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Natalie by Emily Ross [email protected] I'm always anxious when I'm waiting for my suitcase to appear at an airport after a flight. What if it's been sent to the wrong destination? Why does everyone else's luggage seem to arrive before mine? I was hot and sticky after a nine hour transatlantic flight. Although it was technically still the morning, thanks to the crossing of time zones, I had been up for hours. I was tired and jet-lagged. I just wanted my suitcase. Where was it? Around me all sorts of people were picking up their suitcases from the carousel and wheeling them off to customs. I was in a bit of hurry too. I was going to meet my cyberpal, Kerry, who I had never met except over the Net. There was hardly anybody left now from my flight. Then I realised that I was the only one left. No more suitcases were appearing. I waited a few minutes. Then I accosted an airline employee. He said he would find out for me and left. I waited another ten minutes. He returned and said that all the luggage from my flight had been unloaded. He said that the suitcase would probably turn up shortly. I could wait for it or if I left a contact number, the airline would deliver it for me. I gave him Kerry's address and phone number, and headed through customs to meet her. I was worried that she might have given up on me by now, but no. There she was, standing by the gate wearing a smart trouser suit, holding a card with my name on. She looked just like the photo she had e-mailed me. No, she looked even prettier. She was tall and elegant, well dressed and attractive. Yes, I thought, I'm going to enjoy staying with her. We said hello. I apologised for being late, explained that my luggage as missing and that I had left her details with the airline. She told me not to worry. She was sure the airline would soon find it and send it to her apartment. We headed off to the car park, got into her saloon and soon were heading to the small town about 50 miles away where she lived. Within a few minutes she had shown me around the two-bedroom flat and had the kettle on for a cup of coffee. "I bet you could do with a hot bath to freshen up and a change of clothing while I make lunch," she said after we drank our coffee. "Oh, I forgot about your luggage. The shops are all shut for the holiday so you can't buy anything. I suppose there might be something of mine you could wear, Jonathan." My face must have been a picture because she added, "Don't look so worried. I mean a T-shirt and jeans. Anyway your luggage will turn up soon." She fetched a towelling dressing gown and told me to go to the bathroom, put it on and bring her my clothes which she would wash. A few minutes later, I was lying in the tub, soaking away my cares and the dirt accumulated during the journey. Kerry had been really nice and friendly. Just like she had sounded on the chat line. I just wanted my luggage to arrive. I got out of the bath, put on the dressing gown. Kerry was sitting in the living room looking at a magazine. "Any sign of my luggage yet?" I asked her. "No, so I've put out some clothes on your bed. I hope they fit; they were the biggest and most masculine I could find." "Thanks," I said. I went into my bedroom. On the bed was a pair of jeans, a baggy long sleeved T-shirt, some plain knickers and a pair of black opaque tights. Tights? I didn't expect that. Still no-one would see. I put on the knickers and tights, pulled on the T-shirt and tried to get myself into the jeans. They were a little bit too short and much too tight. Still by breathing in and with a lot of effort I managed to do the button up. I stepped into the black loafer shoes I had arrived in and examined myself in the mirror. I looked OK if slightly androgynous in the tight denims. I went to show Kerry. "Very nice," she said. "Sorry about the pantyhose - I don't wear socks." Pantyhose? I've always thought that a strange name for tights. "Oh, that's OK," I replied. "No-one will notice. These jeans are a bit tight, though. Can't I put my ones back on? They're not that dirty." "Sorry, too late. They're already in the wash. You'll have to put up with those ones." Kerry dished out the lunch and we sat in the kitchen to eat it. All the time the waist of the jeans was getting tighter and tighter. By the end of the meal it was becoming unbearable. "Kerry," I asked, "I can't wear these jeans. They're much too tight around the waist and the crotch. They're beginning to hurt. I don't suppose you've got anything else, with an elasticated waist. Have you any track-suit bottoms?" I wasn't too hopeful as I knew Kerry wasn't the athletic sort. "No," she replied, "but I'll have a look in my wardrobe. She went away and came back in a few minutes. "I have got some things you could try with a bigger waist, Jon," she said, "but I don't think you'll like them." "Why not?" "They're skirts." In