Marianne‘s Revenge

By Cissy Gaye

 

 

 

 

When I was dating Marianne, she knew I liked dressing as a woman and being humiliated. She enjoyed dressing me up and she really got off on abusing me, so we had many wonderful times together. One night as I was getting ready to pick her up from work, I thought it would be fun to see her face if she got in the car and found me sitting there in drag.

 

I painted my nails and did my best slutty girl make-up job before I left home and I pulled into a dark empty corner of a nearby shopping center's parking lot to effect the change. I had a lovely white lacy bra and gorgeous white satin panties on under my male clothes. I was squeezed into a boned corset that pushed up the flesh of my chest to create reasonably attractive cleavage and I was also wearing a wonderfully lacy white nylon full slip, tucked in to my jeans and all bunched up around the tops of my legs. My pantyhose was already on and I had my 4 inch black stiletto heels with me. After looking around to make sure I was alone in the area, I climbed out of the car, took off my shirt & pants and put on a sexy white crepe ruffled blouse with lacy trim and a plunging neckline that highlighted my carefully constructed cleavage. Then I added a silky calf length blue print skirt. I tied a matching blue silk scarf around my neck and reworked my long strawberry blonde hair into a more feminine style. Some dangly clip-on earrings and a gold chain bracelet completed my transformation. Then, with my pulse pounding, I drove over to pick up Marianne.

 

It was always so intoxicating to be out in public in drag and this journey, with its extra touch of the forbidden, was no exception. Although I’d had a number of “adventures” with public crossdressing some years before, I had decided I was lucky I hadn’t been found out by my male friends and I felt I’d pushed my luck enough. For the last few years, I’d rarely gone out in drag except for Halloween or costume parties or the occasional night time foray around the block, so being out like this, and knowing I would be surprising Marianne, made it all the more delicious. Working the pedals in the car with heels on was a bit of a trial, but feeling the breeze from the open window blowing my hair and fluttering the ends of my scarf was wonderful. I pulled into the parking lot of the store where Marianne worked and found a spot. I waited with my heart racing and my cock straining at the imprisonment of the panties.

 

What I hadn't counted on was Marianne coming out of work with another girl!

 

They both walked towards my car and I was paralyzed. Thank God the motor was still running and I was just about to pull away and make my excuses later when the other girl veered off and walked to her own car on the other side of the lot. I couldn’t believe how close I’d come to discovery.

 

Marianne got in and her jaw dropped. I was afraid she'd be angry, as she could have been very humiliated by this too if her friend saw me. But she laughed and said, “Timmy, it would've served you right if I’d have been offering Carly a ride home.”

 

 We went back to the parking lot where I’d changed and sat and talked for a while. Something about seeing me in drag always made Marianne aggressive sexually. She grabbed me and we started making out, then she gave me an incredible blowjob. She followed up, as always, with a long kiss, during which she shared her mouthful of my cum with me. Finally, we decided to get moving before a cop came to check on us.

 

I stepped out of the car to change and Marianne slid over to my seat to watch me. First, I took off the skirt and handed it through the window to her. She looked at me with a mischievous grin and said, "You know the diner 2 blocks down?"

 

I said, "Sure."

 

She said, "See you there," and she drove away.

 

I couldn't believe it! I had told her of previous public crossdressing events when girls I'd known had stranded or humiliated me and later she confessed that she did this to me so she'd be a part of those delicious memories.

 

There I was, standing in a dark parking lot, wearing all white – a frilly, ruffled blouse and a lace-trimmed silky nylon slip. I knew I was very visible if anyone was watching. Fortunately, the stores were all closed, but to be standing in the middle of the lot would look very suspicious if the police came by. So I headed for the sidewalk at the front of the lot. Crossing that lot on 4 inch heels was no easy feat! I was shaking from sensory overload as my pantyhose swished against itself inside my thighs. The perky little scarf at my throat fluttered in the cool breeze that blew across the lot. The scarf ends danced around in my peripheral vision,. I felt like such a faggot and I began to put more wiggle into my hips, both to flaunt my sissiness and to make walking in the towering heels easier.

 

There wasn’t that much traffic on the street, but there was enough. I was utterly mortified. It would have been terrifying enough just to be in drag, but walking along in what was very obviously my slip was unbearably humiliating.

