One man had undressed me in public and written his cell number on my breast! Worse, I had no regrets, none at all. Quite the reverse, in fact. I liked...being looked at. I liked being the object of men’s fantasies. I could never go back to the old me. The clothes I chose to wear to work more and more began purposely to evidenced the body beneath. I wore thin lacy bras when I wore one at all, and thongs or more often, nothing at all under my short tight skirts and dresses. I grew to love the. I'd also wear my flat blacksuede boots... knee length.Underneath it was black lace wonderbra, and high cut matchingpanties. Tucking myself back between my legs, I dressed...loving the feel of the different materials.Once dressed, my favourite bit... the final look in the mirror.I was surprised... I looked good. Not ravishing... but betterthan I expected. I could still be read... but I was in a bedroomlight... not in the dark outside.I picked up my trenchcoat... it's grey... dark... and comes. More

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