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Bobbi 6 of 14: One, Two, Three, Kick!
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Archive-Name: bobbi-06
ONE, TWO, THREE, KICK!
The rest of that week passed in an ordinary manner. There was only the
usual routine of work, and lunch with Edith. We were becoming very
close, and I liked that. She was true to her word in acting very
motherly toward me. Edith wanted to know all that was happening to me,
and all that I was feeling. I was happy to tell her all about it too.
It felt good to have someone like her to confide in. Margo was all
right as a roommate, but there were just some things that I did not
like to talk with her about. She was a little too cynical about
people. They had failed her too many times.
Edith wanted me to come over to her home for dinner one evening. She
lived out in Queens, and had her mother, Sarah, living with her. I
wanted to do that too. Since my family had written me off, I missed
that sort of contact. Edith and her mother could provide that missing
part of my life, and they were more than willing to do it.
Edith said that she would just introduce me to her mother as a girl-
friend from work. Sarah was 84 years old, and it was not worth making
a long explanation to her about me. I agreed with that. I wanted
everyone to think of me as the woman that I am anyway, so there was no
need to complicate things for Sarah. Things were going to be a little
hectic for me that week, so we put it off for now.
The next big step in my life was my first dancing class with Toni at
the "Stage Door Dance Academy" on Friday evening. After the session at
the rehearsal of the "G.G.Girls" chorus line, I wondered if I was up to
it. My legs hurt right after the rehearsal, but that was nothing com-
pared with the way they felt the next day! I could barely get out of
bed on Wednesday morning. I was just not used to that much exercise,
but I knew that was the only way to get what I wanted out of this. I
steeled myself to what was ahead.
Tina said that I should work at the dance exercises as much as I could
until my muscles loosened up enough. It was not easy, but I did my
best. I worked out in the living room of the apartment every night
that week using the back of the sofa or a kitchen chair for a dancer's
bar. Margo was playfully annoyed at this, but generally supportive.
For all the problems that we had, we were very much like sisters
through it.
The telephone rang at about 8:00PM on Wednesday night. I had just got
home after shopping with Edith, and was getting ready to do my dance
exercises. It was Peter. After a few pleasantries, he asked, "What
are you doing on Saturday night? Could we have dinner?" He wanted to
take me out on a real date!
No man had ever asked me out before, and I was thrilled. It was with a
lot of sadness that I had to tell him, "We have a show at 'The Gilded
Grape' on Saturday, and I'm in the chorus line. I can have a drink
with you between the shows, but I won't be free until about midnight."
"That's all right," Peter responded. "I'd like to see the show, and if
you're in it, that's so much the better, doll! Maybe I could take you
home afterward."
I liked the interest he was showing in me. I did, however, wonder if
he had anything in mind for when he got me home after the show. It was
not that I did not want him to get me into bed. I did want him to get
me into bed, but I was sort of hoping that we could get at least one
date in first.
"That would be nice," I told Peter. "A girl can always use an escort
on these streets at night." He chuckled, and said, "Than it's a date!
I'll see you at 'The Gilded Grape' on Saturday night. Bye for now,
doll!" I said "good-bye" too, and hung up. I was already looking
forward to seeing him again. He was cute enough to daydream over while
I exercised.
The only other incident of sorts took place on Thursday morning. I was
putting away some stock at work when Edith came out into the stockroom
to get me. "There's a call for you in the office," she said. "It's
Paul from Personnel." Edith and I exchanged knowing glances. She knew
from our lunchtime talks that Paul and I were seeing each other. I had
planned not to tell her, but it was just too good a piece of gossip to
hold back.
I entered the office, and Edith pointed to the telephone on the spare
desk. Mr. Steinman, the Assistant Buyer, was in the office, so I had
to be careful of what I said. I picked up the receiver, pushed the
button that was flashing, and said, "Hello?"
"Hello, Bobbi?," said Paul. "Yes," I answered. "Listen," he went on,
"I know that you can't, err... talk there in the office, so just say
'yes' or 'no'. All right?" "Okay," I answered. "I know that we had
planned to, err... get together this week, but I, err... can't make it.
My wife is in one of her, err... moods, and I can't get away. You do
understand, don't you?" "Sure," I answered in a sympathetic tone.
"That's good," said Paul with a little sigh of relief in his voice.
"We're still, err... friends, right?" "Yes," I answered. "You're
still going to, err... see me from time to time, right?" "Yes," I
answered.
"Oh, yeah!," he said remembering something else. "You have an appoint-
ment with my, err... buddy Jack at two o'clock on Tuesday about that
modeling job, so I, err... set it up with your Buyer that you can,
err... leave at noon, and take the rest of the day off. We put it down
as a half of one of your, err... personal days, so you still get paid
for it. All right?" "Yes!," I answered excitedly.
"Okay, cutie!," Paul said. "We both have to get back to work. Err..
tell anyone who asks that I was just giving you the, err... OK on your
half personal day for next week. That isn't a, err... lie. Bye,
cutie!" "All right," I said, "bye-bye."
"Is everything okay?," Mr. Steinman asked as I hung up the telephone.
