This episode is a continuation of Catch Her.

  

Catch Her In Disguise

by Laurie S. aka l.satori

  

1

As the applause faded, the drop-dead gorgeous dancer picked up her clothes and slipped away from the runway. Then, the music started up once more. The intro to Shania Twain's 'Man I Feel Like a Woman' blared over the loudspeakers.

The smooth-talking announcer introduced the next performer. "Gentlemen and Ladies, The Hook and Ladder Club is proud to present tonight's headliner! She's beautiful! She's sexy! She's got curves where others don't even have places! Please put your hands together and give an enthusiastic Kingston welcome to Cherry 'The Bomb' Cola!"

A Friday night crowd of dirty old men and young college guys clapped and hollered and stomped on the floorboards enthusiastically!

"Gentlemen, watch out! Look, but don't touch! She's got a fiery temper! She's explosive! She's dynamite! All the way from Vancouver, British Columbia, the reigning Miss Nude Vancouver, heeeerrrrrre's Cherrrry!!!"

A statuesque blond bimbo strutted out from the right wing of the stage. Wearing a flashy gold lame gown, she captivated the horny horde with her amazing 44Ds, her sweet, innocent, angelic face and her electrifying stage presence! As she sashayed down the catwalk past our table, I could easily see why she was the headliner. All the other girls were gorgeous, but Cherry had charisma! She breathed sex appeal! Every guy in the place wanted to jump up on the stage and hump her bones!

When she turned to our table and looked us over with a tempting smile, immediately Studlater reached into his pocket for a five-dollar bill, stood up, leaned over to the stage, and held the money out to her.

Cherry ignored the proffered tip and wiggled her gorgeous buns in her wake as she strutted down the well-worn catwalk. The stirring Shania Twain song suggested Cherry was all woman, and man I felt like having a woman tonight.

"I can't believe she ignored me!" complained Studlater. His 6' 3" frame slumped back into the hard wooden chair.

"Offer her more!" suggested Paul.

"Yeah, five's not enough, you wanker!" yelled Damian.

"That's not the problem! She just thinks you're ugly!" added Mike.

Eric 'Studlater' Stradlater shrugged it all off. "Her loss!" he said boldly.

If you want to know the truth, Studlater was a good-looking guy. He was a real babe magnet. Tall, athletic, muscular, rich, handsome, and a smooth-talking ladies man, Eric Stradlater was not accustomed to rejection.

As I took another sip of my draft beer, I realized that it was my turn to buy the next round. The gigantic pitcher of beer that had been sitting in the middle of our table was nearly empty. I raised my arm to try to get the attention of our server, a well-endowed Irish-Canadian lass named Sinead. She was busy at an old geezer's gathering a few tables away. In the dark cavernous tavern, with the flashing lights, clouds of cigarette smoke, and a cacophony of noise, I'd have to get her attention the next time she came our way.

"Isn't she amazing?" yelled Damian, as Cherry 'The Bomb' Cola danced toward us more. "See that? She smiled at me."

If you want to know the truth, Cherry's radiant beam could melt a titanic iceberg.

"Studlater, here's how you do it!" shouted Paul as he stood up with a ten-dollar bill in his right hand.

This time Cherry stopped. Sexy Cherry knelt down. She couldn't get down to Paul's level. He was a short guy, so she leaned over, showing us her impressive cleavage, up close in wrap-around cineramascope. Cherry's breasts were so big, I thought immediately of Pamela Anderson Lee. Cherry's bounteous boobs were about were about ready to pop out of her top. Cherry 'The Bomb' Cola reached over to accept the ten and purred, "Thank you, handsome."

Paul smiled like I had never seen him smile before. His eyes lit up. His yellowish teeth flashed like a guy in a TV commercial for Pepsodent! As he stood there transfixed by Cherry's presence, I noticed there was a tent-pole in his pants at crotch level. This guy was in love! For Chrissake! Paul was a dog in heat!

Cherry blew him a kiss, then turned her attention to the next table of horny hooligans.

"That's how you do it!" bragged Paul, as he looked over at Studlater.

"Sit down, you wimp!" growled Studlater. "She just wants you for your money."

"She called him handsome," said Damian. "Face it! She thinks you're ugly."

"No way!" replied Studlater.

"Yes way," said Mike. "Watch this!"

Cherry wiggled her way down the runway once more.

Mike Duke stood up. Dressed in blue jeans, a plaid shirt and a dark red Queen's University leather jacket, he looked like the stereotypical Canadian university student. Mike was a well-built jock too. He was a forward on the Queen's Golden Gaels hockey team. "You are beautiful!" Mike yelled as he waved the blue five-dollar bill in Cherry's direction.

This time Cherry smoothly snatched the five away from Mike's hand, a quick "thank you" mouthed over the blare of the music, and then Cherry continued her sexy dance down the catwalk.

"See! Money talks!" yelled Studlater. "She almost ignored you."

"At least she took my money," replied Mike. "Face it! She thinks you're ugly. That's why she turned you down."

"Yeah, right," replied Studlater. "Who do you think you are - Brad Pitt? Oh yeah, that's only half-right. Aren't you his half-brother - Arm Pit?"

"Studlater one, Arm Pit zero," added Paul, trying to hold back a laugh at Mike's expense.

Then ABBA's Dancing Queen started up. Somehow, the music seemed to bring a smile to the face of everyone in the audience. The Hook and Ladder Club's spotlight hit a rotating mirrored Disco Ball, transforming the atmosphere of the gentlemen's club. The speckled light from the mirrored surfaces splayed about the beer hall.

Earlier I had thought Cherry 'The Bomb' Cola reminded me of Pamela Anderson Lee. Now, I dreamed of Cherry as the blond Nordic goddess Agnetha Faltskog.

Soon, caught up in the good-time vibes of ABBA's cult classic, I started to sing along and tap my feet in time with the disco tune. Mama Mia! What would be next? Knowing Me, Knowing You? Fernando?

Sinead, the well-endowed, scantily clad waitress, approached our table, interrupting my romantic reverie with Agnetha and Pamela.

"Enjoying the show, gentlemen?"

"Definitely," I replied. The others nodded in agreement. I reached into my wallet and extracted a twenty-dollar bill. "Sinead, could you bring us another pitcher of your best draft, please?" And keep the change."

"Sure thing, laddie," she said with a smile, as she picked up the empty pitcher and hurried away.

By now, the goddess Cherry had taken off her gold lame gown, her long white gloves, and her nylons. She did suggestive things with her undulating hips that caused me to almost come in my pants. Mr. Wiggly simply would not behave.

At another front row table, where a banker-type, dressed in a three-piece blue suit, held out a red fifty-dollar bill, Cherry took one of her nylon stockings, wrapped it around his neck, drew him close, and let him nuzzle her on the cheek, then her neck. Then he licked Cherry below the neck, a little further down toward her breasts.

I could see Studlater was doing a slow burn, fueled by self-doubt and the gibes of his friends. The turned-on guys in the crowd had given Cherry so many tips. The only gratuity she had turned down was Studlater's.

As Dancing Queen ended and Tina Turner's Private Dancer started up, it changed the mood. Cherry's dancing became even more erotic, if that was possible. There was a pole in the middle of the catwalk that had been used as a prop by several other previous dancers. First, Cherry grabbed hold of the pillar, then swung around it. Next, she shimmied up the pole. With her legs firmly wrapped around the trunk of the metal pipe, she arched her back. Her hips started undulating, and Cherry made love to this erection like it was the appendage of legendary porn star Long Dong Silver. She slid up and down and around the pole like it had been greased with cum. Overcome with lust, I had to get up from my seat and go to the washroom. Had I stayed a moment longer, I would have cum in my pants.

After relieving myself of the 'rented' beer in an unbelievably stinky toilet, I momentarily considered jerking off Mr. Wiggly. Cherry made me so hot. But, common sense prevailed when I heard someone else enter the Men's room. After doing up the buttons of my Levi's, I returned to my seat as quickly as I could, hoping to catch the rest of Cherry's act.

As I approached our table, I could see Studlater standing up. He held a blue five-dollar bill in his right hand. He waved it at Cherry, trying to get her attention. The Private Dancer song was nearing its conclusion. Cherry 'The Bomb' Cola had divested herself of all articles of her clothing - except for her g-string. Cherry stood on the raised platform of the catwalk, and she turned her rear end toward Studlater. She bent her knees and wiggled her sexy buns in Studlater's face, so close that Studlater could almost lick her beautiful ass cheeks. Cherry slid a long red fingernail under her g-string, and lifted the thong. Studlater could see her anal orifice; he could almost taste it.

The music stopped.

Sexy Cherry smiled enticingly at Studlater over her bare right shoulder - a come hither signal? What a tease! She tensed her ass cheeks.

"B-b-b-b-h-h-h-p-p-p-p-p!"

