By: Barrie James

The other day I was sitting with my wife outside on our front porch. The breeze was soft. We were each sipping on a wonderful glass of German white Auslese wine, and we were having good conversations on everything from the situation in Major League Baseball, to Newt's interpretation of a "New Order," and the terrible act of cowardice that revealed itself in Oklahoma City.

We were into our second glass, when my wife asked if I'd heard about the crossdresser at the O.J. trial. I said I had, but that I didn't actually see anything on the news. She asked if I thought the guy might be in jail. I said, "Probably not, because dressing en femme isn't illegal in California." I did draw a little chuckle when I mentioned that on the other hand, he might have been arrested for stupidity, and for "misrepresenting crossdressers" like myself.

Then, she asked, "Have you ever had any close calls with the police while you were dressed?" "No." I said, "but there was one very close call when I was in college, before I even knew what a transvestite was." "Really ?! Tell me about it."

"Well, I had gone to class early one day. When I arrived, there was a note on the classroom door my professor had written. It said that all classes were canceled for the day. Not one to miss an opportunity, I decided I would go over to the student union, play a little bridge, and mess around with friends for awhile. Since my dorm was between where I was, and the student union, I figured I would drop my books off.

"I arrived at my room, threw my books on my desk, and was heading out, when I noticed another note, this one on my closet door. My roommate would be gone all day on a field trip. Before leaving the room and heading over to the Union, I decided to change my shirt. So, I took the one I had on, and threw it in my ever-growing pile of dirty clothes, and started going through my drawers for a clean shirt. Of course, in the back of one of the drawers was where I kept some of my feminine things.

"I was only into experimenting with articles of women's clothing at this time of my crossdressing life, so all I had were some black lace panties, a garter belt, a black lace bra, and a pair of black textured hose. As soon as I touched these special items, I could feel myself being turned on, and I knew it was only a matter of minutes before I would be indulging myself with these pretty things.

"Ninety-nine percent of the time, I didn't wear my girl things unless it was dark. I guess I thought someone could see through blue jeans or some thing. Anyway, this day, my roommate was gone for the day, and I had three hours to kill before I had to go to baseball practice.

I slowly opened the door to my room, and checked for voices/other people down the hall. All was quiet. So, I locked the door, stripped down to nothing, and slipped my legs into the panties, and up over my buttocks. The garter belt was next. Then I slid the hose up my shaved legs (my legs were always shaved, because I had to have my ankles taped, my left knee wrapped, and my right thigh wrapped for baseball), and fastened the garters to the tops of the hose. Finally, I put on my bra, stuffing the soft, lace cups with a pair of socks.

"I walked over to our full-length mirror to admire how I looked in this sexy lingerie, and was becoming more turned on by the second, when there was a knock at the door! I froze, trying not to make a sound. Then, there was another knock. "Anybody home?" came the voice. Damn, it was the maintenance guy! I recognized his voice. As I was desperately searching for someplace to hide (in my one-room dorm), I noticed a note on the lamp. "Dave, the fluorescent lights over the dresser are out. Thanks for coming over today to fix them." Damn, I thought. My roommate called maintenance!

"Then, I almost panicked completely. Actually, I may have almost died. I heard the key in the lock! In one motion, I pulled my bra straps down off my shoulders, and jumped under the covers in my bed. About a second later, Dave opened the door. I feigned sleep. He must have bought it, because he was very quiet. He replaced the lights, and was gone in a minute. I thought for sure that he would hear my heart pounding through my chest, or see my "breasts" moving under the covers, but he didn't.

"After he left, I stayed in the bed for a few minutes just trying to stop shaking. Finally, I got up, undressed, got into my male clothes, and sat there at my desk for a good half hour taking deep breaths, and attempting to calm down. Everything sort of worked out. I went over to the Union, but didn't play any bridge. Instead, I just had a coke and talked with my friends."

"So, that's it?" she said. I took another sip. "Yup. I guess it was more nerve-wracking to me at the time, because it happened to me. I mean, at that time, I didn't know if I was gay, mentally disturbed, or some kind of freak." I said. "And now?" she asked. "Now, I'm happy." We both smiled, toasted each other, and finished the rest of the bottle of wine. It was a great evening.