Arrivals: Lacy Place Lobby!

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This topic contains 17 replies, has 2 voices, and was last updated by  Miss Luzette 1 month, 4 weeks ago.

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    Pushing the intercom button I was immediately greeted with the cheery voice of my P.A. Amanda. “Yes Mr Madison?”

    “You’ve just sent the hotel reservation through for my conference next week. Wasn’t the Hilton available?” I ask.

    “Unfortunately not.”, she replied. “I called around and looked online but everywhere seems full. It seems there is a Pharma conference and an Insurance fair in town”.

    I sigh heavily, but sensing my disappointment, she chipped in with, “well your wife suggested this one Mr Madison?”

    “My wife?“, I replied quizically.

    “Uh huh. When she bought your lunch over on Tuesday. We were chatting and she recommended it. She said she’d heard great things about it. She was quite insistant”

    The voice of Sarah, one of the secretaries came over the intercom.

    “Oh yes Mr Madison. Only well heeled clientelle stay there”.

    Did I just hear sniggering coming from the other girls in the office.

    “Oh yes“, Amanda said, “you’ll be definitely be one of the well heeled clients Mr Madison”.

    The sniggering continued.

    “Am I missing something funny?“, I replied – somewhat annoyed.

    There was a deadly silence. “Not at all”, Amanda said sweetly. “I’m sure you will have a good stay – and of course your wife will be taking care of things while you’re gone. Everything will run smooth and silky.”

    I heard the intercom click as the line dropped as sniggers started from beyond the partitioning wall to the office.

    I shook my head and thought nothing more…

    A Week Later:

    I was miserable. The plane was delayed, there was no car to meet me, and the taxi driver was probably the rudest individual I’d ever met. On top of that, the airline carrier had lost my luggage. Luckily, a call to my wife had resolved some of the issues. She told me she would call ahead to the hotel and speak to the conceirge ahead of my visit.

    “Honestly sweetie,” she said trying to placate me, “It’s a really great hotel. They have a casino, spa, resort stores… everything. They’ll have you feeling like a new person in no time.  The conference will be great.  Think of the new business.”

    Pushing my way through the doors into the foyer, I was stunned at it’s opulence. I was expecting some kind of flea pit motel but this CERTAINLY wasn’t it. Beautiful women and equally handsome men were sitting on leather sofas off to one side laughing and joking, porters were coming and going, and the lobby seemed to be abuzz. Perhaps this could be better than the Hilton…

    I checked myself in one of the mirrored pillars, and straightened my brown, and slightly tousled hair.  With my slight 5ft 8in frame and piercing blue eyes, I wasn’t exactly the epitome of macho – but at 24, with my dot com company recently floated on the stock market I was going places.

    Fussing with my suit, I slowly but confidently walked towards the immense reception desk and was immediately greeted with a smile by the young woman behind it.

    “Hey there. My name’s Steve Madison. I have a room booked here for tonight.”

     Miss Luzette 


    I see a lone, young man walking towards my station so I freshen up my lipstick, remove the top button of my blouse and rub some perfumed oil between my breasts as you arrive:

    “Hey there. My name’s Steve Madison. I have a room booked here for tonight.” I giggle playfully and lick my glossy lips as I look you over:

    “Hi there yourself: Steve. ~giggle Welcome to the Lacy Place resort and casino where feminine beauty is celebrated in all its forms. I’m Carol the receptionist as you can see from the nameplate in front of me.”
    “I’ll also need to see photo IDs, forms of payment as well as the name and relationship of the person who booked your reservation, ‘kay? Is this the first time in Las Vegas sir? Were you here for business, pleasure or both? I ask that because we have an experienced concierge who can help you get the most out of your experience here in this desert oasis.”

    I begin typing into my terminal while checking your reactions from the corner of my eye.


    (OOC:  Apologies – I have been away)

    I smile, trying not to make an obvious point at staring at the top of your cleavage.

