When by chance, Cheyanne a street-wise 26 year old transsexual prostitute recently released from prison, meets Evan, a naive young man ambiguous about his sexual identity, the elements are in place for this erotic thriller.
The story, fueled by newly inherited wealth, greed, abundant use of crystal methamphetamine, sexual appetites without boundaries and even murder, will make the reader laugh or at times cry.
Join Cheyanne and Evan in their journey from the street sex trade on LA’s Santa Monica Boulevard to sex celebrity style in the Hollywood Hills and New York City. Read her story as it might have been told to the author by Cheyanne. For readers actually living in the transgendered world, meet new heroes and heroines. For others who chance upon this book you may gain a new understanding and acceptance of a lifestyle you wondered about.
Even though only 1% of all breast cancers occur in men, seventy six year-old David Kaye has endured three recurrences of the illness since 1998. With the last two being discovered at stage four, Kaye quickly became aware that time was running out. However, deciding to put up a tough fight and committed to turning his likely end into a new beginning, Kaye shocked both his family and the world by releasing his debut novel. While the idea for ‘Boulevard Girls’ has been under development for many years, thirty five consecutive sessions of head and neck radiation almost destroyed his ability to speak and served as the inspiration for him to express himself through writing. The author explains how his book’s narrative is very close to home. “I’ve always had a fascination with T-Girls but was unable to explore it until I left my forth marriage nine years ago. While the T-Girls I met from the Boulevard stole my money, possessions and even my car, I was so excited to finally be living out my fantasies. My book takes further inspiration from Chocolate, the most amazing T-Girl I ever met. We remain close friends to this day,” says Kaye. He continues, “When my radiation treatment mostly destroyed my salivary glands, swallowing muscles and my ability so speak, I knew I had to find a new way to express myself. With such a powerful personal story to tell, I interwove it with fiction and hand-wrote what is now Boulevard Girls, the book.” Since its release, the book has garnered a consistent string of rave reviews. “An absolutely riveting murder mystery in the transgender genre. This is a coming of age story about transitions, not only of the gender variety, but about the growth and individuation of the central characters. With many ingenious twists and turns along the way, “Boulevard Girls” races to an exciting, nail biting and inexorable conclusion,” says Samuel Rafael, who reviewed the book on Amazon. Celeste was equally as impressed, saying, “This author is an incredible story teller! The story is such a page turner that I couldn’t put it down…..I cried at the end. I hope in the near future there will be a sequel.” With so much success as at a tragic time in his life, Kaye has some important parting words for others. “Is there a lesson to be learned? Sure… have no regrets… there are silver linings… keep your chin up… every downside has an upside. My favorite… live every moment as if it’s your last… it may be,” he concludes. With the book’s popularity expected to increase, interested readers are urged to purchase their copy as soon as possible.
About the Author:
Following a successful career as a CPA and partner in a regional accounting firm, David Kaye’s life was turned upside down at the age of thirty when his wife committed suicide. Left to raise their two sons, Kaye left accounting two years later and specialized in launching new risky new businesses. Organizing companies ranging from music distribution and anti-shoplifting devices to windmills and electricity generation, Kaye lost millions but never turned away from his next challenge. Marrying three more times and fathering eight children, Kaye admits that his life has had big highs, dismal lows but has never been boring.
