I Only Wanted A Job - Chapter 1 - My Break Into Show-biz free porn video

I ONLY WANTED A JOB Chapter 1 - My break into Show-biz! 2:00pm on a dank February afternoon: I sat in the steamy little caf? in Soho hunched over my mug of weak, lukewarm tea and contemplated my options. My name is Victor Wright and I am just about at the end of my tether. Last June I graduated from Bristol University with a good Upper Second degree in History. I had confidently expected to find myself a trainee job in management, but my expectations had been far too ambitious. I was one of the thousands of graduates who fell foul of the downturn in the economy. There were just too many of us for the limited number of jobs available. I'm not an overly proud person and, once it became clear that I wasn't going to walk into a management job, I lowered my sights and started applying for more junior opportunities. However I had no success here either. By now it was approaching Christmas and I had been back living at home with my parents in Nuneaton for nearly six months. This arrangement suited neither party. After three years at university I was used to the freedom of living on my own and, for their part, my parents were enjoying life beyond children. Don't get me wrong, we are a loving family and at the basic level everything was working out fine. It was just that we all knew that this wasn't the ideal situation for any of us. So it came as a relief to Mum and Dad when, over the Christmas holiday, I announced my intention of heading south to try my luck in London. "Although the Midlands are deep in recession," I explained, "London still seems to be booming. I shouldn't have any trouble finding work there." Boy, did I get that one wrong! One of my old school mates, Keith, was home from London for Christmas and one night over a drink in the pub I confided my plans to him. "That's lucky," he replied. "It just so happens that my flat mate is starting a six week posting to Hong Kong immediately after Christmas. Her firm are paying for her to keep on her room in our flat, so I can offer you rent free accommodation for the next six weeks!" This seemed a heaven-sent opportunity and I was sure I could easily find a job within six weeks, so I eagerly accepted his kind offer. Six weeks later; it is mid-February; Keith's flat-mate returns from Hong Kong at the weekend and I have had to move out. Needless to say I haven't managed to find work and am faced with the prospect of have to return home to Nuneaton with my tail between my legs; not a prospect I relish! I looked in my wallet; ?120. That would just about pay for one night in a cheap hotel and my rail fare back to Nuneaton. If I didn't land a job within the next three hours - (and realistically I had little hope of achieving that) - it is back home having failed again. I let out a hollow laugh; a cross between laughter, crying, and wailing; a horrible, unusual sound. "Are you alright?" I heard a voice enquire from behind me. Turning, I looked into the anxious face of a pretty young woman who was gazing down at me with concern. "No, I'm fine," I mumbled. "It is just I have had to accept that I am not going to find work here in London and I have been contemplating the humiliation of having to ring my parents to tell that I will be coming home tomorrow to live with them once again!" "Oh dear," the young woman replied, "would it help to tell me about it? I often find talking through problems to a sympathetic listener can help clarify things." "I don't know," I replied, "I don't think talking about my problem is going to change anything." But she wouldn't take "no" for an answer and, pulling up a chair, brought her coffee across to my table. She was smartly, if casually dressed, in skinny, black cord, trousers, tucked into leather boots with quite a high heel. Above the waist she was wearing an olive-green mini-dress under a baggy, charcoal-grey, sweater. Her light-brown hair was held back by a comb, and she was lightly made- up with pretty gold jewellery accessories. "I guess I had better introduce myself," she said with a smile; "Annabelle Roxley, but my friends all call me Annie." "I'm Victor," I responded, "Victor Wright. Pleased to meet you - and my friends don't call me 'Vic'!" We both laughed and this helped break the ice. I proceeded to tell Annie my sad and boring story, but she listened intently and, as I concluded, said, "Your story isn't that unusual. Loads of people come to London expecting, like Dick Whittington, that the streets will be paved with gold. Well they discover, just as you have, life isn't like that. You need to work hard, persevere, and be very, very lucky!" "I know," I replied, "and I am not being self-pitying. It is just I hate having to give in. I know I could make it here if only I could get my foot on the first rung of the ladder." "Maybe that is where I can help you," said Annie, with an enigmatic smile. "It just so happens that the place where I work is looking for a night-watchman. The last guy, Bill, was caught nicking booze from the bar and ending up senseless when he should have been on duty. Anyway, my boss, Simon, kicked him out a couple of days ago and I know he is actively looking or someone to replace him." Well "night-watchman" wasn't quite the career path I had envisaged, but beggars can't be choosers and, if this was a genuine opportunity for work, I wasn't going to reject it out of hand. "I could be interested," I said, cautiously, "what would the job entail?" "Why don't you come and meet Simon," Annie responded. "He can tell you about the job and much better than I can, after all, he is the one who will decide whether or not you might be suitable." What had I to lose? So, naturally I said "yes" I would be more than happy to go with Annie to meet Simon. "No time like the present," said Annie, so I swiftly gathered up my things - a battered rucksack and a small suit bag containing my smart, "interview" clothes - and we set off. It wasn't a long walk. After a couple of minutes Annie turned right into a narrow alleyway and punched a code into a security lock on a nondescript black door. We entered into a small lobby area with a Reception window to one side. "That's where the night-watchman sleeps," Annie announced as she ushered me up a flight of stairs into a long corridor that ran across the back of the building. "As you may have gathered," Annie explained, "this is a club. It is more a Caberet-Restaurant than a nightclub. Down there on the right," she said pointing down the corridor, "are the dressing rooms. And on the other side of the corridor is the kitchen. Down here," pointing to the left, "is Simon's office." She led me down to the office and knocked on the door. "Who is it?" a rich, male voice