The Luckiest Man
By Kim Shaw
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I put on the animal print top and then from my bag a dangerously short skirt that only just covered the stocking tops. I couldn't believe this. I was about to walk down stairs and face two whistling, laughing women wearing the sort of clothes that had never left the safety of my house and present myself to them. The last touches were some Pat Butcher like jewellery and a pair of Lady DI high heels - a genuine mix of cheap tat and expensive shoes.
Their faces when I opened the door and tottered in were a picture - both Jen and Andrea were screaming with laughter as they sat me down and teased me and admired, jealously in Andrea's case, my legs. They didn't shave them, luckily I'm fair haired, but they did go to work on my face and cover me with silky foundation and lashings of mascara, lipstick, eye shadow etc. They were having more fun that I was. Finally the long blond wig I had brought from Transformation was placed on my head and arranged to look deliciously feminine and an overly generous spray of perfume was aimed at me and then I was ready. Ready for a night out with no keys, my money handed over, no male clothes, no surrender, total reliance on my two friends (why do women seem to love humiliating and titillating men like this) and no way home until they said so.
Fantastic.
Who ever has been out for a walk dressed up will know that stomach knotting feeling of apprehension, especially when the seconds drag by as someone walks towards you, or drives past, but suddenly, no matter how "interesting" I looked no one was really paying me much attention. There was no way that I could be 100% disguised but people just weren't paying me any attention - at least not to my face. The British sense of reserve is a wonderful thing.
And then before I really knew it the short drive was over and we were in the queue to get into the club, chatting and Joking and still no one seemed to pay me much attention and then I was paying for my entrance ticket and then walking into the bar and then "Well, hello there!"
The DJ had spotted me, oh yes, and to him I was a perfect target. "Look at the gorgeous girl who's just walked in." Ok, it's roughly half eight and the place only had about a hundred people in it but that's 200 hundred eyes staring at me. Oh my God. The fear instantly rose. There was a big bunch of guys at the bar already getting drunk. I expected to get through the night relatively unscathed but this could go anywhere.
Jen seized the moment perfectly and went up to him and said I had lost a bet on the England - Argentina World Cup football match and this was my punishment (if only you knew Jen, If only you knew.) an then the DJ got really mischievous - as did Jen as she conspired to win me a bottle of champagne from the DJ if I danced on the stage with her - IN FRONT OF EVERYONE. The wind from the smoke machine nearly raised the skirt to new heights as I was paraded on the stage and made to dance with Jen as Andrea took photograph after photograph. It was then that the fire alarm went off and Jen decided that now might be a good time to pull my wig off. Jen! People from my work come to this place! But she resisted the temptation and I got my bottle of champers - but we could hardly drink it for laughing so much. Any tension I had left disappeared as the alcohol flowed and from then on it was non stop and I was on the dance floor, in the ladies toilet (when I needed to pee), in the arms of a Thai girl who thought I was very sexy (this is all true), back on stage with a hen night from Rayleigh, getting chatted up by a very excited gay bloke, dancing with Jen and Andrea and some other girls, having more make up and perfume applied and then, finally being allowed to relax and sit down with a more manly pint of beer at some time around 1:30 and then "I'm starving. Let's go to the local store and get some food." Said Jen.
This was getting bizarre and bizarrer still! By two thirty we were walking round the 24 hr store in Brighton in and out of the aisles while Jen looks for cheese and onion pasties and Andrea for some sandwiches and then having negotiated the giggling girl on the till who could only just find the composure to scan the items we had bought, I had to sit with the girls in full view of the late night shoppers while they sat and ate them. What a night for the staff of the store!
All the time, I was made to feel like a princess, but a naughty one who had to do what her wicked aunts demanded.
Bliss.
Finally, closer to three, I was dropped off home and we sat and giggled and laughed and recounted what an amazing night it was. If it were transvestite fiction I imagine this would be where the kinky sex scene would be put but there was none of that. Just a gentle end to a thrilling night.
My wife was so happy to see me home unmolested and un-beaten-up but she thought the whole thing was hilarious and wants to come out again next time. They'll definitely be a next time, but maybe not to that club again.
Kim Shaw.
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