 

I looked down at my legs and noticed that the slip was quite wrinkled, probably from being bunched up around my waist when I was still in male clothing. I tried to smooth it out as I walked towards the diner and I had to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Here I am, strutting down the street in female underwear and my biggest concern is that it looks wrinkled!

 

Every car that passed me made me wonder who was in it and what they could see. Could they tell I was a crossdressing faggot? Could they tell this silly little bitch had lost her skirt? Were they laughing at me as they went by? Would anyone stop? Or turn around and come back? My cock was throbbing with the exhilaration of my total embarrassment and it started to make a little tent in the front of my slip. Terrified at the thought of giving myself away like that, I pushed it back down and tucked it between my legs as best I could.

 

The feeling of the lace-trimmed hem of the slip rubbing against my knees and the breeze flowing up between my legs was incredible. I was captivated by the flutter of the lace trimmed sleeve ruffles softly teasing the backs of my hands as I tried to keep my elbows tucked to my side so my arm movement would be feminine and loose-wristed. At each corner, I would glance around to see if anyone was paying particular attention to me, but it appeared as though I was alone. I realized that even if the lack of a skirt went unnoticed for some reason, I would immediately look suspicious to any woman who saw me since I wasn’t carrying a purse. A man might overlook that, but never a woman. I was so scared and turned-on all at the same time. I was partly furious at Marianne for doing this to me, but I was also kind of happy she’d decided to humiliate me this way.

 

I walked the two blocks in an erotically charged daze, swishing my slip with my fingers and wiggling my ass more than necessary in case Marianne was nearby watching. When I got to the diner, I couldn’t see my car. I stood there for a few moments debating my next move, somewhat hidden by the hedge that marked the boundary between the diner and its neighbor, a small house converted to law offices. The diner was all chrome and neon with large windows across the front. The tables visible through the windows were all full. They were doing great business. The area in front was all very brightly lit pavement for dropping off and picking up people at the front door. The parking lot was on the other side of the building. For all I knew, Marianne was parked over there waiting for me.

 

I knew if I walked past the front of the diner, the patrons would all be able to see me, but the alternative was to skulk around the back in the shadows and who knew what trouble that could cause? Standing where I was might be safe for a few minutes, but anyone pulling in or leaving could spot me. I debated whether walking across the street to see into the parking lot was a feasible alternative. The diner was close to an intersection and there was just too much traffic to make crossing the street the simple solution I sought. I stood there on the verge of panic, terrified and wondering what to do, when Marianne pulled up. She smiled and waved, then glanced around, as if to assess the geography. As I started for the car, she gave me another cheeky little wave and pulled slowly away from me right towards the front of the diner.

 

Oh no. She’s going to make me walk out there to get into the car, I thought.

 

To make it worse, she just kept going. Right past the front door, right past the window full of customers, right into the parking lot. Then I saw the brake lights glow and the reverse lights flash briefly as she put the car in Park. That was it. She was absolutely going to make me walk over there. I was freaking out, begging her under my breath to back up and spare me this punishment, but I knew the only way I was getting out of this predicament was by exposing myself to public ridicule.

 

I took a deep breath and started across to the parking lot. She’d probably wait until I was out in front of the window, then start beeping the horn. Turned out she didn’t have to bother. I glanced at the window and saw a tableful of women notice me walking by in my slip. Almost immediately, they were looking and pointing and laughing. I could feel the hot flush of shame coloring my whole face and neck.

 

She saw the laughing women in the diner and it cracked her up. As I reached for the door handle, she put the car back in Drive and moved it forward slowly. I had to walk alongside in an ungainly trot to keep even with it as I tried to open the door. A glance over my shoulder revealed that my audience was growing – some teenage girls were pointing and laughing and a guy walking down the diner’s front steps was watching in amusement as he lit his cigarette.

 

Looking back, I could see that the door lock was down, so I couldn’t get in even if I caught up. I stopped my sissified wiggling trot and stood there as Marianne stopped the car a few feet away. She looked back at me and laughed.