"Oh, sure," I answered. "I had just asked for Tuesday afternoon off to
take care of some family matters, and they were just letting me know
that they had cleared it with Mr. Conlin." Mr. Steinman frowned a
little, and said, "He didn't say anything to me about it, but I guess
it's okay. No serious problems at home, I hope?" "No," I answered,
"just usual family nonsense." He turned back to his desk, and I went
back to the stockroom.
I told Edith all about the calls from my two new boyfriends over lunch.
She showed a motherly interest in them asking, "Well, when do I get to
meet them? You should bring them home to meet your mother sometime."
We both laughed at this, but it was not a bad idea. I asked Edith,
"When I do, could I... introduce you as my mother for real? I would
like that." Edith got a little misty, and after a short pause, answer-
ed, "Of course, Bobbi. I would like that very much too."
I think we got even closer then if that was possible. She had already
accepted me as her daughter, and this was my way of telling her that I
too accepted the relationship. I really did see her as my mother in
every way. A girl needs a mother to help her along, and be a sort of
refuge for her to turn to when she has problems. Since my natural
mother had abandoned this role, I needed a substitute. Edith was more
than willing to accept the role, and I was happy to have her in it.
There is a real "sisterhood" among women that most men do not fully
understand. It was slowly beginning to show itself to my own under-
standing, and Edith was part of it. She was also as much a friend as a
mother figure, and I liked that part best of all. We have stayed that
way all of my life.
Friday came at last, and I was ready for it. I had packed all of my
rehearsal clothes, and a few other things in a big blue canvas bag that
I could sling over my shoulder by its handles to go to work. My dan-
cing class was due to start at 6:00PM, so I would have to go straight
from work. I would have liked to have work a skirt that day, but I
could not go to work in one.
I was hating that job more and more every day. Margo worked as a cas-
hier in a variety store, and held that job as a woman. I would have
liked to do the same, but the salary she made was very small. That is
why she turned tricks for cash as a TV prostitute at night. There was
no other way to afford the apartment we shared. My moving in meant
that she did not have to turn as many tricks, but she still needed to
do a few. If I were to have taken a job like her's, it would mean that
I would have to do the same thing. I did not want to have to live that
way.
I did not make a large salary at the department store, but it was just
about enough for the rent, food, clothing, and other essentials. I
turned a few tricks too. That gave me some extra money to have fun
with. I could also just afford the twenty dollars a week for the dan-
cing lessons on my salary.
The doctor bills that I would have to incur in order to be all the
woman that I could be were another matter. I knew that a full program
of Sexual Reassignment Surgery, or SRS, cost quite a bit of money, but
I had no idea of how I would get it. Turning to my family was out of
the question. There were only two possible options as I saw it. I
could save enough out of part-time modeling assignments if the inter-
view that Paul had set up with his friend Jack worked out, or I could
turn, like so many other drag queens, to prostitution.
Prostitution is an easy way to make a small living for a number of drag
queens. There are always men who are unsettled enough with their sex-
uality that they want to try a sample of what it is like to have a sex-
ual encounter with another man, but need the trappings of femininity
that such an encounter with a drag queen provides to keep them from
thinking that they have turned "queer". There are bisexual men who
just enjoy making love with a transvestite. Also there are the men
that just want a "change of pace" from their wives and/or girlfriends.
Many men of these types are willing to spend a few dollars to satisfy
their needs.
Crossing the gender gap from male to female can be very impoverishing.
Most males lack the job skills that are needed to fit into a mid-range
"female" job like secretary or typist, and the top-of-the-line jobs are
difficult to get when you show up at the interview in a skirt while
your university record indicates that you are a male. Even for low
level jobs things are difficult if you do not have identification and a
Social Security Number that shows you to be female.
I got around all this by holding my job as a male while living the rest
of the time as a female. Margo did it by working "off the books" for
an employer that knew she was a transvestite. She had to give the guy
at least one blow-job a week in his dingy office at the back of the
store to keep the job, but she did not seem to mind that very much.
The real problem that she and other transvestites that supported them-
selves in the same way had was a total lack of any reserves or benefits
of any kind. It is a completely hand-to-mouth existence. It is very
easy to loose all self-esteem living that way, yet that very sense of
self-esteem is what you need most to become all the woman that you can
be. Prostitution offers an easy way to lift yourself up a little on an
economic basis for as long as you are pretty enough to attract a "john"
while satisfying an inner need of most transvestites to prove them-
selves as women sexually as often as possible.
Making the decision to adopt the lifestyle of the drag queen can be as
painful as making the decision not to adopt it. The need to be what I
really am, however, compels me to do it. I cannot deny myself.
The real problem that I had with the way I was supporting myself was
that it was depressing. I was thinking about this as I handed the bag
with my rehearsal clothes in it to Edith to keep under her desk for me.
I was dressed in my usual jeans, sweater top, and penny loafers, but in
that bag were the things that I would rather have been wearing includ-
ing a skirt, heels, stockings, and lingerie that I would change into
after my class. I so desperately wanted to be wearing them now.
