How I Learned To Love Drag

by Laurie S.

 

CHAPTER 9

Standing in front of a full-length mirror in my private cubicle, I was almost ecstatic!

Looking back at me was a buff, naked Sharon Stone.

The blonde hair was pulled back neatly into a bun. She had that beautiful sultry smile, those perfect teeth, full lips, dark immaculate eyebrows, smoky smoldering eyes, that perfect iridescent skin; and yet, beneath the sexy sculpted exterior, was the hint of danger.

Even if my figure was shapely, my breasts didn't look realistic. The glued-on breasts were obviously false. No attempt had been made to blend the edge of the boobs with my real flesh.

Then there was what hung between my legs. That wouldn't do.

The decision as to what I else I should wear had been left up to me. Should I wear a false vagina? Or a gaff?

The false V string vagina was very tempting. The latex lips looked quite inviting. Although the prosthesis didn't look totally real, it certainly would pass the television camera's scrutiny of anything but a close up crotch shot. On the other hand, the gaff was a safe choice and it was as easy to put on as a bikini bottom.

"Stop admiring yourself," urged May from the other side of the cubicle. "They're waiting for you on the set. There's no time to dilly dally."

Quickly I made my selection.

Then May handed me a white dress over top of a shuttered door. Hurriedly I slipped the dress over my head. When I stepped out of my change cubicle, May helped zip up the back of the outfit.

The turtleneck dress was sleeveless and short - it showed a lot of leg. The white satin felt smooth and sexy against my skin. May offered the soft white jacket to me. I slipped my left arm in, and then the other.

I slipped on the proffered footwear. They were open-toed, white high heels with a sling-back strap.

Sharon Stone's captivating image looked back at me from the full-length mirror.

The transformation had come at the cost of the complete removal of my body hair. And my whole body felt so different. My skin felt so silky smooth! It felt so feminine! And sexy! And did I mention sexy!

"Don't forget the earrings," reminded May as she held up the faux diamond studs. "This will take a minute. I have to glue them on since you still haven't pierced your ears."

I sat down in a chair as May glued the backs of the fake diamonds. Then she stuck them onto my ears. Using her thumbs and forefingers, she clamped onto my earlobes for thirty seconds or so to ensure that the diamonds would stick.

For the past few days, I had been immersed in the Joe Esterhas script. I had studied one particular Sharon Stone scene until I knew her every gesture, expression, nuance and inflection by heart. Nevertheless I still had the butterflies.

"Okay Sean. Go get 'em tiger," encouraged May. We kissed.

Then I dashed down the hallway to the studio set as fast as I could manage in my high heels.

It was a police interrogation room. Lights from the baseboards and from fluorescent lights above illuminated the light gray brick walls. It created a stark, antiseptic, menacing atmosphere.

"Sorry for the delay," I said to the others.

"Women. Always have to fix their hair and makeup - and they never have anything to wear," complained Scott Calvin.

"You're looking beautiful, babe," said Mark Mitchell admiringly. "I don't know how you do it."

"Thanks Mark," I replied in my best Sharon Stone voice.

Then somebody's arm wrapped around me from behind.

"Well if it isn't Michael Douglas," I teased as he gave me a hug.

"Very sexy," said Dave slyly.

Dave wore a wig resembling the distinctive sweptback hairstyle of Michael Douglas, in the part of Detective Nick Duggan.

All of the actors on the set were dressed in suits.

But there were two fellas I didn't recognize.

"Hi," said a new character. "I'm Terry Edwards."

We hugged and I gave him kisses on both cheeks.

With a look of delight, he said, "I'm supposed to be Lieutenant Walker in this scene. And I'm supposed to be your body-double at some time in the future."

"Ah, Ted told me he'd be hiring someone to double for me," I said with a friendly smile. "Please turn around for a moment."

There was a momentary look of surprise. Then he did as I asked.

"So that's what I look like from the back," I said with a giggle.

"Yeah," replied Terry with a laugh. "I guess that's why they hired me."

"Hey, if you handle your lines well, who knows what that might lead to."

"I hope I get more work," said Terry.

I gave him an affectionate squeeze of the hand.

Then I approached the other new guy who was talking to producer Ted Walters.

Hi," I said, "I just wanted to introduce myself."

"Please allow me to do the honors," said Ted. "Although he looks like Sharon Stone right now, this is really Sean Davidson."

"And he's Darryl Logan," added Ted.

We hugged.

"Pleased to meet you," I said.

"Incredible. This is like The Crying Game," joked Darryl. "You're not related to Jaye Davidson, are you?"

"Only by inclination," I replied.

Darryl was a middle-aged portly fellow with a crew cut. He looked like one of the cops on NYPD.

"All right, time's a wasting," said Aaron. "Let's take our positions. Since Sean was in makeup when we rehearsed, let's stick to the way it's scripted. We can improvise in subsequent takes. Okay?"

In the film Basic Instinct, Sharon Stone played the role of seductive Catherine Tramell, a mystery writer. Michael Douglas was Nick Duggan a police detective. The Sharon Stone character was a prime suspect in a series of vicious sex murders.

The interrogation scene was memorable for two reasons. First, Sharon Stone, as a femme fatale murderer, toyed with the five police detectives who grilled her and tried to pressure her into admitting she was the killer. Second, during the interrogation, Sharon Stone flashed her bald beaver at the detectives, making memorable cinematic history.

There were three cameras set up to record the action.

I walked in with Nick/Dave and Gus/Darryl. In the room were prosecutor John Correlli/Scott, Lt. Walker/Terry, and Captain Talcott/Mark.

As soon as I stepped into the interrogation room, Scott/Correli approached me briskly.

"I'm John Correli, Miss Tramell, assistant district attorney. I have to inform you this session is being taped. This is Captain Talcott."

"My pleasure," said Captain Talcott as we shook hands.

"And Lieutenant Walker," continued Correli.

"Hi," said Lt. Walker with a firm squeeze of the hand.

Captain Talcott asked, "Can we get you anything? A cup of coffee?"

"No thank you," I replied, hoping that I sounded like Sharon Stone.

Correli asked, "Are your attorneys going to join us?"

Nick Duggan stepped forward. "Ms. Tramell has waived her rights to an attorney."

Correli and Talcott looked at Nick knowingly.

I spotted the look. "Did I miss something?" I asked with an innocent smile.

"I told them that you wouldn't want an attorney present," said Nick.

"Why have you waived your right to an attorney?" asked Captain Talcott.

Looking at Nick, I asked, "Why did you think I wouldn't want one?"

Nick said, "I told them you wouldn't want to hide."

"I have nothing to hide." I stared at Nick for a moment. If they only knew the truth.

I walked forward to the solitary black armchair chair set up for me. I sat down, with my legs crossed, giving the detectives an in-your-face look at my shapely limbs. I smiled for the camera, hoping that I was showing the inner confidence of a beautiful woman.

The police detectives sat down at two separate tables. Gus and Nick sat at a table to my left. Correli, Captain Talcott and Lt. Walker sat at a table to my right.

I reached into my jacket pocket. I extracted a cigarette and lighter.

I tried to stay poised. Cool, calm, in complete command of my emotions.

Correli said, "There's no smoking in this building Miss Tramell."

"What are you going to do? Charge me with smoking?"

I slowly and deliberately lit my cigarette and casually blew the smoke out. If they had sat nearer, I would have blown it in their faces.

Correli began. "Would you tell us the nature of your business with Mr. Boz?"

