Between Heels And Keys free porn video

All of the usual copyright rules apply, but this story may be posted freely on any site that does not require a fee for accessing it. Also, the usual rules about legal restrictions on accessing stories like this apply according to where you are from. Between Heels and Keys... By Nina Henderson. I was thrilled with the effect, the look was just right. Subtle, discreet, yet there was an undertone of lurking sensuality. Once more, I scrutinized the face in the mirror searching for any flaws with the makeup, delighted with the results of the blended shades of brown and beige around the blue eyes that were framed by long mascara covered eyelashes. Satisfied that my makeup was just right, I then gave my dark brown shoulder length hair a quick brush. After a few brush strokes I put the brush down and then gently shook my head from side to side, getting the hair to fall more naturally around my face. Yes, I was very pleased with the young woman looking back at me from the mirror with her expectant air, lips slightly parted in a provocative smile. The pale red lipstick making them look full and inviting, without being to obvious. I was nearly ready. With shaking hands I picked up the two shiny silver earrings that were shaped like an upside-down apostrophe and tilting my head to one side and brushing the hair away from my ear with a finger, I clipped one in place, repeating the process with the other ear. Once more I surveyed the woman's face reflected in the mirror, amazed at the transformation before me. Placed my hands on the dressing table, I did a last minute inspection of dark red nails, happy with the gleaming results. I then slipped on a couple of rings, completing the feminine look of each hand. Giddy with anticipation, my ears roared to the sound of my heart pounded excitedly, every nerve in my body was electrified with the prospects of what lay ahead. Yes... I was really going to do it.... There was now no turning back I slowly stood up from the dressing table, taking a deep breath, trying once more to clam the waves of adrenalin that were pulsing through me. Pushing the small dressing table stool backwards, I turned, a little unsteady at first on the four inch heels, but this was more from nerves than because of the slender stiletto heels of the shoes. Walking slowly over to stand in front of the full length mirror, I surveyed the young woman in the reflection. She was dressed in a crisp white long sleeve blouse with an open collar. The blouse had neat front pleats, with a line of little mother-of-pearl buttons down the centre. The faint outline of the white lacy bra could be seen through the soft material. A straight dark grey pencil skirt that stopped just above the knees nicely offset the white blouse and pale natural coloured stockings that now tugged gently at the suspenders supporting them. The whole ensemble was finished off with fashionable black leather high heel sling-back shoes. The woman in the reflection looked very smart, efficient and successful. I turned a few times to admire the clean look, while enjoying the feel of the clothes and the tightness of the skirt around my hips and thighs. The young woman reflected in the mirror had a good figure but in an ordinary way. She was not beautiful, but she was attractive and her simple yet classic style made up for the lack of any real beauty. Turning away from the mirror I walked with deliberately small steps towards my mother's bedroom, while exaggerating the sway of my hips. Brushing some hair away from my eyes, I thrilled at the delicate sound of the thin silver bangles on my wrist as they clashed. An invisible cloud of perfume followed me around as I moved, adding to the surreal feeling of complete surrender to femininity. Oh... This was heaven, I sighed as I took a further turn around the room loving the very slight ankle wobble the high heels produced with each step. Yet again I had to suppress the rising excitement by stopping and catching my breath. With a conscious effort, I had to steel myself to begin the next phase of my plan that would inexorably lead me to a point of no return. I was going to do it! I was going to follow my plan through all the way! Let me explain a little about how I got to this point of being dressed as an elegant young business woman? My name is N... Well let's say... My chosen feminine name is Jenny. I am eighteen and I have been cross- dressing since I was about eleven or twelve, without really understanding or worrying as to why I had this compulsive urge to wear girl's clothes. In later years I put it down to the absence of my father who had been killed in a car accident and to the continual exposure to femininity through my mother and her friends... Although this did seem to be an all to simple explanation. The path that lead me to dressing in women's clothes had started quite innocently one evening, while I idly played with a pair of my mother's high heel shoes as we talked together, as she sat at her vanity table getting ready to go out for the evening. After unintentionally slipped on the shoes, in an electrifying instant I experienced a quite unexpected, yet overpowering feeling of sexual arousal. This startled me and scared me at the same time. I quickly kicked the shoes off, too embarrassed by this abrupt awakening of such deep core feelings. Thankfully my mother did not seem to notice my sudden flushed state and instead scolding me for playing with her expensive shoes, all without taking her attention away from her application of make-up. Later that night when my Mother had left for the evening, I slipped back into her room and started trying on her shoes, enthralled by the sensations they produced by wearing them, both mentally and sexually. That night I masturbated myself to a raw state. A short time after that first encounter I progressed to trying on a pair of her panties while in heels. This proved to provide an explosive mixture of emotions and feelings that were so easily accessed by this act. I then made a further small, but very important discovery about this alternative avenue of pleasure, that of stockings and tights. It was almost to much for my young mind to cope