feminization session at the most leisurely, relaxed, and enjoyable pace. I made sure to do my eye make-up on the heavy/dramatic side, as it is somewhat dark downstairs in the casino. A lighter/day-time level of make-up would appear non-existent in the dark. And we T-girls hate to look like we're not wearing any make-up!

Downstairs in the casino, I wandered around for a while. I took care to have the appropriate sashay in my gait to ensure maximum buzz wherever I go, but not so much sashay that I'd get thrown out of the place! All the idle dealers (those without any players at their table) were suitably intrigued, especially the male ones! More than a couple of players at the craps tables turned and craned their neck after me for a better and longer look. I love it!

I settled down at the single-deck blackjack table. I decided against playing craps. If I hit a big bet, I didn't want to accidentally let out a big cheer in my male voice! Can you imagine? If that happens, the usual raucous cheers on a win would immediately become stunned silence! It'd be so quiet you could probably hear me turning red!

As bad luck would have it, the blackjack dealer, a beautiful girl, speaks not so well English . She said something to me as I sat down. I could barely understand her. This necessitated some back-and-forths between her and I. Somehow I managed to not give myself away to the other players at the table, who were all men.

I quickly blew through a couple hundred bucks. (Who said single-deck blackjack is not stacked so badly in the house's favor?! I guess when a blackjack pays 6-to-5 instead of the usual 3-to-2, the odds is stacked in the house's favor regardless.) However, I did make sure that I bet small enough so my money would last long enough, so I could spend enough time sitting at the table, with my legs crossed and my skirt riding up, showing off the glistening black Wolford pantyhose, kinda like this:

Alas, soon my money was gone, and I had to go find some other source of "amusement". I picked a slot machine near an aisle with lots of foot traffic and settled down to show off my crossed high heeled legs some more! It wasn't long before two guys came by. One of them sat down at the machine right next to mine. As there were plenty of available slot machines, his choice of that one can only mean one thing: he's looking for some "action"! Soon enough, as I hit a big-ish pay-off on my machine, he turned and said to me: "Nice hit!" I smiled shyly but dared not encouraged him any further. When I hit another nice pay-off, again he said: "Alright! I'm rooting for you over here!" Do you think he was trying to pick me up? Do bears sh*t in the woods?

Again, I gave him the smile-but-no-other-reaction routine. He eventually got the signal that he wasn't going to get any further with me so he got up and left, saying "Good luck!" to me. That "encounter" left me parched, so I flagged down a passing cocktail (what a lewd word! "Cock" and "tail"!) waitress and asked for a water. She cheerily complied. I guess my femme voice passed with flying colors!

I eventually got bored with the slot machine so I got up and strolled around the casino and checked out the numerous displays of rock-and-roll and sports memorabilia throughout the casino. They're quite cool and interesting. One of my favorite was an outfit worn by Christina Aguilera in one of her videos, consisting of a halter top and chaps. Wow, that girl is tiny!! I'd never know that looking at her in her pics and videos. Since these displays are scattered throughout the casino, I got to sashay all around and show off to my heart's content. Once again, I found that men are just absolute suckers for short skirt and high heels!

Anyway, L'Oreal has this great line of foundation and powder called "true match". Its display includes a clear flexible plastic template printed with swatches of all the available shades, in translucent color. You hold the template about 1/2" over your wrist and look for the swatch that seems to "disappear"; that is your color. (The plastic template is on a retractable cord, like one of those key chain thingies. You can pull it down (it was at about eye-level) closer to you.)

My color is "W3 Nude Beige", one of the "warm" tones. I have tried the powder on, and it matches my skin tone so perfectly it's as if I'm not wearing any make-up at all!

The last time the bug inspection guy came out, I had considered dressing up as Nicole to meet him. I wonder how often it is that these guys get to deal with a sexy, seductive, sultry siren? If one believes only a fraction of the stories in Penthouse's "Forum", it would appear that such things happen all the time! Maybe I should have contributed to the truth-to-fiction ratio of Penthouse's "Forum" by seducing him and making him cum in his pants!

If I was a bored stay-at-home housewife, I would definitely not be above having a bit of fun greeting maintenance people in sexy outfits and flirting up a storm! Heck, if the guy is really cute and built, I might even go quite a bit further than just flirting!

"Desperate Housewives", here I come!

Anyway, last week, the bug inspection guy was supposed to cum, I mean, come, for another regularly scheduled visit. I seriously considered dressing up as a demure & feminine "Stepford wife", like this:

It would have been so much fun to see the expression on his face when I greet him at the door! After he regains his composure (I would conveniently turn my back on him a little while to give him time to adjust his growing erection to a more comfortable position! ), I would take him around the house, ostensibly to show him all the places where bugs lurk and scare lil' ole me. Of course, that'd be just a pretext to hang around him & tease and torment!