"I had sex with him for about a year and a half. I liked having sex with him." I felt very self-assured. As I continued speaking, I made eye contact first with Nick, then Gus, and then each of the other guys. "He wasn't afraid of experimenting . . . I like men like that . . . Men who give me pleasure . . . He gave me a lot of pleasure."

Corelli asked, "Did you ever, uh, engage in any sadomasochistic activity?"

I leaned forward and smiled. "Exactly what did you have in mind, Mr. Correli?"

Looking a little flustered, Correli asked, "Did you ever tie him up?"

"No."

"You never tied him up?" asked Nick

"No. John A. liked to use his hands too much. I like hands with fingers . . . although fisting can be very pleasurable too."

They stared at me.

"You described a white silk scarf in your book," stated Lt. Walker.

As I took off my white jacket, I replied, "I've always had a fondness for white silk scarves. They're good for all occasions, even for tying men's limbs up to bedposts."

Nick noted, "But you said you like men to use their hands. Didn't you?"

"No I said I liked John A. to use his hands." I smiled. "I don't make any rules, Nick. I go with the flow." I eyed Nick as the camera zoomed in on me.

"Did you kill Mr. Boz, Miss Tramell?" asked Correli.

"I'd have to be pretty stupid to write a book about killing and then kill somebody the way I described it in my book. I'd be announcing myself as the killer. I'm not stupid."

Captain Talcott commented, "We know you're not stupid Miss Tramell."

Lt. Walker said, "Maybe that's what you're counting on to get you off the hook."

Nick said, "Writing the book gives you an alibi."

"Yes it does, doesn't it." I held Nick's eyes for a moment. "The answer is no. I didn't kill him."

Nick got up from his table to get a cup of coffee.

Gus asked, "Do you use drugs Miss Tramell?"

"Sometimes."

"Did you ever use drugs with Mr. Boz?" asked Lt. Walker.

"Sure."

"What kind of drugs?" asked Gus.

I looked directly at Nick.

"Cocaine . . . Have you ever fucked on cocaine Nick?"

Nick looked up. At that moment, he was standing almost directly in front of me. He held up his cup of coffee and took a sip.

With a teasing smile, I slowly, revealingly uncrossed my legs, flashing my panty-less crotch at the detectives. Correli, in particular, had a hungry sex-starved look.

But Nick lifted his coffee cup up at precisely the time I flashed my crotch to the detectives. The cup had blocked my genitalia from camera view.

There were looks of shock from all five!

"Fucking on cocaine," I reminded them, "it's nice."

And then I crossed my legs in the opposite direction, bringing my leg up a little higher than usual, to tantalize and tease.

"Why Miss Tramell!" exclaimed Correli. "You're a man!"

"Well duh! I just flashed my stiff dick at you! And I wrote a book entitled The Psycho Urban Legend! The main character is named Lorena Bates, and it turns out she's a pre-op transsexual."

None of this was in the prepared script. We were improvising now.

"I guess we should have clued in," admitted Lt. Walker. "Particularly since Mr. Boz was killed exactly as described in the book. His limbs were tied to the bedposts. His mouth was taped to muffle the screaming. Then the killer took out a common garden tool and did the dirty deed."

"In my book, the victim was Dwayne Bobblehead. His lover, Lorena, used a common garden tool as you described. She used a Weed Whacker to whack off…"

"We don't need to go into the dirty details, Miss Tramell!" interrupted Correli. "We know 'All the king's horses and all the king's men, couldn't put the erector set together again.'"

"You like playing mind-bending games, don't you?" insinuated Nick.

"I have a degree in Psychology." I casually flicked my Bic on and off. "It goes with the turf. Games are fun."

I stared at Nick and he stared back at me.

"What about dressing up in drag? That's a game. Is that fun too?"

Captain Talcott interrupted, "I don't think that's relevant to this inquiry."

"Dressing was fun 'til Manny died."

Nick asked, "How'd you feel when he died?"

"I loved him. It hurt."

Nick eyed me. "How'd you feel when I told you Johnny Boz had died?"

"I felt like somebody had read my book and was playing a game."

"But it didn't hurt?"

"No."

"Because you didn't love him."

"That's right."

Nick's eyes bore into me. "Even though you were fucking him."

"Up the wazoo. You still get the pleasure. Didn't you ever fuck anybody else when you were married, Nick?"

Lt. Walker asked, "How'd you know he was married?"

"Maybe I was just guessing. What difference does it make?" I was mocking and taunting him. "Would you like a cigarette Nick?" I asked as I pulled out my cigarette case. "Or would you like to suck my dick?"

"Screw you! I'd like to punch your lights out, you sick pervert!"

"Can you say lawsuit Nick?" I asked, pointing to the video camera. "After all, this is San Francisco. Or are you into pain? Are you a sadomasochist too?"

Nick's eyes burned through me. But he backed off.

I lit another cigarette, hoping it would annoy Nick. Ex-smokers craved the nicotine fix.

"Do you two know each other?" asked Lt. Walker.

"No," said Nick.

"No, but I did kiss him. And I do like him . . . A lot."

Dick squirmed uncomfortably at the thought of our greeting kiss.

"How did you meet Mr. Boz? asked Lt. Walker.

"I wanted to write a book about the murder of a retired rock 'n roll star. I went down to his club, I picked 'Scags' up, that was my nickname for him, and I had sex with him."

Lt. Walker said, "You didn't feel anything for 'Scags' Boz. You just had sex with him for your book."

"In the beginning." I glanced at Nick. "Then I got to like what he did for me. And he loved having a chick with a dick."

Gus commented, "That's pretty cold ain't it Miss Tramell, or should I say Mister Tranny?"

I eyed Nick tauntingly.

"Either will do . . . I'm a writer. I use people for what I write. I like seducing men. Let the world beware. I'm a shemale slut . . . Do you want me to take a lie detector test?"

There was a long pause.

"Cut!" yelled Aaron Spacek. "That was great! As good as it gets! I could really feel the tension. Especially the sexual heat! Sean, you were wonderful as that Catherine bitch. A psychotic temptress! If Sharon Stone doesn't want to do the sequel to Basic Instinct, you should audition. We'll send in this tape. You're one sexy, dangerous killer!"

"Thank you Aaron! I love ya!" I replied back.

As the other actors approached me, giving each other high fives, I got up from my chair.

"Amazing," added Dave. "You exuded sex! And when you uncrossed your legs, I didn't know what to expect."

I laughed. Then I hugged him.

"Did I surprise you?"

"Up 'til the crossover, it was the exact replay of Basic Instinct," praised Dave. "But then I think there was genuine shock! Going au naturel. Didn't your mother ever tell you it was rude to point?"

Scott Calvin gave me a playful slap on the back. "Great take, Sean! And what a nasty surprise!"

"Terrific!" added Mark Mitchell. "It's like you were born to play the temptress. Or tempter I guess."

"That was bold!" added Terry Edwards with an impish grin. "But I don't think I can be your body double anymore."

I must have had a puzzled look on my face.

"I'm not circumcised," said Terry with mock despair. "And I'm not about to have the surgery."

"Very cute. Maybe you'll get more lines next time."

We hugged . . . If you had sex with your body double, would it be like masturbation?

"Thanks everybody! All you guys were great!"

I had a group hug with all of the guys.

Maybe it was the stimulating feel of the fabric. Perhaps it was the cool breeze between my smooth hairless legs or maybe it was just being in close proximity to five sexcited guys. My huge boner formed a wigwam in the front of the dress's white satin fabric. Thankfully all the guys pretended not to notice. And I pretended not to notice their totem poles either.

