Boro Of Queens

by Tanya Mazurek

  

It was an unusually warm day in the spring of 1967. The high school senior was riding the subway just like any other teenager of that era. At first glance, the slender boy with the slicked-back hair looked almost nondescript with black-rimmed glasses, loose almost purposely-bland clothes, and carrying a satchel that appeared to contain books and the kind of things that would not raise too many eyebrows.

A stranger came up to the boy and asked him directions. He answered cordially, however, with a clear message that he did not want to engage in prolonged conversation. The boy felt an itching sensation on his face and instinctively took his right hand out of his pocket to scratch it. A woman sitting across the subway car couldn't help but notice that the young man had very long, manicured fingernails. Her eyes widened a bit and the boy noticed it and kind of smiled. He quickly put his hand back in his pocket.

The boy got off at the Flushing station and kind of stood there wondering if he was crazy to undertake this adventure. He took a piece of paper out of his pocket and in his most casual manner, grabbed a cab ride to 115 110 Street. The cab let him of in front of Sandy's Beauty Salon. After some hesitation, the boy went inside.

The overwhelming smell of hair products hit his nostrils instantly. An older woman with impossibly red hair and a thick Italian accent greeted him. The Salon was closing in about 45 minutes on this early Saturday night and the boy must have appeared lost and about to ask directions. Instead, the boy simply said, "I am Barry from Jamaica". Her eyes lit up and at the same time, she appeared startled. "I was expecting you" she murmured and glanced at her watch and added "as soon as I finish with this client".

Barry had found this salon quite by chance. He had concocted a story so silly that it almost sounded real. He called several Beauty Salons in Queens (but not near his house in Jamaica) and told them that he was anxious to play a trick on his friends and exact a revenge for some pranks that had been done to him. The truth is that he had few friends as he spent most of his time, energy and money on dressing in women's clothing. However, Barry was not particularly good at it. He had the body and the face to more than just pass as a woman, but he needed guidance and training.

One of the last customers lingered to chat for a while and Barry pretended to be uninterested. However, he was more than just a bit curious about the mysteries of a Beauty Salon. He was an only child with a mom who did not pay much attention to her looks. His dad had died a few years before and it was a lonely existence for the boy.

Maria, the redheaded lady, smiled at him and asked him to sit in her booth towards the back. The Salon was almost empty and Maria told Barry to relax. They had spoken by phone and Maria had quoted him $200 to do his nails, work on his hair, apply makeup and help him with his clothing. Barry had cooked up an elaborate story that somehow seemed unimportant as he sat in the salon chair with the late afternoon sun streaming through the salon windows. Either he had gotten used to the smell of the beauty products or he was starting to relax when he closed his eyes and put his head back in the large, inviting chair.

Another employee approached smiling. She introduced herself as Rhonda, a manicurist with a thick New York accent. Rhonda had a throaty voice and sounded like a Mafia wife but a kindness and gentleness that seemed incongruous with her voice and gruffness. She held Barry's hand and her eyes kind of narrowed and she said "so, you been doin' this a while, huh?" Barry was taken aback, he sputtered "uh, no, I was just kind of playing around with my hands and stuff this week". Ever the diplomat, Rhonda said " I suppose you been playing with your hair and eyebrows this week too, huh". She had noticed that as Maria started to comb out Barry's hair, several key bobby pins had fallen out. It was clear that Barry slicked back his hair with grease to hide the length and wore glasses to hide the fact that he tweezed his eyebrows a bit.

Barry's hair was about nine inches long in the front and three inches long in the back when fully combed out. He took great pains every day to go through a ritual to hide the length of the hair. He went through a daily ritual to grease his hair fully, finally resorting to bobby pins. For the most part, no one suspected as Barry had mastered the art of melting into the scenery. He simply knew how to not stand out from the crowd.

Barry wore a loose sweater and even looser pants. His satchel contained all his feminine attire and some extras in case they were needed. He had the whole thing worked out. Get made up, go to the costume party, pretend to be there on a bet, and change back to his boy clothes, take a taxi and leave and no one would know or care about it.

