Good morning, everybody.
It was night. I was in a restaurant with my old friend ML. We may have been with some other friends. The restaurant we were in was dim, lit by candlelight. The restaurant may have been a French-style restaurant or fancy cafe.
ML and I walked up to a bar on the opposite side of the restaurant from our table. We were apparently going to order desserts from the bar, like the bar was actually a coffee and pastry counter. There was a stand-up card display of desserts. There may also have been a fold-out menu.
ML may already have known what he wanted. I had to look for a minute to decide. I felt like ML was a little disappointed in me. I felt like he thought that, by getting dessert, I was overeating. I may have thought that I could make ML less disappointed in me by getting a light dessert rather than a heavy one. But I may have decided on some kind of chocolate-coated chocolate cheesecake with some kind of sweet, red shavings or sprinkles on it.
It was night. I was in a small bedroom a few floors up in a small apartment building. The bedroom probably wasn't mine: I was probably just watching it for somebody. The room was cluttered. It had two beds, both of which were piled up with the room owner's belongings. In addition to watching the room, I may also possibly have been assigned to ordering the room so that some of these personal belongings could easily be moved out.
I had been facing a bed along one of the short end walls. I now noticed that the bed to my right had some piles of neatly folded clothes all stacked up under something that looked like a broken-apart desk. I looked closer at the clothes and saw they were mainly women's clothes.
Then I saw some panties. The panties were kind of tiny, maybe for young girls, probably too small for me. But I figured I'd try to wear them, anyway. I tried on one pair of panties. They may have fit, but I wasn't satisfied with them.
There were a second pair, which I thought were lovely. They were also tiny. The hips had a wide look to them, like a mix between boy-short panties and bikini panties. They were white cotton, but they had childish, purple designs on them, maybe like letters and numbers. There may also have been a "pocket" design somewhere, like the pentagonal house-shape of the back pockets of jeans, except really small.
I may have wanted to try on these panties. But as I did, I could hear three or four old people down on the sidewalk outside. They were having some normal conversation. They were completely unaware of me. But I thought that if I could hear them right now, they might be able, at any point in time, to see me trying on these panties.
I think the people who owned this apartment knew I was a bit of a transvestite, and they didn't care. But I didn't want other people to know. I wasn't even really afraid of the old people downstairs knowing. What I was more worried about were younger guys walking past the building, accidentally seeing me, getting angry, and deciding to get violent with me. So I decided not to try wearing the panties, even though I liked them a lot.