Eventually, you just know that I will have to take the adventure to its logical conclusion: I would just have to sit him down nice and comfy and put on a striptease show he wouldn't soon forget:

Alas, I chickened out at the last minute and decided not to go through with my plan. And good thing too, because, as it turned out, the pest control guy used to work with my neighbor across the street a long time ago and knows him quite well! Holy crap! If I had given the guy a striptease to remember, my neighbor would have heard of it, and what a mess that would be!!! Whew, that was a close one!

• 23 pairs of high-heel closed-toe pumps, black
• 6 pairs of high-heel closed-toe pumps, white
• 14 pairs of high-heel pumps, other colors
• 16 pairs of high-heel open-toe sandals, black
• 7 pairs of high-heel open-toe sandals, white
• 8 pairs of high-heel open-toe sandals, other colors
• 20 pairs of other footwear (boots, mules, slides, etc.), black
• 5 pairs of other footwear (boots, mules, slides, etc.), white
• 9 pairs of other footwear (boots, mules, slides, etc.), other colors

Back seamed stockings are not exactly a common sight around Austin, TX. They're not a common sight anywhere, for that matter! I love their understated-yet-in-your-face sexuality. They project just the right image: that of a self-confident business woman who is all-business one minute, and f*ck-me-on-my-desk wanton the next!

Anyhow, at the e-insistence of my friend JoAnn Rogers, I put on a set of press-on "French tip" nails. I must say they add about 50% to my femininity, but I must also say that I hate wearing them! I had such a hard time doing simple things like pressing the buttons on the car's remote control, picking coins out of my purse, picking my nose. Ooops, just kidding about the nose picking thing! I don't know women live with them. They drive me nuts! Did I mention I hate 'em?

Being a bit sensitive to my fans' complaint that I usually do the same old boring things on my outings, and wanting to little extra excitement on this outing, I ventured to a new venue: a "full service" car wash.

(For my international fans: in the U.S., the usual car wash is one where one would drive one's car into a shed-like structure, whereupon a Rube Goldberg-esque array of cloth brushes and/or water jets would give the car a washing. As machinery is wont to do, the cleaning is usually only "good enough", yielding a not-quite 100% clean car. The wheels, particularly the front ones which are usually dirtier from the brake dust, may not be entirely spotless, for example. A full-service car wash would be something similar, except that the usual machine washing would be preceded by a thorough vacuuming of the interior by a human, and followed by a thorough wiping, with fresh towels, by a whole herd of workers, of the entire car, outside and in, of all its nooks and crannies, including the wheels.)

My arrival at the car wash, or rather my exit from the car:

At this car wash, cars are mechanically pulled through the machine wash which does the usual rinse, scrub, etc. There is a long hallway with glass windows along the wash so one can watch one's vehicle getting washed. The wash process takes little while, so there is plenty more time for me to pose and preen. And as anybody getting their car washed would have to pass through that hallway and then wait more or less the same locale, they serve as a captive audience for my posing and preening . There is a water fountain along that hallway. Guess who took her time sipping from the fountain, bent over, her skirt hiked up in the back showing her stocking tops to all passers-by?

After the wash, the hand-wiping takes a while too (hand wiping of my car, not of me, silly! ), so there is always a bunch of people waiting for their car to be done. Another audience! Most people wait inside in air conditioned comfort. (This being Texas, it can be toasty, even in February.) The waiting area has a big glass wall & doors that look out on to the car wash's courtyard where the cars are lined up getting wiped down. There is a veranda with benches right out side, which is where I parked myself, in full view of all the waiting patron. I played the impatient biz lady waiting for her car, strutting back and forth, looking at the clock, sitting down & crossing my legs (and hiking my skirt up a bit to show my stockings' top!), only to get up & pace some more. My reflection in the glass allowed me to enjoy my own show a bit too!

After the car wash, I skipped (not literally!) across the street to an Asian grocery. A ten-pound bag of rice did not break my nails. Instead it was tugging at my garters & stockings to pull them up that did it: the tip of one nail broke off. I later found the broken piece stuck to one of the garters! Serves me right for doing that in front of the hard working (but now thoroughly distracted!) Mexican men stocking the shelves!

Needing some more grocery, and needing to show off & flirt some more, I headed for a supermarket. There I saw a super-cute senorita in a gray Spandex outfit: low cut top showing the sexy swell of her breasts, super-low rise miniskirt, and black strappy high heel sandals with rhinestones trim. In other words, she was cruisin' for a bruisin' just like I was! She was beautiful and well rounded and had delicious curves, the kinda curves that makes me want to take up sculpting. I followed her around a little bit, pretending to be browsing for the same stuff she's browsing for. I wonder if women get freaked out when another woman (as opposed to a man) follows them around... After a while, she went to check out. Adios, señorita!