Maria combed his hair out and Maria examined at his hands and face and they sat back and just looked at him. Finally, Maria spoke, "you are only 18, yes?" (actually Barry was still in high school and was actually 17). "You have kind, soft features, but your face for a woman will appear much older". Barry gulped, "how old?" The beautician softly sighed and said "I think about 30", she went on, "it is your features that are just right for a woman in her late 20s or perhaps 30. If you try to dress as a teenager, you will look like a bimbo, yes?" A bimbo, thought Barry, unless I learn how to act and dress I can't help but look like a bimbo. He knew that he always used too much makeup.

The women went to work on the boy as the sun slowly set. Barry hardly noticed. He had a window of up to 4 hours to go to the costume dance and since no one knew him there and no one was expecting him at a precise time, he just sat back and relaxed. One of his goals was to see if he had enough hair to pass as a woman. In 1967, long hair on boys was still not the norm and he knew that he needed to get his hair cut or be teased and socially forced to cut his hair. Maria felt that she could work with his hair, but because it was a mousy kind of light brown, she suggested a rinse. Barry did not know what she meant and she did not make herself fully understood in English. She tried to explain; finally Barry asked her if it was permanent and she said no so he told her to use the rinse. In fact, he said that he would just close his eyes and relax.

Barry did close his eyes and tried to ignore all those strange smells and irritations to his face. Maria and Rhonda made small talk among themselves, talking about guys, other women, and fashion. It briefly occurred to Barry that they did not think of him as a "guy" or they wouldn't talk like that. Anyway, he could feel the curlers expertly put into place and just as he was starting to doze, felt a sharp pain around his face as if someone has used a hot liquid. A soothing lotion that made everything feel okay within a minute followed the pain.

About an hour later, a net was placed over his hair and he went under a hair dryer. He was the only customer at this time and no one seemed to notice. After a half hour, Rhonda had him come back to the chair and both Maria and Rhonda decided to put on makeup to reflect a 30-year-old woman. Barry pointed out that he was going to a costume party and Rhonda suggested, "hey, you could just look like a chaperone". Barry realized that any party co-sponsored by the "Teen Council of Queens" would have to have chaperones. Anyway, he had asked for the costume to be as real as possible. Barry had wanted to learn how to do his hair, but that did not happen. However, he paid close attention, as the women applied the makeup. His beard was very light, he had shaved very closely and he realized that with the thick foundation needed, he would no longer look like a teenager when wearing makeup.

About three hours had passed and it was pushing 7 PM when the women removed the curlers and applied finishing touches to the makeup. There would be even more finishing touches after he got dressed. When Barry turned around, he was both fascinated and horrified. Maria never explained that the rinse would change his hair color from light brown to an almost strawberry blonde. The rinse had contained peroxide and coloring and that was what he had smelled. To make matters worse, Barry thought that he was just getting his hair curled and set, however, in order to give it extra body to maximize the length, Maria had used a semi-perm. When Barry had asked if it was a permanent, she truthfully answered no, failing to mention that it was a semi-perm! And the pain that he felt on face, was an eyebrow wax that gave him pencil-thin arched eyebrows.

Barry was numb and could not speak. He wanted to crawl in a whole and die. The women sensed that he was unhappy and Rhonda cheerfully volunteered that the semi-perm would wash out with a few washings and Barry could cut his hair. After a few minutes, Barry sensed that the woman wanted to help him get ready for the party or leave. It didn't seem all that important to them. Barry bravely grabbed his satchel and went into the other room. He came out wearing a low cut evening dress with a bustier with nylons and low heels. He was 5 foot 8 inches and did not want to appear to be too tall. Both women gave him the once over and Rhonda commented, "If you keep your mouth shut, no one will guess".

The women worked with him for another 45 minutes and Maria started glancing at her watch. She seemed distracted and clearly wanted to go on her way. Rhonda, on the other hand, took her time and kept giving Barry suggestions on how to walk, sit, and even stand around holding a glass. She also kept asking him if his friends will ever let him live this down. She even suggested that he try to learn to dance!!! By this time, it was 8 PM and Maria was leaving. Barry paid Maria and gave them each a $15 tip (a lot of money to the boy).