 

The women in the diner were in hysterics. People from other tables were getting up and coming over to the window to see what was so funny. I glared at Marianne and stamped my foot like a petulant girl. I figured, what the hell. I was completely humiliated already. Why not play it up and really make a total ass of myself? I walked toward the car and, as I reached the door, Marianne pulled away a few feet. I put my hands on my hips and stamped my foot again.

 

Suddenly, Marianne put the car in reverse and backed up, past where I was standing, to nearly in front of the diner’s front steps. The guy was still there, smoking his cigarette and watching the proceedings with a grin. As she stopped the car, Marianne turned the wheel a little so the front of the car turned towards me. Suddenly, I was caught in the beams of the headlights. I put my hands on my hips and stared at her.

 

She nodded in the direction of the diner’s front windows. I glanced over and there was fifty or more people standing there watching my public humiliation. I moaned, spun around and started to walk away. Marianne beeped the horn. I looked back. She held my skirt out of the window of the car and waved it at me, making a face that clearly said, “Nyah, nyah, nyah”.

 

A glance at the diner showed that everyone saw it and understood what was happening. They were rolling in the aisles. I was almost ready to cry, I was so mortified. And, worse, my erection was starting to pop up again. I turned so I was facing the street and tried to act aloof, hoping Marianne would take pity on me and end this ordeal. Tears sprang forth and rolled down my cheeks. My heart was pounding and no amount of fidgeting was going to convince my cock to sit back down.

 

Then I heard the sound of the car engine die. I looked over and Marianne was getting out from behind the wheel. I watched in horror as she walked around the back of the car and headed for the diner’s front door carrying my skirt with her. I turned to try and intercept her, but my cock was really sticking up now and I could see I’d never reach her in time anyway so I turned away and wept. But I had to know what she was doing so I glanced back over my shoulder.

 

She had my skirt folded over her arm. She went through the door and reappeared in the midst of the crowd watching me through the window. She handed my skirt to the women who’d been the first to notice me. I was devastated. She stood there talking to them for a couple of minutes. Whatever she was saying, they were really enjoying. They broke out in laughter several times. Finally, they appeared to agree on something and Marianne turned and left. She came out the front door, stopped long enough to bum a cigarette from the guy on the steps, then walked over to me, laughing.

 

“Feel like an asshole yet?” she asked.

 

“Yes,” I moaned. “Why did you give them my skirt?”

 

“So that you’d have to go in to get it back,” she said with a wicked grin.

 

“No way I’m going in there,” I said. “Haven’t you humiliated me enough?”

 

“Nope.” She looked back over her shoulder and waved to her new friends in the diner, who all started laughing again. “Besides, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

 

I gestured down at my tenting cock and said, “Yeah, a little too much to go in there like this, don’t you think?”

 

“Well, yes, if they still thought you were a woman…”

 

“What?!?”

 

“Well, now they know you’re a guy in drag, so your cock sticking up is kind of a moot point.”

 

“What did you tell them that for?” I nearly screamed.

 

“Relax, silly,” she said. “I told them this was an initiation. I said it was my job to embarrass you as much as possible tonight for a fraternity you were joining.”

 

“Oh no, tell me you didn’t do that.”

 

“’Fraid so.”

 

“But I’ve been out here prancing around and acting like a priss.”

 

“Yeah, I know. Makes it a lot more humiliating, doesn’t it?” she said with a wicked grin. “Matter of fact, someone mentioned something about that.  I told them I thought you were secretly enjoying all this. And I also told them not to let you have the skirt right away. I told them to make you work for it.”

 

“What!!!?”

 

“They seemed to like that idea. I gave them a couple of really cruel suggestions, but I have a feeling they’re going to come up with some good ones on their own. So here’s the deal, “ she said as she pulled back her cuff to look at her watch. “You have two minutes to go in there. If you’re still standing here after that, I drive off and leave you here. And you can explain to whoever has to let you in at home because I’ve got your keys. And don’t think you can take them away from me, because I’ll bet my friend on the steps there will get physical with you.”

 

“Why are you doing this to me?”