"All right! Let's set up again!" yelled out Aaron Spacek. Let's try to make it funnier this time! Less sexy. And we must eliminate the F word. Screw works for me. After all, we do have some kids that watch the show."

Even though our first take had failed the taste test, that afternoon marked a turning point in the way I felt about the show. Being the new member of the cast, I was worried that I was being too conservative! Too timid! Too hesitant! I think I had overcome that fear. Now I felt much more at home. And accepted. The other demon that I had been struggling with was simply that of dressing as a woman. I lacked confidence portraying a female. This scene was the first time I truly experienced the power of being an alluring sexy lady - or shemale. I really believed I could have tempted any man to do my bidding with just an encouraging smile or a come hither look.

Maybe even after they discovered Catherine/Sean was a man.

 

CHAPTER 10

As I stood on the first tee of the Royal Vancouver Golf Club, I must admit that Lotus Land sure had a lot going for it. On one side of me was a breathtaking view of the Pacific Ocean. In front of me was one of North America's finest golf courses. And in the distance was the snow-capped peak of majestic Mount Baker.

"Ladies first," I said to May.

"Thanks," she replied.

I watched as she lined up the ball. She took a practice swing, then with a little waggle of the club, she went into her swing motion again.

"Whoook!"

I followed the flight of the ball. It must have sailed two hundred yards down the middle of the fairway.

"Good shot!" I said.

"Thanks."

"I hope I won't embarrass myself."

"You said you played before."

"Uh huh, but watching your gorgeous form might just throw off my concentration a little," I suggested.

She smiled.

May was dressed in an eye pleasing turquoise golf dress that showed off her shapely legs. I couldn't help myself. I was a leg man from way back.

Then I went into my hockey swing. "Whoook!" Adam Sandler didn't invent that in Happy Gilmore.

My ball was in trouble from the start. It sliced right, finding the deep rough on the first bounce, about a hundred fifty yards down the fairway. Perhaps it may have even rolled into the Douglas Fir forest.

"Damn balls," I complained. "These balls aren't supposed to slice or hook. They're guaranteed to go straight."

"I hope you kept the receipt. But I don't think the ball is the problem. Ultimately, no matter how you slice it, a golf ball is still a golf ball."

"Yeah, yeah. I know. I merely said I had played the game before. I didn't say my name was Tiger."

"So why are you wearing dark pants, a red shirt and a black Nike cap?"

"Would you believe the intimidation factor?"

"Good try. I'm trembling," she said with a smile. "But right now, Woods might be appropriate."

"How's that?"

"I think your ball may have trickled into the trees."

After searching through the long rough and then the dense rainforest for a few minutes, I found the ball. And I do mean rainforest. A boy from Manitoba never saw Douglas Firs and Red Cedars higher than grain silos.

My Titleist had settled up against a tree root. I had to settle for chipping the ball back onto the fairway.

Then my next shot wasn't bad. It hit the green, but continued to roll and eventually ended up in the rough beyond the immaculately kept greens of this beautiful Royal Vancouver course. I had never mastered the art of backspin.

May's second shot was flag high, about 15 feet to the right of the pin.

I settled for a quadruple bogey eight. I should have stuck to mini golf. They stopped counting after seven shots.

Would you believe May holed her putt for birdie?

She created quite a first impression.

At the second tee, May shrugged and lamented my, "Bad luck."

"No," I replied in my best John Houseman voice, "I earned it."

"You have the honor this time."

I looked down the narrow fairway nestled in this heavily forested rugged ravine. Looking precariously close, a massive granite rock face jutted out on the right.

"Bit of a daunting hole, this next one. Dogleg right, three hundred ninety yards. It's a par four," I said in my best Sean Connery brogue.

I took a practice swing with my 1-Wood.

When I looked at a distant spot to target down the fairway, somehow I was reminded of a Tennyson poem.

Sand traps to the right of us,
Sand traps to the left of us,
Sand traps in front of us
My driver volleyed and thundered.
"Whoook!"
Into the Jaws of Death,
Into the Mouth of Hell,
Carried the ball at least two hundred.

The little white blur flew long and high, avoiding the sand hazards, but started hooking left. Unfortunately it was a dogleg right.

"At least I'm not in the woods," I remarked.

"Good distance, Tiger."

May took a practice swing. Then she went into that distinctive waggle. "Whoook!" It was like a replay of her shot at the first tee. Two hundred yards, slightly right, well placed for her second shot on the dogleg.

If this was any indication of how the afternoon was going to play out, I'd say I was going to be 'in tough.'

I never could stand getting beat at any sport by a girl.

For the rest of the round, I fared no better. It was like a Star Trek adventure. If there was a water hazard, a sand trap, deep rough, scenic cave, or alien vegetation, I went where no man had gone before.

As for May, she kept striking the ball with robotic precision. She had a sweet golf swing! But she didn't have the strength to really blast the ball.

Occasionally I hit the ball longer than May. However, I was very inconsistent.

At the Nineteenth Hole Restaurant, we sat down to have a cool beverage. On the outdoor patio, against the backdrop of a Tudor style clubhouse, we took refuge from the late afternoon sun beneath a rainbow colored sun umbrella.

"Let me see, with that double bogey on the eighteenth, that gave me eighteen bogeys for the round," I said as I placed my sweaty Nike cap on the green plastic dining table. "A pretty consistent streak, if I say so myself."

"Well I had ten bogeys, two double bogeys" said May as she looked at her scorecard, "four pars and two birdies. I was ten over par."

"You only beat me by thirty-one strokes," I grumbled. "Is 113 an unlucky number?"

"No. However, if you're superstitious, round it up to 114. And we won't disqualify you for an incorrect score card."

"You are hard. But, I must admit, you thrashed me fair and square."

"Well, I had an advantage," she said. "You've never played the course before."

"Yes, you're right. That's the reason."

"But I really did enjoy whipping your ass," teased May.

"Uh huh." When you're outclassed, there isn't much to say.

"And, by the way, my ex-boyfriend? He's the golf pro here."

"That's way more information than I wanted to know." Was she still involved with him?

"Oh come on. You've been in relationships before."

"Yes, but I never had a boyfriend who was a golf pro."

"No, I could tell . . . C'mon, tell me about your ex-girlfriends."

"Okay, okay, if you insist. I had a girlfriend when I was in high school. She was really smart, she had a good sense of humor, and a kind heart."

"And what was her name?"

"Beverly," I said. "She was a red head. And I thought she was pretty hot stuff."

"So what happened to her?"

"Her family moved to the United States."

"Did you keep in touch?"

"Yes, for a while."

"And?"

"We wrote each other on birthdays and at Christmas, but eventually it petered out."

"Did you ever see her again?"

"Just once. She came back for a visit about a year after she moved. But, distance was a big barrier."

"I see."

"What about you? Anything serious?"

"Yes. I am still friends with the golf pro, Gary, but it just wasn't in the stars."

"Why not?"

"He didn't want to settle down. Gary has dreams of joining the pro tour."

"How about your career? How did you get into the wardrobe department at ECSTASY?"

May looked at me for a moment with her clear brown sparkling eyes.

"I didn't plan on this when I was in school. Things just sort of happened."

I raised my eyebrows in mild surprise.

"There was a fashion designer I knew when I was in high school," continued May. "Here in Vancouver, there's a big charity event in support of AIDS. He asked me if I'd come out for the show and model for him . . . I was quite flattered so I took him up on the offer."

"I can see why him he made the offer," I said admiringly.