with... Gradually my exploration of female clothes started to escalate and bit by bit it got to a point where I was dressing completely at every opportunity there was.. This addiction in addition started to manifest itself into my everyday life, when I begin to let my hair and nails grow, to a point where both were long enough to easily fashion it into a convincingly feminine style yet in real life, still be viewed as masculine. At an early stage in this process I also discovered the delights of experimenting with make-up and other cosmetic products. It was like taking a drug, once tasted you had to have more and more, the need to feed this dragon was all powerful and all consuming. By the time I was sixteen I had become reasonably proficient at making myself look like a teenage girl and I was sure the results were quite passable, even though my mother's wardrobe tended to make me look a lot older than I was. It was also fortunate that Mum and I had the same shoe size and this allowed me unlimited access to her extensive selection of high heel shoes and sandals. By studying her and following her example, I was able to develop a pleasing female personality with all the mannerisms. This proved to be the biggest burden to hide, as I found myself making feminine gestures without realising it. I was sure that Mum had her suspicions that I was wearing her shoes and clothes by some of her less than casual remarks she made, when she found something out of place in her wardrobe or room. But so far I had been able to dodge her more probing questions. On a few rare occasions, she had arrived home unexpectedly and surprised me while in the throws of dressing and I had only just escape discovery by her with some quick thinking. But the thrill of this random chance of being caught, only served to add to the excitement of this developing addiction. Yet most of my dressing adventures were confined to short intense periods, because of my school timetable and Mum's flexible work schedule, which allowed her to work from home for most of the time. This seriously limited the amount of time I had the house to myself and to my love, my Jenny. In spite of this secretive pastime, I am also a wholesome male, who loves sports and other masculine pursuits. At 5' 6" with a lean build, without being skinny, (my body was just the right size to pass for an athletic girl). I was able to participate in most activities at school without falling into the sissy brigade (how I laughed at the cruel twist of fate that separated us... and yet I was the one in panties...) I had just finished my final exams and was waiting on the results, to see if I would get into the University of my choice... So I now had plenty of time on my hands, but the inability to dress whenever I pleased was nearly driving me mad. Mum and I, lived in a large Victorian villa that was now split up into five apartments. The building fronted onto a wide leafy street situated in the Clifton area of Bristol (England). The Clifton area was full of quiet tree lined streets, where the vast majority of the buildings were made up of an assortment of Georgian, Edwardian and Victorian villas and mock mansions that had been built by wealthy merchants in times past. Over the years most of these building had been converted into apartments for the growing army of affluent middle class citizens that were steadily moving in to the city. Yet in some parts, Clifton was the fashionable preserve of bed-sits, university students, struggling artists and a variety of stylish personalities. As a result of this mix, the small commercial area was crowded with all sorts of strange and wonderful shops that gave the neighbourhood a bohemian atmosphere. Our apartment occupied the whole first floor of the Victorian Villa. The other four apartments in the building consisted of a large basement apartment that was unoccupied and in poor repair, a ground floor unit that was inhabited by a rotund middle aged business woman and he scruffy lover. There were two small apartments on the top floor of the building that were occupied by a young bachelor who was an Architect and a Nurse with her live-in boyfriend respectively. The main access to our apartment was via a large communal hallway that to one side had a very wide staircase, which had a lovely wooden balustrade leading up to our apartment landing and then it became noticeably smaller as you ventured up from our landing to the two top floor apartments. The ground floor apartment had its own entrance at the back of the building as well as sharing the communal hall entrance. I loved the hallway for its classic black and white tiled floor, high ceiling with a small sky light and the clean white paintwork that was offset by dark wooden panelling along the lower half of the walls. It was so elegant and spoke of a bygone age of opulence. Mum had bought the apartment with some of the insurance money she had received after my farther had been killed. We lived a quiet happy life in the building and had done so for many years. Mum ran her own small firm of media and advertising consultants... It kept her busy and me in a good private school. For me, one of the best rooms in the apartment was Mum's spacious bedroom, that was dominated by a large mahogany four poster bed, that was elegantly dressed with drapes and counterpane in rich warm reds and gold patterned coloured materials. The room also had a spacious en-suite bathroom; but for me the best place in the house was the well appointed boudoir that was set off to one side and at the back of the bed room. The boudoir was a light, cheerful and ultra feminine space, which had large built-in wardrobes along two walls. The centre piece of this room was a huge dressing or vanity table with an enormous mirror that was surrounded by bright lights, just like ones found in theatrical dressing rooms. The vanity table top was always covered with all sorts of cosmetics and perfumes. The room was a veritable Aladdin's cave of delights for the cross-dressing explorer... Mum loved clothes and shoes and she had amassed a huge collection of both. She was very proud of her still lean and trim figure and enjoyed dressing to show it off to fullest effect. She