her hands she was holding three coat-hangers. She held out the first. It was a 'sensible' calf length navy blue skirt. "I wear this to work. It's a lovely colour," she added. She held out the second, a tight, long black pencil skirt with a slit at the back. Then she showed me the third, a pleated tartan kilt. "Well," she said, "what do you think?" What did I think? It seemed a bit humiliating, thinking of wearing a skirt in front of this girl I had just met. A girl who I quite fancied! What choice did I have? These jeans are killing me, squashing my balls and squeezing my stomach. It can do no harm to try them on. One of them is bound to me more comfortable. I'm already wearing her knickers and tights. Anyway my suitcase is sure to turn up soon. Kerry was looking at me questioningly. "Well? Do you want to try them on?" "OK," I said sheepishly. I took the three skirts and headed into my bedroom. I quickly undid the button on the jeans. My stomach seemed to sigh with relief. I stepped into the 'sensible' skirt but it was just as tight. Then I tried the pencil skirt. It was much more comfortable around the waist but bulged at the front where skirts aren't supposed to bulge. Too embarrassing I thought. I tried on the kilt. It fitted perfectly. I did up the zip and smoothed the skirt down. It was shorter than the other two, about three or four inches above the knee. I put on my shoes and stood and looked at myself in the mirror. It didn't look as bad as I had feared. I liked the way the pleats made it flare out around my hips, giving me a shapely appearance. My legs looked good in the black tights. Yes, I would wear the kilt, I decided. It was much more comfortable than the jeans. I took a deep breath. Now to show Kerry. What will she think of me choosing the shortest skirt to wear? I took another breath and stepped back into the living room. "Very nice. Very nice," said Kerry. "I thought you might like the kilt." I didn't like the kilt, but I didn't have any choice. I jokingly paraded up he room did a twirl and walked back again, sitting down on the sofa. The skirt rode up and revealed more of my thighs. I hurriedly adjusted my position and tried to pull the hem down to retain my dignity - well what little dignity I had left in the circumstances. "You're going to have to remember to smooth down your skirt before you sit down, Jon, and sit with your knees together." I adjusted my position on the sofa again. "And you'll need to wear this." She picked up something and passed it to me where I sat. It was a nylon waist slip, white with a lacy trim. "It stops your skirt sticking to your pantyhose." I nodded as if I knew this already and obediently stood up and stepped into the petticoat, pulling it up to my waist under the kilt with as much dignity as I could muster. I pulled the kilt back down. It was only about an inch or two longer than the slip. I self-consciously smoothed the kilt over my backside and sat down, ensuring that my knees were locked together. "Very good," Kerry commented. "Well done." We sat and chatted for the rest of the afternoon, planning what to do during my week staying with Kerry. Kerry suggested we stay in all day even when my luggage arrived, as I was probably too tired. I agreed. We planned trips to the shops, the beach and some local beauty spots. I was expecting my suitcase to be delivered at any minute. Needless to say, it didn't turn up all afternoon. It felt strange at first walking about in the skirt, but I found I got used to the swish on the slip as I walked surprisingly easily and soon forgot all about it. If anything I was shocked to find I was quite relaxed about going round the flat in a skirt! Around half past six I was getting hungry again with no obvious sign of a meal being prepared. Kerry said rather casually. "Oh, I forgot to tell you. I've booked a table for two at my favourite restaurant. Half past seven." "Tonight? But, Kerry, what can I wear? My suitcase hasn't turned up. Are my jeans dry yet?" "No. I'm afraid not, I checked them only half an hour ago and they were still saturated." "Then I can't go. It's out of the question. You'll have to cancel." "Don't be silly, Jonathan, of course you can go. It's not easy to get a table there. If I cancel, they'll never accept a booking from me again. You can wear a wig and a bit of foundation to hide your facial hair. It's very subdued lighting in there. No-one will ever know." "No." "I'll do all the talking." "No. Will the place be full?" "Yes, but that'll mean you won't stand out." "No." We argued for a few minutes. She obviously wanted to go. I was the guest. I gave in. I borrowed a razor and shaved. Kerry found the wig - dark brown, about my hair colour and shoulder length. I put I on and then sat still while she did my face. Kerry said the foundation on my face wasn't enough. I had to have on lipstick, eye shadow, eye-liner and mascara as well. To