Transvestia

At any rate I diligently search for motels with units out of view from the office (and all too often draw a unit right across from the manager's vantagepoint!) I then check in giving my real name and home address, but never any reference to my company. Then I drive off.

My deliberate maneuver of driving off and returning sets up the chance for the clerk to assume I drove into the city for the girl he sees when Adelaide makes her appearance. And then once I am hunting Mr. Viger (customers have an uncanny way of discovering which motel you-re in no matter how careful you are... .) "Oh, I begin, as slow and softly as I can, "Mr. Viger left with another salesman. I do hope he gets back soon because I'm almost finished with this typing job for him.

And clerks have to come hunting Mr. Viger Adelaide does not use a telephone.... Adelaide's voice is all right under the pressure of in-person situations, which seems to sort of turn-on the correct feminine mo- dulation. But telephones are treacherous. Of course, they ring and ring your phone, and you just know they realize you (or "she") are in, but I wait it out.

Some may object to motels in that they are often remote from any excitement as compared to hotels, and this is so. Motels are king of like the "locked-room" But on the other hand I have discovered the many advan- tages of motels and furthermore, I have learned to ap- preciate that the ecstacy of "going-out" is not so much where you go, or how long you stay out, and so forth, but that you go out, that you escape the locked-room, that even if nobody sees you there was the opportunity for people to know your femme-self exists as a believable personality.

Thus it is that I have been satisfied on many nights at motels where there was nothing more for Adelaide to do than walk delicately across the court to the Coke machine with the click clack of her high heels echoing in the misty night.

Yes, it's quite a sport...