Cherry 'The Bomb' Cola farted directly into Studlater's face…That's right, she passed wind! It was a magnificent, long, loud, full-bodied, fabulous fart that seemed to last forever!

The Hook and Ladder Club erupted in laughter! I practically fell onto the floor, guffawing! Hee-hawing! Bursting! Splitting a gut! Everybody was yelling and screaming! The other guys at the table slapped Studlater on the back as he gasped for air. Pandemonium! Bedlam! I had never seen anything like it!

The gang at my table started chanting, "Cher-ry! Cher-ry! Cher-ry! Cher-ry!"

Within seconds, the rest of the people in the crowd took up the chant! "Cher-ry! Cher-ry! Cher-ry! Cher-ry! Cher-ry…" They pounded on the tables, bouncing the beer steins up and down. Jerry Springer would have been proud!

Cherry waved to the crowd as she strutted back down the runway. Thunderous applause partly drowned out the next announcement over the loudspeakers!

"Gentlemen, I warned you not to get her angry!" admonished the voice of the Hook and Ladder Club. "That was Cherry 'The Bomb' Cola!"

More chanting! "Cher-ry! Cher-ry! Cher-ry! Cher-ry…"

As the chorus started to fade, the fetching Sinead, came back to our table with a huge pitcher of draft beer - and a present from our favorite exotic dancer.

"Gentlemen, here's your beer," said Sinead, as she set a tray down on our table.

There was a can of Lysol on the tray. Sinead held up the can and sprayed it briefly, for comic effect. The audience broke out in laughter again.

"And for you," said Sinead, as she looked directly at poor, embarrassed Studlater, "a special souvenir gift to help you remember your night here."

"Thanks," mumbled a stunned Studlater.

It was a bottle of Cherry Cola, wrapped in a black satin g-string.

 

2

Later that evening, back in quiet, laid-back Leonard Hall, a male-only student residence of Queen's University, all the guys had gathered in Paul Campbell's closet-sized room.

I was our usual Friday night poker game.

The cigarette smoke was pretty thick, even though it was against the rules of the residence. I was a social smoker - and a social drinker. Also, true to our Bob and Doug McKenzie Canadian stereotype, we were drinking more beer. That was also against the rules.

Long ago, if you want to know the truth, I figured out that the most important thing for winning at these poker games was being able to stay sober. Anyway, tonight, I had to admit to feeling a tad inebriated. I had had at least five mugs of draft beer at the Hook and Ladder Club, better known as the Lad and Hooker Club, plus three bottles of Molson Canadian, since arriving at Paul's Poker Palace.

Yeah, I know I haven't had the best of luck as a poker player. I got my nickname of Hold'em because I tended to stick with pat hands at the absolute worst time. With major money on the line, I always seemed to end up with the second best hand. But tonight was going to be different.

Around three o'clock, when we usually called it a night, I was up about $60. It was the last hand - a game of seven card stud. The dealer, Damian, dealt two cards down and one card up. My two down cards were aces. My up card was also an ace! For Chrissake! This was it! My chance for a big score!

Since my up-card ace was high, I opened the betting with a loonie, Canadian-speak for $1 because of a bird, the loon, on the tail side of the coin. The others sitting around the game table matched the bet. Inside, I was jumping up and down with joy! Outwardly, my poker face revealed no emotion. Damian dealt out the cards. The next up card was a ten. It didn't help my aces. Mike had a pair of fives up. Nobody else had anything that matched.

Mike Duke threw a twoonie into the pot. Everybody else matched the bet.

The next card up for me was a ten! I had a full house! Three aces and two tens. I was turning mental cartwheels!

Mike was dealt a seven up. My tens up beat Mike's pair of fives. So I bet a twoonie. Mike called. At this point, Studlater, Damian and Paul dropped out.

Mike's smile indicated confidence in his hand.

The last card up for me was a deuce. Mike received an ace.

That was it! I couldn't improve my hand. I had a full house - aces over tens.

Mike had a pair of fives up. Overall, on the night, Mike Duke had won the most. He must have been up $200 or so. And he was looking to deliver the coup de grace. Mike was one of those cocky jocks who needed to be taken down a notch. 'Cool Hand Duke' was lucky enough to have played Junior Hockey. Beautiful puck bunnies constantly surrounded him when he went to the pub nights on campus. The lucky sonofagun!

On the table, I still had the best hand. So, I bet $5 this time.

Mike hesitated. "I can't let you win this with a pair of tens. I'll see your $5 and raise you $5."

"It's your funeral," I replied. "I'll raise you another $5."

"You're bluffing, Hold'em. I'm in for the other five," said Mike as he pushed a $5 bill into the substantial pot.

I hated the nickname Hold'em! Staying in the final game with pat hands had cost me big time in the past. But, tonight was my night. I could feel it! Besides, I really could use the money. My part-time job looked like it might disappear in the near future, so I needed these winnings for a rainy day.

I was a little worried about Mike's hand. In order for him to stay in the game, he had to be able to beat the pair of tens I had showing. That meant he had at least two pair or three fives. Four of a kind was a possibility. Did he have four fives? Was that what he meant by 'I'm in for the other five'?

Damian 'The Omen' Stoddard dealt the last card down.

I pushed a crisp new purple $10 bill into the pot.

"Are you in?" I asked.

"Yes. I'll see your $10 and raise it $10 more," challenged 'Cool Hand Duke.'

Now, I was worried. Did Mike have four of a kind?

I tossed another $10 into the pot.

"What have you got?" I demanded.

Mike said "Full house - fives over sevens."

I smiled. "Goddammit! Now, don't you guys ever call me Hold'em again. Full house! My three aces and a pair of tens beats your tight!"

Mike pounded the table in frustration!

"Hey! Watch the furniture!" warned Paul.

"Sorry," mumbled Mike.

As I gathered up my winnings with both hands, I said, "Finally! At long last - vindication! No more Hold'em. The name is William Copperfield. And you guys aren't going to get me to wear girls' clothes again!"

As I started to separate the bills from the coins, I realized I had put my foot in my mouth. Too late!

"Actually Hold'em, we never saw you in girls' clothes on Halloween night," said Damian 'The Omen' Stoddard.

"Yeah, you said you dressed as Miss Piggy. You told us Allison got you a Miss Piggy costume, but we never spoke to a Miss Piggy that night," complained Paul.

"Well then, Paul, how did I know that you were in a Laptop Computer outfit or that Studlater was dressed as a vampire if I wasn't there. You guys never said I had to talk to you at the party. I mean, it's not as if you ever would have recognized me in that Miss Piggy outfit. And I sure wasn't about to tell you. Look! Here, in my wallet, is a picture of me as Miss Piggy." I showed them the familiar image of Miss Piggy, with the familiar furniture of the Leonard Cafeteria in the background.

That seemed to shut them up - momentarily.

Paul Campbell stared at the photo and stroked his barcode mustache pensively. "You're not off the hook yet. For all we know, this could be Pee Wee Herman in Muppet Land," said Paul, "putting his hand up the skirt of Miss Piggy!"

Of course, I wasn't about to tell them I had brought this Polaroid photo from some shlump named Bob Cameron, who had dressed up as Miss Piggy at the Halloween Party. I wasn't about to tell anyone, especially Eric 'Studlater' Stradlater, that my impersonation of a Las Vegas showgirl was so good that none of them had recognized me. In fact, Eric had tried to seduce me. I was one hot Las Vegas showgirl that night! I could have given the stripper Cherry 'The Bomb' Cola competition on Halloween!

What can I say? I can't help it if I'm beautiful!

 

3

When the music woke me up, I opened my eyes gradually. The digital clock radio said eleven o'clock. For a moment, I considered not getting out of bed. The alcohol had taken its toll on me. I had a pounding headache, and the rest of my body throbbed too. I imagined that this was how an elderly person felt every morning. But, I knew I had had close to eight hours of sleep - a reasonable amount. So, I rolled out of bed and headed to the bathroom for my usual shit, shave, and shower routine.

As with all of the rooms at Brockington House, Gordon House and Leonard Hall, the flat gray-stone residence quadrangle built in the late 1950s and 1960s, my humble abode was tiny and sparsely furnished. However, I was one of the fortunate ones who didn't have a roommate. For that privilege, of course, I had to pay extra. Nevertheless, it did allow me to actually get a lot of schoolwork accomplished in my own room.

But, I had to get to work. My shift at Ultimate Internet began at 12 noon. One good thing was my workplace wasn't far away. Actually, if I looked out my bedroom window to the east, across the dormant lawns of the Queen's University campus, I could see, in the distance, a 5-story office building located right beside the smaller Ultimate Internet office. Downtown Kingston didn't have many skyscrapers.

The town of Kingston, in the summer, was known as the Gateway to the picturesque Thousand islands. But, in the winter, this university town had a cold, gray atmosphere, imbued perhaps by the old limestone walls of nearby Fort Henry, the high austere confines of the Kingston Penitentiary and the seemingly omnipresent overcast sky.

