TRANNY TRICK OR TREAT

Back in 2010 my friend and fellow farang Richard was on holiday from the Gulf, where he taught school in Saudi Arabia. He says it sucks, but he's coining good money. He asked, if I want to join him.

If all else fails, "Why not?"

Saudi Arabia is closer to Thailand than New York.

He sent an old joke yesterday.

A man is in bed with his Thai girlfriend.

After great sex, she spends the next hour just stroking his dangly bit, something she had lovingly done on many other post-coital occasions.

Rather enjoying it, he turns and asks her: 'Why do you love doing that ?'

She replies: 'Because I really miss mine...'

Erk!

Ladyboy slipped under the radar.

It's so easy to be fooled especially when your lust blinds the shrouds of deception.

Years ago, 1986 to be exact, I worked at a bar in New York. The name was the Milk Bar. The decor was an imitation of the Malchek Milk Bar from Stanley Kubrick's 1971 comedy CLOCKWORK ORANGE. White Lucite and gelled light red white and the softest blue. The crowd cut across the layers of New York. The good, the bad, and the in-between. One of the customers was a narcotic detective. Rob led raids on the coke house in the Red Hook proejects in Brooklyn. Whenever he walked into the bar, people walked out.

"Friends and colleagues." Rob would shrug off their departures. "I'm not here for work. I'm here to have a good time."

He was only 24.

Good times at the Milk Bar meant something else other than Disney rides and one night I see Rob drinking with Dove, a lanky ex-lover in a slinky Azzadine sheath. An hour later they're holding hands and shortly thereafter both of them are kissing with an audience. I knew Dove was trans. That didn't matter tonme. I was a sexual adventurer and Dove resembled Janice Dickenson, one of the most beautiful models at the time.

Dove fooled most of her prey. She liked her men straight. When Dove visited the ladies room to powder her nose, I sidled next to the detective.

"So what you think?" His face shined with an eager redness. Few women exuded lust as much as Dove. "I thought she was Janice Dickerson"

Normally I would have let Rob discover for himself about Dove's gender, but he had become more a friend and my job as a doorman necessitated a little violence from time to time. Having a cop in your pocket was a good card to hold.

"Dove's great, if you like guys."

"Guy?" Rob choked on his beer.

"Dove's been a girl for a couple of years. Beautiful and sexy, but a guy no less." I was worried about Dove's reaction to my snitching her out. She could be very mean.

"A guy?"

"Not anymore."

"Have you?" Rob looked around the bar, as if he were trying to spot a familiar face. The crowd consisted of perps, dealers, politicians, models, musicians, diplomats, actors, and starlets. None of them were saints. He swigged his beer.

"She's a friend."

"I can deal with that."

"You can?" I thought my warning would steer him to clearer water.

"Dove's the best looking woman I've seen in years. Man or woman. And she wants me."

"Then you have my blessing."

The two of them left within the hour. No one noticed their departure. Dove showed up the next day with a smile and Rob's watch.

"He gave it to me."

"Really?" I almost believed her. It was a cheap watch. I said not

"Really." Dove waited that night for Rob to show up. He never did. Dove and I went to my place. In the dark she looked like Janice, but I preferred Dove. He was twice the woman I will ever be. always.