OTHERS PREFER IT COOL

Will ‘Others Prefer it Cool’, the sixtieth anniversary remake of the classic Billy Wilder crossdressing comedy ‘Some Like It Hot’, be a hit at the cinema?
Will the film’s English producer, Rachel Sixsmith, be able to persuade her toyboy lover to attend the premiere in drag?
And does the film’s male lead, all American action hero Jack Jones, really prefer panties?
Of course the answer is yes to all of those, but do read the story anyway…

“You know what, sweetie; I think it’s about time Sue had a night out.”
I’d come to know that mischievous gleam in Rachel’s eyes so well. It had been there the first evening we’d met. And it had also been there a few weeks later the first time she’d persuaded me to dress up. We’d come a long way since then, as was evidenced by the way I was sat next to her, as I now did most Friday evenings, in my favourite peignoir set, contentedly painting my nails.
“I mean, look at you. You can’t keep hiding your light under a bushel, you know.” She grinned. “And I know just the place to take you. It’s our premiere next month. We can get you all glammed up – a nice long slinky dress, get your hair done, the works. What do you think?”

Three weeks later I stood outside Rachel’s house. She’d rang earlier to say she was running late and to use the spare key. A couple of ‘her girls’ from the salon she used would be along later to help me get ready and in the meantime I had to promise not to ransack the house to find the dress she’d got for me to wear, which I still hadn’t seen and which she’d been teasing me about for the last fortnight. I made my way upstairs to Rachel’s room and poured a bath. Soaking in the hot water with half a bottle of white I’d found in the fridge and a packet of Silk Cut I pondered the last few months.

I still had to pinch myself that I was in a relationship with someone like her. We’d met just after I’d graduated from drama school. I was broke, sleeping on a friend’s sofa in a flat in Acton whilst trying to make ends meet working a zero hours contract for a catering company. I had been waitering at a party in Notting Hill when an elegantly dressed woman in her mid 30’s called me over. Declining the proffered champagne and without further ado she’d asked “Do you find me attractive?”
I was slightly taken aback, but tried not to show it. “I think you are very good looking.”
She was taller than me, although probably only by the height of her heels and her hair, which was meticulously coiffured into an elaborate up-do. Her blue eyes fixed mine. “That’s not what I asked”.
“Erm. No. That is, yes. You are very attractive.”
“Good. Would you like to fuck?”
“Shit, I…I mean …well, of course but, I, I’d lose my job.”
“Tch. I know your boss. He wouldn’t dare sack a friend of mine.”
She took my hand and, before I could change my mind, led me off into a nearby bathroom for a swift but passionate knee trembler.

I wasn’t in the habit of getting picked up like that at parties. I wasn’t exactly a hunk – in fact quite the opposite. I stood around 5’7” and was no more than 120 pounds soaking wet, with fine features and a pale skin which was the product of growing up in northern Lancashire. I’d assumed our brief but intense fling was just that, and congratulated myself on my good luck, but then took a call a couple of days later. Rachel had tracked me down via my employer and invited me to a lunchtime assignation at a West End hotel. This time the sex was slower but no less passionate, and the lunch stretched through to breakfast the following day. We even had time to talk a little and I discovered that Rachel was a director of a film production company. She owned a town house in Kensington, to which I was invited the following week.

Other than acting and cinema we had nothing in common. Rachel’s background was utterly different to mine, and yet somehow we laughed at the same things and enjoyed an incredible physical connection. Rachel took a delight in playing the older woman, and introducing me to new experiences. It must have been around two months after we’d met that she first suggested I dress up. I was lying in bed, watching her as she sat at the dressing table. She was enjoying herself, putting on an exaggeratedly suggestive show of rolling on her stockings and clipping them to her basque, Mrs Robinson style. It was having the desired effect, which was evident beneath the bedsheet. She grinned, and her eyes flashed that mischievous sparkle. “Someone looks like they’re enjoying themselves! You know, it’s only fair, if I’m going to all this effort, that you should too.”
“What do you mean?”
She turned to face me. “Will you dress up for me?”
“What, in your things? Really?”
“Oh, go on. Don’t be a spoilsport.”
I shrugged. “Fine. What did you have in mind?”
She giggled. ‘Oooh! Let me see what I’ve got. This is going to be fun!”
Over the next hour or so she dressed me to match – a basque, with stockings and panties. She insisted on putting make up on me too, and she fussed with my shoulder length hair using curling tongues and hair spray. “There. I knew you’d look pretty good. A bit more work on your hair and some trimming of your eyebrows and you’d be turning heads…”

