Fiona Dobson's Crossdressing Blog.

All I can possibly say is, “What a week!”

Now, as you likely know, I am the very soul of discretion, and would neither say anything to embarrass anyone, nor anything to get myself sued. With this in mind you may need to read between the lines in today’s email. For my many friends outside of North America, you may have to work a little on this week’s missive.

I found myself hurrying through Las Vegas this week, on agency business. I got off the plane and was in a series of meetings before finally checking into my hotel late on Wednesday evening. The last time I had been in Las Vegas was with Sebastian, my personal trainer, who was here applying for a job. He was in the midst of one of his bursts of Christian spirituality, and had applied to a famous TV Evangelist for a job working as a missionary. The TV preacher was subsequently defrocked, I learned, for being rather too friendly with some of the younger members of his flock. Such behaviour! I wonder if that is ‘defrocked’ or disbaaahed’? Either way, Sebastian did not get the missionary position.

I found my hotel to be full of activity and secret service people, as apparently there was a very important guest staying. At first I thought all the attention was for me, however I soon found out otherwise.
After checking in, I walked to the elevator, stepped inside just as a large entourage arrived and one particular member pushed forward through the closing doors of the elevator. Taken by surprise I found myself alone in the elevator with a large man, who was instantly recognizable by his shock of orange hair.

Now, as I say, I am the soul of discretion, so I will refrain from naming names. The man was, in his way, also applying for a rather important job.  He was very distraught and kept muttering something about a ‘nasty woman’.

To my surprise the elevator stopped after a moment, nowhere near my floor, and the lights dimmed. Being caught in a halted elevator is a very disturbing experience. The man looked at me, then seemed to realise his colleagues were not with us, and gradually we realised we were stuck in the elevator, and may be here some time. It was a very difficult situation.

The next moment I was shocked to find himm lunging at me and thrusting himself forwards. As you know, I am not like other women and have a little extra to surprise any man. As he tried to grab at me, I deftly stepped aside and giggled.

“Really,” I gasped, and tried to stall him, but he was having none of it. He made another lurch and his octopus like hands were suddenly all over me! All right, a very small octopus.

Thinking, I might as well do something about the situation, I pushed him away, smiled and said that I thought I might know what he needed.

“Relax,” I said. “Think of me as someone who can sort out your election…”

I dropped to my knees and I will not go into what followed. Needless to say, I think I can say his pole was looking healthier than it has in a long time. By the time the elevator returned to service, he was looking a lot more relaxed.

As we arrived on the 16^th floor, the doors opened and several worried looking secret service personnel hurried into the elevator. My friend then disappeared, leaving me feeling like I needed to go and brush my teeth, in the knowledge I had done my bit to serve my country.

However, that’s not the main reason I am writing to you. As we edge closer to the election I feel it part of my role to urge you to go out, familiarise yourself with the issues and then get out and vote. As for me, I think I’ve had enough of his nonsense rammed down my throat for one election.

🙂

Fiona