Part IV Genie's Alone

Now that Petra had gone to Hong Kong, Genie felt isolated and alone. She suddenly realised how much she had come to depend on Petra and how perhaps Petra was right. Genie cringed inwardly as she realized she had taken Petra for granted. She sat alone in her flat, experimenting with makeup, momentarily forgetting that Petra was gone. But then she would glance around at the tawdry stained walls of her flat, the aged fawn Joyce Mayne recliner chair in front of the outdated TV and remember luxuriating in Petra’s modern apartment. She reminisced of lolling about on Petra’s oversized suede lounge, laughing uproariously watching old musicals together. To make matters worse, Genie looked in the mirror and saw the salty tears gliding down her cheeks through her golden peach powder and rosette blush, revealing every wrinkle and line in the harsh light shining through the grubby net curtains.

Saturday nights were the worst; they had always been Genie and Petra’s dress up nights. Genie tried to keep up this little tradition, dragging out her favourite Lady Di outfits, the yellow and white spotted maternity smock, and the puffy sleeved, ruched organza Oscar de la Renta rip-off – sheer class…. A few drinks would turn into a whole bottle, Genie would call Petra in HK, but it was never the same.

Why oh why had she shown everyone at work those photos? If she hadn’t Petra would still be here in Sydney. She really deserved everything that happened. Nothing she could do, except, perhaps, she could go to HK! Not bloody likely, Genie told herself. Not on her measly cleaner’s wage and she was much too proud to ask Petra for any handouts. No, she must find her own way. Pouring another drink, Genie pondered the problem. Several hours later, after passing out in her recliner chair, she woke up with a start. That’s it, she thought. The answer’s been staring me in the face all along, she thought to herself. All day, every day, surrounded by those rich nips. And they were all terrified of Genie. She just knew they would never speak up – too scared to rock the boat, gutless little wonders! Well, they were going to pay for Genie’s boat ride – all the way to Hong Kong! Genie’s mind raced furiously as she tried to think of how she could wrangle the money out of them.

******

CLOSED FOR CLEANING PLEASE USE NEXT LEVEL

Margaret tutted as she approached the toilet for the third time in half an hour, the closed sign still in place. Surely Genie would be finished by now! She decided to investigate; perhaps poor Genie had had an accident! She approached the door gingerly pushing it open.

“Hello? Genie, are you in there?” Susan’s voice sent shivers down Genie’s spine.

“Oh yes,” Genie called out in a panic. “Sorry, won’t be a moment, just finishing off,” she quickly stood up, pulling the young Asian girl by her scrawny neck.

“Oh shit,” thought Genie, observing her limp body, “I think I have gone too far!” The girl was shivering with cold, soaking wet, coughing and spluttering, having had her head flushed down the toilet several times. Well, if she had parted with the cash straight away and not tried to put up a fight, she’d be dry as a bone, Genie reasoned to herself.

“Right,” hissed Genie, her bravado suddenly returning. “Not a word to anyone, or next time you won’t be coming up for air.”

“Sorry? I no understand lady, please say again?” the girl said meekly, blinking up at Genie like a pathetic child.

“Just shut up!” Genie said, shaking her quite roughly. “Now stay here and don’t tell anyone or you’re DEAD! Is that clear enough?” The girl nodded meekly.

Genie smoothed her navy blue skirt, carefully putting the $100 note in her pocket. She forced a smile and exited the cubicle. Picking up her mop, she opened the main door, to see Margaret standing there, her face creased with impatience.

“Oh, hello Margaret! So sorry to keep you waiting, I wanted to make sure tis toilet was very clean as I know it’s closest to the staffroom. Some of these students leave a terrible mess and I like it to be nice and clean for the teachers and you of course!” Genie turned and sprayed a liberal amount of pot pourri air freshener around the room. “This is the only toilet that gets some of my special air freshener you know,” Genie winked conspiratorially at Margaret.

“Oh Genie, you are such a sweetie, you’re so good to us,” Margaret smiled, her impatience having vanished as she was taken in by Genie’s fake charm. “I wish more of the staff were more like you, I was just saying to….” Margaret proceeded to drone on Genie quickly tuning out, but maintaining her simpering smile.

“Patronising bitch,” she thought to herself. So easy to pull the wool over her eyes. No wonder her husband had left her, many years after taking up weed for solace. Although, it wasn’t so much that Genie had Margaret fooled, just that Margaret enjoyed the lip service as Genie played along. She knew none of the staff respected her, but at least Genie acted like she was subservient to her.

