Bob’s Interview

Bob walked down 8th Ave. and turned onto 43rd St. after a half block he reached his target. He wasn’t sure if he liked this assignment or not. His editor at the newspaper where he worked had asked him for a 1000 words on alternate lifestyles. In fact newspaper was kind of stretch, it was a weekly and not much more than a shoppers guide, one cut above the ‘Penny Saver’ types. But when your degree in journalism is from Altered State U. (Alfred State) you can’t be that choosey. So here he was in Manhattan about to visit and try to interview the denizens of a drag bar.

It was only four in the afternoon, so he was not going to get many patrons to interview. These places in Manhattan don’t get going until after 10 PM and aren’t in full swing until 1 in the morning. His editor had given him a train pass and $50 bucks to cover expenses, which would not last all that long.

Stepping into the cool of the bar, he was assaulted by the usual bar smell of old beer, whiskey with a hint of urine and a touch of vomit. It was almost frigid in the bar after the hot August sun. The owner had the ac running full blast, because he knew when the full crowd of drag queens, she-males, transsexuals and their admirers filled the joint, the temperature would go through the ceiling.

After a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the interior, Bob looked around to find a place to sit. This place made him nervous, as did the whole assignment and he wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible. Looking around the room he saw a fat bald guy sitting with two girls at the bar, and one lone woman about half way down the bar. The fat bald guy turned out to be the bartender, who lumbered to his feet, came around the bar and placed a napkin on the bar about one seat down from the lone woman. Bob realized this was his designated seat.

Bob ordered a glass of beer, figuring to make his money last as long as possible, and was amazed to find a draft beer was five dollars. He took a sip and looked around the bar again, when he got to the woman seated next to him, she smiled and stuck her tongue out at him. Not in the manner of children, but full out and down her chin. ‘That is strange.’ He thought. Had he bothered to read up a bit on his subject, he would have realized that the tongue was an invitation, a come on.

“Hi.” Said Bob.

“Hi yourself.” Replied the woman. She was small breasted, with long dark hair that hung almost to her waist, pale skin that appeared almost translucent. No sun worshipper here. “Scoot over a seat so we don’t have to shout.”

Bob moved over. After and awkward pause he began to explain his mission, as rapidly as he could words spilling out. “Maybe you could introduce me to one the people here so I could get my interview?”

“Why not me?” asked the woman, “I’m a transsexual or she male, aren’t I good enough for you?”
“Oh, I just thought you were, well you know.” Came a tortured reply, as Bob blushed.

“Well good, I am supposed to pass. Good thing I told you now, before I was six inches up your ass don’t you think.”

“Huh.”

“Just kidding, I am Fran, or Frannie, and you are?”

“ Bob” he blurted out.

“Well Bob, let me fill you in. I am 26, and have been living as a woman since I was fifteen. I had my first encounter with a man when I was 13 and discovered my homosexual nature. That didn’t quite describe it though. I was an effete little boy, undersized and not interested in sports. So determining that I wanted to live and act like a woman was just a logical choice. Luckily I react well to hormones so no need for breast implants. Have had facial surgery, nose, cheekbones and voice box. Plus some work on my hips to make them womanlier. My equipment still works, wanna see it.”

“Ahh, no. Wow, that’s what I wanted to hear.” Said a delighted Bob. “How did you know, you know?”

“It came over me a little at a time, I knew I was gay, but doing the drag bit seemed to make it alright.