the third sex

On Sunday morning I was walking outside the commercial complex in which I live, and the maintenance crew were busy hosing down the public areas and cleaning them with buffer machines. This is done every week, because the complex is well-managed, and the water and soap and the cheery bunch of cleaners, always ready with a smile, are all part of the pleasant weekend ambience of the place.

Looking over at the work gang, I saw a familiar figure. She looked up from her mop and smiled at me. A few years ago she had arrived at my apartment, taken down her pants, and showed me a whopping big dick. I had happily photographed it, and she had gone away again. But in leaving she had made enquiries with the management office about any job vacancies there might be in the building, and had been offered the job of cleaner.

This she has carried out ever since, and I find it heartening that she has shown such a sense of responsibility and kept the job, rather than succumbing to the kind of lethargy into which so many ladyboys sink.

It is all too easy, I’m afraid, for a ladyboy to think that because she is making easy money she can relax and simply rely on turning the next trick to keep the revenue coming in. I had better point out that I am talking about about a certain class of ladyboy: many of them are career minded, responsible people. But you do get a lot who will sell themselves as often as they can, become totally oriented to night-time working and consequently hopeless in the daylight hours, start taking drugs and gambling, and before very long find themselves in the kind of bind that they cannot escape. Reduced energy, no money, fading looks…it doesn’t take long.

So my young friend outside the building is to be respected. No doubt she has her own personal reasons for working in a lowly job such as a cleaner: poor education, impoverished background, the need to support siblings at school, and so on. But I admired her initiative when she first asked about the job, and got it, and I hope she is managing to save some money for herself.


I had to smile, though, when I thought what a contradiction this young upcountry girl represents. On the surface she is a diligent, hardworking, female cleaner. But that afternoon when she came upstairs to my apartment and pulled out an impressive cock, and then lay down on the sofa and wanked off while I stood over her with a camera, is really only the kind of bizarre double life that lovers of ladyboys can understand and appreciate.

I watched her now, as she returned to work, still glancing up at me through her eyelashes. Then she turned round, mop in hand, and presented me with a view of her tight little bottom: clad in overalls, admittedly, but cute for all that, and it brought back memories of how, on my sofa, she had knelt down and parted those tight little cheeks so that I could get a nice close-up of her crack.

I have no doubt that the women she works with know all about her, and her secret. I’ve no doubt too that they all know about me. Secrets cannot be kept it Thailand, and indeed they seem to fly telepathically. But do I care? No! Not me. I enjoy myself.