Early one Friday evening I was heading home in my taxi when I heard from the sidewalk, “Yoo hoo, yoo hoo, taxi!”
I looked over and saw heading towards me a rather attractive, six-foot-tall woman, tottering across the street on her high-heels, which she almost fell of off. She was dressed in a tight red dress.
She got into the back seat of my taxi, fanned herself with her hand, and exclaimed, “Thank God you were here! Who know what these men out here would do to a poor defenseless woman like me!” The voice sounded like a woman’s…sort of.
I turned around and looked….it was a man dressed as a woman. Nice tits. Only they were fake. Hmmm…what with hormones and whatnot these days, maybe they weren’t. I suspected his dick was as shrunk as his tits were big. Them hormone shots’ll do that to ya.
Inwardly I rolled my eyes. Outwardly I kept the poker face. I’d seen stranger things. At least this one didn’t have a mustache.
There were two transvestites who lived a mile or so south of where I had picked this guy up. The dispatchers called them “Neil and Bob,” because that’s what they did for a living.
What the guy in my back seat did for a living I didn’t exactly know, but I had an idea. Fortunately, it didn’t involve propositioning me.
I was able to take him where he wanted to go, he paid me, and got out of the car with no problems.
Well, hell, at least he wasn’t dressed as Judy Garland. Although I did once pick up one dressed as Marilyn Monroe. Or maybe it was Jane Mansfield. It’s hard to tell the difference at 3 a.m. when your car is full of singing, dancing, drunken transvestites.
When you work at night, you see some unusual things.