I retrieved my bag from Edith at 4:45PM. Mr. Conlin had said that it
was all right for me to leave fifteen minutes early on Fridays from
then on. I had told him that I needed the extra time to get to school,
and he seemed pleased to help me in continuing my education. I just
neglected to tell him what sort of class I was taking.
Edith wished me luck as I headed out the door to my first dancing
class. The "Stage Door Dancing Academy" was on 48th Street between 8th
Avenue and Broadway. Those side streets around Broadway just north of
Times Square are lined with aging office buildings filled with busines-
ses involved in the theatrical trades. This is where you start your
climb to stardom through the rehearsal floors of the dancing schools,
or the casting couches of the agents and producers. This is also a
place to wind out your career when you find out that stardom is harder
to achieve than you thought, and get a job as a dance teacher for a new
crop of hopefuls, or a receptionist for a producer where you can usher
those same hopefuls toward that casting couch that is still warm from
your own turn on it.
I took a few minutes to stop into the Coffee Shop near the department
store for a soda, and pop into their Ladies Room to put on my make-up,
bra, and jewelry as I did each evening on my way home from work. I got
a big smile and a little wave from the Puerto Rican boy behind the
counter when I walked in. I smiled back at him, and parked my canvas
bag on the counter with him while I used the Ladies Room. His smile
was even broader when I emerged all made-up. "You early tonight, si?,"
he said with a heavy accent. "Yes," I answered. "I'm going to dancing
class." He added a nod to the smile as he brought my soda, but said no
more as he went back to his station at the end of the counter. His
boss did not like him to talk to the customers.
I finished the soda, and gave him a smile of my own as I left. I wal-
ked up 5th Avenue to 42nd Street then crosstown to Times Square. I
looked over all the theater marquees as I turned again uptown through
Times Square on Broadway. I was daydreaming of what it would be like
to have my name up there as the leading lady in a musical. It was a
pleasant thought, but a goal that was a long way off, and rather un-
realistic. I would settle for a job as a chorus girl, but I wanted
that job as a woman instead of just being one of the TV's in the
"G.G.Girls" chorus line. I made up my mind then to set that as a goal.
I got to the "Stage Door Dance Academy" about twenty-five minutes
early. There was nothing at all fancy about the place. The little
outer office was plain with just a few chairs, and a small desk behind
which sat a small middle aged woman. "May I help you?," she asked as I
came in.
I told her my name, and she said, "Oh yes, you're just starting to-
night. We have a few forms to fill out, and then Toni wants to see you
before class." She handed me a clipboard with some papers on it, and I
sat down to fill them out. They were standard name and address, con-
tract, and insurance forms, and I was done with them quickly. I handed
them back to her, and she said, "Okay, come with me, and I'll take you
back to meet Toni." My dancing career was about to begin.
A door in the reception area led back to the dance floor. It was just
a big room with a wooden floor about thirty feet square. One wall was
all windows looking onto 48th Street, and another was all mirrors. A
dancer's bar ran around most of the walls except for the one with the
windows. An odd assortment of crude props cluttered one corner, and an
upright piano filled another next to which was a bookcase full of tapes
and records with a small hi-fi set on top.
Over on one wall near the window side of the room was a door that bore
the name "TONI" in capital letters over a big gold star. "My name is
Liz. I run the office, and play the piano here. I'm the one you come
to if you have any problems," she said as we crossed the dance floor,
and she knocked at the door to Toni's office.
"Come!," said a voice from inside, and Liz opened the door to let me
in. Inside Toni sat behind a large wooden desk. There was a sidechair
by the desk, and Toni shook my hand, and motioned for me to sit.
Toni's office was a little less spartan than the rest of the "Stage
Door Dance Academy". Her desk dominated the room with its presence,
and that was because it looked slightly out of place. The rest of the
room looked more like a dancer's dressing room done up as a museum dis-
play. The windows overlooking 48th Street continued across one wall of
the office. There was a dressing table with a mirror ringed with
lights on the opposite wall. Behind the desk were some bookcases full
of books on dance and business, a file cabinet, and a rail of costumes.
A large brown leather sofa was against the wall just inside the door
with a side table next to it topped by a pile of worn dance magazines,
and a lamp with a statue of a nude woman in a ballet pose as its base.
A matching lamp with the figure of a nude man in another pose decorated
a twin table at the other end of the sofa. The walls were covered with
framed newspaper clippings and photographs mostly of or about Toni, but
some of famous dancers complete with autographs. One picture looked
very much like Tina, but I could not be sure.
Toni herself was tall with a figure that can only be described as wil-
lowy. Her breasts and hips were not large, and there was not the trace
of an ounce of fat anywhere about her. Her features ran to the "man-
nish" side with high angular cheekbones and a strong chin. Her medium
brown hair was short. Her dark eyes flashed with a fire and drive that
I have seen in few women. She was quite beautiful.
"Bobbi," Toni began as I sat in the chair, and Liz closed the door
leaving us alone, "I talk to all the new girls when they first arrive
to give them the rules here." Her voice was stern but friendly, and I
sat up straight to show interest.
