The train rumbled beneath me, the rhythmic clack, clack, clack of the wheels on the track had a hypnotic effect, calming me on the way into town and soothing me on the way back.

Today, I was heading for a special event, a bar on the Southbank near the Tate Modern gallery. The journey was simple: train to Stratford, Central Line to St Paul’s, then a walk across the gorgeous footbridge with the Cathedral shadowing my steps.

The sound of my heels on metal echoed as I crossed the bridge—a sound I’ve always loved.

I arrived at the bar, dimly lit and modern yet steeped in classical charm. Leather Chesterfield sofas and wooden tables clashed beautifully with stainless steel beams, exposed pipes, and floor-to-ceiling windows. It was the kind of place that felt familiar, much like my second-favorite part of London—Canary Wharf.

Standing at the bar, I felt the familiar conflict of wanting to be seen and wanting to hide. Thankfully, this was a trans-friendly event, and I blended into the gorgeous mix of unrestricted souls.

Suddenly, I felt a hand on my lower back. Startled, I turned to find my long-time playmate, Tony. I hadn’t expected him but felt a jolt of excitement at his touch.

Without a word, he turned me so my back pressed against the bar and kissed me deeply, passionately, with raw hunger. His hands traveled down, grabbing my bum firmly. I was shocked but thrilled. His hand moved around, stroking me, and I felt myself begin to grow, excitement flooding through me.

The room’s eyes drifted toward us. It was terrifying yet exhilarating. My heart raced as Tony began hitching up my dress, revealing the tops of my lace stockings. The cool air touched my exposed thighs, framed by suspenders. This was why I never went out unprepared.

Tony’s devilish eyes locked on mine, silently asking for consent. My lip caught between my teeth, and I nodded, throwing my head back.

My dress slipped up, fully exposing my lingerie. I gasped, breathless and exhilarated.

And then I woke up 😉