However, as they were winding up and Rhonda was getting ready to close the shop and leave, she turned to Barry and suggested that she give him a ride to the dance in Jamaica. Barry, by this time, just wanted to go home. He was dressed in a low-cut tight evening gown. His eyebrows were waxed, entire body shaved, had a semi-perm and long polished finger nails and matching toe nails and open toe low heels and instead of a beautiful demure female, all he saw in the mirror was a guy in a dress. He didn't think that he looked very good. He had just called a cab and was wondering if it was too early to sneak back into his house. His mom was away for the weekend and if no one was on the block, the taxi could let him off and before you know it, he would be in the safety of his home figuring a way out of this situation.

Barry told Rhonda, "The guys will figure this out. I just am not cut out for this". Rhonda eyed him and her face lit up. She exclaimed, "You need a hair piece!". She went to a cabinet and found a swatch of hair that almost exactly matched the color of Barry's hair and sat him down back in the chair. She whispered, "Don't tell Maria that I gave you this". Yeah, like I will ever have that conversation with Maria thought Barry. But when Barry looked in the mirror, the hairpiece that fit snuggly to the teased part of his hair at the top of his scalp fell gently down to his shoulders. He just looked like the real thing. Rhonda took out a Newport cigarette and offered one to Barry that he graciously accepted.

Rhonda and Barry sat for a few minutes and Rhonda broke out a whiskey bottle. She filled up a purse-sized flask for Barry and gave him a pack of Newports. She laughed, "I always take a small flask to relax and the Newports will allow you to smoke instead of talking". As they got into Rhonda's 1960 Ford, she turned and asked him a obvious question, "what is your name?" Barry had never said his femme name out loud to anyone before. However, he had a library card, a bowling card and various other IDs with the name of Kitty Funderburg. That was his mother's maiden name. However, she married and Kitty was a nickname that she never used as an older woman. Barry had taken her old identity cards and recycled them with a different DOB.

"OK Kitty, you are going to have such a good time if you just relax and have fun and don't let anyone bring you down." Their eyes met and clearly Rhonda understood knew that he had a hidden agenda and nothing needed to be said. She went over a few things that he needed to do to protect myself. He was to put his guy stuff discreetly out of the way, keep his ID cards in his purse and when he finally reveals himself to his friends at the party, it will be one big hoot. She wondered out loud, "How far will you go before you tell everyone?" Barry only shrugged and belatedly said, "maybe right away, maybe after a while" (translation: when I get caught). The problem, of course, was that Barry was going to this without any friends present and with no plan whatsoever.

Rhonda could sense that the boy was nervous. The night had turned a bit chilly and Kitty had not planned for that very well. She had a shawl or wrap that matched the dress that would have to do. Even now, by 9 PM, she was chilled. The car pulled up to the front of the Chapman Pavilion on Northern Boulevard. The number of people out and about and all that noise and all those lights distracted Kitty. Rhonda bent over to kiss Kitty on the cheek, with a knowing smile. Kitty was now starting to panic a bit and shake slightly. Rhonda asked Kitty to calm down, adjust her makeup and take on the world!!! Kitty checked her makeup, lingering as if she recognized that she was facing the unknown getting out of the car. Rhonda gave one last glance and sped away into the night. As Kitty took those first shakey steps, she realized that she had left her satchel of guy stuff in Rhonda's car, had no clue how to reach Rhonda and had only her purse and shawl!!!!

Kitty literally swirled around, only to catch a fleeting glimpse of Rhonda's car as it turned the corner. Kitty's back was to the Pavilion entrance and she stood frozen, not knowing whether to laugh or cry or just die. She turned around to face the costumed crowd and to her horror, the "costume party" was one of a few people in a half-hearted attempt at dress-up. She had taken the promos literally and thought that this was going to be a huge Mardi Gras event. Instead, it was mostly guys dressed normally and girls dressed normally and a few minor attempts at half assed costumes.

Kitty assessed her situation. Without the guy satchel, she had no credibility that this was just a hoot and she could change back into Barry. The hair and eyebrows probably would make her look like a beautician anyway when she becomes Barry again. Furthermore, she did not come to meet anyone in particular, however, people at Jamaica High knew Barry Loman and she wasn't sure that Rhonda was being truthful when she gave her all those assurances that she looked great.

