Date: Sun, 29 Sep 2013 14:47:18 -0400
From: sissi lesli <tvlesli@gmail.com>
Subject: Young Times - transgendered - part IV

Young Times Part IV

I was still a little drunk from last night's party, still a little high for
the joint I consumed, hot from thinking about last night's action, and more
than a little horny from the thirty plus year old memories of my start as a
tranny streetwalker.  All those `little' things led to a `big' decision
about going to work.  I had done this before, I knew it worked.  The three
adult bookstores on Williamson road were in a straight line between where I
was and where I worked, but even if I didn't stop by my apartment time was
extremely tight.  No, I would have to employ my old standby stalling
tactic, and I had my cellphone open and dialing before I completely made up
my mind.

`Holiday Inn, housekeeping, Carla speaking, how may I help you?'

`Carla'

`Lesli, what's up?'

`Carla, I'm having car trouble, I may be a little late this morning' I
lied.

`Car trouble, OK, how long do you......wait a minute...........Jimmy says
if you have battery trouble he can come over and jump you.'  Jimmy's
infantile joke.

`I think I need about an hour or so.'

`OK Lesli, no problem.  Jimmy's here and I can put him on the early
checkouts but you'll have to work the late rooms to make up for this
morning.'

`No problem.  Thanks Carla.  Oh, tell Jimmy I'm not sure he could handle a
girl like me!'

`You got it babe, no problem.'

There, I had at least an hour and a half to dedicate to finding relief at
the bookstores.  If I was lucky it would only take one, but with an hour
and a half, I could afford to be choosey.  I rifled through the sheets on
the floor until I came up with my black bra and thong, slipping my tee and
mini on over them, ran a hand through my hair and a quick touch up to my
lip gloss.  No time for more makeup or an enema, but, at this hour the
morning crowd wasn't too picky.  I slipped on my sandals, threw my bag over
my shoulder and headed for the door.

The sunlight I had expected to greet me wasn't there.  Thank God.  Because
the dim overcast of the day was enough to cause my head to hurt.  I dug in
my bag for my sunglasses and the sweet relief they afforded.  My car was in
the parking lot, 3 doors down and I fished my keys out and opened it.
Slipping behind the wheel, I checked the rest of the lot.  At this time of
morning there were still quite a few cars there, and I imagined the maids
weren't going to have much to do except drink coffee til some of the sleepy
heads decided to get up and going.  No cars that I recognized.  The drive
from the truck stop to the northernmost ABS on Williamson takes about
fifteen minutes, but at this time of morning the commuters are headed in
the same direction, so I wasted twenty five minutes getting there.  There
were only two cars in the side parking lot but that really doesn't mean
much, the store backs up to a repair shop with a residential neighborhood
behind it.  Some store patrons park in the neighborhood and walk to store
so their cars aren't visible to the traffic on Williamson.  Not me, I
pulled into the streetside parking lot fronting Williamson.  My old red
Datsun is known in the city and I want anyone looking to know where I am.
It's my identification.

I get out of the car and strut, that's right, strut to the front door.  I'm
still high, and I enjoy putting on a show for the commuters.  I make a
mental note that I'm going to have to re tuck because this show I put on
tickled my exhibitionist streak and I feel a stiffy down there!

`Hey Stav' I call out to the kid behind the counter `how's it going?'  Stav
is third generation ABS, his grandfather opened the place back in the
heyday of smut dealers, and the family has run it since.  It's my favorite
store because of their lack of attitude.  They run a halfway clean place,
reasonably priced for the working stiffs, and ask only that the sex stay
confined to the booths.  Stav, unlike his father, let's me come and go as I
please without charging me admission.  Everyone else has to purchase a
minimum of $5 in tokens to watch the movies.  Stav considers me an
`attraction' that keeps some of the guys coming back.

`Hi Lesli' he responds `going good, so far.  Couple guys back there' as he
motions with his head to the entrance.  `And James' referring to the gay
black kid that's here at least three times a day.

`Cool' I say as I walk past the counter and into the dark entrance.  `I'm
famished'

`Must be gonna eat back there, huh/â€

`Nuts, weenies, and cream Stav' I joke `breakfast of champions!'