The Ultimate Internet job was great! I made good money as a technical support person, helping clients rectify their problems with their Internet service provider. I needed the dough to help pay my tuition and living expenses. It gave me a great deal of satisfaction, although Ultimate Internet should have hired more technicians. Sometimes, people calling on the phone had forty-five minute wait times. But, I was a little worried about my $30 an hour job. Rumors had been swirling about that UI was on shaky financial footing. Monthly payment fees were drying up because of high speed access services and some free Internet service providers.

When I showed up at the Ultimate Internet office on King Street in downtown Kingston, there was a sign on the glass front door, "Closed until further notice."

'Oh no!' I thought. 'What the hell is going on? They can't just shut down the whole operation, can they? Without any notification?'

For a moment, I sat down on the wide concrete steps beneath the front door. I looked back to the modern steel and glass façade of the building in disbelief. The sign still said, "Closed until further notice."

It wasn't long before one of my co-workers, Pete Johnstone, showed up.

"Hey there, William, what's up?"

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing! Look at the sign, Pete. I think we just got laid off."

"It can't be," said Pete, incredulity written on his bearded face. "I need this job."

Pete's tall, thin, gangly frame visibly slumped as he dug his hands into the pockets of his blue and black polyester ski jacket.

Within a few minutes, a few more co-workers arrived for their 12 o'clock shift. I suppose that misery loves company, but it didn't make me feel any better that other people were out of a job too.

"I'm outta here," I grumbled. "There's no point in waiting around."

"I hope they send us our last pay check," called out Pete.

"I wouldn't count on it," I yelled back, as I hurried down King Street, toward the Queen's University campus. "The next check we'll get won't be from Ultimate Internet. It will be UI of a different kind - Unemployment Insurance," I yelled back to Pete as my parting shot.

Anyway, I had never been on the public dole before. I wasn't sure I had worked enough hours each week to qualify for the social assistance pittance given to out-of-work lazy bums.

Although it was a pleasant warm day for the beginning of March, with the sun just peeking through the clouds, the sunshine failed to lift my spirits. Normally, in March, a cold wind would blow off Lake Ontario, turning the rows of old two or three-story business buildings in downtown Kingston into an Arctic tundra wasteland. But today, if you want to know the truth, Kingston's weather was better than bearable.

'Goddammit!' I thought to myself. 'I needed the money. Besides, I was counting on that part-time job also being my summer job too. Now, what was I going to do?'

As I crossed Johnson Street, I looked up to see the colorful Hook and Ladder Club neon sign. The doors of the large Tudor style building were just opening. A handful of men walked in through the entrance.

For some reason I stopped. Should I go in? Should I go get a beer?

I wavered for a moment. I thought back to the incredible Cherry 'The Bomb' Cola and poor Studlater. What a night!

Then, I paused to look at some of the publicity photos of the exotic dancers on display near the doorway. Some of those girls were absolutely gorgeous! Bodies to die for! The best breast implants money could buy! There were names like Angel America, Coco Mojo, Britanny Spires, Jesse 'The Body' Adventure, Wicked Wanda, and other suggestive stage names. But, there also was a plain sign, in black and white block lettering: "Help wanted. Apply within."

Hmmm. That intrigued me. In life it seems that when one door closes, another opens up. Should I go in? What the heck! I needed a job. Maybe they needed a bartender or busboy. So, in I went.

As I stepped inside the solid double-doors, my eyes had to adjust from the bright sunshine to the dimly lit interior of the tavern.

Immediately, the scent of beer hit me. That, and the odor of stale cigarette smoke, struck a familiar chord.

"Hi there! Can I get you a drink, laddie?"

I looked over toward the sound of the cheerful Irish lilt. "Oh hi there, Sinead," I replied. Sinead was the well-endowed waitress who served us the beer the night before. "Actually, I'm not here for the entertainment or the beer. The sign in the window caught my attention. Are you looking to hire anybody?"

"Oh yes. We're looking for an attractive waitress. The hourly wage isn't great, but the tips are excellent! One of our girls is quitting. She's a real beauty! You wouldn't believe the kind of tips she pulls in…And we're always looking for new dancers. Know anybody?"

"You wouldn't need a bus boy or a bartender, would you?" I asked in my Jimmy Stewart ah shucks kind of way, looking down as I shuffled my feet on the tavern's worn plank floorboards.

"I don't think so, honey. But, if you like, you can talk to the manager."

"I need to find a new job. My high tech job just went down the drain. How much do you people make anyway?"

"Well, Cherry 'The Bomb' Cola, as a headliner, is paid $2,500 per week. Plus, I would guess she earns that much in tips."

"Wow! But, how about the waitresses?"

"Suzy, the girl who's leaving, gets a wage of $700 per week. But, she probably pulls in about $500 in tips."

"Man, I wish I could get that much."

"Should I get the manager? Perhaps he needs a waiter?"

"Maybe later," I replied. "Thanks Sinead."

 

4

"Relax Hold'em," said Allison soothingly. It's not the end of the world. All students end up in debt. Besides, you'll get another job. You'll see."

Allison gave me a hug…She felt so wonderful. Yes, I felt blessed. Allison was such a great girl! She had these big brown almost black eyes, a glowing, flawless complexion, luxuriant brunette hair and a body to die for. She was soft and cuddly, like a big teddy bear.

We sank back in the love seat. Allison's cozy room was a safe port in a storm.

"I suppose you're right. But, I really liked my job…and I was counting on it for next summer too. I just don't know what else I can get around here. I mean Kingston isn't exactly a big town overflowing with job opportunities."

"Well, I intend to become an actress, Hold'em. So, I imagine I'm going to be working a lot as a waitress."

"Hmmm…a waitress, eh." When I'm depressed, I slip back into Canadian anachronisms.

"Sure, as long as it's at a restaurant where you can earn some tips. Not McDonald's or Burger King."

"Actually Allison, I know a place that needs a waitress."

"Really? Where?"

"Now, don't laugh. The Hook and Ladder Club."

"You mean that strip club?"

"Yeah. Are you interested?"

"You know I have a good job already. Why would I give up my acting job with the Kingston Repertory Theater to take that kind of job?" asked Allison.

"How does $700 a week plus $500 in tips sound?"

"You're joking, right?"

"No, that's what a waitress at the Lad and Hooker earns."

Allison paused for a moment. "Well, I have my future career to think of too," replied Allison. "I need the acting experience. But, that's better than I thought a girl could make as a waitress at a club like that."

Then Allison's beautiful visage took on a completely different expression. "What were you doing at the Hook and Ladder Club, or the Lad and Hooker as you call it?"

"Oh, well, uh…" I'd better be careful here. "I was passing by it on my way home from my workplace on King Street. You know, after I found out that Ultimate Internet had closed down. There was a sign in the window of the Hook and Ladder. So, I went in to inquire."

"Uh huh. So, did you see any dancing girls?"

"I don't recall. But, I did chat with a waitress."

"You walked into a strip club - and you can't recall if you saw any dancing girls?"

"The place had just opened at noon. So, I don't think anybody was dancing in there. There were only a handful of people there."

"Have you ever been to the Hook and Ladder before?"

For Chrissake! I was in a quandary. To tell Allison that I frequented strip clubs might cause her to regard me as a degenerate or pervert. I might lose her as my girlfriend. On the other hand, she might have talked to my friends about what happened the night before. And she might be testing me to see if I was worthy of trust.

I got up from the well-padded loveseat and approached the window. From the fifth floor, the 'penthouse' level of Gordon House, I could look over the compact campus of Queen's University. Not far away was the blue water of Lake Ontario, shimmering in the glow of the afternoon sun. The courtyard below showed signs of renewal as more bare patches of earth interrupted the snow covering of winter. Soon the trees would be showing signs of rebirth too. The revival of the foliage and the return of the migratory birds were imminent.

"What a beautiful day," I remarked.

"Hold'em, don't try to change the subject," chided Allison.

If you want to know the truth, honesty is the best policy, I believe, except when you positively know you can get away with a lie.

"Going to a strip club with the guys is like a rite of passage. You know, similar to seeing your first restricted movie, having your first drink, getting a driver's license, and losing your virginity." And that was the honest truth. Okay…I stretched the truth a little bit.

"Mike told me what happened to Studlater last night. That was hilarious!" Allison enthused. "Did he really inhale that fart?"

I breathed a sigh of relief. "It left him breathless. He was gasping for air. I couldn't believe it when it actually happened."

When Allison stopped giggling, she said, "I hear you also won the poker game, Hold'em."

"Yes. It was a pretty good night all around."

"Mike also wanted to know if you really did dress up as Miss Piggy for Halloween."

"So, what did you tell him, Allison?" I wasn't out of trouble yet.

