I am in the bedroom. I think it's my bedroom from childhood. It's as if I'm still living at home. The walls are foggy, and all I really see is my rumpled bed. I am apprehensive. The blanket is dark gray and made of wool. The sheets are light gray.

I am alongside the bed, crouched a bit, so that the lower half of my body is somewhat concealed by the bed. I am wearing stockings. They are beautiful, they fit me so well, and my legs look like a woman's legs. I especially like the way they look around my thighs

Yes, the thighs, where the fabric is darker. The dark fabric on my thighs is mysterious and sexy to me.My eyes are transfixed on the stocking tops. I feel like a real woman when I see my stocking tops like this, and the garter snaps fixed into the fabric. How simple yet complex, like a woman, those garter snaps are. Just a delicate push, and the fabric is caught and kept in place.

My panties are down around my thighs. I am touching myself, and as I squat, the lovely and arousing and forbidden sight of male genitals surrounded by female frills, I am in ecstasy. I am in such a prayerful, vulnerable position. Like a woman squatting to urinate. I look down and see the lovely stockings, and the panties, which are so taut around my thighs, and are open, and show all the lace.

I look to the door. I have left it open! Why, oh why have I done it? Why is SHE standing there?

SHE.She stands in the doorway. She is angry and scolding. She does not understand. I try to stutter and speak but the words stick in my throat. I want to say: "I love women. I love women's clothes. I love to feel like a woman sometimes. Please don't be angry with me. Be a woman and understand me, be a woman and come and hold me, be a woman and kiss my neck and tell me I'm pretty." Instead I am stricken mute, and I am in a panic.

I am struggling, I can't seem to get my panties on and cover myself. Nor can I take my panties down! I am stuck in this degrading position, and I am sort of squatting down lower, behind the bed,trying to avoid being seen. If only my voice could return! Please, oh please, don't condone me, don't condemn me. Just leave me alone!

She moves forward. I am desperate! I grab for the bed covers, and I cover myself, tangle myself in the covers, and somehow, I look down, and I am thankful that the offending panties and the garterbelt and the stockings are wilted on the floor. I have escaped! I am no longer wearing women's underwear!

Mylene, you are a fool! She has come around the other side of the bed. She stands in front of this embarrassing exhibit, the way a housewife would stand in front of the dog's accident.It is obvious that I was wearing these things! I shiver under the blanket, clutching it around myself.

In my embarrassment and shame, I shout, "Bitch! You Bitch!"

And suddenly...it is over. I wake. I shake my head at having dreamed this obvious dream of discovery. I am not angry now; I am not ashamed. The moment I wake, I think to myself, "This is so interesting, is it not? I was never "caught" as a child, although I think my mother knew. But it remains a fear. It remains a fear. Of course it does. I am always afraid to admit this blushing secret to someone. It will always be...a fear.