The Night - Chapter 3

He looked at the clock. Eight PM. Maybe he did have the energy to dress again tonight. He would not be attending his mystery man's party, but that didn't mean he couldn't have fun by himself, did it?

He was her again. Every fiber of his body seemed charged. Transformed. The sensations of the tight clothing. The smells of the make-up. The perfumes and tingles. The jangles of the long earrings and bracelets. The feel of the stockings under his gloved caresses.

Yes. He was definitely her again. And he found himself out on the balcony again. Soaking in the sensations of the night. Drunk with the feel of it all. With the taste of womanhood he was experiencing. And knowing that on this very balcony some 'Don Juan' had fallen for his image of a woman, only made it all that much more intoxicating. That much more erotic. That much more powerful. He was a woman. A believable, passable woman. And he had proof!

He stoked his bare arms. Let the breezes caress his legs. Let his long black hair fall onto his shoulders and cascade down his back.

He jumped when there was a knock on his door. Sinking back into the shadows as the danger of his situation flooded back to him: A man dressed as a woman in a foreign city.

The knock came again. "Room service", a voice said.

Room service? I didn't order any room service. He crept to the door and looked out the peep-hole. A bell-hop with a tray on his up-raised hand. "Room service", he repeated.

"Um, yes. Just leave it by the door, please."

"You must sign."

"O.K. um. Give me a minute.....OK just bring it in. I'll be in the bathroom." He leapt into the bathroom as he unlocked the door. The bell-hop did not see him. He listened at the door as the tray was put on the table accompanied by a soft cacophony of clangs.

"Please sign sir?" The Bell-hop asked through the closed door.

"Right. Just slip it under the door here?"

The bill slid under the door with a pen. He signed and put on a generous tip, slid it back out and listened as the bell hop left.

He cautiously opened the bathroom door, peering around, to find that he was alone again. And on the table was a dark smoky drink in a cut crystal glass, a vase with a single red rose and a note.

"Come." was all it said. "Come."

He was a bit un-nerved and angry all at the same time. Who does this guy think he is?! Who was this guy?! The nerve!

He sat, crossing his legs. Then noticing how effortlessly he had just impersonated a feminine move. How shapely his legs were. The feel of the stockings rubbing against one another. He absent-mindedly picked up the drink. Sipped it. Angry again suddenly at the intrusion of this phantom man.

Scotch? No. He tasted it again. Not quite. But similar. Tasty. He drank again. The warmth of the liquor spreading through him as his absent-minded stroking of his leg began to send sensual waves up and down his spine. Make him feel erotic.

He picked up the note. "Come". Come indeed he thought. He stood and crossed the room to the key which had been sent, catching a glimpse of himself in the full length mirror. He paused and looked. Really looked. Could he pull off this deception in public? Could he pass?

He felt so. He thought so. "Why not?" he said out loud. Hearing his own voice brought the entire affair to a crashing halt. The voice of a man. Not the sultry voice of the woman he thought he was seeing in the mirror.

He sat back down and took another drink somewhat disappointed that he could not pull off the deception. That he could not go on this mysterious date. He sipped again. The drink would give him courage or at the very least, make him drunk enough to believe in the mirror, not his voice. He gulped the drink. All gone.

Time to fix his lipstick. To feel the clothing constricting his body. Feel the sensuous sensations as he moved. To experience being a woman, the ultimate experience in his mind.

When he came out of the bathroom he found another note on the floor. He opened it.

"Come. Have no fear. Come. If you are afraid then meet me in the bar. I will be there for twenty minutes beginning at 10:40. I will make myself known. Please, do come."

This time it was signed with an initial, "A."

"Go to a public bar", he thought. "Not bloody likely!"