Transsexual Prostitute

Rocking with Suzette My Best Friend Wanda Hitting the Big Time Photo from my solo ad

I tried working the bar and the street for a few weeks, but I was starving and I constantly feared arrest and assault. One of my TL friends revealed her ad in an adult paper, how much she made and how safe she felt. Soon I had my own ad with my new working name "Crystal." I wish all of my dates had been as flawless as my first: young, cute, polite, and he made me feel like a sexy woman. After a few dates my expenses were covered, so I set aside the extra and pledged not to squander my nest egg on drugs. With my survival assured I had plenty of spare time, so I focused on guitar and vocal practice. Now that I was finally getting good, I wished I could meet other musicians who would accept me, maybe even other TS players. One night I met a pretty young TS rocker named Suzette who eventually moved in with me. We became business partners, placed a small photo ad that eventually raked in $1000 a month. We formed an all-transsexual rock band with her friend Wanda who played bass, partying and rehearsing while we waited for customers to call. But Suzette had a propensity for blowing her money before kicking over rent, for tripping on Angel Dust and visiting Delusional Crackpotland. Of course, that didn't keep me from smoking the PCP dust with her; it was a very potent antidote to the negative voices on the street as well as my own self doubts. She also introduced me to smoking heroin. By now I was raiding my nest egg to buy Dust, heroin and cocaine, but still somehow managed to cover my expenses. Finally, after a scary psychotic outburst, I had to boot Suzette out. Every month I was less and less thrilled with hooking, but I felt trapped by it. The only good thing about prostitution, other than the money, was the steady stream of compliments from customers. They were a welcome counterpoint to the verbal abuse from total strangers, as was my deepening friendship with Wanda. Wanda's only downside was her occasional shot of heroin, but she clearly wasn't a junkie. After we became lovers, I brought her into the business. Then one night we had a client over that picked Wanda over me, and in a fit of jealousy I locked myself in the bathroom and attempted to shoot up. The next day we scored some more and she showed me how to "fix" myself properly. Oh, God, did it feel good! Too good. Life degenerated quickly over that summer. I feasted on drugs while the hooking business went into an extended famine. The egostrokes dried up along with the profits. My insecurities mushroomed, and I believed I would never be a happy TS. I wondered if I should give up, become a guy again, become Wanda's husband, so I stopped female hormones. The withdrawals caused me agonized depression atop the fears I was betraying my true self. Finally, a frightening PCP episode lasted almost a week and landed me in Psych Emergency. During that chemical insanity I had sheared my beautiful long hair to the roots. I sadly concluded I was a failure as a transsexual. Only Wanda's love forestalled my suicide. I resigned myself to maleness and began to plan for our future. I'd get placed into a computer job, experience transsexualism vicariously through her. That was the plan, anyway.