Kitty Funderburg needed a brake and she got one. As she approached the dance entrance, she realized that if she just went to the adult section, filled out a name card and entered, maybe no one would notice. All the attention was at the teenage entrance and the adult entrance was dimly lit giving Kitty at least some confidence. Furthermore, the glances that she got were more like older guys checking her out rather than laughter. She noticed a few glances and she smiled thinly. No come hither look, just passively, disinterested and friendly.

Kitty walked into the huge dimly lit hall. The party was for the community at large, however, no drinking was allowed and only adults over 18 were allowed to smoke. A huge punch bowl was off to the left and a second one was set up over in an area clearly intended for the over 18 crowd. Kitty realized that there were many teens and many guys over 25, but the woman over 25 were few and far between and generally homely as sin. Kitty, in this dimly lit hall on this Saturday night was the Queen of Queens. She was arguably in the top 5 adult woman in terms of looks and style in that Ballroom.

Slowly, Kitty made her way over to the punch bowl. Suddenly, she realized that she had a small flask of Genuine Kentucky Whiskey in her purse. She went over to pour a glass of punch, when if by magic, a dark-haired main about 35 swooped in and filled a glass and handed it to Kitty. Kitty smiled and nodded. The man appeared anxious to start a conversation and just as suddenly stopped and melted back into the crowd. Kitty started to panic. Did he "read me"? Did he see that I was a guy? Anxiously, Kitty glanced around and saw nothing unusual. Perhaps the Police have been called she thought.

Kitty went quietly into a corner and added the Genuine Kentucky Whiskey to the punch. It didn't seem to taste like alcohol, she thought. She then lit a cigarette in her dark little corner of the Ballroom and tried to relax as she assessed the situation.

For about 15 to 30 minutes, Kitty people watched. She had a seat closely behind the adult area punch bowl and got up only to refill her glass of punch. The flask was about ˝ empty when Kitty realized that she was at the very least tipsy. How could anything so sweet and harmless as punch do this? Oh yes, the Genuine Kentucky Whiskey.

Kitty had practiced being a lady many times. All it took was a little alcohol, music, full female attire, a dimly lit Ballroom, a complete makeover, a chance encounter with a friendly beautician, a pack of Newports and voila!!! A femme fatale is born!!! Actually, Kitty, loosened by the alcohol, was relaxed, yet fully aware that she had better be very careful or else. She decided that the Ballroom was getting so crowded that she would just be one of many and no one would notice. As a guy, maybe that is true, however, as a strikingly attractive strawberry blonde in a room of woman that were not nearly as attractive, it was just a matter of time before the wolves would descend on her.

Kitty decided to stand up and have another cigarette. At that moment, out of nowhere a nice looking guy about six feet tall asked her to dance. It was a fast dance and the frug and similar go go dances were all the rage. Kitty got up, encouraged by the alcohol and danced. The guy smiled and she smiled back. They danced another dance and then she thanked him and went back to her little corner, terrified that she will have to open her mouth. She had practiced talking like a woman and realized that her combo Brooklyn-Sourthern Belle accent worked best as an adult, not as a teen, Moreover, if she keeps her comments short, with all this noise, she could do it.

As if they had rehearsed it, the guy introduced himself, made some small talk, sensed that Kitty was not all that interested and walked away. Actually, Kitty was pretending to be shy and it came across as not interested. Kitty poured herself another punch and added the Genuine Kentucky Whiskey and lit a cigarette. It was nearly 10:30 PM and the place was packed with mostly teens and Kitty was getting to the point where she was started to really feel the Genuine Kentucky Whiskey!!!

A guy came over to talk to her during one of the quieter moments when the DJ was not playing loud fast Rock. He asked her name and she said Kitty with hesitation and without hesitation, he said "pretty kitty" and she giggled. In the recesses of her brain, somewhere Barry was horrified, but not Kitty. The DJ decided to slow things down and play a slow song. The guy instantly asked Kitty to dance. They were about the same height (with Kitty in heels) and she just went for it letting him lead the way. Actually, there wasn't much room and they kind if swayed back and forth slowly. Kitty was wearing a tight cocktail dress that had a low-neck line. It made Kitty giggle to think that the guy was staring down her neckline. In the crowd, he pulled her in very close; very close.

