Journal Entries for Linda Jensen
How I Came to Admire Admirers
April 15th, 2010 7:18 pm MDT
How I Came to Admire Admirers
By Linda Jensen
Linda recalls a life-changing encounter in Los Angeles
It was close to twenty years ago that I had the educational experiences of my lifetime. On the one hand I attended a major California university to study for and receive a Masters’ degree in my field of work. The course work was done largely by correspondence however candidates were required to spend four weeks over two consecutive Julys at the university attending lectures participating in seminars and doing practical work. Classes were concentrated from Mondays to Thursdays so the students, most of who were from California, could go home to their families for the weekends.
I could have taken this degree at any of dozens of universities in the east or in Canada but chose California frankly because I had other plans for my weekends. While my classmates headed home to their wives and children I headed to the San Fernando Valley area of Los Angeles. There, from Thursday to Sunday evening, I could get to live and play as Linda. At the time the Queen Mary Show Lounge on Ventura Blvd was the ‘Mecca’ for the crossdressing world. The Sherman Oaks Inn was a nearby motel very friendly to clients of the Queen Mary. The Sherman Oaks management was so friendly that the manager would store my ‘Linda suitcase’ while I was away doing my studies. When I would come ‘home’ to the Sherman Oaks, my suitcase would be waiting.
Well, it didn’t take me long to fall in to a routine and for my routine to coincide with the routine of others. I made some very good ‘girlfriends’ at the Queen Mary. In particular I was invited to join a group of very attractive and professionally successful girls who similarly spent all or part of their weekends attending Queen Mary events. Friday evenings these girls would meet for dinner at the Venture Inn or other nearby restaurant and then spend the later part of the evening partying at the ‘QM’. The group had different members each week but as I remember it Joanie, Heather and Amanda were the most consistent attendees. We would talk about anything and everything but pretty well respected limits that a visitor such as I would put on personal disclosure.
One of our conversations really stuck in my mind and ended up having a life-changing effect on me. I’d like to tell you about it.
That particular evening it was the four of us, Joanie, Heather, Amanda and I, who were dining at the French Quarter on Santa Monica Blvd.
“Guess who’s coming to town next week,” said Heather.
“Who?” chimed in the other two girls.
“Martin.”
“Martin, the engineer?” asked Amanda.
“Uh-huh.”
“I guess we won’t be seeing you next Friday, then.”
“We’ll see about that,” replied Heather, “maybe he’ll want to see you girls and I know he’d like to meet Linda.”
“Okay, who is Martin?” I chimed in.
Amanda took over, “He’s an admirer but he’s a really sweet guy. He lives in the DC area but comes to LA a couple of times a year on business and for conferences. He arranges his life so he can get to see the girls at the Queen Mary.”
I wasn’t sure but I was starting to catch on to what she had meant by the term ‘admirer’.
“What do you mean ‘he’s an admirer’? I asked.
I think it was Joanie who chose to end their smirks and tell me that admirer was the term given to the guys who came to the back bar at the Queen Mary because they were attracted to TG girls. While some girls liked the attention some were really uneasy about it. As well, a few of the guys who would hang back against the walls, afraid to make an approach or unwilling to offer a girl a drink, were just plain creepy. I had been to the Queen Mary and knew the guys existed but to that point I hadn’t heard the term. (Now the term admirer is widely accepted in the TG lexicon and is even used as a classification on Internet dating sites - Linda)
“I’ve also heard the term ‘tranny-chaser’. I pretty well stay away from those guys,” I protested getting back to the thought of meeting this Martin.
“You shouldn’t,” said Heather, “you will have to sort through a bit of garbage but there are a lot of really nice guys who come through the doors of the back bar.”
“Like your Martin?”
“Yes, like Martin. He is really bright and he does not shirk about treating us like ladies. He is very happy to take a girl to a straight place for dinner, to the theatre or wherever I would like to go.”
“And then?” I asked.
The girls all smiled. “He’s pretty good in bed,” continued Heather.
“In bed? You mean you have sex with him?” I asked, knowing that Heather and the other girls all had wives or female partners. I assumed we were four ‘straight’ crossdressers.
“Yes, in bed, Linda. Do you mean to say you have never been with a man?”
“Well only if he’s also been dressed,” I admitted.
“Then you definitely have to meet Martin.”
The girls all smiled. I felt a bit worried but also a bit excited. By the end of the dinner it was decide that Heather would introduce me to Martin the next Thursday evening at the Queen Mary.