Our lovemaking that night had been even more intense than usual. So I wasn’t really surprised when the following Friday, as we sat on her sofa watching Netflix, she’d leant over and whispered into my ear that she wanted to try it again. She know that I would never say no to her but I think that also, deep down, she realised just how intrigued I was too. “I’d like to try something different with your hair this weekend. I was thinking about it during the week. And I’d love to teach you how to do your own make up – it would be so sexy watching you get ready all by yourself…” She ran her hand down my belly, leaving it resting lightly over my groin and then whispered again “You like getting all pretty for me don’t you? You like wearing all those lovely silky clothes and putting on lipstick don’t you?” She brought her hand down with more pressure and I groaned softly. “See.” She giggled. “It gives all your secrets away…”

Back in the warm embrace of the bath and the wine, my legs freshly shaved, I smiled to myself as I thought of the double life I’d come to enjoy since then. During the week I was a hungry, single, unemployed actor. At weekends I lived in a beautiful house with a gorgeous woman, and increasingly wore expensive lingerie and make up. My talent as an actor, unused from Monday to Friday, was being diverted into playing out a female role each Saturday and Sunday; a role which Rachel encouraged and nurtured. It was extreme escapism. And today would be the next step, when I would set foot outside for the first time.

I drained the last of the wine and stepped out of the bath, dabbing myself dry and slowly applying moisturiser as Rachel had shown me. As of a couple of weeks ago I was now the proud owner of some extremely realistic silicon breast forms, which I carefully glued into place and blended the edges with make up. I slipped on my favourite g-string, wrapped a towel around my hair and fastened a robe around my waist. Moments later, the intercom buzzed. Rachel’s ‘salon girls’ were here.

Jo and Tara introduced themselves as I beckoned them inside. They were both about my age, and carried small cases the size of airplane carry-on luggage. Making our way into the kitchen I offered a drink.
“I think we’d better get started to be honest” Jo replied “There’s quite a bit to do”
“Rachel had suggested that you might like to try hair extensions?” Tara added. “If we do that it will take up most of the afternoon. Rachel sent us a photo so we could colour match.” She opened her case “Here. What do you think?” She lifted out a small clump of chocolate brown hair maybe a foot or so long. I loosened the towel around my own hair and she held it up alongside. “Great! That’s a pretty good match”
I settled down on one of the kitchen chairs whilst Tara dried my hair, running a brush through it in preparation for the extensions.
“Whilst Tara’s doing your hair, I’m going to make a start on your nails. Extensions there too, I think. Then when she’s finished in a couple of hours I can get on to your make up. How does that sound?”
“Sounds fine.” I was already luxuriating in the sensations of having my hair brushed.
“So. Were you in this film then?”
“I wish! No – I only graduated from drama school a few months ago. I’m spending more time waiting tables than acting just now”
“Yeah, it’s a tough gig. Still, Rachel must be a good contact, no?.. Is Jack Jones going to be there tonight? I might swing around and try to catch the arrivals on the red carpet if he is. I’ve had a bit of a thing about him for ages…”
“I don’t know – I presume so. Last time I saw him in a film he was single-handedly eliminating the Taliban from Afghanistan. It’s going to be interesting to see what he looks like in a dress!”
“Haha, yeah! America’s all action hero in a frock. He’s playing the Tony Curtis role isn’t he?”
“That’s right. And that new English actress is playing the Marilyn Monroe role. Rachel told me she’s really good.”
“Rumour has it they had an affair on set – did you hear that?”
“I did, and I keep thinking I’ll have to ask Rachel about it – I’ll quiz her tonight”
“You’ll be able to ask them both directly tonight!”
“Hmm. Not sure that’s going to be a great way of introducing myself. Hi I’m Sue. Were you guys shagging each other on set?”
Jo and Tara both giggled. I hadn’t really thought about the possibility of meeting stars like Jack Jones at the premiere – I guess I’d been too caught up in thinking about my own situation. Eventually the conversation died down whilst Jo and Tara continued with their tasks. I could feel Tara very gently clipping my own hair up and, if I concentrated, I could also sense the very subtle additional weight of the extensions and the sensation of having hair over my shoulders. At the same time I was enjoying Jo working on my nails – extensions about half an inch beyond my fingertips were added together with a deep crimson polish.

Eventually Tara pronounced herself happy with my hair and started rolling it into some heated curlers. Jo stood in front of me, grinning. “Now pay attention; I may be asking questions!” I laughed, but in truth I’d been looking forward to getting my make up done professionally. When Rachel and I had first started to play, she had taught me how to do my own make up, and encouraged me to practice. I thought that I’d become quite good at it, but I knew that I could still improve. I’d come to love making myself up. I loved the smells and the sensations of seeing myself gradually transformed, but it had also become a kind of meditation – no matter how stressed I was at the time, or however shitty that particular day had been, I always forgot all about it as soon as I sat in front of a mirror with a tube of foundation in my hand. Rachel was often away on business and recently she’d taken to asking if I could be at home for her when she got back. I’d take the afternoon off, make myself pretty, dress in my sexiest lingerie and meet her at the door. I’d lead her into the living room, sit her on the sofa, kneel in front of her and then slowly and lingeringly pleasure her with my tongue. She would moan with pleasure – “My god, sweetie, what a tongue you’ve got. I should pimp you out, I’d make a fortune! With that tongue I’d bet you’d be brilliant at giving blowjobs to rich businessmen” I’d smile nervously and hope that she couldn’t tell from my heart thumping against her thigh, or the shallowness of my breathing, how intrigued I was by the idea.

