Food Court Frolic
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Feline Frolic 3 free porn video
© Copyright 2012, by Leslie P. Lowe. All rights reserved.
[email protected]
Synopsis: A sissy is publicly exposed by a beautiful girlfriend with a
wicked sense of humor. Kitten's first feminine look is finished and her
next night's prospects are brightened.
Feline Frolic 3
By Leslie Lowe
I stood there in that crowded bar, pink lips open in awe, looking at the
six pretty pink-and-white packages in front of Donna. The crowd of ten
or twelve men and women, most of whom called me "Kitten" as if I were
their sister even though we had never formally met, fell silent as they
saw me freeze.
"Sit down, Miss Kitty," Donna said. "You have so many more presents to
open!"
"Donna!" I said. "How could you do this to me in front of all these
people?"
"Oh, you love it."
"No I don't. And you know exactly what you're doing to me. You're
making me dress up and play girl by threatening to end our friendship!"
"OK," Donna said. "I plead guilty." She stood up and looked the
grinning men surrounding her, the tall, muscular Bart leaning forward to
catch every word. "Now, Kitten," Donna continued, "what do our new
friends say? Should she open her presents here in a fun and social way
or privately and selfishly in her room later tonight?"
"Here!" they all shouted. "Here, right here. Make her do it now,
Donna!" Laughing and cheering. The alcohol had done its work.
I needed a drink. "May I have another cosmopolitan?" I said, and it
came out like a whine.
"It's on me," Bart shouted over the din. "A round for Miss Kitty and
all my friends!" Grinning and waving to Sandi, who seemed to be enjoying
her work, as if she were hosting a party instead of working her cute
little ass off to keep us all anesthetized. I felt sorry for her.
"I wish I could help you, Sandi. May I?" I asked, touching her forearm
as she reached for the dead soldiers littering the table.
"So you think you're tough enough to be a barmaid, Kitten?" Sandi said,
smiling warmly at me, girl-to-girl, not teasing but thanking me in her
delicate way, accepting my praise and commiseration with delightful good
humor.
"I'll see about that in a minute," Donna interrupted. "First, Kitty
needs to open her presents, so she'll look presentable for her
training."
"What training?" I asked, afraid of the answer but unable to resist.
"Your barmaid training, of course!" Bart said. "I can grab your ass for
you and see how you handle it."
Donna cracked up, flirting with her eyes at Bart, while Kate glowered
beside him. "Like Bart said," Donna continued, "you need training for
your new temp job as a barmaid, my dear. Sandi is so happy you
volunteered!"
"I am not!" Sandi said. "Why don't you guys leave her alone?"
"Yes," Kate said. "Why so mean?"
I looked at Kate, a pretty redhead with short hair almost butch in
style, voluptuous of body, breasts to dream about, well-dressed but not
overdressed, less makeup than most of the women and yet all the prettier
for that, and those lips, so full, covered by only a hint of moistening
gloss, so kissable.
"I'm so sorry," Donna said, winking at me. "Come on, Kitten, open your
gifts. Everyone wants to see how much fun a half-birthday girl can have
with her sister's secondhand things!" She sat, motioning for me to
follow suit.
Which I did, feeling helpless and longing for my pink libation to numb
the humiliation, all the while snapping pictures of myself in my mind,
flipping to my ever-present observer mode, watching myself as Kitten
living the real the dreams of her youth. I reached for the first
package, as the other women tried to find a chair, the men hanging over
us as we composed our charmingly girlish tableau, a bridal shower more
than a birthday party, as Donna set the stage to amuse the hungry crowd
at my expense.
"This one next," Donna said, touching a tiny package.
I picked up the one she pointed to. It was, like the others, pink with
lacy white ribbon. Was this happening to me? I saw the smiling faces
eagerly awaiting my every move. I opened it. I'm a crowd pleaser, or
wannabe anyway. Before I had torn off the layers of paper, I knew what
was coming. A cheap jewelry box appeared, about two inches on a side,
gray with black stripes. It could be only one thing, or things. I was
so excited! I had forgotten myself. Jewelry does that to a woman.