All of a sudden, she felt something! OMG! It was a chubbie!!! Instead of backing away, Kitty pulled him in closer so that he was literally against her pelvis. Fortunately, she was taped and strapped in pretty good so he would never know that she had her own big chubbie. The guy, out of nowhere, let his hand move from her hand to her back and then slowly down towards her butt. As his hand reached her hips they swayed to and fro to the music. And the song ended and Kitty just smiled and walked back to her seat. Actually, she had a kind of sachet akin to Scarlett O'Hara on Genuine Kentucky Whiskey. Kitty must have repeated this process four or five times.

Kitty was having a blast and then that feeling turned into panic when she realized that she had to pee!!! At home, getting out of women's attire was easy, however, here she was at a huge dance, no one to depend on and she had waited at least 30 minutes longer than she should have to realize it was time to pee. She was also kind of looped as she knew that the grin on her face was alcohol induced. Use the guy's bathroom and die a thousand deaths; use the girl's room and risk arrest. She slowly made her way through the huge crowd and suddenly realized that she could use the adult ladies room that was far more private and remote than the teens bathroom area.

Kitty quietly made her way to the Ladies Room. She avoided eye contact at all costs and found an empty stall. The wait at the teen bathroom was long but few women were present at the Ladies Lounge, She entered a stall and noticed about 4 women putting on makeup and chatting about this and that. There was a couch with three women sitting on it and one was decidedly drunk. Everyone was too busy watching out for the drunken broad to worry about Kitty. This was her first quiet, private moment since she had left home mid afternoon and she quietly exhaled as she removed her womanly trappings. She had taped up her privates so she could pee sitting down, but could not remove the tape at this time. Besides, she was so tipsy that she could've fell off the toilet seat. She sat for a moment gathering her thoughts.

When she perceived that all was quiet in the Ladies Lounge, she left the stall and didn't even attempt to wash her hands; just get out of there. The crowd was still large but thinning out a bit. She looked at her watch and it was almost 11:30 PM and the dance while expected to last until 1 AM will likely fade after midnite. Kitty heard them announce the costume contest winners and hah! She thought that she should have one hands down.

As Kitty was deciding whether or not to go back to the punch bowl, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She froze for a moment, turned around and there was the guy, she thought, from the beginning of the evening. Finally, he had gotten up the courage to ask her to dance. Kitty smiled and said yes and they danced a couple of fast dances. He introduced himself as Ken and had gone to Queens College and was a social worker in Manhattan.

They danced a couple of slow dances as the evening wore down and he seemed to get courage as he spent time with Kitty.

Kitty realized that kissing was out of the question since she had at least some beard. However, she learned quickly how much guys loved it when she rubbed her pelvis close to them. She would pull them in very close on slow dances and just sway her hips and moves rhythmically on fast dances. She was just relaxing when Ken suddenly kissed her on the neck. She pulled away and blurted, "Not here, silly". Ken looked sheepish and embarrassed. Kitty started to walk away and Ken apologized asking her for her number. Panic set in as Kitty, tipsy and unprepared for the question, gave him her private line number. Realizing her mistake immediately, she decided to end this now and hope that Ken would not call.

"Ken, I am seeing someone" Kitty said and Ken looked like he had been hit with a hammer. She told him that she wanted to be friends. "Maybe in the future" he said hopefully. Kitty said "maybe" and turned to leave. In fact, she wanted to figure out how to get home, drunk, no guy clothes, her money limited and a lot of strangers milling around.

Kitty walked slowly out the door, as many people seemed to be leaving at just about the same time. It was dark and cold outside and all she had was that wrap. The wind had picked up and not a taxi in sight and even if there was one, a lot of people would jump in it. She did not want to go home in a cab with 5 people to her street. Ken walked up beside her and asked her where she was going. Her first reaction was to tell him that her friends had apparently left and she needed a ride. Ever the chivalrous one, Ken offered her a ride home. Would or should a girl accept a ride from a complete stranger that she met at a dance? Kitty wasn't a girl so she said yes.