As I walk past the preview board toward `my' corner of the arcade I notice
a big, country looking dude looking over the board.  He focuses on me as I
give an extra little wiggle to my step.  I'm thinking this could have
potential.  I round the corner and see James leaning against the wall at
the `13' booth.

`Hey James' I greet him `who's Mr Big there?'

"Ummm' James sighs, batting his eyes like a love sick puppy `he is a hunk,
isn't he.  Looking for a piece of ass he says,.  Raw.â€

`Damn, why don't people wise up to that.  Don't they know people die from
that.  Shit, dumb mother fucker' I spat.

`Alright, alright mother, we've all heard your rant against unprotected
anal.  The smart ones aren't doing it.'

`Well, the smart ones did it years ago, and I've lost more friends than I
want to think about to it.'

`Yes mother' he deadpanned.

`Fuck you James, I say as I walk on past him toward `my' corner, `when
you've lost friends to that disease, you'll know what I mean.'.

I call it my corner because it's in a darker part of the arcade and
provides a clear view down two aisles at once, so I can see someone first
coming in the arcade and someone coming out.  I seem to attract attention
first as they come in and then, if they want what they see, they circle
around and hit on me in the corner.  I can also keep an eye on eight booth
doors from this vantage point.

I spy Mr Big at one corner looking at me, and decide to stay put,
remembering what James has told me.  And as I stand there, anxiously
awaiting the next willing dick, the memories flood
back......................


Young Times (the between years) part IV

As surprised as Bill was to see me standing on the corner, chatting with
Mandy, he was even more surprised to hear about my beating.  Mandy supplied
him an adequate description of my assailant to the point he was sure he
knew who it was.  He assured us that he would deal with him.

And Mandy assured him that she would make sure I was protected by the other
hookers here on the street.  I think she was just thankful that Bill wasn't
blaming her for my misfortune.  Cookie, had she been there, would probably
blamed a good portion of it on the fact that Mandy and her friend had
shunned me and left me alone to fend for myself away from the relative
safety of the street light.

Bill was perceptive enough to know that I had been hurt by the beating,
both physically and emotionally and called an end to my first successful
outing as a hooker.  He drove me back to the house and told me to clean up
and get some rest while he went back to the street look after Cookie.  I
suspected that he was also going to be on the lookout for the nigger who
beat me up.  He could kill him for all I cared.

As tired and sore as I was, the sex had excited me and the sight that
greeted me in the mirror caused my dick to harden.  Lipstick was smeared
across my face from my mouth to my ear.  The entire right side of my face
was flushed red.  My top lip was starting to swell, and blood was caked
inside one nostril.  I looked like a mess.  And it turned me on!

As I stripped and ran a bath, I reflected on the beating.  I had been
beaten up in high school, mostly slaps and such, but never with the force
and hatred I'd experienced tonight.  It scarred me to think that I was that
defenseless, given that I was going to be on the streets among people who
took advantage of other, weaker, people.  It was then that I realized the
seriousness of what I was doing.  This wasn't high school, this was real
life, the reality that went along with anonymous sex on the street.  And it
turned me on!  What the fuck was happening to me?  Why did I feel so turned
on by what happened, by the way I looked in the mirror?  By the way I
looked, completely naked except for these fucking high heels?

I slipped the heels off and stepped into the bath, reclining until only my
head and shoulders remained out of the water.  The warm water felt good on
my naked skin, and soon I found myself coming down from the emotional
roller coaster of sex and violence.  It also helped sooth the slight ache I
still felt in my ass, and before I knew it my left hand involuntarily
sought out, and found, the tenderness of my hole.  It was still slightly
stretched from fucking and the water provided just the lubrication I needed
to slip one finger slightly inside, just to the first knuckle.  It felt so
good that I couldn't resist the temptation to slide a second, then a third,
finger inside, ending up with all three inserted as far as they would go.
I let my right hand find my dick and jack it slowly as I simultaneously
finger fucked my asshole.