I opened the tiny clamshell case. Several girls gasped. I went,
"Aaawww!" The guys laughed at us. But I could not care less. I was in
ecstasy. Inside was the cutest pair of simple dangley earrings. Silver
wire held three pink beads. Perfect for me, anything more too much,
anything less not enough. I realized I was crying. I got up and
climbed over several new girlfriends to hug Donna and whisper my thanks
into her ear, "I hate you and I love you so much!"
Donna backed off and gave me an athletic high five and a professional
football coach's slapping palm ass-grab.
"Ow!" I said, loving the little pain, sisterly administered, totally in
love, somehow private despite the crowd.
"Well, Kitty, put them on!" Donna said, having trouble articulating the
words. Maybe she had accepted a second drink while I was doing my lips
with Kate? Maybe not, because I felt drunk too. I think the hunky
bartender had loaded us up, discerning when he heard Donna's teasing
that we would be that night's floorshow.
I put them on, realizing too late that my deft handling of the wires and
holes was more revealing than I wanted to be with this crowd of volatile
strangers.
A woman's drunk and brassy voice said, "Oh My God, his ears are pierced,
and those earrings look so cute!"
A man's voice said, "Hell, I'm not surprised. He's probably wearing a
tampon too."
"Fuckit! I knew she was a drag queen!" somebody else said, a male
voice, drunk and starting to lose control.
"I am NOT!" I said, feeling the power of the spotlight.
"Fooled me!" said Sandi, walking up with an enormous tray of drinks. My
Gawd, I thought, this woman must be as strong as Hercules. Pushing
through the crowd like a celebrity's bonded bodyguard, she began to set
them down with a grace I envied. I so wanted to be her instead of
myself at this moment. How could I not have noticed how pretty her
auburn shoulder-length hair was, how delicate the curve of her lips? I
think I was in love in that moment, unwilling to consider the past or
the future, living totally in the present, like a Zen nun, with lipstick
and earrings. I began to try to help her, almost knocking several
drinks off, but she managed them all, and did not seem the least bit
annoyed at my interference.
"Thank you, dear," she said. "You are so sweet to help!"
"There," I said, putting down the last drink, then standing up, shaking
my shoulders and head, showing off my dangly earrings, imagining what it
might be like if I had my boobs on. But alas, I was a boy tonight. Or
was I?
"Those look so cute on you!" Sandi said to me, picking up the empties.
"Pay up, Bart. You're the high roller here." He stepped forward and
handed her his card, bowing as if it were a tribute, getting his
obligatory laughs and hoots from the girls and boys in his entourage.
Bart did look rich, as did Kate, his wife. They were not dressed by
thrift shops, as I was, but by the best local stores, and it gave them a
polish I envied. But not too much, for tonight I was queen, the cosmo
still apparently working over my inhibitions, dampening them, and here
was another. Would I survive it without puking or passing? I'm sorry,
my dear, I just don't give a damn!
I had been very conscious of my leading part, but at this moment I fell
into the background as Sandi stepped up onto the table. She called for
quiet throughout the bar, showing a commanding presence, no longer a
barmaid but instead the mistress of ceremonies. Feeling the silence,
the rush of everyone being with her, she raised her right index finger
and twirled it in the air, and then pointed it at the bar, motioning to
the bartender, cuing him.
The next cut of music came on, much louder than before, and Sandi moved
with it, through the familiar opening riffs and into the banging beat.
It was Madonna's "Dress You Up"!
I yelled, "Yes!"
Everyone started dancing and cheering, worshipping Sandi. I bowed and
moved to the coercive beat with her, with them, all of us in a wave of
ecstatic memory, me sipping my second cosmo almost as part of the dance,
drinking too fast, unwilling to feel what was here, afraid of my dream,
now becoming real.
Donna grabbed my hand and danced with me, made me dance with her, then
pushed me up onto the table with Sandi. I complied, as I always do with
Donna, first shooting the rest of my cosmo, and handing my empty glass
to one of the tall guys, a very handsome specimen of the male of the
species, seeing in his eyes--What?!--admiration and, yes, interest!