dressed in a modern classic style, that was both conservative and chic, yet she had a knack of being able to add that little extra spice to everything she wore, lifting it out from the ordinary. I truly loved her cool stylishness and yet at the same time, I envied her freedom to wear these clothes. All I could do was dream of the day when I could dress as and when I pleased and have the freedom to go out and really enjoy the experience of passing as a woman. So when my mother announced she was going to be away at a business conference for a few days. I received the news with outward signs of regret, but inwardly I was screaming for joy at the prospect of being left on my own. I immediately started to make plans for Jenny. At last, the eagerly awaited day arrived when Mum left the house at seven bound for the railway station and from there she would be on her way to the conference. I watched the taxi drive away filled with a mixture of fear and anticipation of what lay ahead. The emotions were almost overwhelming. The house was now all mine and so was my mum's wardrobe... The first step of my plan for the day was to check on the whereabouts of the neighbours and so I spent the early part of the morning monitoring their movements as best I could, while I busied myself selecting all that I would need for my scheme. The morning was bright and sunny with large white cotton-wool clouds that moved lazily across the clear blue sky. I also checked the days forecast on the telly, as the weather was going to dictate what I wore. The weathergirl happily informed the nation that it was going to be a lovely day, but she cautioned there was a good chance of rain showers in the afternoon; she also said the day was expected to be a little chilly, because of a gentile north westerly wind. Perfect... As for the movements of the neighbours, well... The ground floor dwellers both left for work promptly at eight, as was normal for a weekday. I next heard the Architect moving around his flat at about eight thirty, as I was drying off after a hot lazy bath filled with scented bath salts. During this soak, I had removed all the hair from my legs, arms and body. This was the very first time I had ventured to go so far and the sensation left me feeling incredibly feminine and for some reason naked At about nine thirty I heard the Architect and his latest girl friend descend to the main hallway while having a heated argument. As the main door closed behind them they left a welcome silence in their wake. I knew from experience that the Architect would not be back until late. That just left the Nurse and her live in boyfriend... Hum... He had left the previous day and I was certain he was not at home. There was no noise, nor any indication of any movement in her apartment overhead. Maybe she had been on night duty and was now asleep, or maybe she was on early shift and I had not heard her leave for work. This was a little worrying, but either way it should not have an impact on my plans. So I entered the boudoir to start the second phase of my adventure, filled with excitement and expectation of what lay ahead. That is how I had arrived at this point in time, where I was now dressed as a young business woman. I moved over to Mums four poster bed and picked up the suit jacket that went with the skirt which I had laid out earlier. I slipped it on, adjusting the blouse collar so that it rested on the outside of the jacket collar, giving a nice contrast. I tugged at sleeves so that a little of the white cuffs showed against the dark grey of the jacket sleeves. I was now light-headed with anticipation. I sashayed over to the mirror and regarded myself, mesmerised by the reflection before me. I looked every inch the successful female executive. If I had not tucked my pecker away so tightly I would have cum there and then. Oh my god this is so exciting... Turning away from the reflection, I returned to the Boudoir and selected a suitable black shoulder bag and a red and gold patterned scarf that would give the whole ensemble a splash of lively colour. Returning to the bedroom, I placed the bag on the bed and I started to assemble what I thought would be need in the shoulder bag... Glancing at the time I was startled to see that it was already eleven AM and time to get moving. Cosmetics - Check... Compact with mirror - check... Perfume - Check... Tissues - Check... Wallet and money - Check... Pen & note pad - Check... Keys - Check I almost dropped the shoulder bag in fright as the silence of the house was shattered by the sudden ringing of the telephone ... With jarred nerves I put the bag down on the bed and moved to the bedside table and picked up the telephone receiver. "Yes Hello?" "Hello dear." "Hello Mum, what's up?" I asked while heart pound... Was she coming home and thus spoil my plans? "I just called to let you know I have arrived safely and I wanted to give you my contact details and room number!" "Hold on Mum while I get a pen and some paper..." I turned and stretching I caught hold of the shoulder bag strap and pulled it to me; then quickly rummaging through the bag's contents for the pen and note paper. As I pulled the pen and pad free the bag fell to the floor spilling most of the contents out. "Blast..." I spluttered under my breath. "What's that dear, are you OK? "Yes Mum, just dropped something that's all, go ahead with the details..." and I started to scribble down and repeat the numbers as she reeled them off to me. After a brief discussion on various domestic issues she rang off. I gently put the telephone handset down and sat still for a few seconds while still perched on the edge of the bed, trying to take control of my emotions that had just sent me on a roller coaster ride with a mixture of fear and exhilaration all rolled into one. I then knelt down as best I could in the tight skirt and high heels and scooped up into the bag all the items that had fallen out, then straitening up, I placed the bag on the bed while I got ready for phase three. There was no turning back now... Mum was miles away... and I had all the time in the world. After a last minute check in the mirror, I slipped the scarf over my shoulders and arranged it as I had