"We have a nice group here, and I like it that way," Toni continued.
"I expect all of my girls to be on time, and do what they're told. The
key to dance is discipline. If you're here just for fun or figure con-
trol, you're in the wrong place. I train serious dancers who want to
work as dancers. I don't have time for anything else. Do you under-
stand?" I nodded, and Toni went on with a little less stern voice.
"I know that you are a transvestite," she said. "I only train female
dancers normally, but I do make an exception for serious TV's. Tina
vouches for you, so that is fine. There is also another TV in your
class. The rest of the class are all women, but they know that the two
of you are here, so don't feel embarrassed in the dressing room. Your
body is your instrument in dance, so don't be afraid to show it. The
only thing I will NOT tolerate is anything sexual of any type in the
dressing room or on the dance floor. You are just one of the women
here, and I expect you to act like it. Do you understand me?" I said
that I did, and Toni directed me to the dressing room. I left her of-
fice, and headed there. I was on my way to becoming a dancer.
There were two other doors in the wall of the rehearsal studio next to
the one that led to Toni's office. The one on the middle bore the name
"LIZ" with a gold star a little smaller than the one on Toni's door,
and the other just said "Dressing Room" on it. I walked to the dres-
sing room door, and was just about to push it open when Liz cam up be-
hind me, and said, "Just a minute, Bobbi! Let me give you some things
first. This is your I.D. card for the studio just in case I am not
here, and here is your locker key. You have number 32. That's a lucky
one. The last girl that had it is on Broadway now." I took the things
she pushed toward me, and thanked her. It was now time to change, and
get to work.
Inside the dressing room was as plain as the rest of the studio. There
were five or so girls in there when I entered, and all in various
states of undress in the process of changing. I had been in locker
rooms full of boys before, but this was the first time I had ever been
in a girl's locker room. Three walls of the room were all lockers, and
the remaining one was a long make-up table with mirrors and lights
above. It looked just as I pictured any theater chorus dressing room
would look. The center of the room was filled with benches for us to
change on.
I found my locker, and opened it. I set my canvas bag down on a bench,
and started taking off my clothes. Toni had said that she had told the
other girls that there were two TV's in the class, so I had nothing to
worry about from them. I wondered who the other TV was, and how we
would get along. One girl, however, spoke as I removed my bra.
"Hi!," she said. "My name's Pamela. What's your's?" She was a rather
ordinary looking woman, but pleasant enough. "Bobbi," I said with a
smile. She smiled back, and said, "Oh, your one of the drags that Toni
said were in the class. That's all right. I don't mind. My locker is
next to yours, so maybe we can be friends here?" I thought that might
be a good idea, so I went along with it. I wanted to fit into this
group here, so I needed all the friends I could find.
I was just pulling my sweater over my head when a familiar voice said,
"Well, hello Bobbi. Toni didn't tell me that you were the other TV in
the class." The sweater popped off my head to reveal my friend Patty
putting her own bag of rehearsal clothes on the bench. "This might be
fun," I said with a smile of surprise on my face. "I thought you were
in a more advanced class." No," she answered, "I took one class a few
weeks ago, but that was only because Toni didn't have a beginners class
just then. She thought it would be better for me to move to this one."
"Well," I said, "I think it is a pretty good idea too. Maybe we can
help each other."
Having Patty in the class made me feel a little better about it. It is
one thing to be out on the street in drag where nobody knows that you
are not exactly as you present yourself, but quite another to be in the
sort of situation that I was now in. After I had finished talking to
Patty, I turned to strip off my jeans, and was confronted with an en-
tire room full of naked and semi-naked women. There were a total of
twenty of us in the class to start with, and all of us were here now.
Patty and I presented ourselves as women, and Toni had assured us that
we would be treated as such. It was a little intimidating, however, to
be faced with this reality of becoming a woman.
As I grew up, I had, as all boys had, been taught that the Ladies Room
was not a place I should go. The Ladies Room at "The Gilded Grape" was
one in name only. The couple of public Ladies Rooms that I had been in
were almost as sordid affairs as the Men's Rooms that I had been in.
This was very different. It bordered on an almost intimate situation.
I did not feel a strong sexual attraction to these eighteen women, but
I had to force myself not to stare at the strange newness of the
situation.
I stripped down to just my panties, and put on my rehearsal clothes. I
was pulling on my tights when I noticed Pamela staring at me. I looked
up at her, and she blushed in embarrassment. "Oh, I'm sorry," she
said. "That's all right," I said with a giggle. "I like being looked
at." Pamela looked puzzled for a second, and then laughed too. "I
should tell you," she said, "that you're not what I expected when Toni
told me that there would be TV's in the class. You and your friend
Patty are very pretty."
I was pleased to hear her say this, but it was a little naive and con-
descending. I returned her remark by saying, "Thank you, but you did-
n't expect us to have full beards, did you?," and added another girlish
giggle to soften the statement. Pamela laughed too. We had made a
joke of it, but my message had gotten through. She treated me just
like the woman I am ever since then.