enquired. "Annie," she replied. "Oh come in Annie," the voice responded, "I've always got time to see my favourite singer!" Annie entered and beckoned for me to follow her. "Can I introduce Victor?" she asked. "He is a friend of mine and is interested in applying for the Night Watchman's job." (Well "friend" might have been overstating the case somewhat for an acquaintanceship that must have lasted for all of 45 minutes, but I was very grateful to her for taking my part!) Simon looked me up and down. He was a handsome man of about 35 with perhaps a slightly effeminate cast to his features. His smile, however, was genuine as he rose and shook me by the hand. "Welcome Victor" he said. "Tell me a bit about yourself and why you think you might be suitable for this particular job." I told him my tale, not trying to conceal my reasons for pursuing this opportunity, nor pretending I knew anything about night-watching. Simon listen carefully to what I had to say and, when I had finished, responded with a sympathetic smile. "I know exactly what you are going through" he said. "Twelve years ago I was in a similar position. I came down from Durham with a good degree in Law; studied and passed my Bar exams; and was all set to become a barrister. However, I couldn't land that all important pupilage; there were just too many aspiring lawyers! So I abandoned the Bar and explored alternative avenues of employment in fields where I had a special interest. Fortunately my family are fairly well off, so I was able to tap them for a substantial loan to enable me to get started with this club and I haven't looked back since. So I do understand how frustrating it must be for a man with your qualifications to have to grovel for a menial job like this. Still, if you are up for it. I am willing to give you a chance. The job won't stretch your mental powers, but it will provide you with free accommodation and food, plus pocket-money of ?35 per shift. There may well be other odd jobs you could do for me that would pay extra. What do you think?" Well, this wasn't what I had looked for in coming to London, but it would buy me time and avoid the humiliation of having to crawl back to my parents with my tail between my legs; so I accepted! "Good; I'm pleased," said Simon. "I'm sure it won't take you long to find a more appropriate job, but, in the meantime, this will give you a roof over your head and get me out of a jam at the same time. I assume you are not an alcoholic or habitual drug user like my previous night watchman?" I hastened to assure him that I wasn't. "Fine; why don't you start right away?" Simon said. "Annie can show you around and I will catch up with you later." As we left Simon's office, Annie gave me a big hug and said, "I'm so glad I was able to help you out. I know this isn't much of a job, but at least it will give us a chance to get to know each other better." As I have already indicated, Annie was a pretty girl and the prospect of getting to know her better was not unappealing! "Tell me about the Club," I asked. "Simon said that you were his favourite singer. Does that mean that you are a performer?" "Well, as I have already told you," replied Annie, "this is primarily a restaurant where diners have the additional benefit of being entertained with a caberet show. Simon employs a few of us on a fairly long-term basis to provide the back-up to the lead act which changes every week or so. You might be surprised at some of the names who perform here," and she rattled of a list of performers, many of who I had heard of. I was well impressed and it must have showed in my expression because Annie smiled and said ruefully, "Of course I'm not in that league, but, yes, I am Simon's principle regular singer and I keep hoping for that elusive break that will turn me into a star! "What is the Club called?" I enquired. "Simone's," was Annie's reply. "That is an odd coincidence," I responded. "The club is called "Simone's," and it is owned and managed by Simon!" Annie looked embarrassed and gritted her teeth. "Simon is Simone," she said. "When he talked about setting up a business that reflected his "special interests", it was because he is a transvestite. For the show, Simon becomes Simone and acts as Mistress of Ceremonies!" I must have looked gobsmacked because Annie continued, "This is a transvestite venue. All the front of house staff are men dressed as women. The kitchen staff remain in their natural gender role because they are never seen by the punters, but everyone else is cross-dressed." "But not everyone," I responded. "After all you have just told me that you are Simon's lead singer, so he does employ some women." Annie looked at the floor. "I'm not all I seem," she confessed. "Although I live and present as a woman, under these clothes I too have similar equipment to you!" To say I was amazed and shocked would be an understatement. Annie was so evidently female, it would never have occurred to me to question her gender. There was an awkward pause whilst I tried to digest this information. I knew I had been starting to fancy Annie, but now I had just learned that "she," was a man. What did that say about my feelings; was I potentially gay? I decided to put these thoughts and questions to one side for the time being. What was indisputably true was that Annie put herself out to help me and that was definitely a sign of a warm and affectionate nature, irrespective of her true gender. "I never would have guessed," I finally managed to mutter. "You certainly come across as all women!" "Thank you," Annie said with a shy smile. "I've known ever since I was a child that I should really have been born a woman. One of these days when I have saved up enough money I will have reassignment surgery and then my outside will match my inside." So this is a club for the transgendered? I thought to myself. I wasn't totally unfamiliar with the concept of transgender. There had been a vocal Gay, Lesbian, and Transgender Group at Bristol University, so I had seen cross-dressed men parading about before, but I had never been this close to one, and in conversation, for so long a time as I had been with Annie. "Tell me about the Club and how it works," I suggested - (anything to divert the conversation from Annie's personal circumstances!) Annie explained that Simone's was a "membership only," club and that members could dine from around 8pm. ("Although if there is passing tourist trade who want to come in; 'membership' can be arranged fairly swiftly - like on the spot!" she added with a smile.) The caberet started at 9:00 pm with a second show at midnight and the club tended to close around 2:00 in the morning. "As Night Watchman it is your job to check that everything is safe once the rest of the staff have