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*
Tiffany takes Walter to a very exclusively private, secret celebrity, swinging hideout where only the rich and famous play all night and have sex with other celebrities.
Saturday night and with Bill, Tiffany's husband, getting to know Linda, Walter's wife much better sexually, Walter and Tiffany were out for an evening on the town. Not knowing where she was taking him, but promising him a good time, she wouldn't tell him where they were going and what they were doing. Their destination was a secret, sexual surprise.
Tiffany parked her car in a private lot and retrieved a ticket from the machine to claim her car later.
"Let me pay for the parking," said Walter reaching for the ticket.
"The parking is free, as long as I have my parking ticket validated with the bartender," said Tiffany. "If you're not too star stuck to remember, remind me to have my parking ticket validated when leaving," she said with a smile while looking over at him.
She was so beautiful when she smiled. Star struck? He figured that she meant in the way he continuingly stared at her while pinching himself that he wasn't dreaming. He figured that she was referring to the way he looked at her with stars in his eyes. With him going from masturbating himself while watching her clean her kitchen in her sexy nightgowns to having sex with her, he can't believe lucky he is to be with her. With him being a top tier man, at least a level five pussy licker, if only he knew it was the other way around. If anyone considered themselves lucky, Tiffany was the one who considered herself lucky.
They parked the car, got out, and took the elevator down to the street level. Once outside, not knowing where he was, Walter didn't recognize anything familiar. Not paying attention to the road signs, he was paying more attention to Tiffany's short skirt riding up her shapely thighs as she drove. Wondering if she was wearing panties, he was thinking more about eating her again. He loved licking her pussy as much as he loved her sucking his cock.
"Where are we?"
"You needn't know where we are," she said teasing him.
"Where is this place?"
Tiffany nodded her head in the direction of the club.
"Just across the street," said Tiffany.
Walter fussed with his wig, straightened his dress, and checked feeling them with his hands to see if he was still wearing both clip-on earrings. He opened his purse and pulled out his compact for one last check of his lipstick.
"I'm so nervous," said Walter. "How do I look? Do I look stupid? Tell me the truth and be honest, do I look as ridiculous as I feel I do?"
She looked over at him and checked him up and down before complimenting him.
"You look very pretty," said Tiffany giving him a satisfied smile. "Don't worry. Everything will be fine."
Feeling better about himself dressed as a woman after Tiffany's assurances, he smiled his confidence at her.
"Thank you," he said. "So where are we going?"
She looked at him closed lipped while smiling her secret.
"I told you. It's a surprise," she said. "If I tell you where we're going now, it won't be much of a surprise."
His first time out in public dressed as a woman, all that he could think of is other people's perceptions of him.
"Do you think people will believe that I'm a woman?"
She looked at him and laughed.
"No," she said. "Even though I did what I could with your wig and makeup, you look too much like a man."
Able to fool himself into thinking that he looked pretty enough to leave his house dressed as a woman, Tiffany telling him that he looked more like a man than he did a woman was a baseball bat of a reality check to the back of his head. Now he felt foolish. Now he felt insane that he could fool anyone other than himself into thinking that he looked anything like a woman.
"Oh," he said suddenly hurt.
At the very least, he was hoping his womanly appearance was more befitting of Aerosmith's lyrics, Dude Looks Like a Lady.
"Walter, Honey, it's not so much the way you look but the way you act," she said backtracking her negative comment.
The first time she called him honey, he liked having her calling him that endearment. He never heard her call her husband Honey. She always called Bill Babe or Baby. Perhaps in the way that Babe and Baby was reserved for Bill, Honey was reserved for him.
"Oh," he said still tingling from her calling him Honey.
He imagined calling her Sweetheart and Darling, maybe even Baby Doll, when the time was right.
"You walk like a man and you talk like a man. With that girdle you're wearing that raises and sculpts your ass, and your sexy legs, you look more like a woman from behind," she said patting his ass and laughing.
As if he was a 4-year-old about to have a temper tantrum, he stopped walking.
"Then, I don't want to go if I'm only going to embarrass myself in front of a lot of people. I don't want people laughing at me. They'll be lots of people there right? I'm vulnerable right now. This is my first time in public dressed as a woman."
Tiffany smiled her encouragement.
"Yes, they'll be lots of people there but, trust me, you won't embarrass yourself. Having already arranged in advance with the host for you to have a good time, I promise you that you won't feel uncomfortable once you're inside," she said taking his arm. "With them all having the air of celebrity, these are your regular, everyday people who just happen to be rich and famous. These people embrace everyone who's rich and famous and even though you're not rich, after tonight, you'll be famous," said Tiffany.