seen my mother do, then I picked up the bag and slipped the strap onto my shoulder and then turning I walked with confident swinging hips to the front door. For a moment I stood facing the door, heart pounding, mouth dry, knees trembling slightly while I listened for sounds of life from the other apartments. Silence, wonderful silence... "You don't have to do this you know" a voice inside me cautioned. "You can still back out, why not just lazy around the apartment, or try on different clothes..." The voice continued. I half turned, my courage seeping away. "Dam it THERE'S NO GOING BACK NOW!" I exclaimed out loud, grabbing angrily at the Yale lock knob, twisting it and at the same time pulling the door open. Abruptly the door was open and the hallway stairs stretched before me. I stood absolutely still, amazed at my own actions and courage, all the while listening intently for sounds of movement, nervously scanning the hall and upper landing for signs of life. I could hardly believe it, as there I was on the threshold of entering the world for the first time dressed as a woman. The whole building was silent except for my short nervous breaths and pounding heart. After what seemed like minutes I stepped cautiously onto the landing, keeping the door open behind me with one hand. Just in case I had to make a quick dash back to safety. My god this is so exciting, Ohoo... I wish I could cum.... Come on Jenny... Concentrate, feel and remember every sensation... Standing on the landing momentarily unable to move, I was very conscious of my heeled shoes, as I strained to hear any human movement. Nothing... Slowly I let the front door close and heard the Yale lock spring home with an audible snap. All of a sudden I had this feeling of vulnerability mixed with a powerful sense of the inevitability of these first steps towards the outside world. Gingerly, I descended the stairs while holding tightly onto the banister, a little unsteadily at first, unused to this type of movement in high heels. I had only ever practiced walking in high heels in the apartment on a level plane. As I neared the bottom of the stairs, I stopped briefly and once again strained, trying to hear any slight noise that would alert me to danger. But the hall was silent and still. I descended the last few steps to the bottom of the stairs, getting a good deal of pleasure from the swish of my skirt as I moved and the slight pull of my stockings on the suspenders. In the event that someone should unexpectedly turn up at this point, I would try and hide in the gloom under the large broad staircase. Not the most secure place but it did offer a temporary refuge if needed. As I stepped lightly off the last step, I noticed the click of the heels on the tiles. This was a very pleasing sound, especially as I was the one making it... Once more I paused for a little while, partly regaining my composure and partly out of caution. Then when I was fully satisfied that all was indeed clear, I moved with small but purposeful steps towards the large heavy black lacquered wooden front door with shiny brass fittings. Thrilled with the gentle, tap, tap accompanying each step. Oh girls did have so much fun! I wondered briefly whether they ever noticed such small, wonderful things such as the click of high heels on tiles. At the main front door, I placed a shaking hand on the lock lever and slid it back, pausing suddenly uncertain about going any further. All I had to do was swing the door open and I would be out in the open for the very first time dressed as a woman. I would be stepping into a different world, a different roll... It was so awesome... I would be living my fantasies at last. No more skulking around the apartment, Jenny would be liberated at last! Oh god I wish I could cum..... With impulsive resolve I pulled the solid wooden door partly open and survey the street past the small front garden fence. Excitedly I saw that no one was within my immediate sight. With that, I pulled the door fully open and stepped out into the small porch, letting the heavy wooden door swing closed behind me. The lock making a noticeable clunk as it locked home. I realised that I had no longer any quick exit, there was now no going back. The first thing I noticed as I descended the three short steps to the short narrow paved garden path was the way I could almost feel the texture of the stones through the thin sole of the high heel shoe, the second was the cool air seeming to caress my stocking covered legs and ease its way up under my skirt. This is so magical... I was in rapture with the high heel's rhythmic tap as I walked the short distance to the front gate. Stopping (remembering to keep my feet together), to have a quick look up and down the street. No one near enough to worry about at this stage... "Take a deep breath my girl and put your best foot forward" I said quietly to myself and then I pulled the small iron-gate fully open and stepped on to the broad pavement. I was out in the street enfamme.... At last I was out... This is so wonderful... screamed from inside my head. It was the sum of all my dreams and fantasies to date... Briefly I paused to have a look round, as a few cars passed. Then turning I headed towards Clifton's small shopping precinct about ten minutes walk from our front gate. With every step I tried to make sure my hips swung and that my toes were pointed straight ahead. Elbows tucked in a little, wrists turned out, leave your hands loose at the wrists. I had spent many hours watching women move and I soon realised that men and women not only moved differently, but women's elbows seemed to have a slightly different angle. So I had spent a lot of time practising trying to move like a woman. Click, click my heels sounded rhythmically on the concrete paving stones. I soon discovered that you had to be vigilant about not letting your heels slip into the spaces or crakes between the paving stones, as I found out shortly after a few steps when one of my shoes was forcibly pulled from my foot... No damage, just a shock and a new awareness. As I continued on my walk to the shops I passed a few other pedestrians, who were mostly elderly people of both sexes, all smiled at me