Jo had an array of pots and tubes in her case on the table behind me. She used small wedge shaped pieces of foam to apply my foundation, followed by powder and then started on my eyes. I surrendered to the process as I had with my hair, enjoying the smells and sensations. Jo was enjoying herself too; as she worked she made occasional encouraging comments – “wow, that really makes your eyes work”, or a tip for me to follow up on – the best kind of brush to use for blending eyeliner, or the best kind of mascara. She got me to pay particular attention to the blusher, applying this not only to define my cheekbones but also to give depth and shape to my face overall by using it at my temples, the sides of my nose and on my chin. She outlined my lips with a pencil liner and infilled them with a creamy dark crimson lipstick. She offered me a tissue to blot and then applied another layer. “OK. I think that’s you about done. Now. Rachel was telling us you’ve been dying to know what she’s got for you to wear. Would you like us to help you get dressed?”

Jo led me back upstairs, past Rachel’s room and up to the top floor of the townhouse. I’d not been up there before – it was a space that as far as I knew Rachel only used when she had guests to stay. In one of the rooms there were 3 boxes on the bed, all beautifully wrapped with ribbon. Hanging on the door of the wardrobe was the dress. I rushed over to it and, with it still on the hanger, held it up in front of myself whilst I looked in the mirror. It was velvet, the colour of red wine. Long sleeved, off the shoulder with a fitted bodice and a skirt that flared out from thigh level.
‘Oh my god. This is absolutely gorgeous!”
Jo beamed.
“Quick. Help me into it.”
“Whoah. Not so fast young lady! One thing at a time. We need to finish your underwear first.”
I sat down on the bed and with trembling fingers unwrapped the ribbons and opened the boxes. The first contained a very elegant pair of slingbacks in black patent with a 3 inch heel, together with a matching black patent clutch bag. A smaller box contained a beautiful set of black jet drop earrings and a matching necklace. The final package contained a stunning fully boned black satin corset and a pair of silk stockings. I was overwhelmed.
“Hey. You’re a very lucky girl. I wish someone loved me enough to do all this.”
I stood up and untied the robe from around my waist, slipping it off my shoulders on to the bed. Jo stood behind me whilst I wrapped the corset around my waist and clipped it in the front. I held it in place with my hands on my waist whilst Jo pulled on the laces at the back. It was an overbust corset, and the cups settled gently over my breasts. I’d worn a basque before, but never something like this and as Jo tightened the laces it felt fantastic. The corset complete, Jo unpacked the stockings from their packaging, slid them up my legs and clipped them into place using the garters. They were a very thin denier, nearly nude.
“You should really be going bare-legged with this dress, but Rachel told us how much you like to wear stockings.” She grinned.

She stood up and moved around to the side so I could see myself in the mirror. I stood there for a while without saying anything and then turned to the side, then the other side, then with my back to the mirror overlooking my shoulder, and then back facing it again.
“OK. OK. Enough with the posing. Yes, you look gorgeous.” Jo laughed. “I thought you were desperate to get into the dress?”
“Oh, alright.” I tore myself away from my reflection. Jo held the dress around my ankles and eased it up around my waist. It was actually quite heavy – the velvet was lined with a delicious cool smooth satin. The neckline sat just above the top of my corset, running flat across my chest and arms revealing just a hint of cleavage. She eased the zipper gently up the side – despite the corset it was a tight fit. Then, kneeling down again she slipped the slingbacks on and fastened the straps. I took the jewellery box and hooked the earrings into place and Jo fastened the necklace.
“Right. Now you look really strange with your curlers still in. Let’s go back downstairs and let Tara finish you hair.”
A few moments later I was back in the kitchen again having my hair teased into place. It was parted off centre and fell down to almost shoulder level smoothly and glossily before continuing its descent in a shower of loose curls. Tara arranged it asymmetrically so the curls fell over one shoulder down to my breast.
“There. Ready.” Tara took a step back to survey her handiwork. “You look fantastic”
“Thank you. And you too Jo. Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you! I feel fantastic. You’ve been amazing!”
I posed for some photographs with them both and promised to send them pictures of the premiere – “You must get one with Jack!” Jo exclaimed, we kissed and hugged, and then they were gone.