"Thank you," she said as she patted my arm affectionately. "Modeling was really fun that first time. I seemed to have a flair for it. Then I got some modeling gigs for the runway. After that, it seemed to snowball. I got some more work for store catalogues and for newspaper ads. Before I knew it, I had a pretty good portfolio. I moved to Toronto for a while. I got jobs there."

"How about New York?"

"Yes. I worked in New York a lot. Also I went to LA and overseas to London, Paris and Milan."

"Wow! Impressive!"

"It was pretty exciting for about six years or so."

"So what happened?"

"Although I enjoyed it, it was pretty hectic . . . and pretty volatile."

"What do you mean?"

"It had so many ups and downs. You seem to go through cycles. Sometimes you're hot, sometimes you're cold. And you know it's not going to last forever."

"How did this wardrobe stuff come about?"

"Well, as a model, the clothes are always being altered to fit you. I got to be pretty good at it. I didn't have the stereotypical model's height and build. And I didn't want to get implants. Plus, in my spare time, I took some fashion courses at community colleges in Toronto, just out of interest. When I moved back home to Vancouver, I had a contact in the movie industry here. Initially I worked on a few films, then a few television shows. Before I knew it, it became a regular job. And then along came ECSTASY."

 

CHAPTER 11

At the bull session to begin the week, we kicked around a lot of different skit ideas.

Dave brought up the topic of gay marriages. We ran with that concept for awhile.

Then we took a stab at the film Spiderman. The possibilities were enormous, though potentially expensive.

I suggested we do a music video parody. I loved Shakira and she was one of my best impressions. But Ted Walters had an idea. He suggested doing Shakira with a live audience.

Ted told the group that he might be able to arrange for me to appear on a talk show. That sounded intriguing. I relished the opportunity.

Then Mark came up with a brilliant idea. Sex and the City was dying for a send up. We all agreed instantly!

We divided up the script writing. Dave was paired with Scott on the gay marriage skit. I worked with Mark on Sex and the City.

***

The setting was a restaurant in Greenwich Village, New York City, at lunchtime on a Saturday. Four very attractive ladies in their thirties were discussing their favorite topic: Sex.

Scott Calvin was Sarah Jessica Parker's character, Carrie Bradshaw. Mark Mitchell was Charlotte York, who normally was portrayed by Kristin Davis. Dave Poole played Miranda Hobbes, who was brought to life by Cynthia Nixon. And I was Samantha Jones or Kim Cattrall.

Based on the book by Candace Bushnell, Sex and the City was a smash hit on American cable televsion.

Scott, as Carrie Bradshaw, did the introductory voice over as the camera took the viewer from the busy street exterior into the trendy up-scale restaurant setting.

"Some advertisers claimed that a person's car made a statement about the owner. A BMW Z3 represented power, confidence and daring. A Chrysler Neon represented youth, economy and optimism. But what about a person's pets? If a man owned a dog, was he likely to be as good in bed as a cat owner?"

"So I was coming down the elevator this morning," began Charlotte, "when this cocker spaniel began to sniff my right leg. Then it had the audacity to sniff my crotch. So the owner, a handsome guy, apologized for his dog's indiscretion."

"As long as the dog didn't lift his leg and pee on you, you shouldn't complain," stated Carrie.

"Dogs are pretty direct," noted Miranda. "When they meet other dogs in the park, they immediately sniff each others genitalia. If one of the dogs is old and no longer sexually active, the other dog loses interest immediately. If both dogs are young and sexually active, the owners have to pull them apart."

"So what did the owner look like?" I asked. "Was he sexy?"

"Oh yes. He looked like a shorter version of Tom Hanks," announced Charlotte.

"No kidding? And was this Tom Hanks Mini-me as aggressive as the dog?" asked Carrie.

"By the time we reached the front door of the lobby, he asked me out for a coffee," replied Charlotte.

"Did you accept?" asked Miranda.

"Of course."

"And?" prodded Miranda.

"He was a really interesting guy. It turned out he was an architect who had just transferred here from Chicago. Apparently he was beginning preliminary work on a new office complex in mid-Manhattan."

"So did the dog try to hump you?" snickered Carrie.

"He was well behaved while we had coffee."

"No, I meant did this Tom Hanks look-alike try to hump you?" asked Carrie.

"I knew you were going there. Tonight we are seeing a movie together. I'll keep you posted."

"I think my new next door neighbor has a cat," I said, "judging from the kitty litter boxes I saw in the hallway when the movers were doing their thing."

"I think dog owners are different from cat owners," said Charlotte.

"Dogs and cats have different personalities," said Carrie. "Dogs are more dependent than cats. Dogs need more attention. When you come home, dogs wag their tales to greet you. Cats don't display their affection as readily."

"I think I'm a dog person," said Charlotte.

"I like a tiger in my bed," I said.

Since it was our third take for this scene, Aaron Spacek called it a wrap.

I suggested calling this Sex and the City parody Crouching Tiger, Hidden Drag Queen, but it didn't fly.

***

We went back to the makeup and wardrobe section. Dave and Scott needed to get out of their female makeup and outfits. Mark and I were going to stay as sexy ladies, but we needed to change our outfits.

May helped me into a body-accentuating power suit in bright yellow, a cream blouse and a pearl necklace. The matching yellow shoes had spike heels.

Then Dave and I played a brief scene. It was set in the hallway of my apartment building.

I was taking my kitchen garbage over to the disposal chute, when I encountered Dave moving some boxes out of the elevator.

He introduced himself. Dave was delighted to meet a beautiful lady like Samantha Jones. He was my new neighbor - the one with the cat. So I invited him over to my place later for coffee, after he had finished with his unpacking and furniture arranging.

For the other storyline, Scott played the role of a Tom Hanks look-alike - the dog owner. In truth, Scott bore only a slight resemblance to Tom. But our parody of Sex and the City was much like the real series. It was all about sex! Scott Calvin, as a regular heterosexual guy, played a bedroom scene with Mark in the role of Charlotte.

The show Sex and the City revolved around fucking. Although due to censorship, we weren't allowed to use the F word for ECSTASY. Our show appealed to kids as well as adults.

While Scott and Mark did their scene, I was back in wardrobe again with May and Daniel.

I had stripped down to nothing.

Daniel eyed me critically. "The boobs look good. I don't think they need a touch up. But," said Daniel as he examined my face, "we need to fix your makeup."

Unlike my previous transformation into Sharon Stone, the edges of my false breasts and a false vagina were blended into my own flesh. The seams looked pretty smooth due to the application of liquid latex and foundation makeup. It was hard to tell the latex from the real skin because Daniel used acetone to thin the synthetic 'skin.' Such was the quality of Daniel's work, I think I could have found work as a stripper at a gentlemen's club.

I donned that amorphous blue smock again, and sat in the "barber chair" once more.

Daniel reached under the blonde, gently curled shoulder length wig with his deft touch and lifted up. A tight nylon stocking wig cap was revealed below.

"The tape has come loose. The elastic is no longer holding the shape we want," said Daniel as he placed the hair on a tall Styrofoam wig stand.

"I see." In the mirror I noted that the right side of my face around the eyes seemed to sag a little when compared to the left.

Daniel removed the Scotch tape from clips that were attached to elastics. The pull of the elastics lifted my eyebrows and altered the shape of the eye slightly, giving me a stronger resemblance to actress Kim Cattrall's facial features. Contour makeup and the blonde wig helped the transformation succeed. Daniel also used theatrical putty to replicate Cattrall's mole on the left side beneath her lower lip.

The transparent tape was reapplied. The gentle curls of the blonde wig hid the tape effectively.