After dinner we first made a quick visit to ‘Peanuts’ next door and then over to the valley and the friendly confines of the Queen Mary. That evening I certainly looked at the single men in the place in a different light. If they were good enough for my ‘straight’ crossdressing friends then why not me, I thought. I got in to a conversation with a nice young businessman visiting from the Cincinnati area, he said, and when he got around to suggesting we get together at his motel later that evening I seriously considered it. However, I declined partly because I wasn’t ready and partly because of advice the girls had shared with me earlier in the evening. “Before you go with someone for the first time make sure someone you trust knows the guy and can vouch for him. It’s a long shot but the well-dressed, well-spoken stranger could be a serial killer.”
That weekend drew to a close. It was a long four days of studies before the next Thursday came. I was looking forward to being introduced to this special man, Martin. I took extra care with my face and body preparation. I bought a new dress for the occasion. Granted it was from Ross Dress for Less but it was attractive and it well highlighted my new cleavage.
It was arranged that Martin would take Heather for dinner and then they would be coming to the Queen Mary. She was going to tell him about this new friend of hers from Canada that he had to meet. Once we met Heather was to slip away for a while and then come back to see how things were going. If all was well she would find an excuse to leave and Martin would be mine for the evening.
I certainly didn’t expect all to go as well as it did.
At first I was a little anxious, sitting at the bar talking with Richard, my favourite bartender and eyeing each new arrival coming through the door. It took what seemed like forever but finally I saw Heather and with her a well-dressed, middle-aged man. He was shorter than Heather who was shorter than me. He looked fit and he had a very pleasant, confident smile. To me he looked like a younger version of John Glenn, the senator and former astronaut.
Heather brought him over to me. “Linda, this is Martin.”
“Hi,” was all I could muster to say.
Heather continued, “Martin, this is the girl from Canada I was telling you about. She is here studying for a PhD,” she said, purposely or by accident exaggerating my level of studies.
“Oh really,” said Martin, “in what field?”
“Actually, I’m only doing a Masters and in education but I guess the doctorate is next.”
“Don’t bother with it,” he replied, “it’s not worth the BS.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” I quipped, an acknowledgement to his already earned doctorate.
Heather stepped in to change the subject. “Martin, Linda is the only girl here who is as passionate about sports as you are.”
His eyes lit up and soon we were in to an exchange about the current baseball season. Fortunately Heather had tipped me off about Martin’s love of the summer pastime and the Chicago Cubs. Over the previous week I had done my homework.
“What do you think of the Cubs with Andre Dawson?” I said referring to the player that year picked up from the financially strapped Montreal Expos. “It broke my heart when ‘the Hawk’ left Montreal.”
Martin’s eyes were suddenly even more alive. They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach but certainly an alternate route is via his sports teams.
Martin and I talked the rest of the evening, not just about team sports but about golf which we both enjoyed, about our work and a bit about our families.
Heather came back to check on us, as promised, but found no need to stick around. I found out afterwards that the girls were happy to share Martin around and he was very happy to be shared.
As the evening wound down Martin asked if he could make sure I got back safely to my motel. That was a bit funny as he was travelling around LA by taxi and I had the rental car. However it was a euphemism I understood and was ready to hear.
“Yes and perhaps I can prepare us a little nightcap,” I replied as demurely I could muster at that late hour.
As I drove to the motel Martin made a little attempt to put his hand on my thigh. I did not resist but a gentle pressure was enough to stop him when he tried to move it higher.
Upon entering my modest motel room the nightcap was forgotten. I had long since decided to let Martin ‘have his way’ with me. He wasted little time.
I will spare you the details but let me just say it was a beautiful evening, not without it’s awkward moments on my part. More importantly it was the beginning of a long and beautiful friendship.
Suffice it to say that Martin and ‘admirers’ like him brought a new level of enjoyment and feeling of fulfillment to my passion for crossdressing. For me it was one level to enjoy the feeling of being dressed en femme. It moves to a second level when I look in the mirror or look at photos and video of myself and like what I see. It went up a big notch when I started to go out in public and was accepted by the people around me.
Intimate relationships with other crossdressers brought a mutual satisfaction, of course. However nothing has ever quite given me the sense of satisfaction I experience when I know Martin and men like him are getting ‘turned on’ because they are with me. I enjoy flirting with a man at a club and knowing that he is trying to devise a way to join me in a sexual relationship. I enjoy dancing closely with a man and feeling his obvious arousal against my hip. I enjoy getting together with a man in bed not so much because I’m crazy about penises or about having sex but his arousal gives me a sense of validation of the feminine image I’ve tried to create.