"I told Mike that I had put you into costume and that I had seen you at the party in drag. I told the truth. Then I asked Mike if he had seen that picture you carry in your wallet."

"Good. I wouldn't want those guys, especially Studlater, to find out what I really looked like that evening."

"We'll have to dress you up like that again, Hold'em."

"Oh no. Never again," I protested.

"C'mon Hold'em, you looked terrific! Don't lie. I know you enjoyed it."

Allison got up from the love seat and walked over to her desk. She reached into the bottom drawer and pulled out an envelope. Then, as she returned to the wicker love seat with the soft, emerald cushions, she extracted a few photographs.

"Remember this?" she asked with a devilish smile.

A breathtakingly beautiful Las Vegas showgirl, with long auburn curls, mesmerizing green eyes, high cheekbones, with a dazzling smile, voluptuous bountiful breasts, thin waist, and tantalizing long legs, jumped out of the 7 by 11 color photograph.

It was a photo of 'Linda.' It was a glamorous photo of me in disguise as a girl on Halloween night!

"You looked absolutely fabulous! Brilliant! Nobody would ever guess!"

I paused for a moment, mesmerized by the sight of the beautiful 'girl' in the photograph. "Do you think I could get the job at the Hook and Ladder as a waitress?"

Allison laughed heartily. "Oh Hold'em, that would be hilarious! A cocktail waitress at a strip club? Oh, you'd look good enough. I know you could…You know, you could pull it off in all seriousness…Do you want me to help you get in drag again?"

I looked at the photo of 'Linda' once more. "Yes. I think I'd enjoy that."

 

5

In my life, I have always wished that I wasn't so skinny and that I didn't have such long, girlish legs. Being a wimp, being rather feminine in body build, being a 'cute' boy, this was a curse I had endured since early childhood.

But, when I looked into the full-length mirror, I looked beautiful! Sexy! Gorgeous! Lovely! Radiant!

Allison had helped with the makeup. The close shave of my light beard and the application of the foundation easily hid any trace of beard. My male eyebrows were hidden by a combination of spirit gum, theatrical putty and powder. Contour shading and blush enhanced my naturally high cheekbones. The mascara, eyeliner, eye shadow and green contact lenses redefined my normally unremarkable eyes. Liner, lipstick and gloss made my mouth enticingly kissable. My normally flat chest, with the help of moleskin tape and a water-pad enhanced push-up bra, gave me bouncing boobs that would have been quite suitable for the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition. The crowning glory was a long, curly auburn wig with glorious tresses that spilled over my shoulders. It was kinda like the hairdo favored by actress Debra Messing of Will & Grace fame.

A sexy, low cut, 'little black dress,' which showed a lot of leg, and revealed my enhanced contours to best advantage, looked back at me in the mirror. I turned to the side, then to the back. My sheer nylons on shapely lithe legs and spike heels looked fabulous! A 37-26-37 figure on a 6-foot tall 153-pound frame gave me near model proportions.

I think I could have fallen in love with this image of feminine pulchritude. Maybe all transvestites fall in love with their own reflection.

When I stood in front of Allison, I think she had fallen in love with her creation. Just call me Pygmalion or My Fair Lady.

"You look exquisite!" gushed Allison. "Why, any guy would be lucky to have a girlfriend as beautiful as you."

"Thank you. You are a true magician, even though I'm the one named Copperfield."

"Come on, Linda. You have an appointment with the manager in twenty minutes. I think you'll find it will take a little longer to walk over to the Hook and Ladder Club in those heels."

"Oh no. I had forgotten all about that agony. After Halloween, my toes ached for days."

 

6

Harry Thomas, the tough looking manager of the Hook and Ladder, inspected me carefully. His pockmarked face, scarred by acne during an angst-ridden adolescence, 'broke' into a barely perceptible smile.

I felt like I was a slab of meat and he was grading me. Was I prime grade A steak or just fat and gristle? Or was I a guy in a dress?

He asked me to turn around.

"Yes. You'll do fine. You have the necessary physical attributes," said lecherous Harry Thomas, in a gravelly voice tinged with salivating admiration.

"Thank you," I replied softly.

"Do you have any experience as a waitress?"

"Yes," I said. "Well, I worked at a McDonald's, so I guess it wasn't exactly the same type of job. I never served drinks before, but I am good at communicating with people," I said, as I pushed out my chest a little for extra emphasis. I tried to smile sweetly and hoped he would like the Chanel perfume.

He looked at my cantilevered cleavage - a stacked rack.

"Well yes. People skills are very important in this business," said Harry Thomas.

"Yes sir. I'll do my best to please the customers."

"I'm sure you will," he agreed as he looked up to my face.

In heels, I stood 6' 3" and I towered over the wee manager, who stood about 5' 8" and 180 pounds.

I hugged him, squeezing his face up against my padded push-up bra.

Being a sexy girl was such a turn-on.

"Thank you, Mr. Thomas. Thank you. You won't regret this."

"Okay. Could you start today?"

I was a little surprised by this request. But, I could work all day today, since it was a Sunday. Not wanting to displease him, I said, "Certainly, I can start anytime you want."

"Good. I want you to get your feet wet. Come with me. I'll introduce you to the head waitress, Sinead O'Hara. She'll take good care of you. I'm sure you'll like Sinead. She gets along well with everyone."

Half an hour later, I wore a scandalous, low cut serving uniform. Imagine a scanty, black, French maid outfit with white, puffy frills. The Hook and Ladder Club knew how to feed the fantasies of its perverted clientele.

Within an hour, I understood the whole serving routine.

Sinead showed me how to take the orders from the customers. She introduced me to the bartenders, other waitresses and busboys - and the bouncers. Then, she assigned me to a specific area of the tavern. This section was to be my responsibility. The orders would be written down on the order pad. The bartender would fill the order. I would serve the drinks and collect the payments. I would give the customer the change and accept tips. Then, I would take the cash over to the cashier. The tips were placed in a separate 'goldfish' bowl to be shared among all the serving staff.

My first customers were some regular, middle-aged patrons. They knew immediately that I was new on staff. I was a little nervous. But, after they had scrutinized the merchandise, I think I met their approval. At least, I think that's what the pinch in the rear end meant. When I turned around to see who had squeezed my ass cheek, two guys pointed to each other and laughed. Oh well, I guess it was something I would have to get used to. Or, I would have to be careful not to turn my back on these horny assholes again!

Some of the more polite guys complimented me. One said I was 'a sight for sore eyes.' Another dubbed me 'beautiful.' One more called me 'Sweet Cheeks' the whole evening. And the tips just kept rolling in.

These compliments really stroked my ego, although I'm sure those horny guys wanted me to stroke more than their egos. As a young fella, I had never been praised for rugged handsome good looks. A few girls thought I was 'cute.' If you want to know the honest truth, I was a skinny beanpole of a kid. Some of the juvenile delinquents at elementary school made fun of me. They'd call me 'daddy long legs' because of my unusually long limbs and small torso. Or, because I was so skinny, they called me 'xylophone bones' because they could count every rib of my underdeveloped upper body. A few had even suggested I was girlish. As a result, I got into a few fights trying to retain my self-respect. In fact, after a few schoolyard altercations, I joined a karate club to learn the art of self-defense. Fortunately, I learned the lessons well, achieving a red belt by the age of 12. That did a lot for my self-confidence.

When my first shift ended at eleven o'clock, I was bushed. I thanked the boss Mr. Thomas again, thanked Sinead and all the others, said my good-byes, picked up my coat and then headed out the door, back to the student dormitory.

The tips that I had shared with the others was a welcome, instantaneous payoff. My share for that evening was $120. Now, that was a good start!

The cold evening air was a healthy change from the smoke-filled atmosphere of the Hook and Ladder Club. Breathing in the fresh oxygen was a relief, offset somewhat by the low temperature. A chill went up my pantyhose covered legs, invading the area beneath my skirt. That was a little disconcerting! Next time, I'd bring some jeans to change into so that I wouldn't have to freeze my buns off.

My stroll through downtown was eerie. Hardly anybody was walking about at 2:20 a.m. Most of the buildings were dark since all the businesses were closed. There was amber-pink illumination from the lights perched 30 feet above the pavement on elegant arms, like Mickey Mouse ears, extending from the metal lampposts. In the calm of night, all sounds seemed magnified. A cat meowed in a nearby alleyway. A piece of cardboard was whipped about by the wind. I could hear a squeal of a car's tires several blocks away. But mostly, I could hear the click-click-click-click sound of my high heels contacting the concrete sidewalks and then their faint echo in the deserted street corridors.

Also, the high-heeled shoes were something else I had to adjust to in my new role as a sex-goddess. The high-heels changed my 'normal' gait. I had sort of developed a strut to my walk. As I placed one foot directly in front of the other with my hips thrust slightly forward and my back straight, this gave my rear end a natural sensual wiggle as I moved. I felt like a model gliding down a catwalk at a Paris fashion show.