 

“Because it’s fun, because you get off on it as much as I do, because we are going to have incredible sex after you get through being totally degraded and humiliated in there and because you deserve it for pulling that stupid stunt tonight, coming to pick me up in drag. You wanted to up the ante? Consider the ante upped. Look at you, crying like a little faggot. Your makeup is ruined, you look like a slutty raccoon, you’re standing in front of a diner wearing a slip and a frilly blouse being watched by a bunch of people who know you’re a guy and your cock is standing up like you’re getting head all because I’ve made a total fool of you. This is the least you deserve and you know it. Now, you go in there and do whatever they tell you to do. Because the only way you’re getting back in that car tonight is with your skirt on. Understand?”

 

And with that, she went back to the car, got in, locked the door and made a big production of looking at her watch. The faces of the crowd in the window were filled with cruel anticipation. The guy on the steps lit another cigarette from the remains of his first, then flipped the spent butt away. He smiled at me.

 

Marianne shook her head sadly, pointed at her watch and mouthed the words, “One minute to go.”

 

I couldn’t think, I couldn’t move, I couldn’t believe she was doing this to me.

 

The woman holding my skirt held it up in the window, prompting a laugh from her fellow patrons.

 

Marianne mouthed “30 seconds”.

 

How could I walk home from here dressed like this? It was almost ten miles. My feet would be swollen and probably bleeding by then. And Marianne was right. I’d have to get someone to let me in. Either my mother or my sister – neither of which was a pleasant thought to contemplate.

 

“15 seconds,” Marianne mouthed and she started the engine of my car.

 

Oh my God, I thought. I’m going to have to go through with this.

 

She put on the headlights again, lighting me up where I stood.

 

My audience was waiting.

 

Then I remembered what she said about how great our sex would be tonight. Oh well, I figured, at least there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. I just hope it’s not an oncoming train.

 

I squared my shoulders and with all the dignity I could summon, I walked toward the front door of the diner. As I reached the steps, the guy with the cigarette said, “ Good luck, honey, you’re going to need it.”

 

I strutted past him and went up the steps. I stopped at the door for a second, took a deep breath and then went in.

 

The woman behind the cash register was in hysterics. Several waitresses were standing there as well. They began cat-calling and whistling at me. I strode by as best I could with my legs shaking from fear.

 

One of the waitresses said, “Hey, honey, your slip is showing.” The whole place exploded in laughter. I felt myself turn an even deeper shade of red. I turned to look at her and she stuck her tongue out at me. Her friends all congratulated her on her wit.

 

The crowd parted as I approached, opening the way for me to reach the table with the women who had my skirt. A couple of teenage boys called me a faggot queer and a fucking homo as I went by. The teenage girls at the next table reached out and flipped up the hem of my slip as I walked past them. More laughter followed.

 

I stopped in front of the table of women. They were in their late thirties or early forties. Two of them were really gorgeous – real movie star material. The other two were plainer, but still nice-looking. They were dressed as though they’d just gotten off work, maybe from some upscale boutique or jewelry store. The blonde nearest the window had my skirt in her arms. Her red-haired friend beside her looked me up and down and said, “I like your taste in lingerie, dearie.”

 

Our audience laughed appreciatively.

 

The two brunettes on the other side of the table gave me frank looks. “Well,” said the closer one, who was wearing a gorgeous red satin blouse with a nice black wool skirt, “what can we do for you, sissyboy?”

 

I tried to clear my throat, but my voice, when it came, squeaked out, causing another round of laughter. I cleared my throat again and said, “I’d like my skirt back, please.”

 

“That’s no way to ask,” were the blonde’s first words. “You can start by curtsying and by saying May I.”

 

The crowd loved that one.

 

I imagined that I must be a shade of dark maroon by now, the flushes were so intense. I gripped the hem of my slip in my hands and gave as dainty a curtsy as I could.

 

“May I please have my skirt back?” I said. The crowd broke out in more laughter and cat-calls. After a moment, the blonde signaled for quiet and they all settled down.

 

“I’m afraid that’s not good enough,” she said. “I think I want to see you do something to amuse me before I’ll let you have your skirt back.”

 

I could see Marianne through the window. She was sitting on the hood of the car, watching and laughing.

 

“What do you want me to do?” I asked.

 

“You forgot to curtsy,” she said.

 

The crowd buzzed with a titter.

 

I curtsied and repeated, “What do you want me to do?”

 

She pretended to think about it, but it was pretty clear that the first thing had already been decided. “Take off your blouse so we can see all of your pretty slip.”

 

“Please don’t make me do that,” I pleaded.

