patricia and her transsexual lover whose name i can no longer recall lived in the apartment directly below me on e 55th st. in the early 1990’s. they were transsexuals. together, patricia and her friend ran a “call girl” operation right there from the little studio apartment directly beneath me. they also had a #900 number service and there were no less than 35 phone lines running into their place from the roof. it was not uncommon for me to have to pass by several men, all perfectly normal looking in business suits and burberry overcoats, waiting in the 1st floor hallway of my building when i went out. i never completely understood why men would pay money to have sex with a woman who was once a man. it was very strange to me but one of those things that made living in the city adventurous.
some of the neighbors in the building were not so amused by patricia’s career choice. patricia would regularly come to me, sometimes on the verge of tears, to inform me that once again, someone had gone to the roof and cut all the phone wires leading into her place. occasionally who ever was doing this, would get a little scissor happy and cut my lines as well. i know she appreciated my sympathy and once even showed her appreciation by giving me a month long trial membership to her gym, which i gladly accepted. i do, however, have to admit my surprise when I walked into the women’s locker room at the gym, only to be greeted with a huge hug and hello from a transsexual in her underwear. at that time Patricia was not completely transformed as she was still “healing” and taking hormones before she could be considered a full-fledged woman. it was then still rather apparent to all, that she was a man “in process” of becoming someone who i must admit turned out to be an absolutely gorgeous woman. i received a few odd glances from the other women in the locker room, stowed my things in a locker and proceeded to the gym for a great workout. all part of living in the big city . . . .