Then, as I approached the City Park, I could see a young couple headed in my direction. I could see their breath condense into cigarette-like puffs as they exhaled into the cold night air. The passers-by gave me friendly admiring looks. I tried to avert my eyes - never looking directly at the peepers of the guy when I was approaching the pair. My whole psychology of being had changed. During the stroll home, I felt vulnerable. I felt as if any guy I passed on the street was a person to be avoided, lest he misinterpret a glance from me as a sign of interest. However, there were very few encounters so late at night.

When I got to the familiar confines of Gordon House, I made my way over to Allison's room. Since her residence was co-ed, my dual identity wasn't going to be a problem.

I had Allie's spare key. Nevertheless, I knocked first. There was no answer. So, I let myself in.

Within minutes, I had stripped off my little black dress, the nylons, and the wig. Then, I worked the cold cream into my facial makeup. The moleskin tape used to create the cleavage had to be doused with spirit gum remover. That was going to be a chore if I had to do this frequently. After a few minutes, I was able to wipe off the cold cream from my face. The foundation makeup and blush disappeared. Some white pads were placed over the eyes for a half-minute or so. The eye makeup came off with no trouble. But, I was a little concerned about removing the moleskin tape used to hold up my breasts. Amazingly, the spirit gum remover worked fairly well. The liquid soaked through the fabric of the moleskin tape, and, much to my relief, the stretchy fabric was not too painful to peel off.

Just as I was taking off my gaff, I heard a key being inserted into the door lock. I scurried into the bathroom, not knowing if it was Allison by herself or with her friends too.

I peered out from behind the bathroom door.

"Hi Allison," I called out.

Allie jumped up in fright.

"Oh darn! You scared me!"

"Sorry. I was just changing. So, where have you been?"

"Oh, I went out to see a movie with Tracy. And then we went for a snack at Chez Louis," said Allison, as she hung up her red leather Queen's jacket on the coat rack. "After that, we just hung out in Tracy's dorm room, listening to music and chatting."

"Which film did you see?"

"The Hurricane. We went to the Bijou where they re-run interesting movies at reasonable prices."

"Any good?"

"Yes. Denzel Washington was amazing! He should have won an Oscar for that!"

"Agreed. Kevin Spacey was overrated that year."

"Yes, but the Academy did make amends later on."

"Well, let me put some clothes on and I'll join you in a moment."

Quickly I slipped on my underpants, a shirt and then my pants. A minute later, I opened the bathroom door.

Allison sat in front of the dresser, brushing her hair.

"So Hold'em, how did it go?"

"Fine, just fine. I learned how to serve the drinks. I took care of some enthusiastic customers, got my ass pinched five times, and my breasts squeezed twice, dropped one beer stein and collected $120 in tips. How's that for the first day on the job?"

"Great! So, did anyone ever suspect that you were not what you appeared to be?"

"You know, Allie, you did such a great job with the makeup and my body shaping, I didn't even think about it. I was so busy taking all the orders and all the men were so horny, I think any passable female impersonator could have carried it off."

"Yes, men respond so much to visual stimuli. Guys tend to think with their gonads rather than their brains."

"Allie, you wouldn't believe what I heard! Sinead told me an interesting story. I hardly got a chance to fully appreciate the exotic dancers who work there. Obviously, I need to pay attention to the men in the audience because they're the ones who give us the tips. Anyway, did you ever hear of a song by The Kinks called 'Lola'?"

"Yes, Lola. The name rhymes with Coca Cola…Kind of an offbeat, obscure song."

"You've got it. In the song, the lyrics go something like:

Girls will be boys, and boys will be girls,
It's a mixed up, muddled up, shook up world,
Except for Lola, la la la la Lola."

"No, Hold'em. Wasn't Lola, in the song, really a guy?"

"Yes."

It didn't take long for Allison to put the clues together.

"Are you saying Cherry 'The Bomb' Cola is really a guy?"

"Was a guy. She's a transsexual. A very beautiful transsexual!"

"Don't ever tell Studlater," murmured Allison.

"The poor guy," I said.

"At Halloween, he tried to hook up with you when you were in drag, and now this."

"Well, since that led to his split up with you, I'm not complaining."

"To be honest, Hold'em, when I put you into the makeup, wig, and the sexy dress today, I must admit you looked gorgeous."

"Thanks Allie," I said as I embraced her. "But, there's only one beautiful girl here now. And that's you."

We kissed passionately. Allison had a heavenly body. I wrapped my arms around her sensual back, waist, and buns and then I slipped my hands up and undid her bra. Then I massaged her bountiful bosom. Her luscious lips and tantalizing tongue ignited my passion. It was a prelude to a long night of lovemaking. I was so horny from looking at all those sexy strippers all day. My 'gun' was loaded, cocked and ready to fire.

If you want to know the truth, I felt really lucky. Allison was the greatest girlfriend a guy could ever have!

 

7

The work schedule was pretty intense. I was given a six-hour late shift at the club from Thursday to Sunday. Monday and Wednesday were my nights off. Tuesday I worked only a four-hour shift. Although the workers frequently traded shifts to suit their needs. The good news was that the job did not conflict with my university classes. The bad news was that I really needed to get more sleep. Plus, the makeup routine added at least an hour of time to the job.

Luckily, in the latter half of March, I didn't have any major assignments due. While I still managed to attend most of my classes, I started to ask my friends to take good notes if I happened to miss a class. I must admit, I did sleep in a few mornings and missed some 9 o'clock classes. But, it was a hard schedule to keep up with. On the other hand, the money from the job was just great! I had made about $2,400 in two weeks. Even if I had to dress as a girl, it was worth it. Besides, I kinda liked all the compliments I was getting from the old geezers and college kids at the Hook and Ladder. I was getting to be quite adept at my skills in passing as a gorgeous female.

I knew that I owed a lot to Allison. She had provided me with a wardrobe. Allison supplied the wig and the makeup. The shoes and the undergarments - all of that stuff. I think some of the items were her own, some from the Queen's University Drama Department, and other items might have come from the Kingston Repertory Theater.

On the down side, I had to stop playing in the regular Friday night poker game. I did miss the camaraderie of the guys. Even at lunch, if I wasn't hanging around with Allie, I was busy studying in the library. So, I hadn't seen much of the guys in the last few weeks. The only fun I got was on the job.

Working as a sexy girl at the Hook and Ladder Club was kind of surreal. After university classes, supper and homework, I'd dash over to Allison's room. In about an hour, I'd transform myself from a blond-haired, blue-eyed male skinny geek to a sexy, beautiful, auburn-haired, green-eyed female with a voluptuous figure. Then, I'd hurry over to the club. I'd serve drinks to sex-starved voyeurs for six hours, buttering them up with smiles, compliments, and a playful touch here and there, anything to encourage larger and larger tips. Then, at quitting time, I'd trek back to Gordon House, and return to Allison's room. There I would take off the girl's clothing, makeup, padding, and tape. Then, I'd go back to my own room in Brockington House and crawl into bed. Up at eight, then to classes by nine. Lunch at 12 o'clock. More classes until four. After a quick supper in the cafeteria, then I'd repeat the homework and work routine all over again. Monday was a night off to do things like library research and more homework. Here I'd meet with Studlater sometimes because we had a course in common - a computer programming course. We'd work on problem sets together before it was due at our Tuesday morning class. The only light days were Saturday and Sunday because I didn't have classes. But, there was laundry to do and more homework too. Plus, my work hours on Saturday were being expanded. I was burning the candle at both ends.

Prior to dressing up at Halloween, I had never had any second thoughts about my sexual orientation. I was attracted to pretty girls. Even though some guys at my old high school had put me down, calling me a fag sometimes because I wasn't the most macho guy, I never really took that too seriously. Yes, I did confess to liking Broadway musicals, but I also liked sports too. Besides, I had a girlfriend in high school. That had given me a lot of self-confidence. Even after a rough break up in grade 12, I still knew that I liked girls.

But, now that I was dressing up as a girl almost every day, I was being exposed to aggressive girl-hungry men all the time. From the very first day on the job, I felt flattered. I truly enjoyed the attention and the compliments and the generous tips! On the other hand, most men were pigs, especially given that I worked in a strip club - and the men thought that all the girls who worked there were immoral. But, I could handle the Neanderthal characters since I knew where they were coming from. However, on one occasion, a handsome gentleman was really nice to me. He gave me lots of compliments and generous tips. And he was quick witted and cute. All night he lavished attention on me. His name was Richard. Physically, he reminded me of that actor Dean Cain. You know - the one who played Superman in the TV series Lois and Clark. Plus, he was well-dressed. Not at all like the usual college kids and bar bums the Hook and Ladder attracted. Then, I was struck by a very unusual feeling - of physical attraction to him. He had asked me for my phone number. Although I was tempted, I didn't give him my number. There was still a part of my male self that insisted I was a straight heterosexual. If I had been dressed as my normal self, I am sure William Copperfield would not have had these unusual feelings. This mind-bending incident had caused me to have some serious doubts about my sexual orientation while dressed as a female. Was I turning bisexual?