and I smiled in return. The few younger people were women and they mostly had young children in push-buggies. As we passed they all gave me a quick look over and then smiled. This was a little unsettling as I did not know whether they were smiling because they NEW or as I had noted, all women seem to smile at one another... The walk to the shops was taking longer than I had expected and this was due to the short steps and slower pace I was forced to accept while wearing high heel shoes and a tight skirt. This first outing was now taking much longer than planned. What the hell? What did it matter anyway? Just enjoy it! I had set myself a deadline to be home no later than four thirty, when I might expect the first of my neighbours to return. It was so thrilling to feel the cool air around my nylon clad legs and feel the way the clothes moved with my body. I revelled in the tightness of the skirt around the hips and thighs and the jingle of the bangles on my wrist and the feel of stray wind blown hair, which played around my face. It was all so enthralling. It was all worth the risk. Oh God if only I could cum now! As I reached at the top end of Clifton's small high street, I was a little taken aback by the number of shoppers thronging the narrow pavements and I found this a little intimidating and unsettling. Just as I was about to turn and head back home, feeling that I had, had just about enough of this adventure for the moment (after all I still had a couple of day and so plenty of time to play with), when a large crowed of nosy students came up behind me. In panic, I started to move forward further down the street rather than have to pass them. I was frankly a little frightened by them and I crossed the road and strolled further along the street, trying to relax and blend into the scenery. Half heartedly I did some cursory window shopping, feeling stressed and now a little unsettled by the encounter with the students. I now wished only to return home and safety. After about ten minutes, I re-crossed the high street and started to retrace my steps with a growing sense of relief that I was heading home. I had never anticipated that the stress of going out dressed would be so intense. After a couple of minutes I was again on my street and heading for home. Almost at once I begin to feel more relaxed and the earlier enjoyment started to return. I was heading home for a well deserved wank... Oh god this is so fantastic... I had done it... I was out in public as a woman... "Hay darling show us your cock!!!" A course male voice called out a little distance away. Shocked, I looked around to see who was yelling at me, but could see no one. "Hey good looking, do you take it up the arse????" Another man's voice called and was followed by rancorous laughter of several men. Quickening my pace, wishing suddenly to be swallowed up by the ground; feeling my face reddening. I had one last desperate look around to see who was yelling the abuse. "Oooh aren't we a pretty sissy! Do you swallow sweat lips?" More cruel laughter. Oh God.... I could see them now! My tormentors were a couple of builders high up on some scaffolding outside a building just across the road. They were all looking and gesturing at me! Could everyone see that I was a boy dressed up as a girl? I was now burning with acute humiliation and starting to perspire with extreme anxiety. I was so embarrassed and ashamed. "Com err darling, and I'll show you what a real man feels like" A voice followed me as I tried to hurry away. I wanted to run but I know this was not possible in the tight skirt and high heels. I just had to get away... Just ahead was the junction to a different street that lead diagonally away from my tormentors that I knew vaguely. It would mean having to walk round the block to get back home, but that was preferable to having those barbarian builders yelling at me. Oh god.... What happens if they follow me? "You're welcome to suck dick here any time love! I'll be waiting for you lover!" followed me as I rounded the corner into the next street, walking as quickly as I could to get away from their sight and obscene calls. I had started to perspire profusely and could feel the clamminess of the blouse hugging me. Oh God... I want to die... Why have I been so foolish...? As I progressed along the pavement to the next road junction, I was forced to slow my pace by the high heel shoes, all the while trying to calm myself down; knowing that to panic was not very good move in my present situation. How did they know? How did they 'read' me? What was it that had given me away? Do other people see me for what I really am? These questions assailed me as I walked along the tree lined pavement. I felt crushed, completely humiliated and above all else I just wanted to get back home and out of these clothes. I hated the badge of femininity the heeled shoes and skirt gave me and I was now haunted, instead of thrilled by the rhythmic click of the high heels. Oh god! How had it all gone so horribly wrong...? I looked great in the mirror; my make-up was perfect for day wear... Where had I failed? Turning a further corner, I started down yet another leafy road that was lined with big silent villas and mansions on either side of the street. The occasional car passed, but I paid scant attention to them. I had to get home. Slowly I became aware that my ankles were starting to lose their support for me and that as I trod on the balls of my toes, the whole foot seemed to twist outwards from the ankle. This was very unexpected... Yet women seemed to be able to cope in high heels all day. What was wrong? The pain in my ankles grew with every step, until it was becoming almost unbearable, in addition my toes had started giving way and loosing their support, splaying the feet outwards. Oh god why did I have to wear such thin high heels....? Mum had plenty of lower thicker heeled shoes. I was now forced to a slow painful hobble and when the pain became to much, I had to stop and lean against a wall for support, trying to give my aching ankles and toes a rest. I urgently needed to sit down and take the dam high heel shoes off. There was still quite a distance to go before reaching home and now