complete the transformation perfume was squirted on my neck and my finger nails were painted a bright scarlet. Kerry put all the make-up in a little handbag that she gave me to carry. "You may need to make running repairs," she told me. "There," she said, "you look very convincing." I stood up and looked in the mirror. I had to agree she was right. "No one will ever tell," she added. Anyone in the restaurant car-park about seven thirty would have seen two women getting out of a car. One was a confident attractive young lady, looking very smart in a black dress and high heels. The other was a plain, flat-chested, tall figure in a tartan skirt, denim jacket and flat shoes. This second girl appeared very shy and nervous, looking down at the ground to avoid eye-contact. This was me and I felt awful. We walked slowly into the restaurant. As promised, Kerry did all the talking. "Good evening, Armando," she said to the waiter as we went in. "I've booked a table for two for half seven." "Yes, Miss Watson," "This is my friend, Natalie," she added, referring to me. Armando took my manicured hand, lifted to his mouth and kissed it. Ugh! I smiled sweetly, hiding my real feelings, trying to avoid eye-contact. "Delighted to meet you. Let me show you to your table." Armando fawned over me, pulling my chair out and helping me sit down. I whispered a quiet "Thank you." "You've made one conquest already," said Kerry after he had gone. "Rubbish," I whispered. "I bet he does that for all the girls who come in here." Girls? Did I include myself in that? I was nervous. The place was nearly full I imagined everyone was looking at me. Staring. Kerry was right though. The lights were low and everyone was only interested in themselves and their meal. They paid no attention to the funny girl in the tartan skirt. I calmed down a little. Kerry ordered the food. Nothing untoward happened while we ate our meal. When we had ordered coffee, Kerry suggested I visited the 'rest room'. I whispered that I didn't need to go but Kerry insisted that I powder my nose. The penny dropped that I needed to restore my make- up before we left so I got up, trying not to draw any attention to myself and headed for the ladies. I breathed a sigh of relief when I found it was empty. 'So far, so good,' I thought. I checked that I looked OK in the mirror. A dab of foundation, a touch up of my lips and I was ready to risk the world again. No-one seemed to have 'read' me; I was getting more confident. "Fancy a drink in a bar here, Natalie?" asked Kerry. "Don't be stupid. Let's go home." Kerry got the bill, paid and we left heading straight for the car park. When we got back to Kerry's flat, she offered to get me a drink and I sat down on the sofa. I certainly needed a drink. Soon she arrived with two glasses and sat down next to me, very close. Our nylon covered thighs were almost touching. I enjoyed her being so close and had I been otherwise attired I might made a pass at her. She congratulated me on my evening as Natalie and complimented me on my good looks. I felt slightly embarrassed but I was becoming more and more comfortable with my new look. "There's a message on the answer-phone. They've found your suitcase and it'll be here in the morning," Kerry told me. This was a double relief; firstly to get my property back and secondly to stop being Natalie, although this had been easier than I had feared. Then I might have a chance with Kerry. A bit later Kerry said, "I think it's time to turn in. It's been a very long day for you. I've put a nightie on your bed for you. You'll find some stuff to remove your make-up on the chest of drawers. I'll see you in the morning. Goodnight." She stood up and I stood up too. Suddenly she gave me a hug and reaching up, gave me a big kiss on the lips. "Goodnight and thanks." "Thank you," I replied, "goodnight." The hug was a bit stronger than between two girl-friends. Girls normally kiss each other on the cheek, not the lips. My mind was a flutter as I went into my room to get ready for bed. Did Kerry fancy me? Did she fancy me dressed like this? I cleaned off the make-up, stripped and put on the nightie, which was short, lacy and very feminine. After I had been to the bathroom, I climbed into bed; tired, happy and confused. Kerry came into my bedroom the following morning. She drew the curtains. "Time to get up. It's ten thirty. Your suitcase has arrived." My suitcase! I quickly remembered the events of the day before and recalled exactly what I was wearing in bed; a very feminine nightie! I stumbled out of bed relieved that my luggage had appeared at last and went to the bathroom. I washed and shaved and made my way back to my room. Kerry had put my case on the bed. I tore off the sticky security label that prevents anyone opening the case without being detected, found the key, undid the padlock and unfastened the zip. I opened the case and stood up in