I lit up a cigarette and stepped out into the hallway, where there was a large mirror next to the front door. Inhaling deeply, I stood transfixed at my reflection. I felt like a million dollars. The dress was gorgeous and fitted perfectly. Jo’s make up, a combination of subtly smoky eyes with a bold lipstick which perfectly matched my dress, was amazing. And I loved the feeling of having long hair caressing my bare neck and shoulders. Lost in contemplation, I didn’t notice the man’s shadow appear on the other side of the glass porch door until he rang the bell. Shit! With me standing where I was, it was impossible he hadn’t seen me. Fuck! Jo and Tara were the only people who had ever seen me dressed apart from Rachel. I didn’t know if Rachel had told them my situation - she must have done, surely? – but they’d never treated me as anything other than female. Ah well, if I wasn’t going to pass, now was the time when I was going to be found out. I opened the door.

“Hello. Can I help you?”
The man stood at the door was maybe mid to late 50s. He was slightly shorter than me and balding, with a greying combover hairstyle and moustache combo the like of which I had not seen since the last 1970s fancy dress party I attended. He was wearing a dinner suit, the jacket of which strained visibly across his ample midriff. When he spoke it was with a New York accent.
“How ya doin’. I’m Mikey.”
“Yes?”
“Rachel called. I’m here to collect you.”
“What?”
“I’ve been trying to ring you myself. Your phone ain’t picking up.”
Shit. I’d left it in the bathroom when Jo and Tara arrived.
“Come in, come in.” I showed him into the kitchen. “Do you mind waiting there for a second?”
I nipped upstairs and retrieved my phone. Sure enough, there was a text message from Rachel. “Sorry sweetie. Stuck in awful mtg. Tried to ring. Will send driver. Cul8r. x”
I tried to ring back, but there was no answer. I went back downstairs.
“So you’re Sue?”
“Oh, yes, sorry…”
“Are you ready to go?”
“Oh, well, ok, I guess, just let me get my bag.” I was flustered and in danger of slipping out of character.
“Is this it?” He said, pointing to the clutch which was left on the kitchen table.
“Ah. Yes. Sorry. I’m a bit disorganised.” I tried what I hoped was a disarming smile.
“That’s ok. But we do need to get going or we’ll miss the movie”

There was a limousine waiting outside, the interior of which seemed to belong to the same decade as Mikey. Seldom can white leather have been used more voluminously. I sat in a huge easy chair on the right hand side of the main cabin, which in itself was the size of a small room. Mikey sat on my left. Between us a drinks cabinet was topped by an ice bucket containing a bottle of Cristal champagne. As we drove off Mikey opened it, poured two glasses and offered one to me.
“Here’s lookin’ at you kid, as they say. Here’s to a great night.”
I took a sip.
“My mum would be horrified, you know.”
He coughed “What?”
“Here I am in a car with a strange man. I broke her cardinal rule.”
He laughed and I went on. “So you work with Rachel?”
“Yeah. Mainly in casting. Running around in limousines picking up beautiful women isn’t the dayjob.” He smiled. “But I could get used to it.”
“Casting? Were you involved in choosing the English girl for the Marilyn role?”
“Kinda. It sure provoked a storm didn’t it? Not heard of anythin’ like that since Vivien Leigh was cast as Scarlett O’Hara. You know Raphaella was up for it?”
“The singer? Who doesn’t? All the film press were all over it. She had advertising in all of the magazines. Even got herself photographed in the original Marilyn dress.”
“I’m kinda glad Diana got it though”
“Me too. She only graduated out of Stage School a year before me. It gives me hope.”
“Ah, so you’re an actress too?”
“More of a waiter..ess”, I hurriedly corrected myself ,“at the moment.”
“Yeah, that’s how it goes. That Raphaella, though. She’s a tough bitch that one. She was never right for the role. You know what?” He leaned across conspiratorially “She’s got a flatulence problem.”
“What?...”
“Yep. She was filming a love scene in one of her previous movies and damn near blew the bed covers off.”
I had just taken a sip of champagne and came very close to spraying it all over him. We both giggled loudly.
“It wasn’t just once either. Took five takes before we got it in the can…”