God, that felt good, and I remember thinking that I if I only had a cock in
my mouth I would be a very very happy camper.  I thought back to Danny's
backseat as I furiously thrust my fingers in and out of my hole, while
wildly beating my meat.  I felt the pressure building in my balls and
increased the tempo, determined to experience the dual pleasure of an
orgasm and a stuffed ass.

It was soon in coming, and I shot my cum in the water, while my three
fingers were completely buried in my rectum.  Now it was my turn to come
down slowly, and I savored every minute of it as my mind replayed the
events of the night.

First there was Danny, a cute guy with a nice car.  The sex was good,
albeit it brief, and I had let myself go wild.  And I was sure I would do
it again if I had the chance.  But I was confused by my role.  I was
convinced that I was queer, and having sex with Danny shouldn't have been
any different that having sex with all those boys and men in high school.
But somehow it was.  Somehow I looked at myself differently.  It didn't
seem queer, it seemed more like `boy-girl' sex, more like what the girls
and boys in my high school did.  Not like sex between me and Donnie, or me
and Stephen, or not even like the sex I had with the black basketball
players at the park, or the sex I had with the men at the gloryhole at the
bus station.  Danny treated me differently.  He treated me, almost, like a
girl, asking me if it was good for me, calling me gorgeous, french kissing
me in my mouth, saying he wanted to see me again.  Very few, if any, of the
men or boys I'd had sex with acted like that.  Was it the clothes, the way
I looked, or had the clothes somehow caused me to act differently.  I know
I felt different.  I mean, all the times I had been with other men, or had
been queering off with Donnie or Stephen, or any of the many boys I had
been with at conservatory, it had been obvious male to male sex.  Queer
sex.  And I had, usually, been the passive participant, the bottom so to
speak.  But now, with Danny, and with the older man, I had felt different,
still the bottom, but it didn't seem like normal queer, male to male, sex.
Had they looked at me differently because I was wearing makeup, lipstick,
and high heels?  Had my appearance fooled them?  I really doubted so, but
they sure hadn't acted like they were picking up a faggot, that they were
having sex with a boy.  Maybe the illusion of my being a girl, just a
little bit, had resonated somehow with what they considered male to female
sex.

There was one thing I was sure of though, I had been very, very aroused by
the what had happened tonight.  From the clothes, the makeup, the danger of
the street, and the sex, all the elements added up to something I thought I
wanted a lot more of.

The whole thing was just too complicated for me to think about now.  I was
tired, I was sore, and sexually satisfied.  Even if I had to satisfy
myself.  No, for tonight I was just going to let the whole thing go.  I
could figure it out later.

No sooner had I slipped beneath the sheets and I was asleep, unaware, no
oblivious, to the events that were transpiring 100 miles west of me that
would have a major impact on me and my future.

While Clarence wasn't cooperating any more than absolutely necessary, the
Bluefield police were putting what little evidence that had together with
surprisingly effective results.  He traveled all over south west Virginia
and southern West Virginia, that was true, but from the records they could
find, he only stayed overnight in one or two places while on the road.
Bluefield, Bristol, and my home town.  It didn't take them long to connect
the dots between those three towns and Roanoke, his home of record.  So
they started sharing information with, and asking questions of, the police
in these locales with respect to cases involving contributing to the
delinquency of a minor, sex with minors (especially homosexual, consenting
or not), or missing or runaway persons.  When my hometown police got into
it, they connected the dots pretty quickly, and that drew a straight line
to Roanoke.

The next day Bill gave in to Cookies nagging and sent her out to get me
some new clothes.  Well, `new' was not exactly what Bill had in mind, but
Cookie had ideas of her own.  As for me, well I had only the pair of
dissected shorts and tee shirt that Cookie had `tailored' for my debut as a
TV streetwalker, and those were the only clothes I had brought from
Clarence's house over three weeks ago.  So, if beggars can't be choosers, I
was in no position to make quibble over the meaning of `new'.  Besides, my
opinion, if it counted at all, meant little.  True, I had made $120 last
night, and while that impressed Bill, it didn't make up for the nearly 4
weeks I had eaten his food and lived in his house.  That he agreed to any
new clothes at all was more to appease Cookie than a testament anything I
said or felt.