gone home," she said. "I think Simon expects you to make a couple of patrols between then and dawn, but he is quite a relaxed person and if everything is quiet, he doesn't mind you sleeping between patrols. The cleaners come in at 7:00am and then you can go to bed properly until about mid-day when Simon tends to come in to do his paperwork. Some of the entertainers may drop in to rehearse for a bit, but the place doesn't really come to life until about 5:00pm. The kitchen staff come in earlier, of course, to get set up, but they have a separate entrance, so they won't disturb you." This all sounded really quite relaxed and I thought that this job would allow plenty of time and opportunity for me to explore other, more long-term, employment opportunities. All in all, I decided I had fallen on my feet and that it had been my good fortune that Annie had been sitting behind me in the caf?. "Come on," said Annie, "let's put your bag in the night watchman's room - your room from now on - and I'll show you round and introduce you to a few people. "My," room was a multi-purpose space. By the entrance door off the street, a small window and reception desk contained a computer, telephone and a walky-talky set. Behind that a partition screened off an area containing a single bed, chest of drawers, and a television set. A small curtained alcove provided space to hang my coat and suit. "You share the shower and toilet facilities with us entertainers upstairs," Annie explained, "and you get your food from the kitchen. Simon prides himself on the quality of the food served here and employs an excellent chef, so you won't go short there. Out of hours there is a microwave and electric kettle in our dressing room so you can always make yourself a drink and snack during the night." All this sounded very satisfactory and I began to think that this might not be a bad place to work whilst looking around for something more permanent. Then I remembered that this was a venue catering for the transgendered community and their admirers and I wondered how I was going to cope with this new, and to me, wholly alien scene. Well I would just have to wait and see; time would tell! Next Annie took me into the club itself. Entry was via a small pass-door by the stairs which led to the back-stage area and the wings. I could see that whilst it was small, the stage was well equipped with lighting and facilities for changing scenery. There was no space for a fly-tower, so scenery and props were piled haphazardly in the wings. A second pass- door gave access from the wings into the club itself. I drew breath as I stepped inside; the d?cor was very impressive. Even under working lights the fixtures and furnishings glittered and shone. There were lots of velvet, gold and marble pillars, and swaged draperies. It wasn't camp but definitely engendered a feminine feel. Discrete alcoves around the curved walls were being set for dining, together with other tables on the main floor of the club. Crisp linen, sparkling glass and tableware, and vases of fresh flowers gave a sophisticated, elegant feel to the place. The stage was set into one wall of the room and beside it was a small platform with a Bluthner baby-grand piano and space for other musicians. In front of the stage there was space for dancing. On the other side of the stage was a small bar area. In all I guessed that the club could accommodate around 120 diners. Clearly Simon had not skimped on expense when setting up his establishment. By now it was about 5:30pm and the restaurant was being prepared for that evening's dining. Three young men were laying up the tables. Annie called out; "Hang on a minute guys. I would like to introduce you to Victor. He is going to be our new night watchman. The young men came over, shook my hand and said "Hi". They introduced themselves as Philip, Peter, and Clive. "Later this evening you will meet us as Tina, Petra, and Collette," Philip joked. I must have blushed because he laughed and said; "Don't worry, we don't bite. I guess this is all new to you and must seem a bit daunting. I felt the same when I first came to work here, but Simone is a great boss and everyone gets along fine. I'm sure you will soon settle down and enjoy working here. Welcome to the gang!" A friendly welcome for which I was very grateful; maybe working here wouldn't be as peculiar as I had initially imagined. "Come and meet Charlene," Annie announced, dragging me over to the bar. "Charlene," was an older man - I guess about 40 - with a broad Australian accent. "It's Charlie at the moment," he grinned, "Charlene comes out to play in a couple of hours!" Next Annie dragged me back upstairs and into the kitchens, where she introduced me to Gary, the Chef, and the half dozen staff busily preparing that evening's food. I didn't catch or remember all their names; I could deal with that later. "Now come and see our dressing rooms," Annie said, grabbing me by the hand and dragging me along behind her. Funnily enough I didn't mind her holding my hand even though I now knew her to be a man. "This is my area," Annie announced proudly as she showed me into the main changing room. It was a scruffy room; with a long counter down one side set up as individual makeup areas. Behind where the artists would sit to apply their makeup, clothing racks held their costumes. Gowns, heels, feathers, and fans glittered in profusion. Every corner was piled high with discarded shoes, hat boxes and all the paraphernalia that goes with putting on a show. Annie looked up at me with a glow of pride on her face. "Well, what do you think of it?" she enquired disarmingly. Frankly, I thought it a bit of a shambles, but had the wit not to say so. "Very comfortable and clearly well used and busy," I compromised. "How many of you share in here?" "It varies a bit from show to show," Annie explained. "At the moment there are eight of us." No wonder the room was a bit of a mess; eight people crowded in here would be working cheek by jowl - particularly given all the costumes and props that filled every available space. "This is the Star dressing room," Annie announced, dragging me into the next room along the corridor. This was a small room, but nicely set out with a couch and drinks cabinet in addition to the ubiquitous makeup table. "XX is performing here this week," Annie told me proudly, naming a very well known comedian. "He is going down a storm with the punters." Now I happened to know that XX had a bit of a reputation for being homophobic, so I asked Annie; "How does he react to appearing in a show where all the other performers are female impersonators?" Annie laughed; "Don't believe everything you read in the papers; XX is as gay as they come. His alleged homophobia is all an