My face was a reasonable facsimile of beautiful Kim Cattrall.

May was ready for my costume change. Draped over her left forearm were a black lace bra, a black lace bikini bottom and a see-through chemise.

First I stepped into the lace bikini bottom, snuggling it into place. It covered the flesh-colored false vagina that I had contemplated using for my Sharon Stone impersonation. Next I slipped on the bra. May helped do up the catch on the back. An almost transparent fine mesh chemise completed the seductive ensemble.

The alluring outfit felt amazingly sexy on my smooth as silk skin. I had no trace of body hair at all. The mirror image of Kim Cattrall enthralled me.

If it hadn't been for the tight phony vagina and my taped up genitalia beneath the lace bikini bottom, I might have developed a hard-on right then and there, in front of Daniel and May.

"Very sexy!" complimented May.

"If I was heterosexual, my hands would be all over you, honey!" claimed Daniel.

May handed me a large white terrycloth robe. "You don't want the set and stage crew to get too excited, do you?" suggested May.

I wrapped myself up in the soft fabric. There again was the scent of Ivory Snow. It reminded me of May's warm, sensual body.

"Come here May, I need a hug."

We embraced for a long time. I wanted to hump her right then and there. I was so horny!

***

There were some concerns running through my mind as we took our positions on the set. Most of them concerned dressing in drag. Well not just dressing in drag, but acting a love scene in drag. I feared that from now on, everybody would believe I was a gay transvestite. It could completely alter my social life. That was my worry.

An idea popped into my head. As preparation for the skit, I had watched some episodes of Sex and the City. I remembered a scene where the four ladies went for a lesson in lovemaking. The teacher was a spiritualist who knew about energy chakras. She showed them a 'love chakra' - a sensitive spot that elicited a vigorous sexual response. I wondered if I could use that tidbit of knowledge now. Perhaps I could spring a surprise on Dave.

Aaron Spacek, as was his custom, was using three cameras again: one to capture the big picture - the whole scene; the second for an overhead view; and the third for close-ups.

For the bedroom scene with Dave, I took off the robe and handed it to May. I could feel all eyes on the set follow me. For some reason, the set crew, the technicians and even some of the Comedy Network office staff were there.

I took my position on the bed. I rolled back the bedspread and sheets. Then I propped up the pillow against the white oak headboard and slipped my legs and lower body under the covers. Dave, wearing white cotton Fruit of the Loom underpants, took his position beside me.

It began with an establishing shot. Both of us were sitting up on the cozy, well-appointed king-size bed, our backs resting against soft fluffy pillows.

I was smoking a marijuana cigarette.

"It's Hawaiian Gold. Would you like a hit?" I asked as I tried to convey a dreamy, enjoyable state of consciousness for the viewers.

"Sure."

I handed Dave the phony joint. He inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly, drawing out the pleasure.

He passed the joint back to me. I took one more hit, then I exhaled slowly. I was totally self-absorbed, lost in Never Never Land. Then I placed the marijuana cigarette on the ashtray resting on the end table.

"Come and get me, Tiger."

We kissed. It was gentle at first. Then Dave parted his lips. Our tongues intertwined. I squirmed a little in reaction to this.

'It's a role,' I told myself. 'We're acting. Just keep going.'

I moved my hands over his bare chest. He wrapped his arms around me. Then we rolled over on the bed as I kicked back the bedcovers to allow freer movement and to give the camera a better view.

Frantically, he was using his hands to lift off my almost transparent chemise.

I tried to shirk off the soft mesh material as quickly as I could.

We broke the kiss.

Dave looked down at my awesome breasts and smiled. He used both hands to massage both boobs at the same time. Wax on, wax off.

I reached down to his underpants and pulled the elasticized band down slowly, revealing his ass cheeks. I squeezed them suggestively.

He grinned lasciviously. We kissed again. The bed bucked for a moment as he thrust his crotch toward me.

I could feel his hard member against mine. His dick was huge!

Holy shit! This was supposed to be acting!

In the animalistic rage of passion, he scrambled to undo my bra top.

Reaching with my feet, I was able to draw up the satin bed covers.

We rolled over, with Dave on top as he threw my lace bra up into the air wildly!

I reached down to grab the bed coverings with my right hand, and pulled them up higher.

We kissed again madly! We were cats in heat! Dave was a Tiger!

Our French kiss seemed to last 'til I was blue in the face! Dave knew how to draw out the moment of fervor! His octopus arms squirmed over my hair, my back, my bum, my navel, my neck, my arms, my pits and my tits!

I could feel animal magnetism! I could sense his hunger! His ardent lust!

Rolling around under the bedspread and sheets, never breaking our lip lock, Dave ended up on top of me.

We came up for air! I gasped, and then, as he rose up, I rubbed his chest with one hand and reached behind his neck with the other.

Dave teased my right nipple with a massaging motion.

He leaned forward and kissed me on the neck, licked his tongue up close to my ear, nibbled on my diamond-studded earlobe for a moment, and then inserted his tongue into my ear.

I laughed at the tickle and then I kissed him on the cheek.

He rose up again, his manhood placed directly over its intended target. In the missionary position, we simulated the thrusts of fucking, slowly at first, then building in tempo, faster and faster.

When Aaron yelled cut, I had to catch my breath.

We wanted to continue - to complete our lovemaking.

I never had the chance to press Dave's love chakra - the perineum.

The whole gathering broke out in wild applause! The rest of the cast, the technical crew, the set dressers, the construction crew and even the office staff loved us!

We both smiled sheepishly.

I looked at Dave. A tender look came to his face as he gave me a reassuring squeeze on my leg under the covers, as if to say, 'that was good!'

Holy shit!

It was my first love scene as an actor.

Were all love scenes this real?

 

CHAPTER 12

Sometimes when you hear a song on the radio, you like it immediately. You turn up the volume to full blast! The melody, the lyrics, and the beat just make you feel like dancing!

Whenever, Wherever is such a song.

I played the CD whenever I had the chance and wherever I could.

Moreover Shakira is an absolutely gorgeous girl. And so talented! She wrote the music with a guy named Tim Mitchell. Called Suerte in Spanish, Shakira wrote the lyrics. But for the English language version, she co-wrote the lyrics with Gloria M. Estefan.

I was so looking forward to impersonating Shakira!

Producer Ted Walters pulled a few strings. He contacted the producers of the Mike Howard Show, a popular talk show on the Comedy Network.

It was the right time for promoting ECSTASY. The fall schedule was just beginning. Our debut show would begin airing in a few days.

As far as Canadian viewers were concerned, I was an unknown comic.

If I did well in my appearance on the Mike Howard Show, I might create a buzz that could attract new viewers to tune in to ECSTASY. And maybe our old fans would forget I was replacing Steve Perry, the star who had left for greater glory in the United States.

The plan was for me to appear near the beginning of the show as Shakira. I'd do my singing impression, change, take off the makeup and reappear later as myself.

I liked the idea.

Appearing in front of a live audience was the one thing I had missed since I began working at ECSTASY. I loved the applause! I loved the instantaneous feedback! I loved the interaction!

Taped in Vancouver, the studio for the Mike Howard Show was located near False Creek, on the site of the old Expo 86. Vancouver had hosted the World's Fair back in 1986.

I had to get up early in the morning. The Mike Howard Show began taping at noon, but I had to begin getting into the makeup and costume long before that.

At my normal work studio in suburban Burnaby, I sat in the usual "barber chair" for my transformation.

I relaxed and closed my eyes as Daniel applied the false boobs to my chest. He lined up the nipples of the falsies a little off center of my own nipples, then pressed the latex breasts onto my chest. He held them there for about thirty seconds, giving the adhesive time to set.