I was dressed in a few minutes, and left the dressing room to join the
crowd of women milling about on the dance floor. Then the door to
Toni's office opened, and she appeared. Toni wasted no time in prelim-
inaries, but went about in the group lining us up, and telling us to
remember our places in line for future classes.
She went through a few minutes of the theory of dance, and then laun-
ched into getting us moving with some warm-up and exercise moves.
These were sort of like the moves that Tina had taught me. Other than
some more instruction on some dance theory, and an explanation of the
proper way to move at the dancer's bar, that was about all we did for
the two hours of class. There was not much more she could do with us.
This was the first time on a dance floor for most of those in the
class.
At last Toni told us that next week we would start working on some bal-
let positions, and called the class over. I was tired, but I did not
hurt as I had after the rehearsal with Tina. I guessed that all the
exercises this week were getting my muscles used to this, and I was
right. I was becoming a dancer, but there was still a long way to go.
Liz followed the group into the dressing room carrying a fish bowl full
of little slips of paper. "Only two at a time in the shower!," she
called out. "Draw a number for your turn! Matching numbers shower
together!" I turned to see where Patty went guessing that we would be
exceptions, but Liz stepped in front of me. "Take a number, Bobbi,"
she said. "When we said that you had to be just one of the girls to
fit in, we meant it." She held the fish bowl out, and I took a piece
of paper. On it was the number 6. I wondered who my shower partner
would be.
I walked back to my locker to take my clothes off. I saw Patty there,
but she had drawn an 8, so we would not be together. I stripped down
to my panties, and put on a terry cloth robe. I slipped my panties off
from under the robe without dislodging my penis from its tuck, and
waited for my turn. I knew that I could not keep my penis tucked be-
tween my legs in the shower. I was about to see a live woman totally
naked for the first time in my life, and I was going to be totally nak-
ed too. Most males would have jumped at this chance, but I was nothing
short if terrified!
I had never been naked in front of a woman since I was in diapers. I
felt no sexual attraction toward women, and I had trouble imagining
that any of them would feel any sexual attraction toward me. Sexuality
did not enter my mind at all. What was causing some emotional conflict
was the old taboos of society that I learned as I had grown up. Being
nude with other boys around was something that I had done in high
school. It was even condoned in the gym class shower, but never with
girls around. That taboo was about to receive the same "one, two, th-
ree, KICK!" that we did on the chorus line.
"Six!," Liz called out as two girls emerged from the shower. I rose to
go in, and so did Pamela. "Well," she said, "I guess we're together."
She looked as nervous as I felt as we entered the shower room. I clos-
ed the door behind us, but did not latch it. In a minute there would
be nothing to hide.
The shower room was really just a big double size stall with two shower
heads jutting out from one wall, and a little bench outside the area of
the spray on the opposite wall. The shower room at "The Gilded Grape"
was bigger, and at least had a "modesty panel" between the two heads.
This one had no such amenities, so each one in here was totally exposed
to the gaze of the other. Above the bench was a sign that read:
YOUR BODY IS YOUR INSTRUMENT
TAKE PROPER CARE OF IT
BE PROUD OF IT
TONI
Maybe there was some humor buried in that. It seemed like it was try-
ing to say something about the shower arrangements if nothing else.
Pamela and I gave each other a furtive look, and then changed that to
one of resignation. I took the lead at that point, and tossed my robe
onto the bench. I was totally naked, but still with my penis in its
tuck. Pamela looked slightly puzzled, but tossed her robe onto the
bench as well. We were totally naked, but Pamela looked little differ-
ent from any drag queen that I had ever seen that way. I kept expect-
ing to see a penis pop from its tuck between her legs, but she did not
have one. That was the way that I wanted to be.
"Where's your dick?," Pamela blurted out, and then covered her mouth
with her hand in embarrassment. Her question shocked me at first, but
we would be taking a lot of showers together as this class went on. I
decided it would be better to get this all out of the way now. It
would make things a lot easier in the long run.
I smiled to try to show Pamela that I had taken no offence as I said,
"Oh, it's there all right. I just have it tucked back between my legs,
so that it won't make any unfeminine bulges in my clothes." Pamela
seemed a little surprised at the matter-of-fact way that I had answered
her, so I went on a bit more. "Look," I said as gently as I could, "I
know you are still a little confused. Toni said that she told all the
girls about Patty and I, and you all accept us, but acceptance is not
always understanding. I don't expect that you will ever understand it
all. That really isn't even necessary for you to do, and I am not sure
that I even understand all of it myself, but please try to understand
one thing. I am more a woman with a penis than a man in a dress. The
only thing that is in any way male about me is the fact that I do have
a penis, but if things go right, I'm going to have that changed soon."
Pamela thought for a moment, and then said softly, "Gee, I didn't think
of it that way. I wasn't sure what to think when Toni told me about
it. She was mostly concerned with how things would go in the dressing
room with the nudity, and all that. I'm a sort of a nudist anyway, so
that didn't bother me. I guess that I thought the only possible prob-
lems would be sexual ones."