Something had to give. But, then something I hadn't anticipated was about to occur.

 

8

After my last class of the day at Dunning Hall, a less than exciting lecture in Introductory Economics from Professor 'Sominex' Samuelson, I headed over to the Leonard Cafeteria to meet with Allison. Being a Monday, I had the rest of the evening free from my job at the Hook and Ladder Club. All day, I had been looking forward to spending some 'quality' time with my girlfriend 'cause the quantity sure had been severely limited lately.

When I reached the dining hall nestled in the lowest level of Leonard Hall, I looked around the large, two thirds empty eatery. Allie wasn't in her usual spot by the corner window, so I headed over to the serving area to pick up a cup of tea. I didn't want any food yet. It was a little earlier than my scheduled Monday suppertime with Allison and I didn't want to spoil my appetite. Eating dinner with my girlfriend was one of the few pleasures that my busy schedule allowed.

While I waited for Allie, I picked up a copy of a newspaper, the Ottawa Sun, that somebody had left behind on one of the Formica topped tables. Over the cafeteria loudspeakers, there was some pop music playing gently. "Her name was Lola, she was a showgirl…At the Copa, Copacabana, the hottest spot north of Havana." As I danced over to my usual corner table, carrying my cup of tea, to the beat of Barry Manilow's Copacabana, I hoped my impromptu jig would lift me out of my Sominex class lethargy. I looked around the dining hall one more time for Allison's familiar figure, but was disappointed once more, although there were a couple of cute babes two tables over. With relief, I slipped off the straps of my heavy-duty backpack and lowered the bag onto the floor. As soon as I was comfortably ensconced in my usual blue plastic chair, although every chair in the place was made of blue plastic, I immediately opened up the paper to page 3 for a look at Today's Sunshine Girl. A blond bikini-clad bubble-headed bimbo beamed back at me. Her name was Laura. She was a Virgo, with sunlight in her hair and her boobs stuck out to there. "At the Copa, Copacabana…"

I looked around the cafeteria once more. There was no sign of Allison yet. Then I looked back at the Sunshine Girl photo again. The last two lines of the caption below the photograph read, "Laura has an interest in hockey players. She enjoys walking hand-in-hand barefoot on the sands of a tropical beach." Obviously Laura was an Ottawa girl who liked contrasts and also needed a reality check. 'You live in Ottawa, Laura, not Havana, for goodness sake! Ottawa has no tropical beaches! Just a lot of hot air emanating from the politicians in our nation's capital.'

Suddenly I found a pair of soft hands covering my eyes from behind.

"Don't look!" said Allie. I knew it was her even before she had spoken. A mere touch from her always seemed to send tingles up and down my spine. Her presence always energized and excited me.

"Let me guess," I said. "My prayers have been answered. It's the Sunshine Girl! Your name is Laura, right?"

Allie removed her hands and gave me a playful slap on the shoulder.

I cowered in mock fright, raising my arms to protect myself from the 'violent' onslaught.

Allie gave me a warm hug and a kiss instead.

"Sorry I'm late."

"That's okay. I just got here too. I only had time to go get something to drink," I said as I glanced over to the cup of tea. "I'm still trying to revive myself from that last lecture. Hey, do you think it's possible to fall asleep with your eyes wide open? That would be a great skill to master in the Economics class."

"I don't know about your Nytol Economics class. But, I wish I had fallen asleep when I saw the film Eyes Wide Shut."

Allie had been to the Bijou Cinema again. She was a real film buff.

I didn't dare mention to Allison that I couldn't take my eyes off Nicole Kidman. Hell, she could read the phonebook to me and I'd still find her entertaining.

And now that she had won an Oscar and Tom Cruise was no longer in the picture…

I got up from my chair to help Allie remove her green canvas backpack and then I set it down on the gray ceramic tile floor. Even though Allie was dressed in Gap jeans and a cotton sweater over a white blouse, typical student wear, she was still the most alluring girl on the Queen's University campus. Her wavy brunette hair framed drop-dead gorgeous features. She radiated love. Her inner beauty could not be contained.

"Hey! I've got some exciting news." Allie's flawless features broke into a perfect smile, as we both took our seats.

"What's up?"

"The Kingston Repertory Theater is going to be performing a musical next. I just can't wait!"

Her deep brown eyes mesmerized me.

"Which one?"

Allie savored the thought for a moment, building up the anticipation. "Chicago!"

"Wow! I like it!"

"Yes, it's great. I'd love the chance to sing and dance and act! I loved the movie! Renee Zellweger and Catherine Zeta-Jones were terrific!"

"Yes. They were both fantastic! And the movie won several Academy Awards, including Best Supporting Actress for Catherine Zeta-Jones and, of course, Best Picture."

"Oh, I hope I can land the Zeta-Jones part of Velma Kelly."

"Are you nasty enough and sleazy enough to be an entertainer, murderer and convict in 1920s Chicago?"

"Well, I'm friends with a gender bending 'girl' who works in a sleazy bar. And I live in Kingston, home of the most famous penitentiary in Canada. And, if that's not enough, I think I'm quite capable of faking it," commented Allie with a smile. "You know, Hold'em, maybe there's even a part in it for you."

"I doubt that I have the time, but I think you'd make a great Velma Kelly. I know you have a great singing voice. When we went to that karaoke club, the audience loved you. And, as for the dancing, the Bob Fosse style choreography, you could handle that with no trouble at all. You move well."

"Thanks Hold'em. You sound like you know a bit about the theater."

"Yes, I enjoy Broadway musicals. Let's just say it was part of a well-rounded education. My parents took me to see plays, the ballet and the symphony occasionally on visits to Toronto when I was younger. I'm really into appreciating the performing arts scene. I especially admire talented young actresses."

Allison demurely averted her eyes at the compliment. "So, you think you might want to come to the audition?"

"Sure. I'd like to see how you do."

"And will you audition too?"

"No…I don't think so. I can't afford the time off. Between school and the Lad and Hooker Club, I just can't handle anything else. And I really do need the money from the job to help pay for next year's tuition and everything else."

"Well, how about helping me rehearse my part? I've got a copy of the script. I need to learn the lines and the songs too."

"I'd love too, as long as I can take the role of Billy Flynn, the lawyer. You know, the part Richard Gere played."

"And I will be Velma Kelly."

"Now, you know what I thought the film Chicago lacked?"

"What?"

"An X-rated love scene."

Allie slugged me on the arm. "Well then, go down to the Perverted Adults Only Video place. I'm sure they'll have a porno version of Chicago by now."

Gee whiz! How come I hadn't thought of that?

 

9

Friday night at the Hook and Ladder was invariably an exciting time. The place was always hopping! We regularly brought in some of the top strippers from the United States and Canada. Kingston, and our club in particular, had a good reputation on the strip club circuit. The up-front pay for the featured performers was good, the crowds relatively well behaved, the working conditions reasonable, and most importantly - the patrons were generous with their applause and their money.

When I began changing into my black French maid outfit, I took a long look in the full-length mirror of the modest dressing room. Damn! I looked like a fine female specimen. Over the three weeks I had been working, I think I had lost an inch or two around the waist from doing three hundred stomach crunches every morning and wearing a corset to bed. Also, my breasts appeared to be larger. I had read a Reader's Digest article that some herbs and foods had unusual effects on the body. For example, licorice helped ease bowel movements. But, it also had a feminizing effect; there was some kind of female hormone in licorice. So, maybe it was the daily stick of licorice that I had been eating, or perhaps the use of tape to push up my chest flesh every day had had its effect. Curious to see if there had been a change, I pulled out a measuring tape from one of the club's wardrobe closets. My perception was dead on. My waist had shrunk to 25 inches. My chest was now 38 and my hips remained at 37 inches. Even after slipping on the black thong and bra, there was no evidence of a man beneath these minimal coverings. It was all gorgeous woman! Next, the black low cut top had a puffy white lace sleeve that covered the upper arm. The skirt was short to show my legs to their best advantage. Also, tonight, I wore a new wig. It was 100% human hair. The auburn tresses were full of bounce. I loved the way it held its body when I shook my head. The facial makeup was flawless. The bone structure, nose and eyes reminded me a little of my namesake - supermodel Linda Evangelista. It really turned me on. My penis struggled to free itself from the confines of my tight gaff. I turned to the side and then to the rear. I flicked up the skirt of my French maid outfit! Nice buns! Plus, the long shapely legs perched on top of stiletto heels were as sexy as any supermodels limbs. Fabulous! My arms were long, smooth and thin, with little evidence of musculature. My neck was long and thin without any hint of an Adam's Apple. Yes! I was the full package! What could I say! I couldn't help it if I was beautiful! Narcissism was alive and well - thriving in Linda/William!