And so we drove, and as we drove Mikey kept me giggling gently with a string of Hollywood anecdotes. I was starting to change my mind about him – initially I’d thought he was a bit of a sleaze bag but as we laughed my view was starting to soften. Then, during a pause in the conversation, it happened. He looked directly into my eyes.
“Would you take a look at this, sugar?”
His hand had unzipped his flies.
I glanced without realising what had happened until too late.
“Oh, shit Mikey. What the fuck?...”
“Would you like to cop a feel?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, put it away…” I was shouting now, and my carefully constructed feminine persona had gone out of the window. Strangely, that didn’t seem to make any difference with him. He was laughing now, and as he laughed his tone changed. The Bronx drawl sweetened and heightened. I sat staring in disbelief.
“Oh, Sweetie, I completely had you going then. I was worried you were going to jump out for a minute…”
“Rachel?.. Fucking hell, you little…” my words tapered away. “Shit. You look amazing. Jesus, I’d never have known. Fuck, you’ve got a dick!”
She laughed. “Best prosthetics in Hollywood. I thought if you were getting all dressed up I would too. This penis is rather amazing, though. It feels great – see touch it.”
“I’m not sure I want to” I reached out reluctantly. “Bloody hell, you’re right. It even feels real.”
“And watch this.” She grabbed it, and bent and stretched it until it was erect.
“Shit. How did you do that?”
“Some kind of steel rod inside. All the rage with girls who want to be boys apparently”
“But your face…even your eyes are a different colour.”
“Contact lenses. This fat suit is bloody hot, though.”
“Well, you got me fair and square there. I’d never have guessed in a million years.”
“I couldn’t have kept it going any longer. I’ve been bursting to giggle ever since I knocked on the door…”
She lit a cigarette.
“You look absolutely beautiful, by the way. I didn’t have the chance to tell you before.”
I blushed. “Thanks. I love the hair”
“It suits you long.”
She reached over, “Do you mind kissing a fat bald bloke?”
“Well, seeing as it’s you.”
She kissed me very tenderly. “I don’t want to muss your lipstick when we’re about to arrive…”
“Your moustache tickles”
She laughed, and then started suddenly “Look out, we’re here.”

The limousine drew up outside the cinema in Leicester Square. I looked out of the window. The red carpet started directly in front of me and ran for maybe thirty yards or so to the cinema entrance. It was about twelve feet wide with pedestrian barriers on either side behind which thronged hundreds of fans. They cheered as the car stopped.
“OK. Back to Sue again remember.”
“Shit. Talk about a baptism of fire. There’s hundreds of people out there. What if they realise I’m not what I look like?”
“They won’t. You look amazing. Just remember to stay in character. Besides, given the film, there’s going to be quite a few draq queens around tonight I expect. Look.”
Sue enough along the barrier to the right was a group of seven or eight Marilyn Monroe lookalikes – beautifully dressed in matching Seven Year Itch dresses and impeccably made up, but clearly male.
‘Oh, and don’t call me Rachel when I’m dressed like this either. I want to stay in character too.”
Mikey got out of the car and walked around my side to open the door. I swung my legs around and on to the carpet and he held out a hand to help me stand. I smoothed my dress down and took another deep breath. Mikey bent down and, talking straight into my ear over the din of the surrounding fans said “Take your time kiddo. Enjoy. Remember to smile.”

I linked arms with him and smiled in the general direction of the crowd. We took a few steps up the carpet. Mikey stopped to have a word with a fan and I waved to a group of teenage girls on the opposite side of the carpet. We walked a little further and stopped again. I found myself in front of the group of Marilyns and I leaned closer to the barrier, caught the eye of the one at the front of the group and whispered “Solidarity, Sister” and winked. The look on her face was priceless as the penny dropped. She whooped as I walked away. “You go, girl!” At the top of the carpet we stopped and, turning back to face the limousine I put on my best smile, struck my best pose and looked back to the crowd. Hundreds of flashbulbs went off. I swapped poses. Left hand on left hip now, right foot in front of left, smiled and the flashbulbs went off again. Mikey took my hand and led me off into the lobby. I was glowing with excitement. “Thank you!” I beamed and kissed him. “That was absolutely fantastic.”

The film was fabulous. OK, so the Billy Wilder original would never be surpassed, but the new version was fun, frothy and glamorous. In many ways it reminded me of Baz Luhrmann’s Moulin Rouge – the sets were extravagant and the costumes luscious. Even though I felt incredibly sexy in my long velvet gown, I would happily have given a kidney to be let loose in the wardrobe department. Diana Jackson was a revelation in the Marilyn Monroe role. Sexy and sassy, she also had a vulnerability about her that made her perfect for the part. But Jack Jones was the biggest surprise. He made a fantastic woman, with legs to die for.

When the film finished we were whisked out of our seats and back into the limo for a ten minute ride across town to the Carlton Hotel for the after party. Built at the height of Empire, the hotel was a case study in Victorian gothic extravagance. The entrance hall was a riot of florid stone carvings with a richly coloured encaustic tiled floor, polished marble columns and, to my delight, a Scarlett O’Hara style staircase which swept down from the main foyer to the ballroom. Accompanied by a flurry of flashbulbs, to which I decided I could rapidly become accustomed I carefully hitched up my dress and, taking Mikey’s proffered arm, sashayed elegantly down the flight. Safely at the bottom, I let go of Mikey and excused myself to go to the ladies. Not that I needed to, in fact given what I was wearing I doubted I would be able to even if I’d wanted, but it had been a good three hours since I’d last stood in front of a mirror at Rachel’s. I placed my clutch bag at the end of an elaborate marble vanity unit. There was no one else around. I examined my appearance with a deep sense of satisfaction. I teased a curl or two of my hair back into position and, turning to the left and right, smoothed my dress down, revelling in the feeling of the tight fabric encasing my body. I took a gloss from my clutch and was just starting to touch up my lips when I became aware of a sobbing sound from the opposite end of the stalls. Before I had the chance to decide how to react, the cublcle lock clicked and the door opened. A woman emerged clutching a handkerchief and wearing a gorgeous champagne coloured vintage gown. Her short blonde hair had been curled into a 1930’s period style. Her lips and nails were painted a blood red. It was Diane Jackson. In the film, she had looked fantastic. In the flesh, she was one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen.