Walter wondered why he'd be famous after tonight. Celebrities? He was going to meet celebrities? Maybe she was taking him to a fund raiser. Maybe the fund raiser was for retired cross dressers. Maybe they were expecting him to make a charitable contribution. He wish he had taken more cash with him.
He wondered who these rich and famous people were. He wondered where Tiffany met rich and famous people. Maybe she met rich and famous people when she worked as a stripper stripping off her clothes. Without compare, she is the most beautiful stripper he's ever met. Actually, she's the only stripper he's ever met but he's seen plenty.
He only wished he could have had the pleasure of watching her stripping off her clothes on stage in front of a roomful of horny, drunken men. He only wished he could have watched her making love to a pole while dancing naked. Only, he'd be jealous watching her remove her clothes in front of other men. He didn't know how Bill could watch his girlfriend before she was his wife, strip off her clothes.
Then, while thinking of Bill, with her being so beautiful and so shapely, he wondered why she married Bill, a police officer, instead of marrying someone rich and famous. Bill was just a regular guy but a good man. Maybe she tired of living the fast life of mansions, private jets, expensive jewels, and fast cars. The same old story, maybe she married Bill because she fell in love with him. He was her security at the nightclub. In the way so very many people want fortune and fame, maybe she doesn't care about being rich and famous but doesn't mind dipping her toe in the rich and famous pool every once in a while.
"Suddenly, I feel as if you're Glinda, the good witch, taking me to see the Wizard in Oz," he said with a laugh. "I should have worn my sparkling ruby shoes," he said.
"You have ruby shoes like in the Wizard of Oz?"
"I do. I even have glass slippers like Cinderella," he said with a laugh.
"I should have known that a cross dresser with a shoe fetish would have ruby shoes and glass slippers. Tell me, do you have Marilyn Monroe's panties that she wore when her white dress blew up in the air?"
"I do," he said.
"Now when a woman's dress blows up in the air, there's a good chance that she's not wearing any panties," said Tiffany.
Walter imagined walking down the yellow brick road with Tiffany to a fantasy place that's not open to the general public. A hidden, sexual sanctuary for the rich and famous celebrities, he imagined being interviewed by Ashleigh Banfield of CNN when emerging from the private off-limits club.
"Walter! Walter! Or do you prefer being called Wendy? Please a moment of your time," he imagined Ashleigh saying.
"No comment," he imagined himself pulling away from a crowd of reporters.
"Can you tell us who was in the club with you? Can you tell us what they were all doing? Can you tell us if you saw any celebrities having sex? Can you tell us if you had sex with anyone rich and/or famous?"
Walter imagined covering his face so that no one would recognize him on CNN. If the people in his small town knew that he was a cross dresser and knew that he was at a private sex club dressed as a woman, he was done. He was finished. He'd be lucky to still have a job. He'd have to sell his house and move somewhere no one knew who he was. With him always wanting fortune, he never wanted fame.
In the way that his neighbors were so closed minded, even though Tiffany lived there for six years, she still wasn't accepted. The only reason why they tolerated her living in their precious all white neighborhood was because she was married to Bill, a big, bad cop sworn to protect and serve all of their prejudiced, white, fat asses. Moreover, if the men ever knew that Tiffany was an ex-stripper, they'd no doubt wish they had seen her strip while wondering if Bill had pictures of his shapely wife in all manners of undress. If the women knew that Tiffany was an ex-stripper, few of her them would even say so much as "Hi", to her ever again.
"Where we're going there are no judgments, no shame, and no embarrassment. I'm taking you to a very special place. A secret place where everyone is there for the same thing, to have a good time. We're all there to have a good time," said Tiffany squeezing his arm and giving him a kiss.
Not used to walking on 3" high heels, Walter was wobbly legged on his blue, leather shoes. His shoes coordinated with his blue handbag, matched his blue dress, and accented his blue, chunky gumball sized, fashion jewelry that consisted of a blue necklace, blue earrings, and a giant blue ring. But for his dark brown, shoulder length wig, instead of wearing a grey haired wig put up in a bun, with his big, padded bra leading the way, he looked more like Mrs. Doubtfire that he did a pretty woman. Tiffany held him steady while they crossed the street.
Continuing forward, they walked down an empty alleyway filled with a half dozen closed circuit TV cameras that monitored the alley in both directions. The only giveaways that this was someplace special were the surveillance cameras angled everywhere. With no one outside waiting to get it, this was a very private club. Either the people in attendance were already inside or, wanting to make a fashionable appearance, they were late. As if she had been there before, and she had many times before she was married, she knocked three slow times on a flat black, metal door, "Knock...knock...knock."
* * * * *
In the way they did with a speakeasy during prohibition, a man behind the door opened a sliding, narrow, metal opening in the door.
"Yes?"
