The video below, by Jose Castelo Branco, gave me the inspiration for the cross dresser scene in Pleasure House. Rose has never encountered crossdressers before and the admits and attendants on this floor give her a real treat. Click the link to watch from where the ideas came!
. . . At the back of the room, others gathered around a large dining table filled with silver trays of food and crystal goblets of fine drink. A sparkling, elegant chandelier hung from above. In the front right corner of the room stood a large, decorative screen covered with scenes of lovers engaged in various carnal acts. In the front left corner of the room sat the musicians, all playing an assortment of drums, flutes, and other unidentified tinkling items, while men in tight loin cloths danced in time to the music, swinging their hips and waving their arms, stepping left and right in a lively rhythmic pattern. A sheen of perspiration illuminated their facial features, showing off glittering eyes and luscious lips painted with bright cosmetics.
“Come, you dance with us.”
. . . Rose found the dance patterns easy, picked up her pace with more enthusiasm as her confidence increased, and surrendered to the partnership. The music pounded in her ears, and after several minutes, the rhythm and movement of the dance intoxicated her. Her partner took her hand in his and pulled her a few steps to the right, then pushed her a few steps to the left. He raised his hand, and Rose took the liberty of performing a dainty, little twirl—right into the arms of the lady in red.
“Oh, I’m so . . . !” Rose locked onto a pair of bright eyes, their piercing glint soulful and penetrating. She studied the face before her, the well-formed nose, and the strong, square jaw line which curved down to a nice, rounded chin. Like many of the others in the room, certain facial features bore evidence of the skillful application of cosmetics. Both hands, though neatly manicured, exuded a certain force between their widths, but she marveled most at the strength of the arms wrapped around her waist. Within their embrace, she became overwhelmed by an intense energy, a radiating heat that threatened to suffocate her, and the scent of bergamot and myrrh made her swoon. Rose gave a small cry of surprise as the figure scooped her up and, with quick, graceful steps, moved toward the opposite corner of the room. Once situated behind the privacy of the screen, Rose found herself placed on a large, soft cushion. The lady in red loomed over her as if to consume her very being.
A surge of panic set in, and Rose writhed to get away from the stronghold of muscular thighs locked in position on either side of her hips, held fast by the weight over her.
“Please, let me . . . !”
“Sh-h-h, silencio. Quiet, please, amor. No need to be afraid.”
The soft, sultry voice made Rose stop and blink her eyes in amazement. “You’re—“
“I am Ramón. And yes, I am . . .”
“. . . A man!” But you’re so beautiful . . .” She stared, unable to remove her eyes, his beauty taking her breath away.
“Thank you, amor. You are most kind, but I think you are the beautiful one, la hermosa.” Rose’s heart quickened; the hard bulge between his thighs pressed harder against her sex.
Without thinking, Rose reached up and moved her finger across the fabric of Ramón’s gown, her brows knit together, perplexed. “You . . . you like women . . . even though you wear . . . ?”
“I adore not only women, but everything associated with female beauty. I love silky fabric against my skin, the touch of cold metal and sparkling gems around my neck. With cosmetics, I can transform myself and be one as beautiful as yourself, even if only for just a moment in time. In this way, I honor and pay tribute to the power and beauty and strength of the woman.”
Rose pondered his words in silence. Meanwhile, from the chestnut-colored depths of Ramón’s eyes, a quiet hunger surged. In lusty anticipation, he licked his lips with a glossy tongue and peered into Rose’s face. “Allow me to immerse myself in your beauty, taste your divine sweetness.” Rose shifted under his weight, aroused by his declarations and eloquent request. The hidden place between her thighs responded with an outpouring of hot, thick moisture, and she tried in vain to open herself up to this strange person who wielded power over her. Ramón’s thighs held her fast.
“You’re allowed,” Rose said. With a serene smile, she reached behind her neck, untied the straps of her dress, and threw her arms behind her head. . . .