 

“Curtsy,” she reminded me.

 

So I did and I repeated my plea.

 

“You want this skirt back?”

 

“Yes.”

 

She just made a face and I understood. I curtsied and repeated my answer.

 

“Then you’re going to have to do what I said.”

 

The titters and giggling and comments grew louder. Out on the car hood, Marianne was smiling from ear to ear.

 

Slowly, I unbuttoned my blouse and handed it over to one of the brunettes. Laughter and catcalls filled the air. The blonde made the face again and I curtsied automatically.

 

The chill air in the diner combined with my fear and humiliation to give me goosebumps, yet at the same time I felt as though my skin was on fire. I began to tremble and tears began to leak from my eyes.

 

The blonde looked me over and said, “Okay, now, take the slip off.”

 

I begged her with my eyes but I knew there was no chance of a reprieve. So I curtsied and took off my slip, handing it to the redhead, who said, “Satin panties, how adorable. You’re quite the sissy, aren’t you?”. The audience was howling.

 

“A corset!” said the brunette nearest me. “Wow. Bet that’s uncomfortable.”

 

“Not as uncomfortable as he’s going to be,” said the blonde. “Pull out the front of your panties and the pantyhose, too. Just a bit, so we can see if you have anything in there.” That brought another onslaught of hilarity and I was, by now, blushing purple.

 

I curtsied clumsily, with no slip hem to hold, then I pulled the waistband of the panties out away from my body a couple of inches. The redhead looked over and down, then shook her head slowly to the crowd. “What a tiny little dick you have,” she said. That’s when the crowd lost it. The teenage girls at the next table nearly fell out of their seats in hysterics. One of them was laughing so hard, she started to hyperventilate.

 

When the crowd calmed a bit, the blonde said, “Well, maybe we can help it grow a bit. Now let’s see…what makes things grow?”

 

She pretended to look around, then, acting as if a big lightbulb had just lit up over her head, she said, “I know. Water.”

 

I cringed.

 

“Becky,” she said to the brunette closest to the window, “would you do the honors?”

 

Becky was having a lot of trouble catching her breath, but she managed to pick up her water glass, bring it over to the spot above my held-open pantywaist and she gently poured the half glass of water into my groin. It leaked right through and soaked my pantyhose all down my legs. It soaked the panties clear through to my ass. The crowd was almost hushed until I gave a little moan of humiliation, then they cheered. The blonde gave me the look and said, “What do you say to Becky for being so helpful?”

 

I curtsied and said, “Thank you.” The onlookers guffawed.

 

“Cindy?” the blonde prompted and the redhead leaned over for another look at my partially visible anatomy. If anything, my dick had shrunk from the ice water.

 

“Mmmm. Doesn’t seem to have helped, Ann,” said Cindy with a look of mock sorrow.

 

“Janet,” said Ann. “Would you be so kind…”

 

Janet, the brunette who was holding my blouse, took her water glass and poured its contents down the front of my panties. The crowd was in stitches. Marianne was just sitting cross-legged on the hood of my car, laughing her ass off. Ann gave me the look, so I curtsied and thanked Janet.

 

“Cindy?” prompted Ann again.

 

Cindy checked and shook her head. “Nope, no progress yet.” Then she took her own water glass and dumped the contents down my front. I curtsied and thanked Cindy without prompting.

 

“Easy,” said Ann. “We don’t want to drown the poor little thing.” That cracked everyone up again.

 

“That’s right,” chimed in Janet. “If you over water it, it’ll never grow.”

 

Each comment was bringing another round of laughter from the crowd. I was so totally mortified I couldn’t even move.

 

“Hmmmm, well, what can we do now?” asked Becky.

 

Ann said, “I know. We can feed it. Nourishment’ll help.”

 

She took her plate, a half eaten salad, and lifted it over to my waist. With her fork, she shoveled the lettuce, tomato and cottage cheese into my panties. The crowd loved that. I curtsied and thanked her. Cindy checked.

 

“I think it’s still hungry,” she said.

 

Becky stood up and leaned across with her plate. She’d been eating linguine with a red sauce. It all went down into my panties.

 

Curtsy. Thank you.

 

Cindy checked and reported, “Nope, still hungry.”