    “Oh ID, sure.”   I reach for my wallet and take out the company’s credit card and driver’s license.

    “There you go”, I say, sliding them over the desk.

    I watch you tapping the keys for a few moments.

    “I believe my wife called ahead.  A Mrs Sophie Madison.  The airline lost my luggage during the stopover.  It’s probably half way to Kazakhstan by now…”.  I let out a long drawn out sigh.

    “She said something about the hotel or concierge or ‘someone’ making arrangements for replacements or ‘something’. ”  I shrug as I watch you continue to enter my details.   “I have no idea what’s going on but yeah….”  I simply shrug.


     Miss Luzette 

    I giggle when you tell me: “I believe my wife called ahead. A Mrs Sophie Madison. The airline lost my luggage during the stopover. It’s probably half way to Kazakhstan by now…”.

    “Oh I hope it gets there and is swapped for some local clothes. The Kazakhs make wonderful knit dresses and beautiful peasant blouses. ~giggle! ~giggle! Yes I see your reservation now: It was prepaid by Sophie but arranged by an Amanda.”
    “It’s common enough here for your things to be lost in transit: I’ll be sure that the staff will provide more than adequate replacements during your stay. As to my breasts which you have been staring at, they are all-natural and would fill a ‘C’ cup bra if I were wearing one.”
    “My lipstick by the way is an expensive Guerlain brand from Paris; very creamy and with a sweet taste of strawberries. I am pleased that you have noticed, it is the theme of our resort after all. If you have any other questions or would like to sample a staff’s cosmetics for example, you have only to ask.” ~giggle

    I slide your ids down a slot into our lockbox and drop a dainty purse on the counter between us:

    “Welcome once again to your adventure here at the Lacy Place Resort and Casino. Please empty your pockets into our guest-only, identification case and I’ll get a maid to escort you to your room, ‘kay?”

    I lick my glossy pink lips at you and grin.


    I smile wryly at your comment about the peasant dresses.  You can tell I’m clearly annoyed about the whole situation.

    My eyes widen when you point out that I have been staring at your breasts.  As I begin to protest, you cut me off by telling me about your cosmetics.

    Why the hell is she telling me all this? I think to myself.  I don’t care what shade of lipstick you’re wearing, I don’t care how big your breasts are.  Please, please just let me get to my room.

    You notice I’m already tapping the top of the desk with my fingertips as you slide what looks like a pink woman’s purse in front of me.

    The look of confusion on my face is evident.

    “Umm…”, I point to the purse, “That’s a purse….my wife has one just like it.”

    I pause and look between it and you.

    “…and you want me to put my things into it?”

    You can tell I’m torn between your instruction and the ultra feminine item in front of me.

    “…do you have one in black… or less….you know…pink?”


     Miss Luzette 

    I giggle as you fume at me “Umm… That’s a purse….my wife has one just like it.…and you want me to put my things into it?…do you have one in black… or less….you know…pink?”

    “Really sir, she has a purse just like it? ~hee ~hee Well she must have had it for a very long time since that style is designed for pre-teens. ~giggle! Seriously that’s the one I’m expected to present but my supervisor is arriving to escort you; perhaps she can help.”

    An elegant, young Asian girl walks next to you as I explain your concern to her. She looks at her tablet for a moment and nods. Then she rubs your back comfortingly as she speaks with a slight accent:

    “Welcome to our Resort, sir: I am called SoonYee; I am the floor supervisor. Your Amanda has arranged and your Sophie has prepaid for a custom-designed and themed accommodation which requires that you carry your valuables in the pink, girl’s purse.”
    “If the color and style of the standard purse are that off-putting to you, I could authorize you to carry the formal, black clutch purse. Carol, show the gentleman that option please.”
    Carol blushes a bit as she slides the option next to the pink purse:

    As you reevaluate your situation, SoonYee opens the clutch and fumbles inside it as she continues: “If you insist on carrying this sophisticated, adult accessory sir, then there will be a further requirement.”

