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The man was tall, well-built and several years older than me so when he walked up and asked me if I wanted a lift when I was leaving work that afternoon I was immediately suspicious and pigeon-holed him as a poof. There were no stand-out clues, like a lisp or any mincing in the way he walked, in fact his appearance was totally masculine. It was just a general impression, a gut feel; maybe the way he looked at me, but I could not think of any other reason why he would offer to give me a lift out of the blue like that. It wasn't as if we knew each other.
Still, convinced that I could handle it, I accepted the offer. Stupid, you’ll say, getting into a car with a large, unknown stranger, but at that age you have all the answers and you’re invincible. He asked me where I wanted to go and I told him my address. Mistake number two? However he said that was fine as he lived one street away. What a coincidence! It was only a fifteen minute drive and he didn’t make any moves on me. We chatted about seemingly inconsequential things like how long I had been working there and the state of football.
When he dropped me off he asked if I would like to go for a coffee on Saturday. Secure in my teenage arrogance and somewhat curious about queers I agreed but said I would meet him at the coffee-bar at 11 a.m. rather than having him pick me up.
So Saturday duly arrived and I met him as arranged. We had a couple of cups of coffee in a popular down-town coffee-bar and chatted about everything and nothing, until a group of very attractive girls went by and I drew his attention to how sexy they looked
.
“I’m not really into girls,” he said.
“I guessed as much.” I was smugly satisfied that I had clocked him.
A bit of a silence followed that little exchange. I didn’t know what to say when he’d basically laid his cards on the table. Still, he seemed like a nice man…an honest man in his way.
“You’ve never met anyone like me before, have you?” he asked me.
“No,” I admitted, my sophistication disappearing fast.
“Do I frighten you?”
“No way!” indignantly.
“Do you find me attractive?”
“How do you mean? Do I fancy you? I don’t think so. You’re a nice guy, but…”
“You’ve never thought about whether you could fancy a man before, have you?”
“No, I haven’t.” I think I probably blushed like a fire-engine.
He patted my hand and said, “Relax. I won’t bite you. How old are you, sixteen?”
“Seventeen,” I lied, as teenagers do. When you’re that age you’re sensitive about it.
He looked at me, smiling a little. Nowadays I would call it “knowing”.
“So why are you here? Why did you agree to meet me?”
“I guess I was curious, and I didn’t think I could get into trouble over a cup of coffee.”
“Well, what exactly are you curious about. Do you think guys like me are some kind of monster?”
“No! No, it’s not that. I…I wondered what you do and how you feel about…you know…things.”
“Actually we’re mostly pretty ordinary. It’s just that we’re attracted to other men rather than girls.”
Emboldened and a bit cheeky, I asked him, “Are you attracted to me then?”
“Yes. You’re a very good-looking boy, and I sensed something a bit different about you, so I thought I would try to pick you up.”
Confused, I once more blushed like crazy. The “something different” could have been my deep, dark secret, but how could he know?
Nobody knew.
“I’m not gay,” I protested.
“Are you sure? I didn’t know I was when I was your age. I didn’t know what I was.”
“How did you find out, then?”
“I went into the Army to do my National Service and an officer seduced me. After a few drinks I woke up in bed with him and all of a sudden it seemed right. Then he introduced me to some of his friends and I’ve never looked back. I’d never been interested in men or girls before and I found that I liked men much better.”
“I’ve had girlfriends,” I blustered.
He laughed.
“It’s not forbidden. Lots of people swing both ways, but have a preference. I can show you people that you would never suspect were gay, men who are married with kids but live double lives.”
“Really?”
“If you’re interested. But look, you might find out more than you bargained for.”
“How do you mean?”
“They’re not all nice people, and once you start doing “the scene” you’ll attract attention and could become a target for predators.”
I was sixteen. Did I say that already?
“I can take care of myself, and, besides, I’ll be with you, won’t I?”
“You would have to make out you were my special friend, but I’ll show you round if you want to.”
Suspicion reared its head.
“Why would you do that for me?”
He shrugged.
“I hope you’ll find that you really like me, but I promise I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do. If you don’t like what you see, just tell me and we’ll stop and I’ll leave you alone.”