So no longer do I look on Martin and men like him with disdain and disinterest. Martin’s gentle and respectful example has led me to enjoy the company of many other admirers/ ‘tranny chasers’. Bring them on!
What Should I Have Done?
September 15th, 2008 4:33 am MDT
Last year I went to a nightclub in Montreal. I was dressed in a short, neatly cut blue skirt and a white sheer blouse with a neckline that plunged to suggest an ample breast cleavage. When I danced my long hair bounced lightly across my face. Happily, I attracted the attention of a nice looking gentleman. He offered me a drink; I accepted. We started to talk. Both of us were visitors to Montreal, me from Ontario, he from the eastern part of Canada, known as the Maritimes. He told me about his life and work in the Maritimes, he told me he was in Montreal to watch Tiger Woods at the President's Cup golf tournament. I told him little; I did not tell him I too was in town to attend the golf tournament. We got along great. He was impressed that I knew about golf, about his home province (I’d gone to university there) and I could speak French. We danced together and he freely bought drinks. At his suggestion, we left Cleo’s to spend the night in his hotel room. It was a gorgeous two-room suite, provided courtesy of one of the tournament’s major corporate sponsors. Shortly after we arrived he left me alone in the room while he visited one of his friends to get a bottle of liquor. I could have left right then and there with his laptop computer and other belongings but I am not like that. He was very trusting. 'Maritimers' are like that. On his return he poured me a nice strong Rum and Coke. We settled in to watch some late night television and do a little cuddling on the couch. Our embraces soon became very passionate. He was not tall but he had a very large, thick. . . .chest and shoulders. It was nice to run my hands over his body and feel its firmness, to run my fingers through his hair, to run my tongue across his neck. I loved the feeling of his strong hands squeezing my behind as I leaned over him, the warmth of his mouth kissing my neck, my ears and my lips. We made love for a long time. He had stamina; I had stamina. A single orgasm wasn’t enough for him; it had no effect on his ardor. For a while I thought I had found my perfect mate but as morning approached our lovemaking finished. I knew it was time for me to leave. We both had to be up in a few hours. Although he didn’t know it we both had a golf tournament to watch. I also was on the edge of time where I would need to shave. We made plans to get together for dinner the next evening. I asked for and he gave me $40 for the ‘cab ride’ home. I walked back to my hotel a few blocks away. The next day I made my way out to the Royal Montreal Golf Club to watch the tournament. All the big names in golf were there and I saw some brilliant shot making. But that is another story. I was certainly dressed more ‘boyishly’ than the night before – slacks, golf shirt, sneakers, no breasts, no make-up and no wig. On my head was a golf cap with the logo of my home course. There were 20,000 spectators at the Royal Montreal and I didn’t expect to see my Maritime friend but suddenly, late in the afternoon, directly across the 12th tee, there he was. He wore an open shirt and baggy shorts. There was no mistaking that broad chest. He was looking right at me. Or was he looking at the golfers standing just in front of me as they waited their time to play the Par 3? I couldn’t tell. Now, what is the protocol here? Should I have gone over to him and said, “Hi, I’m sometimes known as Linda. We made love last night. Would you like to nip into the bushes for a quickie?” Should I have gone over and asked if we were still on for dinner? Would it have destroyed his illusion if he realized the Cinderella he was with the night before was today just another a balding sweaty golf fan? As the golfers moved on from the tee I was going to follow my ‘lover’ but just then he was joined by a few of his buddies. I walked away. But I determined that later I would ask him ‘what would have happened if. . .?’ However, I never saw him again. The dinner never materialized; we were both too tired. The next day he returned to the Maritimes and I went home to Ontario. So, what should I have done? Should I have made an approach? Was I right to let the moment pass? Linda
My earliest cross-dressing experience
May 8th, 2008 3:01 am MDT
My earliest cross-dressing experience? It was a summer day in Nova Scotia and I was about four or five years old. My mother and her best friend were going to take me to a nearby beach. I had been told to put on my bathing suit. Probably as a joke but perhaps with some unknown desire I put on my mother’s suit. It must have been very big on me. Of course when my mother saw me she told me to take it off. That might have been the end of it except later, as we were walking to the beach, I heard her tell her friend that I had tried on her suit and I ‘looked so cute in it’. Praise was hard to come by in our family so this little bit of unintended encouragement triggered in me the idea that it was alright to try on and enjoy clothing meant for the opposite gender.
