A Hollywood Adventure

It took a while to register what she was feeling. It was pitched dark. The only thing she could see was a single small green dot. Without being able to see anything familiar her whole sense of disorientation was magnified. For a moment she did not know what was up and what was down. Then her other senses started to register.

She heard the light hum of an air conditioning unit. She felt herself to be in a bed with her head on a pillow, her body only partly covered. She smelled nothing. She tasted nothing but her mouth and throat felt dry, really dry. Her gums felt dry. Her tongue felt dry. The inside of her lips felt dry. Her palate felt dry. It was the kind of dry that makes it feel as if the skin lining her mouth had somehow been ripped away exposing raw fresh skin to the air.

“Oh God,” she said to herself with a voice of experience. “I need a drink of water.” She also felt the need to pee. She left the bed and in the darkness headed in the direction she knew her bathroom to be. She hit a wall. She held out her arms. Nothing felt familiar but luckily as she groped along she found a light switch. As the light turned on she found herself in a strange bedroom with the open door to a bathroom in the opposite direction than she had headed.

“Oh yes,” she thought, “now I remember.” She paused before continuing, “Where is he? I hope the bastard didn’t take off with my stuff!” She took a quick look around. It was not just a hotel room. It was a suite, a large suite, more like an apartment with a full kitchen, a second toilet and a Murphy bed in the living room. Someone had used the Murphy bed but it was empty now. He was nowhere to be seen.

Toilet duties and several refreshing glasses of water later she returned to the bed, sat down and then lay down but not before seeing that her purse and wallet were still on the dresser beside the large flat-screen television. Somehow her dress and shoes had made their way in to the closet. In the purse were four $100 bills that had not been there a few hours earlier. “Wow.” she said, again to herself, “did he assume I was a hooker? Is it a trap? Oh well, I’ll worry about that later. I’m going back to sleep.”

“I’m still wearing my make-up,” she muttered as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, “You should never go to bed with your make-up on,” she quoted her late dear mother’s oft-spoken advice. At the time the advice had been aimed at her older and then teenage sister but no matter she had absorbed all advice she heard about female things, from advice on beauty such as ‘sailors don’t make passes at girls who wear glasses’ to chastity ‘no one buys the cow when they can get the milk for free.’ Obviously she had paid no heed to the latter. But even at that young age she wanted to learn all she could about the mysteries of womanhood.

She looked at the clock on the side table. It read 6:30. “Well at least I got a few hours’ sleep,” she thought, “but where is he? I hope he is not stiffing me with the bill for the room. No worries there. The room must be in his name.” Contented that all was well she drifted back to sleep.

It was not a deep sleep as a short while later she heard the sound of the suite’s main door opening. He entered the suite, but not the bedroom. He was as quiet as he could be. He obviously did not want to disturb her. She actually tried not to go back to sleep, hoping he would come in to wake her and she could perform some of her magic on him. She absolutely loved making love to a man first thing in the morning. ‘The morning woody,’ she called it.

When it was clear he was not coming to her she decided to get her make-up and emergency toiletries from her purse and head to the bathroom. It was clearly not the first time she had woken to find herself in a stranger’s bed. After removing the last night’s make-up she stepped in to a warm shower, bringing with her a portable mirror, soap, a face cloth and a device she called her “Schick stick.”

She loved long hot showers. She loved repeatedly soaping and rinsing her genital area. She loved the fresh feeling of her skin after running the ‘Schick stick’ across it to remove any fresh hair growth. She knew that the hot water opened the skin pores and shaving against the grain removed the hair to just below the skin.

Shower finished she moved back to the bedroom to towel herself off. She thought she smelled breakfast cooking.

It was while applying her make-up -– concealer, foundation, eye liner, mascara, face powder and lipstick, always in that order -– that she asked herself ‘what am I going to wear?’ The low-cut short ruffled red ‘club dress’ had been a hit at the party and had obviously caught his attention but combined with her high heels it was not exactly day wear in their part of the world. She found a bath robe in the closet and slipped it on over her bra and panties.

“Good morning,” she said cautiously as she opened the door to the rest of the suite. ‘Wow, this is huge,’ she thought to herself as she surveyed the room. He was busy in the kitchen area. Having just placed two large, fresh glasses of orange juice on the counter with the smell of coffee brewing, he momentarily turned his attention back to the stove where a batch of French toast, dipped in fresh eggs and milk were ready for turning.

“Good morning. Don’t you look lovely,” he replied, “I hope you are hungry. I’m trying to wow you with my cooking.”

“Look, I’m sorry if my snoring drove you out of bed.”

“It did. That was quite a symphony you had going. I did not want to disturb you so I just moved to the living room. But how did you know you were snoring?”