She hadn’t seen me, and stood looking into the mirror at the opposite end of the vanity unit, dabbing her eyes.
“Are you ok?”
She spun around to face me.
“Sorry. I made you jump.”
She smiled, fleetingly. “That’s ok. I’m fine, thanks.” But then immediately her expression changed and she looked like she was going to burst into tears. I placed a consoling hand on her arm and gave her a sympathetic look. She took a deep breath and sighed loudly. “You haven’t got a ciggie by any chance have you? I’m supposed to be giving up, but, god, I could use one right now…” I smiled. Her accent was Mancunian – just down the road from where I’d grown up. She’d had a perfect west coast American accent in the film so it took me by surprise.

There was a large courtyard behind the ballroom which the upper level hotel rooms overlooked. At its centre was a rectangular reflecting pool with a small fountain, surrounded by a stone bench. There were already a number of guests indulging their habit there and we joined them, sitting on the bench as I proffered a cigarette. “I’m Sue, by the way. From Blackburn.”
“No way! Really? I’m Diana.”
“I know. You were amazing in the film.”
“Thanks.”
She took a long drag, inhaling deeply and, leaning back, blew a stream of smoke vertically up into the clear starlit sky.
“It’s Jack bloody Jones.” She took a shorter drag on the cigarette and exhaled venomously. “I though I was over him, but then seeing him again tonight…” Her words trailed away.
“So the rumours were true then?”
She nodded. “He seemed such a sweet and gentle guy at first. I hadn’t met him until the day we started filming. We shot all the boys drag sequences first, so the first time I saw him he was all dressed up. I’d seen him in films before, obviously, and couldn’t believe what a great girl he made – well, you know that, you’ve seen the film now. Those first few weeks filming were a lot of fun. Jack was always in early because his make up took the longest so those first few weeks I hardly saw him when he wasn’t wearing a dress. I teased him about it, but he was a good sport and gave as good as he got. It was whirlwind stuff – he asked me out within a few days of filming starting, but then we agonized about how to do it – Jack was pretty well followed everywhere by the paparazzi. They hadn’t got to know me yet, and he didn’t want to subject me to the full glare of publicity that our being seen together would cause. Eventually it dawned on us that the solution was right in front of our faces – he made such a good woman that with a simple change of dress into something more modern, nobody would have any idea who he was. We started with a really quiet, off the beaten track restaurant but when nobody batted an eyelid we got bolder and eventually we were eating in some of Hollywood’s most famous places. It was a lot of fun keeping everyone fooled and I think the risk of discovery turned us both on a bit too. On our days off we’d go girly clothes shopping – after a couple of dates we realized Jack needed more than the one dress. He built up a pretty good wardrobe.” She smiled. “Within a couple of weeks it was hook, line and sinker for me. It was kind of weird as well. I mean, it was almost like I was dating another girl. At least until we got intimate.” She grinned this time, but then her features hardened. “Things changed when we finished the drag sequences. Back in boy clothes again, Jack started acting the macho man on set. I started to feel excluded, but he wouldn’t tell me why. He seemed to be spending a lot of time out with the boys, he was drinking a lot, and he wasn’t a nice person when he was drunk.” She sighed, and took another drag. “By the time we’d finished filming it was all over.” She smiled phlegmatically and stubbed out her cigarette. “Put it all down to experience I guess. Anyhow, what about you? How does a girl from Blackburn come to be at a premiere?”

I was saved having to answer by the appearance of Mikey, but then immediately had to think on my feet anyway when I saw that he was accompanied by none other than Jack Jones himself. I glanced at Diana and saw the apprehension in her eyes. “do you guys know each other? Mikey – Diana. Diana – Mikey.” I stood up. “And you must be Jack. Would you like to dance?” I whisked him away before anyone else had time to speak.