I began to match Sandi's moves after climbing up. What the hell, my
drink was finished! Fuckit if I spill someone else's. I was a girl and
I could dance, dance, dance! I felt myself falling, falling, falling--
and the same handsome, dark-haired man, taller than Donna, who had also
seemed willing to come to my aid earlier, caught me in his strong arms,
our eyes locking until he looked away, shy, embarrassed. I remembered
this one, the handsome hunk I had hoped would not hate me. He was one
of Bart's buddies, the rare one who had been quiet, pitying me, if not
appreciating me, rather than hating me. My heart fluttered.
Resting in his powerful arms, I said, my voice coming out as girlie as I
could ever hope for, "What's your name?"
"Justin," he said, gently putting me safely back in my chair as if I
were a Barbie doll instead of a grown man. Uh, grown woman? Looking at
me as if I were a delicate orchid too precious to touch.
"I think Justin is sweet on Kitten!" Bart said, slapping my champion on
the back.
"Well fuck, she is a girl!" Justin said. "For Christ's sake, look at
her!"
"You're right, Justin," Donna said. "She's not even dressed yet and she
looks so sweet."
I just sat there, totally calm. I was in heaven. Nothing could touch
me. I was under the influence. And these people were not killing me,
but content to make fun of me, and one loved me as she pretended to
dominate me while another liked me while he pretended to pity me. How
could this possibly turn out?
"Open the others, girl," Donna said, interrupting my reverie.
I did. I opened my new Covergirl mascara, the one with the gleaming
pink case. Pink was obviously the theme tonight, Donna going all out to
mock my girlish secrets with my favorite color.
"It's cheap," Donna said, "but good, all the other teenage girls wear
it. Can somebody give her a compact, please? We don't have time for
another trip to the ladies'. We have shopping to do tonight!"
Kate rummaged around in her crossbody purse and handed me her compact.
I did my lashes like a pro. Well, a drunk pro, who at that point gave a
shit. Still, I thought I looked rather pretty before snapping the
compact shut and handing it back to Kate, and yes, catching Justin's
transfixed glance as I tried mightily not to shoot off sparks in his
direction, gamely managing barely to keep my head about me.
Donna handed me another package. She had them lined up in a certain
order. What a control freak! I loved her so much at that moment!
I opened it greedily, finding inside a shiny pink Hello Kitty PVC clutch
designed obviously for little girls but at that point, all my reserves
depleted and my defenses defeated, as precious to me as diamonds set in
gold. "Oh!" I said, tears flowing again, standing up to give Donna a
hug, everyone clapping for us and whistling and tossing embarrassing
catcalls I struggled to ignore, just being myself, maybe too much,
revealing too much.
Donne wiped her thumbs under my eyes and cleaned them on a napkin.
"Don't ruin your new eyes, girlfriend."
"Thanks," I said, smiling at her. Those little gestures that women were
free to do and often did to each other endeared me to them, made me one
of them. I sighed and looked around. People were losing interest in
us, actually. Our act was already old, my fifteen minutes were up. OK
by me!
Donna put my lipstick and mascara in my purse and said, with both of us
standing there in the middle of all these people, "Let me have your
wallet."
I gave it to her. She extracted the contents quickly and transferred
them to my new purse, dropping my old empty wallet into the gaping mouth
of her tote. "And your cellphone?" Donna said, holding out her hand.
I took it out of my pocket and gave it to her.
She inserted it and snapped the purse shut, then handed it to me. "Here
you are, Kitten," she said. "All set."
"Thank you, Donna," I said, clutching my clutch and hugging Donna, two
girls air-kissing each other, nothing special.
"You keep that phone close, girlie girl," Donna said, "so you can call
Aunt Donna and tell her your date is being nice to you."
"What date?" Bart said, the crowd cycling back to us as the main act
again, followig the big man's lead.
"The one she's going to get tonight if I have anything to say about it."
"With a boy?" the loud woman asked.
"Of course with a boy," Sandi said. "Look at her!" She walked over and
finished her transaction with Bart. "Are you ready for your barmaid
lesson now, Kitten?"