Finally, there was a pause in Margaret’s long-winded diatribe and Genie took the opportunity to interrupt. “Oh well, I suppose you came up here for a reason,” she smiled, gesturing at Margaret’s discreet floral make-up purse. “I’ve got three more levels to clean!” Genie turned, her smile turning to a haughty smirk as she felt the wad of notes in her pocket. As she clomped down the stairs in her beige Homy Peds, she tried to hide her smile as she saw a meek Asian boy enter the men’s loo. Ten minutes and $100 later, Genie was in the storeroom counting her cash. Only $400 more and she would have enough, though she really did want some new outfits and spending money, nothing like a bit of retail therapy to cheer a girl up! Oh well, there would be the cash after she hocked some of her worldly possessions.

Better get the rubbish out, she thought, might have time to hit some more stueys, the ones that finish at 4.30. As she struggled through the fire escape with the rubbish bags, a slight Asian boy approached her.

“Can I help you lady?’ he asked.

“Certainly young man, thank you very much!” You go first,” Genie held the door open, smiling encouragingly, eyeing his lithe, boyish body with a mixture of envy and calculation. Quite well-developed for such a young man, she thought to herself. After dumping the rubbish, the boy went to mount the stairs. “Not so fast,” said Genie, moving to block his way. The boy was too fast thought, manoeuvring sideways and avoiding Genie’s large form. She was like a sea cow trying to catch a darting fish. He quickly ran up the stairs, Genie in hot pursuit, grabbing at his shirt with her vermillion nails. Just as he reached the door, Genie got a hold of him.

“No!” the boy screamed. “I know about you, you bad lady! I going call police! Police!” screaming as droplets of spittle hit Genie’s face.

“Oh really?” purred Genie, pinning him down with her meaty hands. “I don’t think so honey!” The boy put up quite a struggle, frantically lashing out, wildly kicking out his be-sneakered feet, almost breaking free several times. Genie managed to keep hold, her brow glistening with sweat, grunting heavily as she pressed firmly on the boy’s chest to keep him in place. “Stop kicking!” Genie spoke too soon, as the kicks and movement suddenly stopped and the boy’s body went limp. Finally, with a mighty effort, Genie swung the boy around, hurling him down the stairs. The boy groaned and cried out pathetically in pain. Genie gasped in surprise at her own strength. The boy’s body lay lifeless at the bottom of the stairs. Genie scurried down, totally panicked, her heart racing. The boy’s heart certainly wasn’t racing, it had stopped completely. He was dead. He lay awkwardly, one leg twisted, flat on his face. Genie suddenly spied his wallet in his jeans pocket. She momentarily imagined the peachy curve of his buttock and felt stirrings in her nether regions. Snapping out of such thoughts, she reefed the wallet out, opening it to find $500 inside. Genie nearly cried in relief. She added it to the other money and smiled, looking upward, “Look out Petra, here I come!”

Genie’s reverie was quickly shattered as she looked down at the broken body. What the fuck was she going to do? Think, Genie, think! She rummaged in her oversized pockets, pulling out two large garbage bags. Perfect, she thought, as she proceeded to twist and turn the body, cramming it into the bags as if on autopilot.

Eugene's Reminiscing Part 2

His thoughts were rudely interrupted by a loud shriek of laughter. The hair on his arms stood on end in sheer irritation. Who dared to interrupt his solitary thoughts? His cold, piercing eyes scanned the park for the source of laughter. Looking down he saw them... sitting on a bench chewing away on their lunch like mad cows. They were trying to attract as much attention as possible. Two teachers from BDM. How dare they invade his special place!

Eugene had a strong dislike for these two teachers in particular. They had tried to ingratiate themselves with him on a number of occasions, often saying “hi” in passing. But he could see right through their smarmy superiority and would barely acknowledge them. He knew that they looked down on him as a lowly toilet cleaner and considered themselves to be “Top Dogs” at BDM. Eugene wasn’t having a bar of it. He didn’t need their friendship. What could they possibly have to offer? They were like the Head Girl and her fey lap dog following eagerly behind. Him cackling raucously at her every word. Bet she couldn’t get a real man! Besides, Eugene already had someone else on his side at BDM. Why would he need that cocky pair when he had his special connection with their boss Paul – otherwise known to Eugene as “Paula”. Paula and Genie had, by coincidence, met through one of Genie’s contact ads.