As they approached Ken's car, he moved forward to hold the door for her. Kitty, not used to being treated like a lady, almost grabbed the door first. As she settled into the car, Ken turned on the heater. The first blast of air was cold and went right up Kitty's dress. Ken laughed as she was startled by the cold air and said that she would warm up soon. Just because, Kitty reached for her makeup purse and put on lipstick and a pat of powder and looked at her hair. Ken watched and commented, "You were the prettiest girl at the dance". Yeah right thought Kitty, but still loved to hear it. She smiled and Ken added, "I was just too shy to ask you to dance but I was watching you all night"

Out of nowhere and because she looked so pretty in the car, Ken leaned over and kissed Kitty on the neck and Kitty did not resist. In fact, as she turned to say something, she felt his lips on hers. Kitty had to be very careful as she had a beard and was in a strange man's car. He thought that she was a female, 8 to 10 years older than her real age and while she had been to make out parties with girls, she was an inexperienced virgin with no street smarts when it came to sex…and her panties were getting juicy.

They kissed for a few minutes while the car warmed up and Kitty put her head on his shoulder while the car warmed up as she thought that was a cool thing to do. Ken gently stroked her hair and slowly and gently urged her head down into his lap. Kitty, still a bit tipsy but slowly sobering up put her hand under her head before it reached his lap and felt his hard boner. She gently squeezed it and that seem to drive him wild. He urged her on. She could feel him starting to unzip his pants and all of a sudden, his cock was right in her face!!

Okay, what does a 17-year-old boy pretending to be a 30-year-old woman do in a 35 year old man's car when he asks for oral sex in a parked car after a dance where they just met?

Barry was horrified, but Kitty thought it was just the cat's meow. Oral sex was something that Kitty might get away with and Ken would not beat her up.

The car was parked in an area that was generally well lit (for 12 midnite). However, the car was in a darker area and there were no lights on the car. Ken gently turned off the ignition and it was silent except for some dancegoers passing down the street. Kitty quietly and gently put Ken's cock in her mouth and almost gagged. It was probably not more than 6 inches, however, to Kitty, it was a raging throbbing footlong club (or so it seemed). It tasted salty and Kitty was unprepared for the powerful thrusts from Ken who from the waist down was going nuts.

Kitty did not know what to do, however, she improvised. She had a tongue and used it by gently rubbing up and down the side of Ken's rod. She puckered her lips and then loosed them and repeated the process. She experimented with different movements to see what would make him the most excited. It seems that grabbing his thigh and his balls from under his lap and rubbing them while all this was going on, was the clincher.

After only 10 minutes or so, Kitty tasted or felt a spurt of pre-semen. What do? Pull away or stay there? An older, more experienced queen would have figured out her moves. Kitty was not experienced. She decided to ride it out and see what would happen. Well, Ken ejaculated in her mouth. Loads of it. A sober 17-year-old person would have jerked away automatically. Not Kitty. She took it all in and swallowed. Not only because it was exhilarating, but because, she did not want any to get on her face or dress. He just seemed to come and come for a few minutes. Kitty was aware that she had crossed the line; this was not a regular guy thing that she was doing.

When it was over, she pulled away gently using her wrap to wipe up the excess. Deep down she realized that Ken could be even angrier if he finds out the truth. She was worried that Ken would pressure her for more stuff. As it turned out, Ken was very happy and did not seem to want to do anything else except drive Kitty home. In fact, when they got to Kitty's street, Ken after some small talk, looked at his watch and offered to walk her to the door. Kitty said no and he let her out. It dawned on her that he no longer wanted to kiss her goodnite.

Kitty walked up the deserted block to her house and walked in. Her mother was away that weekend and she would have at least Sunday to sort this all out. She went to the bathroom and was surprise at what she saw. There was Kitty with the makeup still on and hair still okay. She slowly removed her makeup and removed the fall. She then took off her dress and stared at the sight of a skinny fairy with arched eyebrows and feminine reddish hair with the dress strap and bustier strap marks still red in evidence. Where will this all lead, as Barry surveyed the wreckage that Kitty had left behind.

  

  

  

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