I shook my head, and said, "No, I have no sexual interest in other wo-
men at all. The only sexual partners I want are men." "Then you're
Gay?," Pamela asked. "Well," I replied, "most people might say so bas-
ed on my biological gender, but it I'm psychologically a woman in every
other way, isn't it a natural thing for me to like men?" Pamela nod-
ded. "I guess so," she said.
"Let me prove it once and for all, okay?," I said. Pamela agreed, and
I spread my legs to free my penis from its tuck. It was flaccid, so it
came out slowly, and just hung limply over my scrotum. Pamela looked
at it, but seemed unsure of what to say or do. "See," I said with a
girlish giggle. "It's soft. If there were going to be any sexual pro-
blems, wouldn't I have a hardon right about now?"
Pamela was speechless at first. She just sort of stared at my little
soft penis for a while. Then looked me in the eye, and said with her
own nervous sort of giggle, "Well, now I'm really confused. I'm glad
your not aroused by being here naked with me because as a man you don't
turn me on, and I'm not sexually into women, but I'm a little insulted,
on the other hand, that I don't turn on every person that I meet." We
both looked at each other, and broke down into a fit of laughter. "You
turn me on as a friend," I said at last. "That's fine with me too,
girlfriend," said Pamela. We did our shower as friends, and I liked it
that way. We had come to more understanding than we knew.
Pamela had to go home right after the shower, so I waited around for
Patty to finish her's. Patty lived a few blocks away from where I did,
so we walked home together. We were both too tired to go to "The Gil-
ded Grape" that after class, but we talked about doing the show there
tomorrow night. I also told her about Peter meeting me there for a
drink. She said that she thought she had seen him around the bar a
couple of times, but not very regularly. We got to her house first, so
I walked on home alone.
The walk was not very far. The direct route from the "Stage Door Dance
Academy" to my house was only about four blocks, but walking Patty home
had added a two block detour to that. I was home in a jiffy. I called
Edith when I got home, and we chatted about dance class and the show.
Sometimes a girl just wants to talk to her mother. I went to bed at
eleven o'clock. Margo did not come home until three in the morning.
She had turned four tricks that night.
I slept late that Saturday morning, so that I would be rested for the
show that night. Amateur production or not, this would be my debut on
stage, and I wanted everything to be just right. I was also looking
forward to seeing Peter again. I really liked him, and I wanted him to
like me too.
I did some dance exercises around the house most of the day to limber
up. Tina said that she wanted us there by 6:00PM to get ready for the
show, so I had some time to kill. Margo dragged herself out of bed at
about one o'clock, and sat in the living room watching me while smoking
cigarettes and drinking coffee to try to relieve her hangover. She
told me jokingly that watching me made her tired, but added that I
should, "...dance well tonight. The better you look up there on stage,
the hornyer the guys in the audience will be, and the more tricks I can
turn." Margo was saving to buy a color television. She needed the
cash.
I finally quit exercising at about three o'clock, and took a shower. I
would have liked to indulge myself in a bubble bath to be soft and
perfumed for Peter, but that would just be a waste with all the exer-
tions coming up in the show. I had a little something to eat with Mar-
go afterward, and then made ready to dress for the evening.
I decided to go to "The Gilded Grape" in casual clothes, but take a
nice dress along for Peter to walk me home in. I have always been par-
tial to clingy knit jersey sheaths, so I carefully folded my kelly gre-
en one with the high draped neckline in front, and not much of a back
into my dance bag. I also put in a green satin slip, bra, garter-belt,
and panties set to go with the dress. I did want for Peter to take me
out on a real date before I let him get me into bed, but I also wanted
all of my clothes to be as sexy as they could be just in case the tem-
ptation was too great later. Always be prepared.
I put on an everyday bra and panties, and covered these with a cable
knit sliver-grey sweater top, and a skirt made of blue denim. It came
to an inch above the top of my knee, and I really liked the whistles I
got when I set my legs off with sheer stockings, and grey pumps to mat-
ch the sweater. I tossed all the rest of my stuff in the bag, and went
to the apartment door to leave.
Margo had gotten dressed too, and was waiting by the door to walk to
the club with me. We talked quite a bit for the short distance from
our house to "The Gilded Grape". We did not get much chance to do that
even though we shared the apartment. My schedule and her drinking pre-
vented us from seeing all that much of each other when we were both
sober and lucid. We needed more time together.
We got to "The Gilded Grape" around 5:30PM. Margo headed straight for
the bar, and ordered a drink. I told her that I was not drinking until
after the show, and headed to the dressing room to put my dance bag in
my locker.
I returned to the bar, and talked to Margo a bit more. She and I were
still good friends as well as roommates even if her drinking was a lit-
tle difficult to take. I honestly wanted to help her, but I do not
think that she recognized that it was a problem at all. I did not know
it then, but we would both have to face up to her problem in future.
Not tonight, though. This was not a night for confrontation.
"Well, I see you made it in plenty of time," came a voice from behind
me. It was the ubiquitous Billie starting her job of shepherding us
around for Tina. Billie was another one who seemed to live at "The
Gilded Grape" all the time. I never saw her anywhere else, and she was
always somewhere about whenever I was in the club. I wondered where
she really lived, and how she lived. Just feminine curiosity, I guess.