INSERT CONTACT AD HERE

It was only when they had planned to meet at Genie’s place that the two had realised they had met somewhere before. When Genie first opened the door, Paula had no idea what lay behind the thickly applied maquillage and dusty pink silk negligee. She had no idea that Genie was in fact Eugene the toilet cleaner! But as Genie invited Paula into her quaint lounge room she noticed a feminine bounce that she had seen somewhere before. Paula was struck by Genie’s hair. It seemed all too familiar. Sure, it had been set and sprayed liberally with lacquer, but there was no mistaking that luscious head of curls.

Paula was petrified! She didn’t know whether to reveal herself, to make a beeline for the door or whether to play it cool. She nervously adjusted the lapel of her indigo pantsuit.

“Would you like a port and lemonade Paula?”
Paula’s prayers had been answered. If there was ever a time she needed some booze this was certainly it. Paula told herself to keep cool, loosen up and enjoy herself. It wasn’t very often she could be in the company of a like-minded individual.

“Make mine a double, Genie! In all honesty it’s quite nerve-wracking meeting someone for the first time – all things considered.”

“No problem Paula, I know exactly how you’re feeling. Just make yourself at home,” Genie smiled welcomingly, showing off her chipped, coffee-stained teeth. Paula sat calmly sipping her port and lemonade and listened to Genie’s nervous banter about her fashion likes and dislikes. Genie was into anything feminine, tasteful and mature – none of the modern stuff that Paula usually went for. She liked to be noticed. But they did share one special love – their love of stockings. Genie went into great detail about when she first discovered her grandmother’s stockings in the dresser and how she was instantly drawn to the feel of the material. How she stretched the stocking over hand and how it hugged her hand and gave her such pleasurable sensations, even at the age of six. Genie also went on to describe how she was transfixed by the seam of the stocking and longed for a time when she would be alone in the house and free to enjoy her grandmother’s hosiery in private.

Genie continued on for what seemed like an eternity. Paula clinked the ice cubes in her empty drink, hoping Genie would get the hint, stop rambling and fetch another port and lemonade. Genie continued on and on. Finally, Paula couldn’t stand it any longer. She stood up suddenly, dropping her empty glass in the process and stamped her foot. Genie was stunned by the clunk of Paula’s white sandal on the tiled floor and the shattering glass that punctuated the moment.

“Look Genie! I’m really sorry to interrupt you, but I have to tell you something! I know exactly who you are, and I think you know me too! Let’s not beat about the bush any longer!” Swaying drunkenly, Paula ripped her wig off to reveal a thinned out wispy grey do damp with perspiration and bedraggled after being contained under her auburn bobbed wig. She smeared the coral lip-gloss off her lips in a Tootsie moment. Genie gasped animatedly. There was a moment of stunned silence as Genie’s mouth gaped open and Paula stood there defiantly. The air was so thick you could cut it with a cleaver. "I... I...", Paula couldn't quite find the words as they both burst into fits of laughter. Like a couple of schoolgirls.

The evening passed in a merry haze of port and lemonade, and the pleasant discovery that they had so much in common. There was one sticking point. Paula was a little freaked out by Genie’s intense fascination for Princess Diana. Never having been a Diana fan, Paula, a stuanch Republican, managed to smile as Genie painstakingly showed off her Diana scrapbook and other memorabilia. Paula, had done a course at Sydney Community College on keeping a memory album and gave Genie a few encouraging tips on improving her scrapbooks. As Genie pawed through her scrapbooks she would point out her favourite frocks, declaring Di the most graceful, feminine woman ever to walk the planet. A real English rose. Genie gushed animatedly over her favourite blue silk drop-waist gown with matching headband. “How eighties!” Paula thought, as she feigned interest and her mind trailed off, titillating herself with visions of Genie vigorously scrubbing toilets in full drag. She couldn’t erase the thought from her mind.

The highlight of the evening was when Genie did her “blackface” Diana Ross routine.

“Call me MISS Ross!” squealed Genie as she pranced around in a fringed minidress, go-go boots and severe fright-wig, miming the words to “Chain Reaction”. She had it down pat. Not to be outdone, Paula fumbled through her drag bag and pulled out her Celine Dion wig and back-to-front faux Armani suit in white. She preferred Celine’s more upbeat techno remixes and boogied on down as Genie screeched with delight.