I couldn’t refuse a challenge like that.
“OK, you’re on. When do we start?”
“What are you doing this evening?”
“Not much.”
“OK. Dress smartly and I’ll meet you here at seven. I’ll take you to a pub which you might find a bit different.”
And so it came to pass.
I haven’t given you any personal details, but so you can get the picture…….his name was Steven and he said he was 27 and worked as a stockbroker. He certainly didn’t fit my image of a gay man; I’d always thought of them as effeminate…..like Mr. Humphreys in “Are You Being Served?” He was 6’2” and very fit-looking and told me he played rugby. He even had a broken nose. His car was a Rover so he obviously wasn’t poor. I couldn’t exactly pinpoint what it was that marked him as queer.
I’m Jack. You know my age. I’m 5’9”, hair a sort of mousy blond and touching my collar and skinny as hell. I had left school a few months before and got a job serving behind a counter in Marks & Spencer, which was only meant to bring in some money until I found something better. That must have been where he had seen me. I still lived at home but had promised myself I would move out as soon as I could, because my parents were driving me mad and probably vice versa.
I admit that I did sometimes wonder if I actually was gay, because I had this dreadful, shameful, guilty compulsion to dress in my mother’s clothes whenever I could, but I had never fancied men in any sexual way. In fact I was entranced by girls and jealous of how good they could make themselves look, so I didn’t think that was the source of my oddity. I just knew I was some kind of freak.
He took me to a pub called The Montpelier Arms in one of the upmarket areas of town…..a place I would not have dreamed of going to because it was way out of my price range and as far as I knew was frequented by toffs, not my kind of place at all. Also I had to be selective about where I drank because I was still under-age and it was so embarrassing to be refused service and asked to leave.
We entered the saloon bar, and at 7.30 on a Saturday evening it was about half-full. He steered me to a vacant table and I looked around while he went to get a couple of pints of bitter from the bar. I immediately became conscious that I was easily the youngest person in the place and the other clientele were all male.
Although nobody seemed to be looking at me I felt as if I was being stripped naked by a thousand eyes. I had a sudden realisation that this was how a pretty girl felt when she walked into a roomful of men.
Just then Steven returned with our drinks and took a seat, choosing to sit next to me rather than across the table. The pressure of the unseen eyes lessened immediately.
“Well, did you feel it?” he asked.
I took a swig of my beer to give myself a chance to recover.
“Yes. What happened exactly?”
“You were being sized up. If I hadn’t been here you would have somebody trying to chat you up in short order.”
“But how do they do it? How do they know?”
“Any young man who comes in here on his own is assumed to be looking to be picked up. They weren’t sure about you, so they were sort of sniffing around. When I came back with the drinks they assumed that you’re my “girlfriend” and eased off.”
“Shit! It’s a bit scary.”
“Welcome to my world. I did warn you that you might get a bit more than you bargained for. Still, don’t worry. They’ll leave you alone now, but if you come in here again without me, you’ll be fair game. Anyway, do you recognise anyone? Look around, but don’t be obvious about it.”
I surreptitiously looked around, using my peripheral vision and reflections in wall-hung mirrors to do it.
“The man sitting at that table just to the right of the bar looks very familiar.”
“Well spotted. That’s Sir John Fields, the famous actor. You probably saw him doing that TV series about Richard The Lionheart.”
“He looks much older than he did on the TV. But isn’t he married to Samantha Jones?”
“Make-up, Jack....make-up. He’s about sixty. Yes, he’s married to Samantha, but she swings to her own tune too, I hear. It suits them both to have cover for their extra-curricular activities; keeps the likes of The News Of The World off of their backs. He likes young men…..not like you……you’re far too pretty and skinny. He likes beefy rough-trade to fuck him, the rugged type like me, but he usually has to get rent-boys to do it, because the good-looking ones aren’t attracted to a raddled old queen like him.”
“Rent boys?”
He laughed.
“Ah, Jack, you are so green! Male prostitutes to you.”
“Would you go with him, then?”