    She pulls out an equally elegant closed tube of what appears to be lipstick and places it next to the clutch. You now smell the Asian’s perfume which may cloud your thinking.


    As we stand there discussing, or rather disagreeing as to why I should be carrying around a pink purse, your supervisor arrives.

    My eyes widen when I see her.  Not only is she beautiful but also elegant.

    I stumble with my words a little, “I…your colleague…well she’s insisting…”.   I point to the pink purse.   “I don’t really think it’s necessary to….”

    In a comforting gesture she places her soft hand on my back.   Her perfume…. it’s exquisite…. delicate floral undertones, slightly oriental.

    “I mean….”

    My brain seems to switch into autopilot as I barely catch words about being authorized to carry something, and out of the corner of my eye I see a black clutch purse being slid over the desk.

    “The formal clutch purse is definitely better”….  No, wait, I didn’t mean to say that out loud.  

    I am just transfixed by her.  Each motion, each gesture.  Every piece and facet of her clothing from her necklace down to the strappy high heels on her feet

    “Your heels – they’re very pretty”….  Oh for fuck’s sake.  Why did you say that.   “Sorry, I didn’t mean….”

    I watch her pull out a small gold tube and lay it on the desk.   Something about an adult accessory.

    “…. it’s just I like strappy heels.   WOMEN who wear strappy heels…”

    I am incredibly flustered and am aware of Carol giggling behind the reception desk.

    I take a deep breath and try to compose myself.

    “Look, Miss SoonYee….I’ll take the black purse if you insist……”

     Miss Luzette 

    I twirl the lipstick tube in my hand and respond in a sweet tone to your responses:

    “The formal clutch purse is definitely better” “Oh yes sir; I could not agree more.”

    “Your heels – they’re very pretty … Sorry, I didn’t mean…. it’s just I like strappy heels. WOMEN who wear strappy heels…” I look down and begin to giggle as I pop open the lipstick

    “Oh you meant my shoes, hai! Yes they are very pretty aren’t they and they feel oh so good to wear with the air moving past the bare skin of my feet. It must be so hot wearing those heavy men’s shoes all the time, yes?

    “Look, Miss SoonYee….I’ll take the black purse if you insist……” “Oh yes your SoonYee, she insists that you hold the pretty black clutch purse in two hands in front of you, look at my Carol and do what she does with your mouth also.”

    I push the purse into your hands to keep them out of the way as you watch Carol open her mouth wide. Then I slowly paint two coats of thick red lipstick on your lips while Carol’s eyes laugh at you.

    “Do not move your lips; I do not want to smear the creamy red lipstick that now complements your elegant look. Maybe soon I can find you some, what was it, strappy heels in your size, yes. Now lick your lips and smile at our Carol.”

    I close and drop the lipstick into your purse and press my fingers against your crotch to measure your erection.

    OOC: Nice writing!


    Your fingers dextrously twirl the lipstick tube as my hands reach for the clutch purse from the desk – almost delicately. My eyes still on your movements as I bring the purse to my front, just as you instruct.

    Bringing attention to your heels once more, I look down.

    “Red ones….” I say quietly, remembering my wife’s birthday a month ago.  “I bought my wife red strappy heels.  It’s what she wanted.”   I begin to picture them in my mind.  “She wanted some…”

    “She….”, I pause, “she wears hers with nylons….” – adding to your remarks about your own feet being bare.

    I do not hear the imperceptible click as you open the lipstick tube.  I don’t even hear your instruction as my senses are overloaded with the sound of your voice, the smell of your perfume and some kind of desire to do what you ask.

    I don’t even remember my mouth opening as the lipstick touches my bottom lip.  My eyes are locked with yours as the thick waxy red substance is drawn across it.  I don’t even flinch as you apply it to my top lip.