Eugene's Reminiscin'

The door slid quietly shut as Eugene made his way out of the top-floor apartment. With a slight smirk playing upon his rubbery lips, he stepped onto the footpath and headed towards the train station. He looked quizzically at the passers-by. They didn't even notice him and he enjoyed the anonymity. He chuckled, pleased with himself. If they'd seen him playing around in front of the mirror half an hour ago they would certainly look twice.

What a contrast to now, dressed in his navy King Gee work shirt and shorts, black steel-capped boots. Walking along, feeling the breeze in his curls, his mind slipped into a familiar reminiscence, as he pictured his alter ego in a black satin corset, the one with the red lace trim, the whalebone inserts digging pleasurably into his ribs. Running his hands over his rubber falsies he felt a wave of femininity wash over him as he sighed. Black patent leather boots, long up to the thigh, pointed toes and spiked heels. He felt like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. They fit like a glove and so they should after all the money he'd spent on them. Shipped from Berlin! He recalled the day they arrived. Running to the door like an excited child, scrambling at the box as if it were Christmas. He spent that entire day wearing them in around the house. Happy days.

Eugene took a seat on the station platform away from the other commuters and began humming an old favourite of his - some old showtune he couldn't remember the name of. It reminded him of those glory days, living in East's Beach caravan park down south. He'd fitted his old pop-top out as an 18th century style French bordello. Red velvet drapes, lashings of feathers and lace and a makeshift chaise lounge.

Eugene bumbled passed the faceless commuters onto his train bound for Town Hall, the closest station to B.D.M. a business college for foreign students where Eugene cleaned toilets. The college was made up of generally young 20s Asians from affluent homes preparing study at an Australian university. Eugene preferred to think of them as “rich little nips”. He didn’t get on so well with the students, mainly because of his dislike of Asians. They left a bad taste in his mouth and he felt he could never relate to them and their filthy foreign customs. Eugene resented the fact that he was the one who had to clean up after them. He’d been cleaning toilets twice a day for 25 years. It was 25 years ago that Eugene arrived in Australia as a Russian immigrant. His first toilet of the day was always the ground floor ladies.

“Excuse me sir, I want to ladies,” whined a meek Asian girl. Eugene could never tell them apart. Chinese, Japanese, Thai, Taiwanese? It was all Greek to him. He noticed her small childish frame topped off by her full breasts that were bursting out of her lilac crop top as she shuffled nervously past him into the toilet cubicle. It was the kind of body he craved, but not to have sex with. It was the kind of body Eugene wished he had.

Eugene was a solid man, legs like worn tree trunks and his chest was quite filled out with a light fuzz of hair. Over the years he had grown to love his body and felt comfortable in his own skin. But the sight of this little Asian woman sparked something else in Eugene. It excited him. The sight of this girl stirred a desire within him that he longed suppressed. Of course, on occasion, Eugene had toyed with the idea of a sex change but the thought of surgery put him off. Instead, he vowed to live as a woman at all times outside of work to see what it really felt like to live as his female persona “Genie”.

“Genie”, it had quite a magical quality, and it certainly made him feel magical. A far cry from his daytime persona - Eugene the toilet cleaner. He would fantasise that Genie led a life of luxury, sipping expensive champagne in the glorious afternoon sun on her moored yacht down at Woolloomooloo overlooking Susan Renouf’s apartment. Genie would be waiting for her husband, a powerful and well-respected entrepreneur to chaperone her to dinner at the Summit.

At times, Eugene would feel confusion when at work. He felt it ironic that he spent his day alternating between the men’s and women’s toilets – just like his life really! During breaks at work he often went to a quiet park close to the college. This was his special place. A place where he could escape into his own thoughts, his fantasies, reflecting on the past and envisaging his future. His was often transported to his days back in Russia, where he felt suffocated by the conservative society. He remembered with a coy smile playing on his lips, his first days in Australia and his first taste of emancipation. He remembered when he first discovered a discreet cross-dressing club frequented by “men” just like him. A warming feeling of coming home. A sharing. At the time he could barely speak any English, a few words here and there, yet the other girls understood him and he was ever so grateful. They even had a name for him - “Eastern Bloc Cock”. Eugene found this endearing and all those horny little trannies were more than willing to pleasure him. Not that Eugene was gay, just that Genie was a heterosexual woman.

Petra Finds the Courage

The twosome raised their sherry glasses yet again ,"A TOAST TO US!". They relaxed into their floral recliners and as Genie pulled out the ottoman she piped up with a little idea, "I was just thinking... how 'bout we hit the town girlfriend, whaddya say?"