this task seemed an almost impossible feat. After a brief rest against the wall, I started on my painful way, driven on by the fresh memory of the degradation I had just suffered at the hands of the builders. All semblance of attempting a normal feminine movement was lost by the sheer misery of the pain brought on by the high heel shoes. When I finally reached the last junction and the homeward leg was now within my grasp, I noticed a wooden bench-seat set back from the road at the T of the junction with a bus stop sign near to it. Painfully and with great effort I slowly crossed the road, with every step the balls of my feet felt every tinny stone as if they were red hot cinders. When I at last reached the bench, I gratefully sat down, so overwhelmed by the relief to be off my feet, that I did not for the moment care much about anything or anyone else. However after some time, as the throbbing eased, I started to regain some measure of composure and to take note of my surroundings. The road was empty of other people, save for the occasional passing car. It was lunch time so few people were around. I removed one shoe and massaged the toes and after a time, reluctantly replacing it and repeated the process with the other foot. It felt so, so good, that I carried on massaged each foot alternatively for about thirty minutes, unable and unwilling to face any further pain. I debated about making the last leg home in stocking feet, but rejected the idea as I did not relish the thought of walking on the pavements like that. Better to suffer a little more pain than that! How did women spend so much time in high heels and not suffer like this? I wondered idly. While I rested, a number people passed by; however they paid little attention to me save for the odd glance. When anyone approached, I would slip the shoe on, straighten my back and make sure my knees were pressed together, as I had see other women do and tried to look as if I was waiting for the bus. As I rested, the sun slowly slipped behind a dark menacing bank of thick clouds and quite quickly the temperature changed and it started to get uncomfortably chilly. I could feel the cold air on my skin through the stockings. It was however becoming apparent that it was going to rain shortly and that the time had come for me to make a move towards home. Slowly and painfully I got to my feet and with a mixed sense of relief that my ordeal was nearly over and the dread of the having to walk further in high heels, I started to take slow steps away from my temporary haven. My ankles and toes still hurt but now I was able to walk with less difficulty. Fifteen minutes later, I finally pushed the small front garden Iron Gate open and with sudden renewed vigour I walked swiftly up to the small front porch, the pain in my feet all but forgotten. I reached the big wooden black lacquered door with a feeling of salvation, I briefly leaned my back against it for support, weak at the knees with relief at having reached home safely. I then opened the shoulder bag and started to rummage inside for the front door keys. As I felt around inside of the bag, it became apparent there were no keys..... "It's impossible..." I burst out aloud. I was sure that I had checked they were safely placed in the bag before I left the apartment! With rapidly mounting alarm I searched the bag again, this time checking the entire inner-space more carefully, but I still found no keys! I frantically examined every inch of the bag and its contents. Yet each search revealed the same thing... No keys... NO KEYS! Oh my God.... I let the shoulder bag flop to my side in miserable disbelief and mounting despair, still not truly believing what was happening. Yet gradually the reality of my situation started to become all too apparent. Where were the keys? Where had I put them? I was absolutely sure that I had placed them in the bag! Maybe I put them... With a sudden flurry and a faint ray of hope, I did a quick search of all the pockets in the jacket. Nothing... Oh my God! What am I going to do? Bitterly I remembered the bag falling off the bed and the contents spilling out while I had looked for a pen and note pad to take mum's contact details. SHIT! The keys must have fallen out of the bag then and somehow when I repacked the bag, I had missed the keys. I slumped against the door more than a little frightened with the situation I now found myself in. I tried desperately to figure out my next move. What am I going to do now? How am I going to get out of this mess? My feet started to remind me of their condition and I realised that I could not spend much more time standing in the doorway or I would attract unwelcome attention from the neighbours. Oh God...What am I going to do.... Then I remembered that I could take temporary refuge in the passageway that linked the front of the house with the back yard and garages. This passageway also served as the main entrance to the basement flat. It was a covered space that passed under the ground floor flat and was slightly hidden away by overgrown bushes. I would be able to rest there for a short time without drawing undue attention. Resignedly I made my way along the short garden path and unsteadily descended the few uneven damp stone steps into the gloom of the dank passage. After a few seconds when my eyes became accustomed to the gloominess, I had a brief look around, noting the basement flat front door with its peeling, greying white paint and dirty coloured glass panels. I walked over to the door and tried the handle to see if by some miracle it l would open, but it was firmly locked. I turned away and looked for somewhere to sit and rest my tired feet. After a small while I found a place where I could sit. For a moment I considered taking my shoes off, but the ground was to dirty and damp. The passage was a narrow dismal space with soggy moss covered stone tiles. The air was heavy with the smell of mould and dampness. Glancing at my Mum's (borrowed) gold wrist watch, I realised with some alarm that it was already past 2pm. Where had all the time gone? I sat feeling cold and dejected, all the spice of the adventure had evaporated and now I was being assailed with self recriminations