The dressing room door opened.

"Hi Linda!"

"Oh hi there, Sinead." Even my voice was getting to be quite convincing. Initially, I had tried to talk in a high pitch. But, a falsetto sounded so phony. I discovered that my best female voice evolved out of my tenor singing voice. The higher ranges of my natural singing voice made for a sexy, throaty feminine tone.

"Are you all set to go?"

"Yes Sinead," I replied as I stashed my belongings into my locker. "Am I assigned my usual area?"

"You certainly are, Linda. The boys are anxious tonight. We have a new girl on stage this evening. Harry Thomas brought her in from Montreal. Her name is Chantal Dion. She looks like an angel, but swears like a sailor. Sacre bleu!" joked Sinead. "In any case, she looks beautiful - almost as beautiful as you."

"Thank you for the compliment," I replied as I kissed Sinead on both cheeks. We had grown closer over the three weeks. I liked her a lot. "You are god's gift to Kingston," I added.

"I love your hair," said Sinead. "There's something different about it. It's fuller, it has more body. I know. You got a new wig."

That stopped me in my tracks.

"You knew I wore a wig?"

"Linda, I can spot a wig very easily - even human hair ones. There are lots of girls working here who alter their appearance dramatically by changing wigs or dyeing their hair or getting larger implants."

With trepidation, I asked, "Do you know my other secret?"

Sinead put her arms around me and gave me a firm hug. Her face was buried in my bosom due to the difference in our heights. Then, as she looked up, she whispered, "We all have secrets in this business. Don't worry. Your identity will remain a mystery."

With that, she gave me a pat on the fanny and I scooted out of the dressing room into the main hall of the club.

Right off the bat, the pace was brisk. I was extremely busy. A large group of handsome young students, from the Royal Military College, had dropped by. If these were the officers of tomorrow, I hoped they could learn some self-control. Their wandering eyes and hands were going to be a problem. They hadn't been in the club long enough to be drunk. Yet, I already had a sore rear from being pinched about ten times. I was about to accidentally spill some beer on one of the rowdier ones to cool them down.

Then, I heard a voice call out, "Hey beautiful!"

I turned to look around. Holy shit! Oh no! For Chrissake! All my poker friends, Studlater, Paul, Damian and Mike, were sitting at a front row table beside the runway!

Goddammit! Studlater was sure to recognize me! Studlater had had an up close and personal experience with me at the Halloween party. But Studlater had never seen 'me' since that night in my Linda guise.

Well, to paraphrase the Music Man, 'Ya got trouble, folks, right here in Rideau River City, with a capital T.'

"Good evening gentlemen. Are you ready to order or would you like more time to consider your choices?" I asked with a cheery voice and a sexy smile.

"We're ready to order," announced Paul.

"Beer, beer and more beer," added Damian, pounding on the black tabletop three times for emphasis.

"A pitcher of Labatt draft please," said Mike 'Cool Hand' Duke.

Studlater looked up at me in amazement. "Is your name Linda?" he asked.

"Yes," I replied with feigned surprise. "How did you know? You've been here before I take it."

"I met you at the Halloween party at Queen's University," he said.

The other guys looked at me, then Studlater, in amazement.

For a moment, I pretended not to recognize him. "Oh…" I paused and looked him over from head to toe. "You were dressed as Dracula, weren't you?"

"That's right. If I recall correctly, you said you were in the Theater Arts Department - a Drama student."

"That's right. I was an English major with a Drama minor."

"You were?"

"Yes, I dropped out at Christmas." I had to try to minimize any further contact with Studlater.

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Studlater. He paused before making any further comment. "What happened? Why did you drop out?"

"Well, I got pregnant." I'm the world's biggest liar, I really am. "But, don't worry. It's not yours…Besides, I had an abortion."

All the guys at the table looked at me thunderstruck! Their eyebrows rose in shock! Then they looked at Studlater, then back at me. They all must have thought this angelic lady's looks were deceiving. She had to be pure white trailer park trash! At least, that's what I hoped they were thinking.

"Also, I couldn't afford to fall further and further into debt. So, I took this job…It pays the bills. And, the manager, Mr. Thomas, might give me a chance at dancing in the near future." I hoped that would discourage Studlater from having any interest in me. "And you fellas? Why are you here tonight?"

"We're here to celebrate," said Damian. "Paul just got notice that he's been hired by Dell Computers this summer."

"Now you really are a Laptop, PC," added Studlater, giving the diminutive Paul Campbell the gears about his nickname.

"Inspiron to the rest of you," quipped Paul.

The other guys laughed. Paul's inspiring/Inspiron pun did not go unnoticed. Dell's Laptop model was called the Inspiron. Then, my poker buddies focused their attention back on me.

"That's not the reason I'm here," said Mike boldly. "You're a sexy woman, and I'm a hungry man."

All eyes at the table looked at me, anticipating a rejoinder.

"I am not a cave-woman and you, Mr. Neanderthal, are not even in the same league as Fred Flintstone," I said with disdain. Linda could be a very snotty female dog if it suited her. "Please stand up for a moment, sonny."

Mike pushed back his wooden chair and stood up, with an impish grin on his boyish face. He was about 5' 10" in height. At 6' 4" in my stiletto heels, I towered over him.

"Yes, I may be a sexy woman, but you're only half a man," I said in a breathy sexy voice, as I leaned over and kissed him on the forehead.

I could be flirtatious too. I earned more money in tips when I led on the customers a little.

Studlater slapped Mike on the back. The others laughed, although Paul Campbell's laugh was quieter than the others were because Paul stood 5' 6" on his tiptoes.

Then, I hurried away to get the pitcher of beer and the glasses.

I tried to time my return visit to the friends' table so that their attention would be directed to the stripper on stage. Some old Alice Cooper tune was blaring over the loudspeaker. "School's out for summer!" sang Alice. Meanwhile, the exotic dancer slithered sensuously down the catwalk. She flicked her long triangular tongue out from beneath her long brunette tresses. Tricia Delight was the name of the cute girl with the fluid movements and the pet boa constrictor. The fellas didn't dare take their eyes off Tricia while her pet wrapped itself around her arms and waist. I served my friends as quickly and efficiently as I could. They hardly noticed I was there.

It turned out to be Mike's round to pay. I got a $2 tip from the cheapskate. I guess I shouldn't have put him down with the 'half a man' comment. But, what the hell! I did kiss him on the forehead!

But, the way Studlater eyed me made me feel uneasy. He couldn't have recognized me as William Hold'em Copperfield, could he? I mean, my hair color was different. My eyes were green. With these high heels, I was three or four inches taller. The tape and push up bra gave Linda cleavage that flat-chested William could never have. Linda's eyebrows were much thinner than William's 'caterpillar' brows due to the skillful application of theatrical putty and makeup. Besides, 'Linda' was a babe! Hold'em was a wimp.

A new stripper named Carmen Sin Diego bumped and grinded her way down the runway. She was putting the 'la vida loca' in Ricky Martin's She Bangs. Or was it the bang in La Vida Loca? Or was it Carmen's in Diego?

Through the rest of this Friday evening, I was constantly busy. I didn't have much time for banter with the customers. Although my friends ordered three more rounds of beer, they never really had a chance to talk to me again. Some of the other customers were very demanding. In fact, I had to call over the bouncer to escort one of the Royal Military College boys out the door. He was falling down drunk, but he wanted to keep drinking. I hated it when some immature pseudo soldier got so drunk he puked his guts out. If you want to know the truth, we tried our best to look after our customers. We even called a cab for him and his comrades in arms to take back to their residence.

Before I knew it, my shift was over and I could breathe a sigh of relief.

 

10

By the time the club had closed and I had changed out of the frilly French maid outfit back into my 'Linda' street clothes, it must have been 2:20 a.m. I figured my poker-playing buddies were still at it, dealing cards, smoking cigarettes or Cuban cigars and drinking beer in Paul Campbell's room.

Although it was early April, nights in Kingston were still pretty cold. My 'fashionable' long coat, which I had picked up at a bargain price from Goodwill, and a pantsuit would suffice. I no longer wore high heels to and from the residence. Flats were much easier for me, especially after a long shift in stiletto heels.

I hadn't walked very far, when someone calling my name surprised me.

"Linda! Linda!"

From across the street, I could see a tall figure bounding toward me. He wore a red Queen's leather jacket and blue jeans. It was Studlater.

"Hello," I replied. 'Oh no,' I thought to myself. 'I hope he's not going to try and make a pass at me here.' I had had this kind of thing happen several times before - overzealous customers who wanted to date me. The previous times, I had returned to the club and had Phil, the club bouncer, take care of the problem.

