Prologue: This story is freestanding but do read my biography section in literotica that would let you know the kind of individual I am and set the context of the story. I am a submissive crossdresser who occasionally meets compatible individuals for fun. I met this man at a fetish website and I became his slut. I have to call him "Sir", the following story describes my first public outing with "Sir". I love receiving comments and feedback so please drop in your thoughts after reading the story.
Sir is a strict and demanding master, and rather punctilious I should say. Well before two weeks prior to our date of meeting, Sir started to give me instructions on how I should present myself to him for our meeting. He wanted me dolled up in that tarty look, with heavy makeup, gloss, glittery eye shadows and thick eye liners. He chose an outrageous blonde wig for me with permed hair. I would have to wear a white sheer blouse which would make my black bra more obvious. To make me look even more like a cheap middle aged woman, I had to keep my blouse unbuttoned low enough, so that the junction of the two cups of my bra showed. For shoes, I am instructed to wear my black dorsy pumps with five inch heels.
In conformance with the orders received, I had to wear a black designer thong panty. But when Sir said that I should wear my little red skirt, I panicked. It was a pleated chiffon skirt and was pretty tiny. Going out in such an apparel in public would be a risky proposition for a crossdresser like me and could attract a lot of unnecessary attention towards me. I tried to reason with Sir and made him know the reason for my inhibition. However, Sir, in his characteristic cavalier style, dispelled my concerns, saying it would be fun and said that he would be there with me in public to take care of any unsavoury situation. I had to acquiesce.
On the day of the meeting I arrived well on time. I parked in the public square and had to walk quite a few yards down the plaza to the shopping complex whose top floor housed the normandin restaurant where we were supposed to meet. It was a nice beautiful day with fine weather. But I was feeling rather uncomfortable. And it was because my red skirt was just too small and flimsy!! It was so small that I was afraid that even the slightest draft of wind would raise my skirt up and my black panties would be visible for all to see. As i walked down the plaza, I kept fidgeting with my red skirt, trying to pull down its hem or smoothening out imaginary creases in the front.
After tottering around in my heels for few minutes i finally managed to reach the restaurant. Sir had already made the bookings and a corner two sitter table was reserved for the two of us. As the waiter ushered me to the table, i noticed that the other patrons of the restaurant were all looking well dressed and dapper. This made me acutely aware how minimally I was dressed and i immediately felt self consciousness and awkward.
Pursuant to the instructions of Sir, i had to sit with my skirt raised up so that my buttocks are in direct contact with the cold and sticky leather of my chair and my legs wide apart. Fortunately, the floral floor length table cloth managed to hide my nakedness from the other customers. It was well over half an hour and still no sign of Sir. Meanwhile, a man who was eyeing me from the moment i took my seat walked uninvited and sat on the chair opposite to me.
"Whats your name Madam"?. I sensed a sarcastic inflection in the last word. "Jessica" I said matter of factly and looked the other way. My demeanour clearly indicating that he was uninvited and should leave. However, he seemed to obtuse to take the hint. "I know you are not a real woman". (Big deal, i did-not even bother to tone down my husky voice). I just managed a half smile and once again looked towards the entrance making it clear to him that I was expecting someone.
However, nothing seemed to put off this uninvited cumbersome person. He started poking into my privacy, asking me indiscreet sexual questions which must have made my face red inspite of my heavy make up. I barely answered his questions, hoping to discourage him. In the middle of his interrogatories, he casually placed his hand on my thighs, moved his hands up and tried to feel my sex. I was surprised by this lascivious conduct and did-not know how to react.