"Oh.. I dunno doll... you know how self-conscious I get,"

"Petra hun there's absolutely nothing to worry about. Trust me, Sydney is a veritable paradise for girls like us! Ha ha. Let's try our luck eh?"

But where to go? The Taxi Club had long been a source of enjoyment for Genie but Petra had never felt comfortable in those kind of bars. Maybe it was something about those pert little Thai trannies, thin as toothpicks and uber-femme, everything Petra wasn't. She could never compete with that. She knew it and it hurt. She knew she was envious of those petite, pretty types. She wanted to be the one who the hot wogs lusted after at four in the morning on the bonnet of some hotted up car. Flirting with men and the art of the "pick up" was never Petra's forte and she couldn't bear the thought of coming home alone, high and dry.

After Petra explained all of this, Genie began by thanking her for her heartfelt honesty and continued by deciding it was high time that Petra learned a few home truths.

"Listen Petra, you can sit here alone moping about your lot like a martyr if ya want. That's your choice. Or, you can stop worrying about all that rubbish and start living! Do you wanna end up a bitter old bitch looking back on your life wishing you had the courage to be yourself? Cos that's where you're headed doll."

"I know you're right Genie. You always are. It's just..."

"I'll make a deal with ya. You throw caution to the wind for one night only and I promise I'll let you do me up as Diana. Whaddya reckon sister?"

"Hmmmmm... maybe you can twist my arm..." Petra teased Genie, fingering the rim of her sherry glass. Her dutch courage had surely kicked in by now, "What the hey! Let's doll up! It's a deal girlfriend!"

"Weeeeeee, " howled Genie as they fell back into their recliners laughing like schoolgirls, "What about the Shift then?" Not that Genie particularly liked the place. Too many optimistic faggy Asians on the lookout for a rich old rice queen, "The VJs there are always really good. They do Young Divas without fail and they play requests!" Genie pondered a moment, readjusting the buckle on her sandal, "Actually I have a better idea - how about a straight club?"

"Genie!"

"Oh c'mon you never know your luck in the big bad city girlfriend!" Petra noticed a little of Genie's endearing Russian lilt. This always happened after a few sherries and Petra was fascinated by it.

Petra pursed her lips in faux disgust, "Oh what the hey! Pour me another sherry!"

Connections, known to the locals as "Conneckies", attracted a more upper-class clientele. Sophisticated gentlemen with money - exactly what Genie was looking for...

images

Genie's cherished Diana scrapbooks.

Some of Genie's Diana memorabilia.

Genie's portrait of Diana.

Genie gets creative and does Lady Di on Petra. For her birthday, Genie surprised Petra with an Allstarz glamour shoot package. Upon seeing herself in the mirror Petra felt that she had transformed from an ugly duckling into a graceful swan. Lights, camera, action! She imagined herself in Dodi's strong arms, swooning at the thought of being held tightly by that gorgeous, great, Arabian hunk. Her toes curled with delight. Genie marvelled at how slimming black really was and if truth be told she was a little envious of Petra's striking resemblance to the People's Princess.

Eugene (circled in back) with his teammates in Sydney during Diana's Australian tour in 1988. They presented Diana with a "Mother of the Year" award. Genie keeps this photograph on her bedside table. One of her favourite outfits is the copy she had made of this beautiful plaid suit.

Genie's next purchase and also a little outfit inspiration for a new "bold headpiece".

Genie would practice this pose at any opportunity - even when she was scrubbing the s-bend!

Genie heading out the door for a night on the town. She always preferred the high contrast of a black and white image - more flattering on the skin.

Genie loves to hang out at home in her casual Diana look, fantasising that Dodi would call at any moment. She was thrilled to pick up this blouse at her local thrift shop. By now she had the hair down pat.

Petra's gift to Genie - a limited edition Franklin Mint ceramic Princess Diana Bride Doll to add to her collection!

Recommendations - Famous Friends

"Witty, moving and at times confronting." - Margaret Pomeranz

"...beautifully illustrated." - SX Magazine

"An honest portrait of modern transsexual lifestyles." - Bert Newton

"This book taught me how to be myself darling!" - Jeanne Little

"I could see traces of myself in Genie." - Dawn Fraser

"I do not condone crossdressing and I never will." - John Howard

"You don't need to be a tranny to enjoy this book." - Carlotta

"We could all learn a thing or two about sisterhood from this inspired tale." - Kerri-Anne Kennerly

"I don't like it." - Pauline Hanson

Featured on Oprah's "Book Club - the Sisterhood Edition"