    There is a disconnect – between the sensations and what is happening to me.   It’s as if it doesn’t matter that I’m standing in a public foyer holding a woman’s purse and having red lipstick applied to my lips by a complete stranger.  Somewhere in the back of my mind the feelings of this being “wrong” are washed over with whatever pheremones or chemicals in your perfume are making me so compliant.

    As you gently apply the second coat, my lips begin to feel creamy – the bright pigment utterly feminizing them.   Somehow they feel softer – nicer even

    It doesn’t even register that I mimic you as I lick my lips, nor does it register when I smile at Carol.

    As your hand cups my crotch, you notice I am still soft.  Not so much as a hint of arousal – as if somehow what you have done is “natural”, not “sexual”.  Perhaps almost as if somewhere in my brain, holding a purse and wearing lipstick could be construed as “normal” behaviour….

     Miss Luzette 

    I stroke your cheek softly with the back of my fingers as you gently purr: “Red ones….I bought my wife red strappy heels. It’s what she wanted…She wanted some…She….she wears hers with nylons….”

    I purse my lips at you as I turn your face towards Carol: “Yes of course. ,many women wear nylons with their heels as pantyhose or with garter belts or even girdles.  Which do you, I mean your wife prefer?”


    “Also it must have been very exciting for you to shop in such a feminine store.choosing, holding and even smelling the beautiful ladies high heel shoes with the delicate straps. And you even had an excuse or reason if you will; a pretty wife always wore them for you; how sweet.”
    “You know lots of men admire such shoes and would be eager to experience wearing them too but unfortunately for them they do not have the pretty wife so they cannot shop in the ladies store for them. That’s so sad don’t you think?”
    “Perhaps I have a solution but first you must look at the monitor above Carol’s head. It shows you getting your red lipstick applied and you smiling afterwards while holding your dainty rhinestone clutch bag. As per their request, Carol will be sending copies of this video to your Amanda and your Sophie and of course a live feed is always sent to the Managers’ Lounge.”
    “Now if you will empty your pockets into your clutch I will escort you through our busy lobby and see what we can do for your sore, tired feet; won’t that be fun?” ~hee ~hee

    I tap your nose playfully before hooking my arm in yours and walk you away from the Front Desk.

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    I listen with rapt attention and even adoration as you describe the underwear and hosiery women wear with their heels – hanging on your every word.

    “I like nylons with a garter belt”.  I pause  “On…my wife”, I add slowly for clarification.  “Nude or tan ones…with a lacy….”  I drift off slightly as you turn my head slowly to the monitor.

    “I used to watch her put them on”, I say quietly – my thoughts just spilling out of my mouth.  “….pulling the soft gossamer thin fabric over her feet and up her legs”…

    I turn back to you as you mention my wife and Amanda’s name.  A momentary flicker of fear or embarrassment.  My pupils dilating and nostrils flaring slightly.

    You draw my attention back to you very gently and calmly as you ask me to put the contents of my pockets into the purse.   I slowly nod as I gently unclasp the bag and begin transferring my keys, wallet and small sundries into it.  You watch as I delicately close it again and return the purse to its position in front of me.

    The look of approval in your face is evident, and somehow, somewhere deep down it gives me a warm happy feeling – especially as you gently grasp my arm and walk me away from the front desk.


     Miss Luzette 

    As I slowly walk you through the somewhat busy lobby, the female staff nod in respect to me, their supervisor and lick or purse their lips at you as they pass. I rub the top of your hand with my fingers as I explain:

    Look at yourself in the mirrored columns Steve and see what others see: An otherwise normal and quite ordinary man except that he’s wearing perfectly applied, bright red lipstick and is daintily carrying a very lady-like handbag.”
    “What intrigues me is that you feel quite comfortable being with me and looking like that. What intrigues me even more is that you are not objecting to my suggestion that wear heels and hose. That’s far more than a voyeur’s interest, sweetie.”
    “Now be honest with me: Have you worn ladies pumps before, often perhaps and with gartered stockings? The same applies to lipstick: You did not get stiff when I painted your lips; does that mean you wear it frequently at home or elsewhere?”