“Sorry about that, it’s just that…”
“It’s ok. I know Diana doesn’t want to see me at the moment.”
“Ah.” I paused. “I’m Sue, by the way.” I held my hand out slightly stiffly.
Jack grinned. “I was talking to Rachel before.”
“Rach…but…”
“You look gorgeous, by the way. No one would know.”
I didn’t know whether to take that as a compliment or be annoyed with Rachel for having blabbed our secret.
“Rachel and me go way back – we’ve worked together on maybe five or six movies now. She’s mad – I love her to bits.”
Jack was smaller in real life than on screen – smaller than me in heels, but he had an attractive, open face and an orthodontically perfect smile which, I thought to myself, had probably charmed the birds from the trees more than once. As we began dancing he leaned in conspiratorially and whispered “Now I know what Tom Cruise felt like when he was married to Nicole Kidman!” I laughed. Maybe my preconceptions after talking with Diana were wrong – any man with a self deprecating sense of humour can’t be all bad can they? And he was friends with Rachel. We made small talk for a while over a couple of dances, but I couldn’t resist asking him about Diana.
“Look, maybe I shouldn’t mention this, but I was just talking to Diana…”
“Go on…”
“She’s still really upset, you know.”
He sighed. “I blew that big time. She’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. I still love her, you know.”
“If you don’t mind me saying you’ve got a funny way of showing it.”
He sighed again and went quiet for a few seconds. “It’s difficult to explain…did she talk about us?”
“A bit.”
“Hmm. So she told you how we started dating?”
“Yeah, I thought it was kind of romantic.”
He went quiet again, then “The thing is…”
“Yes?”
“It was kinda weird, the whole dressing thing.”
“I think it’s cool”
“Haha. I bet you do!”
“So you enjoyed the dressing up?”
He leaned back slightly so he could look me in the eye “Uh-huh.”
I kept quiet so that he would go on.
“And the more I enjoyed it, the more guilty I felt. I mean – America’s No. 1 Action Hero likes dressing up in women’s clothes – what would the papers do with my career after that? Once I’d finished the dressing up for the movie I vowed to myself I wouldn’t do it anymore. And then I went too far the other way trying to compensate…”
“And the drinking?”
“Just trying to be macho. Pathetic, isn’t it? I’ve given it up completely now – haven’t had a drop for almost six months.”
“So what are you going to do about Diana?”
“I just don’t know.” He was getting quite anguished now. “I’ve tried talking to her, but she says I’m just saying stuff and don’t mean it. If there was something I could do to convince her, I’d give anything to have her back – money, my career, anything. I can’t stand her not being around anymore.”
We were silent for a while. I couldn’t think of anything to cheer him up. I pulled him a little closer, trying to give him some comfort.
“Wait a minute.” He stopped moving.
“What?”
“What part of London are we in? The Old Guild theatre, it’s just around the corner isn’t it?”
“Err..I think so. Why?”
“After the main shoot we added in some extra scenes of me getting made up and dressed. I was working here at the time and it made sense to shoot locally rather than go back to LA. It was only a few weeks ago.”
“Sorry, I’m not following you.”
“We filmed them in the dressing rooms at the Guild. Maybe the costumes and stuff will still be there – the theatre’s been locked up for years.”
“I’m still not with you.”
“Don’t you see? If I go around there now, get changed and come back here all dressed up, in front of half the world’s press and all, then surely that has to mean something to Diana?”
“Shit, Jack...that’s a big if…”
“She’s worth it. C’mon. Will you help me Sue? I’m shooting in Australia next week. This is my last chance. Please.”
I looked at him. His eyes were blazing as he pleaded with me. This was turning into a stranger evening than I could ever have envisaged.
“OK then. Let’s go.”

It was only five minutes to the theatre. The film studio had been using it intermittently as a set for a couple of years and fortunately they still had a nightwatchman on duty when we arrived. His face was a picture when he saw a bona fide Hollywood superstar turning up on his doorstep and Jack’s charm soon had us inside. He guided me down into the back of house through a couple of corridors and eventually we found ourselves in a dressing room that I recognised from one of the scenes in the film.
“Thank God. Everything’s still here.”
Sure enough there was a rack of clothes against the wall with several pairs of shoes piled untidily underneath. Jack flicked a switch that illuminated a border of old fashioned tungsten lamps around the perimeter of a large mirror on the adjacent wall. In front of that was a vanity table with various boxes and a wigstand, complete with a wig that looked just like the one Jack had worn when dressed as Josephine in the film. He flicked through the rack of clothes and pulled out a hanger with a corset tied to it.
“Can you help me with this?”
He stripped to the waist and I wrapped it around him, pulling in the laces as tightly as I could. A panty girdle came next and then an old fashioned pointy 1950’s style bra into which he inserted breast forms taken from one of the boxes on the vanity. I noticed that his arms and legs were still hairless.
“You’re lucky the hair hasn’t grown back by now.”
He looked embarrassed. “Actually I, err, I decided I kinda liked being smooth…”
He went through the rack of clothes again. “I know just the dress…I hope it’s here…Great! Here it is!”
He lifted it out – a black sequinned number, just short of the knee, with a slash neck and long sleeves, it was gorgeous. He stepped into it and I helped zip him up at the back.
“OK. Make up next. I got pretty good at this over the last few months. Let’s see…”
I watched as he expertly applied powder, blush, eyeshadow, mascara and lipstick. He took the wig off the stand, placed it on his head and teased a few out of place strands into position. It was a short bob and it needed little attention before it looked perfect.
“OK. Let’s get back! Come on, be quick! I don’t want Diana to have left!”
“Shoes!”
“Damn, damn, yes!”
He rummaged under the clothes rack and came out with a pair of sandals.
“Right. Come on!”
“Wait!” I stood in front of him so he couldn’t leave. “Just stop for a moment. Take a breath. Are you sure you want to do this?”
He stood facing me, took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. His body relaxed, it’s rigidity and angularity disappearing before my eyes as it became softer and more languid. It was Josephine, not Jack, who replied, with a wink and a sparkle in here eyes. “C’mon honey, us girls have got some partying to do.”