“No way! I don’t fancy him at all and I don’t sell myself. It’s not all sex, you know. I have to like the guy I’m going with. We fall in love just like straight people do. Take you. You’re surprisingly good company and it does make me feel good just to be seen around with you. Think of yourself as eye-candy. You like to be seen with a gorgeous girl and I like to be seen with a gorgeous boy, but if I got you into bed, I’d want you to suck my cock and then I would make love to you. How about another drink?”
I nodded dumbly, not knowing how to reply to that, and he got up to go to the bar. That gave me time to pull myself together. He was right; there was such a thing as too much information.
However, when he came back we didn’t resume that conversation. Instead, he directed my attention to various men around the room and proceeded to dish the dirt on them. This one was a Member of Parliament, with a society wife and three children. That one was a Church of England bishop in plain clothes. Over there was a well-known author who wrote spy thrillers. I had actually read most of his books.
It seemed that half the men in that bar were famous or well-connected and they were all "gay",as they called themselves. Doctors, lawyers, teachers, even policemen; the list went on and on. My view of society was changed forever and I almost started to see queers hiding under my bed. I was suspicious of every man I passed in the street for the next few days, especially if they seemed to be taking any notice of me.
The following week he took me to a club frequented by a completely different crowd. Here they were all twenty-somethings and as loud and boisterous as could be. They were flamboyant, effeminate, limp-wristed and some were outrageously dressed, tossing around “Dahlings” and kissing openly….much more in line with my preconceptions. They eyed me like some kind of strange animal but left me alone. Even the barmen and waiters were terribly swish. Steven dismissed them all as ravers and said they were the ones who gave queerdom a bad name, flaunting themselves in the faces of the “normal” majority. The heirs of Oscar Wilde he called them, not his type at all.
After a couple of drinks we left and went to an ordinary pub. I thought it was quite hilarious that he could not stomach those examples of his own kind, but then I sort of empathised with him. How would I feel if I was surrounded by yobs? He was basically an average bloke who just happened to like other men. In fact he was a kind and sensitive guy who was going out of his way for me. OK, maybe he had an ulterior motive but he wasn’t pushing it. The rest of the evening he was quite subdued, but told me he would really open my eyes next weekend. And open my eyes he did….perhaps wider than he ever intended, or I ever expected.
We went to another club and at first I couldn’t understand what he had taken me to. The place was about equally populated with men and girls. There was a woman singing on the stage, doing a very creditable rendition of “These Boots Are Made For Walking” and sounding very much like Nancy Sinatra; all the waitresses were in sexy uniforms and there were maybe twenty or thirty very pretty girls dressed to kill sitting around chatting to each other or to men at the tables or at the bar.
“I thought you were taking me to another gay bar.” I said to Steven.
“I am.” He gave me an evil grin.
“But what are all these girls doing in here? And they’re all so good-looking.”
Steven laughed.
“They’re all boys.”
My jaw had fallen halfway to the floor when a waitress stopped at our table.
“What can I get you gentlemen to drink?” In a husky tenor.
“Pint of bitter?” Steven asked me.
Totally gobsmacked I just nodded. My mind was in turmoil. He couldn’t be right.
“Two pints of bitter, love.”
“OK, Steven. Be right back.”
“You know her?”
“Him. I introduced him to this place, worse luck.”
“Him? You have to be joking.”
The girl was wearing a low-cut dress with a plunging neckline showing lots of cleavage, a short skirt, seamed stockings, high heels and was Marilyn Monroe beautiful down to the platinum-blonde hair.
“His name is….was….David, but I don’t recommend you call her that now. She goes by Celestine these days.”
I could hardly speak. It hit me like a seven pound sledgehammer. I wasn’t alone any more! Here were all these boys doing what I had thought branded me as a freak. I wanted with every fibre of my being to join them. I wasn’t alone any more!
“You mean she lives as a girl?”
“I think nearly all of them here do. You can ask them if you like.”
“But what about the singer? She has a beautiful voice. ”
“Keira? Well she should too….she’s lip-synching, although her speaking voice is such that you wouldn't know. Yeah. She’s a boy….or man now...she’s my age. Although she’s probably ninety-nine percent of the way to becoming a girl.”
My head was still in a whirl as I tried to grapple with this situation.
“What do you mean….ninety-nine percent of the way to being a girl?”
