The Real Raquel

I watched myself in the full-length mirror and thought, "This is crazy." But I continued.

Then, I pulled the cami on and stepped into the jeans. The stretchy material showed my tight calves, thighs and hamstrings. I hitched them up, the crotch helping hold me in place and the seat wrapping my rounded butt. I tucked in the cami, zipped the jeans up and put on a belt to keep them above my hips.

Then I put on the t-shirt. The thin, tight pullover clinging to me like a second skin. My breasts prominently on display. The scoop neckline showing just the slightest of cleavage. The full-length sleeves covering the hair on my arms.

My jewelry included a silver rope-style open bangle bracelet slipped on my right wrist, a faux 1-carat diamond magnetic stud on my left ear, two 3-inch thin silver clip-on hoops for my right ear staggered so as to give the illusion of a double piercing, and tiny 0.05-carat magnetic faux diamond stud on my left nostril.

I slipped on my suede ankle boots and pulled up the zippers with their little suede tassels. They added about 2 inches to my height.

Getting dressed up had taken my mind off of what I was planning to do that evening, go out and face and talk to people while crossdressed. But here I was, about to take that step. Then it occurred to me, they don't make women's jeans with any kind of real pockets. The pockets in mine were barely 2 inches deep. I needed somewhere to keep my rental car keys, hotel room keycard, ID, credit card, some cash, lipstick, cigarettes and lighter. I would have to go on a quick shopping trip. I found a nearby Belk.

This was no big deal. It was the kind of outing I had made in the past and I wasn't even wearing a full slate of makeup or wig. The face mask required to enter stores these days would even hide my lipstick. I was just wearing women's clothes. Oh, and I had breasts. Whatever. I was gaining at least a little bit of confidence. I was in and out of Belk in just a few minutes with a cute small cognac colored crossbody bag. The cashier complimented me on my boots. I thanked her and found something about her to compliment, something I've noticed women always do.

I left Belk and headed to the bar. About 25 minutes later, I arrived around 8:30 pm.

When I pulled into the parking lot, I noticed only a handful of cars. Good. I got out of my rental car but couldn't force my feet to move. I was scared. With shaky hands, I got my cigarettes out of my purse and lit a Virginia Slims Menthol SuperSlim to calm my nerves. I stood in the parking lot of the bar, which was in a small strip mall, smoking and stared at the entrance while I steeled myself.

When I was finished, I put on my face mask, walked up to the door, pulled it open and walked in. When my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I found myself facing three empty stools on the short end of an L-shaped bar about 15 feet away. There was a couple seated around the corner of the bar and a group of three guys a little further down. Nobody looked gay. Maybe I'd made a mistake. But, what do gay people look like? The bartender, a woman in her mid-fifties looked over at me.

Oh hell, what have I gotten myself into. I could just turn around and leave and no one would know the difference. No, I going to do this, I said to myself.

I walked in and sat on a stool. I set my purse down on the bar.

"Hey, honey. How are you doing?" the bartender asked. The other patrons' heads turned towards me.

"Fine, thank you." I practically whispered.

"This is a private club, but membership is only $1. Can I see your ID?"

"Okay." I pulled out my license and handed it to her.

She got out a membership form and started writing. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

"You can just put that down." I pointed to my driver's license.

"No, what do you want to be called?"

I meekly replied, "Raquel."

"Okay, Raquel. Is this a good address? Don't worry, your information won't leave here."

"Yes. That's right."

She finished filling out the form, then handed me my membership card with my name handwritten. It said, Raquel Brown.

"What'll you have, Raquel?"

I stared at the cooler at the far end of the bar. "I'll have a Fat Tire." It didn't look like a place that served mojitos or cosmopolitans, but I could be wrong, It was truly a dive bar. I looked around. Besides the bar, there were just a handful of empty tables. There were several pool tables and maybe a foosball table or two and a jukebox. Nobody was playing any music at the time.

The other patrons had returned to their own conversations, but I thought I heard disparaging comments as they occasionally glanced over, or it may have been my imagination, as the blood was pounding in my ears and I could barely hear anything. I tried to be still so I couldn't be seen, maybe I'd become invisible. Maybe I'd finish my beer and dart out of there.

When the bartender brought me my beer, I pulled off my face mask, revealing my red painted lips to the world. My hands were trembling as I raised the brown bottle to my lips and took a swig. I looked at the opening of the bottle and saw the lipstick print and a calm came over me. The first beer went down quickly. She saw I was empty and asked if I wanted another.

"Yes, please."

When she brought it to me I asked her name. "I'm Valerie," she replied.

"Thanks, Valerie."

I pulled my lipstick out of my purse and applied a fresh coat as I sat at the bar. I was extremely self-conscious of how I looked as I glanced down at my breasts and adjusted my bra.

A "Best of Comedy Central Celebrity Roasts" played on the TV over the bar and everyone was commenting on their favorite comedians. As I relaxed, I joined the conversations and the other patrons warmed to me. As it turned out, one of the three guys, Patrick, I think it was, had a birthday coming up and we happened to share the same birthday. Turns out, they were gay, I finally surmised by their conversations.

I chatted with the couple to my left. Later a young guy entered with a guitar in a soft case. He ordered a beer and went out to the back patio to sit there and practice. I ordered another beer, went out to have a smoke and listen to him play. I sat near the other end of the patio. He was not paying me any attention, but when he finished a song, I clapped for him and complimented his voice. He said he hadn't been playing but for about a year, but he was really good.

Everybody there was apparently a regular. I was clearly not, but they were kind and treated me like one of their own.

I was seated back at my stool when the guitar player came in for another beer. While he waited at the far end of the bar, I told Valerie to put it on my tab. He raised his beer to thank me and returned to the patio.

It was almost midnight, closing time. As Patrick and his friends left, he said, "Bye, Raquel! It was nice meeting you, honey."

"Bye, Patrick. Happy birthday!"

"Happy birthday to you, too, sweetie pie!"

I had to pee and went to the restroom. There was only one. Earlier, when I had gone, I didn't pay attention to whether it was the men's room or lady's room. As I was exiting, I realized there were no urinals and thought I had automatically used the lady's room and thought, "What the hell, I'm a girl, tonight."

I was the last one to leave the bar. Valerie had to unlock the door to let me out.

"Thanks for stopping by, Raquel. Hope we see you again."

"I'm heading back home tomorrow. This was my first time out, you know. Thanks for everything."

"Well I'm glad you came in. Have a safe trip home."

I wasn't gang raped. I wasn't forced to suck any cock. I just had an enjoyable evening. Back at the hotel, though, I did break in that new anal bead vibrator. Mmmmmmmm!

I am the real Raquel and I'm a crossdresser.