horror. It wasn't my case! At the top of the case I saw a black dress and a pair of black stiletto shoes. "Kerry," I called out, "This isn't my case." Kerry came in. "What do you mean?" "This case isn't mine." "But it had your name on the label. And the security sticker. It must be yours." "It looks like mine, yes. Same colour. Same labels. My key opened the padlock but it's not my stuff inside. Look." Kerry looked at the black dress. "Have you looked underneath?" "No. I didn't like to. It's not my stuff." "Your stuff isn't underneath?" "No. Well I don't know." "Let's see." Slowly she started to unpack the case. Each item she held up to the light as if to inspect it and then placed it carefully on the bed. First she took out the black dress, which seemed rather short. Then the shoes. Next a long brown skirt. Then a white top. A sponge bag that looked very much like my one. A make up bag, a pink mini-skirt, a bright pink swimsuit, long black skirt, a blue top. Two cotton summer frocks. A red top in a stretchy material. A hand-bag. Some jewellery. Two skimpy nighties. A white dress. A long black skirt. A black top. A blue mini-skirt. Nothing like a pair of trousers unless you include denim hot pants! A pair of court shoes with a smaller heel. Some tights and stockings. A couple of bras and some panties. Some silky lingerie. A blonde wig. A black basque and then a pair of breast forms. The clothes all seemed very tasteful. There was nothing I didn't like or at least I would not have wanted my girl-friend to wear. "Jon. Are you sure all these clothes aren't yours?" "What do you mean? Do I look the sort of guy to wear these?" I pointed at the pile of clothes. "At the moment, Jon, yes. You're wearing a frilly nightie. Your finger-nails are bright scarlet. These clothes are yours, aren't they?" "No." "They must belong to a man. Why else would there be breast forms there?" "I don't even know what breast forms are. What are they?" "They're what a transvestite stuffs down his bra to make him the right shape. Be honest, Jon, they are yours aren't they? There's nothing to be ashamed of." "They're not mine. I'd never worn a skirt before yesterday." "OK, but look on the bright side. You won't have to borrow my clothes any more." "What do you mean?" "Well these are all British size 14. That's your size." "Don't be stupid." "What else do you suggest?" "Well, go back to the airline and complain." "How can you? The security label was unbroken. They delivered your suitcase here as instructed. They didn't know what was in it. I suggest you dress as Natalie and come and have some breakfast." Now I bet you're wondering why I didn't just find the clothes Kerry had washed, put them on and head off to the shops with my Visa card. The truth is I'd forgotten all about them. Also it had been fun becoming Natalie yesterday. Kerry even seemed to fancy me like that and perhaps I wanted another go. It would save me the trouble of removing the nail varnish. "By the way," she added. "You'd better shave your legs." I looked down at my hairy legs poking out from the bottom of my nightie. "Go and put the kettle on for some coffee. I'll be there in ten minutes,!" I said giving in. "Make that fifteen. Girls never get dressed in a hurry," said Kerry as she left. I slipped out to the bathroom again, found the razor and carefully shaved my legs and armpits. I made sure I was careful - I didn't want to cut myself! Back in the bedroom, I looked at the clothes. Another day in a skirt, I thought. It occurred to me that I might have to spend the whole holiday dressed as Natalie. I'd better make myself look presentable. A girl always has to look her best. Let's make the most of it, I thought. I went over to the bed and looked at my new-found possessions. In for a penny I thought and put on a pair of silk panties. I chose the most conservative outfit, the black top and the long brown skirt. I took off the nightie, slipped the basque around me and with some difficulty did it up. I put on a pair of black stockings and fastened them to the basque's suspenders. I stuffed the two breast forms down the basque and adjusted the shape. When satisfied I put on a full length petticoat and then the top and skirt I had chosen. Finally I stepped into the lower of the two pairs of shoes and tried walking around the room. The clothes, even the shoes fitted perfectly. I studied myself in the mirror. I needed a feminine touch - yes a necklace. A dab of foundation, a touch of lipstick. I'm not putting an itchy wig on again. How did she put that mascara on? Like this, I think. That's not too bad. It's quite easy really. Eye shadow. Is that too much? It looks all right. Eye liner. That's a bit messy. I'll have to start again. No wonder women take so long to get ready. It's much easier to put on than take off. Now I'm ready for another go. Careful. That's better. Now the other eye. Not bad. I had spent twenty