CATCH HER IN DISGUISE

This is a follow-up story to Catch Her. William loses his
job. He discovers that he can make a lot of money at a strip
club, but he has to dress as a waitress in a French maid
outfit. Fortunately, he has the necessary physical
attributes. Or will someone see through the disguise?
Originally posted in the summer of 2003 on Fictionmania.

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!" Studlater complained. His
6' 3" frame slumped back into the hard wooden chair.

"Offer her more!" suggested Paul.

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

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

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?" Damian yelled, 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!" Studlater growled. "She just wants
you for your money."

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

"No way!" Studlater replied.

"Yes way," Mike said. "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!" Studlater yelled. "She almost ignored
you."

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

"Yeah, right," Studlater said. "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," Paul added, 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 Levis, 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," a stunned Studlater mumbled.

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.

It 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. Time to shit or get
off the pot. 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," Mike
said 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."

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!" Paul warned.

"Sorry," Mike mumbled.

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," Damian 'The Omen' Stoddard said.

"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," Paul complained.

"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," Paul
said, "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, poor slobs
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," Pete said, 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," Pete called out.

"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
degenerate 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 make that much."

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

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

4

"Relax Hold'em," Allison said soothingly. It's not the end
of the world. All students wind 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
god forsaken 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?" Allison asked.

"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," Allison replied. "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."

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 caterpillar 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.

I was such a goddam phony.

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!" Allison gushed. "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," Harry Thomas said.

"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," Allison said, 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," Allison murmured.

"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.

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
didn't 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 phony girl at the Lad and Hooker 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!" Allie said. 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."

Jesus H. Christ! 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 goddam 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
goddam 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," Sinead said. "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," Paul announced.

"Beer, beer and more beer," Damian added, 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," Studlater said. 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. What a skank! 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," Damian said. "Paul just got
notice that he's been hired by Dell Computers this summer."

"Now you really are a Laptop, PC," Studlater added, 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," Mike said 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
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!" Alice sang.
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 half-whitted 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," Studlater begged.

"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. He was such a phony.

"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!" Studlater whispered. 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