| Prolog | |
| Chapter 1 | Discovery |
| Chapter 2 | Dreaming |
| Chapter 3 | Conspiracy |
| Chapter 4 | Validation |
| Chapter 5 | Pursuit |
| Chapter 6 | Envy |
| Epilog |
| Chapter 8 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 26 |
| Chapter 29 | Chapter 41 | Chapter 43 |
I have been seaching for photos and drawings from the 70's that depict the pants I saw. The only thing I have found so far is this Frederick's of Hollywood advertisement. If you have, know of or can suggest any more sources please let me know.
Anyone who has invested very much time in hunting for something has experienced to some degree a rush of excitement upon finding what it was they were hunting for. It could be the perfect house, the perfect scarf to match those lavender pumps, or the largest possible TV that will fit in the den. The more time spent searching for it, the lower the likelihood of finding it, and the greater the desire for it, the greater the rush of excitement upon finding it. Another thing that intensifies the experience is surprise, to come across it when least expected, particularly at a time when it was not actively being sought. Describing what exactly the rush of excitement feels like is impossible, partly because different people will experience it in different ways. One thing that should be universal to the experience is a profound sense of "Yes! That's it!"
I have had numerous such experiences related to my fetish for women's clothing. The occasion might be seeing a store-front window display, finding something on the rack, a photo in a magazine or a scene on TV. By far the most intense reactions occur when I see a woman in the flesh, passing by on the street, on a bus, at school or work, or at a party.
This is a detailed description of the best such fetish sighting I have ever had. This is not fiction -- everything I describe actually took place. It happened in the fall of 1971, while I was a student at the University of Hawaii at Manoa. In addition to the play-by-play I have mixed in some background in order to clarify why I reacted the way I did. It is by no means a complete accounting of my fetish history up to that point, only enough to illuminate the events I describe.
Sandy Beach
November, 1996