Being pumped up (and throbbin' ) from that encounter, I had to find an outlet for my "energy"! That was when I spotted a security camera in a discreet corner of the supermarket, in the plastic wraps & aluminum foil aisle. I milled about for a while, doing lots of squatting & bending over at the waist, to make sure to get the attention of whoever manning the security monitors. Then I "went in for the kill": I slowly hiked up my skirt and took my sweet time adjusting the garters, turning this way and that so my sexy rounded lilly white butt gets shown off too!

This time, I wore a linen/wool skirt suit which I had surreptitiously "rescued" from a bunch of clothes that my wife put aside to be donated to the Salvation Army. I re-hemmed the skirt to be about 5" shorter (of course! What self-respecting sec'y would appear in front of her boss in a skirt that covers her knees?). The blouse is a find from "Ross Dress For Less", but I had converted it to a bodysuit by adding an extension below its hem:

For the first stop, I went to a recycling center to recycle a bunch of old phone books. (The phone company keeps delivering them every year. Who uses phone books in this day and age of the 'Net?!) As I bent over to reach for the phone books in the car's trunk, I was glad to see that I had made the appropriate stir among the volunteers staffing the recycling center. Oops, I guess my skirt rode up a little too far in the back!

After the recycling, I went to do a bit of grocery shopping. OK, so "grocery shopping" is code for "flirting with other grocery shoppers"! Before going to the supermarket (H.E.B. Central Market on Lamar), I dropped into the nearby Bookstop book store to use the restroom. Why, yes, I did use the ladies' room. Why'd you ask? As I was preening in front of the mirror, a woman walked in, glanced at me, smiled the usual friendly Texan smile, and proceeded into a stall. I can't ask for a better validation of my pass-ability!

In front of the bookstore is an elevated walkway that's kind of like a deck, about chest height up from the parking lot. A group of carpenters were working on replacing the planks in the deck. They were down at parking lot level, hammering away. I had noticed them on the way in to the bookstore. On exiting the bookstore, I proceeded along the walkway, ever so casually and at a leisurely slow pace, making sure to let them have a nice peek up my fencenet-stockinged legs. As I passed by, a patch of hushed awe skipped along the pool of hammering noises, like a stone skipping on a pool's surface. Cool!

First stop was a Starbucks (for Austinites: it's on 2222 & MoPac). As I was approaching the door, ack! I see a business acquaintance coming the other way!!! We had been in several long business meetings together before (with me in male guise of course). He looked at me but his expression did not indicate recognition. I quickly feigned raising a hand to preen my hair, hiding my face. We passed each other without further incident. Whew! Maybe I should rethink visiting these places! I might run into someone who knows me much better and who would recognize me. OTOH, it's long been my contention that when en femme with full make-up, a person is almost completely unrecognizable as his male self. This incident somewhat proves that theory.

After getting my espresso drink (this time, a triple espresso w/ 1" of hot water) I went to a Costco gas station to get some gas. The station has twenty pumps in islands of four each. It was mid-morning, so it was fairly crowded: all the better for showing off my legs to the clientele when I slowly step out of my car!!! I took care to flash lots of legs, of course!

The next stop was the post office. (I know, I know, same ole shit all the time!!!) A gentleman was standing at one of the pedestal, going through his mails. I pretended to drop my keys right in front of him and then bend over to pick them up! The rustling of his mail sorting seemed to stop for a few seconds!

Then it's off to the Office Depot to buy supplies for production of my new CD. The geeky guys there were happy to see me and were VERY helpful!

There is a Ross Dress For Less just next door to Office Depot, so after depositing my CD supplies in the car, I sauntered back across the parking lot over to it, showing off to a few more passing cars. I loaded up on a zillion new panties & bras. I don't have the nerve to buy undies when en drab so I sometimes take advantage of these en femme outings to buy undies. The dressing attendant frowned at my attempt to bring panties into the dressing room. He said: "Our policy is to not allow these in the dressing room. It's a... health hazard." Of course he meant "hygiene risk" or something like that, but I got the idea. So, girls, if you go shopping en femmefor undies, save yourself some embarrassment and don' try to take panties into the dressing room!

Then it was off to the supermarket for some grocery shopping. I love pretending to check out the stuff in the freezer cases, while admiring my reflection in their glass doors. While I was standing getting some honey out of a bulk container, I did one of those things where women would slip a foot out of their shoe and flex it. The honey took forever to flow into my container, so I had plenty of time to stage a nice sexy foot show. I think that attracted more than a few guys!

• This is the easiest...
• This will take a few minutes...
• This will make you want to tear your hair out!