act to keep people from prying into his personal relationships. He loves working here and I think this is the third show he has appeared in." Suddenly Annie glanced at her watch. "My goodness," she exclaimed "It is six thirty already. The girls will be arriving soon to get ready for the show. I had better make a start myself. Why don't you go and sort your things out in your new room and I'll see you later." I returned downstairs and unpacked my things - not that there was that much to unpack! I hung my suit, best shirt and tie away behind the curtain and put my other clothes in the chest of drawers. The only couple of books I had with me, I placed on top of the chest and that was it. My suit-bag and rucksack were tucked out of sight on the floor of the hanging space. I checked the bed; fresh sheets and clean blankets; that was OK. Clearly the room had been thoroughly cleaned since the previous occupant had moved out. I decided to familiarise myself with the tools of my new trade and sat down in front of the computer terminal. It didn't take me long to suss out how to access the security cameras. There were several both inside the club and covering the immediate outside area. I punched through the various sources, passing quickly over those covering the performer's dressing room and staff restroom, as in both of these men were busily transforming themselves into women. I neither wanted to be thought a voyeur, nor, at this precise moment, to have to face up to the nature of the establishment where I now worked. I was quietly reading through the duty log - not much of interest seemed to be recorded - when I heard a discrete cough behind me. Turning, I realised it was Simon; but not the 'Simon' I had met a couple of hours earlier; this was 'Simone', owner and hostess of the Club and my new boss! (S)he looked amazing. Gone was the slightly retiring, effeminate man; replaced by a brassy, confident woman. Her appearance was definitely "over the top", but she was by no means an evident Drag Queen. She was wearing a glittering royal blue evening dress with a low- cut bodice that revealed two substantial and very convincing breasts! There was clearly a lot of corseting and padding going on under the gown as Simone displayed a very curvaceous figure. As she stepping into my room, I could see that she was wearing a pair of tetteringly high platform-heels. Her makeup and jewellery were both brash and flashy, but realistically feminine. Everything was topped off by a beautiful auburn wig. Piled high on her head in an elegant coiffure, it confirmed Simone's status as the 'Lady of the House'. "I'm glad to see you are getting to grips with your new job," Simone said. (It was odd hearing Simon's masculine voice coming from those red, feminine lips!) "However, I thought you might like to grab the chance to see the show from out-front tonight so as to get a feel of how the Club works and the sort of clientele we attract. I have therefore asked for a table to set up for you. Why don't you change into something a bit smarter and then go and enjoy a good meal; a few drinks; see the show, and you can tell me what you think of my little establishment tomorrow. I genuinely would like to hear your opinion; feedback is essential if we are to avoid becoming stale and slipshod. Also you are better educated than many of the staff I employ, so you will see things from a different perspective." This was a really good suggestion on Simon's part and I readily accepted. "I suggest you go down about 8:00," Simon suggested. "By then the place will be filling up and you can take a look at how we operate whilst enjoying your meal before show-time!" Simone sashayed out of the room, her bottom wiggling enticingly in her tight dress. I was surprised how quickly I had come to think of Simone as "she". The lady I had just met and the man who had offered me a job earlier that afternoon, seemed two completely different people. Checking on the security camera, I discovered that the staffroom was now empty. Clearly the "waitresses" were now on duty ready for the first diners to arrive. I hurriedly nipped into the staffroom; shaved; took a quick shower; and changed into my suit, shirt, and tie. It was a pretty boring "interview suit" in grey pinstripe, but at least it was well pressed and I had a pair of shined black shoes to go with it. Fortunately there was a hairdryer in the staff restroom - (I guess establishments that employ cross-dressers require somewhat different facilities from those I was used to) - so I blow-dried my hair and fastened it back in a ponytail. (My hair had grown rather long during the last few months as, with very limited funds, hair-cuts had been a luxury I had dispensed with!) Slipping through the pass-door onto the Club floor, I was immediately struck by the difference proper lighting can make. The Club had appeared smart under working lights. Now that it was illuminated ready for the evening's entertainment, it looked positively opulent. One of the waitresses spotted me standing there and came over. "Hi Victor," she said in a feminine voice. "I have laid you up a table over here." She led me across to one of the alcoves. She must have realised my confusion because she smiled and slipped back into a more masculine style of speech. "You don't recognise me do you? I was 'Philip' when you met me earlier, but now that I am on duty my name is 'Tina'!" I stammered an apology. "Don't worry," Tina said. "Everyone finds it confusing when they first start here. You will get the hang of it in no time. In the meantime let me get you a drink whilst you take a look at the menu. Don't worry about the price; everything is 'on the house' for you tonight." I asked if I could have a gin and tonic and Tina walked over to the bar to fetch one for me. I settled back in my seat and took a look around the room. Quite a few tables were already occupied with diners and the three waitresses - (Tina, Petra, and Collette as I recalled) - were move purposefully between them, taking orders and serving food and drinks. They all wore a similar uniform. This comprised a lacy, cream, long-sleeved blouse; short, black, fitted skirt; a little lace-edged apron; sheer, black hose; and black court shoes. Tina and Collette were now brunettes, wearing their hair 'up', whilst Petra was a platinum blonde in a 'Marilyn Monroe' style wig. They looked very smart and professional and it was hard to remember how they had looked when in their true male mode. 