Then I donned the usual protective smock.

As I relaxed half asleep in the red padded chair, Daniel went through that close shave routine with a straight razor. No problemo.

Next, he put a tight nylon wig cap on my head to keep my hair from spilling out. I needed a haircut soon. I hadn't cut it for three months.

Stifling a few yawns as Daniel smoothed on some moisturizing cream, I tried to think of Shakira. As he applied the slightly darker than usual cake foundation makeup, I closed my eyes and let him work with the sponges and brushes.

Daniel kept looking at the color photo of Shakira and then at my face.

"There are these golden tones to her complexion in the photograph. It's quite glamorous," noted Daniel. Fortunately she has a kind of round face with a firm jaw. We won't have to do much contour shading."

'Whatever,' I thought. I didn't pay much attention to Daniel's comments. I was still trying to continue that beautiful dream I was having when the clock radio went off an hour earlier.

"Sorry honey," interrupted Daniel, "but I need you to open your eyes for a moment."

"Uh huh."

"I should have done this earlier. We need to insert contact lenses. Shakira appears, at least in this photo, to have black eyes. That's such a rarity. But we're trying to match this photo."

Having used color contacts for some of the previous transformations, I knew the routine well. I managed the subtle dip and dab procedure as quickly as I could.

I closed my eyes. Then I blinked a few times and looked at myself in the mirror.

Wow! The black contacts really enlarged my eyes! It looked as if I didn't have irises. Just large dark pupils.

It was quite a dramatic change. I looked at the color photo of Shakira. Was that one of the secrets of her exotic beauty?

Lost in thought, I sat back in the comfy chair. Then I closed my eyes again and relaxed and tried to dream of what it would be like to be Shakira!

I could feel Daniel using a glue stick to tame my eyebrows. He went through the usual application of a covering makeup to hide my male eyebrows.

He used a brown pencil to shape the eyebrow and then added some golden tones with another eyebrow pencil on top of that.

Next he set to work on applying the eyeliner, mascara, false eyelashes and then the eye shadow.

Lip liner was next. He brushed on the coral lipstick carefully. One might have suspected I had collagen injections after Daniel applied the lip gloss. It had the scent and taste of strawberries.

He applied blush to the cheeks. With a large soft brush, he blended the color subtly like an artist painting a sunset on canvas.

Daniel looked carefully at the photo of Shakira and then back at me.

He extracted a darker foundation makeup from his "tackle box" and applied it high on the forehead with a deft touch of a small triangular sponge.

"Like you, Shakira has a large forehead. She uses a dark foundation to make it appear smaller."

Daniel applied some of the dark foundation along my jaw line to diminish its size.

I heard May's voice.

I opened my eyes.

"Looking fabulous!" enthused May. "As usual."

She hugged me.

We didn't kiss though. It would have upset Daniel if he had to fix the lipstick.

Now Daniel held a long curly blonde wig in his hands.

I got up from the chair. I bowed my head as Daniel placed the crowning glory on my head.

The blonde curls reached past the middle of my back. I tossed my head back and finger brushed the hair away from my face.

Then I looked in the mirror.

"Fabulous, Daniel! Simply gorgeous!" I exclaimed. "I love it! This is the best yet!"

"I think he's got it! By Jove, I think she's got it!" enthused Daniel in his best Professor Henry Higgins impression.

And I felt exactly like Eliza Doolittle in My Fair Lady! I had been transformed by skilled professionals! I was now ready for my debut!

***

Even though the Mike Howard Show staff was very accommodating, I was extremely nervous while I waited offstage.

The butterflies were giving me acid indigestion.

This was an important opportunity for me and the whole ECSTASY Show. This was my big shot on national television!

I kept reassuring myself that I was well prepared. And that was all I could ask for. If things went well, my appearance could jumpstart our whole television season.

May's handiwork in assembling the costume was absolutely perfect!

I wore a very revealing silvery lace camisole, the style with the straps tied behind my neck. My 'Shakira' boobs were shown to great effect! The patterns in the lace were well placed to cover the large dark nipples of my false breasts. My narrow waist, down to 24 inches, was slim and trim, thanks to that training corset, the rabbit diet, and the relentless stomach exercises. Black leather pants, laced up in the front, with a large silver belt and silver buckle completed the ensemble. And May had inserted extra padding to round out my posterior.

There was a golden glow to the skin, courtesy of Daniel's bronzing tan makeup.

As always, the Mike Howard Show began with the host going through his opening monologue. He usually did some audience interaction shtick too. The crowd seemed to be warming up nicely. The opening segment was supposed to last five minutes.

Through the wing curtains, I could see Mike's desk, his comfy chair, an armchair for his guest on the hot-seat, and a couch. The furniture was not located in the center of the stage. It was offset to allow for guest performances.

Nervously, I kept running through the song and the dance routine in my mind. The choreography had been worked out with Julien Allard again. But this time I wouldn't be able to follow his lead and mimic every move. I'd be on my own. Totally on my own.

Before I knew it, Mike Howard was announcing who would be appearing on 'tonight's' show.

There was a commercial break. Ninety seconds to show time.

The assistant handed me a microphone. It was one of those large cordless mikes.

Then, on my silver stilettos, I entered the backstage area. Near the center, I had to pull aside and then restore a canvas flap that served as the entranceway to a large tent-like structure. Since we had had a run through earlier, I knew exactly what to do.

I moved to my mark behind a huge dark drop screen. There was a special apparatus within the tent envelope that required the build up of air pressure to produce its visual effect.

It was very cool and isolated as I stood waiting patiently and quietly, in the middle of a brewing storm.

"Welcome back," said Mike Howard. "Ladies and gentleman, last season ECSTASY was a big hit here on the Comedy Channel. This season they are back bigger and better than ever! Tonight we have a new performer here from the ECSTASY show. This performer does fabulous impersonations! Please welcome Sean Davidson as Shakira!"

In the entire auditorium, the lights suddenly went down. Then two converging spotlights burst onto center stage as the main curtains parted and the giant 'fly' screen rose dramatically. A cool mist billowed out from beneath the restraining confines.

The audience started applauding. As I strode forward amidst the blinding beams, swirling clouds of dry ice, and flashing laser effects, the three hundred or so spectators went wild! They started cheering like I was the real Shakira!

Then the crowd quieted as a lone musician, illuminated by a tight spotlight, strummed his charango.

I started humming.

The sound of congas, drums, a bass, a mandolin, guitars, maracas and a Quena flute all joined the party.

Imitating the music video choreography, I wind milled my arms about and then set my hands on my hips, arms akimbo. My leather-encased bubble butt quivered to the rhythm of the pulsing percussion. I felt sexy and free!

"Awoo!" I howled Shakira-like. "Awoo!"

Swinging the microphone from my left hand to my right, I sang,

"Lucky you were born that far away so

We could both make fun of distance

Lucky that I love a foreign land for

The lucky fact of your existence"

The faces looked captivated as Shakira jiggled and gyrated! I reached skyward and my voice soared!

"Baby I would climb the Andes solely

To count the freckles on your body

Never could imagine there were only

Ten million ways to love somebody"

The band rocked the house and people stood up to dance. Front and center, hands joined together, a gaggle of gals swayed back and forth to the beat.

"Le do lo le lo le,
Le do lo le lo le
Can't you see
I'm at your feet."

A row of young guys raised their arms up, leaned forward from the waist and did the "I'm not worthy" bow.