minutes getting ready - longer than I had thought. I stood up and admired myself in the full length mirror. Nice. Feminine. Quite pretty, really. Who could tell that I was not what I seemed? I was quite proud of myself. I looked good and although this hadn't been my idea, I felt good too. What would Kerry think? I stepped into the kitchen, trying to take small feminine steps and trying to be careful in my new shoes. "You look gorgeous," Kerry commented as I went in, "all the blokes will fancy you." "Thank you," I said, blushing. The person I wanted to fancy me was the one who had encouraged me into dressing like this. She stood up, came towards me and gave me a big kiss on the lips. "Stop it, you'll smudge my make-up," I said. Kerry laughed. "How do you feel?" "Very comfortable really. The clothes all fit well and feel very good. This skirt is a lovely colour and I really like the pattern." "Yes, it hangs really well on you. Tall girls look great in long skirts. Coffee? Or juice?" We were chatting away like two girls. "Your waist looks very slim. Are you wearing that basque?" I nodded. "Is it comfortable?" I nodded again. "I can hardly feel it," I lied. "Are you wearing stockings?" "That's a bit personal isn't it?" "You are! I thought you would! Some girls say they are terribly uncomfortable, but I've never found that. I hope you find them all right. Go on let's see them then." "No." I was playing hard to get. "Come on, just a little flash." "No, I'm shy." I was really playing hard to get. "Just a tiny flash." "OK. Just a tiny flash." I wasn't playing that hard to get. I was quite proud of my long legs. I might as well show them off. I bent down and plucked the hem of my skirt and slowly straightened lifting my skirt and petticoat until my suspenders were showing. Then I let go. "You've got very nice legs." "Thank you - so have you. Are you wearing stockings too?" I was amazed at myself. Is this the sort of question to ask a girl you've only just met? "Yes. Do you want to see?" Without waiting for a reply Kerry lifted her skirt in the same manner that I had. She really had nice legs. After breakfast, Kerry told me of her plan for the day. "I've made a picnic. I thought we could drive to a beauty spot about 5 miles away. It's usually deserted. We could have lunch there, perhaps go for a little walk and then go for a drive and come back here for dinner." "Fine." I was excited but nervous about going out as Natalie in broad daylight so the idea of a deserted beauty sport seemed attractive. We packed the picnic and a few bags in the boot of the car and headed off to the beauty spot. Away from the air-conditioning of the house, it was getting very warm. The basque was naturally tight, the suspenders were beginning to feel less than comfortable and I was beginning to regret wearing the woollen top and the calf-length skirt. When we arrived at our destination I was relieved to see that ours was the only car in the car park, but when we got out of the car it was even hotter. Kerry was wearing a long skirt and jacket and also looked hot. "It's too hot," she said, "I've brought a change of clothing for both of us. We'd better change now." She looked in a carrier-bag she had put in the car and pulled out the pale pink summer frock that had been in my suitcase and a pair of natural colour tights and passed them to me. The frock seemed very short. It was a good job the place was deserted. I wasn't quite ready to wear a mini-dress. With no-one else about I stripped off the long skirt, black top, petticoat, shoes and stockings and detached the velcroed suspenders from the basque. Kerry had stripped too a few yards away. It was difficult to take my eyes off her beautiful body. I watched as she slipped on a short cotton dress. I looked away as I felt she was aware I was staring at her and pulled the dress over my head. I pulled it down, did up the buttons at the front and smoothed it down. Like all the other clothes it fitted perfectly but it was a bit short. I put on the tights and put my shoes back on. "How do I look?" said Kerry. Her cream floral print dress too was quite short and she was wearing white ankle socks. She was brushing her long hair. "Gorgeous," I said. She did look gorgeous too. "Here, do you want to borrow my brush?" She handed me her brush and while I was brushing my hair, she took her make-up out from her hand-bag and re-did her face. I took this as a signal to do the same. The two of us girls were standing in a deserted car-park powdering our noses. It must have looked comical if there had been anyone else there to see us. "Can you carry the picnic basket if I carry the rugs?" Kerry asked and we set out to walk to grassy spot by the river about 200 yards away. Here Kerry spread out the rugs and we sat down as comfortably as we could. I tried very hard to be dignified and to keep my knees together but it wasn't easy, however Kerry