'Charlene' saw me looking around and gave me a wave from behind her bar. Charlie had transformed himself into the prototype bar-maid; buxom; low-cut dress; and a wig of 'big', chestnut hair. Tina brought me my drink and I ordered a medium-rare steak and salad. (Good meat had been a rare treat recently!) "Can I suggest a bottle of the house Rioja," she suggested. "Obviously most of the wines we sell are over-priced, but Simon insists we keep a couple of house-wines on the list because he believes in only ripping off those who can afford it!" I took her advice and, shortly, after was tucking into an excellent steak and enjoyed a very good glass of wine. With my hunger assuaged, I sat back and started to study the guests. Whilst there we obviously gay men in the room, a surprisingly large number of the tables were occupied by couples - (by which I mean a man and a woman!) Or at least such was my first impression. On closer examination, I realised that some of the 'women' were in fact cross- dressed men. Many were extremely convincing and it took me quite a long time to sort out which were genuine women and which were cross-dressers. (In fact, I'm still not sure I got it 100% right!) By now it was approaching 9:00pm and the first show of the evening was about to start. To a fanfare of trumpets the stage curtains opened revealing Simone in all her glory. She struck a couple of exaggeratedly feminine poses before descending from the stage to promenade around the floor, flirting and chatting with her customers. She clearly had a wicked sense of humour and a quick wit as she soon had them giggling with embarrassment as, one after the other, she sent them up. It wasn't particularly cruel humour, just very funny and it certainly served its purpose in warming up the audience before the show. Once she had got everyone on her side, Simone announced the running order for the evening and without more ado, sent up the curtain on the first act. This turned out to be the staff dancers. There were five of them and they were very good. Whilst fairly convincing, they were self evidently men in drag. Exaggerated wiggling and lots of limp wrists did nothing to convince me that these were really 'chorus girls'. Having said that, they were more than competent dancers and the routine was well staged.. Simone next announced the "Audacious Lizzie; Queen of the Ad-lib". Lizzie was a plump little transvestite; not fat, just pleasantly rounded. She was dressed in a psudo-1920's number of short, fringed dress and stockings gartered just above her knee. Her act involved a lot of interaction with the audience and she certainly had a fast - if somewhat salacious - wit. As members of the audience responded to her jibes, she took what they were saying and responded with an even more surreal flight of fancy. Everyone loved her and she took her bow to thunderous applause. I began to see why Simon's club was so successful; if he could engender audience involvement like this, it was not surprising that most nights "Simone's" was fully booked. Another chorus routine, with the 'girls' miming to female backing tracks - which was also well received - led into Annie's spot on the bill. Simone announced her as; "That glamorous songstress, Miss Annabelle Roxley!" Annie was clearly an established favourite as she received a warm round of applause even before she had opened her mouth. Now I guess I was somewhat biased, but I thought she looked absolutely amazing. It was impossible to tell that she wasn't a genuine woman. From the top of her beautifully arranged hair; past her exquisitely made up face and glittering jewellery; down her tight-fitting, sequined evening dress; to her tiny feet in strappy sandals, she screamed "woman"!! She then started to sing and, unlike the others, she did not use a backing track. Her singing was all her own. She had a sweet voice, somewhere in the mezzo-soprano register. She also knew how to 'put-over' a song and had no trouble in keeping the audience in the palm of her hand. To my mind Annie's act was a cut above anything I had seen so far. Annie's repertoire comprised established standards; songs from the shows; and some numbers with which I was unfamiliar. I learned later that these were numbers she had written for herself. She is an accomplished lady! After her first couple of songs, Annie paused and gave the audience a bit of a spiel, taking the opportunity to introduce her accompanist, 'Fiona' who was playing the baby grand. Fiona was a mousey little 'lady'; she was wearing a dark brown wig, dressing in a 1950's style and heavily lacquered. Her dress similarly was 50's retro, falling below her knee and flared out with underskirts and petticoats. The final touch, which confirmed her fondness for past fashions, was the diamante trimmed cats-eye spectacles she was wearing. I probably wouldn't have noticed Fiona so much had I not been surprised and disappointed by the quality of her piano playing. Now it happens that one of my interests is trad jazz and whilst this has gone out of fashion in most places, in Bristol it is still very popular. Whilst at University there I had played keyboards for an amateur band and so know a bit about piano playing. I am not boasting if I say I would easily have made a better accompanist for Annie than Fiona - and I am unfamiliar with her material! Annie's set lasted for about 15 minutes and went down a storm. Simone returned to the stage to announce the star turn, Mr XX. He was certainly popular and his risqu?, somewhat blue, humour seemed to go down well with the diners. For my taste he was a bit too crude and I was disappointed as, having seen him on television, I had been looking forward to experiencing him in live performance. His turn closed the first show and Simone encouraged everyone to continue drinking and dancing until the second set that would commence at midnight. On this occasion the dance music was piped, rather than from a live band, but that did not seem to deter the diners and several took to the floor. I decided to slip backstage and have a word with Simone and Annie. Backstage I made my way up the stairs and turned towards Simon(e)'s office. (S)he was sitting at her desk talking on the telephone with a large glass of scotch in her hand. Clearly not a moment to barge in for a word! So I turned the other way and knocked on the door of the large dressing room. A chorus of cat-calls erupted; "Come in sweetie, don't be shy"; "There's nothing here you haven't seen before"; - you get the idea! Somewhat nervously I entered. Fortunately Annie was seated at a dressing table near the door and she rescued me before I was totally sent up by the other seven occupants of the room. "Stop teasing him girls," she announced firmly. "This is my friend Victor and he is joining us at the Club as night watchman. You will need to be nice to him." The hubbub quietened and whilst I was still the subject of a certain amount of joshing, it was good natured and I started to relax as Annie introduced me to the other 'girls'. It was