After he had gottenthis far, he'd pick out his clothes and lay them out on the bed. Dresses,skirts and blouses, and the occasional suit with short pleated skirtswould lie on the bed waiting.Frankie was still the power cross-dresser. He had spent a bundle onclothes this fall making sure that he had enough outfits to be able tofeel his femininity and to hide any masculine resemblance that mightexist.He sat at his dressing table looking at his face. Sure, Frankie was stilllooking back at him as he applied a foundation lightly to his skin makingsure he coated his neck and chest with the powder. Soon, the man would begone and the woman would emerge.He'd apply mascara and liner, knowing not to overdo daytime makeup. Helenhad schooled him on the reality of dressing as a woman. She'd remind himthat a little went a long way. So he used gentle tones and nothing harshlike dark brown, black, or sable liner. That was saved for nighttime.After lining his eyes, he brushed a little color on his lids. I think you would enjoy it. My treat, by the way. I know what it’s like to be between jobs.”As he sat down, he was closely looking me over. “Wilma, pilsner, bitte.” he called out.The rather stout waitress came out and put a liter mug down. She stood there, rubbing her fingers together. “I’ve got it Ma’am. Just add it to my bill.”“Ja ja, still mit da geld, him or you.” I sighed and pulled a 50 credit coin out. “Enough?” She looked at it closely. I almost expected her to bite it. “Jou wan’ change?” Knowing that the 50 was twice what the bill would have been, I declined. “No Wilma, consider it a tip.”“Ja ja, big spender.” she turned and walked back to the counter.Olivet sat and stared at me, waiting for me to start. I smiled and went back to eating. “You sure you won’t have a bite. It’s not the greatest but satisfactory.”“What do you want? You’re paying for the beer and about five more minutes of my time, and then I’m jetting, so speak up.”“Ok, I’ll get right down to it. I’m the Captain.
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