Thoughts on Men in Frocks by Portia Da Costa
I’ve always had a fondness for writing about men who dress as women. I fact in Not Just a Pretty Face, the second story I ever had published, way back in 1991, Rosie, the heroine thought she might be a lesbian because she fell in love with her glamorous new ‘female’ boss, Ellis. Of course she pretty soon found out that the beautiful creature she so fancied was a ‘he’ and that she wasn’t gay after all… because she’d subconsciously sensed what was under Ellis’s elegant skirt.
I’m not sure why I like to put drag queens and transvestites in my stories. I can’t think of any deep psychological reason for it, other than I’m fascinated by duality, by people having one or more different personae, and assuming masks and disguises and being someone else. Like Clark Kent turning into Superman, Michael turning into Dorothy in Tootsie… like a quiet living, perfectly ordinary and unremarkable Yorkshirewoman turning into Portia Da Costa when she turns to her 'dark side' and writes hot erotic romance.
My second fictional drag queen arose when I was in the midst of a ‘thing’ about both the X Files and
One thing I have to admit is that the transvestites in my books are all impossibly perfect. Flawless. They pass for women without the slightest difficulty. Especially the exquisite Valentina in Suite Seventeen. My heroine, Annie, does recognise that the striking Italian beauty is a man, but at the same time she’s completely blown away by her/him. I have no picture of Valentina, as she’s purely a construct of my imagination, but here’s a photo that might give the slightest hint of her… even though the hair and the clothes are totally wrong! LOL
My drag queen in Hotbed, Stella Fontayne is a very different personality. She’s more burlesque in character, more arch, but still gorgeous in her own way. She’s also quite capricious and manipulative and more than a little sexually voracious. And unlike Valentina, Stella is prone to fuck when in drag. Here’s a naughty excerpt where ‘she’ and Patti, one of the book’s heroines are having a ‘conversation’ about the imminent arrival of Patti’s sister, Natalie.
‘You’re very quiet?’ Patti felt the stiff pink taffeta scratch her skin again. Just where it was sorest from the efforts of Stella’s hard, but elegant hand. ‘What are you thinking about, little one?’ Patti felt the very tips of a set of long pointed nails slide across her backside, the touch frustratingly light yet like five streaks of acid.
She groaned, no longer quiet, her cunt contracting.
The nails retraced their track, lighter than ever, yet hotter because the nerve-ends had been stirred. Patti bit her lips, felt her head go light, endured the tiny spasm in her swollen, aching clit.
The voice was more revealing than ever now. Patti heard her own name sound deeper, full of real emotion, and felt her body go limp, lose strength, blown away by it. Her cunt wept, the thick slippery liquid sliding out of her like an unfurling flag of lust. She wept other tears too; but not from the pain of her spanking. Confused, she turned her head to dislodge the drops, and saw again the glittering pink of Stella’s costume. There was an electric crackle in the air as it slid to the floor and hit the grubby lino.
She had lovingly tacked and sewn that skirt, then fitting it closely on its wearer. Very closely. Precision tailored, with only a sheer silky basque beneath… It had been fun, that fitting, and her cunt grasped involuntarily, recalling it.
Feeling the long fingernails again, against her jaw this time, Patti knew that Stella was changing even as he touched her. Not his costume this time, but his mindset. Unrestricted by the conventions of gender, he was making the best choice for the moment…
He was a man now, in spite of the exotic, whorish perfume he wore, which as ever threatened to make Patti sneeze. In spite of the red satin knickers which Patti saw flash across edge of her vision, consigned to the floor, with the dress.
‘So, you’re absolutely convinced that your sister will come back to Redwych to visit us?’ persisted the man who still seemed to be ‘Stella’, even now.
‘Yes! She’ll come! I’ve already persuaded her, I told you!’ gasped Patti, fighting the hard, stiffened edge of a corset as it pressed against her bottom. Fighting the urge to churn her hips and rub herself, ‘I- I’d never let you down…’ She paused, and heard, through her own pounding blood, a series of tiny distinctive pops…
‘Stella…’ she whispered, watching ten long, hot pink ovals - Stella’s false fingernails - drop one by one onto the counter beside her.
‘I know you won’t, little one,’ murmured her lover as his fingertips, shorn of their talons, explored her labia and paddled in her juices.
‘Oh God,’ moaned Patti, saliva rattling in her throat as if every gland in her body had was open and pouring out liquid. Her clitoris felt ready to burst from the gathered sensation.
‘No, it’s just me,’ said ‘Stella’, his laughing breath warm in Patti’s ear as his erect cock forged its slow way inside her.
So, who else finds the idea of a hot man in a dress intriguing? And if you do, who's your favourite trannie?
Leave a comment for the chance to win my Transvestite trio as a prize... Continuum/Suite Seventeen/Hotbed!
Portia Da Costa
who has been known to wear men's clothes on occasion.
Guy Pearce in The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert
John Lone in M. Butterfly
Dustin Hoffman in Tootsie
David Duchovny in Twin Peaks [sorry about the Italian dubbing]
Vincent D'Onofrio in The Velocity of Gary
Eddie Izzard just being Eddie
And finally, here's one for Madelynne - the lovely Mana.