“Well, I’m pretty sure that she and most of the other girls are on hormones but this is a gay club, so there’s a rule that they still have to have dicks, otherwise they’d lose their customers.”
“Customers?” I guess I was being dense.
He waved around at the men in the place.
“These are all guys who like chicks with dicks. They like to be sucked by girls who are not 100% girls. If they wanted genuine girls they would go somewhere else.”
I was trying to absorb all of this, while my mind was screaming at me that I wanted to be a girl like them. I didn’t care about the implications of the setting; I wanted to be as pretty as them and dressed like them….among people like myself.
“You seem to know some of them. Do you come here often?”
“No, I don’t. I’ve told you I’m not into girls….not even girls like these, but a couple of the boys I’ve picked up in the past have decided that they like this life and I met Keira when I was in the Army. We’re friends.”
Keira had finished singing and Steven waved at her. She waved back and headed for our table, smiling at him as she approached. She bent and kissed him on the cheek when she arrived, giving me what I can only describe as a speculative look.
“Hi, stranger; long time no see. Who’s your friend?”
She swept her skirt under her as she sat and signalled the waitress at the same time. She was a stunning redhead, if a little heavily made-up. She smiled at me and extended her hand.
“Seeing Steven seems reluctant to introduce us, I’m Keira.”
“Jack. Pleased to meet you, Keira.” I stammered out.
The waitress brought her drink just then and she smiled her thanks at the girl.
Steven managed to get a word in edgeways.
“Keira, I’m just showing Jack around. Don’t jump to any conclusions.”
“You always did like fresh meat, Steve. Has he been nice to you, Jack? What do you think of my place? I bet he hasn’t told you I’m the owner.”
I didn’t know which question to answer.
“Wow! You own it? I think it’s fabulous.”
She eyed me shrewdly. Her gaze seemed to pierce me to my very soul.
“I think you’re very interested, aren’t you? Would you like to come back again?”
“Keira! Leave him alone! I only brought him here so that he knows all the wrinkles in the scene.”
She patted him on the hand.
“Sometimes you’re awfully dense, Steve dear. I think you’ve just introduced me to my latest recruit. What do you say, Jack? Although we’ll have to find a better name for you than that.”
She knew! She COULD see into my soul. I didn’t know whether to deny it or admit it, but something told me that this was make-or-break time. I nodded “Yes” and she reached over and patted me on the cheek.
“It’s OK, dear. We’ll look after you. I think Violet will be a nice name for you. What do you say?”
I was mesmerised, but managed to whisper “Yes.”
“ Keira, leave the boy alone.”
“She’s not a boy, Steven. Are you, Violet?”
Steven got up in a huff. “You’re too bloody queer for me!” And stormed out.
Two weeks later I began my new job.
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Comments
People like me...
...the context; the form; the fashion? All important, but not nearly as important as belonging, aye? Too bloody queer, indeed!
Love, Andrea Lena
Before The Internet
Unless you lived in one of the metropolises, like New York or London, as a young person you were unlikely to know anything about "transgenderism", which was a word which hadn't even been coined. You might think you knew something about queers, but that would have been heavily filtered through the prejudices of the day.
That discovery that you were not alone...that others were freaks like you....that was a real epiphany,
Joanne
Wonderful tale
I have to admit that the opening paragraphs had me in a bit of a huff. I was thinking, "Oh you stupid kid. Are you too full of yourself to see that he's a predator?" But I had faith in you Joanne. I didn't think you'd lead us down that dark path, and I was right; the ending left me with a smile. Thanks!
.
.
The girl in me. She's always there,
often reevaluating her misspent youth.
Steven Was A Predator
But he was a nice, civilised, very ENGLISH predator! So you were right, Lora,
Joanne
I've known guys like Steve...
Though they never knew the Jack in me.
One would always introduce me: This is Ole, my straight friend. And I'd think: My God! Not the only one, I hope. I just liked people straight, gay, lesbian, trans. and could never see a reason to distinguish. But there were some who would have said just that: Too queer! I just didn't get it.
A wonderful and clever story about the foibles of some who would demand society's understanding of them.
Ole
We are each exactly as God made us. God does not make mistakes!
Gender rights are the new civil rights!
