To say I was out of my comfort zone would be a massive understatement. Yet here I was, at the rear entrance to a large converted warehouse wearing nothing short of whore clothes underneath my camel coloured mac style jacket. My heels were new, only purchased this morning. They featured a criss cross buckled fasteners with small padlocks. The key safely in my purse.
My legs were covered in sheer, seamed black stockings held in place by a plain and robust suspender belt, each leg attached by four lace suspender straps. A full black sheer pair of panties kept my caged cock in place and snug. A black with white trimmed corset helped shape my waist and boost my small pert breasts.
Like I said, everything about my appearance, makeup and hair included, shouted cock whore and whilst I was nervous as hell, I was also massively turned on. The mac just about covered my modesty but this also gave a seedy style to my overall look. The walk from the hotel resulted in many a stare from men and women alike, head down I concentrated on walking and not falling over in these heels.
Checking my phone for the address, I re-read the message.
"Princess Pavilion, rear staff entrance. Come dressed as discussed. Press the button marked F4. Take the lift marked service lift to floor 4. Await further instructions."
The text was from Cathy, a slim attractive woman I had met by chance yesterday when I was at a local bar in the gay quarter of the city I was working in for the next few weeks. I was looking around the bars not to hookup but instead to soak up the atmosphere in a new city away from people that knew me.
Cathy caught my eye and we started chatting over a drink and talked for some time. Before I knew it I was opening up about me the closeted crossdresser, my fantasies and previous experiences. There was no harm talking to this woman as it's not like I'm in the city often. Cathy didn't offer much in return but was a great listener. It turns out she was involved in promotions and hospitality of all sorts and often had artists and other creatives needing staff to serve drinks, food and look after guests or visitors.
Whilst I wasn't looking extra work as my nine to five in the city was busy enough, I was intrigued by the type of work she was involved in. She was particularly keen to see photos of me dressed, how and when I did it and whether I was active in the scene. I answered the questions honestly and even provided my girl name of Dawn. The conversation flowed well and I felt relaxed to be talking so openly with a stranger about this.
Towards the end of our chat Cathy asked if I'd like to help out at an art exhibition in a warehouse the next day. Sceptical, I was hesitant but after talking more and looking at some of her other events online, I offered to help out.
"There is a certain dress code for staff involved.", she said.
"It requires you to be feminine and fully dressed as it's in keeping with the artists displays. Are you okay with that?"
I casually said yes although deep down I was massively turned on by the thought of it.
We swapped numbers and went our way. A few hours later I received a few messages from her and pictures of what I needed to wear to help out. Luckily, other than the heels I had everything I needed as I always take my feminine clothes on work trips out of town to dress up and have solo fun.
Here, some ten hours later, I'm fully made up, dressed and ready to help Cathy out.
Pressing the F4 button at the door, the buzzer releases the catch and I walk into the corridor. I see the lifts to the left and press the up button on the service lift. Within seconds the doors open and I step inside.
My stomach turns with both excitement and nerves. What was I doing here? I could easily be sat in my hotel room, post work, sat in lingerie idly playing with toys on myself while I chat to strangers online.
The lift doors open and I'm facing a single wooden door with a single wooden chair next to it. On the chair is some cloth.
My phone blips in my handbag and I reach my red nail varnished hands to check the text.
"Take a seat on the chair and place the blindfold on. I won't be a minute."
Why the blindfold? Perhaps there was something secret about the exhibition so reluctantly, I sit as gracefully as possible, bag on my knee and I secure the blindfold over my eyes.
After a few minutes, the wooden door besides me opens. I hear Cathy's voice.