"Wait," Donna said. "She's not dressed yet." She handed me the next
package all done up in pink paper and lacy white ribbon.
I opened it, the largest of all, resigned to my fate. I held up the
gift inside, a pretty pink cami with lace around the bodice, obviously
well-worn, soft and comfy cotton, which I knew would fit because I fit
well in all of Donna's tops.
Donna unbuttoned my shirt and took it off.
I inadvertently covered my breasts, getting a hoot and giggles from the
crowd.
Donna pulled the cami down over my head gently and fixed it in place
around my torso.
I looked down to see that it had a shelf bra that somehow hugged my
"girls," as Donna called them, into a sort of cleavage.
"Nice boobs, girlfriend," said the loud woman.
"Thank you!" I said. I was starting to like her.
The next package Donna forced on me was nail polish. The name, of
course, was "Kitten Pink." She put it on my fingernails in a flash as
everyone milled around, ran to the bathroom, talked about this and that,
and just let Donna do her thing with me as if there wasn't anything the
least bit irregular about any of it.
I was starting to relax even more. Why couldn't life always be like
this? My good angel voice told me it was because you can't be drunk all
the time, silly.
"Off with your shoes, Kitten!" Donna said, pushing me hard and fast now,
totally in control, as always, but now not being the least bit coy about
it.
"Do we have to?" I begged.
"Of course, birthday girl," she said, handing me the last gift.
I opened it, and inside were a pair of pink rubber flip-flops with
delicate white flowers decorating the thong straps.
Donna said, "Too bad I didn't make you wear pink pants, then you'd be
totally matchy matchy. Or did you wear your pink panties I gave you
before?"
"I was saving them for tomorrow."
Jibes and laughter.
"Let's do your toes," Donna said, bending down to roll up the legs of my
jeans, showing my shaved legs and making it look as if I were wearing
capris.
"Please, no," I said, as Donna proceeded to slip off my shoes, revealing
my fuchsia nail polish.
"Oh my God!" Kate said, "Leave that color on her, Donna. It's perfect!"
"I will," Donna said, slipping my shoes into her tote along with my
shirt.
"She already had her toes done?" one of the women asked.
"That's a big surprise," Bart said.
"She really a woman," a guy added.
"Let's see your panties," another guy said, looking around for support.
Donna interrupted the discussion. "Put your thongs on, sissy, and let's
get going. We have shopping to do!"
"Tonight?" I asked, really meaning to ask, dressed like this?
"Yes," Donna said. "We have a busy weekend ahead of us."
"But she didn't get her barmaid lesson!" Sandi said.
"I'm so sorry," I said, putting my new thongs on and standing up,
holding my silly little purse in one hand, now looking totally pink and
prissy for all the world to see and not really caring at all.
"Well," Sandi said, "there is one way you can make it up to me?"
"What's that?" Donna said, taking back control.
I stood there holding my precious pink purse and watching them discuss
my future as if I were their toy or their pet, which I was I guess, my
head moving left and right, back and forth, as if I were watching a
badminton game, only I was the fluffy shuttlecock.
"You girls could come to my party tomorrow night."
"We'd love to," Donna said, "on one condition."
"Great! What is it?"
"Kitten will serve drinks and help you with the service and clean up and
all that. She'll be your maid for the night."
"Really?" Sandi said, looking at me.
Before I could open my mouth, Donna went on.
"And I'll bring her back in a couple hours so you can train her here,
after all these crazies have left, OK?"
"It's a deal!" Sandi said. "But a lot of these crazies will be there
tomorrow night. They're friends of mine."
"Even better!" Donna said, taking my hand. "Let's go, Kitten. This is
going to be an even better weekend than I planned. Now we also have to
make you pretty for a party."
I looked at Justin as Donna led me away to the cheers and jeers of our
newfound crowd of friends, several of them calling to us that they
couldn't wait to see how cute I would look as the maid.
But Justin was silent, and calm. He just stood there, very tall,
smiling at me and waving, as if he really cared.
I wondered if he would be at the party, and with whom.
[All positive and negative feedback is greatly appreciated!]
© Copyright 2012, by Leslie P. Lowe. All rights reserved.
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