One Track Mind
Steven was looking for love and sex and didn't see beyond the obvious attractiveness of Jack. I was never introduced as my "straight" friend, because he didn't want me to be straight,
Joanne
interesting subject and well written
Some times a story need to be written .. If only to get what the AUTHOR want to convey to the reading weirdos like us what is in your mind...
All kind stories bring more knollage .. Your writing is very good the story line is very good ... A follow up chapter is in order to follow the hero
and see what you can dream up to make it interesting ...THANK YOU A GOOD AUTHOR....Ronewelles
Please Allow Me To Preen
Thankyou for the comment. Yes, I may do a sequel....if my capricious muse lets me,
Joanne
Wow!
I like it! Since it isn't the first time it happened, perhaps Steven is more attracted to guys like that than he thinks. I wish I had met someone like Steven when I was young. It would have opened my eyes to a world I didn't really know about until I was much older.
Very well written. I felt as though I was riding along, seeing the things he saw, and that's one of the reasons I love reading a good story. They take me to places I've never been, but might be cuious about. Thanks, it was fun!
Wren
You May Well Be Right
I saw Steven on a couple of occasions after the time of this story and he was with slender young teenagers similar to myself,
Joanne
Queer!
Wonder how far she will go? Will she choose to live as a woman, become a woman? Whatever her choice, she has foun herself.
May Your Light Forever Shine
That Would Be Telling!
Although I did think the conclusion was self-evident,
Joanne
Nice People
You're a natural storyteller. Nice people in a nice stort. Very enjoyable.
Well Done.
Jill M I
Angela Rasch
Angela Rasch (Jill M I)
I'm Blushing
I've always been a blusher, and I'm no good at poker!
Thankyou Jill,
Joanne
The word
Queer, when I was sixteen was bandied about but the word trans was not and that put people like us on the outer and very much alone, at least Queers had a network that they belonged to something that didn't happen for trans folk till much later, thank god the world has changed enough to allow transgendred people to have support these days. thanks for this story Joanne.
Hugs Ronnie:)
ROO
I've Used The Word "Gay"
But, like you Ronnie, I don't think it was generally used for that group then. It still meant "happy and carefree".
The terms then were nastier, like "poofter" and "shirt-lifter" and "cock-sucker", but they definitely had networks,
Joanne
“You’re too bloody queer for me!â€
Poor Steven. But I think Violet is going to be better for it.
Very nice story.
I Tried To Show
That there are different degrees and different tastes amongst the gay, just as there are with us...a whole spectrum from cross-dressing to girly-girl.
Violet was definitely not what Steven wanted,
Joanne
So many routes.
There are just so many routes to coming to terms with our transgenderism. Those routes are in some part determined by the extent and nature of our transgenderism or in some rare cases, (like mine) our intergenderism. This story so poingnantly illustrates a typical route that we can come by our self discovery. The general picture coupled with all those personal details give it a wonderful clarity and colour.
I think we all remember our first times for each and every tiny, individual, incremental advancement as we grow up exploring our natures.
This story so beautifully illustrates a couple of the more imprtant steps we all take. The first meeting, the first bar and all importantly the first realisation that we are not alone.
Oh bliss it is when time comes what joy and what relief.
Thanks.
Bev.
XZXX
I "Blame" You, Bev!
It was actually your descriptions of gay clubs that awoke these long-dormant memories in me of what "the Scene" was like in days of yore, and how they pigeon-holed themselves.
I wouldn't dare to categorise you. We are each at our own point on the Bell curve, but I love your new pic...outrageous and with the "shopping gene" trope. You go, girl,
Joanne
Infrequent authors
They catch my eye, certain of those I see too rarely. Kristina, Laika, Joanne...
Thanks, mate. Enjoyed that.
Unfortunately Steph
I don't have a head chock-full of stories like you and Angharad. I grovel at your ability to produce multiple stories day after day, but occasionally my muse takes a baseball bat to the side of my head and says "WRITE" and who am I to argue?
Glad you liked it,
Joanne
Not an ability
It's a need.
