It was customary for an admirer to askpermission to bring a friend to a meeting and usually the prospectiveattendee was checked out online; a picture was usually mandatory.Mike had arrived at the venue early and had already transformed intoMichele when John arrived with his friend. The other transvestiteswere quite taken with the handsome man in his late forties and didn'tberate John for breaking their rules. Michele however was livid! Theprospective member was none other than a work colleague; a close workcolleague! Luckily enough Michele looked sufficiently femme that thenew member didn't clock her; but she beat a hasty retreat to thenearest bedroom.She stayed in the room only letting other transvestites come in but shecouldn't enjoy the party knowing that her anonymity had come so closeto being broken.Mike made the usual excuses to his wife to enable him to attend his TeaLady parties. If it was an afternoon meet he was on the golf coursenot to be disturbed; if it was evening. I thrilled at the touch of his hand on me. I looked at him and flushed as his eyes drilled into me. He turned down a cramped alley between a rows of huts. It was reasonably clean, but very noisy. The lane ended in a gutter running hard by a bramble. He turned the corner and led me to a small hut with a sloping tin roof and a rickety wooden door with a padlock. Kumar unlocked the door and pushed it open. It was very spare, almost Spartan. One chair, a little table, a kerosene stove in a corner, a few pots and pans on two wooden shelves. A cheap calendar on the wall by a small mirror. Clothes hung on a line, a tin chest. A hemp bed with a thin pillow and sheet and sagging mattress. A cheap novel lay on the floor by the bed.“Well,” he said. “That’s it. Home. My mansion. I looked around. “It’s. It’s very nice. Kumar looked at me and I went very still. Time stopped and the sounds of the city faded. He came closer. And closer. And closer. Took my face in his hands. His head bent. I tilted..
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