    We begin to descend from the top of a 30 foot escalator to the high fashion mall below. It’s perfumed air rises to embrace us and introduce us to this world


    Once on the floor and away from the escalator, I turn and face you: “How long have you been cross-dressing, how extensive has been your experience and who else knows about it? My apologies if I have totally misjudged you but the dampness in my panties suggest to me that I am on to something, yes?”

    I step back so that others can see you and react.


    Somehow you rubbing the back of my hand feels comforting – a disarming gesture perhaps.  Something to make me feel more at ease.  Your proximity to me feels somehow electric but also reassuring.  The smell of that exquisite perfume still assaulting my nose in small wafts.

    You pull me to a mirrored pillar to see myself.  I look…silly.  Masculine with bright red lips and a pretty clutch purse.  I want to say something.  I want this to stop but the rubbing on the back of my hand is gentle and calming.

    “Now be honest with me.  Have you worn ladies pumps before…”, you ask

    I stifle a little noise.  Not really words – as an image forms in my mind from a long time ago.

    “I…….I……”.   The image of slipping my feet into a pair of my grandmother’s heels as an adolescent.  Curiosity… not even sexual…but remembering how comfortable they were with the low block heel.

    You can tell I’m flustered.  The image forming more as I remember my feet and legs in her pantyhose.

    “It…was an accident…..” I say quietly.  The image pulling back to reveal myself in one of her dresses


    The reassuring rubbing continues.

    “I didn’t mean to….  my grandmother.  I put on one of her dresses and shoes when she was out once”.

    You begin moving me to an escalator.   “I….never my wife’s things.  I just….. it was that one time..  It wasn’t sexual I promise!”

    You look at me – just rubbing my hand… letting me just blurt everything out.  “…..who else knows?“, you ask.

    “Nobody…. I promise.   Look I’m, just a normal guy……it was just once.”

    The image pulls back to see me fully dressed in her clothes from underwear to outerwear, amateur makeup and lipstick applied.  Every sensation coming back – the comfortable cotton panties, the softness of the pantyhose, the padding of the shoes.  The way the dress brushed against my legs….

    “Please….”, I say quietly.   “Don’t tell anyone….”

    As I turn back from you to face forward, I realise we are in what looks like a huge mall.  Stores stretch all around me – women’s clothes stores catering for every age and style… from senior to adolescent, provocative to conservative.  I can already feel my face is red hot as we step off the escalator.

     Miss Luzette 

    As I walk you through the mall, I shake my head and cluck at you wnen I hear you say:

    “I didn’t mean to…. my grandmother. I put on one of her dresses and shoes when she was out once”. “No little boy wears his granma’s shoes and dress only once sweetie. Listen: All us girl either had brothers or gossiped about what those who did saw them do.” ~giggle!
    “You know what that means? It means someone caught them. From the stories I’ve heard, it starts with lipstick because the guy is in and out quick and can jerk off in the bathroom before he washes it off; sound familiar?”
    “Then it’s panties and a bra after the boy has showered and grandma and the others are gone. Only then do they put on the dress and rarely do they use shoes because their feet are too big and the heels can break.”

    Then I stop you in front of a 12 foot sculpture of a high heel shoe in the middle of the mall:


    “Grandma never wore one of these, did she? She’d be afraid of falling by that age. In her younger days with stronger calf muscles she’d turn a guy’s eyes with one though, wouldn’t she?”
    “This sculpture was commissioned by Mister Michael Kors himself, a leading fashion designer from New York, when he made his store here the Western Flagship of his chain of boutiques.”
    “We could see if there’s a sexy heel that you fancy in your size: That is if you think you could walk in them without stumbling. The price will be added to your room tab so Amanda and Sophie will know of the purchase and the shoe size. Think about it!”