Your Need
Is a gift to us....and I feel guilty for not mentioning 'Drea too,
Joanne
Queer, quirky & delightful
Charming story, a real-lifeish anecdote more than something with a clever plot, but carried forward nicely by the undercurrent of suspense, the progressive denouments, right to the laugh-out-loud punchline, Steven not really a misogynist but perplexed by why anyone would want to be a girl, and probably taken aback by what he saw as a waste of young male tail. Still a nice man to have met, nothing sinister about him, not manipulative or deceitful buy straightforward in his intentions; So maybe a "predator" (see comments above) in the small-p sense of a guy prowling for a suitable person to fuck- but not in the evil, criminal sense ...... Nice details about the setting and the era and the "feel" of those times. I loved Violet's awakening at the end---a sudden awakening of undreamt of hopes and possibilities---and Keira sounds like a very nice woman, who I would love to hearing more about, and also Violet getting to meet other people like herself. (Why am I shouting in boldface?)
~hugs, Vv
Well shit, I guess it really CAN happen here..,
.
I'll Have To Try
To give Keira and Violet an outing (pun unintentional) of their own. Please, O Powerful Muse, take pity on your servant. Thanks Ronnie,
Joanne
My cousin Amelia...
...when seeing a guy with long hair back in the early seventies said that he was (Italian/Jersey) "Kweah" I would like to see another "Kweah" story, please?
Love, Andrea Lena
Well done Joanne!
Nicely written, yes you could see it coming. However, Steven pretending to be the sophisticated gay exposed his real colours.
Age is an issue of mind over matter.
If you don't mind, it doesn't matter!
(Mark Twain)
LoL
Rita
Thank You Rita
Steven wasn't sophisticated. He was a sterling example of how a male can be totally dense, whatever his sexual orientation!
I'm glad you've changed your Clarence Darrow quotation. I can live with this one without it bringing out my inner pedant,
Joanne
Thank you Joanne,
You captured Jack's awakening so well,that time when he
realized that he was not alone,that there were others like
him in the world.A time of joy!
ALISON
I Know You're Old Enough, Alison
To have experienced that loneliness; to wonder why you were the only one in the whole wide world who felt like this,
Joanne
the heirs of Oscar Wilde
Now that made me smile, great little description. Lovely story and I remember very well the first time I met your actual 'tranny' though I'd known of for some time. Different right there in the flesh at it were. Taa, hon
Kristina
ps Oyy... Bev, close those html whatsits eh. Yeah I know, you can't on this one now.
I Remember You Told Me
It does have an impact, don't it? When for the first time in your life (that you know of) you see a guy dressed as a girl,
Joanne
Joanne! You done it again!
Just when I was wondering where you were leading us, in comes a vision that Jack instantly sees as herself. Violet indeed! A lovely surprise and, as you say, a testament to men being stupid and not seeing what's as plain as the noses on their faces!
Can we read about Violet's next experiences and her relationship with this lovely lady?
Hope so. love Ginger xx
PS - Was this the Montpelier in Cheltenham by any chance?
Never Been To Cheltenham
The pub I named is in Brighton, on the Brighton side of the road that forms the boundary between Brighton and Hove (actually). I don't even know if it still exists, but if it doesn't there will be others like it, particularly since Brighton is now considered to be the gay capital of England.
I guess Steven wasn't unusually dense. He just saw what he wanted to see.
As for further exploration I'm working on it, but that depends on my stubbornly lazy muse. Now I've got to go and read the latest chapters of First Queen, so I have an excuse,
Joanne
If it is Montpelier Road...
The Angel Bar is still going strong.
http://www.brightonlife.com/gay-bars/angel-bar-127024.html
It's The Right Address
But fifty-some years ago it was part of what was then a residential hotel. I don't think the ladies shown in the picture in the link would have been either interested or welcomed. There were no Angel Bars in those days since the activity was still illegal. You could get arrested for even dressing as a woman.
How times change!
Joanne
Jo, love
I will be fifty four next month, so fortunately I did not experience (directly) that nastiness in question. The start of my 'Sweat and Tears', though, that was my life, and I knew far too many 'treated' gay men as per Sid from that story.
Not the best of times.
Nice End
I really like this story. You have a way of holding my interest even though I saw the end coming a mile away. It must be the journey and not the destination. Good job.
Thanks and kudos.