for my stupidity. I tired to workout what I was going to do next and look at the options I was now faced with; however none of them look very promising. The more I considered my position, the more it was becoming apparent that I had no other choice but to ask one of the neighbours for help. At any rate, I could not hide in the passageway waiting on Mum's return... Even if I could, how would I explain what I was doing, dressed in one of her best skirt suits and wearing her favourite undies, quite apart from the physical state I would be in after a few days! This was not a pleasant option to think about. There were still a couple of hours left before the occupants of the ground floor flat returned home from work, usually at five. I briefly considered approaching them for help, but the idea of standing before them dressed enfamme was just too humiliating to contemplate. I was even less enthusiastic in asking the Architect, anyway he normally returned late in the evening. That left the young Nurse and on the few occasions that I had met her, she had seemed nice enough. I somehow felt she would not mock me and continue to embarrass me over and over again about my dressing as a woman. The more I thought about it the more I felt comfortable with the idea of approaching her for help. Above all the other residents in the building I was sure she would keep my secrete safe? Yet... What about the boy friend? Would she tell him or worse still, he might be home and see me! Hum... As I considered the options further, the Nurse was defiantly the only option open to me and would be the best person to ask for help from, but where was she? She could be gone all afternoon and possibly the whole night, depending on which shift she was on. Anyway I would have to catch her on her own as she entered or left the building, as I really did not relish the prospect of being seen by her boy friend. As with the ground floor neighbours and the Architect, I was sure he would never let me forget this day, I was very, very sure of that. It started to rain with a steady drizzle and it had become quite cold. Felling more miserable than I could remember in a long time, I pulled the jacket closer around me. The feel of the cold air on my stockinged legs no longer thrilled, but chilled, while the bra and panties were now very uncomfortable, as one held me in a tight grip and the latter had ridden up the crack in my bottom. Short of pulling my skirt up (which would be difficult given its tightness around my thighs and hips) it would be just too terrible to be discovered in such a compromising position on top of all else, so there was nothing else for me to do but accept the discomfort. Looking at the wrist watch again I noted that it was already three thirty and that I had been sitting in the cold damp gloom of the tunnel for over an hour already. My toes were in a lot of pain, cramped up in the shoe's fashionable narrow toes, but at least my ankles were noticeably better. How did women deal with high heels? I again marvelled distractedly. Then the idea came to me... It was a chance, a slim chance, but nevertheless a chance. I could have kicked myself for not thinking of it earlier. What an idiot! Why had I not thought of this before? Getting to my feet, I paused briefly at the entrance to the passage, looking at the pouring rain for a minute, steeling myself for the next move. I then dashed up the short flight of stone steps and rushed round to the front porch, my shoes splashing in small puddles of water that had gathered on the payment. I reached the front door breathing heavily but this was caused more by excitement than effort. The porch offered some shelter from the rain, but I could feel rain drop hitting the back of my legs, and my feet were wet. My clothes were a little damp from the rain. Excitedly I raised my hand and pressed the Nurse's front door intercom call button. Tense with anticipation I waited for some response. A few cars made their cautious way along the street, splashing water as they went. After waiting for a few minutes, with no noticeable result, I again pressed the call button, holding it down for a bit longer this time, all the while praying someone was home. Once more I patently waited for something to happen, but there was just silence from the speaker. Turning away from the door and slowly descending the front steps, I felt totally dejected and defeated, no caring about the rain as it started to soak me. I was now resigned to the fact that I had no other choice but to solicit the help of one of the other neighbours and face their ridicule and humiliation. Oh what a fool I had been! "Hello... Hello... Who's there?" A female voice came from the intercom speaker. I rushed back up the three steps nearly tripping over my high heels. "Hello, Hi it's me N.... from the first floor flat! I'm, I'm sorry to disturb you! But can you please let me in? I've forgotten my keys to the front door!" I said breathlessly. "Ok N...." And with that the electronic buzzer sounded and the door swung open. "Is it open ?" The Nurse asked. "Yes thanks" I called as I passed through the doorway and into the safety of the elegant hallway, closing the large black lacquered wooden door behind me, immediately feeling incredibly relieved. Thank God! Standing with my back to the door, I removed the high heel shoes and for a moment I could not move for the pain in my numb toes as they came free of the cramped shoes, it was both excruciating and exquisite. I held my breath as I strained to hear any sound that might indicate whether the Nurse was going to check on my entry or not. But there was just silence, pure and wonderful silence. Thank God... I had got this far undetected... I could feel the cold tiles through my wet stockinged feet, as life returned to my numb toes. Slowly, holding the pair of high heel shoes in one hand I climbed the stairs to my apartment door. As the initial euphoria died, I was now faced with the problem of how I was going to get past this door? At least I had been able to get inside the hallway without detection and that was a very positive position to be in. The hall was dry, warmish and I did not need to wear the high heel shoes and endure