Tina appeared at precisely 6:00PM, sharp. She made a regal sort of
entrance in a full-length cocktail dress covered in blue and green
sequins, and a sliver fox jacket. She walked slowly, but deliberately
to the back of the club, and into the corridor leading to the dressing
room. "Come along, Bobbi," was all she said as she passed me. She did
the same with the other "G.G.Girls" who were sitting in various places
around the club. We all dutifully followed her. She was the boss, and
we knew it.
When we were all in the dressing room Tina spoke, "The show tonight is
a simple one for us, but that doesn't make it any less important to do
our best. You'll find your costumes in the boxes over by the door.
Your name will be on your box. The basic leotard will work for the
whole show, but you'll find two headpieces and a cape in there too.
The small tiara headpiece is for the kick line numbers. The big one
with the feathers and the cape are for the show girl stuff to back up
Janet's songs. Janet, you'll have to change out of your leotard into
your dress for that one. All right?" Janet nodded her understanding.
"All right now, ladies!," Tina commanded. "We have an hour and a half
to get ready. I want an hour before the first show to do a dress run-
through of all of it. We are going to have two guest girls in here
with us from the other acts, so make them welcome. Lets get to it!"
We all got our costume boxes. Inside was a leotard covered in spark-
ling blue and green sequins just like Tina's dress. The leotard had a
neckline that connected to a wide choker collar, but no back from the
shoulders to the waist, and no sleeves. It did have a built in padded
push-up bra, and I was pleased with that. It gave me a very nice bust-
line. The small headpiece was actually a rhinestone tiara, but the
large one was straight out of Las Vegas. It was over a foot high, and
almost two feet wide, and all blue and green peacock feathers. The
cape was just plain aqua satin, but with a high flared collar.
There was no striptease or joking in the dressing room tonight. We
could have all the fun we wanted at rehearsals, but this was business.
It was not all that different from a professional show. People came to
"The Gilded Grape" to see the show, and that meant money to Gerry, the
owner. We did a lot of work for no pay to put the show on, but we got
the fun of doing it, and some professional exposure. All of us had
eyes on some kind of an entertainment career, and drag bar or not,
there were professionals in that audience who could help. One of the
"Rockettes" was actually a sex-change who got her start, and was dis-
covered as one of the "G.G.Girls"!
We were all in costume soon enough, and Tina showed us the way she wan-
ted us to walk in the show girl numbers to back up Janet's songs, and
for one of the other acts. It just consisted of spreading the cape,
and holding it up with our outspread arms as if it were wings while we
walked from pose to pose with a pretty smile pasted on our faces. Tina
was very concerned that we do it exactly right.
About ten minutes before the show I managed to slip away for a peek at
the audience. As he had promised, Peter was there sitting at a table
near the front. I wanted to do my best more than ever now. He could
have just sat at the bar, or stood in the back. "The Gilded Grape"
charged a five dollar cover per show to sit at one of the tables around
the stage while the show was going on. Peter's table was marked "Pri-
vate", so that meant that he had paid twenty dollars for a private tab-
le. The card on the table also showed that he had it as his private
table for the whole evening. This was 1966, so forty dollars was quite
a bit to spend to see the same drag show twice. He really did want to
see me!
We were all lined up behind the curtain in kick line order when at ex-
actly nine o'clock Tina, in her role as Mistress of Ceremonies, stepped
onto the stage as the house lights dimmed, and the stage lights came up
to start the show. I heard her give a brief synopsis of the acts, and
then raise her voice to say, "...and the fabulous G.G.Girls!" The cur-
tain parted, and we launched into a high-kick chorus line number to
start the show. My stage debut had begun!
The number lasted only a few minutes, and we parted the line in the
middle to dance off into the wings as the next act, a comedy troupe of
three Gay male acrobats, came out from backstage between us. We went
to the dressing room to change to our show girl costumes.
"Did your boyfriend show up?," asked Patty as we sat on the dressing
bench to catch our breath. "Yes," I answered, "he's here! He's at a
table alone on the right." Patty lit a cigarette, and took a deep
puff. "I thought that was him," she said. "He's cute! Treat him
nice, or I just might try to steal him away from you," she added with a
laugh.
We did our show girl numbers to back up one of the other acts, and
Janet's songs which went over very well. During the songs I noticed
that Margo had now joined Peter at his table, and I wondered what that
was all about. One more costume change, and we were back on stage as a
chorus line for the high-kick finale of the show. We had an hour and a
half between shows, so I stripped off my leotard, and borrowed a plain
blue shirtdress from Billie to go out and see Peter.
"Hello!," said Peter standing to greet me as I approached his table.
"You looked wonderful on stage!," he added as I kissed him in greeting,
and we sat down. "Yes," said Margo. "I don't usually watch the shows,
but I just couldn't miss your first one. I thought I recognized Peter
here, and he was kind enough to ask me to join him for a cocktail."
