I brought my outfit with me from home and checked into my room early. The reception was at seven, and I was in by three. I showered and shaved in the room and then did my makeup. My green eyes were framed in an abundance of mascara and my lips, bright cherry red. I put on my wig, my leopard undergarments, my dress, stockings and high heels. After a dash of perfume, I set out from my room and rode the elevator to the lobby. One guy stepped on and was checking me out, which was my first test. I passed and sighed a great relief. I was wearing a pair of sunglasses that disguised me a bit more but left my big false eyelashes in full view. I confidently strutted threw the hotel lobby catching a few stares along the way, but I figured out of admiration more than suspicion. A couple wolf whistles confirmed this. I was as high as a kite with the adrenaline rush from this adventure. I even walked into a few of the fashion shops in the area and the women in the stores seemed none the wiser. There is a real sense of power that comes from a dress. The feeling that all eyes are on you and want you is a thrill. I had done bungee jumping, rock climbing, even skydiving and this was right up there.
I hadn't noticed how much time had past and started back to my room. It was getting late so I got out of my female cloths and quickly washed off my makeup. I hurried into my male attire, grey jacket and pants with blue shirt and silver tie, and headed for the convention room for the reception. My heart was still pounding from the excitement I had experienced. I did my required greetings with the chief editor and a few of the other writers then made my way to the bar. The social aspect of these events was almost plastic. I would spend the rest of the evening waiting for my queue to leave while drinking as much as possible. I would however have the recent memory of my walk in feminine attire to relish privately for the rest of the night.
After my second or third drink, a stunning creature shattered my solitude.