 

One of the high school girls shoved through to my side. She held a plateful of pancakes dripping with syrup. The women at the table laughed and gave her the go-ahead. She eagerly scraped the plate clean down into my crotch, grinning at me with lusty teen sadism. She stood there wearing her mean grin as I curtsied and thanked her.

 

“Oh, you’re welcome, faggot,” she said, returning to her seat amidst a chorus of approval from her friends.

 

Cindy’s report was, “I think that’s starting to help.” And with that, she took her own plate, more than half filled with the remains of her tuna salad platter and shoved it down on top of the mess already in there.

 

An older woman, mid-fifties maybe, approached with a plate in hand and caught Ann’s eye. Ann nodded her permission and the lady added a full bowl of oatmeal to the mess in my crotch. The people were just shaking their heads in amusement by now. The laughter had worn them out. But Ann knew just how to pick up the pace. She was a real crowdpleaser, that gal.

 

“You know what we need?” mused Ann.

 

“What?” asked the crowd, almost in unison.

 

“Protein.”

 

The crowd buzzed as Ann signaled over the waitress who’d made the crack about my slip showing.

 

“Can I get some eggs?” she asked. “Say a dozen?”

 

“Sure, how do you want them?”

 

“Raw.”

 

Everyone went nuts, stomping their feet, screaming with delight. I stood there, shivering in humiliated anticipation. Marianne had used eggs on me several times. They were very disgusting and embarrassing.  I could feel my cock starting to wake back up.

 

A few minutes later, the waitress delivered a Styrofoam egg container with a dozen eggs in it. She gave me a cruel smile as she stood back a couple of paces to see what Ann was going to do next.

 

“Turn around,” said Ann. I curtsied and slowly turned. There were about thirty people still watching, mostly women and teen girls. The men, I later learned from Marianne, had grown disgusted with my pathetic obedience and left.

 

I felt an egg being slipped inside the back of my panties’ waistband. Ann maneuvered it until it was against my tailbone, then she said, “Cindy, choose your weapon.”

 

A moment later I felt the thud as some sort of implement crashed against the lump in the back of my panties. The egg collapsed and spewed its slimy contents down the crack of my ass. The goo puddled in the crotch of my pantyhose and began following the path of the water down the insides of my thighs. It was incredibly erotic and unbearably humiliating all at the same time. I gave a little involuntary moan and Becky said, “Oh I think he likes that.”

 

“Then go ahead,” said Ann. “Your turn.”

 

Becky took an egg, placed it inside the waistband of my panties and maneuvered it into the same spot as the last one. Then she took another and put it above the first. A second later, something smashed them both and a double dose of slimy egg innards burst forth across the cheeks of my ass before following gravity’s call.

 

“Yes,” said Cindy. “Look at his little dicklette trying to stand up.” That brought another wave of hysteria and, this time, a woman at another table actually passed out from laughing so hard.

 

Janet went next, with three eggs down my panties. Then Ann took two and put one down the front of my corset. She cracked it with the dull edge of a knife, looking me in the eye and laughing. She took the second one, cracked it gently on the edge of the table, then slipped it into the band of my scarf, against my neck. Then she grabbed my head and made me nod, bringing my chin down on the egg, crushing it. The egg slime spit out and ran down my chest into my bra. Ann had the most deliciously cruel look on her face the whole time. Then she handed me the last four, two in each hand.

 

“Smash them on your own head,” she told me. I curtsied and complied. As the egg sputum ran down my face and dribbled over my ears, Ann conferred with the waitress again. This time, when she returned, the waitress was carrying one of those gigantic diner pies – the ones with a half-foot of whipped cream on the top.

 

“Hope you like lemon meringue,” she smirked.

 

Ann handed me the pie. “Take it out to your friend,” she instructed me. “She’ll know what to do with it. Then come back in and we’ll give you your clothes back.”

 

Walking out past everyone was incredibly hard. The shame was nearly unbearable and my hard on was quite obvious. They all felt free to smack me on the ass with their hands or newspapers. The mess down my panties squished noisily and spread around my hips. The residue that had run down my legs inside my hose was dribbling into my shoes. The egg shells down my ass made crunchy noises as they were rubbed back and forth. It was all so gross and yet so very exciting. I’d never been so totally degraded before. I giggled to myself as a thought flashed into my head – What would Marianne ever do to top this?