The comments sounded innocent enough, but it bothered me to have Margo
sitting here with Peter. She was always trying to find ways to get in-
volved in whatever I was doing especially if it involved men. At first
it was just a sort of "big sister" sort of thing, but it was already
starting to change into something else. Margo was getting jealous of
me. She saw me becoming the woman that she had wanted to be, but never
had. It was her drinking and prostitution that had kept her from it,
but she could not see that. It depressed her, and that made her drink
all the more. It was a vicious circle.
I had a soda with them, and we talked for a while. Peter kept compli-
menting me on how nice I looked, and how well I had performed on stage.
Margo kept telling him how she had got me started, and what good
friends we were. What she said was all basically true, but the way she
said it made it appear that she had done it all, and I had little part
in it. It was embarrassing, but soon I had to get ready for the second
show. I excused myself, and went backstage.
"How did it go?," asked Patty as I took off the dress, and got back in-
to costume. I sighed, and said, "About as well as it could with Margo
buzzing around like the queen of the hive." Patty nodded, and said, "I
saw some of that. Maybe I can help you after the show. Two of my reg-
ular johns are here. I'll try to get her onto one of them, so you can
have some time with your boyfriend." That made me feel a lot better.
It also made me feel good that Patty would talk so openly about her
prostitution with me. We all did it, but only real friends talked
about it openly that way. I liked being Patty's friend.
The second show went just like the first except that there was a bigger
audience. This was normal. Most of the people who frequented "The
Gilded Grape" did not come out until about ten o'clock. Margo spent
the whole show glued to Peter's table. Why did she have to pull this
stunt tonight of all nights?!
The second show was over at 12:30AM, and we all slumped back into the
dressing room. We were tired. It had been a long day for all of us,
and the lateness of the hour did not help either. Dancing is a very
tiring thing. I would have liked to have just gone home to bed, but I
had a date. That gave me a second wind. This was one date that I wan-
ted to keep!
I stripped off all of my clothes, and even took my penis out of its
tuck. All the exertion had made me rather hot and sweaty, and the cool
air all over my body made me feel better. I was still nude when Patty
arrived.
"Well," she said, "but don't we look all hot and sexy! I hope Peter
appreciates what he is getting when he gets your little ass in bed
later." I still was not sure if Peter was going to be getting me in
bed, but I took what Patty said as a strange sort of compliment. "I
fixed it up with one of my johns," Patty continued. "I told him that I
was busy, but that I would fix him up with Margo after I changed. You
own me one."
I thanked Patty with a hug, and put on my robe. It was time for our
shower, so we went into the shower room. We did not talk much while we
showered. As we were leaving, Patty said, "I'll go out first, and take
care of Margo. Give me about ten minutes before you come out." That
was not a problem. I wanted to take my time dressing up for Peter.
Patty dressed quickly, and was gone. The others were done too, so in a
minute I was alone except for Billie who was puttering about putting
the costumes away. I took out my green jersey dress, and got ready to
see Peter. I decided to leave my canvas bag in my locker, and pick it
up tomorrow.
I was just folding my lace shawl over my arm when Tina came in. "My,
but don't we look sexy!," she purred in a catty sort of way. "I'll bet
you have a date with that stud that's been talking to Margo out front.
Well, just save some of that sweet ass of your's for me!" She winked
at me, and left. I wondered how she knew about my date with Peter, but
the gossip flowed like water in "The Gilded Grape" all the time, and I
guessed that the story of Peter and I was all over the place by then.
She was also telling me that she wanted me in bed again too at some
point. That was all right, but not tonight!
I stepped out into the bar, and looked over at Peter's table. Patty
was over there, and she and Margo were talking. They left Peter alone
at the table, and went over to two guys standing against the wall.
Patty had come through. I did owe her one now.
"Well, hello!," Peter said greeting me for the second time that night,
but with a big smile now. I sat down at the table, and ordered a
drink. No soda this time. Work was over, and I wanted to have some
fun. Peter and I talked happily until two o'clock in the morning. By
then I was just too tired to go on, so Peter suggested that he walk me
home.
We talked more all the time we walked. I took his arm, and held it
tightly. I do not know if Peter knew it then, but I was falling for
him. All he had to do was ask, and I would have done absolutely any-
thing he wanted me to.
Peter took me all the way to the door of my apartment. I demurely took
out my keys, and handed them to him. He unlocked the door, and pushed
it open. I stepped into the doorway, and looked up at him. He took me
in his arms at last, and kissed me deeply. I melted to him, and felt
my penis stiffen back in my crotch. I pressed my thigh against him,
and felt that his cock was also hard. It felt good pressing against me
that way. I wanted it pressing into me in another way too!
Peter broke the kiss, and said, "No, not tonight. I want everything to
be just right for us when it does happen." I was a little surprised,
but I was happy too. I was glad that he saw me as more than just an
easy piece of ass. I had fallen in love with Peter, and I wanted it
all to be right too.
Peter kissed me once more, and then left promising to call me tomorrow.
I went in, and straight to bed. All I could think of was Peter.
Margo came in at about 5:00AM. She and Patty had done a foursome with
the two guys at Patty's apartment, and she had made one hundred dol-
lars. Margo had her television set, and I had fallen in love. Not a
bad night all things considered.
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