An Excerpt from Boulevard Girls
I’m bored. One more month with my aunt, then monthly reports to my probation officer. I can deal with that. At least I will be able to leave her house. I can’t wait to resume my real life. How much TV can I watch? How many hours can I sleep? Only one more month… Saturday, a warm July evening, I’m boarding the Greyhound Bus in Oxnard. I should be in Los Angeles by 8:00 pm and at work by 9:00 pm. Perfect timing. I’m Christopher Johnson, a black male, 25-year-old, 5’8”, about 150 pounds and carrying my overnight bag. It’s in the storage rack above my seat. I’m dressed casually but nice. Straight leg jeans, a collar polo shirt and short brown boots. I’ve got a ball cap on my head and large sunglasses on my eyes. None of the other bus riders pay much attention to me. I like my privacy. It’s the express bus from Ventura County to downtown LA, makes only two other stops on the way. At close to 8:00 p.m. I’m at the downtown LA Greyhound Terminal. Leaving the bus I walk through the Terminal and head to the public bathrooms. I don’t enter either bathroom, just sit outside the Ladies… I’m pretending to be looking at a magazine; I’m actually focused on the women as they enter and leave. Silently I’m keeping count and when I’m sure that every woman who entered has left I wait five minutes to be doubly sure and then quickly enter. I hurry to the extra-large handicap stall, enter and lock the door. Carefully I place my small suitcase on the toilet seat and zip it open. Its contents are still as neat and orderly as when I packed. Taking off my cap and sunglasses, shoes, socks, pants, underwear and shirt, I hang everything I can on the hooks. Now standing completely naked, feeling very vulnerable, I know I dare not waste time. Using the contents of the suitcase I begin to dress. I start by tugging at my penis and gently placing it and my testicles into an extra-long sock I take from my suitcase. Bending at the waist and reaching behind me I tuck the sock with my privates between my ass cheeks. Sure my manhood has been hidden from view I stand up and begin to dress. First on is the sexy, girly thong…then the flesh colored tights and the padded bra with foam inserts…next a plain black skirt, slit provocatively to mid-thigh…a frilly long sleeved blouse almost completes the picture. I put my feet into soft black leather boots that reach up to mid-calf. With all of my clothes that I had taken off now re-packed into my suitcase, I stand silently and listen at the door to the stall. When I’m sure no one else is in the Ladies Room I walk out and stand in front of the mirror admiring myself. The entire clothing change had taken less than 10 minutes. For the next part, the make-up, it would take significantly longer. From my suitcase I take out my make-up case…I only use Mac Cosmetics. First, I evenly apply the Mac Face Foundation, and then satisfied that it looks natural I begin to work on my eyes. I carefully paste on thick mid-length eyelashes and apply eye shadow. I check out my eyebrows, notice a few straggly hairs I had missed at home and tweeze. Tilting my face from side to side I examine my new look… Exotic and Beautiful I whisper to myself. Next, with my lipstick brush I paint my lips to a lustrous shine with medium coverage to look very sexy. Finally, the crowning touch. From the suitcase I take out a shoulder length black wig made of real Indian hair, cost me more than anything else. Carefully I put it on, being sure the lace front, with the hidden single edge razorblade, is securely in place. I brush out the wig. It hangs down straight without any curls. I step back to admire my total transformation. The beautiful butterfly I’ve been hiding has now emerged. I whisper aloud, Bye, bye Christopher, hello Cheyanne. With purse in one hand and overnight case in the other, I quickly leave the Ladies Room and stride confidently to the rental lockers, looking over my shoulder to see anything suspicious. I’m pleased to see no one seems to be wondering where Christopher had gone. Putting enough coins in the coin slot for a twenty-four hour rental I stow my overnight case, lock the door and head out of the bus terminal. I walk to Wilshire Boulevard, board the MTA Bus and get off at Western. Turning right on Western I head to Santa Monica Boulevard. I begin my stroll. I know that from Western to Highland I’m in the flow and working the cruising cars. Lots of horny guys are driving slowly up and down the Boulevard. Most are window shopping, but some are real…those are the guys willing to pay to satisfy their needs with a hot transsexual. I’ve been in prison for more than four years…I’ve missed the life. “Nothing much has changed,” I smile invitingly at the passing Porsche. At 5:00 a.m. Sunday morning I’m in Hollywood eating breakfast at Denny’s. Three blow jobs at $50 each, one guy at $200 who butt fucked me and another at $150 I fucked, total $500. A great night’s work. Though I’ve been gone for a while, I’m still the Number One Boulevard Girl…time to head back to Oxnard. Spending some of my hard earned money, I taxi back to the Greyhound Terminal. There I retrieve my overnight case from the locker and reverse my earlier clothing change. At 7:00 a.m., back to being Christopher, I board my return bus. Once home I’m restless, can’t fall asleep. I have the eerie feeling that events have begun that will change my life forever.