"Linda, I need to talk to you for a moment. Please, I just need to speak to you for two minutes," begged Studlater.

"All right. I can spare two minutes."

"Ever since Halloween night, I wondered what happened to you. Halloween night, you looked absolutely gorgeous in that Las Vegas showgirl outfit, but I could never find you on campus. And, believe me, I looked everywhere. I hung out around the Theatrical Arts Department, I attended plays, and I looked for you in the Arts cafeteria. You simply disappeared. I never thought I'd see you again."

I did my best to give him a disdainful sneer.

"Let's see. When I last saw you, your girlfriend had just discovered me in your room. We were about to have sex. Then, you got up, proclaimed your love for her, and left me behind…I was not impressed." Wow! Could I act or what?

"Yes. That's all true. But, tonight, when I saw you again, I believe I saw things in a different light."

"And what did you see in a different light?"

"You were not the person I thought you were."

"Meaning?"

"I didn't expect to find you working in a strip club."

"And I didn't expect you to be patron of a strip club."

Studlater gave me a sheepish grin.

"Fair enough. But, I have deeply regretted cheating on my former girlfriend Allison."

"Good for you," I replied, without any softening of my hard line.

"Now, I realize that loyalty to friends is important. Trust among friends is essential. Forgiveness, though difficult to offer, is a characteristic of a truly great person."

"Well, I hope your former girlfriend will forgive you." With that, I turned away and started walking. I felt like a real shmuck for having deceived Studlater. Here he was pouring, his guts out, begging for another chance. But, I couldn't let Studlater or my other friends find out about my secret. Otherwise, I'd be the laughing stock of the whole university.

"Wait a second, Linda. Or should I say William? Can I offer you a lift home?"

I froze in my tracks. Then, I turned around.

"I was right, wasn't I?" claimed Studlater triumphantly.

"How did you know?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"I kept telling myself it was impossible." Studlater looked at me with a beguiling smile on his face. "You do look so amazing. It is so hard to believe."

"What gave me away?"

"Actually, there wasn't any one thing. There were some little, insignificant things. Now, please, can we get into my car? It's freezing out here."

After pausing a moment to consider his invitation, I simply said, "All right, Eric."

Studlater, ever the gentleman, opened the door on the passenger side of his brand new Ford Mustang for me, and gently closed it behind me. The car was a gift from his ultra-wealthy parents for his recent birthday. Then, Studlater ran around to the driver's side and climbed in.

"So Eric, how did you find out?" I asked anxiously, still in my Linda voice.

"There were a lot of things that didn't add up. For instance, Halloween night. I never saw William dressed up as a girl. And I didn't believe it was you in the Miss Piggy outfit. None of us believed Allison would dress you in a Miss Piggy outfit. The idea was to dress you as a girl - to humiliate you. Secondly, I could never find 'Linda' again. A girl as beautiful as 'Linda' would be pretty easy to find on a small campus like Queen's. Then, when I considered that 'Linda' might have been William in drag, I didn't want to believe it. I mean, even when I look at you now, I still find it hard to believe. You not only look like a girl, hell, you could be a supermodel!"

"Thanks." I felt immense pleasure from that compliment - especially from a good friend like Studlater. "What about tonight? What finally gave me away?"

"When I saw you tonight, I was shocked. I tried to connect my view of William with this gorgeous vision of Linda. Okay, the flowing, fiery red hair could be a wig. The eyes had me puzzled for a long time. Linda's eyes seemed bigger and they were green. Plus, the eyebrows were much thinner. What an incredible job of makeup that would take! But, Allison knows how to do theatrical makeup. So, it was entirely possible you could have learned how to do it…But, what a body! Your breasts! Hold'em, I don't know where you got those tits! It's amazing!"

I laughed at the praise. I felt some pride in the successful deception.

"You've got a thin waist, hot buns and gorgeous gams too! You could model for the Victoria Secrets Catalogue!" praised Studlater.

"Thanks for the compliment, Eric." Without thinking, I kissed him on the cheek.

"And you behave like a woman too. And that sexy voice! I don't know how you did it! You're not on female hormones, are you?" Studlater asked in a suspicious voice.

"No," I said with a laugh.

"That abortion story really unnerved me, you sly devil."

"Well, considering what we were doing the last time Linda saw you…" I shrugged.

"Your story about dropping out seemed to fit. You are a truly convincing actress. I wasn't sure you really were William, so I asked that other waitress, Sinead I think is her name, at the Hook and Ladder. I asked her your last name. She said she didn't give out personal information, that I would have to ask you. But, she looked worried when she replied, like she was hiding a secret. Then, somehow I knew it had to be you. It would explain why you haven't been around much lately. Why you haven't been in the poker games. Besides, Linda is very tall for a girl. Also, I've noticed on William lately, the scent of perfume. Even after a shower, the scent of perfume can linger."

"I see…So, what are you going to do?"

"Don't worry." Studlater placed his hand on my arm. "You are an incredibly beautiful cocktail waitress. Absolutely unbelievable! I would not reveal your secret without your permission. Besides, I have just as much to lose as you do. I mean, I tried to make love to a beautiful woman, who turned out to be a male friend in drag."

He was so sweet. "Thanks Eric, for keeping the secret," I said softly, as I kissed him again, this time on the mouth.

For a moment, Studlater, I mean Eric, paused. Then, as if saying to himself, what the hell, he returned my kiss with some feeling. He opened his mouth, pressed harder on me, and this time I could feel the electricity. There was fire and desire here!

"Hot damn!" whispered Studlater. Then, he practically attacked me!

I didn't resist. Hell no! We thrashed about, caught in the throes of animal attraction! Eric really was a dominant male! And he made me feel like a real woman! It was pure lust! Pure Passion!

After we came up for air, Eric quickly fished two condoms out of the glove compartment, and we adjusted my bucket seat into the reclining position. Studlater reached below the car seat, depressed a lever, and then pushed the seat as far back as it could go. It wasn't exactly roomy or comfortable, but after a few minutes of heated foreplay, the windows of the Mustang fogged up in the cold night air. Studlater was a great kisser, although his tongue tasted of beer - Labatt Draft.

I turned over to expose my backside to Studlater, lowering my pantsuit and panties, and releasing my black satin gaff. But Studlater knew what he wanted to do. He turned my body around so that I was facing him again. He looked briefly at my bra covered chest and then briefly at my genitals. Then he undid his belt, top button and zipper. With his pants down, he unsheathed his 'weapon.' It was humoungous! If my penis was nicknamed Mr. Wiggly, Studlater's tool was a Scud Missile! Then he covered the warhead with a Sheik. A lubricated condom was placed over my erection too. Next, he lifted my legs up with his hands so that my legs were positioned up around his shoulders, exposing my 'vagina' to his huge penis. As Studlater slowly inserted his projectile, I felt some pain as my orifice tried to adjust to the girth of his shaft. I must admit to feeling some discomfort. I'm not a Cirque du Soleil contortionist nor had I ever been penetrated before. Studlater gently pushed his organ in as far as it would go. Then, he drew back, then forward again. The car started to move imperceptibly. Slowly at first, it began to rock back and forth. The Mustang bucked, slightly faster, and then faster! For some reason, I imagined the strains of Ravel's Bolero playing over the car stereo, picking up tempo. Linda was Bo Derek in that old movie '10.' Eric was Studly Dudley Moore, only much bigger! As Eric thrust harder and faster, it hurt terribly. But I felt a combination of both pain and bliss! Back and forth, faster and faster, driven by passion. As the music in my head accelerated to its penultimate climax, the Scud Stud exploded! Eric came! Rapture! Then I came too! Orgasm! Ecstasy! My whole body shook! It was a moment I will cherish forever!

Then, after the fireworks, we lay exhausted. Studlater was fully spent. He withdrew his love muscle. He allowed me to lower my legs into a more comfortable position, wrapped around his muscular thighs. As we cuddled, basking in the glow of our lovemaking, I looked into his eyes, and I had a moment of self-doubt. Did I love him? Did Eric love me? Or was I just another one of Studlater's many sexual conquests? Another notch on the side of the Scud Stud's Missile Launcher?

The incongruity of the situation and circumstances kind of made me wonder. I had just had sex with an attractive male friend, while I was in drag, sprawled out on the reclining seat of Studlater's Shaggin' wagon in downtown Kingston.

Studlater wrapped me in his strong arms once again. We kissed sensuously, for what seemed an eternity.

Jubilation! Exhilaration!

It was heavenly bliss!

But, how could I, a normal heterosexual guy, have enjoyed this gay sexual encounter? 'Oh, what the hell!' I thought to myself. 'Carpe diem. Seize the day. Live the moment. I couldn't worry about Studlater, lust, true love, long term relationships or the meaning of life.'

As Woody Allen once said, "Sex without love is a meaningless act. But, as meaningless acts go, it's one of the best."

One of the very best!

THE END

  

  

  

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