still a bizarre experience to be standing in a room full of men and being the only one not wearing fishnet tights, high heels, and makeup. Still I knew that if I was going to continue working at 'Simone's' I would need to get used to this camp atmosphere. From their speech and mannerisms, it appeared that most of the entertainers were gay. They tended to greet me in an over-effusive manner with lots of 'darling' and 'sweetie' peppering their conversation. However a few greeted me with a firm handshake and a friendly smile and one even offered me a beer, which I accepted gratefully. "What did you think of the show?" asked someone whom I realised must be 'Audacious Lizzie - Queen of the Ad-Lib," although (s)he looked totally different with her wig off and with her bald head! I told them that I had enjoyed it very much. (This was not an occasion to enter into a critique as to how things could be improved to make it a much slicker show!) Everyone wanted to know how I rated their personal performance and after a couple of minutes battering Annie stood up and said with a grin, "Enough girls. Give poor Victor a chance to find his feet before you tear him to pieces! Come along Victor, let's find somewhere a bit quieter and you can tell me what you really think about my act!" Taking my hand she led me off to the staff restroom, which at this time of the evening was empty as all the waiting and bar staffs were fully occupied with the customers. Annie flopped down in a chair, revealing in the process that she was the possessor of a very shapely pair of legs. Adjusting her dress she asked me to pour us each a drink from one of the bottles standing on a side table. I got us each a glass of wine and sat down opposite her. "Do you really want to know what I think of the show?" I asked cautiously. "I think so," replied Annie with just a hint of nervousness in her voice; "But please don't be too harsh on me; I still have another act to perform this evening!" "Oh don't worry," I responded, "you are by far and away the best act in the show - and I'm not saying that because you found this job for me. I really mean it. The show isn't bad, but it could easily be made a lot better. It just seems a bit slack and in need of a Director's hand. You, on the other hand, are a class turn. I can't imagine why the break you told me you were waiting for hasn't come your way." Annie beamed with pleasure and raised her glass in a toast of thanks. It was then that I leaned that in addition to being a performer, Annie also writes a lot of her own material. I told her that the songs she had written were the ones I had enjoyed most. At this point she rose from her chair; crossed to where I was sitting; took my head in her hands and kissed me full on the lips. I was too shocked to do anything other than sit there. "Thank you," Annie said with hint of a tear in her eye. "You can't know how good it is to get feedback like that. You go out every night and try and give of your best, but it does become a bit of a treadmill sometimes." We sat and chatted for another half hour and then Annie said she had better prepare for the second part of the show. I returned to my table where Tina brought me over another drink. "I wondered where you had got to," she said. "How are you enjoying yourself?" I told her I was having a good time and that the meal and wine had been excellent. "You, Petra, and Collette must be kept very busy looking after all these tables," I said, "Not to mention poor old Charlene slogging away at the bar!" "Yes we don't get much rest once the evening kicks off," Tina replied "and I can tell you, I can't wait to kick these heels off come the end of my shift!" I asked her how long she had been working at 'Simone's'. "Oh about six months," Tina replied. "I'm studying "English as a Foreign Language," course during the day, together with learning Mandarin and it is my intention, when I am qualified, to go to China and work there for a while." This wasn't quite what I had expected to hear from a transvestite waitress and my surprise must have shown in my face because Tina laughed and continued: "I never planned to work as a 'waitress'; it was just that I needed some sort of evening job that wouldn't interfere with my studies and a gay friend of mine - who is one of the dancers here - suggested I apply for this job. Until I came to 'Simone's', I had never worn a skirt in my life!" "Excuse me if this sounds personal," I said cautiously, "but I am getting confused. I would have thought that in order to work here you must already have been an experienced cross-dresser." "Not at all," replied Tina. "Of course most of the staff are either gay or transgendered, but I am neither; this is strictly a job for me. Peter and Clive - ('Petra' and 'Collette') - are both straight cross-dressers; Charlie swings both ways; and most, but not all, of the performers are either gay or transsexual. It is all very strange and I can sympathise with your confusion!" With that she had to hurry off to look after another table, leaving me to mull over what she had told me. I was clearly entering a new world here at the Club. I had thought of myself as an experienced man of the world and, in Bristol, I had seen transvestites at various events and gigs, but it seemed that in reality the transgendered scene was much more complex that I had thought. Well this job would certainly provide me with an opportunity to get to know more about this particular community. (Just how good a learning opportunity I was going to get fortunately remained, at this stage, hidden in the mists of time!) The second part of the show was similar to the first; a mix of chorus numbers and solo spots although this time round Lizzie gave a rendition of Marie Lloyd music hall songs, encouraging the audience to join in - which they did with a will. My regard for Lizzie started to rise; she clearly had some talent and was good at interacting with the audience. Fiona also had a solo spot and I am afraid this did nothing to raise my opinion of her piano playing; (s)he really was rather ordinary. Once again, in my eyes Annie was the star turn. Somewhat surprisingly, this time round she sang a number of popular arias from opera, including pieces from Carmen, The Barber of Seville, and Don Carlos. In each case she cleverly selected arias that lay comfortably for her low mezzo register. At the end of the evening, I helped Tina, Charlene, and the other floor staff tidy up and clear away. The main cleaning, I was told, would be carried out in the morning by a firm that came in on contract. It was about 3:00am before I was able to lock up after the last departing person. I made sure that all the security cameras were working and linked to the digital recorder. Having made