    I rub your back and blow gently in your ear before leading you a few doors down to their open showroom.



    I listen to your monologue with abject embarrassment.

    “But…but it WAS only once…” I protest quietly, as if so other people didn’t hear.  (A futile attempt seeing as I am already wearing bright red lipstick and carrying a diamante purse).

    My head is on a swivel, turning this way and that as we walk – the lights of the stores and their displays acting as magnets to my attention – different strains of music wafting out of open doors.

    I feel as if your eyes are on me all the time – like some kind of predator, watching my head movements, what I am looking at.   Any small gesture to give me away – all the time lulling me into a false sense of security with the gentle back rubs or how you stroke my cheek or hand as we walk.  That mere hint… to spot that weakness so you can strike.

    And within moments you have it….  a “look” – just a look – that few seconds too long.  The subtle craning of the neck, the half-body turn, the blush……

    …a vintage lingerie boutique.  Not your average flimsy bit of satin but old fashioned quite severe “shapewear”.  Purveyor of the finest girdles, panty corselettes and other fiendish garments to compress, shape and give that old fashioned “traditional” look to a woman’s lingerie collection.

    There….  the double-take as we walk past.  A split second gesture that speaks volumes.

    …and in the 15 seconds it takes us to walk past, your brain is already formulating a plan.

    We reach a boutique and you guide me inside.  It seems up-market and strains of some unknown baroque concerto are being played over the tannoy.   I feel INSTANTLY uncomfortable.   You can almost see me shrink into myself as my eyes scan the entire store in a microsecond.

    A moment of vulnerability as I switch the position of the purse I am holding into one hand – my other slipping into yours… much as a child does with their mother when uneasy and looking for reassurance.  I catch sight of myself in the mirror with my lipstick and purse, as I feel momentary self-loathing that this is happening to me – but the gentle squeeze of your hand and it’s gone, like leaves on the wind.

    You lean into me.  That perfume…. so exquisite… so calming.

    You lead me towards racks of shoes, and some mounted on little pillars, as your predator instinct comes to the fore once more.  Just watching my head…my body language…my gaze.

    “But I can’t wear women’s shoes”, I say quietly, as your hand gently pushes me one step forward towards the racks.

    “I’m not a….”

    My eyes fixate on a pair of shoes.

    ….strappy, high, elegant – with clear over the toe detailing, designed to show off as much of the foot as possible.

    Was it your imagination or did my arm move mere inches as if I wanted to touch them?

     Miss Luzette 


    As I’m walking you through the mall after showing you the sculpture and telling you where I’m suggesting we go, I stop to review on my tablet, my other tasks for the day. I guess I got engrossed because when I looked up, you were gone.

    There’s a lot of open entry stores and even a public restroom nearby though I’d probably have heard by now if you walked into either of them. ~giggle So I take a seat on a nearby bench and relax for a moment.

    Meanwhile….. A gentle finger taps your shoulder and when you turn you see

    “Welcome to Harlequin’s; you can call me Puck. That’s quite a look you are trying to achieve; understated but provocative nonetheless. How may your Puck assist you?” The clerk twirls like a ballerina in front of you and stops with her face next to yours.

    OOC: You’re writing both sides of the story now which destroys my continuity. If I have to guess ‘what should my character do now’, I’ve lost control of the thread. Since there can be only one leader, I’ve relinquished control to you. This is actually easier for me; lead on!


    OOC.  Sorry.  As I can’t edit my previous reply, I’ll just stop and leave things at that.  I was trying to be more descriptive.  I apologise.

     Miss Luzette 

    OOC: Why are you now Anonymous? I can’t message you when you are like that. Did you want to break off this thread or leave LiL? The easiest way to continue, if that’s your intent, is to decline Puck’s offer and return to SoonYee in the mall aisle.

    If you leave it like this, there’s nothing for me to do since SoonYee doesn’t know where you are and Puck is waiting to help you. ~sigh!

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