"Whenever, wherever
We're meant to be together
I'll be there and you'll be near
And that's the deal my dear"

As I pivoted to display my Shakira form, swiveling hips, undulating stomach, swinging arms, and quivering tits, I looked toward Mike Howard. There was a huge grin on his face!

He followed the audience's lead. He jumped up and began dancing!

"Thereover, hereunder
You'll never have to wonder
We can always play by ear
But that's the deal my dear"

The whole crowd frolicked frantic ecstatic in the aisles! It was a Shakira dance party!

With arms high above their heads, the front row gals bumped buns sweet and tarty.

Then Mike Howard joined me center stage, and we began to boogie. Grasping my hand above his head, we did a series of in synch steps, cuddles and spin moves! His impromptu star turn drove the celebration into a higher and higher groove!

"Lucky that my lips not only mumble
They spill kisses like a fountain
Lucky that my breasts are small and humble
So you don't confuse them with mountains
Lucky that I have strong legs like my mother
To run for cover when I need it
And these two eyes that for no other
The day you leave will cry a river"

Caught up in the pandemonium, I sang and danced like a spirit possessed. Me sentia como la encarnacion de Shakira.

"Le do lo le lo le,
Le do lo le lo le
At your feet
I'm at your feet"

Descending stairs from the stage with trim lights aglow, I boogied briefly with students in the first row.

"Whenever, wherever
We're meant to be together
I'll be there and you'll be near
And that's the deal my dear"

Then in time with the pulsing beat, I climbed the aisle way into the seats.

"Thereover, hereunder
You'll never have to wonder
We can always play by ear
And that's the deal my dear"

I danced in the stands, reaching out, touching hands, touching hearts, thrilling fans!

"Le do lo le do le
Le do lo le do le
Think out loud
Say it again"

As Shakira crossed the back of the theatre, the last row reached out hopeful to greet her.

"Le do lo le lo le lo le
Tell me one more time
That you'll live
Lost in my eyes"

Descending the stairs, I mixed and mingled with crazed couples and singles!

"Whenever, wherever
We're meant to be together
I'll be there and you'll be near
And that's the deal my dear"

Ascending the stage, into the final phase.

"Thereover, hereunder
You've got me head over heels
There's nothing left to fear
If you really feel the way I feel"

Swinging my arms about, shaking my booty, singing my heart out, turned on by beauty!

"Whenever, wherever
We're meant to be together
I'll be there and you'll be near
And that's the deal my dear
You'll never have to wonder
And that's the deal my dear"

The music transformed me! I felt so sexy and free! Sacudari mis pechos y caderas como maracas para todos los muchachos y muchachas.

"They're over, you're under
You've got me head over heels
There's nothing left to fear
If you really feel the way I feel"

As the music slowed and the lights dimmed, I pirouetted with my arms fully outstretched. Spinning a second time, I brought my arms in tight to the body and then wound downward on the third turn. When the music of the Quena flute slowed to a halt, I curled into a little ball, enveloped in the swirling mists of a fresh blast of 'smoke.' The spotlights faded to black!

The audience burst into thunderous applause!

Bedlam! Madness! Hysteria!

Then as I rose, gracefully whirling my arms outward and skyward as the lights came back up, I finally lifted my arms up high in triumph!

Jubilation! Exhiliration!

Then I bowed deeply!

I waved to the crowd! I blew kisses to the cheering throng! "Gracias!" I mouthed to the wildly appreciative crowd.

I felt like the embodiment of Shakira!

To thank the outstanding band, I extended my left arm toward the five musicians, presenting them to the audience. That was greeted by additional hoots and hollers!

The proud band members bowed humbly.

I blew more kisses, one final bow, a last wave! Then I was offstage.

The people yelled and screamed for more! As the house lights came up, the fans went crazy! Yelling and screaming "Shakira! Shakira!" The crowd stamped their feet and chanted "Shakira! Shakira! Shakira!"

"She'll be back later, ladies and gentlemen!" exclaimed Mike Howard. "We have to take a break.

I was on cloud nine! I swear my feet weren't touching the ground anymore! I was flying!

It couldn't have been any better! It was ECSTASY!

In the wings, Daniel and May showered me with hugs and kisses.

"That was fabulous!" exclaimed May.

"What a great performance, Shakira!" enthused Daniel.

"You were born to play the part!" added May with another kiss. "They loved you!"

"Thanks," I said as I held both May and Daniel in my arms. "I couldn't have done it without your help."

Then there was a fourth set of hands that joined the group hug!

"Brilliant! Absolutely wonderful!"

"Dave!"

I turned to face him.

Dave held me in his arms. He squeezed me tight. We kissed!

The kiss took my breath away! I melted in his embrace.

It wasn't one of those show business style pecks on both cheeks.

It was a lover's kiss! The Sex and the City kind!

 

CHAPTER 13

Coming back from a commercial break, Mike Howard had to reintroduce me.

"Earlier in the show, we had a guest appearance from that fabulous singing sensation Shakira! But, as you know, it really wasn't Shakira. It was the newest member of that hit comedy show ECSTASY. Here once again is Sean Davidson."

The audience started applauding wildly until I stepped out onto the stage.

Then they quieted down suddenly. They sat in stunned silence.

Without the wig, makeup, camisole and leather pants, I was plain old Sean Davidson.

The lively house band struck up a few chords of Boy George's the Crying Game. There was an ominous tone about that song.

Mike Howard greeted me with a two-handed handshake, and nodded to me to sit in the big armchair closest to his desk.

Mike was a large man, built like a linebacker. He had a blond-gray crew cut, a square jaw, a few wrinkles showing his 45 years of life on planet Earth, and an ever-present impish smile on his face. Attired in a handsome Hugo Boss suit, he looked very fit and healthy.

Standing next to him, in a black turtleneck, dark jacket and black pants, I looked rather thin and tiny.

The Crying Game theme stopped abruptly.

"I think our audience must be in shock. I think they were expecting someone else," said Mike, trying to make light of the subdued reaction.

"Apparently so," I mumbled meekly as I settled into the very soft, cream colored leather seat.

"Sean, let's have a look at a replay of your earlier appearance as Shakira."

The studio audience looked to the large monitors placed at the sides of the stage.

When the technical crew pressed a button, the freeze frame of Shakira suddenly leapt into action. The Whenever, Wherever chorus rocked the house! The crowd danced up a storm as sexy Shakira sang like a seraph! Her angelic voice soared to the heavens! Shakira shook her chakras like maracas! Her divine dance lifted the spirit and stirred the soul!

It was fascinating! And spooky! I really did look and sound like Shakira!

The video confirmed it! Without doubt, it was my best performance ever!

When the tape faded to black, the audience burst into enthusiastic applause again.

"That was great!" praised Mike.

"Thank you. And your band was terrific! They were Hot! Hot! Hot!!"

Mike extended his arm in the direction of the band. "Let's have a big hand for the Wayne Jackson Five!"

The audience cheered and applauded once again.

As the crowd quieted, Mike remarked, "You looked exactly like Shakira. It was amazing! How do you do that?"

"My makeup artist, Daniel Roberts, tells me I've got one of those symmetrical faces. Or, in easier to understand terms, I've got a rubber face that can look like a lot of different people."

"If the audience would look at the video screens for a moment, you'll see some of his other disguises."

Photos of me as Britney Spears, Meg Ryan, Sharon Stone and Kim Cattrall flashed up on the monitors. The audience responded with oohs and ahs. Then there was some boisterous applause and cheering.

