Discovery

Don, like most men, loved fishnet stockings. Inhaling sharply, he drank in the vision of long, shapely legs above stiletto heels, and his eyes lingered admiringly on the tight leather miniskirt encasing  generous thighs.

Unblinking blue eyes, circled by heavily mascared lashes, stared back, sizing him up. "I think you'll do", a voice said.

Checking the mirror once more, he adjusted the seams of his stockings, ran a hastily licked fingertip across a dark brow capturing an errant hair, and decided he was ready. Then letting himself into his Mercedes convertible, Don headed for the salon for his weekly treat.

He was sitting there, half festooned in hair rollers, when it happened. The redhead, under the dryer next to him, had allowed her eyes to wander up his stockinged legs, in careless scrutiny, when suddenly they saw each other. Caught in the act, she'd jumped visibly.

A look stole across her face, one that he had seen so many times before. Realisation, swiftly followed by the horror of no longer knowing how to behave.

This was always his lot as a cross-dresser. Life would be so much simpler if he could conquer the addiction, but the fascination and the risks were overpowering.

Few friends knew his secret and they guarded it well. There was more for him to lose than merely a reputation, since he ran his own business, successfully. Don was resigned to other people's reactions -- always so predictable. As Dawn, he posed a threat to the rest of the world and it changed towards him.

This time was far, far worse than ever before. Guilt, sorrow, despair, all sank into insignificance, to be replaced by utter, overwhelming panic.

Steeling himself to face his neighbour, he looked slowly towards the redhead and nervously greeted his secretary.

DJBS