From then on I did not cross-dress at every opportunity but I did enjoy the rainy days when occasionally we kids would be encouraged to play dress-up in clothes and costumes that were stored around our century old house. While my older brothers and their friends would go for the WW I army uniforms I was happily relegated to the nurse and maid outfits. When we acted out little skits for the adults it pleased and encouraged me no end to hear my grandmother tell everyone how I looked like one of her former maids used to look.
Linda Jensen
Where Have All The Good Clubs Gone?
February 17th, 2008 11:47 am MST
Not too many years ago, but long enough that it was in the last century, I had pretty well the prefect life/job situation that allowed me to visit some fascinating nightclubs across America. These were not big name entertainment venues of clubs playing the hottest and latest dance mixes. What made them fascinating for me was that most of them featured female impersonation shows that were popular with ‘straight’ and gay crowds alike. The clubs welcomed cross dressing clientele and the clientele attracted a fair number of their own admirers. Okay so that is not going to put them on everyone’s ‘bucket list’ but I enjoyed my evenings every time I visited one of these clubs.What seemed to set the clubs a notch above the standard gay bar with the once or twice a week drag show was the straight clientele like the ‘girls’ night out’ party attracted for the fun entertainment built around a talented MC. The presence of otherwise ‘straight’ men looking for a ‘walk on the wild side’ was nice, too. They are sometimes known as ‘tranny chasers’.Years ago I had been one of those guys visiting the old St Charles Hotel in Toronto. Now my situation was that I was single and had lots of time to travel – sometimes as part of my job, sometimes on holiday. However, when I go out I prefer to do so in my femme appearance and meet people as Linda. The chaser has become the chased.So it came to be that if I had to go to Washington or New York for a couple of days that would extend in to a weekend for visits at the local clubs. My winter golf holiday to California would find itself detoured to Los Angeles. “Have gowns; will travel” could have been my motto.Through the 1990’s if I were asked to rate the top five clubs in the US where a ‘bi-sexually active cross-dresser could find a good time, friends and companionship I would have rated them in this order: Queen Mary in Los Angeles, Backstreet (Atlanta), Edelweiss (New York), Zeigfield’s (DC) and Monday nights at the Cartwheel (New Hope, PA). They had their differences but they all had several things in common. Clients could count on a good time with a show featuring the likes of legendary MC’s Della Fitzgerald (Zeigfield’s) and Butch (Queen Mary). The clubs all had back bars or lounges where customers could have a quiet conversation and chasers and the willing chassed could link up.For instance, the Monday night shows at the Cartwheel attracted crowds from miles around to the small town of New Hope, PA. That was the night they held the Miss Cartwheel amateur drag contest with weekly winners competing to become monthly winners who then once a year competed for the Miss Cartwheel title. Usually in the crowd of several hundred would be ten or so crossdressers, sometimes one would be taking her first steps out of the closet. There would invariably be the same number or more of guys who wanted more to link up with a cross-dressing ‘date’ for the night than to watch the show. During my visits I saw a lot of one night stands launched at the Cartwheel. On the odd occasion even I would take a select guy back to my motel.That pattern was the same at each of these clubs across America. Only the venues and the nights would change. Now these five clubs all have another thing in common: they are all closed! They closed for different reasons from apparent financial difficulties (Queen Mary) to morality issues (Edelweiss), zoning and ordinance changes (Backstreet) to fire (Cartwheel) and urban renewal (Zeigfield’s) but sadly they are all closed.The Queen Mary had seemed to thrive through two generations of ownership, surviving at least one earthquake and a municipal crackdown when the street prostitution in the laneway behind the club became too blatant for the locals. Rumor has it that the third generation of ownership did not have the heart or mind for the female impersonation business so he sold the property for an upscale ethnic restaurant. Is this a common trend across America? Why did we see death of five great drag clubs in a short period of time? Some say it is the entertainment tastes of America are changing. Is it just too expensive to stage live shows for dwindling audiences? Have the strategies of trannies and their chasers evolved to the point where there is more meeting arranged over the Internet than in live clubs? Or was it just one big coincidence that these five clubs closed in such a short time?There are still good clubs around. A ‘trannie’ can still meet her chaser? Cleopatra’s in Montreal, Jacques in Boston and Parliament House (Orlando) would move in to my ‘top’ list and I hear Hunter’s near Chicago is pretty good. The Dufferin in Vancouver is popular with this crowd on Thursday nights but it is in an area threatened by ‘gentrification’ and I fear there will soon be political pressure to clean it out.But are the folks in New York, Los Angeles, Atlanta, New Hope and Washington now out of luck. No, nature abhors a vacuum so they say. New venues have opened up to fill the changing need. However, to me they will never be the same!