anymore pain. I could if necessary hide under the stairs for a bit. I placed a hand on the door and pushed as hard as I could, there was a little give, but the Yale lock stood firm. The stillness of the hall was suddenly shattered as the door to the Nurse's apartment opened and there were footsteps on the landing above, followed by the muffled click of a door closing shut. I froze in panic and fear. There was no hiding; there was no time to make a dash back down the stairs for the safety of the dark space under the staircase without being seen. I stood rooted to the spot, unable to think or act, overwhelmed with the certain of discovery. My heart was pounding and my knees went weak as I felt the need to pee. I closed my eyes; I just could not face what was coming. Oh God... So close to safety and liberation from this female bondage! Then I noticed it, the faint sound of a ringing telephone. The Nurse stopped after a few steps. I held my breath praying it was her telephone. She then retraced her steps and I heard the rustle of keys and her door opening as she moved back inside her apartment. Wasting no further time and thanking the unknown caller with deep gratitude for my unexpected salvation. I hurriedly descended the stairs, almost slipping a few time in my nylon covered feet. I made it to the safety of the darkened space under the staircase, just as I heard the Nurse close her front door and start to descend. In the gloom under the stairs, I tried to calm my mounting anxiety by controlling each breath while following the Nurse's footfalls. She slowly, noisily descended, stopping for a moment at the base of the staircase. I held my breath, frozen with fear. She then moved over to where the mail boxes were situated and I was able to watch her, as she opened her mail box and extract a couple of letters. She then slammed the post box door closed and moved out of sight for a couple of seconds. She opened the main door and suddenly she was gone and I was left alone in silence. The big door shut with a gentle sigh followed by the click of the lock. I stood trembling, unable and unwilling to move, my emotions now completely shattered by the days events so far. That had been close... Too close... After what seemed like a life time, but was in reality only a few minutes, I remounted the stairs once more and once more tried the my door. It was locked and there was nothing more I could do about that. Glancing at my wrist watch I noted that it was now four o clock. I had one hour before the other residents started to arrive home, maybe less if they decided to come home early. I had to do something. I then tried a half hearted karate type kick at the door, but the skirt impeded that effort. I considered taking it off, but it would be bad enough getting caught dressed as a woman, but even worse to be caught in stockings and panties... I would have to think of something else... Feeling frustrated, I leaned against the door wishing fervently for a miracle, promising who ever was listening in heaven that I would never dress again, never ever dress again... I had learned my lesson, boy had I learned my lesson. As I pressed my back against the door I noticed a very slight give. With a gentle sway I pushed my shoulders against the door with all my weight. There was a sound, a very faint sound of dry wood cracking. The door had moved a fraction more. Moving back a little I tried the same manoeuvre again but this time with as much force as I could muster. There was that cracking sound; it was definitely wood giving way under strain. One more time I shouldered the door. With all my strength I launched my shoulder once more against the door. Abruptly with the crashing of splintering wood, the door burst open, sending me sprawling to the floor, high heel shoes and shoulder bag went flying, my skirt riding up my thighs as my legs thrashed in the air. For a second, I lay there while taking stock of the situation, savouring the realisation that I was home at last. My shoulder really hurt and was probably bruised and the door frame was damaged, but I was in... I was safe at last. I was not sure how I would explain the damage to mum, but I really did not care at this point in time. Getting to my feet, I closed the door, letting the automatic door spring hold it shut.... I then stooped down and picked up some of the larger wooden splinters that would snag and ladder my stockings... After a few minutes of gathering the debris and depositing a small pile on the hall table, I turned and entered my Mums room, moving over to the four poster bed, I sank to my knees and looked under the bed. There the keys lay, nestling on the carpet, steel glinting. Picking them up, I considered what they had nearly done to me. These simple but important objects had nearly brought about my total disgrace in front of my neighbours. I wandered back to the front door and this time locked it with the mortis lock, not worried about the damaged doorframe. It could wait. I turned and went into the living-room and flopped down wearily into an easy chair. Strangely however, after all that had happened to me so far, now back in the safe confines of the apartment, I started to feel relaxed and enjoyed the sensation of my female clothes ... It was a shame that my feet were still too sore to wear heels, but in time... However, I had learned one very valuable lesson this day. Make sure you have your keys when venturing out... Standing up I peeled the jacket off and slumped down again in the chair. I started to think about the builders. How did they 'read' me? What had I done or not done that made it so obvious to them that I was not a woman? No one else seemed to notice me or if they did, they were to polite to say anything. What had been missing? I had to find out, but how to do this? As I remembered the very keen excitement I had felt during the first part of my adventure; all the promises that had been made while praying for a miracle to open the doors were forgotten. I even started to consider what I would wear for the rest of the afternoon and evening. The drama of the day it had been just so thrilling and I would have to do it again, just maybe I would give it a go tomorrow! The End