"I must say you look like a sexy, beautiful woman," said Mike Howard sincerely. "There were many in the audience who were unaware that Sean Davidson, the Shakira impersonator, wasn't a real female."

"Thank you. When you reintroduced me, the crowd was so deadly quiet, I thought they were about to throw bricks at me."

The audience responded with a brief laugh.

"So tell us, because I'm sure a lot of people are curious, what happens when say, you are shooting a scene for the ECSTASY Show, you're on location, and you're dressed as a girl, and some guy hits on you. Let's say he asks you for a date."

"Hmmm . . . it hasn't happened yet. We've only shot five weeks for the new fall schedule."

"Well, what do you think you'll do when it does happen?"

"If he really doesn't know I'm a guy, wouldn't it be fun to string him along as a gag, and set him up for a really embarrassing moment of discovery?" I suggested with a devilish smile. "Surprise! Surprise!"

"With his pants down, I wonder, will he want to hit you or kiss you?"

The audience burst out in laughter.

"'A dangerous game, Mike!"

"It's the Crying Game!"

The ever-alert band suddenly struck up a few bars of the Boy George song.

The audience applauded wildly! Giddily!

"Well, I'm dating someone now, so I'd probably just be honest and let the person know right away that this gorgeous girl is just an illusion . . . But you never know."

"ECSTASY has an all male cast," said Mike. "Why doesn't ECSTASY just hire some real girls?"

"It wouldn't be as funny maybe. Besides, if the producer, Ted Walters, did that, I wouldn't be here on stage with you tonight."

"I hear the amazing thing is, until you began working at the ECSTASY show a month ago, you had never worked in drag before," said Mike.

"That's right. I did vocal impressions of famous stars in scenes from films like Austin Powers, Forrest Gump or Ace Ventura. Or I did singers like Elvis, Bruce Springsteen and some girls like Britney Spears, Celine Dion and Shakira. But impressions were not the main part of my act. I come from a stand up comedy background . . . I know you used to do that too."

"Yes, for many years. More years than I care to remember. In fact, I felt like I'd been buried deeper than King Tut - dead, mummified, entombed and buried by the shifting desert sands."

"I guess another reason ECSTASY didn't hire a female comedian is that there are very few female comics on the circuit. If ten comics appear at a comedy club, one or maybe two of them at most, are women."

"Why is that?" asked Mike.

"They don't have the balls?" The crowd went silent, like I had said something extremely offensive. "I can't believe I said that on national television. I just offended at least half the audience and my mother."

"You expect me to step in and rescue you, don't you?"

"What I mean is that life on the road as a stand up comedian can drive away all but the very desperate."

"Yes. I know what you mean," nodded Mike.

"You'll be playing some mining town in Northern Ontario where the word 'roughneck' is what they use to describe elementary school kids. The guys up there are rough and tough. No place for a lady. One trip up there and the women don't want to do the comedy club circuit anymore."

"I played a lot of those tough towns. It's where you're likely to get a beer bottle thrown at you if they don't like your jokes."

"Also, you have to look at the comedy club environment too. If you're a female, you might follow five male comics. They've established the tone for the evening. Male stand up comics are high-energy guys. They're very rude. They swear a hell of a lot! They tell dirty disgusting jokes. Many of the jokes are at the toilet humor level, about basic body dysfunctions. They say shocking things that you wouldn't want your mother to hear. Racial humor is common. They hurl insults at every minority group! Every taboo topic of society is laid bare. They rant and rave just like I'm doing now! It's not a normal conversational environment!" I looked up at the audience. They seemed to be with me. "Then on comes this female comedian, and her voice is quieter. She is a reminder of the normal double standards of society outside of the comedy club. Some of the guys in the audience start to feel guilty and uneasy. Her humor is subtle. Her appeal might be intellectual. But the guys in the club have been drinking, and in an alcoholic fog, their intellect button is turned off. So if the comedienne's first jokes flop, it's hard to win back the beer-guzzling crowd."

"So you have developed some sympathy for female comics now that, literally, you've walked miles in their high-heeled shoes," noted Mike.

"Yes," I replied with a laugh. "As a matter of fact, every time we dream up a new skit for ECSTASY, I always seem to end up playing a girl's role."

"That's because you look so damned beautiful!" said Mike.

The audience applauded and cheered his compliment, hooting and hollering and whistling to show their approval.

"Thank you."

And as our conversation continued, I identified more and more with the newly discovered female aspect of my personality. I realized that I had enjoyed performing as a gal much more than I ever had as a guy.

As a male comedian, I could never get enough laughs. My appetite for crowd approval was insatiable. But as a female, admiration for my beauty gave me tremendous satisfaction. It was so weird!

From the moment I first dawned high heels, the choices I made seemed to work out right. Intuitively I knew what to do.

Maybe I had finally found my niche in the wide world of entertainment. Sean Davidson - female impersonator!

 

CHAPTER 14

I am standing in front of a full-length mirror in the bedroom.

The blonde curls cascade over a lovely visage. My clear blue eyes are my best feature. My high cheekbones, flawless complexion and inviting, kissable lips are a narcissist's dream.

I am wearing a 'little black dress.' With a plunging neckline, it reveals full sexy melon shaped breasts. My tiny waist, wide womanly hips, long, shapely to-die-for legs, and 5 inch stiletto heels complete the package.

Around my thin, elegant neck, I attach a gold 'name necklace' that says 'Sean,' a gift from May. I struggle momentarily with the clasp because of my long smooth false fingernails.

The gold necklace matches the golden studs in my freshly pierced earlobes.

My flawless complexion glows golden in the soft light of the bedroom.

The gorgeous girl in the mirror is really me! Sean Davidson.

I must confess dressing in drag is such a turn-on. I love the feel of the whisper thin silky nylons on my smooth sensuous legs. And my shapely calves are shown to great advantage by the stilettos. Also I adore the way my short dress reveals my sexy thighs and hints at a treasure trove of heavenly delight beneath my black lace panties. Rubbing my legs together almost stimulates my stick shift into overdrive. The temptation to lower my panties and the flesh colored gaff is so intense! I want to relieve myself of the ache in my loins!

Should I or shouldn't I?

The bosom looks so real! The soft flesh that peeks out from the illusionary Wonder Bra and low cut neckline of the 'little black dress' is almost enough to persuade me to spring into action.

There is a knock at the door of my apartment.

No time to dither. I must hurry. One last touch, I spray Obsession into the air. Then I walk through the fine mist. The scent is heavenly!

I grab my purse as I hurry to answer the door.

There is another knock. A sign of impatience?

There, in the entry vestibule, I pause to take one last look in the full-length mirror panels of the hallway closet.

Delicious! Delectable! And undetectable!

When I open the door, there is a look of surprise and delight on Dave's face.

I open my arms. He gathers me up in his arms. We hug and he squeezes the air out of me.

He looks at me tenderly.

We kiss.

It is a union of two people drawn together by lust.

There is this feeling of déjà vu. I am crossing over to the Dark Side.

In a half-hour, we will be in downtown Vancouver. We'll be at Tatooine, a trendy new club, dancing the night away.

This is my first date with Dave. I don't know how it will go. But I know we have some unfinished business to attend to.

I am certain that he adores me. His eyes tell me so. And I think the world of him.

But what about May? Doesn't she deserve better?

Well, it was her idea. She said I had to give the female side of my personality a chance to blossom.

Besides, I'm looking forward to going out with May next weekend. We still have to check out that lesbian dance club.

And who knows? There just might be a ménage a trois in our future.

Que sera sera.

 

THE END

 

 

 

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© 2002 by Laurie S. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.