Midori Sour Indiscretions

I am sitting in my psychiatrists waiting room today, when I get a text message, "Cum to the city I want that pussy mama".  It serves to remind me of my indescretions the day before. 

Thursday, March 31, 2011 (Cesar Chavez day).  I find myself at Divas, indulging in a Midori Sour.  I sit on the plush bench that lines the wall.  My drink is reclining on a little shelf-table petruding from a pillar, behind which I hide.  A light shines down, lighting up my drink, making it look radioactive.  A man wearing a cowboy hat, shouts to the bartender, Alexis, "What the hell is that day glow drink?  I've gotta have me one of those."  A crazy tranz girl, of whom I've written about before, with a big ass showing from beneath her very low-rise jeans, is at the bar.  She sports a tramp stamp, with the name "*Cesar*" showing.  She goes behind the bar and washes some glasses.  I get up to go to the bathroom.  I go to the far stall, against the wall and away from the door, which is always open.  There are no doors on the stall.  I pee standing up, and when I'm done, I put the seat down as if I sat on it.  I turn around and face way from the toilet, and begin the delicate process of arranging myself and my underwear.  It is quite the project, hiding one's body in a skin tight dress.  I finish and pull down my dress as the crazy girl walks into the stall.  "Oh, excuse me," she says.  "No problem," I reply.  She goes to the next stall, closest to the door, and unashamedly pees standing up just like a man, with her fat ass and big boobs.  I was stunned at the brashness of the move.  If there is somebody else in the bathroom, I always sit down.

I return to my nuclear drink.  In my absence, a couple makes themselves confortable on the bench, close to my seat.  She is a heavyset white girl with hipster glasses and dark hair.  He is a muscular black guy, bald, wearing an oversized shirt.  One of his front teeth is framed in gold.  Before I sit down, I make sure that I face my drink, giving him a view of my ass and my new stocking seem tattoos.  A minute passes before he leans over and introduces himself and his companion as Master See and Dominatrix Raven.  He tells me that they are starting a new club, and are scoping out tranz girls who might want to participate.  He tells me that D. Raven is experienced in the lifestyle, but that he is new and still learning.  He is from San Leandro, and she from Millbrae.  Once they get a venue, they will charge guys for the services.  He tells me that no pain would be involved.

I excuse myself to go bask outside in the fading sunlight.  He comes out a short time later.  "Is it true that trannies don't like to have sex with trannies," he asks me.  I tell him it's true, that most of the girls at Divas like guys.  He says he knows that tranz girls get angry if you call them one thing, when the identify as another.  Like calling a transexual a cross-dresser.  He asks me how the girls identify at Divas.  I say most are transexuals on hormones and with breast implants, but without the genital surgery.  Because some of the girls are hookers, they keep their equipment because the Johns like it.  He asks me if I've ever put up any craigslist ads.  I lie, and tell him I haven't.  I tell him I have to leave.  He asks for my number, and I give him my card with my email address - magdelynswallows@gmail.com.  "Do you believe mean girls suck.  Good girls swallows?"