Mistress Alice instructed me to walk to my local coffee shop in Brooklyn on a Sunday morning wearing only lingerie -- a shiny pink camisole and pink lacy panties -- underneath a long London Fog trench coat.
The coffee shop was about four blocks away and I was excited and nervous as I walked down the busy sidewalks of my highly gentrified, family friendly neighborhood.
I was absolutely sure that everyone immediately could see there was something odd about the bare legs beneath my coat and my lack of shirt above and peg me as some as some sort of pervert -- perhaps a flasher, if not a cross-dresser.
But I walked there without incident. I entered the coffee shop and ordered a coffee as I had been instructed. To my chagrin, a male barista was on duty, instead of the usual woman who works there, and he gave me only a brief second glance as he served me.
Mistress Alice was sitting and waiting in the coffee shop with a friend. After I left, they followed me, and a block later, I stepped into an alley where I opened my coat and showed my sissy pink cami to Mistress Alice and her friend and she recorded a video. She laughed her wonderful laugh as a family approached and I had to scramble to cover myself.
Just another fun day of service to Mistress Alice.
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