Cooke was amazing!  With her knack for shoplifting she could turn Bill's
$20 into a pair of hip hugging short shorts, a pink tee with a heart on the
front, a black bra and panty set, a black thong, a pair of flip flops with
pink straps, and a black sleeveless mini dress with a wide red patent
leather belt.

My heart sank!  Not one pair of jeans, or a shirt, or tennis shoes, only
GIRL clothes.  I wasn't at the point yet where all these clothes excited me
just yet, and the thought crossed my mind that these clothes were designed
to keep me inside during the day and working at night.  The truth was that
there was to be no `normal' life for me and the clothes episode made it
sink in immediately.  I was to be Bill's house guest and working `girl'
from now until.....?

Cookie saw the disappointment in my face.  `Look honey, I know dis ain
maybe watcha had in mind, but member, Bill want's ya to make money, and
sugah dis da fastist way ta make money.'  She was right of course, I hadn't
made any money as a gay prostitute, and I had made over one hundred dollars
in less than one complete night as a TV.

`An look' she continues `long as ya makin da money, Bill ain talkin bout
putting ya on no damned bus.'  That, more than anything else, made this OK
in my mind.  I liked the sex, I couldn't deny that, and the thought of
being sent back home made me ill.  No, the clothes weren't what I expected,
but I came to see that they were what I needed.

`Yoant Cookie to hep ya wid ya make up?  I mean, ya doan need much but I
kin hep ya wid whatcha do need, ya know?'

And with that, I got my first initiation into the transformative process
that would change the way I looked at myself for the rest of my life.  She
started with the eyes, showing me how to pluck my eyebrows to transform
them from bushy to defined, then how to highlight them with the eyebrow
pencil.  Then she moved on to dark eye liner which had the effect of making
my eyelids pop out and dominate my face.

`No mascara' she remarked `too tricky and doan stay on nohow.'

 Then she showed me how to apply lipstick, outlining my lips first, then
filling them in with a lighter shade of lip gloss.

"Ya wan sumpin aingonna rub off, or if it do, sumpin easy put back on, cuz
ya goan be doin mostda work wif yo lips.'

Makeup wasn't rocket science, and I easily got the hang of it..

`An we goan keep ya hair in a pony tail, til ya gits mo, den we gits ya a
do.'  I couldn't imagine my hair in a `do' but this time last week I
couldn't imagine myself putting on makeup.  Or the fact that I had dressed
like a girl and had sex with three men the night before.  It was certainly
a week of momentous firsts in my short life!

I completed the look with my new short shorts and pink tee.  Somehow she
had sized the clothes perfectly, and the way the shorts lifed and separated
my ass cheeks made me look hot.  The tee was tight across my shoulders,
chest, and stomach and didn't quite cover my stomach, stopping about two
inches above the top of the shorts.  I looked like what I expected a
streetwalker to look like.  And the look kind of turned me on.  And, more
telling, wearing women's clothes really kind of turned me on to the point
that my dick got hard again.  Cookie noticed it.

`Dem trannis goan hafta sho ya how dey tuck, ya know, how dey hide dey dick
so da john doan see it.  Axt one dem how dey do it.'  As I looked down and
caught sight of my stiffey, I understood what she meant.  I mean, I looked
the part of a girl, but the bulge just didn't belong.

`Aite, dat's da best ole Cookie kin do, ya reddy ta go ta work girl.  Ya
lukkin good.'

Bill had heard Cookie talking and came into the room just as she was
slipping the sandals on my feet.  `Dam girl, I didn't kno no betta I thank
ya a girl fa sho.  Um, umm, ya goan hah dem boys linin up fa ya, fa sho.
Ya reddy ta strut ya stuff?'

`Uh, yeah, I guess I am' I replied, and I meant it.  As much as I was
unsure before, the clothes and the make up had transformed me and I was
amazed at how much.  I really felt good looking like this, and I was ready
for people to see me looking good.  I didn't realize it at the time, but I
had just unconsciously crossed another dividing line, to a place and state
of mind that I would never return from.

To be continued
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