- Terry
Thank You Kind Terry
Glad you liked it. Yes it was a bit light on plot and given where it was posted probably predictable, but I tried to make the ride interesting,
Joanne
sigh
i was almost 30 before i knew that others felt this way.
durn gorilla genes ed
ed
It's A Revelation
Thank you for your comment. There's no Statute of Limitations on posting or receiving comments!
It probably doesn't happen in today's society that you remain in ignorance that there are others like yourself, what with the internet and a much greater degree of openness in movies and TV (that's "television" not "transvestism") but at the time that this story was set it was almost impossible to get any information about our condition. We were freaks on the fringes of society and were illegal in many jurisdictions.
While it's still far from easy being different it is better than it was,
Joanne
Once more into the queerness
When I was looking over your latest I saw the alphabetical arrow link at the bottom to this tale. The title QUEER kind of stood out, but didn't remember it from 2012. A story by you I hadn't read? Inconceivable!
But then I saw I'd left a comment, so I must have. In that comment I said it didn't have a plot but this time when I read it this 4000-word gem had a very clear one; a progression with the inevitability of GOLDILOCKS AND THE THREE BEARS. The first place was too cold, reserved and closeted and stuffy. The next one was too hot; hectic, with dick jokes shrieked across the room in a queeny headache inducing pitch (More like the bars I frequented at 20, really a lot of fun, until it suddenly isn't...). And the third place... Just right. Goldilocks was home at last, without ever having seen any bears; if they even had bears in those days (those lumberjackish gay guys who are into beards and beerbellies and body odor.... ewww!). And again Steven was all right, if a bit unlucky. Next time he looks for a recruit he shouldn't take them to that third place. Since Keira indicated that Violet wasn't the first girl he'd led to her place, he seems to pick guys who aren't guys at all. Now I gotta go read yer new story...
Luv, Honeybunny
Well shit, I guess it really CAN happen here..,
.
We're All Queer
But the definitions these days are becoming very PC, which I find a bit nauseating. Most of us here are trans-gender in one form or another.
My story was set over fifty years ago in an era when the term "transsexual" didn't even exist. What I tried to show was that there are different degrees of "gayness" and that these didn't encompass people like us. Laika got it in one.
We are not gay...we're us.
All of us?
I am Spawtacuth!
I used to read the "News" stories about the transvestite hookers in NYC in the early 60s.I didn't understand at 11 but I felt close to them.
Love, Andrea Lena
Memories.
When I was seventeen going on eighteen my mum and dad dropped me for a summer down in the bayou's of South Louisiana to mature as they said it. Well all I did that summer was shrimp and hang around the French Market and Jackson Square. This story brought to mind those memories of New Orleans as I remember it. The Post Katrina New Orleans, I was just starting to discover myself and questing myself. New Orleans being the city it is, and Louisiana being the state it is, it was easy for an seventeen year old to sneak in a few hidden bars as long as you kept your head down and your did not ask a lot of questions.
Durning that summer, I meet plenty of gentleman like Mr. Steven and plenty of Belle's like Keira and I only wish now that I'd decided to settle on the life. New Orleans has a viberant LGBTQ+ Community and they do a good job in policing themselves and looking after junior members as they call them. Even as the city did it best to recover from shit show Katrina was and the community was but a shadow of it's former self. Thank you, I need that trip down memory lane to help me understand were I came from, and to maybe understand were I'm going with my stories. Thank, you are a treasure to this tiny little community, an island of understanding in the vastness of the internet.
Partly Autobiographical
Steven was real and 16-year-old me was real. The first two bars were real. Where the story departed somewhat from reality was in the third bar. Keira was almost real in that I did meet ladies just like her but it was a little later. The club did not exist at that time and place because it really was illegal, but such haunts became legal only a few years later and my hometown was notorious for such establishments (and is even more so now!).
My life's path was a bit more convoluted than I suggested here. We can all look back and regret how we didn't do it then, when we had the chance, but even now those choices are not easy to make for whatever reasons. Real life does serve up shit sandwiches.
I think you will have no problem in eventually finding your way. Your stories show a deep empathy for the trials and tribulations of the TG community. All I ask is that you continue to post on this site, even if you also post elsewhere. You're our future.