checks that all doors and windows were securely fastened, I retired to my bed and set the alarm to wake me at 6:00am. It had been a busy and exciting day and I was only going to get a couple of hours sleep before having to get up again! Still I now had a job and a base from which I could explore more permanent employment opportunities. My head seemed hardly to have touched the pillow before my alarm went off. Groaning, I struggled out of bed and made another round of security checks. I brewed myself a cup of tea and, at 7:00 let the cleaners in. I then returned to my room; shut the door and put a "Do not Disturb," notice in the reception window before falling back in bed for another few hours kip. All too soon I was awakened by Simon knocking at my door. "Sorry to wake you," he said "but I am expecting a visitor to join me for lunch at 1:00 o'clock. Can you please show him up to my office when he arrives?" Well Simon was the boss, so naturally I said "yes". Over the next few weeks I gradually got into a pattern of working. My sleep requirements slowly adjusted and I found I was able to get by with regular, short, cat-naps. I took to sleeping through the early part of each evening and only getting up about midnight to catch Annie's second spot and to be ready to help clear up when the last customer had departed. I gradually got to know all the other staff - performers, waitresses, and the kitchen team. When you got to know them they were a pretty amiable bunch; casually friendly; sometimes bitchy; occasionally worried about something or other - in fact, just like the sort of people you would meet in any workplace except for the fact that at Simone's, all the blokes wore frocks! I did, sporadically, continue my search for a permanent job but, to be honest, my lack of success sapped my energy and I started paying more attention to things I could see needed attention at the Club. For a start I set to and tidied up the back stage area. Old and broken props, scenery and costumes were binned and those that were still usable, I sorted and stored in a more logical way so that they could easily be found. I undertook a similar clear-out of the main dressing room, but here I made sure to consult all the 'girls' first as to what they wanted to retain and what could be thrown away. I knew I could not afford to offend and fall out with any of these temperamental creatures! With their agreement, by the time I had finished, there was much more usable space in the dressing room and all spare costumes had been cleaned and pressed and were now hanging sorted by size. Finally I took the opportunity of a week when the booked headline act cancelled at the last minute, to clean and redecorate the Star Dressing Room. Simon was well pleased with my efforts and made sure that my pay-packet reflected my additional contribution. I had little time to myself but, as I gradually became accustomed to the odd working and sleeping hours, I started to allow myself a little time in the early hours of the morning when I had the building to myself, to practice my piano playing. The Bluthner baby-grand was a lovely instrument and I am afraid I somewhat abused it's classical nature by bashing out old jazz standards and working up solo variations on well known themes. One morning, it must have been about 5:00am, I had just finished on particularly complex set of variations and had closed with a series of crashing chords, when I heard the sound of applause coming from behind me. Turning, in surprise, I saw it was Simon. "Sorry Victor, I didn't want to interrupt your playing, but I had to pop back for some papers I need for a meeting this morning and heard the sound of the piano. You really are rather good aren't you?" I scrambled to my feet; "Sorry Simon, I hope you don't mind my playing your piano when I am on my own?" "Not at all," Simon responded, "Play whenever you like. I don't play myself, but I do know how important it is to practice and keep your fingers supple." This was very generous and I thanked him profusely. Each night I continued to practice and gradually regained my old level of proficiency. I even restart composing some new pieces. Then, one night, my life took a dramatic change of direction. The first half of the show had just finished and, as was her wont, at about half- past ten Fiona walked past my room on her way outside to smoke a couple of cigarettes. This was a regular practice of hers and she never bothered to change out of her 1950's costume. (In fact I think that Frank - (Fiona's 'drab' name) - secretly wished he could go back to that period and become the 'little woman' to some strong, protective man!) I hadn't really got to know Fiona all that well. I suspect that to some extent my antipathy towards her piano playing may have had something to do with it as I was consciously trying to avoid her asking my opinion. Anyway on this evening she stepped outside to light up and I continued with what I was doing. Then, reacting to some inexplicable impulse, I turned to the computer and punched up the security cameras in turn. As I selected the one covering the alleyway outside our stage-door I saw, to my horror that Fiona was on the ground being given a severe kicking by a group of three or four young men. Without really thinking, I grabbed a broom and rushed outside brandishing it. "Take that you nancy poof," I heard one youth say as he let fly another kick into Fiona's ribs. "Get the f*** out of here," I yelled, charging at them with my broom. What I would have done had they stood up to me I am not sure. There were four of them and only one of me - and a broom is not the most efficient weapon with which to challenge a gang who were probable all armed with knives! Anyway, I was fortunate and my sudden appearance and fearsome shouting caused them to flee. I did not pursue but knelt down beside Fiona who was bleeding from the mouth and around the face. I had the wit not to try and move her; I know enough first aid to realise that if she had been injured internally as a result to the kicking, moving her was the last thing I should do. Just then Terry, one of the Under-Chefs from the kitchen, alerted by all the noise came to my assistance. I sent him to telephone for an ambulance, whilst I tried to keep Fiona/Frank calm and still. It was clear he was quite badly beaten up. Fortunately the ambulance and paramedics arrived quite quickly and took over control. They showed no apparent surprise at the fact Frank was fully dressed and made over as a woman! In next to no time that had checked him out; got him onto a stretcher; and off to the University College Hospital. At this point a couple of policemen turned up and started asking me for details of what had happened. I explained and took them