By the time we got back to the hotel the party had started to quieten down. We skipped down the stairs to the ballroom unaccompanied by the glare of flashlights, much to Jack’s relief. At the bottom, deep in conversation, we found Mikey and Diana. I cleared my throat and they looked up. Diana’s face lit up. “Josephine, is that you?”
Mikey was about to speak, but I grabbed his hand and led him to the dancefloor. “Come on, I think we need to leave those two alone for a little while, don’t you?”

As the music slowed. Mikey pulled me close to him, his arms around my waist. I wrapped my arms around his neck and gave him a quick kiss. “Sorry! I feel like I’ve been neglecting you!”
“You’re forgiven.” He looked over to where Josephine and Diana were locked into each other’s arms, swaying slowly. “I don’t know what you’ve done tonight, but they look very happy about it. You’re a proper little matchmaker aren’t you?” He grinned. “you look beautiful, by the way.”
“Thank you.” I exaggeratedly bowed my head and looked up at him through fluttering eyelashes. “You’re such a gentleman”. Then I grinned. “You could lose a bit of weight, though.”
He poked me in the ribs, laughing. “Such a lovely looking girl, but so rude…seriously, though; this suit is so hot – I’m turning to liquid in here…”
I pulled him close again. I could feel his new addition that he’d proudly revealed to me in the limousine earlier pressing against me as we danced. I took one arm from round his neck and gave it a quick squeeze, whilst whispering into his ear. “So. Does this work then, or is it just for decoration?”
He grinned. “Would you like to try?”
I pulled him closer again and gave it another squeeze. “Mmmm. Time to go home?”

As soon as we were through the front door at Rachel’s place I grabbed Mikey and gave him a long, lingering kiss. “Thank you. It’s been an unbelievable night. I don’t think I’ve ever had one quite like it.” I kissed him again, pushing him up against the living room wall and ran my hands slowly down from his neck to his waist to undo his belt. “I wonder just what I can do for you in return…”
He grinned, and pulled me tighter. His kisses worked their way down my neck and I groaned, arching my back and pushing his pelvis into mine. He spun me round so my back was to him, wrapping my hair over to bare my shoulder as he kissed his way along it, his hands now working their way over by breasts and down to my groin as he ground into me. He reached down and slowly slid the skirt of my dress upwards, over my stocking tops and past my hips, burnishing the bare skin of my bottom, easing my cheeks apart and then gently slipped a finger inside me. I gasped as he explored, his other hand caressing my breasts whilst he gently nibbled along my neck from nape to shoulder. He spun us both around and laid me face down over the dining table. He eased my skirt up again, and I felt the pressure of him against my hole. I flinched momentarily, but then relaxed and he slid in, an inch or two at first and then further with each thrust. I was gasping now. With one hand on my hip and another over my shoulder he pulled me hard onto him, thrusting himself up to the hilt again and again as I cried out. And then, just as I was at the point of no return, he pulled out. “Shit, Shit, I’m too hot, I’m too hot, I’m going to faint in this fucking suit…” I stood up and turned around. He had already thrown his jacket to the ground, and ripped off his shirt, buttons flying in all directions. “Help me with the suit. There’s a zip at the back.” I turned him around, undid the zip and tugged the fleshy garment down over his shoulders, past his waist, and down to the floor. He was fumbling at the back of his neck and then, like a scene from some ‘b’ listed science fiction film, his scalp and then his face lifted away, latex stretching and snapping.

Rachel turned around to face me, blinking and gasping for air. I looked at her momentarily and we both started giggling uncontrollably. After an age, we eventually subsided. I pulled her close to me and kissed her gently. “I love you, you know. We have some fun, don’t we?” I peeled a last piece of latex from her nose. “Although I hope you don’t mind me saying you make a fucking ugly bloke.”
She pushed me back down onto the table, this time on my back. Straddling me, she eased me gently up inside her. She grinned. “Well, nobody’s perfect.”

THE END