didn't criticise so I couldn't have been too bad. We ate the picnic and shared a bottle of wine. I had most, Kerry explaining that as driver she couldn't drink too much. It was very hot. When we had finished eating, Kerry packed up the rubbish in the basket and sat down again right behind me. Once again she was sitting very close - too close? She started to massage my shoulders from behind. I felt really relaxed as she did it. I wanted to turn round and hug her. Was this friendly? Platonic? I did turn round and hugged her. Soon we were cuddling. Then we were lying down snogging and groping. She had her hand up my dress and I had my hand down hers. It was beautiful. When the kissing stopped I asked, "Do you really like me looking like this?" "I can feel that underneath that little pink number you're all man." I smiled. This was fun but we didn't go any further. We walked back to the car holding hands. Back in the car we had another kiss before she started the engine and began a tour of the area. "Kerry," I said after a while, "you set this up, didn't you?" "Set what up?" "The business of me dressing like this." I motioned to my little pink dress. "What makes you think that?" "Well yesterday you made me wear tights - pantyhose - saying you'd got no socks, but now you're wearing socks." "That's er because," she seemed to hesitate, "I er didn't think these white socks went with your shoes. The black pantyhose looked much better and they wouldn't have showed if you hadn't decided to put a skirt on." "Because you had no trousers to fit me. Then this morning you made me shave my legs and the next thing I know is that I'm wearing a little pink mini- dress that's practically indecent." I could feel a tear welling up in my eye. "I haven't made you do anything." "Last night you made me go to that restaurant to be leered at by that greasy Armando. You have set all this up haven't you?" "You're not serious are you? Do you really think I kidnapped your luggage, removed all your clothes and replaced them with what you're wearing now without breaking the security seal on your suitcase while you were with me all the time? It's impossible." She was right. It was impossible. But someone had done it. Kerry's denial seemed very plausible. Too plausible? If it was Kerry she had obviously practised what she was going to say. I could feel the tear rolling down my cheek. I was turning into a girl. I found a tissue in my handbag and dabbed at my cheek with it. Turning into a girl? Then why did my cheek feel so rough? I noticed some of my mascara had smudged onto the tissue. What did I look like? Kerry tried to be sympathetic. "Look, I'm sorry if this has upset you. Why don't we just go shopping now? If we went to the mall, there are a lot of clothes shops there, men's clothes shops. We could soon find a few things for you to wear." My first thought was to say yes, please, but I hesitated. I couldn't go to the mall looking like this, tears streaming down my face, my make-up ruined, my stubble starting to show but worst of all wearing an indecently short dress that would attract everyone's attention. "Let's just go home," I sniffed, "so I can calm down. We can go to the mall later when I've composed myself." "OK" By the time we got back to Kerry's flat I had calmed down. I had checked my face in my little mirror and found it wasn't as bad as I'd feared. A few moments repair work, a little more foundation to hide any facial growth and I was beginning to look human again. It's not easy doing make- up in a car is it? Once back at the flat, I headed straight for the bathroom, shaved and did my make-up for the fourth time that day. I studied myself in the long mirror. The dress was short but it was a lovely colour and it did suit my figure. I was ready to go to the mall now, but I would have to change into something else. This dress felt really comfortable. I didn't really want to change, it was just that I didn't really want to draw attention to myself. I felt pretty tired. Perhaps we'll put the mall off until tomorrow. I didn't mind too much dressing like this for just one more day. I suggested not going shopping till tomorrow to Kerry and she agreed. I kept the pink dress on for the rest of the afternoon, hardly noticing it. Then Kerry told me that she would be cooking dinner and we would both have to get dressed up. I already was dressed up remember but who was I to argue. "I'll be wearing my LBD," she said, "perhaps you should wear yours." LBD? Oh, she means little black dress. "OK, that sounds a good idea." I changed into the black mini-dress, black tights and - wait for it- black stilettos. The shoes were very uncomfortable and at first impossible to walk in but they looked so sexy. Kerry was similarly attired in black mini-dress, black tights and black stilettos. We had a very enjoyable evening, kissing just a little. I completely forgot what I was wearing. The