“I woke up with a really bad case of dry mouth. The two go hand in hand. It seems the worse the dry mouth the worse the snoring was and this morning my mouth was really dry. Now that I think of it my throat even feels a little bruised. But I think that is from something else.” She managed a sly smile.

He immediately understood her reference. “Sorry about that but you were the one that wanted it.” Changing the subject he added, “Would you like some coffee and some breakfast?”

“Yes, I’m famished. But may I ask who are you and where are we?”

“I’m the man of your dreams and we are in dreamland,” he said with a smile.

She winced at the corny line. “No seriously, where are we? How did we get here?”

“We are at my apartment hotel in Beverley Hills. We met last night outside the Queen Mary and you offered to show me how to get back here. Then I offered you a place to stay and you accepted.”

“That’s what I remember, too. But don’t you mean your hotel apartment?”

“No, I own the hotel or at least my company does so when I am in town the Presidential Suite is mine. Welcome to the Presidential Suite.”

But did you know that I am a crossdresser?” she continued with the questions while trying to process how rich this man must be.

“I wasn’t sure at first but given that it was the Queen Mary I figured there was a pretty good chance that you were. No, of course I knew. I’m a long-time ‘admirer’.”

“Were you in the club earlier in the evening?” she asked, “I didn’t see you.”

“No, I’m in town for meetings on a business deal. I had been out to dinner with our new partners and just happened to have time to drift by the club around closing time. I pretended to be lost and you were nice enough to help me. I hope what I have given you will take care of you and help you get back home.”

“Look, I’m not some cheap hooker,” she protested. She wanted to tell him more but he cut her off.

“Okay, I can pay more. But I have a proposition for you. I’m in town for the week. I’ll have a lot of meetings during the day but it would be nice to come back to you every evening. It would be nice to go out with you some evenings. I have court side tickets to the Lakers game on Thursday and tickets to the Oscars on Sunday. I’d love to have you with me.”

She was speechless.

“I’ll pay you $2,000 for the week,” he added.

She was going to tell him she was not any kind of escort at all, that she was just a college teacher from Canada visiting L.A. during a term break. However what came out was “but I don’t have a thing to wear.”

“I thought of that,” he replied, “so if you agree I have an additional advance so you can get yourself some nice outfits. Your red dress looks very pretty on you but perhaps you can get some things that are a bit more Rodeo Drive than Ross Dress for Less.”

‘How did he know that dress came from Ross?’ she thought to herself.

By then their breakfast was finished. He started to clean up the table as she continued to sip her coffee.

“I have to get going,” he continued. “I hate to rush you for a decision but if you agree to stay with me I will have the hotel car and driver at your disposal for the day. I have some cash for your shopping and I have an extra key for the apartment. The manager knows you may be staying with me. He will deal with the staff and they will be discreet.”

She did not reply right away. She did not know how to tell him she was just a teacher from Canada.

“Look if $2,000 is not enough we’ll make it three,” he said a bit impatiently.

“Okay,” she replied. “Who am I to say no? I’d love to spend the week with you.”

“Good. Now I’m going to take a shower. You are welcome to join me or just relax if you wish. The money for the clothes is in an envelope on the counter. The car will be downstairs when you need it.

She finished her coffee and once she heard the shower running she slipped off her robe and still wearing her panties and bra, made her way to the shower.

Dear readers: you may have figured out that as she told me this I was getting very doubtful that anything she was saying was true. “I think you are having me on,” I protested politely. “This all sounds like the plot of a Julia Roberts movie. The only things missing are the snotty sales clerk and the sleazy lawyer. I suppose your friend’s name was Edward”

“It was but he preferred to be called Ted. It does sound like Pretty Woman, I know,” she replied. “Where do you think they got the idea for the screenplay? It all played out as I told you and as I told one of the girls at the ‘Queen’ the next time I was in Los Angeles. She must have liked the story because the next thing I know I’m seeing it being told on the big screen.”

“Are you serious? Did you protest? That sounds like plagiarism to me.”

“What was I to do? I was a simple and closeted college teacher from Canada. I could have sued but I had nothing. I had nothing in writing. I had no bills, no receipts. He did not sweep me off my feet. The morning after the Oscars he was gone and I moved out, taking a new suitcase full of clothes back to Canada. I did have the clothes and I did have more money going home than when I left but that was pretty circumstantial. Ted had disappeared from my life. I would have had to expose myself for a lot of risk and not much chance of a payoff to say the story was mine. Besides they made enough changes to make the similarities seem coincidental.

“I just let it go but every time I watch the movie I get to see Julia Roberts making a pretty cute me. And Ted was nice but he was no Richard Gere.”

“Well, I’m going to tell your story,” I protested again. “People should know what really happened.”

“Please don’t,” she said, “but if you do I’ll tell everyone that it is all just fiction.”

So there we stand. What’s a girl to believe?

Tags: crossdressing, featured

Category: Transgender Fun & Entertainment