back into my room to show them the security camera footage. By now there was quite a crowd of onlookers, both from the Club and casual passers-by. Simon shooed them away until it was he and I and the two policemen gathered round my computer. The police asked me to download a copy of the footage for them, which I willingly did; and they then departed. (Incidentally, some days later they identified and arrested a couple of the thugs. In due course the case went to court; I attended as a witness; and the men were sentenced to two years imprisonment for "grievous bodily harm," and "assault".) Anyway back to the evening of the assault: When the police had left Simon and I went up to his office where he poured me a large scotch, which I very much needed. Adrenaline had kept me going up to now but reaction was kicking in and my legs were starting to shake. Fortunately after a stiff drink and a few minutes sitting and telling Simon what had happened, I began to recover. "I'm OK now," I said, "thanks for the drink but I had better go back to my duties." "Don't be silly," replied Simon - (actually I suddenly realised that it was 'Simone' to whom I was talking; (s)he was still in her show costume!) "I don't know whether to ask this of you (s)he continued, "but you seem to have recovered remarkably well. The customers have no idea that this incident has taken place and are still expecting the second half of the show. I know you can play the piano extremely well; would you be prepared to step into the breach and take over Fiona's duties for the rest of the evening? It didn't require too much thought; I now felt fine; Simon was in a jam; and I could help him out. "Of course," I replied. "I can improvise some of my own material for the solo spot and I assume Annie has copies of her music so that I can sight-read her accompaniment." I hurriedly changed into my "interview suit," and clean shirt. (I could hardly perform in public wearing my scruffy work clothes!) As so, at the start of the second half Simone made the following announcement: "It is with great regret that I have to inform you that our pianist, Fiona, has suddenly been taken unwell and is unable to continue performing this evening." A groan came from the audience. "However, by great good fortune," Simone continued "A close friend of mine, Victor Wright, happens to be in the Club this evening and he has kindly consented to deputise for Fiona. I give you Victor!" And with this I stepped through the stage curtains; took a bow; and sat down at the piano. My solo spot wasn't too difficult; I just played the melody of some jazz standards and then improvised a few variations. As I had been practicing these over the previous few nights it was fairly straightforward. Things got a little more complicated when it came to accompanying Annie in her operatic arias. This wasn't music with which I was overly familiar and whilst I can sight-read from a score, I had to work hard to make sure I did not let her down. I think we got through it all right and the audience was certain appreciative; we got a long round of applause. Annie thanked me profusely and told me that, from her perspective, I had done brilliantly. Simon was also effusive with his thanks and praise for my stepping into the breach I just breathed a sigh of relief that I had got through it and gratefully accepted another large glass of scotch! The next morning Simon came in with a grave face. "The news about Frank isn't good I'm afraid," he told me. "He has a couple of broken ribs and a lot of bruising but fortunately there is no internal damage. However the brutes stamped on him and the bones in his right hand are severely crushed. It will be months before he will find out whether he will ever be able to play the piano again. This was tragic news and I winced at the thought of what Frank must be going through. "This puts the Club in a bit of a spot," mussed Simon. "I will have to find another piano player as a matter of urgency." He looked thoughtfully at me; "I don't suppose you would be prepared to take over and step into the breach?" he enquired. "Only you would have to be prepared to drag up and play en-femme; that is what are patrons expect from us." My jaw dropped; this was unexpected. I didn't want to cross- dress; that was something right outside my comfort zone. But then I thought; "Well Philip is straight and he cross-dresses every night as a waitress. If he can do it why couldn't I?" I then considered Annie; she needs an accompanist and I know I can relate to her style of singing. "I'll give it a go," I found myself saying, "but this is all new to me and I don't know what would be involved. "Don't worry," Simon replied, "we have enough cross-dressing experts here and we are all prepared to help you get in role!" Simon called Annie into the office and explained that I had agreed to take over piano playing duties from Frank. "And he has agreed to drag up!" he announced. Annie squealed with excitement and, throwing her arms round me, kissed me full on the lips. I was already in such a state of confusion as to what I had just agreed that to be kissed by an attractive transsexual seemed perfectly normal! The three of us went on to discuss how best to announce the change of pianist from 'Fiona' to 'Victoria' - yes, my femme name had already been decided upon! "Well I think we should give Victor time to learn how to play the woman," said Annie thoughtfully. "I agree," responded Simon, nodding his head. "I think I can justify employing a male pianist for the next week whilst you help him get ready to be 'Victoria'. I can announce Fiona's unanticipated departure and explain that Victor has kindly agreed to step into the breach until we can find a permanent replacement. That should keep the regulars happy for a few days whilst you get 'Victoria' used to wearing skirts and heels." By now I was in a state of total paralysis. Yes, I had agreed to this but the reality of what I had signed to was only just beginning to dawn on me. Annie could see I needed to get out of Simon's office so, taking me by the arm, she led me away. She called back over her shoulder to Simon; "Don't worry, one week from today 'Victoria' will be ready to take her place at the keyboard!" She led me up to the dressing room, sat me down, and poured me a stiff drink. "It really will be OK you know," she reassured me. "Playing in drag is no different from any other costume. Just think of it as a 'role' and you will be fine. However, you do have a lot to learn and we don't have that much time. I suggest you move in with me for the next few days and we can work on improving your femininity during the day, before we come in her to perform each night." So saying we left the club and she took me off to her flat.