next morning after breakfast, it was off to the mall as agreed to get me some real clothes. Kerry mentioned the names of a few shops which sold jeans, shirts, etc. I wasn't quite sure what I was going to do about trying them on - I thought I'd just pick up something I knew was my size and quietly take it to the cashier. I was planning to get quite a few items and was relieved that my credit card and signature only showed my initials. After all I was wearing a calf length black skirt and a feminine white top, both chosen so that I was inconspicuous. We parked in the car park and walked into the shopping area. The first shop we saw was a ladies clothes shop, I suppose the equivalent of Next. Both Kerry and I were attracted by a stunning display in the shop window and we strolled over together to look at it. "That's a lovely skirt," I remarked pointing to a knee length black pencil skirt worn by one of the mannequins. Kerry agreed. "It hangs beautifully. I love the way skirts that shape ride up when you sit down, attracting admiring glances," she smiled. I nodded. I had always found those skirts sexy. "Why don't you try it on?" she asked. I blushed. "No, that's not what we've come here for." "But if you like it, why not try it on? I'll come with you." The point is of course that I wanted to try it on. I knew I shouldn't but I wanted to see what I looked like in it and Kerry seemed to like me wearing that sort of thing. "OK," I smiled. Kerry smiled too. Well some five minutes later, I was walking out of the shop carrying a bag with my new purchase. I was surprised how easy it was. No one seemed to question my identity. "You'll have to put it on," said Kerry, producing some nail scissors from her bag." Here, borrow these to remove the tags and visit the rest rooms and slip it on." Three minutes later I emerged from the rest room wearing my sexy new skirt, having checked my make-up. The next shop window we looked in contained a micro mini-skirt that Kerry seemed to like. "I'd love one of those," she said and we went inside. When we found them she picked up two - you've guessed it, one her size, one mine. Into the cubicles and we were trying them on. They were terribly short, shorter even than the pink dress. "Let's buy them both," suggested Kerry. "I'll pay. It'll be my present for you." Who was I to disagree? Soon we were both walking out of the shop, each with a little skirt in a little carrier bag. Well, to cut a long morning shopping short, I bought quite a few items that morning, but none of them male. You could say it was a defining moment, admitting that I wanted to dress en femme and was happy to do so for all the holiday. I had decided to spend all the time at Kerry's as Natalie and not to wear trousers until I changed back to Jonathan for the flight home and then only to match my passport photo. Kerry seemed to like my decision when I told her although it's not true to say that I didn't wear trousers again on the trip because I was the proud owner of a pair of denim hot pants! I also decided that from then on I would wear my wig, if it wasn't too itchy. I wanted to be as feminine as possible. After going home for lunch, Kerry proposed going to the beach for the afternoon. I agreed not quite knowing what I was letting myself in for. "Go and put your costume on then," she said. I was slightly horrified and this showed in my face. "Don't worry. We'll find a quiet spot with nobody about. You can wear one of my beach robes to cover any lumpy bits." I smiled. Lumpy bits! I went to my room, stripped, shaved and then put on the costume, sliding the breast forms inside. Without the basque I was not as shapely and with some effort fitted my lumpy bits between my legs. On with the wig, a look in the mirror, not bad at all! Kerry seemed impressed and found me a robe. She was wearing one too. The beach was virtually empty and we were well away from any suspicious prying eyes. I felt really proud and had a great time, but I didn't dare go in the sea. My only worries were the sun tan line that I was acquiring that may have looked suspicious and Kerry's semi-serious suggestion that I might like to buy a bikini. Then it was back to Kerry's place where we both changed into our new micro minis. Short and sexy. We spent the evening in, cuddling. The feeling of our thighs interlocking was wonderful. This set the agenda for the rest of the week; short skirts and lots of fun. The day before I was due to fly home, Kerry said to me: "Natalie, there's something I've got to tell you. I did set this all up. I'm sorry." "Don't be sorry. I've enjoyed it immensely." "Yes but I've got your other suitcase hidden upstairs." I'm now sitting in the aeroplane flying home. I've got two suitcases of luggage in the hold, one with Jonathan's things in, one with Natalie's. I can't wait to get home and change back to Natalie again. I hope this suitcase doesn't go missing.