They saw a mature, heavily made-up woman wearing a short skirt and high heels standing against the far fall; the scent of her perfume permeated the room.
"No wonder the fucker didn't want to let us in; he's got a fucking hooker up here!" Ronnie said.
"Where's Mike?" Danny asked incredulously, thinking that he knew now why Mike would never come out of room; because liked call girls!
The woman just stood there, dumbfounded.
"Where's Mike hiding; you cunt? You better tell us or Jermain here will put a cap in fat-boy here and then empty the rest into you!" Ronnie threatened.
Michele started to sob, her voice husky.
"I'm Mike," she whispered.
"I'm Mike but I'm also Michele," she mumbled.
"Jesus fucking Christ Jermain; she's a fucking trannie!" Ronnie exclaimed.
The three men stared incredulously at the sexy mature woman who was trying desperately to press herself into the wall. Ronnie kicked the door closed and locked it.
"Get your arse over here bitch!" he ordered.
Michele cautiously walked over to the middle of the room. Ronnie reached out and snapped on the ceiling lights so that he could get a good look at her. There was no doubt that the men were looking a transvestite and not a real woman; but she still looked hot!
Their eyes roamed brazenly over her face and body. Her pretty hazel eyes, heavily made-up with lashings of eyeliner, mascara and eyeshadow; her cheeks rouged and lips painted plum-red. Her mature but attractive face framed by the brunette bob. Her body, slim by male standards, was large but generously proportioned for a woman, she filled out her skirt and blouse nicely. Michele's insistence on attention to detail emphasised her feminine sensuality: the nailpolish, the jewellery, the way the hem of her skirt caressed her thighs. The men glared wantonly at her silken hosed legs; their eyes roamed from her firm thighs to her high heeled feet. The smell of her perfume wafted across the room.
