A Date With Miss B

 

Another time Panties was invited to a chic dinner club where Panties watched her a few feet toward the stage sitting with her date. He helped her off with her coat and took off his hooded jacked. He was tall with close-cropped hair and a single gold earring tempering his strong, laconic aura. Panties couldn’t help but notice her talking, smiling attentively, solicitously, deferentially, how she tilted her head and laughed sweetly at his occasional comments. Even the angle at which she leaned in to pay attention so different from how she related, physically to Panties. Panties paid less attention to the comics on stage than she did Miss B, enjoying her date. For one instant Panties caught her sharp, taunting awareness of Panties sitting a few rows back in her wig and lipstick, nervously holding her purse. In the ladies room, Miss B handed the camera to a young girl to take a picture of Panties on the floor, kissing her feet. After the show, Miss B, pretty and glowing, sat in the front room by the window with her man and some friends she knew from the club. Panties was explicitly forbidden to speak to her unbidden and Miss B didn’t waste a glance on Panties leaving even as the night was just warming up for much of the attractive crowd. Later Miss B would tell Panties about the late part of her evening. He had asked her to his place so they could talk, but instead held her close. “I thought you wanted to talk,” purred Miss B. “We are talking,” said her man. And they kissed. Later, Miss B would tell Panties how her friends who worked at the club had laughed at the transvestite, who had paid for her date, sitting alone in her short skirt and high heels.