 

I carefully carried the pie out to Marianne. She was literally shaking with laughter. She took the pie and slowly, gently, she pushed it into my face. I could smell the meringue and the lemon as they pushed up my nostrils, clogging my breathing. I felt the cream cover my face all the way back to my ears. She smeared it around and then took the leftover and smeared it across my chest and scooped out the last and put it down my corset and panties with the rest of the meals.

 

“You must feel like the biggest asshole in the world right now,” she gloated. I daintily wiped some cream from my eyes, nodded my head in agreement and, without thinking, curtsied and thanked her.

 

She held out my wallet in her hand. “You really ought to pick up the check, you know,” she said as she extracted several twenties from the wallet.

 

I took them, then I turned and went back inside. One of the waitresses was standing just inside the door with a little disposable camera and, as I walked in, she took a shot. The flash blinded me a bit and I stopped in my tracks. She said, “Hold it,” as she wound it to the next frame and took another.

 

I went back to Ann’s table. The crowd had mostly moved back to their seats now. They were still chattering and laughing over my humiliation, but they sensed the show was over. Ann and her friends were enjoying their coffee. They neither looked at me nor spoke. I put the money on top of their check and waited. They just handed me my slip, waited until I realized I was expected to put it on, then handed me my blouse and waited while I put that on, too.

 

I stood there for a moment, then carefully curtsying, I asked, “May I please have my skirt now?”

 

Ann looked up, her face the very essence of innocence. “I don’t have your skirt,” she said with a sweet smile. Then she glanced out the window, which I noticed was open a little. There was Marianne getting back into the car. She held my skirt out like a victory flag, flapping in the wind, as she pulled out of the parking lot and turned down the street in the direction of the shopping center where the entire escapade had begun a few hours and a lifetime of humiliation ago. Ann gave me the most cruelly smug look I’ve ever seen. I fell totally and hopelessly in love with her in that moment. Then the crowd laughed me out of the diner.

 

The walk back was a blur. I was so overloaded on humiliation, I couldn’t even conceive of worrying about anything else happening. Fortunately, nothing did, except for when a car filled with the teenage girls from the diner went by and they were honking and yelling and laughing. But they kept going. I’d been used up, I guess.

 

I found that Marianne had parked in the furthest corner when I finally got back to the shopping center parking lot. She turned the car off and held out the keys to me as if to say, "Here, hold them yourself if you don't trust me."

 

I took them from her, reached into the car, put them back in the ignition and started the car again. Then I stepped back and said, "Do with me what you will."

 

She climbed out of the car and kissed me really hard and, as she wiped off the meringue that had stuck to her face, told me she loved me. Then she got back in the car and, as I undressed, she teasingly drove a few feet away. She’d move another couple of feet each time I handed her another item of clothing. Just to tempt fate, I took off the slip as well and she drove ten yards away. I walked over in my bra, panties, corset, pantyhose, heels and scarf, the food squishing around in my crotch and down my legs, feeling more vulnerable and erotically charged than I'd ever felt before. As I'd reach the car, she'd move it a little further. Finally, after making me chase her across half the lot, she let me into the back seat where I sat on a towel while she drove us to the beach.

 

It was very dark at the beach and there was no one else around.  It was our favorite “petting” spot. Marianne washed me off in the water, then hosed me down at the faucet by the edge of the parking lot. She toweled me dry before we lay on a blanket and fucked like mad animals. She came several times before I had the most explosive orgasm I’d ever had. As we lay back smoking our post coital cigarettes, Marianne laughed and laughed at everything that had happened, from my expression when she'd first pulled away to the sight of my panties leaking gooey foodstuffs as I stood on display in front of all those people. She said it served me right for coming to pick her up in drag.

 

“So, have you learned your lesson?” she asked, giving me a gentle smile and a soft kiss.

 

“I think so,” I told her.

 

“And what have you learned?”

 

“That next time I come to pick you up in drag, I’d better wear an outfit that I don’t mind seeing get ruined.”

 

“Oh, you are going to get it but good, girly-boy,” she said.

 

“I hope so,” I said. “I’m counting on it.”

 

 

 

 

THE END